The Mage Who Devours Disasters - Chapter 18

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 18.
The Garden of Gods was peaceful.
Or rather, it was tedious.
The sound of flowing water.
Harp melodies drifting from somewhere.
The fragrant aroma of fruit.
A paradise perfectly orchestrated in every detail.
Yet for Heimdall, the god of storms, this very silence was torture.
He rested his chin in his palm, swirling a goblet of nectar.
The golden liquid sloshed within the crystal vessel.
‘How quiet it all is.’
My thoughts drifted toward a single being.
Rag.
That audacious creature who devoured my tempest and brazenly proposed a bargain.
-I will ascend the Tower and seek out the great sovereign of all things, Heimdall, before anyone else.
Those were his exact words.
His ambition was admirable.
He proved his strength as well.
He obliterated the Sacred Realm entirely and became the master of the First Floor.
Yet since then, nothing but silence.
All I heard was that Caligo died and Rag became the master of Floor 2 by sheer circumstance.
The creature had gone completely quiet.
“Heimdall.”
Someone called to me.
I turned my head.
A deity draped in a verdant robe stood before me.
Partagos—a supreme god who governed the Forest and the Earth.
“What is it?”
“That seed you mentioned. Rag, wasn’t it?”
The deity settled into the seat across from me.
Curiosity and mockery mingled strangely in his gaze.
“Do you truly believe that creature will ascend all the way to where we dwell?”
I tilted my goblet instead of answering.
Partagos continued.
“You understand as well as I do what this Tower truly is.”
The Tower had stagnated beyond redemption—it had rotted.
A structural contradiction.
The rich grew richer, the poor grew poorer.
For a lower-floor deity to ascend, they required immense “Prosperity.”
To increase Prosperity, one must develop their floor.
To decorate a Floor, I need ‘Nectar’.
The problem is there’s no way to obtain it in sufficient quantities.
Nectar given in pittance every thirty days?
How am I supposed to construct Buildings and establish ecosystems by hoarding that?
“There are limits to what one can do alone. Even a thousand years wouldn’t get me past Floor 20.”
Partagos cast me a meaningful glance.
“Are you backing him? Supplying Nectar in bulk, perhaps?”
It was the only explanation for why Heimdall could be so composed about this.
Heimdall let out a soft laugh.
He shrugged his shoulders as if it were absurd.
“Why would I?”
“…Huh?”
“A creature with zero aptitude for calamity. Someone without even a speck of the Natural Faction’s authority—why would I support him?”
It wasn’t a lie.
Rag’s aptitude had been determined as ‘Null’.
“I, I see? You’re right—charity work doesn’t suit your nature.”
Partagos nodded awkwardly.
Heimdall rose from his seat.
“Don’t worry about it. If he climbs, he climbs. If he doesn’t, he doesn’t.”
He waved his hand dismissively.
But his true feelings were different.
‘I’m curious, though.’
It was true that there was no support.
Rag was penniless.
The settlement stipend of 100 Nectar he’d received upon promotion from Floor 1 to Floor 2 was likely his entire fortune.
Even laying grass in his front yard would strain that budget.
I could picture him struggling helplessly.
‘Should I go take a look?’
An impulse stirred within me.
I understood it well enough.
He’d been suddenly thrust up to Floor 2 with no time to prepare.
I’d experienced that period myself once.
Surely he had no energy to even think of himself.
‘Maybe I’ll go offer some guidance.’
Left as things were, the boy would wither away.
Teaching him how to properly decorate a Floor, and perhaps handing over a bit of Nectar if needed, wouldn’t be unreasonable.
I could think of it as an investment.
I left the Garden.
I stood before the spatial transfer gate.
My destination: Floor 2.
Whoooosh!
The magic circle blazed with light.
My vision inverted.
‘I’ve arrived.’
Heimdall opened his eyes.
Then he tilted his head in confusion.
“…?”
There was nothing.
Literally nothing.
Not a single building, not a single tree in sight.
No monsters, no water, no wind.
An endless expanse of White Ground.
A desolate wasteland shrouded only in silence.
“What is this?”
Heimdall surveyed his surroundings.
He wondered if he’d marked the wrong coordinates.
But the System clearly indicated this was Floor 2.
Then was it a shortage of Nectar?
Even so, 100 Nectar should be enough to plant several saplings.
When one first becomes a Deity, it was natural to experiment with various things.
At minimum, there should be grass laid down.
“Tsk.”
But this was excessive.
After a moment of contemplation, Heimdall reached a conclusion.
‘They haven’t touched it at all.’
Disappointment washed over him.
Abandonment.
They’d simply let it go from the start.
* * *
My mouth fell open.
I counted the digits again.
One, ten, hundred, thousand, ten thousand….
One million.
A single ‘Fragment of the Broken Golden Ratio’ could be exchanged for one million Nectar.
The scale itself was different.
The exchange rate for the Mythic-grade equipment I’d just checked was merely 5,000 Nectar.
This single fragment was worth as much as 200 pieces of Mythic equipment.
‘That’s incredible.’
I swallowed hard.
Of course, this exchange came with a fatal trap.
There’s a ‘Sell’ button, but no ‘Buy’ button.
In other words, once I convert it to Nectar, I can never transform it back into a fragment.
‘Could it be that I’m the only one who possesses a fragment of the Broken Golden Ratio?’
Doubt crept into my mind.
I’d only obtained this fragment through tutorial rewards and hidden rewards.
Moreover, I’d never seen the other Deities use anything like it.
They’d only ever mentioned Nectar.
It was highly likely that this item didn’t exist in ordinary shops or drop tables.
If that were the case, I couldn’t simply sell it away.
This was the only key to manifesting my power on Earth.
‘I’ll hold off for now.’
I closed the exchange window.
Then I retrieved another item from my inventory.
A hidden reward from Episode 2.
‘Heart of Bitter Cold’—that was its name.
A ring carved from transparent ice crystals.
Frigid energy radiated from it, and my fingertips tingled with numbness.
I stared intently at the ring.
Ding!
[Item: Heart of Bitter Cold]
[Grade: Mythic]
[Type: Ring]
[Basic Effect: Magic Power +100]
[Special Effect (1): You possess 50% immunity to cold attribute damage.]
[Special Effect (2): The power of cold attribute attacks increases by 50%.]
[Special Effect (3): Frostbind Wave. Upon attack, there is a certain probability of freezing the enemy.]
[Special Effect (4): Frostbind Thorns. Upon being hit, return powerful cold damage to the attacker.]
“Hah.”
Even seeing it again, I couldn’t help but laugh.
Truly, it was Mythic grade.
Every single option was invaluable.
Magic power boost, cold immunity enhancement, and special effects that covered both offense and defense.
‘Sell this for 5,000 Nectar?’
That would be madness.
No matter how desperately I needed quick funds, I couldn’t slaughter the goose that laid golden eggs.
Without hesitation, I slipped the ring onto the index finger of my left hand.
That was when it happened.
Vroooooom!
Space itself trembled.
Someone had appeared.
The very air itself emanated an overwhelming, suffocating pressure that bore down like a physical weight.
-Grrrrr…!
Angargon, perched on my shoulder, let out a shriek and burrowed into my arms.
The creature trembled like an aspen leaf in a gale.
So even Angargon, the dragon called the Great Calamity, could be reduced to this.
Shhhhring.
Abriel, the holy blade guarding my side, quivered in her scabbard.
Seria too had gone pale, her bow drawn, but her fingertips trembled with barely perceptible fear.
Primal terror.
An apex predator beyond our reach had arrived.
I lifted my head.
Cracks spiderwebbed across the White Ground, and from the fissures, a man emerged.
‘Heimdall.’
The God of Tempests himself—the one who had brought me to this place.
He stood with his arms crossed, looking down at me.
“It’s fine.”
I patted Angargon nestled in my embrace.
I gave Seria a subtle gesture.
A signal to lower her weapons.
Resistance would be meaningless.
‘I should have gone first.’
I had promised to seek him out as soon as I ascended the Tower.
I thought he would wait at least this long, yet here he was, coming to find me instead.
I rose to my feet.
And I bowed deeply at the waist.
Now was the time to show absolute deference.
“My sincerest apologies.”
I spoke with the utmost courtesy.
“I’ve been occupied and unable to pay my respects. I’ve only just been promoted and had much to arrange.”
My changed demeanor seemed to please Heimdall—his brow relaxed slightly.
The killing intent dissipated.
Yet his gaze remained sharp as a blade.
He surveyed the empty surroundings and clicked his tongue.
“Much to arrange, you say.”
His tone dripped with sarcasm.
“There’s nothing here. What exactly have you been arranging? Don’t tell me you’ve given up already?”
Disappointment colored his voice.
After bringing me here, I must have appeared to be abandoning my purpose.
I shook my head.
“I was in the midst of planning how to proceed.”
“Contemplation.”
Heimdall chuckled softly.
He fixed his gaze upon me, then spoke as though offering instruction.
“Remember this: cultivating your Floor must come first.”
“….”
“You must establish an ecosystem and raise the grade of your Floor. Only then will the System increase the amount of Nectar it distributes to you.”
So Floors had grades as well.
It seemed that by establishing an ecosystem and cultivating my assigned Floor to raise its grade, additional benefits would follow.
I feigned ignorance as I asked my question.
“Are there other methods to gather Nectar?”
“Do you seek instruction from me?”
“Yes. Please teach me. I wish to gather it faster and in greater quantities.”
My question made Heimdall’s eyes gleam.
Ambition.
He favors those with drive.
Heimdall clasped his hands behind his back and spoke with arrogance.
“There are methods. Three, to be precise.”
He extended one finger.
“First: gather your followers across the lands of Asgard, beyond the Tower.”
Followers.
The foundation of any faith.
“Grant them territory and guarantee their safety. Then select from among them those who will become ‘sacrifices.'”
“Sacrifices?”
“Place them upon the Altar of Sacrifice and have them burn themselves in sacred flame.”
Heimdall spoke of something horrifying as though it were nothing at all.
“The faith that pours forth as living sacrifices burn—when refined, it becomes the purest Nectar imaginable. It is the most efficient method.”
…This is madness.
Burning living people to transform them into Nectar?
My stomach churned.
But I kept my expression composed.
This is the world of the Deities.
Their ethics differ from those of mortals.
To Heimdall, mortals are merely livestock or resources.
“Second.”
He extended his second finger.
“Conquer dungeons. Dungeons are generated continuously throughout Asgard. Conquer them and claim their lands as your territory. Extract the core of each dungeon, and you shall obtain a respectable amount of Nectar.”
This is far more palatable.
Hunting and conquest.
My greatest strength.
“The final method: ascend the Floors of this Tower.”
Heimdall pointed toward the sky.
“Strengthen your layer and raise its grade. Then challenge the master of the next layer and claim victory. As you ascend, the nectar you obtain will naturally increase.”
The strong devour the weak.
The most certain method, and the most dangerous.
It was the most appealing proposal to me.
“These three paths are the surest ways to acquire nectar. Do you understand?”
“I will keep it in mind.”
As I bowed my head, Heimdall nodded with satisfaction.
He turned to leave, then paused.
As if remembering something, he added while looking at me.
“Ah, yes. Let me give you some motivation.”
The corners of his mouth lifted.
“If you elevate this desolate layer to ‘Grade A’ or higher.”
“….”
“I will gift you one of my treasured divine artifacts.”
A divine artifact.
Literally, the equipment of gods.
On an entirely different dimension from Mythic grade.
And if it was something Heimdall treasured, it could be even more valuable.
My interest was piqued. Intensely so.
“Of course, it won’t be easy.”
Heimdall chuckled softly.
“It will take at least several decades.”
Several decades, he said.
I lifted my head and met Heimdall’s gaze directly.
“You may look forward to it.”
Heimdall’s expression shifted to one of intrigue at the gleam in my eyes.
“Yes. I shall.”
Whoooosh!
Heimdall vanished with the wind.
As his overwhelming presence dissipated, Angargon finally poked his head out.
Seria exhaled a long breath.
I shrugged my shoulders.
‘That takes care of my worries.’
I opened my inventory.
‘Fragment of the Broken Golden Law.’
I pulled out a single fragment.
Converting just one of these would yield a million nectar.
Several decades?
Not a chance.
‘Let me show you what true capitalism really is.’
Ding!
[Converting 1 Shard of the Broken Golden Rule to ‘1,000,000’ Nectar.]
I pressed the exchange button.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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