The Mage Who Devours Disasters - Chapter 75

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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 75.
‘I suppose I should call it the dragon of primordial catastrophe.’
I gazed down at Angargon in a daze.
The acrid, viscous demonic energy that had been pouring from the World Tree’s branches vanished in an instant.
No—it hadn’t vanished. It had been stored entirely within his belly.
Guurrrp.
Angargon let out a satisfied, resounding belch, as if his stomach were full.
His body had grown noticeably larger.
Where he had been the size of a puppy before, he now resembled a well-built medium-sized dog.
His scales had deepened in color and felt more solid.
Ding!
[Your companion ‘Angargon’ has digested vast demonic energy.]
[Growth is accelerated!]
[‘Angargon’ has transcended the infant stage and entered the toddler stage.]
The toddler stage.
The subsequent description was remarkably detailed.
[The toddler stage is when autonomy forms and rules and social norms are learned.]
[It is a crucial developmental phase where imagination and play ability flourish, grounded in attachment to the master.]
[Your companion’s intelligence rises dramatically.]
[Your companion’s level rises to 50!]
“….”
I was momentarily at a loss for words.
My mouth hung open.
“Level 50?”
I rubbed my eyes, wondering if I’d misread it.
But the number remained unchanged, pointing steadily to 50.
It was absurd.
In the Tower’s ecosystem, level 50 meant possessing combat power comparable to or exceeding that of advanced magical beasts.
Yet this creature had only just entered the ‘toddler stage.’
He was still a tiny thing who hadn’t fully shed his infantile nature.
‘What will his level be when he reaches maturity?’
I couldn’t even imagine it.
Hundreds? Perhaps far more.
In that moment, I viscerally understood that the epithet ‘primordial catastrophe’ was no exaggeration.
Kyaaaang!
Angargon wagged his tail happily and rubbed his body against my leg.
He resembled a puppy begging for more food.
I let out a hollow laugh and stroked his solid head.
This creature was truly a walking blessing beyond compare.
He had resolved this troublesome task so effortlessly, and even grown stronger in the process.
‘Anyway.’
I turned my gaze back to the table.
A single branch lay there, pristine and smooth, completely stripped of its demonic essence.
As I observed it carefully, relevant information surfaced in my mind.
Ding!
[Purified World Tree Branch]
[Description: A pure branch of the World Tree with all demonic essence and resentment completely removed. Plant it in the earth of your territory and continuously infuse divine power, and it will take root and grow.]
“Perfect.”
I picked up the purified branch.
Now all I had to do was plant it in the deepest, most fertile ground of my territory.
A lifeline to save the Priestesses, and an absolute symbol that would transform Floor 55 into Asgard’s mightiest fortress.
All preparations were complete.
I left the Secret Chamber with Angargon.
To take root in my territory—a new genesis.
* * *
Tower Floor 387.
A throne atop a mountain battered by endless tempests.
Heimdall reclined at an angle, swirling a goblet of Nectar as he gazed down upon the realm below.
A faint smile played at the corners of his mouth.
‘By now, he must be struggling quite considerably.’
Rag.
That arrogant Apostle Deity had departed with a branch of the World Tree.
He had boasted confidently that he would succeed, but Heimdall saw through to the inevitable conclusion.
‘Failure is the only path available to him.’
The demonic essence and resentment dwelling within the World Tree transcended imagination.
An accumulation of malice that had consumed the destruction of countless worlds.
Only the Supreme Tier Deities of Asgard itself possessed the power to purify it completely.
Of course, among the higher-ranking deities, there existed a few exceptional beings with divine power bordering on the miraculous.
But such cases were exceedingly rare.
For lower and middle-tier deities, it was essentially an impossible task.
‘No matter how irregular Rag may be.’
Even wielding Kwon Cheonsa’s blade and harboring something connected to the Irresistible Force.
Purifying that overwhelming demonic essence was not a matter of raw power—it was a matter of ‘rank’.
“Let him taste the bitterness of failure.”
Heimdall murmured softly.
What he desired was not a miracle.
He had never harbored the absurd expectation that Rag would succeed with the World Tree.
His true intention lay elsewhere.
‘Let him painfully recognize his own limits.’
Thus far, that creature had advanced far too easily, far too flawlessly.
That arrogance pierced the heavens themselves.
Of course, I found that arrogance appealing, but to grow into a true powerhouse, one must experience a ‘wall’.
He needed to taste the crushing despair of an obstacle he could never overcome, then learn to kneel again and beg for aid.
‘And thus, I hope it becomes the driving force for him to grow faster and more fiercely.’
It was a trial of sorts that Heimdall had imposed.
Of course, even if Rag returned, I could not offer direct assistance.
Even if I purified his demonic energy, the World Tree would not take root in territory under another’s dominion.
The intention was ultimately to drive him to surrender.
‘He’ll burn the branches to ash with Kwon Cheonsa’s blade and come climbing back, huffing and puffing.’
Heimdall chuckled softly.
Imagining Rag’s expression—twisted with frustration—already brought me delight.
That was when it happened.
Ding!
The atmosphere across all of Asgard trembled faintly.
“…?”
Heimdall froze mid-motion, the goblet of Nectar pausing at his lips.
In the empty air, a blindingly golden message window materialized, vast and luminous.
[An unprecedented miracle has occurred!]
[The World Tree has sprouted in Rag’s territory on Tower Floor 55.]
[A cradle of life has been established.]
[The mana concentration of Floor 55 rises dramatically.]
[Rag’s achievement is recorded once more in the Hall of Gods!]
“….”
Crash.
The golden goblet slipped from Heimdall’s grasp and shattered against the floor.
Sweet Nectar spilled across the frozen marble.
But Heimdall did not even register the fact.
He stood motionless, simply staring at the message window suspended in the void.
His eyes trembled uncontrollably.
“This….”
His lips quivered.
“What in the name of madness is….”
Words failed me.
Common sense crumbled to dust and scattered once more.
Rag.
By that creature’s hand.
* * *
Shock and terror engulfed everything.
All of Asgard was thrown into upheaval.
“How long has it been since the Banquet of Gods began!”
“Does this make sense? The World Tree?!”
The shock rippled through the assembled deities like a tidal wave.
It had been mere days since I made dozens of Apostle Deities kneel in blood at the Banquet of Gods.
How long had it been since they marveled at that overwhelming power?
This time, I had performed not an act of force, but a miracle.
“Heimdall must have helped!”
Someone cried out, but immediately scoffs and rebuttals poured forth.
“Nonsense. Do you think the World Tree would sprout in another’s territory just because Heimdall helped? If the caliber doesn’t match, it can’t even take root—that’s the nature of the World Tree!”
“And how in the world did he purify that insane miasma in such a short time!”
There was no explanation to be found.
It was not a primordial force that a lesser deity could handle.
A horrific mass of filth that even the Supreme Tier Deities would recoil from.
Yet he had purified it completely and brought forth life from it.
“What manner of being is he….”
Now Rag had become someone no one could easily touch.
The shield of being an Apostle Deity of Heimdall.
The overwhelming power wielding Kwon Cheonsa’s blade.
And on top of that, an S-rank territory harboring the World Tree.
Wearing only the shell of a lesser deity.
In reality, he was already eyeing the realm of the Upper Tier.
“….”
The Supreme Tier Deities of other factions quietly licked their lips.
The leaders of the Biological Faction and the rulers of the Material Faction alike.
In their eyes, Rag was no longer merely Heimdall’s pawn.
‘A coveted piece indeed.’
Some of them began to move in secret.
Too great a resource to leave in Heimdall’s shadow.
They would scheme to bend him to their faction, or else seduce him to stand at their side.
Toward the quiet Floor 55, the powers of Asgard were beginning to extend their hands of greed.
* * *
I stood with my arms crossed, gazing down at the earth behind the Golden Temple.
Uuuummmmm….
A sacred resonance.
A small sapling growing from the center of the ground, radiating blue light.
It was the World Tree that had sprouted.
I had simply planted the purified branch in the earth and poured a bit of Nectar—it grew of its own accord.
‘It grows quite rapidly.’
In just days since planting, it had already surpassed my height.
The verdant leaves pulsed with vitality, exponentially raising the mana concentration of Floor 55.
But.
“What an appetite.”
I clicked my tongue.
It was growing splendidly, but in doing so, it was drawing in Nectar like a vacuum cleaner.
Whatever I poured onto the ground, it absorbed instantly.
‘Well, it doesn’t matter.’
After all, I had obtained thirty fragments of the Broken Golden Rule from Episode 4.
Converted to Nectar, that was thirty million.
There was no reason to begrudge Nectar for cultivating a single tree.
The real problem lay elsewhere.
‘Maintenance.’
No matter how abundantly Nectar overflowed, I couldn’t spend all day standing beside this tree, sprinkling Nectar with a watering can.
I needed to venture outside, hunt the Deities, and fortify my foundation in preparation for the coming next Episode.
I turned my head to regard the girls kneeling in a line behind me.
The Priestesses I had brought from the Banquet of Gods.
They still gazed up at me with eyes mingled with fear and resignation.
“I entrust the care of this World Tree to you.”
Silence fell.
The Priestesses exchanged glances, their expressions bewildered.
“You said you were raised your entire lives eating the leaves of the World Tree. I heard that if the World Tree’s essence is severed, your bodies perish.”
I gestured with my chin toward the growing World Tree.
“Now you can live. Nurture this tree completely. Whether you pluck and eat its leaves or drink its dew, survive as you see fit.”
“….”
“Furthermore.”
I pointed to the Ancient Warriors standing solidly before them—the Barbarian Four Brothers.
“I command Turan and the Barbarians.”
“We accept your command, my lord!”
“Take charge of training these children. Rebuild their foundations from scratch. They’ve grown on the World Tree’s essence, so their potential is boundless.”
At my instruction, the Priestesses’ eyes widened as if they might split.
“Learn to wield weapons and master the flow of mana.”
I spoke coldly to the Priestesses.
“Prove your worth to me.”
“….”
“Discard the weak past when you were mere sacrifices in the Banquet of Gods. I have no intention whatsoever of using you as playthings in my territory, so rest assured and cultivate your resolve.”
In that instant.
The Priestesses’ pupils trembled violently.
They would live.
With the World Tree, they could survive.
They would not become playthings.
They would not burn to death.
Instead, they were given the chance to wield swords and cultivate the strength to protect themselves.
In this mad Asgard, it was a ‘freedom’ and ‘salvation’ that those Priestesses, burdened with mortal fate, could never have dared imagine.
“Ah….”
Hot tears streamed down the cheeks of several Priestesses.
“Thank you… Great Master….”
They wept, pressing their foreheads to the ground.
These were not tears of despair and resignation.
They were tears of resolve—to survive, to willingly stake their lives for this master and prove their worth.
I nodded calmly and headed toward the Secret Chamber.
The foundation of my Territory had been solidified.
My forces grew steadily more formidable.
And then, about three days passed.
“Master.”
Seria knocked and entered.
Her expression was filled with unease and wariness.
“What is it?”
“Well….”
Seria set down the bundle of parchments she had been holding onto the table.
Dozens upon dozens of ornate letters.
Each one bore elaborate gold leaf and magical seals.
“Requests for visits from the Deities are pouring in.”
She continued hesitantly.
“Not only lower and middle-tier Deities, but even upper-tier Deities from opposing Divine Factions have formally requested an audience with you, Master.”
I let out a quiet laugh.
Of course.
Having drawn this much attention, it would be stranger if they weren’t swarming around me.
“Will you meet with them?”
Seria asked carefully.
I leaned back in my chair.
Their intentions were transparent.
They would be trying to sway me in some manner.
A promising rising star.
A lower-tier Deity who elevated an Archangel to Kwon Cheonsa and even took root with the World Tree.
Moreover, I enjoyed Heimdall’s favor.
But that was not all there was to it.
The rapidly shifting circumstances.
To navigate these turbulent currents, a ‘variable’ like myself would be absolutely indispensable.
I scanned through all the letters.
And my gaze stopped on one of them.
I slowly opened my mouth.
“Tell the upper-tier Deity Reinhardt that I will meet with him.”
“Reinhardt… if it’s Reinhardt, he’s a Deity known as the ‘Dragon Emperor.’ He commands the Dragon Legion, one of the most formidable armies in Asgard…”
“I’m aware.”
Who else could know Reinhardt as intimately as I do?
The most dangerous among the Upper Realm Deities.
A formidable obstacle should our paths ever cross.
The monster who has slaughtered the Final Party more than any other.
But precisely because of that.
‘I need to meet him.’
I had to probe his true intentions.
* * *
As I faced Reinhardt, my thoughts crystallized.
‘Suffocating.’
As though crushed beneath an immense weight.
His presence remained unchanged—as formidable as ever.
Yet I would not be overwhelmed.
I spoke with measured calm.
“What brings you to seek me out?”
Reinhardt answered.
“Join the Heavenly Assembly, Rag.”

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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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