The Mage Who Devours Disasters - Chapter 38

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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 38.
“….”
My breath caught in my throat.
My thoughts froze.
A dizziness washed over me, as if someone were squeezing my brain itself.
With trembling eyes, I examined the System Message that had materialized before me once more.
[Currently Bestowed Soul: ‘Irresistible Force’]
Irresistible Force.
The Absolute Deity.
That existence which gazed down upon us from the highest reaches of the Tower, from that distant, unreachable pinnacle, savoring Earth’s annihilation as mere entertainment.
The worst of demons, who sipped wine while watching humanity despair, scream, and finally crumble to dust.
The very being I had destroyed by shattering my own heart in a mutual annihilation.
‘Why is this monster inside me?’
I could not comprehend it.
I had killed it. I was certain of it.
I had sent the Sage’s Stone into runaway overload and obliterated its existence.
And then I had returned.
Soul bestowal?
I had no memory of ever attempting such a thing.
Yet it dwelled in the deepest recesses of my soul?
‘Ah.’
A memory surfaced through the chaos—a fragment that had been buried in my mind.
Just before regression, a System voice had echoed from the pitch-black darkness.
[You have slain the Absolute Deity, ‘Irresistible Force’.]
[You have become the first to annihilate an existence beyond human resistance.]
[You absorb the ‘Causality’ of Irresistible Force.]
Causality!
At the time, I had dismissed it as merely an Achievement, a reward, or perhaps a title.
But it was not.
Causality was the very proof of existence itself.
It was the tangled mass of cause and effect that wove destiny, and the soul of divinity incarnate.
‘So that’s why the Sword Saint’s soul was terrified.’
It made sense now.
Garcia’s Sword Saint is a legend.
The soul of a hero who had once upheld an entire world—its very essence transcended the ordinary.
But Irresistible Force was something far beyond that. An absolute being.
The hierarchy was incomparable.
A rabbit had willingly entered a den where a tiger already lay coiled, and instinct had seized it with such overwhelming dread that it recoiled in terror.
An oppressive, absolute difference in rank that froze even the soul itself.
I stood motionless, my hand trembling across my chest.
The fact that a fragment of that creature was embedded in the very place where my heart beat sent chills down my spine.
‘The conditions for bestowing a soul.’
The System had presented three conditions.
Aptitude, loyalty, and apostolic qualification.
Let me examine each one.
I am not an apostle of the Absolute Deity.
Rather, I am a god-slayer who killed that creature.
Loyalty?
It’s at a level where I’d descend through the negatives all the way to the Underground Inner Core.
Aptitude?
Unknown, but the conditions themselves don’t hold in the first place.
Yet it has been bestowed upon me.
It clings like gum, refusing to come off.
‘…So that’s why.’
The puzzle pieces fit together.
The class I obtained the moment I regressed.
[Calamity Devourer.]
And the title [Greatest Calamity].
This was not a gift from the System.
It was the very authority of that creature, manifested as the soul of the Absolute Deity entered my body.
The power of the Absolute Deity who commanded the Deities of Calamity and presided over all catastrophes.
That power, distorted and transformed through the medium of the human body called Kim Jung-seok, had resulted in this class.
“Ha.”
A hollow laugh escaped me.
The irony was bitter.
To kill a god, to annihilate those creatures, I was wielding divine power.
And worse, I was borrowing the strength of my greatest enemy, the one who had destroyed my world.
Behind the laughter came a wave of bitterness, but I soon wiped the expression from my face.
‘It doesn’t matter.’
I clenched my fist tightly.
Power itself is neither good nor evil.
It only changes depending on who wields it.
Whether that creature’s soul resides within me or not, whether it’s a fragment or the true form, none of it matters.
What matters is that I am now perfectly controlling that power.
In fact, this is fortunate.
Now that I know my vessel is already full, I can avoid unnecessary trial and error.
I slowly nodded to myself.
Now only Garcia’s Sword Saint and Grand Sage Plutonium remain.
Especially… Plutonium.
The Grand Sage.
I learned much from him.
About the principles of magic, and about life itself in a crumbling world.
In my heart, I followed him like a master; outwardly, I bickered with him like a cherished friend.
After all, he was the only one among the Final Party’s five who I could truly communicate with.
‘…Whose avatar was he?’
Which Deity wore that benevolent face like a mask and deceived me?
When we despaired, how much did they laugh in secret?
When we sang of hope, how much did they find it pathetic?
They smiled kindly on the surface, but surely they were cackling beneath.
And I, knowing none of this….
‘Damn it.’
My insides twisted.
How many were there?
Yamamoto, Aritolte.
Were you avatars too?
Humanity’s Last Coalition.
The five hundred elite members who formed its foundation.
I couldn’t even begin to guess how many ‘fakes’ were hidden among them.
I no longer knew where truth ended and began, or whom I could trust.
Was our entire struggle nothing but a play staged on their chessboard from the very start?
How amusing it must have been.
The sight of me desperately climbing the Tower, coughing up blood.
How ridiculous it must have seemed.
My utter desperation as I traversed the world with all my might, drawing magic circles and transmuting the Sage’s Stone.
They probably wagered among themselves whether I could truly obliterate Earth or not, raising their cups in jest.
The more I thought about it, the more my blood boiled in reverse.
Humiliation and rage intertwined, wrapping around my entire being.
But.
‘I have returned.’
I regressed.
Against the current of time, I slipped into your inner sanctum while you were careless and unprepared.
Armed with the qualifications of a ‘Deity’ like you, and more—the qualifications of a predator who devours you.
So then.
‘Now it is my turn.’
That amusement you savored—I will transform it into a bloodstained hell.
I will drag you down from those lofty thrones and cast you into the deepest abyss.
“…Master?”
Seria called to me cautiously.
There was concern in her eyes.
I had suddenly clutched my chest and stood there in a daze.
“Are you certain you’re well? Your complexion seems—”
“I’m fine.”
I waved my hand dismissively.
“In fact, I feel better than ever.”
I observed Seria.
Her transformed appearance.
The Bow Ghost of frozen ice.
Her silver hair shimmered with an ethereal radiance.
“Acclimate yourself to the Bow Ghost’s power.”
I spoke.
“That strength is yours now. But you haven’t fully integrated it yet. You must make it truly your own before the war begins.”
“I shall remember your words.”
Seria bowed her head.
A blue luminescence flickered across her eyes.
An emotion transcending mere trust—reverence itself.
Once she had harbored suspicion, but now she followed me with unwavering devotion.
I had saved her tribe, waged war against Cryos himself, bestowed Nectar upon them, and granted her a Hidden Class besides.
‘Reassuring.’
A force upon which I could rely completely.
Seria had always been formidable.
Far more troublesome than Cryos.
A monster transcending divinity itself, despite lacking divine essence.
Now she wielded the soul and class of the Bow Ghost—one that could evade the gaze of the Deities and strike down any existence in this world with absolute certainty.
To claim I wasn’t anticipating her ascension would be a lie.
‘Two souls remain.’
I continued deliberating.
Garcia’s Sword Saint, and Grand Sage Plutonium.
I needed to proceed with caution.
The Secret Auction likely wasn’t a perpetually open marketplace.
Fortune had simply aligned the timing; I couldn’t predict when the next opportunity would arise.
In other words, these souls were irreplaceable resources.
‘I cannot squander them recklessly.’
The war with Cryos.
If I considered only that, converting them into immediate combat strength would be prudent.
There was also the option of selecting capable Frost Tribe Elves and granting them these powers.
I turned my gaze toward the training elves.
Every one of them burned with lethal intensity in their eyes.
And yet.
‘It’s insufficient.’
I shook my head.
The vessel is too small.
Seria is a special case.
She possessed transcendent mortal-tier talent from the beginning and had awakened as my apostle.
But the rest of the elves are ordinary.
They lack the capacity to contain a legendary-grade soul.
Besides, the soul shows no reaction to them anyway.
‘Should I put it on hold?’
The Sword Saint was one thing, but I wanted to find some use for Plunum regardless.
That was when it happened.
Uuuuuung!
The blue rune in my left hand rippled once more.
It was Plunum’s soul.
He was reacting violently.
As if yearning for something.
The direction pointed toward my waist.
No—my inventory.
‘What is it?’
I opened my inventory.
The object that Plunum’s soul was drawn to.
I pulled it out.
“…Ah.”
A sigh escaped me.
A shabby wooden staff.
A divine artifact stripped of its radiance, withered and dull.
The divine relic Heimdall had gifted me—the Staff of the Tempest That Tears Apart and Slays.
The husk I’d left behind after draining every ounce of divinity and power from it.
‘Does he want to dwell within this?’
It made sense.
Though its essence had been hollowed out, the material itself was extraordinary.
Crafted from the sacred wood of Asgard, it had cradled divine power through countless ages.
Far more resilient than human flesh, and a far more magically attuned vessel.
There could be no more perfect dwelling for the Grand Sage’s soul.
I chuckled softly.
This worked out better than expected.
I’d been troubled over what to do with this empty divine artifact.
Discarding it felt wrong given Heimdall’s involvement, yet keeping it was merely a burden—a useless thing.
But if I were to breathe the Grand Sage’s soul into it?
I stood the staff upright on the ground.
I wrapped the Glass Chamber with my left hand.
Blue rune characters coiled across my palm.
Soul Bestowal.
Whoooosh!
A mass of white soul was liberated, dancing freely.
And without hesitation, it was drawn into the staff.
Shhhhhhh!
A harsh wind roared through the air.
Life began to flow back into the lifeless wooden rod.
The parched surface gleamed with luster, and the withered, twisted grain writhed like golden veins.
The very realm of recreation.
Where the Deity’s power had been stripped away, the Grand Sage’s vast knowledge and soul now filled the void.
Crack!
The staff levitated into the air.
Its form transformed.
The crude wooden staff metamorphosed into a smooth, pristine white staff.
At the head of the staff, where a blue gem had once been embedded, a sphere of white soul now coalesced.
Like a living eye.
It gazed upon me.
Ding!
[Soul Bestowal has succeeded.]
[A Divine Artifact welcomes its new master.]
[An Ego Weapon bearing ‘Ego’ is born.]
Just as with Abriel, the Archangel and Holy Sword.
Another new Ego Weapon had been born in this moment.
I stared intently at the newly completed staff.
Ding!
Information regarding the staff appeared.
Detailed descriptions of options and stats and more.
At the same time.
‘…This is insane.’
I couldn’t help but marvel.
It had become far superior to the Divine Artifact Heimdall had given me, the ‘Staff of the Tempest That Tears Apart and Slays.’

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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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