Chapter 470
Chapter 470
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 470
Chapter Title: Bahamut
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In an instant.
"......"
The air in the Temple of the Dragon God froze.
The Dragon God from two generations before the previous one.
Not even the immediate predecessor, but the one before that.
All the dragons present immediately grasped the weight of that single word.
There was no mistake.
It was a provocation, declaring himself the Dragon God of this very 'present' moment while branding Bahamut a relic from two eras past.
Bahamut's eyes trembled faintly for the first time.
A cold crack seemed to splinter through the mountain-like calm aura surrounding him.
Unbearable rage blazed like flames in the eyes of the seven Primordial Dragons standing behind him.
"Insolent wretch!"
A Primordial Dragon roared.
"How dare you spout such drivel before any being, you lowly human!"
Bahamut quietly raised a hand to silence him.
And spoke.
"Unless we acknowledge you, you can never become the Dragon God."
His voice was quiet yet authoritative.
The position of Dragon God could not be claimed by strength alone.
It was a sacred, inviolable domain, completed only through history, bloodline, and above all, the 'acknowledgment' of primordial beings like himself.
That was the sole law Bahamut knew.
But Park Chan-woo mocked that outdated creed.
He slowly rose from the jade throne.
And pointed at the assembled dragons.
"The qualifications to be Dragon God and Dragon Sovereign..."
Park Chan-woo's voice echoed through the entire Temple of the Dragon God.
"...are not for you to decide, Bahamut."
His gaze swept over the prostrated dragons one by one.
"They are decided by the hearts and wills of every dragon gathered here."
Park Chan-woo stared Bahamut down directly.
And smiled.
Utterly disregarding Bahamut's authority.
"In other words, your permission was never needed in the first place."
He had declared war.
Words that denied the dragon clan's age-old hierarchy from its very foundation.
A king was chosen by the people, not bestowed by heaven.
Their god must be the living reality standing before their eyes right now, not some distant echo of past glory.
Bahamut's eyes grew icy cold.
"...Foolish."
Deep disappointment laced his voice.
"You understand nothing of draconic pride or our history."
To Bahamut, the notion of the people's choice was nothing but childish folly, breeding chaos and division.
True order always flowed from above downward.
An absolute being charted the path, and the rest followed in silent obedience.
That was the most stable, perfect divine order.
"Order?"
Park Chan-woo scoffed.
"Wasn't Sepiro the end result of the 'order' you preach?"
"......"
Bahamut fell silent.
Park Chan-woo chuckled softly.
"You selected the perfect successor for your precious order. And what happened? Sepiro betrayed your expectations, plunged the dragon clan into chaos, and ultimately abandoned his own people to flee. Is that the 'great divine order' you boast of?"
Park Chan-woo took another step forward.
"Your era is over, Bahamut."
Admit it.
Your time has passed. It's outdated. Finished.
"What the dragon clan truly needs isn't some antiquated god lording over them from on high. It's a living king who understands their suffering, heeds their voices, and forges a new path alongside them."
"Mere sophistry. Do you think our dragon clan will hail an ignorant fool like you as their true king just because you string together pretty words?"
Bahamut was utterly confident.
As long as he stood here, Park Chan-woo could never become the true Dragon God.
"Right now, the dragons are merely dazzled by the miracle-like feats you pulled off in the Clan War."
His gaze roamed over the dragons below the throne, prostrated in confusion.
"But dragons are rational creatures by nature. Emotional sway is fleeting. In time, they'll see it all for the illusion it is—and how hollow the future you promise truly rings."
Bahamut's logic was ironclad.
The dragon clan was among the oldest and wisest races in the Abyss.
Their history stood firm on the bedrock of strength, order, and tradition.
What Park Chan-woo offered was a miracle, yes—but chaos as well.
His rejection of established order in favor of nebulous ideals like emotion and faith stood worlds apart from the rationality dragons had upheld for tens of thousands of years.
"In the end, every dragon will come back."
Bahamut declared firmly.
"They'll seek their true anchor—the unshakeable king bearing the full weight of history."
And that king was none other than himself.
"I have returned. To refill this empty throne, to restore order to our scattered clan. I will stand once more as Dragon God."
The seven Primordial Dragons at his side roared in unison, flaunting their majesty.
It was the moment the king of a bygone era proclaimed his triumphant return to all under heaven.
Yet Park Chan-woo, facing that grandiose declaration, merely let out a chuckle.
"Interesting."
His demeanor was utterly relaxed.
Bahamut's brow furrowed ever so slightly.
"So confident, are you? Very well, then..."
Park Chan-woo's eyes gleamed with boyish mischief.
"How about a little bet?"
"......A bet?"
"That's right—a bet."
Park Chan-woo gestured once more to every dragon below the throne.
"Between you and me, who truly deserves to be Dragon God? Why not let them decide directly?"
"...What are you saying?"
"Let's put it to a vote."
Park Chan-woo pressed on.
"We'll ask every dragon here—no, every dragon scattered across the Abyss. Who they choose as their new god."
It was precisely the method Bahamut scorned.
A radically irreverent proposal that struck at the heart of his absolute authority, handing everything over to the masses.
"......"
Bahamut fell silent for a moment.
His mind raced through every variable.
His reason screamed to refuse outright.
A king's authority wasn't decided by popular vote.
It was proven by bloodline, history, and overwhelming might.
But his instincts whispered otherwise.
Refusing the proposal here would mean admitting he feared the dragons' choice—doubting his own legitimacy.
Park Chan-woo had ensnared him in a flawless trap.
Acceptance brought humiliation; refusal, even more so. No escape.
"What's wrong, Dragon God of eras past? Afraid?"
Park Chan-woo's mocking tone pierced his torment.
"Scared the dragons' hearts have already abandoned you?"
"......Very well."
At last, Bahamut resolved himself.
Steeled determination filled his eyes.
"I accept your bet."
He had taken the bait.
Park Chan-woo had been waiting for Bahamut to show from the very start.
For a new god to rise, the old one had to be surpassed.
Sepiro had crumbled on his own, but Bahamut—the dragon clan's true root, the myth incarnate—was different.
Park Chan-woo knew better than anyone: without bending Bahamut and his Primordial Dragons through sheer force, true acknowledgment from the entire clan was impossible.
So he had waited.
And provoked.
Forcing the ancient wyrm from its lair to stand upon the judgment scaffold of its own accord.
But it was premature to grow overconfident.
"However, there are conditions."
Bahamut's voice doused the thrill of victory Park Chan-woo had tasted.
"The vote won't happen now. It'll be in one month."
One month.
That single phrase sharpened Park Chan-woo's gaze in an instant.
Bahamut was no fool.
He perfectly understood the dragons' current turmoil, their captivation by the new sun named Park Chan-woo.
A vote right now? Victory was far from assured.
But grant him one month, and the game changed.
"For that month, you and I will prove ourselves to the dragons our own ways. Who truly deserves to lead the clan."
The cunning wisdom of an elder dragon glinted in Bahamut's intent.
"Isn't this the truly fair bet? It gives them time to shed their emotional haze and judge with clear reason."
His reasoning was impeccable.
He had weaponized Park Chan-woo's own 'free will of the dragons' argument against him, rigging the board in his favor.
Should Park Chan-woo refuse, it would signal fear of rational scrutiny—admitting his rhetoric was nothing but sentimental pandering.
'......'
Park Chan-woo paused in silence.
His Clan War miracles had burned bright, but time would dim their shock and awe.
Bahamut would fill the void with eons of myth and history.
Dragons were rational. They would sooner cling to familiar stability than embrace uncertain novelty.
Refuse, and Bahamut would scrap the bet entirely.
In the end, this one month became...
...the invisible battlefield where two gods waged war for the dragon clan's hearts.
"......Fine."
Park Chan-woo accepted the challenge.
The bet for the Dragon God throne against Bahamut had begun.
One month remained.
An unprecedented vote in dragon clan history—for both 'Dragon God' and 'Dragon Sovereign'—was underway.