Chapter 401
Chapter 401
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 401
Chapter Title: Racial War (40)
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Ataraxia's oath of loyalty rippled through the chaos of the Earth Station, stirring up fresh waves.
The Despair Dragon, the loyal apostle of Dragon God Sepiro, had knelt before him.
A human, no less—the very one who had just driven their race to the brink of annihilation.
Park Chan-woo nodded silently.
He trusted Ataraxia.
Sepiro's brand, etched deep into his soul, was powerful, but Park Chan-woo believed without doubt that the 'Light of Purification' he had manifested, Arcana's sacrifice, and above all, the lingering pride within Ataraxia would work a miracle.
But this was only the beginning.
Kieeeek!
Kuooooooo!
In response to Park Chan-woo's will, beings beyond imagination began emerging from beyond the rift.
Led by the King of the Rifts, Signus, hundreds of divine beasts, each radiating different forms and auras, appeared.
The majesty of these colossal entities, infused with primordial chaos, was so overwhelming that even Ataraxia seemed like a mere lizard by comparison.
And that was not all.
Another existence Park Chan-woo had forged through the 'Absolute Magic Sepiro'.
Dragon God Sepiro.
No matter that it was a mere fragment—even replicating an absolute, supreme 'being' with such transcendent stature was impossible.
It was powerful and unique enough to stand as a 'concept' in its own right.
No one could imitate it, not even come close, for their very forms embodied worlds unto themselves.
Thus.
The 'Sepiro' Park Chan-woo had just conjured was no different from the Dragon God Sepiro that existed in the present.
It manifested like a melody of gold, projecting an image more resolute than any warrior of any race.
In the eyes of all races, the spectacle Park Chan-woo had created was seared indelibly.
He imprinted upon every being in the Abyss his return and the fact that the board had been flipped.
'A temporary manifestation. My divinity is still incomplete.'
Park Chan-woo coldly assessed his own state.
Through the Racial War's 'Blessing of First Participation' and Lee Hyuk-soo's existential foundation, he had momentarily reached zero point, but it was like a castle built on sand.
His true divinity wasn't fixed in reality, leaving it unstable—any small shock could dissolve it all like foam.
Once the Racial War ended, the zero point would release, and his divinity would fade.
Some remnants might linger, but for now, he was merely acting the part of his future self.
Thus, he had to make the most of this precarious opportunity.
Park Chan-woo extended his hand toward the void, toward all the beings of the Abyss watching this unfold.
At his gesture, the golden divine power that had spread around him writhed like a living thing and surged toward the heavens.
This was no mere release of mana.
It was the will of Park Chan-woo himself.
A grand proclamation heralding the dawn of a new era.
The beams of light shot skyward, exploding into a massive golden sun, its blinding radiance driving away the blood-red sky of the Earth Station and bathing the entire world in gold.
The aura of despair withered, the shattered earth mended itself, and new life seemed to sprout forth.
This was on another level from the 'gods' the demons had hunted.
The being they must regard as their destined sovereign stood right here.
He intended to make that crystal clear to them.
"Behold."
Even his quiet voice boomed like thunder.
Like the chorus of countless stars.
Like the primal vibration of the universe.
It pierced to the deepest recesses of listeners' souls, evoking an awe they could not resist.
"All you beings lost and wandering in the darkness. All you souls ensnared in the swamp of despair by false gods. The transformation you so desperately crave, the true glory you so fervently desire—it is I alone who shall deliver it to you."
His every word etched itself into the world like a new law.
The divine beasts roared in unison, as if answering his declaration, their cries shaking heaven and earth, solidifying Park Chan-woo's divine authority even further.
The newly manifested Sepiro stood at Park Chan-woo's side, silently obeying his will like his most loyal sword and shield.
The divine beasts' presence lent irrefutable weight to his proclamation.
Especially the imposing presence of Signus, newly ascended as King of the Rifts—no words were needed.
This was no frail divine beast that had once weakly existed by borrowing Han Min-oh's body.
A true sovereign who ruled the rifts by his own will, sprouting new order from chaos.
With a single flap of his wings, fragments of countless dimensions scattered in submission, his gaze radiating the Abyss's primal power and ancient wisdom.
Signus's existence proved that Park Chan-woo was no mere powerhouse but a 'king who commanded kings,' one who could sway the fate of worlds.
A god incarnate.
The silent endorsement of the King of the Rifts bolstered Park Chan-woo's authority more powerfully than any words.
It was a wordless warning to all who dared oppose him.
Dare to defy Park Chan-woo—his king—and think you can sleep soundly in the Abyss?
Can you truly protect your paltry territories and even paltrier lives from the claws and fangs of enraged divine beasts?
That unspoken pressure pierced beyond the ruins of the Earth Station, infiltrating the Eternal Train's interiors, the special viewing rooms of each race, and even the souls of entities possibly lurking in the Abyss's deepest recesses.
Tremors.
Not mere fear, but the instinctive shudder of those sensing an inexorable weight of fate.
Even the arrogant higher races, who had just dismissed Park Chan-woo's arrival as an 'irregularity' or 'error,' now realized the folly of their judgment before Signus's pure regal majesty.
Park Chan-woo observed their silence, their awe, and their irrepressible fear from afar, watching with evident satisfaction.
The faint smile on his lips seemed less the mercy of a benevolent god and more the cold amusement of an absolute being toying with all according to his whim.
"My declaration is not the end. This is merely the beginning."
His voice resonated once more across the entire Abyss, deeper still.
The act he had begun was gaining momentum.
To truly deceive and toy with them, he had to play from above their heads.
With words they could never anticipate, shaking them to the core.
Only then would they hold back.
They would seal their lips and gaze upon him—upon humanity—with docile eyes.
He intended to etch into them that the moment they bared their fangs, death would follow.
Thus.
"I am the Archmage, the one who tunes and plays all laws and phenomena of this world. I am your god, your hope."
The golden divine power centered on Park Chan-woo blazed even fiercer, distorting the surrounding space.
The shattered earth of the Earth Station rose anew at his will, and stars that had not existed flickered into being and vanished at his gestures.
Like a grand orchestra conductor, he freely played the instrument of the world, flaunting his dominion.
"Do not defy me. Obey my will. Do so, and I promise you the glory of a new era. But should any fool dare block my path or disrupt my symphony, that existence shall vanish eternally into oblivion deeper than the Abyss's profoundest depths. Even your gods shall be but dust before my wrath."
A threat and a temptation, it was also an inescapable ultimatum.
Park Chan-woo had no intention of letting his return end in mere vengeance or a show of force.
He would win more decisively.
With his return, defeat was impossible.
Yet victory came in many forms.
"I grant you time to choose."
His voice spread once more, lower and more oppressive than before.
"Will you join my order and become protagonists of the new era, or fade into history's shadows with the relics of the old? I expect wise judgment. But remember—my patience is not endless."
This was no mere proposal.
It was the final chance to join the tide of colossal change already underway, and a stark warning of the annihilation awaiting defiance.
Park Chan-woo seemed to offer the Abyss's denizens a chance to shape their fate, but the outcome of that choice was already predetermined.
He was no longer bound by past failures.
With the wisdom and power gained from countless regressions and enlightenments, he sought to turn the entire Abyss into a grand chessboard bent to his will.
And atop that board, he would be the absolute victor who tolerated no defeat.
His return was not mere revenge—it was the overture to the Abyss's total re-creation.
And the first note of that overture echoed now, from the Earth Station at his feet.
By Park Chan-woo's will, all beings of the Abyss had no choice but to prepare to be swept into a new vortex of destiny.
Or perish.
"That insolent, irreverent bastard...!"
Inside the Eternal Train, in the special viewing rooms of the once-arrogant higher-league races, an enraged shout erupted.
Its owner was likely a warrior from some ancient race whose pride in their long history and power pierced the heavens.
Park Chan-woo's divine descent and one-sided proclamation trampled their pride without mercy.
"A mere mortal dares call himself a god and demand submission from our great races? Do we need to heed such ravings from that madman?!"
Another voice exploded in fury.
Several viewing rooms leaked stifled killing intent amid waves of displeasure, echoing the sentiment.
They acknowledged his power yet refused his arrogance and unilateral decree.
It was fierce backlash against a lowly human—a newcomer barely stepping into the Racial War—defiling the authority they had upheld for thousands, tens of thousands of years in the Abyss.
But their rage scattered like empty echoes within the train.
It happened in an instant.
The viewing rooms that had been decrying Park Chan-woo with heated voices fell silent as if by prior agreement.
The murmurs and fury pervading the train vanished like a lie, replaced by suffocating stillness.
Like small beasts sensing a massive predator's approach, they instinctively shut their mouths and hunched low.
Park Chan-woo was returning.
The unspoken pressure that he had sorted the Earth Station's chaos and was now heading straight for the Eternal Train—for their very faces.
His divine might crushed all aboard, transcending physical distance.
Host Hoot watched the unfolding scene from the train's highest control room with anxious eyes.
Cold sweat beaded on his forehead, his usual sly, jovial demeanor utterly gone.
Hoot sensed it instinctively.
Something unpredictable and perilously dangerous, unlike any Racial War he had ever seen, had begun.
And at its center was Park Chan-woo, a being far beyond his comprehension.
Kreeeeak—thud.
Finally, one of the train's compartment doors slid open, and humanity's warriors emerged.
Led by Lee Hyuk-soo, they exuded an aura incomparably tougher and more resolute than before.
Following them, Park Chan-woo at last stepped into the train.
As he slowly walked down the compartment aisle, space warped faintly around him, golden particles of divine power trailing his footsteps.
His face remained shadowed by his helm, but the overwhelming presence emanating from him choked the entire train.
Hoot swallowed unconsciously.
He had dealt with countless powerhouses and transcendent beings, but Park Chan-woo evoked a primal fear and awe on another level entirely.
Then, Park Chan-woo's gaze fixed precisely on the control room where Hoot stood.
A stare that pierced his soul as if ignoring all walls and distances.
Hoot felt his feathers stand on end, shrinking back without thinking.
His heart pounded wildly, cold sweat cascading down his spine.
He desperately feigned composure, but his quivering beak and legs betrayed his terror.
'Th-that gaze...!'
No ordinary powerhouse's look.
The gaze of an absolute being who knew all, ruled all, judged all.
And he realized.
Park Chan-woo was no mere participant—he could upend the Racial War itself.
The words that followed stopped Hoot's heart.
"Looks like you made a deal."
...Was that directed at him?
Had he pierced space itself to grasp the full truth of these events?
'No way. The control room is supposed to be invisible to everyone!'
But his mind went blank.
Park Chan-woo's voice felt unmistakably aimed at him.
Deal.
That word pierced the secret pact Hoot had made with Dragon God Sepiro—luring humanity to the Earth Station to hand them over to Ataraxia—like an arrow.
But the humans shouldn't have returned to the train.
Yet here they all were.
Not a single one missing.
No—one extra, even.
Hoot tried to play it cool, but if his deal with the dragonkin was exposed...
'N-no, he couldn't know. It's coincidence. It has to be!'
He'd lose his host position, cast from the train to wander the Abyss eternally.
A punishment worse than death.