Chapter 482
Chapter 482
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 482
Chapter Title: Balmun
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The ascent of the Tower of God.
Here, Park Chan-woo once again confronted forgotten tales.
Just as he had reclaimed the names of forgotten gods in the "Forgotten Gods' Station" during the Racial War.
Each floor of the Tower of God was like a grand museum housing the remnants of glorious pasts that no one remembered anymore.
In the Arena of Power, he had witnessed the primal traces of combat left by ancient giants. In the Corridor of Winds, he had felt the free-spirited dances of the wind spirits.
All of it was lost fragments of the Abyss—things that had vanished or been corrupted beyond recognition.
As Park Chan-woo stepped over those traces one by one, climbing higher, he began to think that this tower might not merely be a place of trials. It could be a massive ark, crafted by Lil to preserve the "memories" of the Abyss.
And finally, he reached the 99th floor—the endpoint of all those memories.
The moment he pushed open the door and stepped inside, he wasn't met with the colossal monster he had expected.
There was only a vast, empty expanse of pure white.
And in the center of that space stood a man, his back turned.
Snow-white hair draped over his shoulders, and the frayed hem of his worn black coat dragged motionless across the floor.
No overwhelming magic power emanated from him. No crushing presence.
Yet the instant Park Chan-woo laid eyes on that silhouette, a chilling sensation swept over him, making every hair on his body stand on end.
'Balmun.'
The calamity said to appear if the allotted time in the Tower of God ran out, destroying everything in its path.
He had imagined it as some mountain-sized behemoth.
But no.
The man turned slowly.
And as his face came into view, Park Chan-woo's heart plummeted.
It was eerily similar.
To his own.
Of course, their features weren't identical.
But when their eyes met, goosebumps prickled his skin.
Because of the power in those eyes?
No, it was something more fundamental—a profound "resonance."
A magnetic pull drawing one to the other.
'What the hell is this feeling?'
As Park Chan-woo struggled to make sense of it amid his confusion, Balmun finally spoke.
His voice was rough and parched, like that of someone who had forgotten how to speak long ago.
"......You've finally come."
A single phrase.
Park Chan-woo swallowed dryly without realizing it.
Balmun's hollow gaze fixed on him.
Those eyes held no emotion.
But Park Chan-woo could read the agony and regret piled up over eons, lurking just beyond that emptiness.
And then.
"I am."
Balmun spoke very slowly, but with a weight heavier than any truth in the world.
"You from the future."
"......Me from the future?"
Park Chan-woo's mind went blank.
A torrent of hypotheses rose and faded.
Him from the future?
He had regressed through countless lives.
But in none of them had he reached the future looking like that.
They had all ended in failure.
In some lives, obsession with power led to ruin. In others, trust in comrades brought betrayal. In yet more, he had abandoned everything and died in despair.
The end of every path was always the "extinction" of humanity.
In the futures he remembered, there was no version of "himself" surviving in such a desolate state, staring down his past self with empty eyes.
"What nonsense."
Park Chan-woo muttered lowly.
This had to be another trial prepared by the tower.
A cunning trap designed to exploit his deepest anxieties and traumas, shattering his mind.
A mirror reflecting the future, or some illusion-creating power.
But his senses detected no deceptive aura of that sort.
The being before him felt far too "real."
Every breath he exhaled, every subtle movement, perfectly aligned with the laws of this space.
Still, he couldn't take Balmun's words at face value.
At that moment, Balmun spoke again.
"This karmic bond is absolute."
His voice echoed like an oracle decreeing an unchangeable fate.
"I failed. And at the end of that failure, I became part of this tower, trapped in an eternal curse of reliving the past. You are my past. I am your future. This wretched cycle can never be broken."
For the first time, a faint emotion flickered in his hollow eyes.
Viscous hatred.
"That's why I'll kill you here."
"......"
"Only when you die will this endless torment of mine finally end."
With those words, a black aura began to rise from Balmun's body, like ink spreading through water.
Park Chan-woo furrowed his brow.
Further conversation was pointless.
Whatever that being truly was, one fact was clear: it intended to kill him now.
He didn't hesitate.
He chose the fastest, most certain way to verify the truth before him.
"Heavenly Punishment."
From Park Chan-woo's fingertips, a spear of blue lightning shot forth.
But Balmun's face showed no surprise or dismay at the sight.
If anything, as if it were the most natural thing, he extended his hand in kind.
"Heavenly Punishment."
Rumble!
From Balmun's fingertips erupted the same spell—yet incomparably denser and more ferocious.
His lightning wasn't blue, but a deep crimson-black infused with abyssal darkness.
Two Heavenly Punishments.
Identical, yet worlds apart—the two magics clashed at the heart of the pristine 99th floor.
Kaboom!
A deafening roar as if space itself screamed and tore.
But the expected explosion never came.
Instead of annihilating each other, the spells repelled like water and oil, neutralizing one another right there.
Park Chan-woo's eyes widened in shock.
His magic had been blocked.
By the exact same spell.
'It's real.'
Not mere mimicry.
The structure of the magic, the flow of mana, even the will embedded within.
Everything was perfectly identical to his own.
Like staring at his reflection in a mirror.
No—even more so.
Balmun's magic carried something extra that he lacked.
Resentment and despair accumulated over endless ages.
That venomous darkness twisted his spell, making it even more potent.
In that instant, Park Chan-woo had no choice but to acknowledge it.
The being before him wasn't an illusion or a fake.
He really was...
'......Me.'
But at the same time.
'I don't remember this.'
Through countless lives, he had never reached such a future.
In the records of all his failures, there was no "him" surviving so wretchedly, consumed by hatred for his past self.
As if reading Park Chan-woo's turmoil, Balmun spoke again.
"You cannot defeat the Destroyer."
Park Chan-woo couldn't help furrowing his brow.
But Balmun's words didn't end there.
"No—before he even fully reveals himself, you'll shatter first."
Balmun smiled for the first time.
"You've shouldered too much. Humanity's faith, the dragonkin’s hopes, the pleas of the forgotten. It all makes you shine, but it will also become the chains that devour you. You won't bear the weight. You'll crumble from within. Just like me."
A curse, and at the same time, a vividly real account from experience.
Instead of replying, Park Chan-woo tightened his grip on Baal's sword.
No more words were needed.
Boom!
His body shot toward Balmun like a streak of light.
'Progressive Acceleration.'
His speed kept building.
But Balmun evaded with effortless poise, as if it were inevitable.
No—it wasn't evasion.
'......He knows me.'
He anticipated every move, always one step ahead.
Park Chan-woo twisted his blade into unpredictable strikes, but Balmun's sword was always there first.
Clang! Clang!
The clash of metal filled the empty space.
In the unrelenting fight, Park Chan-woo realized a despairing truth.
Balmun was superior in every way—just by a fraction.
For every step he took, Balmun was already half a step ahead.
When he swung with all his might, Balmun parried with slightly greater force.
It felt like battling an insurmountable wall, instilling utter helplessness.
"It's futile."
Balmun whispered as their swords locked.
"Every move you make, every thought in your head—even the breath you'll take next. I know it all. How could you ever defeat yourself?"
His words pierced Park Chan-woo's heart like daggers.
But he didn't give up.
Instead, a fierce resolve ignited within him.
"......Shut up."
Park Chan-woo poured everything he had into the tip of his blade.
But Balmun mocked it all.
"That's your limit."
He casually deflected the sword and kicked Park Chan-woo square in the chest.
"You always lean on the past. Your experiences, your knowledge. But that's also the prison that binds you. You can never become more than what you already know."
Thud!
Park Chan-woo's body slammed into the wall.
His bones cracked.
But he gritted his teeth and rose again.
And made his decision.
If.
If that being truly was his failed future self.
Then.
"I'll surpass that future."
Park Chan-woo's eyes burned colder and fiercer than ever before.
"Right here, right now."
He resolved no longer to be bound by his past self.
He would discard everything he knew, everything he had built—in this moment.
And forge a completely new path, one no one had tread—not even his "future self."
Right here.
Otherwise, he couldn't win.
Not just against Balmun.
To advance toward a better future.
And also.
'The Destroyer.'
To defeat that monster.
He needed to surpass himself.