The Mage Who Devours Disasters - Chapter 43

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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 43.
I am a mage.
One who pursues truth.
One who establishes formulas and manifests miracles.
But my ultimate purpose was singular.
‘Kill the Deity.’
If only I could extinguish that arrogant immortal who treated us as playthings and brought the world to ruin.
I would gladly surrender my entire soul to a demon.
I cared not if I fell into hellfire and suffered eternally.
I delved into every scrap of knowledge.
I researched obsessively, again and again.
I dissected and reassembled countless branches of magic.
And thus, at last, I completed the ultimate formula.
‘The Divine Retribution Magic Circle.’
A forbidden spell crafted solely to slay a Deity.
Once Cryos completes his third phase transformation, matters become complicated.
Twelve cores.
I must strike and extinguish them simultaneously for him to die.
Not even a 0.1-second margin of error is permitted.
In the past, Humanity’s Last Coalition achieved it.
Hundreds of humanity’s strongest coordinated flawlessly.
It was a harrowing miracle born of blood spilled and flesh surrendered.
But it is beyond my reach now.
Because I stand alone.
Even possessing the Primordial-grade authority, ‘Living Primeval Flame.’
Striking twelve cores moving in frenzied chaos simultaneously is nearly impossible.
I cannot stake everything on such a gamble.
If I fail, I die.
Seria dies, and the Frost Tribe that believed in me and followed is slaughtered.
So I shifted my approach.
What if I prevented his final transformation from completing?
If only I could strip away that absolute ‘invulnerability’ the System granted him?
A state where transformation remains incomplete.
Cryos, trapped within the Ice Cocoon, would be utterly defenseless.
Merely a slab of meat with bound limbs.
Before the core splits into twelve, while it remains consolidated in one place.
This moment is when he is most vulnerable.
A crystalline chime.
I poured the final Nectar onto the ground.
The lines connected.
The incantation was complete.
One minute remained.
It was just before Cryos’s transformation finished.
Uuuuuung!
The golden magic circle began rotating with fierce intensity.
The Seven-Layered Forest and Land that I had carefully cultivated.
Tremendous power flowed through the circle like a cascading waterfall.
There was only one objective.
To forcibly tear apart the absolute protective barrier granted to deities.
Fwooosh!
Light erupting from the magic circle engulfed the Ice Cocoon.
Crack!
The sound of shattering glass echoed.
The transparent, invincible barrier wrapping around the Ice Cocoon shattered into fragments.
The barrier was destroyed.
Invincibility was broken.
I let out a slight laugh.
“…!”
Cryos inside the cocoon was horrified.
His eyes widened as if they would split.
Panicked, he opened his mouth urgently.
“Impossible! How, how can a ‘Godslayer’ become a deity!”
He was confused.
Because a slayer of gods had ascended the Tower of Gods.
I had cast a circle using Nectar, the drink of deities, to slay a god.
By his logic, it was a contradiction he could never comprehend.
“P-please, spare me!”
Finally, Cryos cried out in abject desperation.
The arrogant ruler of frost fell to his knees.
“I concede! I have lost! Take my territory, my followers—everything! Just please, spare my life…!”
It was pathetic.
I did not answer.
He was not worth answering.
Mercy?
I burned that away long ago along with Earth.
I raised my left hand.
‘Living Primordial Flame.’
Transparent heat shimmer bloomed above my palm.
The pure color of annihilation itself.
The Sage’s Staff amplified the flame’s power beyond all limits.
An overwhelming heat that distorted the very space around it.
As expected.
Currently, Cryos possessed only a single core.
He had failed to divide into twelve.
Incomplete.
Then.
“Farewell.”
Whoooooosh!
* * *
The Garden of Gods.
Under normal circumstances, this paradise would be filled with the languid strains of harp music and the delicate fragrance of Nectar.
But today was different.
Silence pressed down upon the Garden.
Though the highest-tier Deities had gathered in one place, none dared speak easily.
Their gazes were all fixed upon empty space.
More precisely, they were staring intently at a blank screen that showed nothing at all.
It was frustrating.
The Deities could not witness the war unfolding on the 7th Floor.
It was due to the Tower’s absolute rules.
Wars occurring between Floors are broadcast live through the System only if both sides consent.
Cryos, as the challenger, naturally desired it to be public.
He surely wished to demonstrate to all of Asgard exactly how he would crush the presumptuous whelp of the 7th Floor.
But Rag, as the defender, refused.
He flatly denied observation.
Thus, the Deities found themselves waiting outside a firmly closed door, anticipating only the outcome.
Yet despite this, no one harbored doubt.
The result was all but predetermined.
Skadi’s apostle deity, the Frost Deity Cryos.
There was no conceivable way he could lose to a mere fledgling who had just ascended to the 7th Floor.
‘The battle is taking longer than I anticipated.’
‘The little rat seems to be putting up quite a struggle.’
‘Yet the outcome remains unchanged.’
The Deities scoffed inwardly.
The defender possessed the advantage of fighting within their own Floor.
But the price of defeat was merciless.
Victory or death.
There was no third option.
And Rag’s fate would surely be the latter.
‘Crush him thoroughly, Cryos.’
Skadi reclined elegantly, her chin resting upon her hand.
Her cold blue eyes were fixed on Heimdall, seated across from her.
Heimdall appeared at ease.
He sipped his Nectar with casual indifference, eyes closed.
As though the outcome of this war held no interest for him whatsoever.
But Skadi scoffed inwardly.
‘Playing it cool, are we.’
Her keen eyes perceived what others missed.
The fingertips gripping his goblet were trembling ever so slightly.
No matter how composed he pretended to be, his inner turmoil was unmistakable.
Skadi commanded Cryos.
To claim absolute victory.
To shred the very soul of that arrogant Rag whom Heimdall protected.
Her child would never disappoint her.
For Skadi’s honor, he would seize victory in its entirety.
Breaking the silence, Skadi spoke.
“How tedious.”
Her voice was glacial.
Every deity gathered in the Garden turned their attention to the two supreme beings.
“Heimdall. Shall we make a wager?”
It was a provocation.
For Skadi, a perfect gambit.
Win or lose, the outcome served her.
If Heimdall accepted the bet, her victory was assured—she need only claim her spoils.
And if he refused?
Word would spread throughout the Tower that the Storm God had lost his nerve.
Heimdall’s eyes opened slowly.
His gaze met Skadi’s directly.
‘Dare you claim spoils against me?’
He had anticipated this to some degree.
She had constructed a game he could not lose, so naturally she would strike with hidden fangs.
To refuse before all these witnesses would be to invite ridicule.
Not that he cared much what these fools thought.
…A twisted smile played at Heimdall’s lips.
“A wager, then.”
He set his goblet down with a sharp clink.
“Very well. I wager that Rag emerges victorious.”
The surrounding deities held their breath.
Heimdall had not backed down.
Instead, he met her head-on.
Skadi’s eyes narrowed to slits.
“What are your terms?”
“The Flame of Winter.”
“…!”
The Garden erupted in turmoil.
The Flame of Winter.
A divine artifact in which Skadi’s authority was condensed—something intrinsically linked to her very heart.
Skadi’s expression turned glacial.
“Can you handle it?”
“If you’re willing to offer it, then yes.”
Skadi laughed coldly.
“Very well. I accept. But if Cryos wins, you must surrender the Tempest of Ruan.”
This time, the deities aligned with Heimdall’s faction recoiled in shock.
The Tempest of Ruan.
The only weakness and divine artifact capable of eroding Heimdall’s very life force.
A mad gamble where both sides wagered their throats.
The moment a mere proxy war transformed into a true conflict between the supreme deities.
Heimdall did not hesitate.
“The wager is accepted, Skadi.”
Skadi smiled, certain of victory.
The insufferably arrogant one had accepted the bet.
It was finished.
All that remained was for the message to arrive—Cryos returning with Rag’s severed head.
With the Tempest of Ruan in hand, I would overturn the entire balance of the Natural Faction.
Once I possessed it, I could conquer Heimdall.
And he would never again hold his head so high.
If shame touched him, he would not show his face in the Garden of Gods for some time.
Then it happened.
In the moment when all held their breath, their eyes fixed upon the void.
A notification chimed throughout the entire Garden.
Ding!
Every deity’s gaze snapped toward it at once.
The result they had been awaiting.
But.
The color of the message was wrong.
Not the brilliant golden radiance of a victory proclamation.
Crimson.
An ominous hue—vivid and blood-red.
[We bring grave tidings.]
Skadi’s smile froze solid.
The thoughts of every deity halted in an instant.
A reversal?
[The Frost Deity ‘Cryos’ has been slain by ‘Rag’.]
[His existence has been completely erased from Asgard.]
“…?”
“…??”
“…W-what is this…??”
Silence.
No one could speak easily.
Everyone doubted their eyes.
Cryos was dead?
Slain, they said?
The message did not end there.
A fact so brutally clear was etched into the void.
[War Victor: Rag]
[The invader has been annihilated by overwhelming force.]
[All spoils of the defeated shall be claimed as trophies.]
Skadi’s lips trembled violently.
“This cannot be…”
Cryos had lost.
She had been certain defeat was impossible.
The one who led tens of thousands of troops had been devoured by a mere fledgling of the 7th Floor.
And with that horrifying word—’slain’.
How was this even possible?
Messages cascaded forth like dominoes toppling.
The Tower’s laws governing the victor were activating.
[The hierarchy trembles greatly.]
[The victor ‘Rag’s’ Floor rank skyrockets explosively.]
[Rag is promoted to Master of Floor 55!]
[The name ‘Rag’ is inscribed in the Hall of Deities.]
Floor 55.
He had leaped across forty-eight steps in a single bound.
He had consumed Cryos’s position entirely, and in the aftermath, surged all the way to Floor 55.
“Khahahaha!”
Heimdall clutched his belly and laughed like a madman.
Rag. He had done it.
He had achieved it before my very eyes!
No, wait.
He had surpassed even my expectations.
Honestly, I had assessed his chances of victory as slim.
“Did you see, Skadi? Was that not Rag’s overwhelming victory! Hahahaha!”
It wasn’t even a narrow victory.
I had crushed Cryos.
He hadn’t even been a match for me.
At last, I had become the true eye of the storm within the Tower of Gods.
I couldn’t stop laughing.
Had I ever felt this exhilarated before?
Skadi’s expression—the one who had wagered on Cryos’s victory—was worth savoring.
The other Deities who had been certain of Cryos’s triumph wore the same look.
This thrill was beyond words.
And so, Heimdall proclaimed it before them all.
“Of course—to lose to someone like Cryos would mean I am unworthy of calling him my ‘Apostle God.'”
I had driven the wedge home.
Rag was Heimdall’s Apostle God!
A unique and absolute bond.
This meant my affection for Rag had surged to new heights.
“Now then.”
The one who had been laughing so hard the Garden itself seemed to shake suddenly rose from his seat and extended his hand toward Skadi.
“Hand it over, Skadi.”
A sharp grin spread across my face.
“The Winter’s Flame.”
“….”
It was time to claim the spoils of victory.

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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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