Chapter 25

Chapter 25.

"Achoo!"

I sneezed.

'Is someone talking about me behind my back?'

Probably not.

Who would be badmouthing me?

Park Jihun was probably burning with loyalty, and Park Hayan was probably shedding tears of gratitude.

It was praise, most likely.

The sound of people singing my praises from unseen places must have carried all the way here.

Anyway.

'Next up is a large-scale episode. The perfect opportunity to hunt multiple Avatars.'

Episode 3.

Unlike the previous episodes, this one would be conducted on a massive scale.

Perhaps because of that.

There was still a bit of time before it began.

My preparations on Earth were complete.

It was time to return to the main job.

"Are you all right?"

Floor 2 of the Tower.

Seria asked with a worried expression, watching me sneeze.

"I'm fine."

I said it as though it were nothing and surveyed my surroundings.

The mana was far denser than before.

The dignity of a Floor upgraded to Grade A.

And on top of that.

I narrowed my eyes as I looked at Seria.

"You've changed."

Her presence had shifted.

Before, she had been like a sharp shard of ice; now she carried the weight of a massive glacier.

A faint radiance flowed from her skin, and her gaze had grown deeper.

This was not the result of ordinary training.

There was only one explanation.

"You've been drinking the Nectar regularly?"

"Yes. I drank one glass every morning, exactly as you instructed, Master."

Just as I'd thought.

I stroked my chin.

The truth was, I couldn't feel Nectar's effects on myself.

No matter how much I drank, it was nothing more than a tasty beverage—my stats didn't go up or anything.

The reason was simple.

'My Talents are already maxed out.'

I'd pushed every stat to the limit during character creation.

The vessel was already full; pouring more in would only make it overflow.

But Seria and Angragon were different.

They were still growing.

Nectar was a crystallization of divine power.

It seemed that the more you drank, the more it forcibly unlocked dormant potential and expanded the vessel itself.

"Kyaaang!"

Before I knew it, Angragon had flown over and perched on my shoulder.

He'd grown quite a bit too.

The little guy who'd been fist-sized was now roughly the size of a puppy.

The sheen of his scales alone told the story.

'The effects are undeniable.'

I mulled it over for a moment.

What if I fed Nectar to Park Jihun and Park Hayan as well?

'Avatars are still human in the end. Given that the gods use Nectar to strengthen their Avatars, there shouldn't be any side effects.'

Above all, Park Jihun was an S-class Awakened, and Park Hayan was the Spirit Monarch.

Prodigies born under heaven's favor—they could handle it.

If anything, the problem might be them getting too strong.

'If Nectar works on humans too, it'll be a huge asset in keeping the Avatars and gods in check.'

I decided to think of it positively.

I rose to my feet.

Stretched out my body.

CRACK.

The sound of joints popping into place was satisfying.

"Get ready."

At my words, Seria readjusted her bow.

Abriel floated at my side in the form of a Holy Sword.

Angragon wagged his tail, blazing with fighting spirit.

"Where are we going?"

At Seria's question, I answered briefly.

"Outside the Tower."

"......Pardon?"

Seria's eyes went wide.

"You mean the Asgard mainland? You must not! It's too dangerous!"

She rushed to block my path.

The Tower's floors were zones under the System's protection.

But outside the Tower—Asgard, the land of the gods—was lawless territory.

A jungle of survival of the fittest, teeming with wild Demonic Beasts and prowled by hyena-like gods hungry for territory.

It was far too soon for a rookie god who had only just reached Floor 2 to set foot there.

"I know it's dangerous."

I replied evenly.

"But there's a reason I have to go."

I looked Seria straight in the eyes.

"Guide me to where the Frost Tribe is."

"......!"

Seria's body went rigid.

Her people.

The ones she should have been protecting—but had to leave behind because she lacked the strength.

"Why...... would you do that?"

"I need Followers."

I was straightforward.

"My Floor is perfect. Buildings, resources, environment—all Grade A. But there's exactly one thing it's missing. 'Residents' to live there."

A golden city, standing empty.

I needed a people to fill it.

And if they happened to be a race with fierce loyalty and exceptional combat prowess, all the better.

The Demonic Beasts available for summoning through the Shop had their limits.

'Purchased Demonic Beasts don't grow.'

Their output was fixed.

Most were common, low in intelligence, and incapable of growth.

And that wasn't all.

They couldn't leave the Tower, either.

But when Seria heard my words, her expression turned ice-cold.

Her hand gripped her bow tight.

"......You said Followers."

Her voice trembled.

"Are you planning to bring them here and use them as Offerings?"

A misunderstanding.

But a reasonable suspicion.

Hadn't even Heimdal advised me to do exactly that?

To gather Followers, sacrifice them as Offerings, and harvest Nectar.

That was the common sense of this world—the most widespread method by which gods obtained power.

A flash of despair and betrayal crossed Seria's eyes.

She must have thought that the master who had taken her in was, in the end, planning to burn her family as fuel.

"Don't be stupid."

I smirked.

"Do I look broke to you?"

"......What?"

"Burn living elves just to scrape together a few drops of Nectar? I don't do cheap work like that."

I shrugged.

"You've seen how I spend Nectar."

Seria's mouth fell open, speechless.

That was right.

This man was the eccentric who had blown through a million Nectar like water to furnish his Floor.

He'd even shared a glass with her every single day.

Nectar flowing from some unknown, seemingly bottomless well.

There was simply no reason to wring it out of Followers.

"Th-then why......"

"I'm bringing them here to give them a place to live."

I pointed to the golden city on Floor 2.

"To eat, sleep, and train here. I'm planning to raise them as my personal soldiers."

Migration.

It meant bringing her entire tribe to this paradise.

Seria's eyes wavered.

"B-but...... my tribe has great pride. They won't easily abandon their homeland. And their territory is currently under the rule of the 'God of Frost.'"

"It has to be now."

My voice grew heavier.

"If I don't bring them now, the Frost Tribe will be annihilated."

"......Annihilated?"

A memory from before the Regression.

It was during the assault on the Tower's fiftieth floor.

The dying words of its master, the God of Frost, had lingered in my mind ever since.

—Heh heh heh! Seria—how did that foolish wench die? If I'd known it would come to this, I should have at least told her I burned her tribe as Offerings ages ago! What a shame I couldn't see the despair on her face before dying!

He had laughed.

Cackling that it was a pity he couldn't watch Seria's face twist in despair before the end.

At the time, I had dismissed it as the bitter curses of a defeated enemy.

'But it was the truth.'

Hadn't Heimdal told me?

How Nectar was obtained.

That there was a method involving burning Offerings to refine them into Nectar.

Most likely, Seria had made a deal with the God of Frost.

Serve as a Middle Manager and guard his floor, and he would guarantee the Frost Tribe's safety.

Or perhaps he'd promised to return their territory.

A bald-faced lie.

And knowing it was a lie, I couldn't stand by.

Because I'd made a promise.

To reclaim her territory.

But that alone wasn't enough.

What good was reclaiming territory if no Frost Tribe members remained? It would be worse than not keeping the promise at all.

Seria would fall into even deeper despair.

And so.

'I save all of them.'

The moment the decision was made, I moved.

***

Northern Asgard.

A land of bitter cold, scoured by perennial snowstorms.

Territory ruled by the God of Frost.

WHOOOOSH!

A biting gale tore through the air.

"Halt!"

Before the gates of a fortress enclosed by massive walls of ice.

Soldiers clad in ice armor leveled their spears and blocked the way.

"This is the territory of the God of Frost, Lord Cryos. Entry by outsiders is forbidden."

A murderous atmosphere.

'Too many of them.'

An all-out battle was out of the question.

If, by some chance, Cryos himself or his elite forces showed up, we wouldn't survive.

But I didn't so much as blink.

Backing down here was the worst option.

Instead, I lifted my chin and looked down at them with open arrogance.

"Move."

"What?"

"Are you deaf? I said open the way."

The soldiers' faces twisted in fury.

They had never seen anyone brazen enough to cause trouble in a Lesser god's territory like this.

"You must have a death wish!"

As the soldiers readjusted their weapons and prepared to charge.

HUMMMM!

I drew the staff from inside my coat.

The Staff of the Typhoon That Rends Flesh from Bone.

The blue gem embedded at its tip spun ferociously, whipping up a storm.

CRASH—!

A violent wind slammed into the soldiers.

Spear shafts rattled and helmets were ripped away.

The overwhelming gale forced them stumbling backward.

"Y-you're......!"

"I have come as the herald of the Ruler of All Things, the great God of Typhoons, Lord Heimdal."

A problem I couldn't solve on my own.

And so, I traded on Heimdal's name.

THUD!

I drove the staff into the ground.

"You dare stand in the way of His herald?"

The moment Heimdal's name left my lips, the soldiers' pupils shook as though an earthquake had struck.

The apex predator of Asgard.

The pinnacle of the Natural Lineage!

A being no mere Lesser god could even dream of challenging.

"L-liar! Why would Lord Heimdal bother with a backwater like this......?"

"You see this staff and still don't understand?"

I thrust the staff forward.

WHOOOM!

Blades of howling wind.

A savage energy that seemed ready to tear the very fabric of space.

That was when it happened.

An old soldier standing at the rear of the formation let out a strangled cry.

"Dear gods!"

He went white as a sheet and dropped to his knees.

"Th-that's...... a Divine Armament! That is Lord Heimdal's treasured staff!"

"What?"

"I saw it in my youth! That staff cannot be imitated!"

The old soldier trembled violently and pressed his forehead to the ground.

"Slay me! I failed to recognize you!"

The mood reversed in an instant.

Carrying a Divine Armament meant speaking with that god's authority.

What was more, he had used it.

He had called forth a typhoon.

There was no more perfect herald than this.

In other words, touching me was tantamount to a declaration of war against Heimdal.

The God of Frost, Cryos?

A mere Lesser god who would be erased if Heimdal so much as lifted a finger.

The soldiers cast aside their spears and threw themselves to the ground.

"Forgive us!"

"Open—open the gates! Now!"

CREEEEEAK!

The massive ice-wall gates swung open.

I scoffed and strode inside.

Seria followed behind me in a daze.

"Master, that was truly magnificent......"

"All bluster."

I shrugged.

But the moment I stepped through the gates, the composure drained from my face.

"......"

A stench that seared the nostrils.

The smell of burning flesh.

In the center of the plaza stood a massive altar.

Crimson flames roared atop it.

And upon it.

"AAAAGH!"

"Please, save us! It burns!"

There were people.

Elves, shackled in chains, writhing in the blaze.

White skin, silver hair.

The Frost Tribe, without a doubt.

"Wh-what is...... Aah......!"

Seria's legs gave out beneath her.

She clapped a hand over her mouth.

It was a scene from hell.

Dozens of elves were being burned alive.

Their screams and agony rose into the air, drawn into a crystal orb perched at the top of the altar.

A golden liquid.

Nectar.

The divine elixir, refined from faith and life force.

The 'most efficient method of obtaining Nectar' that Heimdal had spoken of was unfolding before my eyes.