Chapter 439
Chapter 439
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 439
Chapter Title: Racial War (78)
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The space where Chaos had vanished was shrouded in silence.
Only silence lingered there.
The newly reborn Hope's Dragon, Arcana, returned to Park Chan-woo as if it had fulfilled its calling.
There was no excitement in its steps, no arrogance of victory.
It was simply calm and serene, as if it had merely accomplished something utterly natural.
Before long, Arcana halted in front of Park Chan-woo and lowered its massive body.
As if it were the most natural thing in the world.
It offered its back willingly, so its master could resume the journey.
Just like a loyal Ghaz Knight guarding its god.
Absolute faith and devotion toward its god alone filled every movement.
"I have fulfilled my calling and returned, my one true god."
"Well done."
Park Chan-woo acknowledged it.
Arcana had become a true god in every sense.
It had broken free from the Dragon God's bondage and become a being that could exist on its own.
Furthermore, it had transformed into the "ticket" itself, earning the right to advance to the next station alongside Park Chan-woo.
Without a word, Park Chan-woo climbed onto Arcana's back.
With a mighty flap of its wings, the Hope's Dragon soared toward the Eternal Train.
All the races watched the scene in bated breath.
A single human riding the newly born Dragon God back in triumph—a scene straight out of myth.
How could they even describe this?
Fear? Awe? Confusion?
They didn't know.
It was an emotion none of them had ever felt before.
But one thing was crystal clear.
'We must not oppose him.'
That being was one they dared not challenge.
'What... what the hell am I seeing right now?'
The warriors of the upper races.
Their eyes were fixed on the lone human riding the newly born Dragon God back.
When the "Great War" scenario began, they had thought it was finally their chance.
A real battlefield where only pure strength and strategy mattered, free from Park Chan-woo's incomprehensible powers that had dominated everything before.
A stage where they could unleash their races' innate might, seize victory, and reclaim the initiative they had lost.
They thought it was as simple as their race winning.
But once again.
In the end, every outcome converged on Park Chan-woo.
He hadn't even participated in the war or taken sides.
He had simply headed to the deepest part of the battlefield.
And at its end, he wrought a miracle that overturned history.
On the Golden Path, no less. No matter how much of a Great War-era being it was, to erase the Dragon God Sepiro...
This defied all reason.
It was impossible. It shouldn't have been possible.
"A mere human... how...?"
A giant race warrior muttered in a trembling voice.
It bordered on terror.
How could a puny human stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the Twelve Lords!
In their world, a race's "station" was absolute.
Determined by the power of bloodlines built over tens of thousands, even billions of years, and the presence of a transcendent being known as the Lord.
Humans were at the very bottom of that pyramid—a frail race that should have gone extinct long ago.
Yet that human now stood on the same plane as their gods—nay, seemed to surpass them.
Their arrogance and pride were being utterly denied from the roots.
They could no longer view Park Chan-woo through the lens of "human."
He was a calamity.
A calamity that shattered every order they knew and inscribed new laws, utterly incomprehensible.
And now, they had to head to the final battlefield alongside that calamity.
'We can't win.'
That single phrase burned into the minds of every race's warriors like a brand.
That human—Park Chan-woo—was the heaven beyond heaven.
He wasn't just strong.
He was a world-shattering disaster beyond their comprehension, beyond the common sense of the Abyss itself.
The Twelve Lords were transcendent monsters far removed from beings that could be opposed with ordinary concepts.
Yet Park Chan-woo had killed Sepiro, the god of dragons.
No, "killed" didn't even fit.
They had seen that moment clearly.
The absolute instant when Sepiro manifested as the Transcendent Dragon and uttered a dragon word to erase the world.
Park Chan-woo had simply called an incomprehensible name. That was it.
Yes, that was all.
No magic. No clash of swords.
Yet Sepiro crumbled from within.
They had witnessed his divinity shatter, his existence unravel, until it became a single ticket.
It was beyond understanding.
Honestly, it looked like Sepiro automatically disassembled just by standing before Park Chan-woo.
That alone shattered all common sense—an incomprehensible shock.
And then Arcana's appearance and the divine might it displayed brought even greater impact.
A dead dragon revived as a god, then single-handedly smashed two outer gods—a terror etched eternally into their minds.
Especially the Archangel Outer God.
The calamity that once shook the Abyss.
Wasn't it the absolute chaos that weakened the demons' dominion?
Yet the Hope's Dragon "purified" it so effortlessly.
And that was just Park Chan-woo's subordinate.
So what realm had his master, Park Chan-woo, reached?
"......"
Inside the train.
Everyone fell silent.
A suffocating silence enveloped them.
Could this even be called a fight?
A battle? A war?
They now painfully realized that the levels, skills, gear, and powers they had built over lifetimes meant nothing before that being.
And now, they had to head to another battlefield alongside that calamity.
No one could open their mouth.
The deepest depths of the Abyss.
The other Twelve Lords, watching all this from their thrones, were also steeped in silence.
But the meaning of their silence differed from the despair felt by the warriors on the train.
Rumble rumble rumble—!
The first to break the silence was Hecate, the living world and primordial giant god.
A massive laugh erupted from his abyss, shaking the entire world.
"Kuhahaha! Serves you right, you arrogant dragon bastard!"
For the first time since awakening from slumber, Hecate laughed from the heart.
Now he understood.
Why his power had turned into a mere pebble in the "Crown of the Weakest King" station.
'So it wasn't that my power was weak. That human, that little worm, was already on the level of a god from the start!'
The humiliation of having his power denied melted away like snow.
If the opponent was a monster of that caliber, it was no wonder his power couldn't touch him.
It wasn't even a particularly great power to begin with.
Besides, seeing the haughty Dragon God Sepiro crumble so pathetically was utterly satisfying.
It felt like millennia-old indigestion finally dissolving.
"The landscape is about to change."
Hecate was genuinely thrilled.
For ages after the Great War, he had reigned as the lord and god of the giants, but no situation had required his direct intervention.
So he had slept.
Back in the Great War days, the Twelve Lords' might had been roughly equal.
Anticipating a true "war" someday, Hecate had ceaselessly grown stronger.
As a result, he had become the world itself in size.
Meaning he was far stronger than during the Great War.
Of course, the other Lords had grown in their own ways too.
"A real Great War is coming! Let's see who the true strongest is!"
He wasn't the only one whose heart raced with anticipation.
The other Twelve Lords surely felt the same.
Especially after witnessing that tiny human erase the Great War-era Sepiro.
They must have been convinced seeing him erase the "Archangel Outer God" that even the Nine Great Lords couldn't.
It was time to move.
However.
"...Hmm."
Hecate stroked his chin with a hand like a mountain range, lost in deep thought.
That tiny human, Park Chan-woo.
What to do with him.
One thing was certain: he was a variable.
The most dangerous and intriguing variable—one that even he and the arrogant Dragon God Sepiro couldn't measure.
The answer was simple.
'Better to make him an ally than an enemy, no?'
Turning an unfathomable being like that into a foe would be foolish.
No telling how he'd strike from behind or dismantle their order with some outlandish method.
But as an ally?
He'd be the sharpest blade to check Sepiro.
A satisfied smile crept onto Hecate's lips.
He had decided.
To extend a hand to that tiny human.
The moment Park Chan-woo finally returned to the train.
"......!"
Everyone's faces twisted in shock.
The Terminal Station.
An announcement of an ending far earlier than anyone had anticipated.
But Park Chan-woo couldn't fully read the message.
'My consciousness...'
The price for summoning Azathoth was brutal.
Even manifesting just 1% of the primordial chaos had drained his divinity—built on humanity's faith—to the brink.
And that wasn't all.
Continuous battles and miracles had worn him down relentlessly.
Especially "Lucid Dream," the power that consumed the most divinity.
He desperately clung to his fading consciousness.
'I can't... lose my mind yet. Not until...'
With that final thought, Park Chan-woo's vision went black.