Chapter 27

Chapter 27. Savior of the Elves

"Your typhoon doesn't work on me!"

Kusan was brimming with confidence.

He'd already tanked a typhoon head-on.

He was certain that a little wind couldn't breach his hide.

That arrogance was his fatal mistake.

CRASH—!

The instant the storm touched him.

The sneer hanging on Kusan's lips froze solid.

"......?!"

This was no ordinary wind.

Inside the vortex, countless microscopic blades of ice swirled in a maelstrom, too many to count with the naked eye.

SLICE! SLI-SLICE!

"GRAAAGH!"

A scream tore from him.

The hide they said was harder than steel was carved apart like tofu.

Chunks of flesh froze and shattered before they could even fly free.

HUMMMM!

The Mythic-grade ring on my left hand—the Heart of the Frozen Wastes—surged with power.

Fifty percent increase to cold-attribute attack power.

That insane buff poured fuel onto the Gale of Annihilation.

"My—my body......!"

Kusan thrashed, trying to flee.

But his feet wouldn't move.

The ring's special effect—Frost Wave—had punched through his status resistance and frozen his joints solid.

He couldn't move.

He couldn't block.

'Be ground to dust.'

CRASH—!

The gray storm swallowed him whole.

Even the sound of bones being pulverized was drowned beneath the howling wind.

A moment later.

Whoooosh.

The storm subsided.

Nothing remained in the center of the plaza.

Not Kusan, not the spear he'd been holding.

Only a fine white powder of frozen blood drifted through the air like snow.

"Hah, hkh......"

I staggered.

My mana had hit rock bottom.

An Ancient-grade Authority.

The power was undeniable, but the sustain was abysmal.

I hadn't expected it to drain my entire mana reserve in a mere ten-odd seconds.

But the result was sweet.

Ding!

[Combat concluded.]
[You have overcome an overwhelming gap!]
[Remarkable achievement!]
[Level increased!]

A victory that impressed even the System.

A cascade of reward notifications flooded my vision.

[Rolling a die (1~100) based on combat results.]
[100!]
[Congratulations! 'Fortune Die' activates!]
[You may roll the 'Fortune Die' once more and add the result to the existing value!]
[Rolling the Fortune Die!]

'The Fortune Die......!'

The Fortune Die.

I'd heard of it, but this was the first time I'd actually seen one.

A bonus chance that triggered at astronomically low odds when the die result approached the maximum.

An opportunity to roll once more and add the number to the current total.

'No way.'

In my past life, I'd had absolutely abysmal luck.

But things were different now.

I swallowed and threw the die.

Clatter.

[100!]
[Total: 200!]
[Limit Breach reward granted!]

'200!'

An insane number.

Light poured down.

From thin air, a pair of black leather shoes dropped with a soft thud.

Shoes embroidered with eerie patterns in red thread.

The moment I saw them, I doubted my own eyes.

[Item: Heavenly Demon Shoes]
[Grade: Mythic]
[Durability: Infinite (Indestructible)]
[Equip Condition: All stats 400 or above]
[Base Effect: All stats +150]
[Special Effect (1): Swiftness. Movement speed increased by 100%.]
[Special Effect (2): Treading Across Still Waters. You can run on water.]

......Another piece of the Heavenly Demon set.

I never imagined I'd obtain one here.

A miracle of a gift, courtesy of the Fortune Die.

With the level-up happening at just the right moment, the equip conditions were met as well.

And on top of that.

[Set Effect updated: (1/5) → (2/5).]
[Set Effect 'Heavenly Demon Divine Art' activates!]

SHUDDER!

A fine tremor ran through my body.

A thrill.

The Heavenly Demon equipment had existed before the Regression too.

Every time a single piece was discovered, a bloodbath followed.

Wars erupted between nations, and massive guilds were destroyed overnight.

Even the top-ten-ranked powerhouses in the world had, at most, barely managed to possess a single piece each.

And now.

I had gathered two pieces.

An unprecedented feat in all of history.

HUMMMM!

The armor and the shoes resonated.

A black haze coiled around my body.

It wasn't a simple stat increase.

A vision appeared before my eyes.

In pitch-black darkness, a solitary man practicing martial arts.

An afterimage of the Heavenly Demon.

He throws a punch.

Swings a blade. Takes a step.

Within those simple motions, a universe was contained.

'......Martial arts.'

Information flooded into my mind.

A flash of enlightenment.

'This is a teaching.'

I replayed the battle with Kusan just now.

It had been grueling.

My Authorities had been overwhelming, but the risks were enormous.

Mana consumption was extreme, and there were gaps—cooldowns—that left me exposed.

What if Kusan had punched through that storm and reached point-blank range?

I would have died.

'The limits of a mage.'

I had been a thoroughly orthodox mage.

My role was to maintain distance and pour out firepower like an artillery piece.

That was why I couldn't even use Abriel properly.

Despite possessing the finest weapon there was—a Holy Sword—I'd treated her as nothing more than a ranged projectile, flinging her from afar.

Because I didn't know how to wield a blade properly.

Because I avoided close combat.

'That was wrong.'

That approach couldn't kill every god.

Enemies who could close the gap as fast as Kusan—or faster—would inevitably appear.

I had to change.

I had to become a warrior and a mage at once.

'Break the mold.'

I had to shatter it. I had to evolve beyond it.

If I mastered the Heavenly Demon Divine Art, the game changed entirely.

Close range and long range.

Magic and martial arts.

I could become a monster that encompassed all of it.

I clenched my fist.

I turned my head.

"......"

Seria was standing there.

She was staring at me blankly.

Awe.

A gaze where overwhelming dread and reverence intertwined.

She was reeling from the power that had erased Kusan in a single blow.

And from the Heavenly Demon aura now radiating from my body.

But there was no time to bask in the moment.

The flames on the altar still burned.

The screams of the elves still echoed in my ears.

"Seria."

I called her name.

She snapped out of her daze.

"Y-yes! Master!"

"Sightseeing can wait."

I jerked my chin toward the plaza.

"Go save them. They're your people."

"......!"

Seria's eyes went wide.

She looked at the altar.

Then back at me.

"May I...... truly?"

"Go."

I turned away.

"I'll handle the cleanup. You go do what you need to do."

Seria clamped down on her lip.

She bowed deeply.

"Thank you......!"

WHOOSH!

She launched herself forward without hesitation.

Not a moment's pause in her retreating figure.

I watched her go with a faint smirk.

Then I faced forward again.

Kusan was dead.

The gatekeeper was gone.

That left only one thing.

The master of this territory.

The God of Frost, Cryos.

There was no chance he hadn't noticed this commotion.

It wouldn't be long before he caught on.

If he learned Kusan was dead, he might come personally.

An all-out fight would be a guaranteed loss.

Even though I'd climbed the Tower and gained Divinity, as a fellow Lesser god, our caliber was still far from equal.

He was a monster who had accumulated Divinity over a long span of time.

I'd barely managed to take down his gatekeeper, Kusan—and only just.

I had to wrap things up quickly and get out.

CLANG! CLA-CLANG!

Seria leaped atop the altar.

Her hands moved frantically.

Chains were severed.

Tribespeople, scorched by the flames, tumbled to the ground.

"Snap out of it! Everyone, get up!"

Seria wailed.

At the sound of her voice, focus returned to the hazy eyes of the elves.

Among them, the dead outnumbered the living.

But those who had survived desperately lifted their heads.

Their gazes fixed on Seria.

"......Se-Seria?"

An elder with a face ravaged by burns reached out a trembling hand.

The tribe's elder.

"Is that really you, Seria? You were alive."

"Elder......"

Seria propped the old man up.

Thick tears fell from the elder's eyes.

It was anguish.

"Why...... why did you come back?"

The elder beat his chest.

"We were waiting. Waiting for you to return as a god."

"What do you mean......?"

"We made a pact with the God of Frost. If we willingly became Offerings and gave him Nectar, he'd use that power to make you a god! He said it was the only way to reclaim our stolen land!"

Seria's expression crumbled.

A lie.

A bald-faced lie.

Cryos had only ever intended to use them as fuel and discard them.

And the tribe had believed that lie and sacrificed themselves.

For her.

To make her a god.

"Ah......"

Seria sank to the ground.

Guilt closed around her throat.

I gripped Seria's shoulder.

"Get up."

I said it firmly.

"There's no time for tears."

Now was not the time for sentiment.

I surveyed the surviving Frost Tribe members.

A few dozen at most.

Children and women who had been hiding behind rubble at the edge of the plaza crept out as well.

All together, they barely numbered a hundred.

Their eyes held nothing but despair.

I spoke firmly.

"Your land is gone."

The elves stared at me.

"Stay here and you'll become Offerings. Nothing more."

"Then where are we supposed to go?"

The elder cried out.

I pointed toward the Tower of God.

"I'll give you new land."

"......?"

"A place with no cold, no suffering, no exploitation. There, you can start over."

I extended my hand.

"Choose. Die a pointless death here, or follow me and stand again."

The elves murmured among themselves.

They clearly didn't trust me.

Of course not.

They had been betrayed by a god and turned into Offerings.

Trusting another god would not come easily.

That was when Seria stood up.

She wiped her tears.

And took her place beside me.

"Believe in him."

Seria spoke with absolute conviction.

"This is Lord Rag. He is the master I serve, and the one who came to save us."

"Seria—the god you serve?"

"Yes. He is nothing like the God of Frost. Lord Rag keeps his promises."

Seria looked at me.

Every trace of the hostility from the beginning was gone.

A gaze brimming with desperate hope—pleading, praying that I was different from the God of Frost, Cryos.

"......"

"......"

The tribespeople looked at one another.

They had no other options.

It was also a fact that I had killed Kusan and rescued them.

Staying here meant death all the same.

The elder sank to his trembling knees.

"......We will follow. Please save us."

The entire Frost Tribe bowed their heads before me.

***

The God of Frost, Cryos, sat upon his throne.

His mood was foul.

Today's Nectar yield had dropped, and it irked him.

'Lazy wretches. I told them to stoke the fires.'

That was when it happened.

BANG!

The doors of the audience chamber were thrown open.

A soldier crawled in.

Drenched in blood.

One arm severed, he dragged himself across the floor to the foot of the throne.

"L-Lord Cryos......!"

"What is it."

Cryos furrowed his brow.

The soldier gasped for breath and raised his head.

His eyes were filled with terror.

"K-Kusan has...... been slain."

"What?"

Cryos's eyebrow twitched.

Kusan.

The gatekeeper who guarded the floor's entrance.

Simple and brutish, but dependable when it came to raw force.

And Kusan had been slain?

"By whom? Which faction?"

"Th-that's......"

The soldier swallowed dryly.

"He said he was...... Lord Heimdal's herald."

"......Heimdal?"

Cryos couldn't believe his ears.

Heimdal, the God of Typhoons.

The pinnacle of the Natural Lineage. A Supreme Tier god.

Why on earth would he......?

"The herald appeared...... tore Kusan to shreds...... and took the Offerings."

"The Offerings?"

"Yes. He took every last one of the Frost Tribe elves and vanished."

Silence.

Cryos's mind churned.

Heimdal had sent a herald.

Killed my subordinate.

And stolen the elves—my Nectar supply line.

Why?

No matter how he thought about it, nothing added up.

Above all, the method was far too aggressive.

He could have sent a herald and settled it with words, yet he'd gone so far as to kill the gatekeeper and plunder?

This was an unambiguous act of hostility.

It was a declaration of war.

Of course, there was no chance Cryos could match Heimdal in a fight.

"Are you certain? It was truly Heimdal's herald?"

"A-absolutely! The staff he carried...... I saw the Divine Armament that summons typhoons with my own eyes!"

A Divine Armament, no less?

There was no room for doubt.

Cryos bit his lip.

But he was not entirely without recourse.

Because he was an Apostle God.

If the Supreme Tier god that Cryos served intervened, even the great Heimdal would be powerless to act!

"......I must seek an audience with Lady Skadi."