The Mage Who Devours Disasters - Chapter 45

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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 45.
Yet something was peculiar.
Why hadn’t the Four Knights of Death reverted to Nectar?
Everything that composed the Layer had been dismantled.
All the facilities Cryos had established, along with the magical beasts purchased with Crystals, had been converted into Nectar.
Only these four knights maintained their forms intact.
There was only one reason.
‘Named Monsters.’
They weren’t mass-produced goods stamped from Crystals.
Beings brought directly from the lands of Asgard beyond the Tower of Gods, or from other dimensions, and raised here.
Or perhaps monsters too dangerous to leave outside, forcibly brought into the Tower.
Just as Seria had been brought from the past.
Come to think of it, the Four Knights of Death ranked above Seria.
They were Cryos’s direct guard, a tier higher than Seria, who had been a middle manager.
It was the same when I climbed the Tower with the Fellowship in the past.
Seria, who wielded concealment, was the most troublesome and annoying.
But the Four Knights of Death were the most powerful and destructive.
Wasn’t it the same in this current war?
The key to victory had been luring these four knights toward Seria and separating them from the main force.
But I didn’t know the true origin of these beings.
They differed fundamentally from ordinary Death Knights or undead.
I moved forward slowly.
Step by step.
Approaching the four black knights kneeling before me.
“Master! It’s dangerous!”
Seria cried out urgently, trying to stop me.
Undead without a master could rampage at any moment.
But I raised my hand to restrain her.
“It’s fine.”
I drew near.
I stood face to face with the Four Knights of Death.
Beyond their black helms, blue eyes flickered with ethereal light.
There was no killing intent.
Who were they, truly?
That was when it happened.
A deep resonance thrummed through the air.
My left hand responded.
The blue rune characters that had glowed when I reaped souls at the Secret Auction House pulsed with a gentle radiance.
The Hand of Dominion, which governed ‘Soul Bestowal.’
Through that hand, the voice of souls began to reach me.
Weighty thoughts flowed directly into my mind.
Rage. Indomitable will.
And a desolate sorrow that had endured through eons.
I read their origins.
I parted my lips.
And I called their true names.
“Turan. Kalak. Barkan. Urk.”
A tremor ran through them.
Four knights shuddered in unison.
Their bowed heads snapped upward.
Blue eyes within their helms blazed with violent intensity.
Their true names—forgotten for millennia—had been spoken.
I gazed down upon them and spoke.
“Guardians of winter.”
They were ancient beings.
From the Last Season, that era of bitter cold.
The Barbarian Four Brothers who had defied the Deities’ tyranny.
Cryos had coveted their unbreakable spirits.
But he could never break them.
So he slew their bodies by force and froze their souls, binding them as undead servants.
Erasing their memories, reducing them to machines that knew only slaughter.
Yet the blue rune upon my left hand was thawing their frozen recollections.
“Your chains are severed.”
I extended my left hand.
Blue light enveloped their dark armor with warmth.
“Will you follow me?”
I did not compel them.
I did not seek to rule as a Deity.
I merely answered the resonance of their souls and offered my hand.
Silence descended.
Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
And then.
A metallic whisper. A sharp ring.
Four knights released their weapons to the ground simultaneously.
They prostrated themselves at my feet.
Ancient Warriors who had despised the Deities.
In this moment, they entrusted their souls to the mage who had slain a god.
A chime resonated.
[Ancient souls answer your call.]
[The Four Knights of Death become your retinue.]
Perfect.
I was wearing a satisfied smile when it happened.
A deep, resonant rumble tore through the air.
The sky split open.
Above my territory, now expanded to Floor 55.
A massive storm cloud began to spiral into existence there.
A piercing, shrieking wind.
A violent tempest that rent the very fabric of space.
The Elves gasped and held their breath at that overwhelming divine presence.
Even the Four Knights of Death instinctively tensed, gripping their weapons tighter against the ground.
But I let out a soft laugh.
Because I knew who it was.
The master of that arrogant, colossal wind.
The storm cloud split apart on both sides.
A man descended slowly through the gap.
The God of Tempests.
The Sovereign of All Things.
Heimdall.
He stood before me with a hearty laugh.
A sharp tap.
Heimdall’s massive hand clapped against my shoulder.
“Krahaha! Magnificent, Rag!”
The wind surged and the clouds danced.
“I never doubted your victory for a moment.”
He meant it sincerely.
He looked genuinely delighted.
“The expressions on the others’ faces were absolutely priceless. Especially that twisted look on Skadi’s face!”
A laugh like a decade-old weight finally lifting.
The exhilaration of breaking the pride of deities who had been so certain of victory washed over me completely.
Heimdall’s laughter subsided as he looked directly at me.
“As promised.”
Then he declared it.
“From this day forth, I appoint you as my sole ‘Apostle Deity.'”
An unprecedented honor.
He did not ask.
How I had won.
How I had expanded my territory and slain Cryos in such a short span of time.
There were more than a few suspicious details.
But he chose to overlook them.
The process was irrelevant.
Only the result mattered.
I had displayed my overwhelming prowess, and they had acknowledged it completely.
Their temperament was audaciously straightforward.
Heimdall’s gaze shifted to the side.
The Frost Tribe Elves prostrated before him.
And Seria, standing near the Divine Throne.
Feeling the sacred chill radiating from her body, he raised his eyebrows.
“Ho. You’ve bestowed a divine artifact upon them?”
I nodded.
Heimdall scanned them with evident interest.
“So these are your limbs and extensions, Rag.”
He stroked his chin.
“Good. I shall commit your faces to memory.”
At those words, Seria and the Elder, along with the other Elves, started in surprise.
Recognition from a supreme-tier Deity.
They hastily pressed their foreheads to the ground.
“It is an honor, a supreme honor, O Great Ruler of All Things!”
Their voices trembled with awe.
Heimdall clicked his tongue in disapproval.
“Raise your heads.”
An authoritative command.
“The only one before whom you should bow is Rag. Remember that well.”
His tone carried a note of rebuke.
Yet a faint smile played at the corners of his mouth.
He seemed genuinely pleased by the loyalty of my followers.
And then.
Heimdall’s gaze finally settled upon one place.
The four black knights kneeling behind me.
The Four Knights of Death.
“…Oh my.”
Heimdall paused.
A glimmer of surprise crossed his eyes.
“You’ve even tamed these creatures?”
His astonishment was unmistakable.
I asked him.
“Do you know of them?”
Heimdall nodded.
“Indeed I do.”
He gazed upon the black knights and let out a low whistle.
“They originally belonged to Skadi. It appears she entrusted them to that fool Cryos as her trump card.”
Skadi’s possession.
The Ancient Warriors that the Winter Queen herself had once commanded.
“How fortuitous.”
Heimdall reached into the void.
Space twisted, and something erupted forth.
Whoooosh!
A blue flame so brilliant it burned the eyes.
It was an object that radiated a paradoxical aura—cold yet scorching, contradictory in nature.
“This is the ‘Flame of Winter.'”
Heimdall thrust it before my eyes.
“This is precisely what those four Barbarian brothers guarded.”
The absolute artifact protected by the Four Knights of Death.
A divine relic as precious as Skadi’s own heart.
“I obtained it by winning a wager against Skadi.”
Heimdall chuckled softly and held it out to me.
“Strictly speaking, this too is your spoils of war, Rag.”
“…You’re giving this to me?”
“Of course.”
He gripped my shoulder once more with crushing force.
“Take it. Enjoy it. It is the victor’s right.”
Reward and punishment—both are absolute with him.
That was the kind of deity Heimdall was.
Yet this could not have been given freely.
He had mentioned a wager.
A gamble where both he and Skadi had staked their very lives.
He won, so he claimed the prize.
But what if I had lost?
Heimdall too would have surrendered something of equal value.
He would have yielded his own weakness—his heart itself.
He had wagered his neck, trusting in me.
That weight is far from light.
I shook my head.
“Please, take it back.”
I refused with utmost courtesy.
“This is not my share. I merely fought my own battle.”
But Heimdall laughed softly.
He did not withdraw the blue flame.
Instead, he pushed it directly into my chest.
“Take it.”
It was a command.
“This is my first gift to you, my Apostle Deity.”
Apostle Deity.
The weight of those words pressed down upon the very atmosphere of Floor 55.
Heimdall continued.
“To become an Apostle Deity means you become my very face in this world.”
His gaze turned toward the Ancient Warriors prostrate behind me.
The Four Knights of Death.
No—the Barbarian Four Brothers.
“Should you fully tame those barbarians and master this divine artifact as well.”
Heimdall’s lips twisted upward in a cruel smile.
“Even that bitch Skadi would not dare act recklessly.”
It was a political maneuver.
Those who had been Skadi’s greatest assets would become my subordinates.
Skadi’s divine artifact would be absorbed into my being.
It would be a humiliation equivalent to striking the Winter Queen across the face.
“What of it?”
Heimdall shrugged lightly.
“At that moment, a full-scale war between us would commence.”
I felt no fear.
Rather, my blood burned with anticipation—the gleaming eyes of a predator that savored the thrill of conflict.
Heimdall fixed his gaze directly upon me once more.
“Let me explain what it means to become an Apostle Deity.”
The wind ceased.
Only Heimdall’s voice commanded the space.
“Your glory is my glory.”
An absolute connection.
“And my glory shall become your glory.”
A transcendent status that no lesser deity could ever aspire to share.
“You shall be granted dominion over one of my absolute powers.”
But there was a condition.
“Only insofar as your vessel permits it.”
Understanding crystallized within me.
Cryos.
The ‘Invincibility’ he possessed when transforming into his third phase.
That was the absolute power Skadi had bestowed upon her Apostle Deity.
It was far beyond anything a lesser deity could ever wield.
“Furthermore.”
Heimdall spread both his arms wide.
“You shall come to possess dominion over all that I myself command.”
His voice carried an absolute certainty.
“Both beyond this Tower of Gods and within its depths.”
It was an extraordinary proposition.
No—the word “proposition” hardly captured its magnitude.
This was salvation itself.
The supreme deity of Asgard.
The ruler of all existence.
I would share in all his infrastructure, authority, and power.
The moment I became his Apostle Deity, someone like Investigation Team Commander Abdulla would not dare to even glance in my direction.
They would not dare breathe a whisper of suspicion about being a God Hunter.
A perfect shield.
The most reliable backing.
Heimdall extended his hand toward me.
“So I ask you.”
His gaze pierced through me.
“Will you become my Apostle Deity?”
Silence fell.
Seria, the Elves, the Ancient Warriors—all held their breath.
Every eye was fixed upon my lips alone.
It was an offer I should naturally accept.
A perfect transaction with not a single reason to refuse.
I deliberated for a long time.
In that prolonged silence, I slowly lifted my gaze.
I met Heimdall’s eyes without flinching.
And I parted my lips to answer.
“No.”

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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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