Chapter 426
Chapter 426
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 426
Chapter Title: Racial War (65)
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Zero's mouth snapped shut.
A will so unassailable that no logic could refute it.
For the first time, his flawless computational circuits sent out a signal closer to "admiration" than mere "understanding."
'How can a being with such immense variability possess a direction this unwavering?'
Every transcendent being Zero knew began to stagnate the moment they reached the pinnacle.
They feared change and sought to eliminate any possibility that threatened their authority.
Convinced they were the one true answer, they deemed all others wrong.
Intoxicated by past glories, they ignored the future; obsessed with present security, they turned away from greater possibilities.
'My past self, and Sepiro now, are no different.'
Dragon God Sepiro.
He stood at the apex of the Abyss, yet was bound by the heaviest chains.
The name "Dragon God," the arrogance of being "the strongest."
These blinded his eyes and halted his growth.
He always had absolute faith in himself, dismissing any chance his calculations could be wrong.
But Park Chan-woo was different.
He even factored his own annihilation into the equation—as merely one "variable" for a better future.
A wondrous self-denial that accepted he might not be the answer, that the world must continue without him.
Wasn't that the true meaning of "transcendence"?
For the first time, Zero felt pure "awe" toward Park Chan-woo.
Of course.
'I'm intensely curious what conclusion this will reach.'
...That didn't mean it was the right answer.
Park Chan-woo's choice was noble and awe-inspiring, but there was no guarantee it was the "correct path."
The Abyss wasn't some fairy tale world navigable by good intentions alone.
Self-sacrifice might change nothing in the end, dragging everyone into an even deeper abyss—the worst possible outcome.
But.
Whatever the result, Zero wanted to see this story through to its end.
A being so illogical, so anomalous, with such blazing will.
A completely new kind of tale, unlike any he'd encountered across eons.
The saga Park Chan-woo was penning was worth observing, even if it failed.
Yes. Undeniably captivating.
Thus.
'Shall I lend a hand, just a little.'
Zero resolved himself.
It would be a shame if this intriguing experiment ended too soon.
He wanted to witness up close whether this illogical sacrifice birthed a miracle or culminated in tragedy.
Park Chan-woo never spoke of failure.
His eyes burned only with certainty of victory and the future.
But Zero knew.
All these dreams were like sandcastles crumbling bit by bit, even now—held together only by the pillar named Park Chan-woo. The moment that pillar fell, everything would vanish like a mirage.
'Then, adding one more support to keep that pillar from collapsing wouldn't be so bad.'
It was far from pity or mercy.
The minimal intervention of an observer, for the most perfect experiment.
If he was to watch, he wanted to see the end in its most flawless state.
Silently, Zero connected his consciousness to the deepest core of the "Lucid Dream" Park Chan-woo had created—the root of that system.
The vast, unstable magical structure Park Chan-woo had designed unfolded before his eyes.
It resembled a colossal nebula, billions of stars precariously clinging to one another.
At its center, a single star named Park Chan-woo shone unsteadily, upholding everything.
'...Utterly reckless.'
Zero clicked his tongue.
Yet at the same time, he marveled at this crude yet beautiful magical architecture.
Zero tossed his own firewood onto Park Chan-woo's kindling.
His magical knowledge and understanding began reinforcing the dream, making it sturdier.
A choice his past self would never have made.
He'd entrusted himself to this impossible, self-sacrificial absolute magic.
The Train of the Eons continued racing through unknown voids.
The scenery outside the windows shifted every moment.
Shards of shattered worlds streaked by like meteors; bizarre vistas unfolded where rivers of time flowed backward.
Normally, the races would be locked in a tense game of observation, hunting hints for the next station amid this eerie flow.
But now, an uncanny silence enveloped the train cars.
No race dared move rashly or speculate on the next stop.
Their sole focus: the human compartment.
'What the hell is going on in there?'
A Giant Clan warrior pounded his thigh in frustration.
Since the humiliation at the "Crown of the Weakest Station," he'd been glaring at the humans' car—but gleaned nothing from within.
"If they've gained such an overwhelming advantage, you'd think they'd negotiate a 'deal.'"
"Why won't they come out of the compartment?"
"Even the other humans."
It defied their common sense.
With overwhelming power, the natural course was to subjugate other races and extract benefits.
Having monopolized the tickets, they should leverage that to demand massive concessions, expanding their influence.
But the humans did none of it.
They acted as if no one else existed on the train, showing zero interest in the outside world.
That stillness bred greater unease and terror among the other races.
A foreboding premonition that something massive—unknown to them—was brewing out of sight.
"Isn't this strange?"
A Celestial Clan sage finally broke the silence.
"The train's movements are far too erratic. Nothing like any track we know."
"...Not even a peep from Hup or the other conductors. Normally, they'd spout some trivial hint about the next station."
Not just the Celestials.
All races were sensing the anomaly.
And so.
As if by unspoken agreement, they all headed to the train's highest point—the control room where the conductors resided.
The conductors were nowhere to be seen.
They should have emerged by now, blabbering nonsense.
"Even those bastards can't control the situation now."
"This train... is barreling toward an unknown destination."
Unknown destination.
The thought solidified into certainty: they were heading to a station none had ever seen.
The moment their gazes turned outside, every warrior in the train froze in shock.
"......!"
"W-What is that?!"
The view beyond the windows stole the breath from everyone aboard.
Beyond the chaotic torrent of spacetime shards.
A reality-shattering spectacle unfolded.
A colossal "corpse" floated like a universe unto itself.
Its scale defied mere words like "huge."
As if dozens of planets fused together, it sprawled like a nebula in its own right.
Eons after life had fled it.
Its flesh remained unrotted, retaining majestic dignity.
Around the corpse orbited remnants of a once-thriving civilization, shards of pulverized planets drawn by its gravity.
What species could this be?
A race that massive—perhaps the Giants?
Legends said the Giant sovereign dwarfed worlds.
While other races lost themselves in the mythic sight, guttural gasps—near screams—erupted from the demon compartment.
They trembled not in awe like the others, but in primal terror.
"I-Impossible......"
"That's definitely...!"
Their reactions were visceral.
Pure dread prickling their skin.
Absolute reverence etched into their bloodline.
Mingled with desperate denial.
For that corpse belonged to a being no demon dared name aloud.
The one once called one of the great Ten Lords.
The "Lord of the Void," named for primordial chaos.
"Impossible!"
"How can that one's corpse exist at the 'Station of the Eons'!"
It couldn't be.
All Abyss records and history attested to it.
The Lord of the Void had perished long ago, during the "Great War" that decided the Abyss's fate—slain by the transcendent dragon Sepiro.
The interminable war had ended then.
That was the unshakeable orthodox history of the Abyss.
So why was the corpse of that supposedly annihilated Ten Lord here!
Like a massive tombstone in this alien space where time itself stood still.
As chaos and shock gripped everyone.
The moment the system message vanished, the entire train shuddered violently.
The scenery outside warped at light speed.
The Lord of the Void's massive corpse vanished in an instant, replaced by a blood-red sky and burning earth.
Kwarrr rumble!
Vast meteors rained from the heavens like downpours; crimson lava flowed like rivers from cracks in the ground.
"Th-This is!"
"The landscape of the Great War era!"
The most brutal epoch in Abyss history—seen only in ancient records and epics—now unfolded vividly before their eyes.
A massive "scenario" stage, manifesting an entire erased page of history from the flow of time.
Park Chan-woo gazed upon it and realized.
All the clues he'd chased thus far had formed one grand picture.
'After the Great War ended, the demons created the Racial War.'
The "Train of the Eons," which decided the fates of the upper leagues, was crafted by demons to their whims.
They claimed it prevented another Abyss-destroying "Great War."
A plausible logic: check each other's power through draining competition, maintaining order.
But.
'There's a hidden truth.'
Park Chan-woo sensed it instinctively.
Their justification was hollow hypocrisy.
The Lord of the Void's death.
Sepiro's sudden rise.
And the faded truth, the Emperor's tale that led him here.
All pointed to one massive "concealment."
The demons were hiding something.
The true end of the Great War, the real reason the Lord of the Void vanished—and perhaps... the most fatal truth that could shatter the Abyss's foundations.
Then, Park Chan-woo turned to Zero.
"What do you know?"
"......"
Zero paused briefly.
What did he know?
Well, he knew.
Zero was a fragment of the transcendent dragon.
Sepiro's heart, the seat of logic.
He spoke dryly.
"Sepiro did not kill the Lord of the Void."
And added.
"The demons did."
"...Why?"
Zero let out a scoff.
A hint of Sepiro's own mocking sneer.
"Because the Lord of the Void was the demons' 'progenitor.'"