The Mage Who Devours Disasters - Chapter 44

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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 44.
It was over.
The howling blizzard had ceased.
Seria drew ragged breaths, her chest heaving.
Her entire body was drenched in blood.
Frozen wounds tore open anew, and her muscles screamed in agony.
This was the price of standing alone against the Four Knights of Death.
She looked as though she might collapse at any moment.
Yet she remained standing firm on both legs.
She had survived.
She had executed her lord’s command flawlessly.
“Waaaaaaaah!”
A triumphant roar shattered the silence.
It was the cry of the surviving Frost Tribe Elves.
Some collapsed to the ground, weeping openly; others embraced one another.
They had won.
It was their victory.
The cruel Deity who had oppressed them and sought to use them as kindling.
They had destroyed the master of frost with their own hands.
Soon, the eyes of the cheering elves converged upon a single point.
The melting remnants of ice.
Standing resolute at the center—the Man in Black Armor.
Rag.
Seria’s gaze fixed upon him as well.
Her blue eyes trembled faintly.
‘I never truly believed we could win….’
She had not dared to imagine it.
A victory so decisive and absolute as this.
Until the war began, Seria had secretly steeled herself for defeat.
Cryos was terror incarnate to the Frost Tribe.
She had deemed the probability of loss far greater.
But what was the outcome?
They had won.
Not by the narrowest of margins.
Completely. Overwhelmingly.
Under Rag’s command, Cryos’s tens of thousands of soldiers melted like scarecrows.
Meticulous traps, unstinting support from Nectar, and perfect timing to sever the enemy’s lifeline.
Every calculation had emerged from Rag’s mind.
She sank down.
Seria knelt to the ground.
I lowered the bow to the ground and clasped my hands against my chest.
At that moment, every Frost Tribe Elf who had been cheering prostrated themselves toward Rag.
Reverence. Ecstasy.
No, such shallow words could not fully capture the emotions surging through them now.
Something burned fiercely in Seria’s chest.
Her loyalty had shattered its threshold.
It transcended the simple bonds of master and servant.
It was absolute faith, veneration itself.
Rag was no longer merely a benefactor or liege to her—he had become something far greater.
“My deity…”
A reverent prayer spilled from Seria’s lips.
She, and the Frost Tribe with her, had become Rag’s devoted believers.
* * *
At the center of it all.
I extended my right hand.
Toward the place where Cryos’s body had crumbled to dust.
I opened the golden rune toward the fragments of divinity that remained there.
Uuuuung!
Consumption.
The master of that immense cold was drawn into my palm.
Ding!
[Calamity, you have devoured the Frost Deity Cryos.]
[Absorbing divine essence.]
[You have acquired the Authority: Extreme Frost.]
[Achievements for annihilating tens of thousands are being settled.]
[Your level has increased!]
My lips curved upward of their own accord.
It was the natural outcome.
I had poured everything into this single victory.
Invested vast quantities of Nectar, laid traps with meticulous precision.
Struck at his weaknesses and controlled every variable.
Every calculation had aligned perfectly.
On a mage’s battlefield, a mage’s victory is inevitable.
I turned my head slowly.
The Frost Tribe Elves lay prostrate across the battlefield.
They knelt before me, hands clasped together in prayer.
Their eyes were blind with fervor.
Veneration that transcended mere loyalty.
It was then.
Ding!
A new form of message materialized before my eyes.
Not golden light, not crimson—a sacred white notification.
[You have obtained the genuine faith of the Frost Tribe Elves.]
[The collective wishes of your followers elevate your divine essence.]
[Preparations to establish the Divine Throne are complete.]
The Divine Throne.
The seat of divinity.
I grasped the meaning of those words instinctively.
This transcended mere ownership of territory or floors.
It was the throne upon which a true deity would reign.
Further explanation followed.
[If you offer ‘Authority’ to the Divine Throne, a ‘Divine Artifact’ will be completed through it as a conduit.]
[The completed Divine Artifact grants powerful effects to the race bound to the Divine Throne.]
A race.
Those who now revere me absolutely.
The Frost Tribe Elves, surely.
I surveyed my inventory and the authorities dwelling within me.
Primordial Flame. Annihilating Gale. Calamity descending from all directions.
And the freshly acquired authority.
‘Extreme Frost.’
There was no reason to hesitate.
Could any combination be more perfect than bestowing the authority of frost upon the Frost Tribe?
Cryos had oppressed them with this power.
I would bless them with it.
‘I offer it.’
Without hesitation, I drew forth the authority of frost.
A dense mass of cold emanated from my fingertips.
It was drawn into the illusory throne suspended in empty space—the Divine Throne.
Whoooosh!
The Divine Throne consumed the authority.
A blinding azure light engulfed the entire Golden City.
Frigid air burst forth, yet it brought no chill.
Ding!
[The Divine Throne refines the authority of frost.]
[A new Divine Artifact has been born.]
[Name: Eternal Frost.]
[A masterpiece!]
[The synergy with the Frost Tribe Elves is spectacular!]
[Blessings descend.]
As the light scattered, an enormous ice crystal embedded itself into the backrest of the Divine Throne.
Eternal Frost.
The wave it emitted enveloped the bodies of the prostrate elves.
[All ability stats of the Frost Tribe Elves are enhanced by 30%.]
[The racial potential rises significantly.]
[The Frost Tribe’s rank is promoted from B-rank to A-rank!]
“Ah…!”
“My body, it feels so light….”
The elves gasped in wonder.
Their wounds vanished like melting snow.
Their skin regained its luster, and they trembled as vast mana surged within their bodies.
The entire race had evolved.
But the rewards did not end there.
[The owner of the divine artifact may exercise the designation authority.]
[A single designated Frost Tribe Elf shall gain the ability to directly wield the ‘Frost Authority’ dwelling within the divine artifact.]
[As the Frost Deity, you acquire divine status equivalent to a demigod.]
A proxy of divine authority.
One who borrows the power of a god.
It meant promotion to an apostle and a demigod.
I looked ahead.
The woman kneeling at the very front.
My sharpshooter who endured to the end, bloodied while facing the Four Knights of Death.
To whom else would I grant this power?
I extended my hand.
“Seria.”
“…Yes, Master.”
“Raise your head.”
Seria slowly lifted her head.
Deep loyalty still gleamed in her blue eyes.
“Ascend the Divine Throne, Seria.”
“…Yes?”
Ding!
[Seria of the Frost Tribe is designated as the proxy of divine authority.]
[The ‘Frost Authority’ is bestowed upon Seria.]
Whoooosh!
A thick beam of light erupted from the Eternal Frost embedded in the Divine Throne.
The light pierced directly through Seria’s chest.
“Ahhh…!”
Seria’s body lifted into the air.
Her silver hair scattered like a blizzard.
Her very presence transformed.
I cast off the shell of mortality.
Divinity.
Though not a complete deity, I had been reborn as a transcendent being wielding the power of the divine.
“S-Seria has…!”
“She’s obtained divinity!”
The Elder watching wept aloud.
He prostrated himself on the ground, his body wracked with sobs.
The other elves were no different.
They embraced one another through streams of tears.
The Frost Tribe’s ancient yearning.
They had desired a true deity to protect them.
Even as they were deceived by Cryos and offered as sacrifices, they had prayed that one day Seria would become divine and save them.
That desperate hope had finally been realized.
Thick tears rolled down Seria’s cheeks.
Tears of warmth that would not freeze—tears of overwhelming emotion.
She prostrated herself before me once more.
Her forehead pressed to the earth, she cried out with a trembling voice.
“Until my last breath… nay, until the day my very soul crumbles to dust.”
Seria swore through her tears.
“I shall serve only the great Rag!”
“We shall serve Rag!”
The elves’ oath struck my ears.
Ding!
A cheerful notification chime.
A golden system window materialized in the air.
[Settling the legacy of the defeated ‘Cryos’.]
[Cryos’s Territory and all affiliated facilities are being dismantled.]
[All resources and magical beasts in possession are being converted to ‘Nectar’.]
[War victory rewards are being distributed.]
[Title ‘Unprecedented Rise’ obtained]
[Title ‘Super Rookie’ obtained]
The victor claims everything from the vanquished.
The wars of the Deities were no exception.
The numbers climbed madly.
The result was truly intoxicating.
[Total: 5,880,000 Nectar distributed.]
5.88 million.
I ran my hand across my jaw.
A considerable sum.
A single ‘Fragment of the Broken Golden Ratio’ I possessed would exchange for 1 million Nectar.
It amounted to roughly six fragments’ worth.
The Nectar I’d spent raising Floor 7 to S-grade while preparing for war.
And the costs poured into excavating various traps.
Tapping the calculator, it seemed I’d at least broken even.
But the accounting didn’t end there.
Higher floors came with better treatment, as was always the way.
[Basic maintenance costs for Floor 55 promotion have been updated.]
[30,000 Nectar will be paid every 30 days.]
[S-grade floor effects are applied.]
[Base payment amount is amplified by 500% multiplicative calculation.]
[Final payment amount: 27,000 Nectar every 30 days.]
Twenty-seven thousand Nectar per month.
Unearned income flowing in with every breath I took.
A colossal pension that lesser Deities could never even dream of.
Since it came freely, there was nothing wrong with having more.
Uuuuuuung!
The surrounding landscape transformed.
The ground trembled as my territory began expanding.
A scale incomparable to my time on Floor 7.
It seemed to have grown at least twice as large as before.
The horizon receded into the distance.
Ample land emerged to expand the Golden City even further.
A perfect victory.
And perfect rewards.
I nodded in satisfaction.
But.
Even this was not the end.
The true prize spoils remained separate.
My gaze turned toward one corner of the battlefield.
Where the blizzard had ceased.
Four black forms knelt, bereft of their master.
Skeletal steeds and black armor.
Immortal monsters born from the abyssal cold.
‘The Four Knights of Death…!’
Cryos’s most formidable personal guard, the pride of his forces.
They had not dissolved—they remained intact as spoils of war.

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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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