The Mage Who Devours Disasters - Chapter 39

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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 39.
[Name: Grand Sage’s Staff Carved from Divine Wood]
[Grade: Divine Artifact]
[Durability: Infinite (Indestructible)]
[Equip Condition: Rag (Kim Jung-seok)]
[Basic Effect (1): Mana + 300]
[Basic Effect (2): Intelligence + 300]
[Special Effect (1): All divine authority effects increase by 20%.]
[Special Effect (2): All proficiency effects increase by 200%.]
[Description: A staff carved from the divine wood of Asgard. It was once used as a vessel to contain divinity, but the soul of Grand Sage Plutonium embedded within it caused a transformation. It possesses consciousness and responds to the user’s will.]
Originally, this staff was merely a ‘vessel.’
When it was Heimdall’s divine artifact.
It held a mighty tempest within, to be unleashed whenever its master desired.
Certainly it was formidable in its own right, but fundamentally it was nothing more than a storage and amplification device.
But now, everything had changed.
‘It’s been completely transformed.’
With Grand Sage Plutonium’s soul dwelling within it, the very nature of the staff had been reconstructed.
It granted me a staggering 300 points each to mana and intelligence.
These were not numbers typical equipment could provide.
And that was merely the beginning.
This was ‘exclusive equipment’ meant for me alone.
No one else could equip it.
But what truly captured my attention were the special effects listed below.
‘Divine authority effects increased by 20%.’
This wasn’t referring to magic—it meant ‘divine authority’ itself.
Even Primordial Flame, a source-grade authority, would become 20% stronger.
A insane option that pushed my already overwhelming firepower beyond its limits.
And then.
‘Proficiency increased by 200%.’
My jaw dropped.
Tripled.
What took others ten years to master, I could accomplish in three.
I possessed the hidden trait ‘The Transcendent.’
My proficiency acquisition was already increased by 100%.
If I added the staff’s effects on top of that?
‘It would be at light speed.’
My growth rate was absurd.
My proficiency in magic, martial arts, and divine authority would skyrocket beyond reason.
‘The name Divine Artifact is truly fitting.’
It was the booster that would transform me into a perfect monster.
As time passes, the gap will only widen beyond measure.
A boundless potential for growth so vast it shames comparison to the past—incomparable to what came before.
It lacks any intrinsic divine authority, but what does that matter?
This staff elevates all my power, my very existence itself—it is my greatest partner.
I caressed the staff.
Smooth to the touch.
Warm with gentle heat.
Hummmmm.
The staff vibrated faintly.
It did not speak to me as Abriel does.
Unlike the sacred blade with its distinct consciousness and boisterous nature.
It simply resonated with a profound hum.
Yet I could sense it.
‘It understands me.’
My will.
The flow of my mana.
Even my emotions.
Through the pulse transmitted by my hand alone, it grasped what I desired and what I intended to do.
Like a seasoned butler who had synchronized his breathing with me for ages.
Or like an old friend with whom words were unnecessary.
‘It has no memories, though.’
A bittersweet feeling washed over me.
This soul was recovered from a different world that had been destroyed.
It would have no recollection of those days when we climbed the Tower together and sought to protect Earth.
If even that had been nothing but the Deity’s manipulation, then this was essentially a stranger I was meeting for the first time.
But.
‘It doesn’t matter.’
I smiled.
It is not false.
Not some shell crafted by the Deities, not an avatar of theirs.
What dwells within is genuine.
I believe the essence of the Grand Sage—noble, wise, and one who resisted to the end—remains intact.
That alone was enough.
I lifted the staff to eye level.
The white sphere met my gaze.
“It’s good to see you, Plunum.”
A greeting spoken with sincerity.
Then.
Hummmmmmm!
The staff responded with powerful resonance.
A vibration so intense my palm tingled.
As if trembling with joy at a reunion.
Or perhaps extending a handshake in response to my greeting.
That resonance struck my chest.
I smiled faintly.
* * *
The monitors in the Control Room flickered ceaselessly.
A deluge of data.
Abdulla stared at the screens, rubbing his dry eyes.
Thousands upon thousands of names.
A registry of lesser deities playing god on the small planet called Earth.
-Gangnam, Park Tae-soo – affiliated with the Lower Flame Deity
-New York, James – affiliated with the Lower Disease Deity
-Tokyo, Tanaka….
Exposed.
The identities of their avatars they’d fought so hard to conceal, their operational ranges, even the human relationships they’d forged on Earth.
Every scrap of information had fallen into the Investigation Team’s hands.
“Flawless.”
The Adjutant reported.
“No one has slipped through. Surveillance systems for all lesser deities currently at play have been established.”
Abdulla nodded.
A double net.
In Asgard, an Investigator had been stationed beside each deity’s true form.
On Earth, a watcher had been embedded in the shadow of each avatar.
An airtight encirclement.
No matter who the culprit was or how they approached, they would be caught the moment they made a move.
“Except for one.”
Rag.
The sole exception.
The scales of truth had judged: no avatar existed.
And Heimdall’s formidable protection shielded him.
Untouchable.
Suspicion existed, but evidence did not, and investigating on mere circumstantial grounds carried too great a risk.
“…We’ll wait and see.”
Abdulla ground his teeth.
After all, the rat was already in the trap.
The culprit had to hunt a god.
To hunt, they must move, and moving means exposure.
But.
“It’s quiet.”
The Adjutant spoke with evident confusion.
“Since we began surveillance, there hasn’t been a single incident of harm.”
Silence.
A quiet as profound as the calm before a storm.
The cascade of bad news that had been erupting suddenly ceased.
Had the God Hunter tucked tail and fled?
Or was he mocking our surveillance net, biding his time?
“Do not grow complacent.”
Abdulla tapped the desk.
“The creature is likely a Mad Deity—specifically a Stage 2, a monster capable of rational thought.”
A Stage 2 Mad Deity.
A madman possessed of reason.
He knew how to suppress his instincts.
He could endure hunger for the promise of greater prey.
“The next episode will be the turning point.”
Time continued its march on Earth.
When new calamities emerged and new rewards appeared, he would move again.
That would be our opportunity.
Abdulla was growing anxious.
Pressure from above was intensifying.
—Produce results.
—Prove the Investigation Team’s worth.
The demands of the highest-tier Deities.
Their patience was wearing thin.
If I failed to capture the culprit, my head would roll.
“I will catch him. Without fail.”
Abdulla’s eyes blazed with fierce determination.
His obsession burned so intensely it seemed to pierce through the monitors themselves.
* * *
Time passed.
The atmosphere within the Tower shifted subtly.
Fear had a short shelf life.
Dread of the God Hunter gradually diluted.
In its place arose the Deities’ chronic affliction—’boredom’—alongside fresh ‘intrigue’.
“A war, you say?”
“Yes. It’s finally erupted.”
The Garden of Gods.
Deities gathered in small clusters, raising their cups in raucous celebration.
The topic was singular.
The ruler of the Northern Lands, Cryos the Frost Deity.
And Rag, the prodigy of the 7th Floor.
A declaration of war between two deities.
“It’s madness. A clash between a deity who’s reached the Mid-50th Floor and a 7th Floor deity?”
“It’s like throwing an egg at a stone.”
Most were cynical about it.
The gap was simply too vast.
Cryos was a stagnant relic of thousands of years.
Military strength, resource reserves, divine depth.
There was no comparison in any regard.
Yet counterarguments were equally compelling.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Is Rag ordinary?”
“Right. Ever since he was a Seed, it’s been one breakthrough after another.”
“Rumor has it Heimdall threw his full support behind him?”
“Just looking at how he jumped to S-rank in a single layer proves it’s more than mere gossip.”
A variable.
Rag himself was an enormous variable.
Growth that defied all convention.
Nectar from an unknown source in staggering quantities.
Of course, everyone had Heimdall in mind.
That he must have supplied vast amounts of Nectar.
“A war between Rag, favored by Heimdall, and Cryos, the apostle deity of Skadi.”
“This should be entertaining.”
“It’s been a while since we’ve had something worth watching.”
The deities’ eyes gleamed with interest.
They placed their wagers.
Nine out of ten bet on Cryos’s overwhelming victory.
One out of ten bet on Rag’s upset.
It was hardly worthy of being called a wager.
Even that one-tenth consisted merely of gamblers hoping for a miracle or a tiny handful of fanatics who blindly trusted Heimdall’s judgment.
Most deities were pragmatic.
“There’s no way this becomes a real contest.”
“No matter how much Nectar Heimdall pours into him, the absolute gap of ‘time’ cannot be bridged.”
Moreover, Cryos had a reputation as one of the most ruthless among the Lower Deities.
He never fought battles he couldn’t win, and once he sank his teeth into prey, he chewed it down to the bone—a vicious creature through and through.
Thus, the deities’ true interest lay not in victory or defeat itself.
Their gaze was fixed on something far higher.
‘Heimdall and Skadi.’
The patriarch of the Natural Faction and the Queen of Winter.
This war was nothing less than a proxy battle between two supreme deities.
“If Cryos wins, Heimdall’s expression will be worth seeing.”
“I’d love to see that arrogant pride of his shattered.”
The Deities secretly hoped for Heimdall’s defeat.
He was far too powerful, far too conceited.
What expression would he wear upon witnessing Rag’s corpse trampled to ruin?
That would be the finest entertainment this tedious Tower existence had to offer.
More than anything else.
The psychological warfare between Skadi and Heimdall was already an open secret.
Heimdall held the higher floor, but Skadi was no pushover either.
A rival who could threaten his position at any moment.
If Cryos, her apostle, were to defeat Rag, Heimdall’s apostle?
That would carry the symbolic weight of Skadi seizing Heimdall by the throat.
“The Nectar tastes particularly fine today.”
“It begins.”
The spectator stands were packed to capacity.
The Deities’ gazes converged upon the battlefield of the 7th Floor.
* * *
The Northern Lands.
The Eternal Snowfield, forever untouched by thaw.
Dawn was breaking over that desolate expanse.
Yet even the sun’s rays could not melt the bitter cold that gripped this place.
The Ice Castle rose majestically skyward.
Upon its summit stood Cryos, the Frost Deity.
“…The time has come.”
He spoke at last.
His breath scattered white into the frigid air.
Thirty days.
A tedious and humiliating eternity.
That wretch who dared invade my territory, slaughter my subordinates, and plunder my treasures.
The long years of restraint in keeping him alive had finally ended.
“The promised time has passed.”
Cryos’s eyes blazed with intensity.
He gazed downward.
An endless white plain stretched before him.
Its surface was blanketed entirely by a dark mass of military forces.
‘Frost Giants.’
Thousands of monstrous beings, each the size of a house, wielding clubs of solid ice.
‘Frozen Knight Order.’
Tens of thousands of elite soldiers clad entirely in armor of magical ice.
And overhead, a contingent of ‘Wyverns’ that blotted out the sky itself.
His entire fortune accumulated over millennia—the core strength that transformed the 50th Floor into an impregnable fortress.
“Excessive.”
Cryos chuckled softly.
It was overkill to crush a mere rat from the 7th Floor.
But he was a deity who knew nothing of mercy.
“Crush them.”
A lesson.
They needed to learn in their bones what happened when they dared to climb.
Besides, the most important thing was.
‘Lady Skadi is watching.’
His sovereign.
The Winter Queen observed this war unfold.
The victory he offered her had to be flawless.
An overwhelming triumph without a single blemish.
Only by severing Rag’s head and laying it at her feet could he restore his lost honor.
“Sound the horn!”
Buuuuuuuu―!
The colossal horn’s blast tore through the Northern Territory’s sky.
The tremor began.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The footsteps of tens of thousands thundered like an earthquake.
The ice wall opened.
A dimensional gate unfurled.
Coordinates: 7th Floor.
Rag’s Golden City.
“Advance!”

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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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