Chapter 76

Chapter 76. The Celestial Assembly

Reinhardt.

He possessed an appearance distinctly alien from ordinary gods.

Handsome features, yet pitch-black scales covered half his face and crept down his neck.

The aura emanating from that body -- as if mixed with dragon's blood -- was utterly overwhelming.

Hoo.

Every time he exhaled, the air inside Floor 55's golden temple rippled as though a real dragon's breath were asserting dominion.

'A god who climbed the Tower entirely on his own.'

He wasn't anyone's Apostle God, either.

Without the backing of a Supreme Tier god like Heimdal or Skadi, he'd clawed his way up to the rank of a high-ranking god by sheer force alone.

That was why his presence was incomparable to the other high-ranking Apostle Gods who'd been raised in greenhouses.

And yet such a being had gone out of his way -- swallowing his pride -- to visit Floor 55, a lesser god's territory, in person.

However.

'......The Celestial Assembly.'

A name I'd never heard before.

An assembly implied a group or faction of some kind.

I leaned back in my chair and smirked.

"I think you've come to the wrong place."

I jerked my chin at the air.

"I'm already Heimdal's Apostle God. An Apostle God joining a private group without permission is out of the question."

If Heimdal caught wind of it, my head might roll.

But Reinhardt didn't flinch.

If anything, his serpentine, slit pupils glinted with interest.

"Don't worry."

He growled low.

"The Celestial Assembly isn't a faction of gods. It's a collective of Avatars."

Hm?

A collective of Avatars?

"The Twelve Sovereign Gods and countless other powerhouses of the Tower are scrambling to begin the Game on World No. 400 -- Earth."

Reinhardt clenched his fist.

"What do you suppose that means? It means a supreme treasure sleeps there, one that even the Twelve Sovereign Gods would covet."

The scaled tendons of his neck rippled.

"Can you still call this a Game? This is war."

War.

I agreed.

I'd been thinking the exact same thing.

"So you want to join forces?"

"Exactly. Before a monumental variable like this, we too must unite to survive and to seize."

I narrowed my brow.

"Anonymity is the foundation of being an Avatar. And you want to band together and form an Avatar collective? If it's exposed, I doubt it ends well."

One whistleblower and a massacre could begin.

Good for me in one scenario, but equally poisonous in another.

"That, too, need not concern you."

Reinhardt produced a small, jet-black magic stone from within his robes and placed it on the table.

"We're not asking anyone to reveal their Avatar's identity directly. It's a strictly compartmentalized cell structure. Information exchange in a virtual space, and temporary coordination only when a massive trial descends. That's the primary purpose."

He fixed me with an unwavering stare.

"Currently, multiple high-ranking gods and a considerable number of prominent Supreme Tier gods are members of the Celestial Assembly."

I scoffed.

"And you'd let a mere lesser god like me into such an illustrious circle?"

"That's exactly why you're the last."

I see.

'Not a bad offer.'

I ran the numbers in my head.

What was in this for me?

How was anonymity maintained?

"How is anonymity preserved? Voice or Mana signatures alone could give someone away."

"Members are assigned sequential numbers."

Reinhardt pointed to the magic stone on the table.

"Upon entering the virtual conference space, all forms and voices are altered. Members address each other only by number. If you join, your assigned number would be '33.'"

Thirty-three.

"You're the lowest-ranking member, hence the last to be approached and the last number assigned."

Blunt disregard, but not incorrect.

I propped my chin and studied Reinhardt.

"Then what's your number?"

"I'm '10.'"

......Ten.

For an instant, I nearly burst out laughing.

Reinhardt.

This deranged monster, the nightmare of humanity's strike force -- the Dragon Emperor -- and he's only number 10?

Then what manner of horrors occupied numbers 1 through 9?

Supreme Tier gods, perhaps even Avatars of the Twelve Sovereign Gods, could be among them.

'Bigger than I thought.'

This group's scale wasn't small.

No -- it was quite possibly one of the largest Avatar organizations in the Tower.

A secret society anchored by high-ranking and Supreme Tier gods.

The fact that they'd singled me out as their final member meant they rated my potential and possibilities quite highly.

'There's absolutely no reason to refuse.'

At the very least, I'd be able to keep tabs on their movements.

Information.

If I could learn in advance about upcoming Episodes and the gods' schemes, there was no more powerful weapon.

I picked up the magic stone.

"Fine. I'm in."

At my answer, a satisfied smile spread across Reinhardt's lips.

"An excellent choice."

He rose from his seat.

"A summons will come through that stone before long. Answer the signal and channel your Mana into it, and you'll safely enter the virtual conference space."

The explanation was finished.

He turned and headed for the door.

"Is that all?"

When I asked, Reinhardt paused.

Then he turned back to face me.

In place of his usual cold, imposing gaze, there was a strangely hesitant air.

"......I have one favor to ask."

A favor?

A high-ranking god, asking a lesser god for a favor.

"What is it?"

"Could I...... see Angragon? Just once."

Ah.

I'd momentarily forgotten.

That this creature's epithet was 'Dragon Emperor.'

A being who carried dragon blood, who commanded one of Asgard's most powerful dragon legions.

He was a notorious 'dragon enthusiast' and a fanatical collector.

Hearing the rumor that a Dragon of Catastrophe -- one of the primordial calamities -- had been summoned on Floor 1, he must have been beside himself.

Dying to see it with his own eyes.

I smirked and snapped my fingers.

"Come out, Angragon."

Flap. Flap-flap.

From inside the sealed room came the heavy sound of wingbeats.

Angragon, having gorged on the World Tree's demonic energy and shot through a growth spurt into the 'toddler stage,' ambled out.

A frame the size of a medium dog.

Pitch-black scales and the ferocious aura of a primordial calamity pouring from its body.

Grrrr.......

Angragon eyed Reinhardt -- an unfamiliar intruder -- and let out a low, wary growl.

And then.

"......Ah, aah."

What's with this guy?

Reinhardt's reaction was a sight to behold.

The stiff, overbearing Dragon Emperor from moments ago had vanished without a trace.

His eyes were shaking -- violently, uncontrollably.

He sucked in a sharp breath, both hands trembling.

Like a zealot who'd finally laid eyes on the ultimate holy relic he'd spent his entire life searching for.

"Magnificent......"

He murmured in a voice drenched with rapture.

"What a perfect, ferocious creation. The primordial essence is fully alive and breathing......!"

He unconsciously took a step toward Angragon.

SNAP!

But the moment Angragon bared its fangs and snarled, Reinhardt flinched and stumbled backward.

"Easy, easy. Settle down."

I stroked Angragon's head and calmed it.

Reinhardt was still entranced, desperately trying to commit every last scale to memory.

"......I envy you."

Reinhardt let out a heartfelt sigh.

He stood rooted to the spot for a long while before clearing his throat and turning to me.

"Rag."

His eyes burned red with greed.

"Sell it to me."

A blunt offer.

"I'll give you five million Nectar."

A considerable sum.

But I snorted.

"No."

Not a second's hesitation.

"This one's not for sale."

At my answer, Reinhardt's brow furrowed.

Bitter disappointment written all over his face.

He locked his lovesick -- no, obscenely obsessive -- eyes on Angragon again.

"Haah......"

A deep sigh.

'What's with this guy?'

He'd gone past dragon enthusiast territory.

This was borderline fanatical obsession.

"Are you sure?"

Reinhardt clung on, unable to let go.

"If you ever change your mind, please let me know."

His voice quavered with yearning.

"If you want, I'll trade you ten of my legion's most prized adult dragons on the spot -- forget the Nectar."

Ten adult dragons.

Enough to raze an entire Floor of the Tower.

But compared to Angragon's potential, that offer didn't reach its toenails.

"Not interested."

I cut him off flat.

"Now leave. You're scaring the kid."

At my words, Reinhardt bit his lip hard.

"......Understood. I'll go."

He turned away.

But his gaze stayed riveted on Angragon to the very last, shuffling backward toward the door.

Even through the final sliver of the closing gap, his bloodshot eyes swept over Angragon with a thick, lingering hunger.

BANG.

The door shut.

Kyaah.......

Angragon shuddered at the maniacal fixation and burrowed between my legs.

As if it had just seen a creep, it curled its tail tight against my thigh and clung close.

Pat, pat.

I tapped the beast's back shell and clicked my tongue.

WOOOONG.

Before long, I felt the ripple of space warping just outside the sealed room.

Reinhardt had taken the gate and vanished completely.

"All kinds out there."

Unbelievable.

But I quickly shelved the idle thoughts.

I picked up the jet-black magic stone sitting on the desk.

'The Celestial Assembly.'

The virtual conference communicator Reinhardt had left behind.

A secret society like this.

There were probably others -- similar Avatar collectives sprouting like mushrooms across Earth's stage.

'Yamamoto.'

An Avatar of the God of War. Sovereign God proxies like him could well be embedded in these circles, concealing their identities.

And beyond that.

'Aritolt.'

Aritolt, along with other members of the strike force whose true natures I hadn't yet confirmed.

Through a back-channel network like this, I might find opportunities to learn far more about their real identities and movements.

'Besides.'

I didn't think any organization larger or more powerful than the Celestial Assembly would come knocking for me.

A secret society anchored by high-ranking and Supreme Tier gods.

Simply having a foot in the door would serve as the most reliable eyes and ears for reading Earth's shifting tides.

Still.

'A dilemma.'

I turned the magic stone in my fingers, one thing nagging at me.

Whether to tell Heimdal about this or not.

I was Heimdal's Apostle God.

Under his protection, I'd claimed Floor 55.

By the book, joining a private group should be reported to one's master.

But.

'I don't need to report every last detail about my Avatar.'

Boundaries had to be drawn.

In Asgard, my identity was 'Rag.' On Earth, my identity was 'Kim Jeong-seok (NONAME).'

If I carelessly told Heimdal about the Celestial Assembly, he might take an unhealthy interest in my Avatar.

Worst case, a situation could arise where he pressured me to reveal my Avatar's identity.

'I'll keep it secret.'

I slid the magic stone deep into my Inventory.

To Heimdal, I'd show nothing but the face of Floor 55's Apostle God.

The hunt on Earth was mine and mine alone.

***

Heimdal gazed up at the empty sky and twisted the corner of his mouth.

'The Game.'

The Twelve Sovereign Gods' formal declaration of entry.

With World No. 400 -- Earth -- upgraded to A-grade, every eye in the Tower was trained on it.

'The war begins.'

A free-for-all where real gods don shells and claw at each other's throats on a tiny patch of land.

"I won't be left behind."

Fierce ambition blazed in Heimdal's eyes.

But he had no intention whatsoever of rallying a faction or colluding with other gods.

'I don't walk with anyone.'

He was the Ruler of All Things.

As always, he would climb the Tower alone.

All the way to the end, without anyone's help, he would tread up to that dizzying summit.

To that absolute position where no one stood above him.

Hsssh.

Heimdal sank deep into his throne.

He closed his eyes.

He let his consciousness settle, then began extending his true body's Divine Power downward, toward the lower world.

His lips barely moved.

"Login."

Then.

DING!

[The God of Typhoons, Heimdal, has logged in to World No. 400 (Earth).]

[Loading saved Avatar data.]

[Data synchronization complete.]

[Logging in as Avatar: 'Aritolt'.]