The Mage Who Devours Disasters - Chapter 66

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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 66.
The Garden of Gods.
Between towering marble columns and suspended garden trees, the delicate fragrance of Nectar drifted through the air.
Yet despite the serene atmosphere, the air itself felt taut with tension.
There was a common thread.
Countless eyes fixed upon me.
Not a single gaze among them was kind.
‘A man who stands apart from the world, then.’
Heimdall was renowned for his solitary nature.
Perhaps that was why.
Not a single deity regarded him with favor.
Only hostility, envy, or the oppressive gaze of one appraising prey.
And yet.
‘…Formidable.’
I clicked my tongue inwardly.
Even at a glance, the divine power they emanated was utterly overwhelming.
The very air rippled with each breath they took, space itself growing heavy.
These must be the rulers of this Tower—the supreme-tier Deities.
In my past life, the Final Party and I fought them to the point of coughing blood.
Yet we managed to overcome only the upper-tier Deities at best.
We never even reached the supreme tier.
So seeing them directly was a first for me.
And simultaneously, I could not help but acknowledge it instinctively.
‘They exist on an entirely different plane from the upper-tier Deities.’
The disparity was absolute.
If they had truly, earnestly committed themselves to humanity’s destruction?
Mankind would have been scattered to the winds long before I could complete the Philosopher’s Stone.
We were able to struggle only because they treated it as mere amusement, delegating the task to lesser Deities as one might toy with playthings.
Yet.
Step. Step.
Heimdall walked before me without hesitation.
He showed deference to no one here either.
Even beneath the murderous gazes of countless supreme-tier Deities, he remained utterly unintimidated.
Always, consistently arrogant.
True to his title as Master of All Things, he simply held his chin high and walked his own path.
Then.
‘I cannot falter.’
The answer was simple.
I need only maintain the same demeanor.
I straightened my chest.
I was not overwhelmed by the magnificent surroundings.
Whether the highest-tier Deities shot me glares or not, I received their heavy gazes as if they were only natural.
I looked only forward.
I moved with a shamelessness that made it hard to believe I was a lower-tier Deity.
As if this place were my own private chamber.
“Quite arrogant, isn’t he.”
“Like master, like apostle, I suppose.”
Murmurs of displeasure leaked out from the surroundings, accompanied by throat-clearing sounds.
The Deities were each sipping Nectar from golden chalices and exchanging idle conversation.
Yet even within that gathering, distinct divisions were visible.
‘Factions.’
There were three major categories.
The Natural Faction, like Heimdall.
The Biological Faction, which wielded plague and poison.
The Material Faction, which commanded explosions and twisted the laws of physics.
And within those three massive factions, Deities of compatible temperaments clustered even more tightly together.
A thorough political arena.
But.
Heimdall was different.
He was clearly the patriarch of the Natural Faction, yet he did not join the cluster where the Natural Faction Deities gathered.
Instead, he strode directly to the empty table at the highest seat of the Garden, distinctly separated from them, and dropped himself down heavily.
One might call it ruthlessly deliberate.
Suppressing an inward chuckle, I pulled out a chair and sat directly beside him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“…!”
In that moment.
A subtle silence fell over the Garden.
The Deities’ gazes filled with astonishment.
The murmuring grew louder.
“Sitting brazenly at his side?”
“An apostle claiming the highest seat.”
“Will Heimdall really tolerate that?”
Typically, an apostle either stands as a guard behind their master or sits at a position one rank lower.
No matter how favored an apostle might be, they could never sit as equals with a highest-tier Deity.
But I paid no mind to it.
What was the harm in pulling out a chair and sitting?
Moreover, I crossed my legs and leaned back comfortably against the backrest.
At that shameless posture, several Deities darkened their expressions.
But.
Heimdall himself, the one directly involved, did not grow angry.
Rather.
“Kekeke.”
He paused mid-sip and let out a soft chuckle.
Turning to face me, he lifted the corners of his mouth in satisfaction.
As if my audacity pleased him greatly.
His eyes gleamed with approval—yes, my Apostle Deity should possess this much backbone.
“Is the seat comfortable enough?”
When Heimdall asked, I shrugged my shoulders.
“The chair is rather uncomfortable, I must say.”
The backrest was far stiffer than expected.
At my response, Heimdall laughed heartily once more.
“Hahaha! I share your sentiment. In their obsession with ostentation, they’ve tossed practicality straight into the garbage.”
Splendid on the surface, hollow within.
His words were not merely about the chair.
They were directed at the assembled Deities in this place.
The expressions of the other Deities watching us began to sour.
Some looked bewildered, others displeased, and still others observed with intrigue.
And.
Among them.
There was one group that emanated a particularly sticky and frigid killing intent toward me.
I turned my gaze toward them.
The opposite side of the Nature Faction.
A pale-skinned goddess sitting there, radiating an icy chill.
‘So that woman must be Skadi.’
I didn’t need to ask.
There could be no other Deity who would glare at both Heimdall and me with such murderous intent.
The original form of Cryos, whom I had slain, and the loser of the wager with Heimdall.
Simultaneously, the Goddess of Winter who had sealed away the Barbarians.
Her gaze met mine precisely in the empty space between us.
I did not avert my eyes.
She and countless Deities of her faction were watching Heimdall and me like beasts circling prey.
What particularly caught my attention was the space behind Skadi.
A man standing there like a shadow, as if guarding her.
‘That one is also an Apostle Deity.’
I could tell at a glance.
The quality of the cold emanating from him was different.
A heavy, refined magical power incomparable to someone like Cryos.
A true monster who had ascended to at least the upper echelon of Deities.
He was exuding killing intent as he looked at me.
I curled the corners of my mouth upward.
A smirk.
I let out a light scoff and turned my gaze away.
Continuing to glare and engage in such petty contests of will—that’s what amateurs do.
The superior approach is to show no concern whatsoever.
An attitude that declares: your murderous intent is nothing but a gentle breeze to me.
That is the most arrogant and dignified of acts.
Look at Heimdall, seated beside me.
He sat with his arms crossed, not even glancing in Skadi’s direction.
As though the barking of dogs held no sound for his ears.
I turned my gaze to survey the entire Garden.
The number of Deities gathered at the Divine Banquet appeared to number in the hundreds at minimum.
Not only the highest-ranking Deities, but all the apostolic deities they commanded had been brought as well.
‘That said.’
I shifted my attention.
‘Why is that table empty?’
At the center of the Garden.
A vast white table, so long that its end disappeared from view, had been placed there.
Upon the smaller tables where Deities gathered in clusters sat golden chalices brimming with Nectar and delicacies of every conceivable kind.
But upon that enormous table positioned in the very center.
‘…there is nothing at all.’
An empty table.
Not even a single chair had been placed there.
It was far too conspicuous a location to be mere decoration.
What purpose could it possibly serve?
As the question formed in my mind.
Footsteps echoed.
A man walked out onto the Platform at the front of the Garden.
One who had risen from where the Nature Faction had been gathered.
A massive frame.
Muscular form draped in white robes.
The moment he stood at the center of the Platform, the murmuring Garden fell silent as death.
Every Deity’s gaze converged upon him.
He was undoubtedly the conductor of this Divine Banquet, and among the highest-ranking Deities assembled here, he stood at the very apex.
“Take note of him well.”
Heimdall whispered low into my ear.
“That is Aigis.”
Aigis.
“Among the highest-ranking Deities gathered here, he holds the rank of first in the hierarchy.”
A peculiar edge sharpened Heimdall’s voice.
As though addressing a long-standing rival.
Or as though he would one day wring that creature’s neck and seize his position for himself.
A growl laced with aggression rumbled from his throat.
Aigis opened his mouth.
“Greetings, great rulers of Asgard.”
His voice was gentle, yet it carried a divine authority so weighty it resonated throughout the entire Garden.
“I commend the efforts of all gathered here today, and wish to share the accomplishments we have achieved thus far.”
Aigis began his address.
Every word that fell from his lips was utterly abhorrent.
“The recovery rate of ‘Essence’ harvested from the recently destroyed worlds has increased by 1.5% compared to previous periods.”
Essence.
Human despair and blood, the life force of crumbling worlds.
The term for the energy source wrung from such things.
“Furthermore, all worlds in the 200-Series Dimensions have at last returned to the Tower’s embrace. They have completely collapsed and become nourishment for Asgard.”
He smiled as though announcing a proud achievement.
“Thanks to this, Asgard has grown ever more abundant, and our divine power has become all the more unshakeable.”
The Deities clinked their cups and cheered.
They drained their Nectar, using the destruction of hundreds and thousands of worlds as appetizers.
My insides twisted with revulsion.
“And.”
Aigis’s expression grew solemn.
“I shall now announce the most critical matter decided at this Divine Banquet.”
He swept his gaze across the Garden.
“The primary stage of this amusement—the 400th World, that is to say, ‘Earth’—we have decided to adjust its level.”
Earth’s level.
“From its current B-rank, it shall be abruptly elevated to A-rank.”
The Garden erupted into commotion in an instant.
Raising a world’s level seemed to carry far more significance than a simple designation.
“Consequently.”
Aigis raised his hand as he spoke.
“The difficulty of episodes conducted on Earth will increase. The quality of the strengthened demonic beasts will change, and the world’s mana concentration will become dramatically denser.”
He added a warning directed at the Deities engaged in their amusement.
“Those currently enjoying the game by sending avatars down to Earth should take heed. A moment of carelessness could result in the humiliation of losing an avatar.”
When an existing avatar dies, one must generate a new one and begin cultivating it from scratch.
“The difficulty increases?”
“Does that mean the humans grow stronger as well?”
“I’ll need to feed my avatars more Nectar.”
The Deities murmured amongst themselves.
Listening to their murmurs, I grasped the general meaning.
Even at B-rank, Earth had been a world from which considerable entertainment could be extracted before its destruction.
But at A-rank, it had transformed into nothing less than the highest difficulty amusement ground.
Then, one of the Deities who could bear it no longer shot to his feet.
“I have a question!”
It was the Material Faction Deity.
“What is the reason for this sudden promotion? Could it be because of that mad avatar, ‘NONAME’, who has been sweeping through the Hall of Fame recently?”
A question that struck at the heart of the matter.
All eyes turned toward Aigis.
NONAME.
An avatar beyond specification—one who obliterated every episode occurring on Earth with overwhelming scores and even pierced through the Incomprehensible difficulty.
Aigis nodded calmly.
“Half correct, half incorrect.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Only the System would know the precise cause.”
Aigis stroked his chin.
“According to our analysis, it appears to be due to a massive influx of ‘higher-tier Deities’ participating in this 400-Series Dimension’s amusement.”
His gaze swept across the Garden.
“Compared to amusements in other worlds, the amount of ‘Nectar’ being invested in avatars on this Earth is remarkably high. Overwhelmingly so.”
An avatar spec competition.
Yamamoto and the other Deities had poured Nectar frantically—either to reclaim first place or to suppress NONAME.
That immense divine power had overloaded Earth’s System, expanding the very vessel of the world itself.
“There is no harm in it.”
Aigis smiled.
“It simply means Earth has become more fertile, saturated with Nectar. When we destroy it, the amount of ‘essence’ we harvest will be doubled accordingly.”
The Deities nodded.
It was certainly not wrong.
Greater danger meant greater reward.
Yet doubt still lingered.
“Then allow me to ask one thing.”
The Deity from before raised his voice again.
“Regarding NONAME and the other top-ranked avatars.”
The Garden held its breath.
“Could their true forms possibly be the ‘Twelve Chief Deities’?”
“The Twelve Chief Deities?”
“They are participating in the amusement?”
Uproar.
A tremendous wave of shock shattered the silence.
The Twelve Chief Deities.
They had never shown interest in the amusements of the Lower Realm.
Even when destroying other worlds, they typically refrained from creating avatars and merely observed.
There was only one circumstance in which they participated directly in the amusement.
A world of exceptional fertility.
Or, only when destroying a supreme-tier world that was S-rank or higher from birth.
That was when suspicion took root.
Why would the Twelve Chief Deities involve themselves in Earth, which had started as merely a B-grade world?
“Answer us!”
Questions came pouring down like rain.
If the Twelve Chief Deities were participating in this game, then for lower and intermediate deities, it was a dangerous gamble where they might not even get scraps—and if luck turned against them, their avatars could be torn apart and annihilated.
Aigis wore an uncomfortable expression.
“…That is a question I cannot answer.”
He averted his gaze.
“How could I possibly presume to fathom the intentions of the Twelve Chief Deities?”
Rather, that very evasion only amplified the deities’ suspicions.
The Garden filled with murmurs.
Doubt and discontent were on the verge of erupting.
Then it happened.
Kuuuuurrrruuung!
Suddenly the sky above the Garden tore open with a terrible sound.
The marble floor trembled, and goblets of Nectar swayed.
“…!”
Every murmur from the assembled deities ceased in an instant.
All eyes turned toward a single point.
Space began to distort into blackness.
Ssssshhhhk.
Darkness coalesced, and a figure emerged.
One whose mere presence seemed to extinguish all light in the Garden—a being of overwhelming, abyssal depth.
One of the Twelve Chief Deities.
“H-Hod, my lord…!”
The Dark Deity—Hod.
The moment he appeared.
Ssshhhhk.
Hundreds of supreme-tier deities seated throughout the Garden rose from their places in unison, as though bound by a single covenant.
Even Aigis bowed his head deeply.
Heimdall too uncrossed his arms and rose from his seat.
Such was the standing of the Twelve Chief Deities.
But.
The astonishment did not end there.
Brilliance!
The space beside Hod tore open, and a colossal warrior wreathed in crimson fighting spirit descended.
The War Deity.
Followed by the Sea God, treading upon azure waves.
The Thunder God, crowned in golden lightning.
One by one, they began to fill the empty spaces at the table.
“This… this cannot be…”
Someone gasped the words like a prayer of despair.
The Twelve Chief Deities.
All twelve of them had revealed themselves without exception.
An unprecedented occurrence.
Throughout the Tower’s entire history, the Twelve Chief Deities had descended upon the Divine Banquet only a handful of times.
And never—not once—had all of them appeared together.
A suffocating silence hung in the air.
It was Hod, the Deity of Darkness, who shattered that silence.
“There is no room for doubt.”
Hod gazed down upon the frozen deities and made his declaration.
“Your suspicions are correct.”
He twisted his lips into a cruel smile.
“All twelve of us Chief Deities.”
The War Deity drove a blood-stained blade into the ground, his voice joining in.
“Have resolved to create avatars on Earth.”

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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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