Chapter 451
Chapter 451
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 451
Chapter Title: Racial War (90)
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Screams erupted.
Far in the distance, the sole being guarded by humanity's warriors.
Park Chan-woo, deep in slumber.
A radiant divinity poured from his body, sweeping across the entire battlefield like a storm of light.
Yet this was utterly impossible.
Dozens, hundreds of different divinities intertwined, blazing more brilliantly than any star.
The dragonkin’s noble majesty, the giants’ primal might, the twilight kin’s profound darkness, the celestial race’s sacred order.
And that was not all.
Even cataloging the minor divinities would have no end.
All of them harmonized perfectly within a single being.
To those who could sense divinity, this defied all comprehension.
"That... what is..."
"How could a single being possess such divinity?"
It was impossible.
The 'Progenitor' born from a race's faith embodied only that one divinity, representing solely their own kind.
But Park Chan-woo shattered every mold.
Unbeknownst to him, he had drawn faith and belief from multiple races.
The gratitude of the forgotten gods he had saved.
Arcana's devotion, having glimpsed hope at the end of despair.
And the awe from all other races who had witnessed his feats.
Even now, the battle raging around him swelled his divinity further.
The racial war had become a clash between those seeking to kill Park Chan-woo and those defending him.
And paradoxically, this had become the decisive factor in determining the war's outcome.
Countless minor races barred from the upper leagues, nameless tribes on the brink of extinction.
All of them watched this myth unfold through the broadcast.
They had seen it.
Park Chan-woo performing miracles unbound by race: saving forgotten gods, resurrecting the dead dragon.
By his side stood not just humans, but giants, twilight kin, even witches.
'Then...'
A tiny spark of hope ignited in their hearts.
'If it's him... if it's Park Chan-woo, might he save us too?'
Their gods had always favored only their own race.
The weak merely served as stepping stones for the strong to trample—this was the Abyss's natural law.
But Park Chan-woo was different.
That faint hope had grown into fervent faith, gathering like an invisible river, bit by bit, forging this miraculous divinity.
And in this final war, the sight of Zero, humanity's warriors, and the five races fighting to the death to protect him became the catalyst that exploded their belief.
'Please...'
'May that being triumph.'
'His victory is our victory.'
They had become fully immersed.
All that faith set Park Chan-woo's dormant heart beating once more.
Hwaaaaaah!
The radiant light of divinity bursting from his body surged with incomparable ferocity.
Hundreds of millions of diverse faiths melted in a massive furnace, reborn as a single, perfect divinity of an entirely new hue.
As if a new sun had risen.
Every being in the Abyss witnessed that light with awe.
And at its center, Park Chan-woo.
Thud.
Thud.
Was approaching.
"Whoa..."
"...!"
Seoul, South Korea, Abyss Safety Bureau Central Control Room.
Minister Park Sang-min had risen from his chair without realizing it.
Hot tears welled in his eyes.
This was not a scene unique to the control room.
In plazas, on streets, in homes.
All had stopped in their tracks.
Billions of humans gazed up at the sky, holding their breath as they watched the same sight.
And felt the same emotions.
As humans, they watched the broadcast with even fiercer intensity.
'Please...'
Lee Hyuk-soo's mother, Kim Ji-yeon, prayed as she beheld the man her son called the 'Prophet'.
She could see it.
The hundreds of millions of desperate pleas contained in that light.
Her own wish mingled among them.
It was a light that warmly embraced even the faith of the weak.
Now, all of humanity had become one.
No one questioned his existence or gossiped any longer.
They had all witnessed the horrors of war.
They felt bone-deep that those blades could turn on them.
And at the center stood Park Chan-woo.
A human.
Was that not pride enough?
The people clasped their hands, pouring their desperate hopes into prayer.
Park Chan-woo quietly dismounted from Arcana's back.
Then strode fearlessly toward the battlefield turned hellscape.
Everything entered his sight.
Demon gods descended with the authority of the Nine Great Lords, trampling his comrades.
The dragon's outer gods.
Zero, Adora, even Gremory enduring by burning their very existence amid all that despair.
Seeing it all, Park Chan-woo finally fully comprehended the source of this miraculous power pouring into him.
'So this is it.'
The demons' ugly true faces, Sepiro's arrogant tyranny—all laid bare across the Abyss.
Every race had witnessed with their own eyes how unjust and selfish the old rulers were.
And they began seeking new hope.
A single being transcending racial boundaries, saving the weak, challenging the impossible, defying even absolutes.
Himself.
This meant massive cracks were forming in the Abyss's rigid order.
Though the demon god Gremory fought valiantly alone, she could not stem the tide alone.
Park Chan-woo sensed the racial war's end—and the new era's dawn—approaching.
He gathered every one of the hundreds of millions of wishes and hopes converging on him.
A sphere of blinding light, beyond imagination in size, formed above his hand.
Wish.
The pure crystal of desperate yearnings, the material for absolute magic.
The watching great beings were all stunned.
No one had ever seen a Wish that massive.
What destruction could absolute magic forged from that wield?
But.
What Park Chan-woo created was no magic of destruction.
He gently pushed the massive Wish toward the sky.
It burst, drenching the entire battlefield in golden rain.
The authority of creation, restoring all to their original state.
"Kraaaah..."
The dragon's outer gods reacted first.
The grotesque flesh covering their bodies melted like snow at the golden rain's touch.
In its place, their original noble, sturdy dragon scales regrew.
Corrupted souls purified, twisted flesh restored.
"Kraaaagh!"
The crimson authority of the Nine Great Lords empowering the demon gods also withered before the golden rain, screaming into oblivion.
The war halted.
All combatants froze as if by prior agreement.
They could only stare blankly at the miraculous rain from the heavens—and Park Chan-woo at its center.
Breaking that silent hush, a figure staggered up from the battlefield's ashes.
Han Shin, thought dead.
He could regenerate from even the tiniest fragment, so he had survived.
But in his cold arms, he cradled his brother Han Min-oh's corpse.
"...Bring him back."
Han Shin walked toward Park Chan-woo.
"Bring him back, you bastard."
He stopped before Park Chan-woo and knelt.
The arrogant man who had never bowed to anyone in his life.
"I fed him my cells. I poured in all my power. And yet... he won't regenerate. Why? Why my brother..."
Park Chan-woo silently looked down at the first time Han Shin had broken.
Then quietly spoke.
"The dead cannot be revived."
"Don't lie!"
Han Shin wailed.
"No way! My brother couldn't die to some lowly demon!"
With his brother dying before his eyes, the forgotten emotions he had ignored and trampled his whole life burst forth like a breached dam.
Park Chan-woo watched that raw grief for a moment.
Then offered a faint possibility.
"...There is one way."
"...!"
"Your eyes. They see past and future, linking causality—the Death Command Eyes. If you offer one as sacrifice."
Park Chan-woo's gaze turned to the massive Wish floating in the sky.
"Your desperate wish just might create a miracle."
Han Shin hesitated briefly.
His everything, the source of his power—the Death Command Eyes.
Give it up himself?
But his hesitation was short-lived.
He recalled his brother's face, smiling at him in the final moment.
Without doubt, he reached for his left eye.
Crack.
With a gruesome sound, he gouged out his eyeball.
And held it out to Park Chan-woo.
Park Chan-woo took it and quietly inserted it into the massive heavenly Wish.
That instant.
Shwaaaaaah!
Radiant light streaked down like a meteor, pouring onto Han Min-oh's cold corpse.
A miracle was unfolding.
Han Min-oh's shattered body began reconstructing within the light.
When the light finally faded, he breathed again, without a single wound.
And slowly opened his eyes.
One of Han Min-oh's eyes had become a Death Command Eye, like his brother's.
"B-Brother...?"
The revived Han Min-oh murmured in disbelief.
"H-How am I...? I was definitely dead..."
Reviving the dead was impossible.
No being, not even one touching divine hierarchy, could achieve it.
Yet Park Chan-woo had made it possible.
Strictly speaking.
'The Terminus. It governs all deaths.'
Thanks to the location's singularity.
After gaining divinity, he had naturally learned upon arriving here.
Beyond this.
The Terminus handled beginnings and ends.
Han Min-oh's soul had lingered nearby instead of departing to the Abyss's sky, and his body had not yet received full 'death sentence'.
Of course, that alone was insufficient.
Park Chan-woo gazed at the Wish.
This was no mere Wish.
One containing all divinities, forged by Park Chan-woo.
'God of Offerings.'
...It was precisely the God of Offerings.