The Mage Who Devours Disasters - Chapter 95

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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 95.
The runway was blanketed entirely in a sea of humanity, dark as pitch.
Since the Cataclysm, international travel had become severely restricted.
Catastrophe could strike anywhere, at any moment.
The skies had become the domain of monsters, and the seas had long since transformed into nests of tidal waves and demonic waters.
Each nation was extremely reluctant to send its strongest forces beyond its borders.
And yet.
Today, that unspoken rule shattered.
“He’s arrived!”
“It’s Yamamoto! The Yamamoto!”
Flashes erupted like madness.
The roar of journalists and the rapid-fire clicking of camera shutters filled the runway.
A man descended the private jet’s stairs.
Draped in a black kimono, a long sword at his waist, he walked with deliberate slowness.
It was Yamamoto, the Combat Emperor.
Among the highest ranks in the Hall of Fame.
An overwhelming force whose arrival commanded the attention of the entire world, not merely Japan.
“Yamamoto! What is the purpose of your visit to Korea!”
“Why did the Japanese government permit your departure!”
Journalists thrust their microphones forward, shouting.
Yamamoto did not break his stride.
Elite members of the Warrior Guild following in his wake blocked the journalists’ approach with a menacing presence.
Yamamoto opened his lips toward the press.
“Exchange.”
A brief, measured word.
“Through exchange with Korea, we aim to elevate the level of awakened ones in both nations to a higher dimension.”
The words were grandiose.
Yet everyone present understood the true meaning beneath them.
Exchange?
No.
This was a declaration of war to establish hierarchy.
To crush Korea’s awakened ones and prove Japan’s overwhelming military superiority.
The Japanese government’s approval of Yamamoto’s departure, despite the risk of losing their strongest warrior, stemmed from this very intention.
A political calculation to dominate Korea through force and secure advantage in the international landscape to come.
“Welcome, Yamamoto.”
Then, parting through the crowd, a group in elegant formal attire emerged.
It was Heo Young-ho, Guild Master of the Light Guild.
He extended his hand toward Yamamoto with the most perfect business smile.
“I am Heo Young-ho, leading the Light Guild, Korea’s finest. We sincerely welcome your visit and will provide perfect support throughout your stay….”
….
Yamamoto did not take Heo Young-ho’s hand.
In fact, he didn’t even look at him.
His crimson eyes passed right through Heo Young-ho, sweeping across the formidable warriors of Korea arrayed beyond him.
It was contempt.
Thorough and absolute disdain.
Heo Young-ho’s extended hand froze awkwardly in empty space.
His face flushed crimson.
Whispers rippled through the crowd.
“Look at that—the Light Guild getting disrespected.”
“Heo Young-ho’s pride just got completely shattered.”
The awakened ones from other major guilds who had come to witness Yamamoto watched the spectacle with keen interest.
From his gait alone, his breathing, the subtle movement of his hand resting on the sword hilt—they sensed it instinctively.
‘He’s strong.’
‘On a different level entirely.’
This was not the kind of aura a human could emit.
A flawless crystallization of martial perfection with no openings whatsoever.
Even those of equal level felt the despair that they could never defeat him—it pricked their very skin.
Then it happened.
Yamamoto broke the silence and spoke.
“I seek someone.”
His voice instantly suppressed the airport’s cacophony.
Everyone held their breath.
Yamamoto’s eyes gleamed with razor-sharp intensity.
“Is NONAME present in this place?”
“…!”
In that instant, the entire runway fell silent as if doused with ice water.
NONAME.
First place in the Hall of Fame.
An enigmatic monster who had shattered the world’s common sense.
The moment that name left Yamamoto’s lips, everyone doubted their ears.
“I’m sorry? What do you mean by that…?”
A reporter stammered out the question.
“Are you saying NONAME is in Korea?”
Yamamoto smiled with a bloodthirsty edge.
“You didn’t know?”
He declared it with provocative certainty.
“NONAME is Korean.”
Boom!
The impact struck like a hammer blow to the back of the skull.
“K-Korean, you say?”
That overwhelming number one?
A monster who holds the entire world beneath their feet is from our country?
“W-what is this…!”
“Is it true? Do you have proof!”
The reporters surged forward in excitement.
But Yamamoto offered no further response.
* * *
Korea erupted into chaos.
“NONAME is Korean?!”
The internet and news were flooded with nothing but that single revelation.
People were astounded.
NONAME.
Since the Episode began, an absolute powerhouse who had never once relinquished the top position.
A mysterious monster overwhelming the entire world while shattering all conventional understanding.
The news that such a being existed in Korea struck like a thunderbolt from a clear sky.
Had some ordinary Awakener or third-rate YouTuber spouted such nonsense, it would have been dismissed as attention-seeking drivel or mere delusion.
But.
The one who had uttered these words was none other than Yamamoto.
Among the highest ranks of the Hall of Fame.
The de facto ruler who had conquered Japan through sheer force.
That such a man would risk the dangers of crossing borders, and upon arriving in Korea, the very first thing he sought was NONAME.
‘This meant his purpose was never cultural exchange—it was NONAME all along.’
People were electrified.
Who was NONAME?
Which Guild did they belong to?
Where exactly were they hiding?
Countless theories and conspiracy claims swirled about.
Yet amid all that chaos, NONAME’s whereabouts remained shrouded in mystery.
That evening.
Aura, the most prestigious club in Seoul Gangnam.
The neon sign that would normally have blazed through the night now shone with particular brilliance.
This was because Heo Young-ho, the Guild Master of the Light Guild, had rented out the entire club.
“We welcome the great Yamamoto!”
Heo Young-ho shouted, raising his champagne glass high.
The interior of the club was packed shoulder to shoulder.
Various SNS influencers, celebrities who had stubbornly survived even after the Cataclysm, and the heads and executives of Korea’s most prestigious Guilds.
Everyone was dressed in finery, enjoying premium liquor and delicacies as they reveled in the party.
“A toast!”
“Welcome, Yamamoto!”
People clinked their glasses together with obsequious bows.
Warm hospitality.
And blind flattery.
The shallow machinations of human masses desperately seeking to brush shoulders with Japan’s strongest were woven together in a sickening tapestry.
And yet.
“….”
The Protagonist, who received all those accolades and adulation upon himself.
Yamamoto, reclined at an angle in the VIP section’s prime seat, wore an expression frozen in cold indifference.
Boredom.
Ennui.
His eyes swept across the club’s dazzling lights and dancing figures with detachment, betraying not the slightest hint of interest.
It was only natural.
After all, he was no human being.
The essence coiled within his mortal shell.
One of the Twelve Sovereigns.
Among them, Ares—the War Deity who presided over blood and conflict.
For one who had obliterated countless worlds across eons and breathed the stench of carnage upon the battlefields of the Deities themselves.
This pathetic mortal revelry could never capture his attention.
‘Pathetic.’
Yamamoto propped his chin on his hand and let out a deliberate yawn.
The music assaulted his eardrums, yet to him it sounded like nothing more than the irritating flutter of noisy insects’ wings.
What he desired was not the flattery of these feeble humans.
Combat that set the blood ablaze.
Primal struggle where flesh and bone collided.
Yamamoto opened his mouth with an ostentatious yawn.
“Truly, nothing could be more tedious.”
His voice was not loud.
Yet that utterance, imbued with divine power, pierced through the club’s deafening music and struck precisely into every ear.
In an instant, the music ceased.
The dancers froze mid-motion, and the faces of the laughing, chattering Guild Masters hardened.
The atmosphere crystallized into ice in a heartbeat.
Heo Young-ho rushed forward in alarm.
“Y-Yamamoto. Is something perhaps uncomfortable… not to your taste? If there’s anything you desire, anything at all….”
“Clear it away.”
Yamamoto flicked his fingers.
“Pardon?”
“Remove all this garbage liquor and food.”
Yamamoto rose slowly from his seat.
From his body, crimson battle aura began to shimmer like heat haze.
“There’s no need to waste such a vast space.”
He twisted his lips upward while gesturing toward the club’s enormous floor.
“Clear the tables, and let us discuss our respective abilities.”
Silence fell over the gathering.
A proposal for a sparring match.
It was an utterly War Deity-like bombshell declaration—transforming the party hall into a combat arena in an instant.
“Ah…!”
Heo Young-ho’s eyes gleamed with intensity.
Rather than panic, he licked his lips as though seizing an opportunity.
‘Not a bad event.’
A chance to witness Yamamoto’s true strength with his own eyes.
Simultaneously, the perfect stage to showcase the Light Guild’s formidable power before the other guilds and Yamamoto himself.
Heo Young-ho immediately signaled his subordinates.
“Clear all the tables at once!”
The Light Guild members moved with practiced efficiency.
A massive circular space materialized in the center of the floor in moments.
Heo Young-ho laughed with unmistakable pride as he addressed Yamamoto.
“A splendid proposal. As a gesture of welcome, might the Light Guild be permitted to seek instruction from Yamamoto first?”
“Do as you wish.”
Yamamoto waved his hand dismissively, his expression bored.
Heo Young-ho turned and called out.
“Vice Guild Master!”
A man parted through the crowd and stepped forward.
The Light Guild’s Vice Guild Master.
Currently Level 45.
An overwhelmingly formidable warrior—among the top five strongest across the entire nation.
He drew the massive twin blades at his sides and took his stance before Yamamoto.
“I am honored.”
The Vice Guild Master bowed respectfully.
Yet his eyes burned with absolute confidence in victory and fierce determination.
‘Japan’s strongest, perhaps, but I am no pushover. If I demonstrate my power here…’
It was arrogance.
Yamamoto did not even draw his blade.
With his hands clasped behind his back, he gestured with his chin.
“Come.”
The Vice Guild Master’s brow furrowed.
Such complete disdain.
“You’ll regret your carelessness!”
Boom!
The Vice Guild Master launched forward, the earth cracking beneath his feet.
The speed of Level 45.
His twin blades carved lethal arcs through the empty space.
It was a strike so swift and sharp that ordinary eyes couldn’t even perceive it.
But.
“How tedious.”
Yamamoto’s lips curled into a smirk.
A soft whisper of movement.
He didn’t dodge.
He merely raised his right hand slightly.
A metallic clash erupted!
The sound of impact tore through the air.
The Vice Guild Master’s eyes bulged from their sockets.
His twin blades were stopped cold—caught in Yamamoto’s bare hand.
More precisely, two of Yamamoto’s fingers pinched the blades’ edges like a vise.
“…?!”
Incomprehensible strength.
The Vice Guild Master strained with all his might to wrench his weapons free, but they remained fixed as if embedded in stone.
“Is this truly the extent of your power?”
Yamamoto laughed with contempt.
And then.
A subtle flex.
His fingers tightened.
The blades shattered!
“Aaaaaaaagh!”
A scream tore through the club.
As the twin blades fractured, Yamamoto’s hand blade swept across the Vice Guild Master’s right palm.
A wet sound.
Blood sprayed.
Two fingers—the index and middle—flew through the air and clattered to the floor.
“Ahhh! My hand! My fingers!”
The Vice Guild Master clutched his bleeding hand and writhed on the ground.
A single gesture.
That alone was enough to utterly crush a Level 45 powerhouse.
“….”
The club fell silent as if doused in ice water.
Everyone held their breath, paralyzed by shock and terror.
Heo Young-ho’s face drained of all color.
His guild’s second-in-command had been crippled and felled in mere seconds.
“Silence.”
Yamamoto gazed down at the Vice Guild Master writhing on the floor, his voice glacial with disdain.
“Pathetic. Screaming like that over two lost fingers? Your weakness is showing.”
The War Deity.
By his standards, two fingers barely qualified as an injury.
Yet that cold mockery was trampling the pride of every Korean Awakener present at the scene.
“Now I understand Korea’s level.”
Yamamoto shook the blood from his hand and fixed his gaze forward.
It was an insult.
The atmosphere grew hostile.
Several Guild Masters clenched their fists in fury, but none stepped forward.
After witnessing the Vice Guild Master’s pathetic state, no one possessed the courage to charge in.
That was when it happened.
Thud.
Parting through the crowd, heavy footsteps echoed across the Floor.
All eyes turned toward the sound.
A black suit.
A massive longsword strapped across his back.
“How about a match with me, Yamamoto?”
The Master of the Black Tiger Guild.
Park Ji-hoon walked forward with an expressionless face.

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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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