The Mage Who Devours Disasters - Chapter 20

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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 20.
The sky above the Golden City twisted.
Kwaaaaaaaa!
The clouds were torn asunder.
A colossal vortex rose up, devouring even the light of the artificial sun.
The very fabric of space itself shredded to ribbons—the embodiment of destructive power.
A typhoon that rends and slaughters.
It was the staff’s triumphant roar upon meeting its true master.
“…!”
Heimdall’s shoulders trembled.
A chill ran through him.
It had taken him ten years to master this staff completely.
Countless trials and communion had been necessary.
But this one?
A single gesture.
In that fleeting instant, he had bent the staff to his absolute will.
‘Overwhelming talent.’
That single word was insufficient.
This was a difference in caliber.
Heimdall was certain of it.
Zero aptitude for calamity?
It was absurd.
Not because his vessel was empty.
Rather, his capacity was so vast that no mere measuring instrument could possibly contain it.
‘An irresistible force.’
Suddenly, the name of the Absolute Deity that he had spoken echoed in my mind.
Perhaps he truly was worthy of that name.
A force that cannot be resisted.
Possessed of an absolute talent that overwhelms all things.
‘He is more than sufficient to be my first apostle.’
Heimdall’s eyes gleamed with desire.
This one.
This one was more than worthy to be groomed as the successor to my legacy.
A position I have never granted to anyone before.
Rag was more than qualified.
He gazed upon Rag.
The boy stood rigid.
Sinews stood out on the hand gripping the staff, his expression frozen hard as stone, utterly motionless.
‘Was he moved?’
Heimdall let out a soft chuckle.
It was understandable.
A lesser deity had obtained the cherished weapon of a supreme deity.
It was only natural that he couldn’t contain such overwhelming emotion.
Or perhaps his body had stiffened momentarily from the backlash of summoning the typhoon.
A soft touch.
Heimdall placed a hand on Rag’s shoulder.
It was an intimacy he would never have imagined under normal circumstances.
“Congratulations.”
It was sincere.
Not pretense or hypocrisy, but genuine praise from a senior deity.
“You have exceeded my expectations.”
Other deities would have been shocked to witness this.
That arrogant and temperamental Heimdall, offering such tender praise to a mere fledgling of Floor 2.
But Heimdall didn’t care.
Rag had simply captured his interest.
‘This one can shake the Tower.’
Stagnant water inevitably rots.
Asgard had become far too static and tedious.
The deities had grown complacent, rejecting all change.
But this one was different.
He would become a true typhoon.
A bell that would sweep through this dreary Tower, seize the collars of slumbering deities, and shake them awake.
Rag didn’t respond.
He simply stared into the void with a rigid expression.
Heimdall found even that silence admirable.
A weighty one.
He even appreciated the prudence of not speaking carelessly.
“The usage is simple.”
Heimdall added a helpful explanation.
“This staff allows for ‘remote projection.’ You don’t need to be at the scene yourself.”
He pointed to the crystal at the center of the layer.
“Display a map on the crystal, mark your desired coordinates, and swing the staff. The typhoon will fall there. Anywhere within your territory is possible.”
Strategic bombardment.
The power to rain calamity upon an enemy’s head from where you sit.
This was the true authority of a ruler.
“You must be exhausted. Rest for a while.”
Heimdall patted Rag’s shoulder.
He turned away with a satisfied smile.
“Oh, and.”
As if remembering something, he turned back and continued.
“It seems there’s an unidentified entity hunting lesser deities within the Tower lately. The Investigators are looking into it, but they’re running into difficulties. We should at least take some precautions.”
A final piece of advice.
There was nothing more to say.
Rag had already demonstrated enough.
Whiiiiiing!
Heimdall vanished with the wind.
The overwhelming divine presence lifted, and peace returned to the Golden City.
Bluebirds sang again, and mist rose from the hot spring waters.
But.
“….”
Rag didn’t move.
Even after Heimdall disappeared, I remained frozen like a statue.
* * *
Heimdall had vanished.
But I couldn’t move.
The staff in my grip.
This divine artifact, with its ominous name “Staff of the Typhoon That Tears Apart and Kills,” was vibrating as if boring into my palm.
The bet had been simple.
Far too simple.
‘Fragment of the Shattered Golden Ratio’.
I sold exactly one.
I earned one million Nectar and poured it all into Floor 2.
[The Floor has been promoted to A-Rank!]
[The amount of Nectar granted every 30 days increases by 300%.]
[The quality of items purchasable from the Crystal Store is upgraded.]
The result was A-Rank achievement.
Thanks to this, the Nectar distributed every 30 days increased by 300%.
From the original 100 to 300—a pittance, admittedly—but as I climbed higher, this growth would expand exponentially.
Most importantly, the shop had unlocked.
High-grade magical beasts, special terrain, and rare resources purchasable only from A-Rank and above floors were now available in abundance.
An ordinary deity would have built a fortress with this.
They would have dug traps and unleashed monsters to repel intruders.
But I was different.
I transformed this place into a resort.
Defense? Attack?
Such things were unnecessary.
I was now under the protection of Heimdall, the Deity of Typhoons.
He descended personally and even bestowed upon me a divine artifact.
The moment this rumor spread, no deity, however bold, would dare covet my Floor.
At least for the foreseeable future, it was an absolutely secure Safe Zone.
That’s why I focused this place on ‘cultivation’.
A sanctuary for my recovery and that of my subordinates.
And a training ground to nurture only elite forces.
I despise half-baked numerical warfare.
It’s all about quality.
Pierce through the Tower with a small elite force.
That was my plan.
“….”
My thoughts ended there.
I lowered my head and gazed at the staff.
Heimdall kept his promise.
He casually handed over an object that took him ten years to tame himself.
The moment I grasped the staff, I understood.
How to use this thing.
Inject mana and swing it.
Then the gem embedded in the staff’s tip calculates coordinates and projects a typhoon to that location.
I swung it as a test.
The sky tore open and a typhoon swept through.
Heimdall marveled.
He spared no praise.
But I couldn’t smile.
Even Heimdall’s final advice as he departed failed to reach my ears.
My gaze was fixed solely on the swirling typhoon above the sky.
‘This wind.’
It felt familiar.
Far too familiar.
It was different from a mere natural typhoon.
That distinctive rotation.
A sharp, blade-like wind that seemed to tear space itself.
I had definitely seen this before.
In TV news broadcasts.
On the front page of internet articles.
And in nightmares repeated thousands of times in my dreams!
-Ring, ring.
The phone’s ringtone echoed in my ears like a phantom sound.
That day.
My parents’ anniversary trip.
The final image of the two of them departing with happy smiles.
-Hello? Is this Kim Jung-seok?
The voice through the receiver was dry.
It was businesslike.
Which made it all the more cruel.
-I regret to inform you… the aircraft has crashed.
-What?
-We encountered unexpected turbulence over the Pacific Ocean. Or rather, it was a typhoon.
A typhoon.
An abrupt, monstrous one that hadn’t appeared in any weather forecast.
A phantom wind that hadn’t even registered on radar.
-Survivors are… still being confirmed, but I’m afraid you should prepare yourselves.
There was no preparing for this.
The news reported the accident day after day.
It was horrific.
The passenger jet hadn’t crashed.
It had been ‘shredded’ in midair.
As if ground through a colossal blender.
Recovery of bodies?
Impossible.
All the rescue teams found were unidentifiable fragments of flesh and torn clothing.
There was no way to identify who was who.
The remains were so grotesquely mingled and destroyed that even DNA testing would have been meaningless.
An empty coffin sat in the funeral hall.
I stood before the memorial photograph in a daze.
I couldn’t even cry.
I simply stared at the empty coffin and wondered.
What kind of wind could have blown?
What force could shred a person, a massive metal aircraft, into such pieces?
The sole survivor: Park Ha-yan.
Her survival was a miracle.
No—the word “miracle” hardly sufficed.
That she’d escaped that hellish tempest with nothing worse than a crushed spine could only mean the Deity had intervened.
But.
‘It was definitely before the Cataclysm.’
I bit my lip.
I tasted blood.
That accident occurred on March 14th, 2026—long before the Tower appeared in the world.
Before the Deities invaded Earth.
Before the Deity of Calamity created avatars.
So I believed it was a natural disaster.
Bad luck.
An unavoidable accident, though I resented the heavens for it.
Thus I convinced myself.
But then.
“….”
I tightened my grip on the staff.
Heimdall’s words flashed through my mind.
-This staff can perform ‘remote projection’.
-Display a map on the crystal, and mark your desired coordinates.
-A typhoon will fall there.
Coordinates.
Remote projection.
And a ‘typhoon that tears everything to shreds’.
The puzzle pieces fit together.
Perfectly. Chillingly so.
What if.
The Deities hadn’t suddenly appeared on the day of the cataclysm?
What if they’d been watching Earth all along?
From atop the Tower, seated upon Asgard’s throne, looking down upon us.
For amusement, or perhaps to test their power.
They could have unleashed their authority upon specific coordinates on Earth.
Like spamming skills in a game.
‘Was it you?’
You who sent this vicious typhoon upon the plane my parents were on.
Heimdall.
The Deity of Typhoons.
Master of all things.
…So that bastard was the culprit.
A divine artifact not easily wielded.
The thought that anyone else could have used it barely crossed my mind.
“…Ha.”
Laughter escaped me.
It was far from hollow.
My murderous intent was so thick that it leaked out as laughter instead.
I lifted my head.
My gaze pierced the empty space where Heimdall had vanished.
He had taken a liking to me.
‘…It’s not time to show my claws yet.’
I erased all expression from my face.
I placed the staff into my inventory.
That bastard is strong.
If I challenged him now, I’d die a dog’s death.
I must grow stronger.
So that he never suspects me.
Instead, he will trust me and draw me into his embrace.
I must perform flawlessly.
The loyal junior deity.
The ambitious rising star.
And when the moment comes.
I will push him down from the highest place of all.
‘Nothing will change.’
After all, I always intended to annihilate the Tower Gods.
Every last one of them, without exception.

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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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