The Mage Who Devours Disasters - Chapter 28

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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 28.
Garden of Gods.
Frost descended upon the once-peaceful paradise.
The flowing fountains froze solid.
Flowers in full bloom withered and crumbled to dust in an instant.
Heimdall set down the goblet he had been holding.
His brow furrowed.
“How discourteous.”
He swept his hand through the air.
Warm wind rushed forth, pushing back the chill.
But the intruder paid no heed.
Click. Click.
A woman approached, her footsteps echoing across the frozen marble floor.
Hair white as snow.
Eyes of glacial blue, cold enough to freeze even the heart itself.
Skadi, the Frost Deity.
Even Heimdall, master of all creation, could not treat her with careless disregard.
Heimdall feigned composure as he spoke.
“What brings the Winter Queen to my garden? And what compels you to ruin it so thoroughly?”
Skadi did not answer.
She stepped directly into his face.
Murderous intent radiated from her.
The surrounding air crackled and split with a sharp sound.
“Heimdall.”
Her lips parted.
“Your dog bit my child.”
Heimdall’s eyebrows rose.
“A dog? I keep no dogs.”
“Do not play dumb with me.”
Skadi’s eyes flashed with fury.
“Your messenger invaded my apostle’s territory. He slew my child Cryos’s subordinate and wreaked havoc.”
Heimdall paused inwardly.
A messenger?
I sent no one.
“This is a misunderstanding. I sent no messenger.”
“Ha.”
Skadi laughed coldly.
“The evidence is clear. He carried something, or so I’m told.”
She spoke each word with deliberate weight.
“Your divine artifact. The Staff of the Tempest That Tears All Asunder.”
“….”
Heimdall’s expression hardened.
The staff.
There was only one.
A treasure I had cherished.
The very divine artifact I gifted to the master of Floor 2.
‘Rag?’
Could it be that bastard?
My mind raced.
I told him to quietly develop his layer, yet he marched into the Northern Territory?
Why on earth?
Cryos, the Frost Deity, is a lower-tier god.
He’s too formidable an opponent for Rag, who has only just ascended to Floor 2.
Yet he went there of his own volition and caused a commotion?
But I couldn’t let it show on my face.
Admitting ignorance here would damage my dignity.
Above all, Rag was an apostle candidate I had marked.
I crossed my arms brazenly.
“Ah, that one.”
“You’re only remembering now?”
“Yes. I sent him on an errand. But what of it?”
I snorted dismissively.
“My messenger would never attack without cause. He must have been provoked first.”
“What?”
“It’s obvious. He was treated with the same discourtesy as your creature who suddenly invaded my Garden without manners.”
A reversal of blame.
Implying her subordinate and mine were equally at fault.
“…Manners?”
Skadi’s brow furrowed.
“You call destroying the fortress gate and plundering offerings manners?”
“What offerings are you talking about?”
“My child had gathered the Frost Tribe to obtain Nectar, and your messenger stole them all away. Is this the ‘errand’ you speak of?”
She called it theft.
But inwardly, I was impressed.
‘The Frost Tribe?’
Rag, this one.
He’s no ordinary being.
When I mentioned needing followers, he invaded another’s territory and seized them.
It’s far from theft.
It’s conquest.
‘This is quite to my liking.’
Indeed, if she’s a candidate to become my apostle deity, she should know how to make a scene like that.
But Skadi’s fury was crossing a threshold.
“Heimdall. This is a declaration of war against me.”
A blizzard swirled around Skadi.
“Moreover, you’re no mere messenger. I hear you have an ‘apostle’?”
“…An apostle?”
“Don’t bother hiding it. I’ve received reports.”
Skadi fixed Heimdall with a piercing gaze.
“That one wielded divine authority, I’m told.”
Heimdall tilted his head inwardly, confused.
Rag wielded divine authority?
“Your typhoon. And….”
Skadi continued.
“Hellfire.”
“….”
“A vicious authority that melts and incinerates the earth, or so I’ve heard. A typhoon and flames. It’s impossible for one who commands two opposing forces simultaneously to be merely a messenger.”
Skadi spoke with absolute conviction.
“Unless you deliberately cultivated an apostle deity, such a thing would be impossible.”
Heimdall fell silent.
His mind was in turmoil.
Rag’s aptitude was ‘Void’.
He received a zero on the Calamity Aptitude Assessment.
Yet he wielded a typhoon and hellfire?
The staff is a divine artifact, so that much is understandable.
But hellfire?
“Why are you silent?”
Skadi pressed him.
“Are you admitting it? That he’s your apostle?”
Heimdall composed his expression.
He curved his lips upward.
“Well.”
He answered ambiguously.
Then he added:
“It’s a children’s quarrel.”
Heimdall chuckled softly as he spoke.
“What would we gain by interfering? It’s beneath us.”
“….”
“Why don’t we let the two of them settle it themselves? We both withdraw our hands until a victor emerges.”
A flicker of intrigue crossed Skadi’s eyes.
The calculation was clear.
Rag was merely a fledgling who had just ascended to Floor 2.
Cryos, by contrast, was an experienced Deity who dominated Tower Floor 50.
They were incomparable in terms of accumulated divine essence or military strength.
Truly, a firefly and the sun.
“…Not bad.”
Skadi twisted the corner of her mouth upward.
Naturally, this was a battle her child would win.
There was no need for her to personally intervene and clash with Heimdall.
“Very well. I accept.”
“However.”
Heimdall held up three fingers.
“Let us grant a deadline. Thirty days, perhaps.”
“Thirty days?”
“War requires preparation, does it not? A month from now, whether Cryos strikes at Rag or not—I shall not interfere. Until then, do not lay a hand on him.”
Skadi let out a derisive snort.
Merely a month.
No matter how desperately Rag struggled in that time, the outcome would not change.
“So be it. I grant you thirty days of reprieve.”
Skadi turned her body away.
A blizzard swirled violently around her.
“But should you break your promise, you shall face true war with me. Remember this well.”
Whiiiiing!
Skadi vanished.
Warmth returned to the frozen Garden.
Yet Heimdall’s expression had grown even colder and more rigid.
“….”
He fingered an empty cup absently.
His mind churned with complexity.
‘He wielded the power of hellfire.’
Skadi was not one to speak falsehoods.
The fact that Rag had simultaneously employed both typhoon and hellfire—it must be true.
‘It makes no sense.’
Typhoon is wind.
Hellfire carries the attributes of flame and earth.
Their natures are fundamentally different.
They are outright antithetical.
No matter how much divine essence one possessed, if it did not align with one’s aptitude, it would be difficult to wield.
Yet he wielded two contradictory forces with such freedom?
‘His claim of lacking talent was a lie.’
Heimdall’s eyes narrowed to slits.
The man didn’t lack aptitude for calamities.
Rather, there was a high probability he possessed the capacity to handle multiple calamities.
‘Even Nectar is like that.’
Vast funds from an unknown source.
Hidden talents.
And knowing the name of the Absolute Deity at that.
He was hiding far too much from me.
“…Infuriating bastard.”
Heimdall muttered under his breath.
Normally, I would have summoned him immediately and forced a full confession.
I would have bellowed at him for daring to deceive me.
But.
‘How entertaining.’
Heimdall refilled his glass.
A man brimming with secrets.
One who refuses to show all his cards.
Yet the Tower of Gods is a place where one cannot survive by revealing everything.
That’s precisely why I’m so intrigued.
How will a Deity of Floor 2 survive against a Deity of Floor 50?
I grew curious about what other miracles—or rather, what other deceptions—Rag would pull off during that month.
“Go ahead and struggle, Rag.”
Heimdall leaned back against his chair.
“If you survive, I’ll overlook all those lies.”
* * *
“Is this…heaven?”
The Frost Tribe Elder asked in a trembling voice.
It was understandable.
A Golden Temple.
An artificial sun radiating warmth throughout all four seasons.
Earth brimming with magical power and pristine hot spring waters.
For those who had suffered through bitter cold and starvation, my Floor 2 must have seemed like paradise itself.
“Paradise, my ass.”
I replied indifferently.
“It’s just my home.”
I waved my hand.
Dozens of bottles containing Nectar floated up into the air.
“Drink.”
“This, this is…!”
The elves’ eyes widened in astonishment.
Golden liquid.
They had devoted their entire lives to producing and offering it, yet never once had it touched their own lips.
“Sacrifices are unnecessary. Rather, you must drink this and recover.”
I spoke with unwavering conviction.
“Eat well, sleep well, and restore your health. That is your duty now.”
“Ah….”
Sobs erupted from every corner.
They trembled as they accepted the Nectar with shaking hands.
With each sip, vitality surged through their wounded bodies.
Their skin regained its luster, and life returned to eyes that had been fading.
It was a miracle.
Enslaved wretches now sat at their master’s table, partaking in a grand feast.
Thud.
Seria knelt before me.
Her eyes glistened with tears.
“Master….”
She pressed her forehead to the ground and swore an oath.
“My life, and everything of our tribe, belongs to you. I shall never betray you, for all eternity.”
I could feel the sincerity in her words.
No System Message was needed to understand.
Their loyalty had already shattered the threshold.
But.
Peace was short-lived.
Whoooosh!
A sudden gust erupted without warning.
A wind far different from my tempest—pure and immense, brimming with primal force.
A transparent form materialized in the void.
Sylph, the spirit of wind.
Heimdall’s true messenger.
[I bring a message.]
The spirit’s voice was austere.
[My lord says this: thirty days.]
“Thirty days?”
[The war with Cryos has been postponed for thirty days. You shall be safe until then.]
Relief began to wash over me, but the spirit added:
[However, after that time, we withdraw our hand. Whether you triumph or fall, my lord shall not intervene.]
“….”
[I wish you fortune.]
Poof.
The spirit delivered its message and vanished.
The wind had ceased.
Yet within my heart, a tempest raged.
‘Damn it.’
I bit my lip.
I had thought that offering up Heimdall’s name would let me slip through easily enough.
But my opponent was the master of Tower Floor 50.
‘I was far too naive.’
Regret washed over me.
But I quickly shook my head.
No.
If not for Heimdall, Cryos would have attacked tomorrow itself.
Had that happened, I would have died without lifting a finger.
Thirty days.
The final opportunity Heimdall had granted me—and his consideration.
‘Should I even be grateful for this?’
The situation was dire.
A mere novice who had just ascended to Floor 2 now faced war against a stagnant ancient of Tower Floor 50 in a month’s time.
Odds of victory?
Even calculated coldly, zero percent.
The disparity in forces, in divine rank, in resources.
We were no match in every conceivable way.
“Master.”
Seria approached.
Her face was ashen.
She had heard every word the messenger spoke.
“I’m sorry. It’s because of me….”
Her lips trembled.
“We’ll leave. We’ll abandon the Tower. Then the war….”
“Enough.”
I cut her off.
“Leaving won’t solve anything.”
I gazed up at the empty sky.
“I’ve already slain his gatekeeper. Do you think he’ll stop just because you disappear?”
The pretext had been established.
Cryos would devour me.
He needed to make an example so that other lesser deities wouldn’t dare crawl upward.
Seria lowered her head.
Her fists clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her flesh.
Helplessness.
The self-reproach of knowing her very existence had become a burden to her master.
I tapped her shoulder sharply.
“So if you have time to whine, pick up that bow instead.”
“…What?”
“Thirty days. Grow strong enough to sever their necks within that time, and we’re done.”
The words came easily, but my insides burned with urgency.
How?
How in the world could I bridge a fifty-floor gap in a single month?
There was only one method.
‘Gluttony.’
I had no choice but to devour everything like a madman.
I checked my inventory.
Two pieces of the Celestial Demon Set.
And the Holy Sword Abriel.
‘Celestial Demon Divine Art.’
If I synthesized the Celestial Demon’s martial techniques using Abriel as a conduit, my combat power would skyrocket.
But that alone wasn’t enough.
I needed more Authority.
Hellfire and typhoons alone couldn’t stop Cryos’s army.
More calamities.
More overwhelming power was necessary.
‘Episode 3.’
Earth’s time was approaching.
A large-scale disaster.
An era of chaos where countless avatars stirred simultaneously.
Hell itself, but also a hunting ground of opportunity.
‘I’ll consume it all.’
My eyes blazed with determination.
I would hunt down every single avatar and absorb their Authority.
Then combine them, layer upon layer.
I would become a monster even Cryos couldn’t handle.
I looked at Seria and issued my command.
“Don’t think you’ll be resting either. I’ll pour Nectar into you—train like your life depends on it.”
Seria’s eyes transformed.
Venom.
A desperate will to survive, to protect her master, ignited within her.
“I shall remember your words.”
She gripped her bow tightly.
The preparations for war had begun.
* * *
Ding!
[‘Episode 3, The First Calamity’ begins.]
[Calamitous entities emerge across the world.]
[May fortune favor you.]

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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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