Chapter 207
Chapter 207
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 207
Chapter Title: Tower of the Gods (8)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The Voracious Devourer of Distant Cosmos, Ialdagols!
This was the true name of the master whom the Black Evil God served.
It was a name he'd never heard before, but judging by the epithet alone, it was clearly no ordinary being.
A being akin to a god—or perhaps a god itself.
That must be why it could even leave behind a Stigma.
'A statue?'
However, the form of the Stigma was utterly unlike what he'd imagined.
It was a statue of the monster presumed to be Ialdagols.
A cylindrical body, no eyes, and a grotesquely massive maw.
Its sharply detailed fangs gave it an intensely grotesque impression.
He grasped the statue floating in midair.
A description of the Stigma immediately appeared before his eyes.
📛 Name:Stigma of Ialdagols
📜 Description:The Stigma of Ialdagols, the Voracious Devourer who dominated distant cosmos. He devoured countless divinities across the universe, thereby claiming godhood for himself. He then created his follower, the 'Black Evil God,' and scattered them across the cosmos to exert absolute influence. Though his universe's destruction has greatly weakened that influence in the present day, legend holds that wherever his Stigma remains, the mighty powers of the Devourer can still be wielded.
🔸 Unique Options:
(1) Territories where the Stigma is installed receive Ialdagols's protection.
(2) The size of the protected territory can be set; narrower territories receive stronger protection.
(3) 'Abyss' forces attempting forced invasion of protected territories are devoured by the power of gluttony.
(4) Ialdagols's followers occasionally visit territories where the Stigma is installed.
Indeed.
He nodded as he reviewed the Stigma's usage.
'It's a kind of barrier.'
Of course, it was on a whole different level from ordinary barriers.
To devour invading Abyss forces outright.
It resembled the Divine Beast's ability in some ways, but not entirely.
The Divine Beast devoured Abyss that had already breached.
In contrast, Ialdagols's Stigma blocked them preemptively.
It rendered forced breaches impossible altogether.
'I need to think carefully about where to install the Stigma.'
The smaller the protected land, the stronger the power; the larger, the weaker the protection.
For blocking unwanted invasions.
Installing it solely on his home would create a perfect safe haven for a peaceful daily life.
He could even cover all of South Korea.
Even if the protection weakened with greater area, low-grade Creator Abysses—designed to target the weak from the start—were numerous anyway.
Just blocking those could save tens or hundreds of millions of lives.
Or he could install it in 'Valhalla' to prevent ragtag demons or raiders from invading.
But.
'Ialdagols's followers will visit... Does that mean the Black Evil God and its ilk?'
This part gave him pause.
If the Black Evil God and its horde—devotees of Ialdagols—visited, that place could become a den of evil.
'Hm?'
It was then.
He'd been feeling a persistent gaze for a while now.
It was Ataraxia.
'Why's she staring like that?'
...Like a puppy begging for praise, perhaps.
Too focused on the Stigma to notice before, but he'd just demonstrated the power to obliterate a full-fledged Black Evil God in one go.
Whoosh!
Black lava bubbled furiously across the surrounding area.
Hell of Despair.
An immeasurable surge of mana had transformed the entire space into a hellscape.
And this black lava was merely the remnants left after the Black Evil God was annihilated.
"Impressive."
Park Chan-woo praised Ataraxia's magic for what it was.
It truly was superb magic.
The harmonious blend of the Despair Clan's Word of Power and Ataraxia's supreme magic was breathtakingly beautiful.
The flow, density, and nature of the mana were all controlled and adjusted with artistic precision.
Even among the dragonkin he'd seen, her mastery was top-tier.
As an enemy, few could be more terrifying.
"Ah...!!"
Ataraxia shuddered violently in that instant.
'Lord Sepiro praised me!'
She mistook it for Dragon God Sepiro praising her personally, not her magic.
She'd never seen or heard of Sepiro praising anyone.
What greater honor could there be?
Overwhelmed with emotion she could scarcely contain, Ataraxia hurriedly bowed her head.
"I-It's an honor!!"
She barely managed with a trembling voice.
It was something to boast about to her kin.
No, they wouldn't believe it even if she told them.
But she'd heard it clearly.
Ataraxia, you are impressive!
A bit of embellishment, but it amounted to the same thing.
"Time to head to the next floor."
"Yes! I receive the will of the great one!"
Park Chan-woo shrugged.
Ataraxia's reaction was a tad over the top, but it meant she followed him with utter sincerity.
Moreover, this tower stretched at least to the 99th floor—and possibly beyond.
With the mightiest dragonkin at his side, he couldn't stop at a mere 10th floor.
Upon reaching the 11th floor, the atmosphere shifted dramatically.
Floors 1 through 9 had been labyrinthine zones, but now a vast plain stretched before them.
And in its center.
Two entities identical to Ataraxia and Park Chan-woo appeared.
'Not doppelgangers.'
This wasn't comparable to the 'clones' used by doppelgangers.
Clones had limits.
A mere doppelganger couldn't replicate dragonkin.
Step.
Ataraxia stepped forward.
The phantasm mirrored her exactly.
"Flames of Despair, burn the foe."
"Flames of Despair, burn the foe."
Fwoosh!
Kaboom!
Identical massive fireballs formed and collided.
They exploded with a deafening roar.
No... it wasn't mere explosion.
They truly canceled each other out.
The same magic, same mana expenditure.
Even their mastery of magic was identical.
In other words.
"...It's mimicking my actions."
"...It's mimicking my actions."
Yes.
This 'Ancient Phantasm' was a mirror.
To advance, he had to defeat himself.
Ataraxia furrowed her brow.
'How dare it impersonate dragonkin—and the great one's form?'
She was more infuriated by its mimicry of the great one than herself.
But no matter how it tried, there would be limits.
"Storm of Despair, rage wildly."
"Storm of Despair, rage wildly."
"Lightning of Despair, pierce the foe."
"Lightning of Despair, pierce the foe."
Kaboom!
Crash! Rumble!
Magic poured ceaselessly.
Yet none inflicted damage on the other.
They merely drained mana endlessly.
"Huff...! Huff!"
"Huff...! Huff!"
Ataraxia breathed raggedly.
Her face was etched with frustration.
The phantasm was perfectly identical to her.
Barring suicide, victory seemed impossible.
"...Great one. Permit me to assume my true draconic form."
But it couldn't mimic her dragon form perfectly.
Yet Park Chan-woo shook his head.
"This trial isn't meant to be cleared so simply."
If she transformed, so would the phantasm.
A draw at best—no true win.
But challengers had reached the 13th floor, so it wasn't impossible.
It must test the ability to introduce variables.
Do something impossible to mimic.
Park Chan-woo pulled out a 'Platinum Box'.
The Ancient Phantasm did the same.
"Open."
"Open."
Pop!
Smoke burst from both boxes.
But the results differed starkly.
He got the 'Canal Sword'; the phantasm's box yielded an 'Ash Bow'.
It was only natural.
No item in the Abyss was as profoundly random as boxes.
Even identical boxes produced different outcomes.
"Ah...!"
Ataraxia, watching, widened her eyes in awe.
Just produce an unmimicably random result.
She hadn't even conceived of using a box for a variable.
'As expected of the great Sepiro!'
Thinking only he could conceive such brilliance.
Step. Step.
Park Chan-woo advanced slowly toward the phantasm, Canal Sword in hand.
Upon closing to melee range.
Slash!
He cleaved down at the phantasm.
It swung its 'Ash Bow' in response, but a bow was good only for stinging.
The slashed phantasm evaporated.
Vanquishing Ataraxia's phantasm was far simpler.
It only mimicked Ataraxia; Park Chan-woo was outside its scope.
No hidden paths or extra rewards, apparently.
But the moment they reached the 12th floor.
"...Why are dragonkin here?"
Men exuding a dark aura were present.
They instantly recognized Ataraxia as dragonkin.
And she recognized them too.
"...Dusk Tribe."
The Dusk Tribe!
One of the Twelve Races—and they'd encountered them.