Chapter 472
Chapter 472
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 472
Chapter Title: New Dragon God
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He denied his own eyes, his own understanding, and the very laws of this world.
Bahamut was certain of his victory.
His feats and dignity were the history of the dragon race itself.
The hero of the Great War, the ruler of the Abyss, the unwavering guardian of order!
All those glorious titles pointed to him.
He believed a single month was more than enough time to etch that glory back into the minds of the dragons.
If he could just awaken their forgotten pride in the past, the dragons would naturally choose him.
That great race, armed with reason and rationality, would never abandon proven glory for an uncertain future.
Yet the result mocked all his arrogant certainties.
The dragons craved change over complacency.
Deep in their hearts, wounds and rage that Bahamut had desperately ignored were on the verge of bursting open.
Sepiro.
That name was no longer glory to the dragon race—it was an indelible humiliation, a trauma.
He had turned them into horrific outer gods, treated them like disposable pawns, and when their lives hung in the balance, he abandoned kingdom and people alike, fleeing beyond the great rift.
And who had placed such a monster on the throne of the Abyss?
Bahamut himself.
His achievements were all magnificent and glorious.
But the flaw of creating Sepiro—the worst stain in history—could never be erased.
And Bahamut refused to acknowledge that error.
He brandished only his shining accomplishments, trying to bury the most horrific shadow he had cast.
The dragons had grown sick of his arrogance.
What about Park Chan-woo, on the other hand?
He didn't bury it.
Instead, he dragged forgotten wounds into the light, forcing them to confront them anew.
But not to inflict pain.
He awakened the dragons' names, the existence of forgotten heroes.
The countless sacrifices erased from Bahamut's great history. The voices of the weak who groaned under Sepiro's tyranny.
Park Chan-woo didn't know the history of the dragon race.
But he laid the groundwork with the "Square of Memory," allowing those who did to remember more deeply, share their wounds, and comfort one another.
He healed the wounded souls of the dragons.
Two utterly different paths.
One tried to cover wounds with past glory alone; the other faced those past wounds head-on and sought healing together.
As Zero had said, the dragons began to move.
Their reason rejected settling for stale glory any longer.
They realized that for a true future, they must acknowledge past mistakes and seek new paths.
And only Park Chan-woo was showing them that new path.
Thus, the vote was extreme.
An overwhelming defeat.
Bahamut doubted his own eyes.
Just 5%.
Nearly every dragon except his seven primordial dragons and a tiny handful of blind followers had turned their backs on him.
"This can't... This can't be happening."
His perfect world was crumbling silently.
Everything he had built over a lifetime was being futilely denied by some nameless human outsider.
"I can't accept this!"
He erupted like a volcano.
"It must be rigged! That cunning human bastard must have pulled some vile trick!"
His roar shook the world.
But the absolute dignity of before was gone.
It held only the pathetic thrashing of an old king refusing defeat.
"Otherwise, how could the gap be this overwhelming!"
He was Bahamut.
The hero of the Great War. Ruler of the Abyss. The living myth of the dragon race.
A being who had never lost once in his life.
And now, to be defeated so miserably by this rootless outsider who appeared just a month ago?
His reason rejected the result.
This wasn't reality.
Clearly, Park Chan-woo had manipulated the dragons' minds without realizing it or tampered with the system to rig the vote.
But as his rage and distrust deepened, a completely different story—a rumor—quietly spread through the dragons' world.
An old dragon whispered softly to the others gathered in the Square of Memory.
"Do you remember that moment in the racial war when he shattered Sepiro's dragon tongue?"
Of course they did.
The awe-inspiring instant when Sepiro, manifested as a transcendent dragon, uttered a world-erasing dragon tongue, only for Park Chan-woo to call an unknown name and break that absolute law.
"The name he called then... 'Azathoth.'"
The old dragon's voice grew even lower.
"They say it's the name of a primordial dragon god erased from dragon history."
"......!"
The eyes of the listening dragons widened in shock.
Azathoth.
The Dull Father.
The primordial chaos that rejected order.
A name faintly preserved only in the forbidden tome accessible solely by the dragon god's successors, the oldest records of the dragon race—the first dragon god.
"No way... It can't be."
"But what if it's true? What if that human truly borrowed the power of the first dragon god, Azathoth?"
The rumor spread uncontrollably, tail to tail.
Park Chan-woo was acknowledged by the first dragon god.
No, perhaps he was the successor carrying its will.
If so, the one with the deepest "roots" as dragon god wasn't Bahamut or Sepiro, but Park Chan-woo.
His arrival wasn't an invasion by an outsider, but the "return" of the most ancient legitimacy.
The rumor naturally reached Bahamut's ears.
"...Nonsense!"
He dismissed it all as vile lies spread by Park Chan-woo to win the dragons' hearts.
But deep in his heart, unease was sprouting.
What if the rumor was true?
What if the dragon history he had upheld his whole life was built on a deeper truth he didn't know?
Then wouldn't he be the true "rootless one"?
Bahamut steadied his wavering heart.
No.
He couldn't waver.
He couldn't accept it.
He rose from the jade throne once more.
And, refusing to acknowledge his defeat, he began his final tantrum.
"This vote is invalid!"
It was utterly pathetic.
Denying the result of a bet he himself proposed and agreed to.
It was no different from throwing a fit.
"That cunning human corrupted the dragons' minds! This isn't a legitimate vote! I will personally execute that outsider and restore order to the dragon race!"
Bahamut led the primordial dragons and flew toward the Dragon God Temple where Park Chan-woo was.
Boiling with rage and humiliation.
But a sliver of confidence remained.
'Yes, it's not too late.'
No matter the vote, he could just crush him.
Himself and the seven primordial dragons—the eight strongest forces of the dragon race. United, they could smash that one human easily.
Dragons ultimately worshipped strength.
If he personally subjugated the human and exposed his weakness to all, the dragons' hearts would return to him.
This wasn't rebellion; it was a father's final rod to correct confused children.
Rationalizing it that way, he finally arrived before the massive doors of the Dragon God Temple.
But.
The moment they crossed the threshold, Bahamut and the primordial dragons could only stop in place, doubting their eyes.
The Dragon God Temple was already teeming with countless dragons.
They weren't fighting.
Nor training.
They were simply finding their places and sitting quietly.
Like subjects awaiting their new king's coronation.
Their eyes held no more confusion or anxiety.
Instead, they brimmed with deep peace and conviction, as if after long wandering, they had finally found their way home.
And all those gazes converged on the center—Park Chan-woo, seated on the jade throne.
Park Chan-woo showed no surprise at Bahamut's arrival.
Instead, he met him with calm eyes, as if he had been expecting it.
"......"
The moment Bahamut took one step into the Dragon God Temple.
All the dragons' gazes turned to him in unison.
And for the first time in his life, Bahamut received.
From his own people, eyes so cold and icy.
No respect.
Deep disappointment and pity, mingled with a hint of contempt.
'I......'
In that instant, Bahamut realized.
'...I've lost.'
That he had lost completely.
That he had suffered an irreversible defeat.
'I shouldn't have even started.'
He shouldn't have held the vote at all.
That overwhelming result had erased even the last lingering doubts, hesitations, and reluctance in the dragons' hearts.
95% was an indisputable, perfect "truth."
Before that truth, the dragons had finally united.
Under their new god, advancing toward a new era.
Bahamut was now.
Nothing but an outdated relic fit for a museum, belonging to no place in that new era.
If he wasn't accepted here.
If he denied the result.
There would be no turning back.
The dragons might even forcibly drag him down and attack.
No reversal.
Before the tide of a vast era, Bahamut was powerless.
He abandoned the arrogant notion of crushing everything with force.
He had to accept reality.
And to preserve even his last shred of pride, there was no path but to acknowledge defeat.
After a very long silence, Bahamut finally moved.
He nodded to his loyal primordial dragons.
Then, toward the new god on the jade throne, Park Chan-woo, he bowed his head very slowly, but with utmost courtesy.
Not submission.
It was the solemn rite of one era's king handing the throne to the next era's king.
"......I have lost."
His voice was low, but it rang clearly in the souls of every dragon in the temple.
"Your way defeated mine. The dragons... chose you."
Bahamut slowly raised his head.
"From now on, you will be the new sky of the dragon race. I acknowledge it."
Finally, he addressed Park Chan-woo on the throne one last time.
"New Dragon God. I congratulate you... on your ascension."
With those words, Bahamut turned away without regret.
The seven primordial dragons silently followed.
As their lonely figures vanished beyond the massive doors of the Dragon God Temple.
All the dragons below the throne rose as one, bowing their heads in final respect to Bahamut.
An era came to a close just like that.