Chapter 11

Chapter 11.

The garden of the gods sank into silence.

The muses who'd been playing music, the spirits who'd been attending — all froze.

Because of the red system message floating in the air.

[A new master of Floor 1 has been born.]

[Name: Rag]

[Overall Evaluation: Overwhelming]

[All-time Seed Evaluation Ranking: 1st]

['Rag's' name has been recorded in the Hall of the Gods.]

Overwhelming.

That single word explained everything.

The runner-up Darakan's score was a measly 2.

Rag's score was 300.

This was a massacre.

A result that had trampled every competitor's pride and shattered the judges' standards.

"......Good lord."

Someone let out a hollow laugh.

That sound became the signal flare.

"Does that...... even make sense?"

"300 points. Unless the system glitched."

"He blew up the entire Sanctuary?"

Murmurs spread like waves.

Shock. And envy.

But what truly twisted the gods' expressions was something else entirely.

In the image, at Rag's side.

The dazzling holy sword floating beside him as if escorting him.

"Abriel......"

"That noble archangel knelt before a mere seed?"

Abriel had been a coveted talent.

Many gods had salivated at the thought of making her their vassal.

But she'd been proud.

She hadn't spared a glance for most gods — and now she'd pledged loyalty to a newcomer who'd only just reached Floor 1.

It burned.

The twisting in their guts was unbearable.

Jealousy's flames scorched the garden.

And at their center.

"Hehehe......"

A deeply unpleasant laugh seeped out.

It was Heimdal, the God of Typhoons.

He swirled his goblet of nectar and surveyed the room.

"Well?"

An arrogant voice.

"Is it proven now?"

Every god's eyes locked onto him.

Heimdal continued without a care.

"All that talk of privilege and parachutes. The results speak for themselves, don't they? My eye was not wrong."

Several gods bit their lips at his words.

No rebuttal was possible.

The results were far too clear.

But they didn't want to concede, either.

Particularly the cluster gathered in a corner of the garden — they wanted it least of all.

They exchanged glances.

A group that radiated a dank, insidious aura.

Gods of the 'Biological' and 'Material' factions.

The tower's power structure was divided broadly into three.

The 'Natural' lineage, commanding typhoons, earthquakes, tsunamis.

The 'Biological' lineage, commanding plagues, curses, poisons.

And the 'Material' lineage, commanding explosions, collapse, manipulation.

Heimdal was the patriarch of the Natural lineage.

Naturally, in terms of raw destructive power, the Natural lineage reigned supreme.

The other two factions had endlessly checked and allied to counterbalance that power.

The third gate — the 'Sanctuary Purification' — must have been their joint venture.

'They cut a deal with Gugu because they wanted Tulkachya's authority.'

It was obvious without even looking.

Using the seeds as bait to eliminate Abriel, then securing the sealed mad god Tulkachya.

That had been their goal.

Tulkachya's authority, 'Rampaging Volcano.'

A power that seized and shook the veins of the earth, forcibly warping the flow of nature.

One of the best authorities for suppressing lesser Natural-lineage gods.

If combined with another powerful authority, its destructive potential would be beyond imagination.

And yet.

'......Rag annihilated Tulkachya.'

The plan had shattered to pieces.

Perhaps that's why.

Killing intent was quietly rising.

The eyes of the Biological-lineage god, the 'Plague Lord,' narrowed.

'That one is dangerous.'

Not simply because he was strong.

He knew how to flip the board.

Above all, he had Heimdal's backing.

They couldn't stand by as the Natural faction's influence grew further.

"Heimdal."

The Plague Lord stepped forward.

"An impressive seed, I'll admit."

His smile was acrid.

"But a nail that sticks out too far gets hammered down. Floor 1 is only the beginning, isn't it?"

A veiled threat.

A warning that the road ahead would be anything but smooth.

Who knew what might happen during the climb?

Assassinations disguised as accidents.

Unfair trials.

The gods had more than enough room to intervene.

Hearing those words, Heimdal's expression turned ice-cold.

CRASH.

He hurled the goblet in his hand to the ground.

The sound of shattering glass split the silence.

FWIIIIING!

Wind rose.

No gentle breeze.

A prelude to a razor-sharp storm that could rip space apart.

"......Are you threatening me right now?"

Heimdal rose from his seat.

The divine might radiating from his body blanketed the garden.

The Plague Lord flinched and took a step back.

"Listen well."

Heimdal's eyes flashed.

He glared at the Biological and Material gods one by one, snarling.

"I've called dibs on that one."

A declaration.

"If anyone lays so much as a fingertip on him without my permission."

KABAAAAM!

A massive whirlwind erupted in the center of the garden.

The sky turned black and lightning struck.

The fury of the Natural lineage's apex predator.

"It's war."

Heimdal twisted his lips into a grin.

***

My head felt like it was splitting.

A throbbing ache.

Like someone had tossed my brain into a blender — similar to the worst hangover imaginable.

And yet.

'......What's this?'

Strangely cozy.

My back wasn't sore.

As comfortable as lying on a cloud, with a faint floral fragrance drifting through the air.

I slowly opened my eyes.

The first thing I saw wasn't blue sky.

It was open air.

My body was floating.

To be precise, I was cradled in someone's arms.

And in what could only be described as a 'princess carry,' no less — as if I were some precious treasure.

"......"

I slowly raised my gaze.

A blindingly white jawline.

Golden irises.

My eyes met those of Abriel — the woman who'd transformed into a holy sword.

She smiled with gentle benevolence and asked.

[Did you sleep well, my master?]

"......"

I needed to assess the situation.

So I'd passed out.

The trial was over.

And this woman had been carrying me through the sky.

......But why was she still holding me?

"Put me down."

[Your body has not yet recovered. It would be best to rest a little longer......]

"It's embarrassing. Put me down."

I was firm.

Abriel, looking reluctant, set me on the ground with the utmost care.

The instant my feet touched solid ground, I surveyed my surroundings.

Still the Sanctuary.

But the scenery had changed.

The rotting trees and dark crimson mist were gone, replaced by nothing but clear, crisp air.

A perfect purification.

"Congratulations! Mister Rag!"

A familiar voice.

Administrator Gugu waddled over.

"Sincere congratulations on becoming the master of Floor 1! An overwhelmingly unprecedented record!"

Gugu's wings flapped with gusto.

I rubbed the back of my neck and nodded.

I remembered.

Mad God Tulkachya.

I'd chewed up and swallowed that massive lump of disaster with my own hand.

A searing heat pulsed from deep in my gut.

Seemed like digestion had gone well.

"So do I go up now?"

"Ah, before that, there's one more procedure."

Gugu pointed a wing toward where the seeds had gathered.

The surviving remnants.

They were staring blankly — not at me, but at Abriel standing behind me — with eyes full of reverence.

"Before ascending to Floor 1, you may designate one seed to take with you."

"I can bring whoever I want?"

"Yes. Think of it as a 'middle manager' role."

Middle manager.

In plain terms, he was telling me to pick a mid-boss for Floor 1.

A tower's master was the apex predator of their floor.

But one person couldn't manage an entire floor alone.

The logic was that they needed a subordinate to serve as their hands and feet.

"Of course, it's not free labor. The chosen seed receives tremendous privileges as well."

Gugu elaborated.

"A lesser divinity is granted according to the floor's tier. The benefits to their race are enormous too. Above all......"

Gugu lowered his voice.

"If performance is good, they may even be promoted to a true 'god.' If the master ascends to a higher floor, or passes down their seat."

The moment those words dropped.

FWOOSH!

The look in the seeds' eyes transformed.

The gazes that had regarded me like a monster just moments ago were nowhere to be found.

Desperation.

Yearning.

Pleading eyes begging me to look their way.

This was a lifeline to godhood.

Starting as a subordinate, sure, but it was a hundred — a thousand — times better than failing to reach Floor 1 and washing out.

"M-me! Please take me!"

"I'll carry your bags! Just give me any order!"

Hands shot up and voices clamored from every direction.

Pride was a distant memory.

I smirked and turned to Gugu.

"Who should I bring?"

"Hm, statistically speaking......"

Gugu scanned the charts.

"It's customary to take the second-place finisher. Their ability is proven."

Gugu's gaze drifted to one spot.

Darakan was standing there.

He faked a dignified cough, but his shoulders were practically touching his ears with anticipation.

"Mister Darakan possesses the 'Abyssal Dragon' and has decent disaster aptitude. He'd be the ideal candidate to complement your...... well, to handle the practical aspects."

Not wrong.

The Abyssal Dragon was powerful.

In terms of firepower alone, it was more than adequate for a Floor 1 mid-boss.

Darakan sidled half a step forward, sneaking glances.

"Ahem. Well, if you really insist, I suppose I could help......"

Still that insufferable tone.

But his eyes were screaming 'please pick me.'

I stroked my chin.

An efficient choice, certainly.

But.

'The real gem is someone else.'

When there was a seed here with more talent than Darakan, why bother choosing him?

Above all, I didn't like the guy.

The way he swaggered around on his summon's coattails. The way he postured without knowing his place.

"Not needed."

"......Excuse me?"

Darakan's expression froze.

Gugu blinked in surprise as well.

"Then who......?"

I pointed.

Not at Darakan — at the woman standing alone in the far corner behind him.

"You're coming with me."

A cold demeanor.

White hair.

And eyes glaring at me as if she wanted to kill me.

Seria, the elf of the Frost Tribe.

"......Me?"

Seria frowned.

Her expression said she couldn't comprehend it.

Understandably.

She'd scored 1 point in contribution.

Lower than even Darakan.

"M-Mister Rag? Are you serious?"

Gugu tried to dissuade me.

"Even combining her scores from the first and second gates, she's not among the top seeds. And her personality...... she seems to have some issues with social skills."

"Doesn't matter."

I was resolute.

Contribution? That was just a number the system assigned.

My eyes saw differently.

'Because she'll grow into the strongest sniper.'

The sniper who'd terrorized our strike force across the snowfields of the 50th floor.

That potential couldn't even be compared to the Abyssal Dragon.

I walked toward Seria.

She tightened her grip on her bow, openly guarded.

"Why me?"

"Don't you want to reclaim your lost territory?"

"......!"

Seria stared at me with startled eyes.

As if wondering how I knew that.

The reason she'd remained as the 50th floor's mid-boss despite having the talent to become a god — it had only ever been for her family.

'Right before she died, she definitely said she had to reclaim her territory.'

She'd sacrificed herself to take back the Frost Tribe's stolen homeland.

— Mom, Dad...... I'm sorry. For our tribe...... our stolen land...... I have to take it back.......

That anguished voice still lingered in my ears.

"I'm giving you an opportunity."

I extended my hand.

"Follow me."

Seria's eyes wavered.

A moment of silence.

She stared at my hand, then lifted her head as if she'd made up her mind.

"......Don't regret it."

TAP.

She took my hand.

It was cold, but the heat within it burned.

DING!

[The middle manager of Floor 1 has been decided.]

[Frost Tribe member 'Seria' becomes your vassal.]

[Transporting to Floor 1 of the tower.]

Darakan's wail reached me from behind.

"Th-this is insane! I'm second place! I'm the master of the Abyssal Dragon!!"

***

FWIIIIING!

My vision brightened.

Before the aftereffects of the spatial transfer could fade.

I blinked.

"......"

Silence.

Seria at my side, Angragon on my shoulder — both were quiet.

Only Abriel, transformed into the holy sword, emitted a soft glow.

We stared blankly ahead.

"This is Floor 1?"

Seria muttered in disbelief.

She was right.

It was utterly absurd.

The tower was the gods' domain and a place that subjected entrants to trials.

It should have been properly prepared.

But the scene before us was, quite literally, 'nothing.'

An endless white expanse.

White sky, white ground.

Not a single tree, not a blade of grass.

Forget buildings — not even a stray pebble rolled by.

Just an enormous empty lot.

When I narrowed my brow, a cough came from beside me.

"Ahem. Surprised, are we?"

It was Administrator Gugu.

He flapped his wings and smiled sheepishly.

"Allow me to explain. The previous master of Floor 1 was promoted to Floor 2 and...... packed up everything when they left."

"Everything?"

"Yes. The ecosystem they'd built, buildings, monsters, traps, and so on. Every last bit."

Gugu pointed a wing at the vast emptiness.

"Quite the frugal one. Thanks to them, Floor 1 has been thoroughly emptied. A blank slate, in the truest sense."

Unbelievable.

That wasn't frugal — that was a clean sweep.

"So what am I supposed to do here?"

"Fill it up from scratch!"

Gugu chirped brightly.

"If you head to the center of the floor, you'll find a massive crystal. You can purchase whatever you need there."

Utterly irresponsible.

"Well then, best of luck!"

POP!

Gugu vanished as if fleeing.

All that remained was the empty white space and us.

"......Ha."

I let out a hollow laugh.

Start from zero.

Tower of the gods, they said — felt more like a real estate scam.

"......Master. What do we do now?"

Seria asked, adjusting her bow.

Her speech had changed.

At least she'd acknowledged me as her master — that was something.

And her eyes were unwavering.

Good stock, as expected.

"Let's get the lay of the land first."

I calmed myself.

No rush.

Panicking wouldn't make buildings sprout from nowhere.

First, I'd take stock of the hand I'd been dealt.

HUMMM.

The holy sword floating in the air — Archangel Abriel.

— Kyaaang.

The baby dragon licking my cheek — Angragon.

And.

The Frost Tribe sniper — Seria.

'Not bad.'

More than enough, honestly.

'......Wait.'

A memory suddenly flashed through my mind.

There was something I'd forgotten.

When I'd devoured the mad god Tulkachya in the Sanctuary.

The final system window that had appeared alongside the level-up message.

[Rolling the die (1-66).]

[66! A catastrophic reward is granted!]

Catastrophic reward.

Different from the jackpot (100) when Angragon was summoned — another lottery of nightmarish odds.

I still hadn't checked that reward.

I'd been so caught up rushing to Floor 1 that I'd completely forgotten.

'Inventory.'

I reached into the air.

The translucent space opened.

The existing Wings of the Spirit and Golden Rule fragments.

Beside them, a newly generated item slot.

And the instant I confirmed its identity.

"......Insane."

My eyes went impossibly wide.

'An Authority Combiner?'