Chapter 5

Chapter 5.

A dragon egg.

Fifteen Fragments of the Broken Golden Rule.

An incredible reward.

One hour per fragment meant I could wield Rag's full power for a total of fifteen hours.

More than enough starting capital.

But something else had seized my attention.

'Lesser Earthquake God, Kartal.'

I remembered that name vividly.

In the past, during the era when I was climbing the tower.

It was the name of the horrific monster I'd faced on the 34th floor.

The one who had trampled and devoured countless comrades.

"......Now I'm certain."

Suspicion had crystallized into conviction.

The monsters of the tower.

Those damned gods had created 'characters' on the game board called Earth.

And wearing human masks, they were ravaging humanity and amusing themselves.

My lips twisted.

They pretended to be hunters, but the reality was different.

The real hunter was me.

Because I'd become the 'predator' that devours them.

I'd just proved it.

Kill the avatar on Earth, and the main body in Asgard is annihilated too.

I could even claim their unique authorities as my own.

'He Who Devours Disasters.'

This power existed to drive them to extinction.

Thoughts chained together endlessly.

Memories of the past.

Those who'd been called 'heroes' in a world hurtling toward ruin.

'I always knew something was off.'

People who appeared out of nowhere one day, flaunting overwhelming force.

Trash who led humanity under the guise of saviors, only to herd everyone into a death trap at the critical moment.

Hadn't a significant number of them been 'avatars' of those gods?

They incited fear by triggering disasters.

They reaped worship by pretending to resolve those disasters.

And in the end, they cackled as they delivered despair.

A thought suddenly crossed my mind.

'What if.'

The final strike force that had climbed to the very end of the tower with me.

Sword Emperor Aritolt.

Great Sage Flunum.

Battle Emperor Yamamoto.

And Spirit Monarch Park Hayan.

Had any of them been a god's avatar in disguise?

I couldn't know.

But I couldn't rule out the possibility.

If so, how hard had they laughed while watching me struggle?

"......Doesn't matter."

I clenched my fist.

I didn't have time to waste shaking with the sting of betrayal.

What mattered was what came next.

HUMMM.

I opened my right palm.

The golden rune pulsed with a soft glow.

This hand doesn't lie.

It sniffs out the source of disasters — the rotten stench of the gods — with uncanny precision.

Whether they're playing hero or lying low.

'I just need to hunt them down and devour every last one.'

I resolved to become the true hunter.

In Asgard — the gods of the tower.

On Earth — the avatars they'd created.

Finding the avatars was simple.

I remembered the timing and locations of the major disasters well enough.

Their avatars would inevitably be there.

The two worlds were complementary for me.

It wasn't just about hunting — I could reap maximum gains from both sides and grow infinitely.

In other words.

'......I conquer the tower.'

This time, no matter what.

I would conquer the tower completely.

***

March 14, 2026.

The world would come to name this day 'the Great Cataclysm.'

There were no omens.

There was no warning.

It began with a single fragment of ordinary life crumbling apart.

— This is a breaking news alert! A magnitude 7 earthquake has struck the heart of Gangnam, Seoul!

— A massive hole has opened in the sky above New York's Times Square! Unidentified monsters are pouring out!

— Tokyo is sinking! A tsunami has engulfed the city center!

— Paris, London, Beijing...... simultaneous disasters erupting across the globe!

The anchors' voices trembled.

The scenery beyond the screens was hell incarnate.

Collapsed skyscrapers.

Shattered earth.

And squeezing through those cracks — entities of aberrant form.

"AAAARGH!"

"S-save us! Monsters!"

"Mommy! Mommy!"

Screams and wails blanketed the world.

Armies mobilized and rained missiles, but nothing worked.

Modern weaponry couldn't even pierce their hides.

Humanity was powerless.

Despair spread like a plague.

That was when it happened.

DING!

A clear chime resonated in the ears of every human being on Earth.

['System' activating.]

[Mana has been unlocked.]

[Humans with latent 'talent' will awaken.]

Blue message windows floated in the air.

Flames erupted from someone's hands.

Someone's body hardened like steel.

Someone rode the wind and soared through the sky.

'The awakened.'

The moment superhumans were born.

KABOOOOM!

A shelter in Seoul.

The instant a house-sized wolf-shaped demonic beast lunged at a child.

A young man smashed the wolf's skull with a flame-wreathed fist.

"......D-did he kill it?"

"A person killed a monster with his bare hands?"

Cameras broadcast the scene live.

The whole world witnessed that miracle.

Fear quickly turned to wonder.

People cheered.

They praised them.

"A hero!"

"God hasn't abandoned us!"

"Heroes have appeared!"

The media scrambled to spotlight the awakened.

The dawn of a new era.

Headlines trumpeted the arrival of superhumans who would save mankind.

But no one knew.

What truth lurked behind those dazzling heroes.

Among them were genuine human awakened, yes.

But many of those who shone the brightest, fought the hardest, and rose to fame the fastest.

Were in fact 'seeds of disaster' destined to drive humanity to ruin.

They were smiling.

Amid the cheers.

Hidden behind the sweet title of savior.

Looking down at the toys dancing on the game board they'd laid out themselves.

And so, the world changed.

***

The winds of change hadn't blown on Earth alone.

The land of the gods, Asgard.

And at its center, the 'Tower of God.'

Even that seemingly eternal, absolute space had begun to crack.

HUMMM!

The entire tower vibrated with a low hum.

Ripples disturbed the once-tranquil garden of the gods.

The gods, who'd been chatting idly or spectating the destruction of the lower world, turned their gazes skyward.

Because a red message — one that should never appear — had materialized before their eyes.

DING!

[Bearing grave tidings.]

[The master of the tower's 34th floor, 'Lesser Earthquake God Kartal,' has been slain.]

[His existence has been completely erased from Asgard.]

Silence.

The gods doubted their own eyes.

"......Kartal is dead."

"Who on earth could have killed Kartal?"

Murmurs spread like waves.

Gods do not die.

They might erode with time, but being slain by another was extraordinarily rare.

And a mid-tier god who held the 34th floor, at that!

But the system gave them no time for sentiment.

[The hierarchy will be adjusted to fill the vacancy on floor 34.]

[The master of floor 33 is promoted to floor 34.]

[The master of floor 32 is promoted to floor 33.]

.......

[The master of floor 1 is promoted to floor 2.]

A chain of promotions cascaded like dominoes.

Gods who'd lingered on the floors below were forcibly pushed up one step.

And finally.

[Floor 1 is vacant.]

[Ready to receive a new god.]

A vacancy had opened at the very bottom — floor 1.

This meant an opportunity had arisen for a new 'seed' to ascend to godhood.

Under normal circumstances, it would have been cause for celebration.

But the gods' expressions were frozen.

Because the unanswered questions were stoking fear.

"I can't make sense of this."

Someone broke the silence.

"Wasn't Kartal participating in the current 'Earth game'?"

"He was. He definitely created an avatar and went down."

"Then why was his main body destroyed?"

A question that struck the heart of the matter.

An avatar was exactly that — a shell.

Nothing more than a terminal for accessing the game board called Earth.

Even if the avatar was destroyed on Earth, the main body in Asgard should suffer only minor mana loss and remain perfectly intact.

That was the rule of the 'safe game' they'd designed.

A god had been annihilated mid-game.

Slain without a single omen.

"An investigation is needed."

"We must determine the cause."

The council assembled an investigation team.

And so, while some grappled with alarm and puzzlement over this incident.

Others were elsewhere, weeping tears of joy and shouting three cheers.

***

The basement of the tower.

That dank, humid place was called the 'waiting room.'

But in truth, it was no different from a holding pen.

A place teeming with thousands upon thousands of 'seeds.'

They called themselves children of god, but reality was merciless.

They were nothing more than a pack of hyenas waiting for a vacancy.

"YEAAAAH!"

"Finally! A spot finally opened up!"

A sudden eruption of cheers in the waiting room.

Some embraced and danced, others pounded the floor and wept with overwhelming emotion.

The reason was singular.

The system message from moments ago had been shared with them as well.

[Floor 1 is vacant.]

[Ready to receive a new god.]

This single line carried absolute weight.

The tower's structure was like a pyramid.

Spaces narrowed toward the top, and the bottom was sealed shut.

Only when the master of floor 1 was promoted or destroyed could one of the seeds below seize that position.

"How long has it been?"

"I can't even remember. Three hundred years? No, it must've been five hundred."

Gods were beings of near-immortality.

A vacancy was practically a miracle.

That miracle had occurred today.

Sparks flew in the seeds' eyes.

"This time it's my turn."

"Don't make me laugh. By waiting order, I'm ahead of you!"

"Why not just prove it with ability?"

Killing intent began to permeate the air.

The competition had effectively already begun.

That was when someone spoke up abruptly.

"By the way...... have you heard the rumor?"

"Rumor?"

"The one about how Lord Heimdal personally brought in some guy."

All eyes turned to him.

It was the hottest piece of gossip to sweep through the basement recently.

Heimdal, the God of Typhoons.

The notoriously eccentric god had personally retrieved a seed from outside Asgard.

"Oh, that 'parachute'?"

"Yeah. They said he brought him in, but the guy still hasn't entered the tower."

"Probably ran away. Got scared."

The seeds snickered.

"I thought he must be something special since Heimdal brought him personally."

"Obviously just a coward. Tsk, tsk."

They were relieved.

They thought a powerful competitor had been taken out of the equation.

It was also mockery laced with jealousy and envy toward someone who'd received a privilege they hadn't.

"Forget about it. If he doesn't show, that's just better for us, right?"

"Exactly. The new god is going to be one of us!"

Just as the mood was building again.

RRRRRUMBLE!

A thunderous boom shook the entire basement.

Every seed's gaze snapped to a single point.

The entrance to the tower.

The massive bronze door — sealed so tightly it seemed it would never open — was slowly creaking apart.

SCREEEEEEAK!

The skin-crawling sound of ancient metal grinding.

The cheering seeds fell silent.

Quiet descended.

Through the gap of the opening doors, blinding light poured in.

And then.

THUD. THUD.

Silhouetted against that light, a man walked in.

Golden hair.

A stride so bold it bordered on arrogant.

An attitude that said the stares around him were beneath his notice.

He stopped and raised his head, slowly scanning the seeds gathered below.

An indifferent gaze — as if looking at insects.

"......Who are you?"

Someone asked in a trembling voice.

The man didn't answer.

He simply waved his hand.

They knew it instinctively.

The man from the rumors.

The 'parachute' Heimdal had brought in!

A grin.

"Good to meet you. I'm 'Rag.'"

......That bastard was the one.