The Mage Who Devours Disasters - Chapter 48

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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 48.
Which is precisely why I cannot comprehend it.
Had he simply taken the supreme typhoon I myself command, I would have accepted it.
A force of the Natural Faction like my own—I would have rationalized it as merely contained within a vessel.
Or perhaps, as Skadi granted Cryos with ‘Invulnerability’.
Had he seized from me the authority of ‘Evasion’—the power to deflect all attacks—I could have understood.
But why that, of all things?
Why, of all things, did he extract the mass of chaos I had suppressed in my deepest recesses?
As though he had targeted it from the very beginning.
As though that creature’s very soul were intertwined with that chaos itself.
Thud.
Heimdall’s footsteps ceased.
His thoughts crystallized.
Countless fragments flickered through his mind.
The image of him sealing my typhoon with bare hands.
The Selection Orb stained black.
The annihilation of Mad Deity Tulkacha.
And.
That forbidden name he had uttered so casually when we first met.
-Then does the Tower of Gods also possess ‘Irresistible Force’?
Heimdall’s eyes widened dramatically.
His pupils trembled uncontrollably.
“….”
Now I could be certain.
Rag.
That bizarre larval creature.
‘…Irresistible Force.’
He is undoubtedly connected to the Absolute Deity, ‘Irresistible Force’.
Irresistible Force.
The Absolute Deity of this Tower.
A name that inspires dread in all.
Even the Twelve Chief Deities dare not speak that name aloud.
Not all follow blindly.
Yet it is undeniable—all fear that name.
In the distant past.
In primordial times.
It is said that Irresistible Force ascended this Tower alone.
And annihilated every deity that stood in his path.
Thus he reached the apex.
A summit so distant that none could ever touch it.
Yet he does not reveal himself in ordinary times.
Only when a single world faces annihilation.
Does he appear, if only for that fleeting instant.
To witness the destruction of worlds.
To hear the desperate screams of life itself crumbling into despair.
That very act is the amusement of that absolute being.
No Deity has ever directly confronted the Irresistible Force.
For to face it is to invite annihilation, or so it is believed.
The moment your eyes meet, your soul is erased.
Such is the legend—and the truth—that drifts through Asgard.
And therein lies the paradox.
A mere Seed could not possibly know that dreadful name.
Even the highest-ranking Deities do not all know it.
Only a precious few who have survived eons know this forbidden word.
Yet he was different.
From the moment we first met, he spoke of the Irresistible Force with casual indifference.
—So does the Tower of Gods have an ‘Irresistible Force’ too?
That audacious question still echoes clearly in my ears.
And now he has even seized the creeping power of chaos itself.
Through nothing more than the shallow conduit of an Apostle God Contract.
That terrible strength I feared so greatly I sealed it away in the Abyss.
He tore it away as though it had always been his own.
The puzzle pieces align.
It was no coincidence.
Summoning Angargon, the dragon of calamity, in the First Floor trial.
That was not mere luck striking jackpot.
The primordial catastrophe was drawn to his soul and descended of its own accord.
The same applies to the black color of his aptitude disaster.
The Administrator called it nothingness, but that was wrong.
It is the Abyss that devours all things.
A color that touches the very essence of the Irresistible Force itself.
“…Hah.”
Heimdall forced a laugh.
The hand dragging across my face trembled ever so slightly.
If all of this is connected to the Irresistible Force.
If a fragment of that Absolute Deity dwells within his soul.
Rag.
That bizarre creature was born as a Seed for the sole purpose of climbing this Tower.
The objective is singular.
To shake this Tower itself.
To uproot the Tower of Gods from its very foundation—this stagnant, rotting structure that had grown corrupt!
Whether it was the Absolute Deity’s arrangement or merely a twisted mutation, it mattered not.
He was the eye of a typhoon that would bring destruction.
‘Am I afraid?’
No.
Heimdall’s lips twisted upward into a grotesque smile.
Perhaps that end would be my own death.
I might be strangled by the very power I had granted, fading into oblivion.
I could be devoured by the tiger I myself had raised.
But it mattered not.
As long as he became a great typhoon.
As long as he could sweep away all the tedious, monotonous order of Asgard.
That alone held sufficient value.
If that creature could fully master the ‘Creeping Chaos’.
Then I would celebrate with genuine joy.
I would congratulate myself that my judgment had not been mistaken, and gladly clink glasses with him.
Because.
‘I need only become stronger.’
I need only climb higher than that monster.
I need only become an overwhelmingly dominant existence that cannot be consumed.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Heimdall placed his hand upon his chest.
After so long.
For the first time in ages, my heart raced with anticipation.
The pulse of struggle I had forgotten across thousands—no, tens of thousands of years.
Blood that had grown cold began to boil once more.
I had been bored.
Since reaching the apex, everything had become meaningless.
My rivals had grown cautious, and those below could not climb high enough.
Eternal peace was indistinguishable from eternal tedium.
But now I had a purpose.
The most fascinating plaything and monster—one that might even threaten me.
A smile graced my lips.
It was an arrogant, fierce smile befitting a god of storms.
Violent tempests swirled within his eyes.
Heimdall’s frozen time finally began to flow once more.
* * *
Whoooooosh!
At the center of Floor 55.
An enormous Crystal blazed with brilliant light.
Where the light had faded, a distinct mark was etched into the ground.
A swirling typhoon pattern.
It was Heimdall’s mark.
A declaration.
Absolute proof that the master of this Floor bore the protection of Heimdall, the Sovereign of All Things.
It was a sign that I had become his true Apostle God.
Now, no deity in Asgard would dare to covet this Floor 55.
Even Investigation Team Commander Abdulla would have no choice but to flee with his tail between his legs upon seeing this mark.
I lowered my gaze.
A rippling blue flame dancing across my palm.
‘The Flame of Winter.’
Spoils of war that Heimdall had torn from Skadi and hurled to me.
An absolute Divine Object, equivalent to the heart of a supreme-tier Deity.
Even holding it still, I could feel the infinite cold and authority contained within.
But.
‘I cannot use it immediately.’
I clicked my tongue.
Divine Objects are inherently powerful, but to unleash their full strength, conditions must be met.
‘I need a Divine Throne.’
Specifically, a ‘Divine Throne.’
Only by placing this object upon the seat of a god does its effect manifest across the entire Territory, granting power to my subordinates.
The problem is that I have no Divine Throne remaining.
A Divine Throne is not given freely upon ascending a Floor.
I learned this when I saved the Frost Tribe Elves.
To establish a Divine Throne requires ‘faith.’
Blind, genuine faith—a tremendous yearning that has surpassed the critical threshold.
I have already consumed the single Divine Throne created from the faith of the Elves.
There, I offered my ‘Extreme Frost’ authority to create ‘Eternal Frost.’
And I granted that power to Seria and the Elves.
In other words, to activate this Flame of Winter, I need a new Divine Throne.
To create a new Divine Throne?
That means I need another overwhelming faith.
‘Where do I find more believers.’
I stroked my chin and turned my head.
My gaze settled on a place.
There, four black knights still knelt without moving.
The Four Knights of Death.
Or rather, the Ancient Barbarian Four Brothers.
With their shackles released, they waited for me without the slightest movement.
I approached them slowly.
A massive frame.
Emanating a chilling, murderous aura.
With my current strength, they surpassed Seria—the greatest forces on Floor 55.
I gazed down at them and asked.
“Where is your tribe?”
Ancient Warriors.
They too must have had a clan they sought to protect.
Perhaps that was why they resisted Cryos to the bitter end, refusing to submit.
Turan, the eldest brother lying prostrate at the front, lifted his head.
Beyond his helmet, sorrowful blue eyes flickered with emotion.
“…They are in the Winter Fortress.”
His voice was heavy, tinged with the sound of metal.
“In Scadi’s Territory. In the deepest reaches of that frozen prison, our bloodline is enslaved and confined.”
I clicked my tongue inwardly.
‘Scadi.’
The Winter Queen.
The stronghold of a supreme-tier Deity.
A hopeless territory incomparable to someone like Cryos.
Naturally, I could not assault it immediately.
Even with Heimdall’s protection, there were limits.
The Apostle God Contract shield merely prevented others from attacking me—it did not protect me from launching an assault on another’s stronghold.
I was still far too weak to wage open war against Scadi.
The path ahead was long.
I had to consume more Authority and ascend to greater heights.
‘But.’
I regarded the four knights before me.
With my current strength, I could not ask for better.
I had to make them absolutely my own.
I extended the ‘Winter’s Flame’ I held in my hand.
“Take it.”
Turan’s eyes widened.
The other three knights also flinched in surprise, lifting their heads.
“…?”
“This is not mine.”
I spoke calmly.
“I heard it originally belonged to you. So keep it with you.”
Turan’s thick hand trembled slightly.
They understood the immense value this divine artifact possessed.
A crystallization of absolute power that even the Deities could not hide their greed for.
And I had bestowed it without hesitation upon my newly acquired subordinates.
“And.”
I met their gaze directly.
“Wait.”
“….”
“One day, when my power grows strong enough to drag that Winter Queen from her Divine Throne.”
I made a vow.
“On that day, I will save your tribe as well.”
The wind ceased.
The Four Knights of Death held their breath.
An eternity seemed to pass in that moment.
They had lived beneath Cryos, stripped of their very selves, forced into slaughter.
No deity had ever heeded their suffering.
No one had ever promised to save their kin.
The Deities had only ever taken.
Commanded, exploited, trampled.
But this man before them was different.
He had severed their chains.
He had returned the spoils of war to their rightful owners.
And he had dared to declare that he would shatter the territory of a supreme-tier Deity and liberate their people.
What of the Frost Tribe Elves?
By their expressions, this promise was no falsehood.
Shudder, shudder, shudder.
Turan’s massive frame trembled violently.
Kalak, Barkan, and Urk were no different.
These undead beings, possessed of corpses, were swept up in a maelstrom of living emotion.
Scrape.
Turan lowered the greatsword he had been gripping to the ground.
Boom!
Turan drove his head into the earth.
The impact was so violent the very ground trembled.
The other three brothers tore off their helms and struck their foreheads against the ground in unison.
“We swear.”
Turan’s voice cut through the air of Floor 55.
It was not submission born of oppression.
Nor was it obedience born of brainwashing.
“Of our own free will.”
It was the purest oath that souls, having reclaimed their complete freedom, could offer.
“For all eternity, until this soul crumbles to dust, we shall follow only our Lord!”
The oath poured forth by four Ancient Warriors.
It was immediately after that solemn vow resonated to its end.
Ding!
[The Ancient Warriors offer their genuine faith.]
[The oath of free spirits becomes intertwined.]
[Faith has surpassed the critical threshold.]
[Hidden Quest: ‘Divine Throne of the Barbarian’ has begun!]
―A new Divine Throne has been created. However, the Divine Throne is incomplete. Rescue the 100 Barbarians sealed in Asgard. Only then will the Divine Throne become complete.
…Huh?
I was utterly dumbfounded.
I blinked my eyes several times.
Another colossal jade throne was materializing in the empty air.
A second Divine Throne, following the first one created by the yearnings of the Frost Tribe Elves.
‘This can be created like this?’
It was absurd.
Even if it was incomplete.
I had thought that establishing a Divine Throne required the long prayers of countless believers.
But it seemed otherwise.
Numbers and time were irrelevant.
The weight of the soul.
If the depth of that oath was overwhelming, even the faith of merely four could sculpt a seat of divinity.
The hundred-percent genuine faith offered by the Ancient Warriors who had been oppressed for thousands of years.
Such faith was far heavier and more immense than the clumsy prayers of tens of thousands.
I let out a hollow laugh.
And I gazed at the blue flame I held in my hand.
‘Winter’s Flame.’
The divine artifact, which had been wandering without an owner, burned fiercely in my palm as if it had found its rightful place.
I reached out without hesitation.
Toward the newly created second Divine Throne, I thrust Winter’s Flame forward.
Whoooosh!
The Divine Throne consumed the blue flame.
Rumble rumble rumble!
Immediately, a tremendous vibration spread across the entirety of Floor 55.
[The divine artifact ‘Winter’s Flame’ has been installed in the Divine Throne.]
[The divine artifact’s effects manifest across the entire territory.]
[The Ancient Warriors, the ‘Barbarian Four Brothers,’ are revived!]
Rumble rumble rumble!
Black miasma washed away from the bodies of Turan and his three brothers.
Life returned to the undead’s pallid skin, and their stilled hearts began to beat once more.
The Ancient Barbarians who had stood against the Last Season were resurrected.

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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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