Chapter 46

Chapter 46. Heimdal's Gift

Cold.

Frigid.

Even the air of Floor 55 seemed to have frozen in an instant.

A chill far more vicious and heavy than Cryos's blizzard had ever been.

"......"

Seria's breath stopped.

The prostrated elves looked up at me with eyes full of shock.

Even the ancient warriors who had just sworn loyalty flinched behind their helms.

A natural reaction.

Because what I'd done was insane.

Heimdal's expression hardened.

His outstretched hand froze in midair.

His features twisted into something ugly.

The gentle breeze circling him turned into razor-sharp gale in an instant.

"......What did you just say?"

A voice pitched dangerously low.

That single utterance made the ground tremble.

Killing intent.

Refuse his goodwill and you die.

I knew that.

I knew Heimdal was no god to be trifled with.

Just because he'd smiled at me, given me a Divine Armament, and showered me with overwhelming generosity—I couldn't afford to be deluded.

He was a Supreme Tier god who reigned at the very summit of Asgard.

Without a single Apostle, without any alliance or aid, he had climbed to that throne by his own power alone. A true titan.

He had forced countless gods to their knees, and anyone who displeased him was torn apart by a typhoon without mercy. A ruthless monster.

How cold and cruel he could be within this Tower—I knew better than anyone.

Refusing his offer here was tantamount to smearing mud on his pride.

It wouldn't be strange if my head left my shoulders on the spot.

And yet.

I must not forget.

I am the one who kills gods.

The one who wishes for this Tower's destruction.

Deep in my soul, a coil of venom lies coiled, waiting to annihilate them all.

Moreover, Heimdal.

There was a strong likelihood that he was the one responsible for the monstrous typhoon that had torn my parents apart.

And I was supposed to meekly crawl beneath him?

Wag my tail and call his glory my own?

Revolting.

It made me sick.

But.

Precisely because of that.

I allowed myself a smirk.

I looked straight into Heimdal's ice-cold eyes.

And then.

Slowly.

I lowered one knee to the ground.

I bowed the head I'd been holding so arrogantly high.

I took Heimdal's hand—frozen in midair—and cradled it reverently in both of mine.

"......?"

Heimdal's eyebrow twitched.

A flash of bewilderment crossed his face.

I opened my mouth in the most respectful, most desperate voice I could muster.

"The order is wrong."

"The order?"

"How could a lowly Lesser god who has barely arrived at the Tower dare 'choose' to accept the great Ruler of All Things?"

I raised my eyes to gaze up at him.

I manufactured a look of blind devotion brimming with loyalty.

"How could I possibly have the right to accept or refuse such an offer?"

I put force into my voice.

Filling it with fervor, I proclaimed clearly enough to echo across all of Floor 55.

"If it please you, I humbly beg."

Heimdal's pupils widened.

"Would you accept me as your Apostle God?"

Silence.

The storm ceased.

The killing intent dissolved.

Heimdal stared down at me blankly.

This wasn't the picture he'd envisioned.

It was a picture where I petitioned first, where I bowed my head first and begged to enter his service.

A flawless performance that filled his absolute authority and his pride to the brim.

An intense light entered Heimdal's eyes.

His lips trembled.

And then.

"......Bwahahahahahaha!"

A laugh erupted that could have brought the heavens crashing down.

He threw his head back, still gripping my hands, and howled with laughter.

"Hahahaha! You! You truly are!"

Heimdal seized my shoulders and shook me roughly.

His face was that of a man who couldn't contain his joy.

"I like you more and more! You know exactly how to pick me up and set me down!"

He knew I'd been playing him.

But he wasn't offended.

If anything, he applauded the audacity and cunning.

As though anyone fit to be his Apostle God had better possess this kind of nerve and political instinct.

"Good! Very good!"

Heimdal pulled me to my feet.

His gaze now shone with something beyond simple fondness—perfect trust and affection.

"Your earnest plea—this Heimdal gladly accepts!"

In that instant, I felt it.

The Apostle God contract.

A portion of his Authority flowing into me, and his status wrapping around me like a mantle.

I looked at Heimdal and smiled brightly.

The face of a devoted apostle.

The mask of an ambitious, eager junior god.

I was acting.

Deceiving everyone.

Blinding this vast Tower and exploiting their arrogance.

And behind that mask, I would sharpen my blade.

The sharpest, the most lethal blade.

Because this Tower was my 'Game'—my playground.

Heimdal raised his hand.

His fingertip touched his own forehead lightly.

FLASH.

A blinding light poured forth.

Something was slowly emerging from his forehead.

The pure, colossal essence of power.

The root of the typhoon that governed all things.

What crystallized at Heimdal's fingertip was small, but the density contained within it was staggering.

An energy so heavy it warped the surrounding space.

"This is my divine might."

He spoke solemnly.

"My Authority, and my proof of existence."

Heimdal reached out.

The divine might at his fingertip approached my forehead.

The moment it touched me, goosebumps erupted across my entire body.

Ding!

The familiar system chime struck my ears.

A translucent message window materialized.

[The Ruler of All Things, Heimdal, God of Typhoons, requests an Apostle God contract.]
[Do you accept?]

The Apostle God contract.

A relationship akin to master and disciple.

A covenant to borrow a superior god's power and share in their status.

There was no reason to refuse.

No—hadn't I knelt and performed that entire act precisely for this?

I nodded without hesitation.

Ding!

[Apostle God contract proceeding.]
[Determining the magnitude of 'divine might' to be bestowed.]
[Rolling the die.]

"......?"

I blinked.

A die?

Was I seriously supposed to roll a die even for receiving divine might?

I couldn't believe it.

A system that turned even a sacred ritual into a gambling table.

But the real problem was the next line.

[Die (1~???)]

'......Question marks?'

Wait. What was this?

I doubted my eyes.

I'd rolled countless dice by now.

But never once had the range been 'question marks.'

Even when I'd opened the Pandora Cube, the maximum had been clearly set at 1,000.

And now there was no upper bound?

What did it even mean for the ceiling to be unknown?

"No need to be nervous."

Heimdal spoke, apparently misreading my rigid expression.

"A number will appear according to your vessel."

With his hand still on my forehead, he smiled like a benevolent mentor.

"How much of the divine might I give you can accept—whether you fill that vessel to its limit—is entirely up to you."

That confirmed it.

Heimdal couldn't see the System's die.

The maximum value. The question marks.

Only I could see them, it seemed.

Which was why he was misunderstanding.

"Don't be disappointed if the ceiling turns out lower than you expected. The gap in caliber between you and me is one that can never be overturned, so it's only natural."

He thought I was disappointed.

Worried that the ceiling would be so low that rolling was pointless.

"Even if the number is small, you will inherit a portion of my Authority, and that alone will make you a being of an entirely different caliber from the likes of Cryos."

His tone was impossibly gentle.

Not a shred of concern about which Authority I might inherit or take.

More precisely:

"If the number reaches even 50, be satisfied. As my one and only Apostle God, you will eventually inherit all of my glory anyway."

......Meaning: whatever you take, it won't amount to much.

But.

'Ha.'

It was the exact opposite.

I wasn't disappointed.

If I had been, I wouldn't even be reacting like this.

I swallowed hard.

Even I was tense.

I had no way to gauge what number would appear.

100? 1,000? Or beyond?

The minimum was fixed at 1.

Meaning it couldn't go below 1.

Until now, the maximum had always been defined.

And I had always rolled the maximum.

The sole exception was the Pandora Cube, which had produced 1,001.

That had been the first and only time a result exceeded the limit.

There had also been the Fortune Die, which let me add a second roll to the first.

But that, too, had occurred within a clearly defined numerical range.

Nothing remotely close to 'question marks.'

A die with no ceiling.

A tool that measured the size of my vessel.

Could it be because of the Absolute God, Force Majeure, coiled in the depths of my soul?

Or because of this off-the-charts body, forged by pouring a hundred million Soul Points during character creation?

I couldn't know the reason.

But the die was already rolling.

Clatter.

A massive holographic die spun through the air.

Numbers flickered wildly.

Heimdal still had his hand on my forehead.

His expression was serene.

He was feeling his vast divine might flow into me, gauging the size of my vessel.

The smile on his face suggested he wasn't the least bit tense.

If anything, he radiated the ease of someone watching a cute child.

The die's rotation slowed gradually.

My heartbeat accelerated in tandem.

Palms slick with sweat.

At last.

Click.

The die stopped completely.

The result locked into the display.

And.

"......!"

My eyes went wide.

My breath caught.

It felt as though my heart had dropped out of my chest.

"......Hm?"

Heimdal's relaxed expression froze along with mine.

It couldn't be helped.

It was only natural.

......Because the result of the die roll defied all reason.