Chapter 437
Chapter 437
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 437
Chapter Title: Racial War (76)
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Everything made sense.
In Sepiro's mind, all the scattered puzzle pieces fell perfectly into place.
The Lord of the Void had chosen self-annihilation.
If it was all for this grand scheme.
At the end of the Great War, he hadn't truly been defeated.
The nagging unease from not finishing him off with his own hands—this was its source.
Right up to the moment of vanishing, the bastard had been deceiving him.
'He became my adversary of his own accord.'
Disguised in a human body as the most insignificant, pathetic being, he had reappeared on this stage of the Racial War.
Sepiro recalled every bizarre action Park Chan-woo had shown.
Even that ability to purify errors as if they were his own.
Looking back now, it was all too clear.
The Lord of the Void was Abyss's greatest "error" from the start!
The source of chaos that rejected order and rendered all laws meaningless.
That was why he could handle other errors with such ease.
'God of the Forgotten Ones? How laughable.'
Azathos was the same.
The foolish father who rejected order.
He too was a remnant of chaos from the same lineage as the Lord of the Void—one that should have been forgotten.
All of it, gathered under the name Park Chan-woo, now challenging his order at last.
In the end, not content with being the progenitor of demons, he was clearly aiming for the throne of Abyss's sole god—the Dragon God!
But.
A cold smile crept across Sepiro's lips.
The bastard was mistaken.
Terribly mistaken.
'How could the me from back then be the same as the me now?!'
The Sepiro of the Great War era had not yet become the complete Dragon God.
He had been a half-baked deity, forever in Bahamut's shadow, unable to claim true dominion.
But now was different.
Over eons ruling Abyss, he had absorbed countless powers—even learning the concept of "death" through Park Chan-woo.
The current him stood at a pinnacle incomparable to any past existence.
And that wasn't all.
'The Great Rift.'
Within it, he had encountered and claimed as his own the "Transcendent Outer God" that surpassed even Abyss's laws.
Absorbing it, stripping everything away, he had become a "world" unto himself.
To describe him now.
He could confidently claim to be the pinnacle not just of his species, but of this entire world.
And to such a being, a mere ghost from the past dared issue a challenge.
From the one who had fled by choosing self-annihilation!
'Pathetic.'
Sepiro's gaze turned icy cold.
Even back then, the bastard hadn't been able to kill him.
The Lord of the Void had escaped in the most cowardly way—by erasing himself.
And now, borrowing a human body to stage this ridiculous revival.
It was certainly an unforeseen move, an unexpected outcome.
But that only made it more intriguing.
Truth be told, he'd been bored.
Everything bending too easily to his order, everything dyed in his colors—it was a dull, predictable result.
Standing at Abyss's pinnacle meant facing profound solitude and ennui from the highest perch.
Yet.
A ghost he thought dead had appeared as a new variable in this tedious play.
Just an addition to make things more entertaining.
'Fine. Thrash about as much as you like, Lord of the Void.'
No chains remained in all of Abyss that could bind him now.
In the past, a massive shadow had always loomed over him.
The previous Dragon God Bahamut. And the ancient dragons who followed him.
They acknowledged his power yet always stood above him, imposing their outdated order and traditions.
Irksome shackles suppressing his whims and freedom.
But no longer.
They could no longer control Sepiro.
No—they were mere walking corpses, leeching off past glories, not even daring to dream of it.
The sole reason Sepiro kept them alive was one thing.
Their "symbolism."
Living fossils proving the great history of the dragon race.
Ornaments displaying the antiquity and legitimacy of his rule.
They held no value beyond that.
They were too decayed to even rebel, so he simply left them be.
And it wasn't just them.
All dragons in this world were mere useful tools to Sepiro.
He had already transcended the species of "dragon" itself.
When he absorbed the Transcendent Outer God in the Great Rift and became a "world," he broke free of species limits, establishing his own truth.
His will was law, his existence the world's pinnacle.
Could some "faded truth" dare oppose such a being?
A worn-out, forgotten truth, daring to.
All outdated things would turn to dust before Sepiro's grand truth.
No matter how they struggled, that fact wouldn't change.
It could never change.
Sepiro's divinity, which had maintained itself as a single complete entity.
Was now shattering amid uncontrollable chaos.
"...Th-this... such a thing...!"
His form teetered precariously between transcendent dragon and human.
His rampaging mana escaped his control, indiscriminately destroying and scattering the surrounding space.
Even the twelve suns he had forged lost their orbits, circling him anxiously like frightened children.
Park Chan-woo quietly watched the scene.
'The rampage won't stop.'
He coldly analyzed the results of his actions.
'My words.'
'Something only I can do.'
Chronos had said divine language must be countered with divine language.
And Park Chan-woo had awakened the primordial chaos slumbering deep in the Demon-Sealing God's chalice—his sole unique weapon.
But Park Chan-woo knew.
He hadn't fully unleashed the existence of the first Dragon God Azathos.
No, not even 10%.
Perhaps just 1%.
He had merely faintly projected the infinite chaos's presence into this world for an instant.
The silent scream he uttered was merely Azathos's breath in sleep.
Yet even that 1% ripple caused this.
Even against Sepiro, who hadn't reached complete Dragon God status long ago.
It erased Sepiro's draconic tongue—and induced rampage beyond that.
Sepiro's own draconic tongue was obliterating him; it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say so.
'...Azathos. Why is a being like him inside the Demon-Sealing God's chalice?'
That was the puzzling part.
The first Dragon God. Primordial chaos.
A being whose name alone shook Abyss's history—why was he trapped in some mere relic?
When he had summoned the Heavenly Demon before, Park Chan-woo had vaguely grasped the chalice's system.
The Demon-Sealing God's chalice was a prison that devoured and sealed its final user.
A cursed relic granting power in exchange for enslaving the soul.
Then.
'Was the first Dragon God Azathos... also a user of the Demon-Sealing God's chalice?'
The moment that thought struck, Park Chan-woo's mind grew complicated.
Why would a primordial being need to borrow the chalice's power?
Had there been an even greater threat he couldn't handle alone?
'God of Offerings.'
Park Chan-woo recalled the faint will dwelling at the chalice's core, his deepest depths.
That one would know the answers.
All the history of the chalice and the secrets of those slumbering within.
But even if revived, it wouldn't give answers freely.
The God of Offerings always remained silent.
He dealt only in trades, never conversation.
Only when offered the most valuable sacrifice would he grant a corresponding miracle.
Park Chan-woo pondered.
God of Offerings. What did it truly desire?
Simply more, more valuable offerings?
No, that alone didn't explain it.
It didn't react merely to an offering's "value."
Kankun's heart, Arcana's sacrifice, Signus's maternal love.
All those offerings contained not just raw power, but sublime "will."
Perhaps.
What it truly craved wasn't the offerings themselves.
But the "stories" and "wills" within them.
The sublime moments of sacrifice, hurling oneself to achieve something.
And at the end of all those stories, what did it seek?
If it fully revived.
What would happen then?
Before Park Chan-woo's musings could end, the world shook once more.
"Graaaaa... Aza...thos...."
Sepiro's fragmentation raced toward its conclusion.
All the mana and divinity forming his body, every story piled over eons, began condensing into a single point.
The end of one "story," refined into "truth" as a "ticket"—this scenario's finale.
Finally, where Sepiro's form vanished completely, a single dazzling golden ticket dropped with a thud.
Park Chan-woo stared blankly at the ticket falling through the air.
The truth of the Great War.
One page of Abyss's concealed false history had thus drawn to a close.
Was everything over now?
But Park Chan-woo wasn't satisfied yet.
A heavy stone lingered in his chest.
'I made a promise.'
To Arcana.
To that noble dragon who believed in him until the very end amid despair.
That he would bring back Sepiro.
And so, without hesitation, Park Chan-woo moved.
The golden path led to Arcana.
Toward the throne where the Lord of the Great Evil sat, and the True Dragon Arcana before it, morphing into a horrific undead.
"Arcana."
The hollow eyes of the True Dragon, losing reason and falling to corruption, faintly turned toward him.
"I've come to keep my promise."
Park Chan-woo extended the ticket in his hand toward Arcana.
"Your god, the one you so desperately wanted."
-Ah... ah...
A faint light flickered in True Dragon Arcana's hollow eyes.
Its bony fingers, trembling as if about to crumble, reached toward the golden ticket.
The moment the ticket touched Arcana's bones.
Whoooosh—!
Golden light erupted from the ticket, engulfing Arcana's entire body like a living sun.
Then, the unbelievable happened.
Flesh began forming on the parched bones.
Dark red sinews sprouted, firm muscles wrapping the frame.
The rotten, decayed heart pulsed anew, sending hot blood surging through its body.
Pure light of hope radiated from its form.
The light spread beyond Arcana's body, purifying the Lord of the Great Evil's domain of despair and blanketing the entire battlefield groaning from the Great War.
Malevolent meteors pouring from the sky dissolved to dust upon touching the light; the blood- and hatred-soaked earth reclaimed its original vitality.
All combatants paused, lowering their weapons to gaze dumbstruck at the wondrous sight.
When the light finally receded.
No longer was there a True Dragon.
A dragon of even greater majesty, nobility, infused with profound wisdom and benevolence.
The true Dragon of Hope, Arcana, had been resurrected.
By swallowing the entirety of this "Faded Truth Station."
As a raw lifeform, not a created being.
As truth incarnate, not a false existence!
It stood before Park Chan-woo.
Yet different.
Its stature alone was worlds apart from before.
Park Chan-woo felt it.
'Divinity.'
From Arcana emanated a new "divinity."