The Mage Who Devours Disasters - Chapter 27

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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 27.
“Your typhoon means nothing to me!”
Kusan brimmed with confidence.
He had already withstood a typhoon before with his own body.
He was certain that mere wind could never pierce his hide.
That arrogance became his fatal mistake.
Roooaaarrr!
The moment the tempest touched him.
The sneer playing at Kusan’s lips froze solid.
“…?!”
This was no ordinary wind.
Within the vortex, countless microscopic ice blades swirled in a maelstrom beyond counting.
Screech! Screeeech!
“Kyaaaaaaagh!”
A scream tore free.
His hide, supposedly harder than steel, was shredded like tofu.
Flesh froze before it could even scatter, shattering into fragments.
Whoooom!
The Mythic-grade ring on my left hand, the Heart of Bitter Cold, trembled violently.
Cold attribute damage increased by 50%.
That insane buff poured fuel onto the annihilating gale.
“My, my body…!”
Kusan thrashed, desperate to escape.
But his feet would not move.
The ring’s special effect, Frostbind Pulse, had pierced through his status resistance and frozen his joints solid.
He could not move.
He could not defend.
‘Grind to dust.’
Roooaaarrrrrrrrng!
The grey tempest consumed him entirely.
Even the sound of bones grinding was swallowed by the howling wind.
Moments later.
Whiiiiing.
The tempest subsided.
Nothing remained in the center of the plaza.
Not Kusan, nor the spear he had wielded.
Only white-frosted blood powder drifted like snow.
“Huff, hah….”
I staggered.
My mana reserves had bottomed out.
An ancient-grade power.
Its destructive force was undeniable, but its endurance was pathetically weak.
It had drained my entire mana pool in mere seconds.
Yet the result was intoxicating.
Ding!
[Combat ended.]
[You have overcome an overwhelming disparity!]
[A remarkable achievement!]
[Your level has increased!]
A victory so decisive that even the System marveled at it.
A cascade of reward notifications flooded my vision.
[Based on combat results, you will roll a die (1~100).]
[100!]
[Congratulations! The ‘Lucky Die’ has been activated!]
[You may roll the ‘Lucky Die’ once more and add the result to your existing total!]
[Rolling the Lucky Die!]
‘The Lucky Die…!’
The Lucky Die.
I had only heard of it; I had never witnessed it firsthand.
A bonus chance triggered at abysmal odds when the die result approached its maximum—an opportunity to roll again and add the new number to the previous one.
This was my chance to do exactly that.
‘Surely not.’
The old me had been cursed with misfortune.
But now, everything was different.
I swallowed hard and cast the die.
Clatter, clatter, clatter.
[100!]
[Total: 200!]
[You receive a limit-break reward!]
‘200!’
An insane number.
Light cascaded down.
A pair of black leather shoes materialized from the void and fell before me.
Black shoes embroidered with crimson thread in an otherworldly pattern.
The moment I laid eyes on them, my breath caught.
[Item: Heavenly Demon Shoes]
[Grade: Mythic]
[Durability: Infinite (Indestructible)]
[Equip Requirement: All stats 400 or higher]
[Basic Effect: All stats +150]
[Special Effect (1): Swift Speed. Movement speed increases by 100%.]
[Special Effect (2): Water Walking. You can run across water.]
…Another piece of the Celestial Demon set had been added.
I never imagined I’d obtain it here.
A miraculous gift brought by the fortune die.
My level rose at just the right moment, fulfilling the equip requirements.
And more than that.
[Set Effect (1/5) → (2/5) has been updated.]
[Set Effect ‘Celestial Demon Divine Art’ has been activated!]
Shiver!
My body trembled violently.
A chill ran through me.
Before my regression, the Celestial Demon’s equipment existed.
Every time a single piece was discovered, blood rained from the sky.
International conflicts erupted, and massive guilds crumbled overnight.
Even the world’s top ten strongest warriors barely managed to possess a single piece.
Yet now.
I had gathered two pieces.
It was unprecedented in history.
Uuuuoooong!
The armor and boots resonated with each other.
Black heat shimmer enveloped my body.
It was far more than a simple stat increase.
A phantom appeared before my eyes.
A lone warrior practicing martial arts in pitch-black darkness.
It was the afterimage of the Celestial Demon.
He thrust his fist forward.
He swung his blade and stepped forth.
Within those simple movements lay the entire cosmos.
‘…Martial Arts.’
Information flooded into my mind.
Enlightenment struck me.
‘This is instruction.’
I recalled the battle with Kusan from moments ago.
It had been grueling.
My power was overwhelming, but the risk was immense.
Mana consumption was severe, and cooldown windows created vulnerabilities.
What if Kusan had pierced through that tempest and reached me?
I would have died.
‘The limits of a mage.’
I had been a thoroughly orthodox mage.
Maintain distance, unleash firepower—a cannon’s role.
That’s why I couldn’t even properly wield Abriel.
Despite possessing the greatest weapon, a Holy Sword, I treated it as nothing more than a ranged throwing implement.
Because I didn’t know how to grip a blade properly.
Because I shunned close combat.
‘That’s wrong.’
I couldn’t kill all the Deities that way.
Enemies like Kusan—or those who burrow in even faster—would inevitably appear.
I had to change.
I had to become both a mage and a martial master simultaneously.
‘Break the orthodoxy.’
I had to overcome it. I had to shed my old skin.
Once I mastered the Heavenly Demon Divine Art, everything would be different.
Close range and long range.
Magic and martial prowess.
I could become a monster that encompassed all of it.
I clenched my fists.
I turned my head.
“….”
Seria stood before me.
She stared at me in a daze.
Reverence.
Her eyes gleamed with an overwhelming mixture of fear and respect.
The power that had erased Kusan in a single strike.
And now she was overwhelmed by the aura of the Heavenly Demon radiating from my body.
But I had no time to indulge in sentiment.
The flames atop the Altar still burned fiercely.
The screams of the elves echoed in my ears.
“Seria.”
I called her name.
She snapped back to awareness.
“Yes, yes! Master!”
“Admiration later.”
I gestured toward the Plaza with a tilt of my chin.
“Go save them. They’re your kin.”
“…!”
Seria’s eyes widened.
She looked toward the Altar.
Then she looked back at me.
“May I take my leave?”
“You have my permission.”
I turned away.
“I’ll handle the cleanup here. You focus on what you need to do.”
Seria’s lips pressed into a tight line.
She bowed deeply.
“Thank you…!”
Whoosh!
She bolted away instantly.
Her retreating figure showed no hesitation.
I watched her go and let out a quiet chuckle.
Then I turned my gaze forward once more.
Kusan was dead.
The gatekeeper had fallen.
Which meant only one remained.
The master of this territory.
The Frost Deity, Cryos.
There was no way he could be unaware of this commotion.
He would realize it soon enough.
Once he learned that Kusan was dead, he might even descend personally.
A direct confrontation would mean certain defeat.
Even though I had ascended the Tower and obtained divine status, I was still not on equal footing with another lower-tier deity.
He was a monster who had accumulated divine power over countless ages.
I had barely managed to subdue Kusan, the gatekeeper himself.
I had to clean this up quickly and escape.
Clang! Clang!
Seria leaped onto the Altar.
Her hands moved with frantic urgency.
Chains snapped apart.
Frost Tribe Elves, scorched by flames, tumbled to the ground.
“Wake up! Everyone, get up!”
Seria cried out desperately.
At the sound of her voice, focus returned to the hazy eyes of the elves.
Among them, the dead far outnumbered the living.
But those who had survived desperately lifted their heads.
Their gazes fixed upon Seria.
“…S-Seria?”
An old man with a face ravaged by burns reached out a trembling hand.
He was the Tribe Elder.
“Is it really you, Seria? You’re alive.”
“Elder…”
Seria supported the Old Man.
Thick tears rolled down the Elder’s cheeks.
It was frustration.
“Why… why have you returned?”
The Elder struck his chest.
“We have been waiting. Waiting for you to return as a god.”
“What do you mean…?”
“We made a pact with the Frost Deity. He said if we willingly became sacrifices and offered him nectar, he would use that power to make you a god! Only then could we reclaim our stolen lands, he said!”
Seria’s expression crumbled.
A lie.
A blatant, shameless lie.
Cryos had only ever intended to use them as fuel and discard them.
The tribe had sacrificed themselves believing that deception.
For me.
To make me a god.
“Ah…”
Seria sank to the ground.
Guilt tightened around her throat.
I grasped Seria’s shoulder.
“Stand up.”
I spoke with resolve.
“There’s no time for tears.”
This was no moment for sentiment.
I surveyed the surviving Frost Tribe members.
Barely dozens.
Children and women who had been hiding in the corners of the plaza, behind the rubble of buildings, crawled out.
Altogether, there were perhaps a hundred at most.
Their eyes held nothing but despair.
I spoke with conviction.
“Your land is gone.”
The elves looked at me.
“Staying here will only make you sacrifices.”
“Then where are we to go?”
The Elder’s voice turned bitter.
I pointed toward the Tower of Gods.
“I will give you new lands.”
“…?”
“A place without cold, without suffering, without exploitation. There, you can begin anew.”
I extended my hand.
“Choose. Either die a dog’s death here, or follow me and rise again.”
The elves murmured amongst themselves.
Doubt clouded their eyes.
Understandably so.
They were the ones betrayed by a deity and made into sacrifices.
Trusting another god would not come easily.
Then, Seria rose to her feet.
She wiped away her tears.
And stood beside me.
“Believe him.”
Seria spoke with unwavering conviction.
“This is Rag. He is the lord I serve, and he has come to save us.”
“Seria, you serve this god?”
“Yes. He is nothing like the Frost Deity. Rag keeps his promises.”
Seria gazed at me.
The hostile demeanor from before had vanished entirely.
Her eyes burned with longing and desperate hope.
She prayed—over and over—that I would be different from Cryos, the Frost Deity.
“….”
“….”
The tribe members exchanged glances with one another.
They had no other choice.
After all, I had killed Kusan and saved them.
Staying here meant death regardless.
The Elder knelt on trembling knees.
“…We shall follow you. Please save us.”
The entire Frost Tribe bowed their heads to me.
* * *
Cryos, the Frost Deity, sat upon his throne.
His mood was foul.
The supply of nectar had dwindled today.
‘Lazy wretches. I told them to stoke the flames harder.’
Then it happened.
Boom!
The doors to the Throne Hall burst open violently.
A soldier crawled inside.
He was drenched in blood.
With one arm severed, he dragged himself across the floor until he reached the base of the throne.
“C-Cryos, my lord…!”
“What is the matter.”
Cryos furrowed his brow.
The soldier lifted his head, gasping for breath.
His eyes were filled with terror.
“K-Kusan… he was attacked.”
“What?”
Cryos’s eyebrows twitched.
Kusan.
The gatekeeper who guarded the entrance to this Layer.
Simple-minded, but his martial prowess was beyond question.
Yet Kusan had been defeated?
“Who did it? Which faction?”
“That’s… that’s…”
The soldier swallowed hard.
“He said he was… Heimdall’s messenger.”
“…Heimdall?”
Cryos doubted his own ears.
Heimdall, the Typhoon Deity.
The apex of the Natural Faction. A supreme-tier Deity.
Why would he possibly…?
“The messenger appeared and… tore Kusan to shreds… and stole all the offerings.”
“The offerings?”
“Yes. He took every last one of the Frost Tribe Elves with him.”
Silence.
Cryos’s mind churned with complexity.
Heimdall had sent a messenger.
He killed my subordinate.
And he seized the elves—my source of nectar.
What was the reason?
No matter how I considered it, nothing made sense.
Above all, the method was far too aggressive.
He could have simply sent a messenger to negotiate, yet he murdered the gatekeeper and plundered everything?
This was unmistakably an act of hostility.
A declaration of war.
Of course, there was no chance he could stand against Heimdall.
“Are you certain? Was it truly Heimdall’s messenger?”
“Y-yes, absolutely! I saw it with my own eyes… the staff he wielded, that divine artifact that summons typhoons!”
A divine artifact?
There was no room for doubt.
Cryos bit his lip.
Yet there was not without recourse.
He was an Apostle Deity, after all.
If the supreme god that Cryos served commanded it, even the legendary Heimdall would be powerless to resist!
“…I must seek an audience with Skadi.”

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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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