Chapter 408
Chapter 408
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 408
Chapter Title: Interracial War (47)
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Station of the Forgotten Gods.
This was a place where the remnants of all "forgotten gods" lingered.
The original goal was to retrieve the "ticket" from the end of the temple, tainted by corrupted divinity.
But that process was anything but easy.
Once tainted by the corrupted divinity and curses, even the soul would be dyed, compelling one to attack others.
There would be no returning, no reclaiming one's original form.
"......You entered the temple without any preparation?"
Aeon Train, engine room.
The host "Hoot," who had been monitoring every participant's movements through countless screens, furrowed his brow.
His small penguin beak clicked sharply.
It was a habit that emerged when facing something extremely intriguing or utterly incomprehensible.
Station of the Forgotten Gods.
Even a demon god would suffer severe damage entering without preparation, due to the curses rampant here.
A furnace of malediction, forged from the grudges and despair of gods who lost their faith, condensed over eons.
Simply walking in was tantamount to suicide.
The standard strategy was to acquire tools or relics that ward off curses from around the temple before entering.
Yet that human, Park Chan-woo.
He strolled into the temple as casually as if heading to the neighborhood park for a walk.
Taking the other Dusk Race warriors with him, no less.
And they were all fine.
No, more than fine—they weren't affected by any curse whatsoever.
Their statuses displayed on the monitors were perfectly "normal."
How in the world?
Hoot mobilized his entire database, calculating every possible scenario.
First hypothesis.
What if he possessed a tool or piece of equipment with absolute compatibility that nullified all curses in this station?
But if such a thing existed, this station would have been conquered long ago.
Low probability.
Second hypothesis.
What if his racial trait or personal ability granted perfect immunity to curses?
Even then, it didn't explain why the accompanying Dusk Race warriors were unscathed. Could he extend his ability to others?
If so, his power far surpassed demon god level.
Third hypothesis.
What if he had formed some pact with the "master" of this station?
But the station's master was an aggregate of fallen, mindless wraith gods.
A pact with them was impossible.
Then, one hypothesis—the most unrealistic yet most plausible—flashed through Hoot's mind.
'No way...... Could his very existence rank above all the curses in this station?'
Like how all darkness vanishes before the sun.
His presence itself acting as a "law" that neutralized every curse.
'......No, that can't be. Ridiculous.'
Hoot immediately dismissed his own hypothesis.
Such a feat was only possible for the great Nine Lords or the "true bodies" of the Twelve Races.
Walking "errors" that distorted surrounding laws merely by existing, reshaping the world to their will.
But what appeared on the monitor now was just a warrior from the human race.
An unknown figure who hadn't existed in any records before the interracial war began.
For such a being to wield lord-level authority?
An incomprehensible phenomenon was unfolding right before his eyes.
Hoot was bewildered.
His perfect database offered no information to explain this situation.
It felt as if a nonexistent variable was ruining all his calculations.
Hoot focused once more on Park Chan-woo in the monitor.
Park Chan-woo set down the shattered holy grail and called out to something.
Shadow God, forgotten wraith.
'Chronos?'
Was there a god by that name?
Hoot scoured his vast database, but not a single line of information on a god named "Chronos" existed.
A completely forgotten existence, or a name that never existed to begin with.
Perhaps a phantom fabricated by that human.
But at Park Chan-woo's call, the deepest darkness in the temple began to writhe.
It wasn't a single entity.
An aggregate of wraith gods, born from the grudges and despair of hundreds, thousands of forgotten gods tangled over eons, burst forth.
The master of the station.
The despair of these forgotten gods reaching its end!
[The one... who called... us... is that you......?]
Countless voices resounded as one, yet a dissonant cacophony laced with individual pains and rages, shaking the entire temple.
Dust sifted from the ruined pillars, the ground vibrating faintly in resonance with their resentment.
The wraith gods' aggregate had no fixed form.
A chaotic clump of countless arms, legs, and screaming faces—a manifestation of nightmare itself.
Within the pitch-black sludge of despair, some faces twisted in rage, others drowned in endless sorrow.
A vortex of all negative emotions forming one colossal monster.
[From you... a new... scent of... faith......]
[Your soul... must be... so delicious......]
[Corrupt you... make you... one of us......]
[Dreadful... divine power!]
[We can... reclaim... our existence... once more......]
The wraith gods' aggregate gazed at Park Chan-woo with ravenous eyes.
Thousands of pupils fixed on him in unison.
They sought to absorb his new divinity, etching their forgotten existences back onto the world.
To use him as a sacrifice and escape this infernal prison of oblivion.
Toward them, Park Chan-woo quietly extended his hand.
There was no threat or hostility in his movement.
A gentle, merciful gesture, like soothing a lost child.
And from his lips flowed a spell so pure and holy, one the wraith gods had never heard.
"Elysion."
In that instant, the temple's ruined ceiling vanished, the ashen sky parting.
In its place appeared an endless night sky and one massive, radiant star.
Hoot gasped at the sight of that star.
It wasn't mere magic.
A complete micro-universe, the law of salvation manifested around Park Chan-woo himself.
The star's very existence was the perfect antidote to this station's curses.
Like sunlight evaporating a stagnant puddle, an absolute superior law reduced the inferior to nothing.
Light pouring from the colossal star enveloped the wraith gods' aggregate softly.
The light was warm, like a mother's touch healing every wound.
[Argh... aaah...! This light...!]
The wraith gods screamed in agony.
The armor of grudges, despair, hatred, and sorrow accumulated over eons melted like snow under that purifying pain.
Immediately after, Hoot witnessed a miracle.
Park Chan-woo softly called a name toward them.
"Awaken, God of Storms 'Barak'."
As Park Chan-woo's voice echoed, the wraith gods' aggregate convulsed violently.
From the black mass, a pure bolt of lightning erupted fiercely, as if snapping chains.
A flash burst, forging into a complete humanoid form.
Though his armor was shattered and cloak torn, it was the dignified form of the storm god.
A faint spark of his former vitality returned to his hollow eyes.
[H-how? My name... I... lord of storms... Barak...?]
The being called Barak. The forgotten wraith god reclaimed himself the moment his name was invoked.
He gazed down at his hands.
Hands that had been part of an ugly monster moments ago were now his own, once wielding lightning.
With eyes mixed of shock, confusion, and faint hope, he looked at Park Chan-woo.
But Park Chan-woo's miracle didn't end there.
"God of Earth 'Gaion'."
This time, a massive chunk of rock and barren soil separated.
With cracking sounds, the corruption scattered like dust.
From within emerged the sturdy, dignified god of earth.
Warmth flowed into his statue-like skin, faint life stirring from the shattered ground beneath his feet.
Feeling the purified earth underfoot, he murmured in a trembling voice.
[I am... Gaion. Father... of this land......]
"Goddess of Wisdom 'Sophia'."
Ancient runes and shadows tangled chaotically swirled together, parting like pages of a book from the center.
A goddess in pristine white robes appeared.
Wisdom's light dawned in her vacant eyes, serenity settling on her face drowned in endless sorrow for the first time.
She bowed to her savior, a single tear falling.
Park Chan-woo continued calling the names of the forgotten gods, one by one.
Elysion, the holy magic that even discerned the names of forgotten gods.
It resembled when he learned Guardian of Illusions Graktus's name, but manifested through the completed star, the result was worlds apart.
The wraith gods who heard their names began to reawaken themselves one after another.
They were no longer monsters shrouded in grudge and despair.
Though weakened, they were gods who once ruled the world, reclaiming past glory and dignity.
They gazed at their new god and savior, Park Chan-woo, with eyes of awe and gratitude.
No greed or hatred remained in the gods' eyes.
Only absolute reverence for the one who restored their names.
"Insane......!"
Hoot watched the entire scene, holding his breath.
A power that purified curses and saved forgotten gods.
Authority that restored cursed wraiths to gods.
Wasn't that the true power of a "god"?
No mistaking it.
Why had he summoned Baal to block other races' warriors?
Now he understood. To perform this miracle alone.
And this scene was being broadcast to all "races."
To humans and all higher races aboard the Aeon Train.
They were witnessing a human saving forgotten gods—the birth of an unbelievable myth.
