Chapter 35

Chapter 35. Special Surveillance Target

How suggestive.

Abdulla twisted the corner of his lips.

His gaze seemed to peel back not just me, but the very bottom of my soul.

"Lord Rag, you are a special surveillance target."

He paced slowly.

Circling me, closing in like an encirclement.

"A Seed who arrived at the Tower in record time under Lord Heimdal's aegis. The one who became master of Floor 1 with phenomenal scores. You have been rewriting every record the Tower has, one after another."

It wasn't praise.

It was suspicion.

Too fast.

Too flawless.

Therefore, suspect. That was the logic.

"Above all, this floor."

Abdulla pointed at the temple gilded in gold.

"It was upgraded to Grade A in the blink of an eye. Where on earth did you procure that enormous quantity of Nectar?"

His eyes narrowed.

"Lord Heimdal may favor you, but he would not have handed a freshly arrived Seed that much Nectar."

He'd hit the mark.

Heimdal had given me the staff, not Nectar.

And Abdulla wouldn't be able to confirm that I'd exchanged Fragments of the Broken Golden Rule for it.

Reading system logs was impossible for anyone short of whoever created or operated the game.

"Furthermore."

Abdulla stopped.

He whispered from behind me.

"Before you entered the Tower. Your background is a blank, Lord Rag. No one knows where you came from or what you were."

"......"

I shrugged.

I replied without turning around.

"Am I under any obligation to answer all of that?"

"No obligation. But it does raise suspicion."

My heart sank.

A background investigation.

He was digging into the origins of the being called 'Rag.'

A predictable course of action.

It would have been stranger if no one found it odd.

Heimdal had simply been too easygoing; to this fastidious Investigation Chief, everything about me would be riddled with questions.

'Dangerous.'

Cold sweat trickled down.

If I was exposed, it was over.

The moment it came to light that this body was an 'Avatar,' I became a public enemy.

The warning message I'd seen during character creation flashed through my mind.

[Warning: Should your identity be discovered, every god in Asgard will become hostile.]

Something that was not a god, pretending to be one.

There was no chance they'd forgive that deception.

Abdulla came around to face me again.

His demeanor had shifted.

As though the probing phase was over, he now radiated naked killing intent.

"I have a question."

He cut straight to the point.

"The Floor 1 trial. How did you annihilate the Mad God Tulkachya?"

"......"

"The aftermath was far too clean for a simple subdual by force. It was as though......"

Abdulla licked his lips.

"You had devoured him."

I flinched.

My fingertips trembled.

"Did you, perhaps, consume him?"

Abdulla's voice slithered in like a snake.

"If not, then the reverse—could Tulkachya have taken over your body and is now putting on an act?"

Mad God.

A god driven insane.

That was the charge under which he suspected me.

HUMMMM!

That was when it happened.

The Holy Sword Abriel, floating at my side, vibrated violently.

—How dare you!

Her telepathic voice shook the space.

A blinding light erupted, threatening Abdulla.

—Whom do you presume to insult?! My master is noble!

But Abdulla didn't so much as blink.

He merely studied the Holy Sword with what looked like intrigue.

I restrained Abriel.

Then I asked Abdulla.

"Can a Mad God consume other gods?"

"Of course."

Abdulla answered without hesitation.

"Mad Gods grow their power through the consumption of their own kind."

He stepped closer.

"The 'god hunter' that has been appearing recently is also very likely a Mad God. After all, it kills gods and devours their Divinity without leaving a trace."

Devours.

My class.

He Who Devours Disasters.

And the golden rune etched on my right hand.

'......Could it be?'

A seed of doubt sprouted.

The source of my ability.

What was the true nature of this power?

Was it simply a System-granted Authority, or as Abdulla suggested.......

'The power of a Mad God?'

Could a fragment of an insane god be dwelling in my right hand?

If so, was I a Mad God in the making?

Confusion swirled.

But I couldn't let it show.

That was when Abriel spoke up again.

—Silence!

The Holy Sword's edge leveled at Abdulla's throat.

—I was the guardian of the Sanctuary! For centuries, I watched over and sealed Tulkachya—do you think I would fail to recognize the aura of a Mad God?!

Her cry was impassioned.

—To doubt Lord Rag is to doubt the eyes of me, Abriel! Apologize. Now!

The fury of a Holy Sword.

The guarantee of an Archangel.

There was no more certain proof than that.

Abdulla's expression shifted subtly.

He glanced between Abriel and me for a moment.

Then.

"Heh."

He shrugged.

The killing intent vanished as though washed away.

"I was joking."

"......"

"I simply wanted to see how you would react. There were so many suspicious points, you see."

Abdulla smiled shamelessly.

"Since the Archangel is that certain, I will drop the Mad God charge. However......"

His eyes were not smiling.

"The matter of stationing an investigator is a separate issue. If you wish to clear yourself of suspicion entirely, I would suggest accepting my proposal."

The pressure continued.

If you're not a Mad God, prove it.

Accept the surveillance.

There was no grounds to refuse.

Cornered.

'What do I do?'

How was I supposed to handle this?

If I gave ground here, it was over.

But if I refused, suspicion would only deepen.

In that desperate moment.

CRASH—!

The sky split open.

An arrogant voice, accompanied by black lightning, shook the golden temple to its foundations.

"Who dares."

A typhoon descended.

Abdulla's expression froze solid.

"Threaten my Apostle."

Heimdal.

He had descended.

***

Heimdal had been bored.

The god hunter.

Even that topic, which had set the Tower abuzz, was nothing more than a yawn-inducing piece of gossip to him.

A handful of Lesser gods had died.

One high-ranking god had been erased.

So what?

The Tower's history was long.

Things like this had happened before across its vast span.

'Such a fuss.'

Only the weak let fear consume them.

For gods of the Supreme Tier like himself, these sparks would never reach them.

The reason he had come down to Floor 7 was simple.

'How are the war preparations going?'

Rag.

He was curious how much the boy he'd picked out had prepared.

Having built a floor to Grade A in such a short time and even been handed a Divine Armament, expectations were high.

But.

The first thing he heard upon arrival was a spectacle.

—Did you eat the Mad God Tulkachya?
—Are you a Mad God yourself?

Investigation Chief Abdulla.

That insufferable stickler was cornering Rag.

Heimdal's eyebrow twitched.

He was not pleased.

Not simply because Rag was being questioned.

It felt as though his own judgment was being insulted.

He was the one who had chosen the boy.

He was the one who had bestowed a Divine Armament and invested effort.

And they dared treat that boy like a deranged Mad God?

That was the same as branding Heimdal himself a fool who harbored madness.

CRASH—!

Heimdal did not hold back.

"Who dares."

He descended with lightning.

He stood before Abdulla, radiating overwhelming divine might.

"Threaten my Apostle."

That single utterance.

The air in the temple froze.

Abdulla's face went white as a sheet of paper.

"H-Heimdal......?"

Abdulla's body shook like aspen leaves.

And who could blame him?

Not all gods were equal.

Lesser, mid-tier, high-ranking.

The hierarchy was absolute.

But above even that summit.

An absolute domain where even high-ranking gods dared not raise their heads.

'The Supreme Tier!'

Those who maintained the Tower's order and governed the laws of the world.

Among them, Heimdal was the patriarch who represented the Natural Lineage.

As if an Investigation Chief could even approach him.

"Go on. Say it again."

Heimdal growled.

"You called my Apostle a Mad God? Then are you saying that I, who chose him, am mad as well?"

"N-no! That is absolutely not what I......"

Abdulla hurriedly bowed his head.

Cold sweat poured off him like rain.

He hadn't imagined this.

That Heimdal would descend in person.

Above all, the truly shocking part was that one word.

'Apostle.'

Heimdal had never once taken an Apostle.

That proud, exacting god had acknowledged a newcomer who had only just arrived at the Tower as his Apostle?

It was a first in all of history.

This was a letter of guarantee.

It meant Heimdal was staking his own name to vouch for Rag's credentials.

Heimdal took a step forward.

Abdulla stumbled backward.

"You would attach a watchdog to my Apostle? You cannot trust my eyes, so your little team will see for itself?"

"Th-that was...... a matter of procedure......"

"Procedure?"

Heimdal scoffed.

WHOOOOSH!

A colossal storm surged to within an inch of Abdulla's face.

Killing intent.

A warning from an absolute being—one who could very well follow through.

"My Apostle's territory is my territory. You would release vermin into my own domain? You have got some nerve."

"I-I was wrong! I withdraw it! There will be no surveillance!"

Abdulla screamed the words.

He couldn't hold out.

One more word of defiance and he'd be annihilated on the spot, Investigation Team or not.

Only then did Heimdal retract his killing intent.

He waved his hand as though swatting away a nuisance.

"Get lost."

"Y-yes!"

Abdulla and the investigators vanished as though fleeing for their lives.

The Spatial Transfer Gate closed.

Silence returned to the golden temple.

Thanks to Heimdal, I'd narrowly escaped the worst crisis.

But I couldn't relax.

Escaping the tiger only to meet the dragon.

Heimdal turned slowly.

......His gaze locked onto me.

Every trace of the earlier ferocity had evaporated.

In its place, a peculiar sense of anticipation settled.

"......Apostle."

Heimdal smirked.

"Even I find it a bit funny, hearing it come out of my own mouth."

He looked me up and down.

'Still, I suppose it worked out.'

Honestly, I was saved.

If Heimdal hadn't shown up, I'd have had an investigator breathing down my neck.

I bowed my head for the time being.

"Thank you."

"Save the thanks. I have not formally recognized you yet. Win the war against Cryos, and I will consider it then."

Heimdal held out his hand.

A gesture that said: hand it over.

"More importantly."

Heimdal's eyes narrowed.

His gaze settled on my hands.

"The Divine Armament I gave you. Where is The Staff of the Typhoon That Rends Flesh from Bone?"

......I ate it.