Chapter 65

Chapter 65. The Principality

The Banquet of the Gods.

The day the Supreme Tier gods gather in one place.

The grandest, most lavish, and most prestigious event in Asgard.

But the God of Typhoons, Heimdal, had never cared much for the Banquet.

Because it was boring.

A Banquet was, in the end, nothing more than a stage for shallow boasting.

Trotting out some competent new Apostle God and showing off.

Exaggerating one's accomplishments and trumpeting them.

Flaunting the size of one's faction, the loyalty of one's underlings -- a waste of time.

So Heimdal had always skipped them.

On the rare occasions he did attend, he'd slouch in a corner, knock back some Nectar, and leave.

The gods' fake smiles and political maneuvering didn't suit the rough nature of a typhoon.

But.

This Banquet was different.

For the first time in millennia, his chest beat with a heavy thud.

The reason was one.

'Rag.'

The hottest piece of gossip in the Tower of God right now.

The absurd creature who'd started with a Disaster Aptitude of zero and rocketed straight up to Floor 55.

The bizarre monster who smashed common sense and mocked natural law.

Had become his Apostle God.

Heimdal intended to formally proclaim it before everyone at this Banquet.

That Rag had become his full-fledged Apostle God.

He planned to solidify that bond for all the world to see.

At the same time, it was a warning.

-I hold him in my favor. Don't even think about touching him.

Justification was plentiful.

The war with Cryos.

Rag had claimed an overwhelming victory against Skadi's vassal god.

'The look on that wench Skadi's twisted face should be a treat.'

The Queen of Winter, having tasted defeat's bitterness.

Just imagining her crumpled expression was enough to lift the corners of Heimdal's mouth.

Walking through those arrogant gods with his Apostle God Rag at his side.

The mere thought was electrifying and exhilarating.

So he'd descended to Floor 55 in high spirits.

He'd personally made the trip to bring the lad to the Banquet.

He'd landed on the training ground in a great gale, opened his mouth with an imposing air.

-My Apostle God, Rag, hear me. We must attend the Banquet of the Gods, so prepare your......

But.

Heimdal couldn't finish the sentence.

His mouth hung half-open, frozen.

His gaze was nailed to a single point and wouldn't come unstuck.

"......A Principality?"

Heimdal stared blankly at the sword in Rag's hand.

The Holy Sword, still radiating a pillar of light from its freshly completed evolution.

Abriel.

Heimdal's eyes shook violently.

'That's impossible.'

The evolution of a Holy Sword is no ordinary feat.

An Archangel.

Originally, an Archangel serves as a kind of seal, or takes the role of a Holy Sword.

It chooses a noble wielder and lends its power, or is used to suppress wicked beings like Mad Gods.

That alone makes it a Sacred Relic that lesser gods wouldn't dare even look upon.

But.

From the rank of Principality onward, the very nature changes.

A being of the Seventh Order among the nine celestial ranks.

A symbol of authority that guards the rulers of the mortal world and enforces grand justice.

This was a hallowed artifact that even upper-tier gods couldn't easily obtain.

It couldn't be created on demand, nor bought by pouring in Nectar.

Because the conditions for evolution were excruciatingly strict.

Evolution to Principality requires two conditions to be perfectly met.

First, the wielder must have cut down a great evil.

Second, the wielder must be truly 'noble of heart.'

A great evil. A being of formidable demonic power must be slain.

And not just once. Countless times.

Even most lesser and mid-tier gods can't endure this process.

And the second condition?

To be truly noble means being 'without stain' -- an equivalent of purity itself.

To be supremely sublime and exalted.

'Rag, that creature is truly noble?'

......He'd always exceeded expectations, but still.

No matter how he thought about it, 'noble' was a stretch.

And yet the Holy Sword had evolved.

Archangel Abriel had genuinely recognized that ferocious, inscrutable monster as 'truly noble of heart.'

Heimdal dragged a broad palm down his face.

He'd braced himself and descended with all proper dignity, and yet every single time he met this creature, it ground his common sense to powder.

But.

A strange smile began to spread across Heimdal's lips.

***

"Hahahahahaha!"

Heimdal burst into wild laughter.

'What's with this guy?'

Had he suddenly lost it?

I subtly retreated a step.

Turan likewise twitched, greatsword in hand, as if to shield me.

But Heimdal paid no mind.

He strode over.

And then.

GRAB!

"......?!"

The massive man swept me up in a bear hug.

The grip was strong enough to stop my breathing.

"That's my Apostle God!"

Heimdal pounded my back and bellowed with delight.

It rattled my bones.

"A promotion to Principality! Magnificent, Rag! Absolutely magnificent!"

A voice overflowing with uncontainable joy.

From the looks of it, all he could see was Abriel in my hand.

I forcibly pushed Heimdal away.

"I can't breathe."

"Kahaha! Splendid! You've made me puff up my chest once again!"

An utterly baffling reaction.

Was the evolution of one Holy Sword really something to celebrate this much?

I rubbed my chin and studied him.

"Anyway, what were you saying earlier?"

"Hm?"

"You mentioned a Banquet? What exactly is that?"

At my question, Heimdal reined in his laughter.

But the corners of his eyes still crinkled with amusement.

He cleared his throat and affected a dignified air.

"Ah, right. You wouldn't know how the Tower of God works yet."

Heimdal clasped his hands behind his back.

"The Banquet is a festival where the most influential gods of this Asgard gather."

A festival.

If the attendees were the most influential gods, that meant at minimum high-ranking gods or the rulers of the Supreme Tier.

"In plain terms, it's a venue where the Tower's power players gather to flaunt their strength and cultivate their networks."

"Flaunt?"

"That's right. A place where everyone's busy exaggerating their achievements and showing off."

His eyes flicked to Abriel in my hand.

"Normally I've no interest in such trifling affairs. But this time the circumstances are different, wouldn't you say?"

Grin.

Heimdal's mouth split wide.

"Now that you've become my Apostle God, I intend to formally proclaim it by bringing you to that gathering."

A mischievous gleam flashed through his eyes.

"And a Principality's blade, no less. Haha, the thought of seeing Skadi and the rest pop their eyeballs out is already thrilling."

He's dying to show off.

Inwardly I smirked.

But outwardly, I frowned.

"If it's a Banquet, what should I prepare?"

"Prepare?"

Heimdal waved his hand.

"You need nothing. Everything for the Banquet has already been perfectly arranged by this Heimdal."

He declared with a lofty air.

"All you need to do is show up. Come and stand at my side."

"Do I have to go?"

At my question, Heimdal's expression turned serious.

He nodded.

"You absolutely must."

In a resolute tone, he continued.

"This isn't a casual festival. You've been shaking the Tower's history. You've climbed too fast, too high."

"......"

"The Tower is crawling with those who envy and suspect you. Even if they don't strike directly...... for instance, there'll be those who try to use Abdulla to obstruct you."

Investigation Chief Abdulla.

The man who'd recently suspected me -- or rather, the 'Mad God' -- as the culprit behind the serial killing of lesser gods, and had tried to tighten the noose around my neck.

"If you don't show your face at this Banquet, the voices slandering and doubting you will only grow louder."

Heimdal gripped my shoulder firmly once more.

"But if you stand proudly at my side and prove that you are my rightful Apostle God."

His gaze sharpened.

"No one will dare bark at you."

I see.

It made sense.

This was a gathering I couldn't afford to miss.

In a way, it was also Heimdal's political maneuver to protect me.

Sheltering me under his authority to shield me from the Tower's countless checks and suspicions.

Of course, behind that lay his shallow vanity -- wanting to parade me and elevate his own status.

'Not a bad proposition.'

I was curious myself.

The Banquet.

A gathering attended only by Supreme Tier gods and above.

A golden opportunity to lay eyes, for the very first time, on the true rulers of Asgard -- the ringleaders who'd destroyed our world.

You have to know your enemy to cut their throat.

'It could be dangerous.'

Walking straight into the heart of the enemy's lair.

What if my identity is exposed, or I'm hit with an unexpected attack?

'......So what?'

In the one-in-a-million scenario that things go south.

If the worst case comes to pass and I'm cornered, facing death, surrounded by gods.

If the situation deteriorates beyond Heimdal's ability to intervene.

'Then I'll just summon Adun.'

Summoning Adun would settle it.

The true body of an Astral Sovereign, no less.

Even Supreme Tier gods wouldn't dare make a careless move.

I nodded.

"Understood."

Heimdal smiled with satisfaction.

"Good. I'll come again at this time tomorrow. Have your preparations in order by then."

WHOOOOSH--!

With a fierce gale, Heimdal vanished into the sky.

Silence returned to where he'd stood.

"M-Master."

Seria, who'd been watching from behind, approached.

Her face was full of worry.

"Are you truly planning to go? It could be dangerous."

Turan, leaning on his greatsword, added in a grave voice.

"My lord. Allow us to escort you. We can at least stand guard outside the Banquet hall."

"No need."

I refused without hesitation.

"You must protect Floor 55. All the more carefully while I'm away."

This was my debut as an Apostle God.

If I showed weakness or dragged a parade of bodyguards along, I'd only be looked down upon.

Going alone was the right call.

I rubbed my chin.

Tomorrow's Banquet.

Something told me I might see a very familiar face there.

'Yamamoto.'

He'd been drawing on his true body's blessing and gulping Nectar like water.

He had to be a god who essentially ruled the Tower.

Heimdal said the Banquet was where the most influential gods gathered.

There was a chance that one was attending too.

No -- he would be there without a doubt.

Beyond that, I might also pick up critical information related to Earth and the Avatars.

......This golden opportunity couldn't be missed.

***

The next day.

The moment I followed Heimdal and set foot in the Garden of the Gods, where the Banquet was being held.

"Oh?"

"Is that the rumored 'Rag'?"

"Heimdal's Apostle God, is it?"

......Every last god turned their attention to me.