Chapter 460
Chapter 460
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 460
Chapter Title: Results Announcement (2)
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"W-What?"
"Why are the rankings... like this?"
"Undetermined? What the hell does that mean?"
The murmurs instantly swelled into massive waves, rippling across the entire Abyss.
They'd announced the final results, only for every rank except first place to remain undecided?
Nothing like this had ever happened since the Tribal War began.
Was it a system glitch? Or had the tallying not finished yet?
In that moment of universal confusion, another message appeared on the system window.
And its contents were wondrous and horrifying enough to render all previous shocks trivial.
Silence.
It felt as if time itself had frozen.
Grasping what they'd just witnessed—what it meant—took an eternity.
'The authority... to decide the rankings?'
This wasn't some mere trophy handed to the victor.
It was the power to directly intervene in the Abyss's foundational laws, the absolute system that dictated the fates of all tribes.
The very idea of one tribe dictating others' rankings was absurd.
It shook the Tribal War's core tenet of fairness to its roots—an act tantamount to the system committing suicide.
Yet the system coldly explained how this impossibility was possible, through the next message.
A score on another dimension entirely.
Indeed. Park Chan-woo's accomplishments went beyond mere victory in the Tribal War—they were akin to saving the crumbling Abyss world itself.
Under an irrefutable justification no one could deny, the system had bestowed godlike authority upon him.
Humanity. A single human at that. Now, the rankings of every tribe in the Abyss—their futures—rested entirely in his hands.
"……!"
The moment that truth sank in, the battlefield's atmosphere split starkly.
"Ha... hahaha!"
Hecarim of the Giant Clan burst into unrestrained, triumphant laughter.
The leaders of the Heavenly Clan, Dusk Clan, Kirin Clan, and Golden Lion Clan beside him wore expressions of relief and glee, their rigid faces blooming into smiles.
Their choice had been right.
It was proven: they were the wisest investors, the first to kneel before the god ushering in a new era.
Now, for championing humanity, they would reap unimaginable benefits.
But in stark contrast to their joy, despair like hellfire bloomed on the other side.
All tribes that had opposed humanity.
Color drained from their faces.
The demons were the first to face reality.
"……."
The Demon God Gremory closed his eyes in silent grief.
It was the worst possible outcome.
Every demon and Creator watching the broadcast felt the same.
Normally, they'd have joked in such a bizarre, stimulating situation, "Wanna bet on our ranking?"
But not now. They lacked even the spirit for that.
Cold sweat—of a kind they'd never felt before—trickled down their spines.
This was real.
No game for amusement.
They, who had so enjoyed the Tribal War's web, were now the prey ensnared within it.
If Park Chan-woo shoved them to the bottom, the penalties would be catastrophically beyond imagination.
It could spell the rise and fall of their tribe.
Territories and powers built over thousands, tens of thousands of years could vanish to dust in an instant.
Ironically, they themselves had crafted those horrific penalties.
To utterly crush the losers, ensuring they could never rise again.
It was a law they had forged.
Now, that blade was aimed at their own necks.
A heavy silence descended for the first time upon the thrones of the Nine Great Lords.
They had anticipated Park Chan-woo rewriting the rules or destroying the system.
But this? Unimaginable.
Not shattering the existing rules, but exploiting them perfectly to turn them into a blade of judgment against themselves.
A defeat more cunning and humiliating than any violence.
A perfect self-own.
The Nine Great Lords' consciousnesses were engulfed in a sense of powerlessness they'd never felt across eons.
They began imagining the worst case.
If Park Chan-woo relegated the demon tribe to the bottom...
The mere thought was horrifying.
'Growth will be halted.'
The Tribal War's penalties were absolute.
The lowest-ranked tribe faced severe level caps.
No new powerhouses could emerge, and even existing ones would stagnate and fade.
Just as pre-regression humanity couldn't surpass level 99.
'Half the species vanishes.'
Not extinction, but equivalent population loss. The system forcibly 'dissolved' parts of the losing tribe—or exacted worse tolls.
Slavery.
Portions of the defeated tribe were offered as spoils to the victorious top ranks.
Against their will, branded with slavery on their souls, condemned to lifelong servitude—a humiliation worse than death.
And countless other curses would follow.
Territories shrink, powers weaken, branded 'losers' across the Abyss, reduced to prey for all others.
It meant forfeiting the demons' long-held hegemony over the Abyss entirely.
Ranking perks and penalties were absolute.
No lord or god could evade the system's verdict.
Ironically, they had made the system most robust and ruthless.
Originally, the Nine Great Lords wouldn't have meddled so deeply in the Tribal War.
To them, it was mere entertainment for lesser beings, a convenient tool for Abyss balance—not a stage worth staking their fates on.
Yet every choice had backfired catastrophically.
To eliminate one variable—Park Chan-woo—they intervened directly, only for that failure to position themselves as the biggest victims.
That name haunted their consciousnesses like a curse.
What was this guy?
Without a proper war against the demons, without spilling a drop of blood, simply walking his path.
And that result plunged the entire demon tribe into despair's abyss.
Yet even in that deep despair, a sliver of hope-like doubt flickered.
Yes. Authority came with responsibility.
If Park Chan-woo dropped the demons to the bottom, he'd instantly become the sworn enemy of the entire demon tribe.
Not just demons, either.
Every tribe he ranked low would multiply his enemies exponentially.
They recalled Park Chan-woo's actions.
He was more savior than destroyer.
Could such a being deliver cruel judgment, hurling countless tribes into ruin?
A new possibility emerged.
The blade in his hand was both judgment and the ultimate bargaining chip.
They began to harbor faint hopes.
That Park Chan-woo would dodge unbearable responsibility and choose pragmatism.
If so, despite heavy losses, they could avert the worst.
The Nine Great Lords held their breath once more, watching.
Waiting to see what choice that tiny human, who held their fates, would make.
In the instant his lips parted and closed, the Abyss's future hung.
But all their calculations and hopes shattered with Park Chan-woo's first words.
He didn't hesitate.
"2nd place."
His voice echoed across the silent battlefield.
"Dusk Clan."
In that instant, every gaze on the field locked onto the Dusk Clan.
Even the Dusk Clan warriors themselves stared in dumbfounded disbelief, doubting their ears.
An unexpected result.
Of course, the Dusk Clan had been the first to pledge loyalty to Park Chan-woo.
They'd volunteered as his shadow in the 'Forgotten God's Station' and stood by him in the final battlefield.
One of the Twelve Tribes, but never clinging to the top ranks.
2nd place was a first.
"Why... the Dusk Clan?"
A Giant Clan warrior muttered in discontent.
His thoughts echoed many others' sentiments.
'Just for kneeling first? Then this isn't a hierarchy of power, but of submission?'
Undeterred amid the chaos, Park Chan-woo continued.
"3rd place, Giant Clan."
"4th place, Heavenly Clan."
"5th place, Kirin Clan."
"6th place, Golden Lion Clan."
He announced the rankings without pause.
The five tribes allied with him claimed the top spots in turn.
The order was surprising, but it was clear they'd reap the benefits.
Next, he named tribes that had stayed neutral or offered token aid to humanity at the end.
His criterion seemed clear.
'Contribution to humanity.'
Not raw power or history, but pure friendliness toward him and humanity.
That alone was the yardstick of judgment.
Faces of the hostile alliance tribes turned ashen.
Their ranks kept sliding backward endlessly.
Then, another surprise slipped from Park Chan-woo's lips.
"13th place, Witches."
The arena buzzed once more.
Witches.
The black witches' creations, Adora's sisters.
Though absorbed by Adora in the end, they were legitimate Tribal War participants.
Crucially, they belonged to the demon faction.
13th place.
In the Tribal War, 13th held special meaning.
Just below the top 12, teetering on the penalty line, glimpsing next season's hope.
Park Chan-woo had shown a shred of mercy even to his enemies.
It was consideration for Adora. A wish for her to embrace her past fully and be reborn as the witches' new sovereign.
But to the ignorant hostile tribes, this sparked new hope.
'He won't just dump pure enemies at the bottom.'
'Maybe... a sliver of mercy remains.'
'Yeah, his actions were always unpredictable. We might have a shot.'
A tiny bud of expectation sprouted in their hearts.
That he'd judge their sins without delivering a fatal blow to their tribal fates.
A threadbare hope.
But all those expectations were crushed by Park Chan-woo's next words.
Having announced the top 13, he paused as if catching his breath.
Every being on the battlefield held their breath, focusing on the impending mid-to-lower ranks.
Then, Park Chan-woo spoke.
"Next..."
His voice sank low.
"...I'll reveal 128th place."
For a moment, everyone doubted their ears.
Not 14th, but 128th?
Announcing the very last place now?
In that split second as minds blanked, Park Chan-woo delivered his final judgment.
"128th place is..."
His gaze lifted beyond the sky.
Under every tribe's watch.
Quietly, he opened his mouth.
"Demons."