Chapter 38

Chapter 38. Ego Weapon

"......"

I couldn't breathe.

My thoughts ground to a halt.

A vertigo gripped me, as though someone were wringing my brain.

I checked the system message floating before me again, eyes trembling.

[Currently bestowed soul: 'Force Majeure']

Force Majeure.

The Absolute God.

The being who sat at the Tower's highest peak, that unreachable summit, and looked down upon us—treating Earth's destruction as idle entertainment.

The ultimate devil, who must have tipped back a wine glass while watching humanity despair, scream, and finally crumble to dust.

The very one I'd detonated my own heart to take down with me.

'Why is it inside me?'

It made no sense.

I had killed it. Definitively.

I'd overloaded the Philosopher's Stone and annihilated its existence.

And then I'd regressed.

Soul Bestowal?

I didn't even have a memory of attempting such a thing.

And yet, in the deepest reaches of my soul, it was embedded?

'Ah.'

Amid the chaos, a single memory flickered.

A voice from the System, heard in the pitch-black darkness just before the Regression.

['The Absolute God, Force Majeure,' has been slain.]
[You have become the first to annihilate a being that cannot be resisted by human power.]
[Absorbing Force Majeure's 'Causality.']

Causality!

At the time, I'd dismissed it as an achievement or a reward—a title, perhaps.

But it wasn't.

Causality was the proof of existence itself.

A mass of destiny woven from cause and effect—the very soul of a god.

'So that's why the Sword Saint was terrified.'

It made sense now.

The Sword Saint of Garsia was a legend.

The soul of a hero who had upheld an entire world—its caliber was naturally extraordinary.

But Force Majeure was an absolute being beyond even that.

The caliber was incomparable.

A rabbit trying to walk into a den already occupied by a tiger—of course it had recoiled in primal dread.

A hierarchy so overwhelming it could freeze even a soul.

I stared blankly, running a hand over my chest.

The knowledge that a fragment of that thing was lodged where my heart beat sent chills through me.

'The conditions for Soul Bestowal.'

The System had laid out three conditions.

Aptitude, loyalty, and apostle status.

Let me examine each.

I was not Force Majeure's apostle.

If anything, I was the God Slayer who had killed it.

Loyalty?

It'd have to drill through negative numbers and keep going to the Earth's inner core.

Aptitude?

Unknown, but the conditions themselves didn't hold in the first place.

And yet, it was bestowed.

Stuck like gum, refusing to come off.

'......So that's what it was.'

The puzzle fell into place.

The class I'd received the moment I regressed.

[He Who Devours Disasters.]

And the title, [The Ultimate Disaster].

These weren't gifts the System had given me.

They were the manifestation of Force Majeure's own Authority, triggered when its soul entered me.

The power of the Absolute God who had ruled over the gods of Disaster and governed all Calamity.

That power, corrupted through the medium of a human body called 'Kim Jeong-seok,' had produced this class.

"Ha."

A hollow laugh.

The irony.

I'd been using a god's power to kill gods. To destroy them.

And not just any god's power—the power of the very enemy who had shattered my world. The one I hated most.

Bitterness trailed behind the laughter, but I wiped the expression clean.

'Doesn't matter.'

I clenched my fist.

Power has no morality.

It changes depending on who wields it.

Whether that thing's soul was inside me or not, whether it was a remnant or the original—none of it mattered.

What mattered was that I was in complete control of that power right now.

If anything, this was a good thing.

Now that I knew my vessel was already full, I could cut down on unnecessary trial and error.

I nodded slowly.

What remained was the Sword Saint of Garsia, and Great Sage Flunum.

Especially...... Flunum.

The Great Sage.

He had taught me so much.

About the principles of magic, and about living in a world that was falling apart.

Privately, I'd looked up to him as a mentor; outwardly, we'd bickered and gotten along like close friends.

Among the Final Five, he was the only one I could actually have a conversation with.

'......Whose Avatar was he?'

Which god had worn that kind, weathered face and deceived me?

When we despaired, how hard had they laughed inside?

When we sang of hope, how pathetic had we seemed?

They must have smiled warmly on the outside while cackling within.

And I, oblivious to all of it.......

'Damn it.'

My stomach turned.

How many had there been?

Yamamoto, Aritolt.

Were you Avatars too?

The Final Strike Force of Humanity.

The five hundred elite who had formed its core.

I couldn't even begin to guess how many 'fakes' had been mixed in.

Where truth ended and deception began, whom I should trust—none of it was clear anymore.

Had our entire struggle been a play performed on their chessboard from the very start?

How entertaining it must have been.

Watching me cough blood while desperately climbing the Tower.

How amusing it must have been.

Watching me pour every last ounce of strength into traveling the world, drawing magic circles, synthesizing the Philosopher's Stone.

Whether I could actually blow up the Earth or not—they'd probably wagered on it over drinks.

The more I thought about it, the higher my blood boiled.

Humiliation and rage intertwined and coiled around every fiber of my being.

But.

'I came back.'

I regressed.

I turned back time and, while they were off guard, walked right into their home.

Armed with the same 'god' credentials as them—no, armed as a predator that devoured them.

And so.

'Now it's my turn.'

The Game you so enjoyed? I'll turn it into a blood-soaked hell.

I'll drag you down from those lofty thrones and hurl you beneath the deepest floor.

"......Master?"

Seria called out tentatively.

She looked worried.

I'd suddenly clutched my chest and gone rigid.

"Are you all right? Your complexion......"

"I'm fine."

I waved her off.

"Better than fine, actually."

I looked at Seria.

Her transformed appearance.

The Frost Bow Demon.

Her silver hair shimmered with an ethereal glow.

"Get accustomed to the Bow Demon's power."

I said.

"That power is yours now. But it hasn't fully integrated yet. You need to make it your own before the war."

"Understood."

Seria bowed her head.

A blue gleam flickered in her eyes.

A sentiment beyond trust—closer to reverence.

She had started with suspicion, but now she followed me with worship.

I had saved her tribe, was willing to wage war against Cryos, had showered her in Nectar, and on top of all that, granted her a Hidden Class.

'Reassuring.'

A fighting force I could entrust my back to.

Seria had already been formidable.

Far more troublesome than Cryos had ever been.

A monster who had surpassed gods even without Divinity.

And now she'd claimed the soul and class of a Bow Demon—one who could evade the eyes of gods and strike any target without fail.

It would be a lie to say I wasn't looking forward to how far she'd grow.

'Two souls remain.'

I continued deliberating.

The Sword Saint of Garsia, and Great Sage Flunum.

I had to be careful.

The Secret Auction was unlikely to be a regular market.

I'd been lucky with the timing; there was no telling when the next opportunity would come.

These souls, in other words, were irreplaceable resources.

'I can't use them carelessly.'

The war against Cryos.

If I thought only of that, the right move was to convert them into combat power immediately.

I could pick a suitable candidate from the Frost Tribe elves and bestow one.

I swept my gaze across the elves in training.

Every last one of them had venom in their eyes.

But.

'Not enough.'

I shook my head.

Their vessels were too small.

Seria was a special case.

She had possessed transcendent-class talent from the start and had already awakened as my apostle.

The remaining elves were ordinary.

They couldn't handle a legendary-tier soul.

And the souls weren't resonating with any of them, either.

'Put them on hold, then.'

The Sword Saint could wait, but I wanted to find some use for Flunum.

That was when it happened.

HUMMMM!

The blue rune on my left hand surged again.

It was Flunum's soul.

He was reacting intensely.

As though craving something.

The direction pointed toward my waist.

No—toward my Inventory.

'What?'

I opened my Inventory.

The object Flunum's soul was drawn to.

I pulled it out.

"......Ah."

A sigh escaped.

A sorry-looking wooden stick.

A staff, drained of its luster and gone brittle.

The Divine Armament Heimdal had given me—The Staff of the Typhoon That Rends Flesh from Bone.

The husk left over after I'd drained every drop of Divinity and Authority from it.

'He wants to go inside this?'

It made sense.

The core was gone, but the material itself was on another level.

Crafted from the divine wood of Asgard, it was a vessel that had held divine power across the ages.

Far sturdier than any human body and infinitely more compatible with magic as a medium.

There was no more perfect home for a Great Sage's soul.

I smirked.

This actually worked out.

I'd been wondering what to do with the emptied Divine Armament.

Too wary of Heimdal's reaction to throw it away, yet a burden to keep around. A true white elephant.

But if I breathed the Great Sage's soul into it?

I stood the staff upright on the floor.

I wrapped my left hand around the glass tube.

Blue rune glyphs coiled across my palm.

Soul Bestowal.

FLASH!

The white mass of soul was released and danced through the air.

Without hesitation, it plunged into the staff.

WHOOOOSH!

A rush of violent wind.

Life returned to the dead wooden stick.

The dull surface gained a sheen, and the dried, twisted grain pulsed like golden veins.

It was nothing short of recreation.

The void left by a god's Authority was being filled by the Great Sage's vast knowledge and soul.

RUMBLE!

The staff levitated.

Its form changed.

The crude wooden staff transformed into a sleek, white staff.

At the head of the staff, where the blue gem had once sat, a white orb of soul crystallized.

Like a living eye.

It gazed at me.

Ding!

[Soul Bestowal successful.]
[The Divine Armament welcomes a new master.]
[An 'Ego' Weapon possessing a 'Will' is born.]

Just like the Archangel and Holy Sword Abriel.

Another new Ego Weapon had been born.

I stared at the newly completed staff.

Ding!

Text related to the staff appeared.

Detailed tooltips covering its options and stats.

At the same time.

'......Incredible.'

I could only marvel.

Because it was far superior to the Divine Armament Heimdal had given me—The Staff of the Typhoon That Rends Flesh from Bone.