Chapter 18

Chapter 18.

The garden of the gods was peaceful.

No — it was boring.

The sound of flowing water.

A harp playing somewhere in the distance.

The fragrant scent of fruit.

A paradise where everything was perfectly tuned.

But for Heimdal, the God of Typhoons, this stillness was torture.

He sat with his chin propped up, swirling a goblet of nectar.

The golden liquid sloshed.

'Quiet.'

His thoughts inevitably drifted to one being.

Rag.

The one who'd devoured his typhoon and shamelessly proposed a deal.

— I'll climb the tower and seek out the great Ruler of All Things, 'Heimdal,' first.

That's what he'd said.

The audacity was commendable.

He'd proven his skill, too.

He'd blown the Sanctuary sky-high and become Floor 1's master.

But since then — radio silence.

The only news was that he'd become Floor 2's master by default when Caligo died.

The man had been quiet as a mouse.

"Heimdal."

Someone called him.

He turned.

A god draped in a green robe.

Partago — a supreme-tier god who presided over forest and earth.

"What is it?"

"That seed of yours. Rag, was it?"

The god sat across from Heimdal.

His eyes held a strange mix of curiosity and derision.

"Do you truly believe he'll climb all the way up here to where we are?"

Instead of answering, Heimdal tilted his goblet.

Partago continued.

"You know what this tower is like."

The tower was stagnant to the point of rot.

A structural contradiction.

The rich got richer, the poor got poorer.

For a lower-floor god to climb, they needed massive 'prosperity.'

Raising prosperity meant furnishing your floor.

Furnishing your floor required 'nectar.'

The problem was there was no real way to get nectar.

The trickle doled out every thirty days?

How long would it take to build structures and create ecosystems with that?

"On his own, there's a limit. He wouldn't clear the 20th floor in a thousand years."

Partago sent him a suggestive look.

"Are you perhaps backing him? Supplying nectar in bulk?"

If not, there was no reason for Heimdal to be this relaxed — or so he speculated.

Heimdal smirked.

He shrugged as if the idea were absurd.

"Why would I?"

"......Hm?"

"He scored zero on disaster aptitude. Not a shred of Natural-lineage authority. Why would I support someone like that?"

It wasn't a lie.

Rag's aptitude had been officially classified as 'Null.'

"I-is that so? Well, you're not exactly the charitable type."

Partago nodded awkwardly.

Heimdal rose from his seat.

"Don't worry about it. If he makes it, he makes it. If not, so be it."

He waved dismissively, as if it bored him.

But inwardly, he felt differently.

'I am curious, though.'

It was true he wasn't providing support.

Rag was flat broke.

The 100 nectar settling bonus from his Floor 1-to-2 promotion should be his entire fortune.

That money couldn't even cover a front lawn.

He could picture the poor bastard floundering.

'Maybe I'll drop by.'

The impulse struck.

It was understandable, in a way.

Suddenly shunted up to Floor 2, he'd be in a daze.

Heimdal had gone through something similar once.

Of course there'd been no time to come find him.

'Maybe I'll go toss him some pointers.'

Left alone, the boy would wither and die.

Teaching him the basics of floor management and slipping him a few nectar wouldn't hurt.

Think of it as an investment.

Heimdal exited the garden.

He stood before the spatial transfer gate.

Destination: Floor 2.

HUMMM!

The magic circle blazed.

His vision inverted.

'Arrived.'

Heimdal opened his eyes.

And tilted his head.

"......?"

There was nothing.

Literally.

Not a building, not a single tree.

No monsters, no water, no wind.

An endless white expanse.

Only silence in a barren wasteland.

"What is this?"

Heimdal looked around.

He wondered if he'd entered the wrong coordinates.

But the system clearly indicated this was 'Floor 2.'

Then — not enough nectar?

Even so, 100 nectar should be enough to plant a few saplings.

New gods always tinkered with something when they first started.

At the very least, some grass should be laid.

"Tch."

This was too much.

After a moment's deliberation, Heimdal reached a conclusion.

'He hasn't touched it at all.'

Disappointment flickered.

Neglect.

He'd given up from the very beginning.

***

My jaw wouldn't close.

I recounted the digits.

One, ten, hundred, thousand, ten thousand.......

One million.

Converting a single 'Fragment of the Broken Golden Rule' to nectar would yield one million.

The scale was in a different league entirely.

The Mythic-grade equipment I'd just checked had an exchange rate of only 5,000 nectar.

And one fragment was worth the equivalent of 200 Mythic items.

'Staggering.'

I gulped.

Of course, there was a critical catch.

There was a 'sell' button but no 'buy' button.

Meaning once I converted it to nectar, it could never be turned back into a fragment.

'Could the Fragments of the Broken Golden Rule be exclusive to me?'

Suspicion crept in.

I'd only ever obtained fragments from tutorial rewards and hidden rewards.

I'd never seen other gods use them, either.

They only ever mentioned nectar.

The fragments likely didn't exist in any standard shop or drop table.

If so, I couldn't sell them carelessly.

These were the only keys to channeling my power down to Earth.

'Shelved for now.'

I closed the exchange window.

Then pulled another item from my inventory.

The hidden reward from Episode 2.

'The Heart of the Frozen Wastes.'

A ring crafted from a transparent ice crystal.

Cold radiated from it, numbing my fingers.

I stared at the ring intently.

DING!

[Item: Heart of the Frozen Wastes]

[Grade: Mythic]

[Type: Ring]

[Base Effect: Mana +100]

[Special Effect (1): 50% immunity to frost-attribute damage.]

[Special Effect (2): Frost-attribute attack power increased by 50%.]

[Special Effect (3): Frost Wave. Attacks have a chance to inflict Frozen status on the target.]

[Special Effect (4): Frost Thorns. When struck, powerful frost damage is reflected to the attacker.]

"Ha."

Still jaw-dropping on a second look.

Mythic grade through and through.

Not a single wasted option.

Mana +100, frost immunity and amplification, plus offensive-defensive special effects.

'And they want me to sell this for 5,000 nectar?'

That would be lunacy.

No matter how desperately I needed quick cash, you don't slit the throat of the goose that lays golden eggs.

I slipped the ring onto my left index finger without hesitation.

That was when.

HUMMMMM!

Space vibrated.

Someone had appeared.

Radiating pressure so heavy it seemed to crush the very atmosphere.

— Krrrrr......!

Angragon, perched on my shoulder, shrieked and burrowed into my arms.

It was trembling like an aspen leaf.

For a being called the Dragon of Catastrophe to tremble this badly.

SWOOSH.

The holy sword Abriel, hovering at my side, quivered along her blade.

Seria's face drained white as she aimed her bow, but her fingertips shook faintly.

Fear rooted in instinct.

A higher predator — one beyond their reach — had arrived.

I raised my head.

A fissure split the white ground, and from the gap, a man stepped out.

'Heimdal.'

The God of Typhoons, and the one who'd brought me here.

He stood with his arms crossed, looking down at me.

"It's fine."

I soothed the Angragon in my arms.

I signaled Seria with a glance.

Stand down.

Resistance was pointless.

'I should have gone to him first.'

I'd promised to seek him out first upon climbing the tower.

I'd figured he'd give me more time — didn't expect him to come himself.

I stood up.

And bowed deeply.

Now was the time to lie flat.

"My apologies."

I spoke in the most respectful tone I could manage.

"I was too overwhelmed to pay you a visit. I've only just been promoted and there was much to sort out."

My changed demeanor seemed to please him — Heimdal's brow relaxed slightly.

The killing intent receded.

But his gaze was still sharp.

He surveyed the empty surroundings and clicked his tongue.

"Much to sort out, he says."

A mocking tone.

"There's nothing here — what exactly have you been sorting? Don't tell me you've given up."

Disappointment bled through his voice.

He'd gone to the trouble of bringing me in, and it looked like I'd thrown in the towel.

I shook my head.

"I was planning how to develop it."

"Planning."

Heimdal smirked.

He stared at me, then spoke as if lecturing.

"Remember this. Cultivating your floor comes first."

"......"

"Build an ecosystem, raise your floor's grade. Only then will the nectar the system distributes increase."

So floors had grades too.

It seemed that building an ecosystem, nurturing the floor, and raising its grade unlocked further benefits.

I feigned ignorance and asked.

"Are there other ways to accumulate nectar?"

"You're asking me to teach you?"

"Yes. Please enlighten me. I want to accumulate more, faster."

My question made Heimdal's eyes gleam.

Desire.

He liked those with ambition.

Heimdal clasped his hands behind his back and spoke with imperious flair.

"There are methods. Three main ones."

He raised one finger.

"First. Gather followers in the lands of Asgard, beyond the tower."

Followers.

The foundation of religion.

"Grant them territory and guarantee their safety. Then, from among them, select those who will become 'offerings.'"

"Offerings?"

"Place them upon the altar of sacrifice and have them burn themselves in sacred flame."

Heimdal said something horrific without batting an eye.

"The faith that a living offering emits as it burns — when refined, it becomes nectar of the highest purity. The most efficient method."

......Madness.

Burning living people to convert them into nectar?

My stomach turned.

But I kept my expression composed.

This was the gods' world.

Their ethics weren't human.

To Heimdal, mortals were simply livestock or resources.

"Second."

He raised a second finger.

"Clear dungeons. Dungeons generate across Asgard in real time. Clear them and claim the land as your territory. Extract the dungeon core and you'll get a tidy sum of nectar."

This was better.

Hunting and conquest.

My strongest suit.

"And the final, third. Climb the floors of this tower."

Heimdal pointed skyward.

"Make your floor powerful, raise its grade. Then challenge the master of the next floor and win. The higher you climb, the more nectar you'll naturally receive."

The law of the jungle.

The surest and most dangerous method.

And for me, the most appealing proposal.

"These three are the most reliable paths to acquiring nectar. Understood?"

"I'll commit them to memory."

When I bowed my head, Heimdal nodded with satisfaction.

He moved to leave, then paused.

As if something had just occurred to him, he turned back and added.

"Ah, right. A bit of motivation for you."

His lips curled.

"If you manage to raise this wasteland of a floor to 'A-grade' or above."

"......"

"I'll gift you one of my prized 'divine armaments' as a special reward."

A divine armament.

Literally, equipment of the gods.

On an entirely different plane from Mythic grade.

And if it was something Heimdal personally treasured, it could be even higher.

The offer was tantalizing. Fiercely so.

"Of course, it won't be easy."

Heimdal smirked.

"Several decades, at the very least."

Several decades.

I raised my head and looked Heimdal straight in the eye.

"Feel free to set your expectations high."

My gaze made Heimdal's expression turn intrigued.

"Very well. I shall."

FWIIIIING!

Heimdal vanished with the wind.

The moment that overwhelming presence lifted, Angragon finally poked its head out.

Seria exhaled a long, shaking breath.

I shrugged, then.

'He just solved my dilemma.'

I opened the inventory.

'Fragment of the Broken Golden Rule.'

I pulled out a single fragment.

Converting just one would yield a full million nectar.

Several decades?

Please.

'I'll show you what real capitalism looks like.'

DING!

[Converting 1 Fragment of the Broken Golden Rule to 1,000,000 nectar.]

I pressed the exchange button.