Chapter 491
Chapter 491
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 491
Chapter Title: The Greatest Thing
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Park Chan-woo had already experienced soul synchronization countless times.
When he connected with the egg of the Destroyer Signus dwelling in Han Min-oh's body, he felt the divine beast's immense rage and maternal love.
When he linked with the owner of the cradle on the Mountain of Cultivators, he glimpsed the twisted sense of mission of the evil god who called the Abyss a prison.
Beyond that, he had stepped into the mental worlds of all sorts of beings—from Kahnkun's soul and Arcana's despair to even the arrogance of Dragon God Sepiro—and confronted their very essences.
And none of them had surpassed him.
Park Chan-woo's mind and soul had reached a realm so profoundly distant and supreme that even they dared not challenge it.
The boundary between life and death, repeated endlessly.
The weight of humanity's extinction, borne alone through eons of time.
All that despair and solitude had honed his soul, forging it into a vessel of unmatched strength and depth, incomparable to any other existence in this world.
Would the Lord of Intelligence be any different?
From the start, the Lord of Intelligence had misjudged the trial.
He had deluded himself into thinking he had pierced Park Chan-woo's essence.
Seeing his negative level and deficiencies, he had wrongly assumed his mind was equally frail.
He had been confident that his own perfection could easily absorb this imperfect being.
But the result was the exact opposite.
In trying to absorb Park Chan-woo, he had been absorbed instead.
Whooooosh...
The space where the Lord of Intelligence had existed.
His form had vanished without a trace.
The Lord of Intelligence dissolved into light and poured into Park Chan-woo.
This was on an entirely different level from acquiring the "Stigma of Intelligence."
It was a far more fundamental inheritance.
He wasn't merely gaining the "power" left behind by the Lord of Intelligence—he was absorbing the being itself.
Park Chan-woo sank into a deep sea of enlightenment.
'I can see it. I can feel it.'
He saw it.
How the world began.
The intent with which the Creator had shaped this Abyss.
And he heard it too.
The primordial language sung by the stars. The unique soul waves emitted by all living things!
What he had only vaguely "felt" before now etched itself into his mind as crystal-clear "information."
'Magic power wavelength.'
He finally "understood" magic power wavelengths.
The concept that had always been so abstract.
The thing he had only vaguely thought was tied to essence and soul.
It was the soul's fingerprint.
The flesh rots and decays in the end, but the soul, under the laws of the Abyss, repeatedly reincarnates along the river of rebirth.
Through that endless journey, the soul accumulates countless experiences, feels myriad emotions, and forms innumerable bonds.
All that time etches faint traces into the soul, like a sculptor's chisel.
Layer upon layer across eons, until it forms a pattern utterly unique, one-of-a-kind, unlike any other existence.
Of course, this fingerprint didn't dwell only in living beings.
Everything in the world had a magic power wavelength.
Even a common roadside pebble bore the waves of its long history—billions of years battered by wind and rain, existing as part of the earth.
So, if one could perfectly see, hear, and understand these wavelengths, what uses might it have?
'I can discern it. I can distinguish true beings from false ones.'
For example, there was no need to rely on tools like the "Radiant Glasses of Dantalion."
By reading any existence's magic power wavelength alone, he could pierce straight to its deepest essence.
Lies and disguises became meaningless.
He could instantly detect even the slightest mismatch between words or actions and the soul's waves.
Transformation magic or illusions were the same.
The outer appearance could change, but not the unique fingerprint etched into the soul.
Park Chan-woo could now distinguish the essence of all beings.
And moreover.
'The primordial language.'
The true reward from devouring the Lord of Intelligence.
This was the domain of the "Archmage."
Until now, Park Chan-woo had manifested power by borrowing the world's laws through fixed "spells" and "magic circles."
But no longer.
Magic power wavelengths were the primordial language forming the foundation of the world.
Now, he could wield that language directly.
In other words...
'...the language of the primordial dragon god Azathoth.'
More precisely.
'The tongue used by beings like him. I can now interpret and understand everything left behind by the true primordial existences.'
Ah.
I get it. This is the language of the Creator.
The chaotic dawn when the Abyss was first forged.
The language used by the primordial beings who communed directly with the Creator and shared his will.
A language now lost, or forgotten.
When their era ended and new overlords like Bahamut, Sepiro, and the demons arose, their tongue was dismissed as mythical gibberish, incomprehensible.
New laws and orders buried the old language, until no one in the Abyss remembered the primordial voice.
But the language hadn't vanished.
It lingered like fossils in the deepest layers of every existence's magic power wavelengths, merely dormant.
Park Chan-woo could now breathe life into those fossils, awakening the slumbering primordial voice.
He would understand the true meanings of the ancient ruins and artifacts scattered throughout the Abyss—the incomprehensible glyphs and symbols etched within.
Thus, Park Chan-woo's "intelligence" had transcended to a realm incomparable to before.
He began to "perceive" the world.
His pure intelligence value exploded upward, and his mind became incomparably clearer and deeper than before.
'Pure intelligence is now 500 too.'
Even after absorbing the Lord of Intelligence whole, the result mirrored the transcendence of his other stats—capped at 500.
This was likely the limit his current vessel could contain.
But there was one difference: the "hidden trait."
The power to interpret the primordial language and pierce the world's essence.
A qualitative change beyond comparison with mere stat increases.
Park Chan-woo looked up at the peak of the Tower of Gods, its summit still unseen.
'The Transcender Lil took what belonged to the Creator's domain, they said.'
I think I understand.
Then this Tower of Gods and the five lords must also be creations of the Creator.
Their existences and the tower's laws should likewise be written in the Creator's language.
Park Chan-woo's gaze turned to the space at the summit where the five lords resided.
Beyond their thrones, he beheld the faint lines of light etched into the very fabric of space.
Intricate as a massive circuit diagram, filled with unreadable symbols.
But now, Park Chan-woo knew what they were.
'The primordial language.'
The Creator's message, obscured by the five thrones.
Instinctively, he tried to read it.
But like fog-shrouded mist, most of the message remained hidden.
The five lords themselves formed a vast curtain, veiling the Creator's truth.
Power, stamina, agility, intelligence.
Four veils had lifted, but one remained.
'Only by surpassing all the lords can I finally see everything.'
The moment he steeled his resolve, the final lord appeared before him.
Rumble...
A wave of pure power.
A colossal form of blue lightning.
'The Lord of Magic Power.'
The very being who had acknowledged Park Chan-woo and led him to the Mountain of Cultivators.
Unlike the previous lords, the Lord of Magic Power's voice held no enmity or intent to test.
If anything, it carried a sense of joy, like greeting one long awaited.
Park Chan-woo voiced the long-held question in his heart.
"Why did you send me to the Mountain of Cultivators?"
It couldn't have been mere whim.
The Lord of Magic Power's form rippled softly.
His answer was surprisingly simple.
Park Chan-woo had always been walking a precarious tightrope.
The powers dwelling within him were so vast and alien that a single misstep could cause them to clash and collapse his very existence.
"Did you know the Mountain of Cultivators had been corrupted by demons?"
His voice grew heavy.
Choice. A choice.
The previous four lords had given him "trials."
But the Lord of Magic Power spoke of a "choice."
Soon, from the heart of the Lord of Magic Power, an orb emitting two opposing lights emerged.
The Lord of Magic Power posed his final question.
His lightning finger pointed to the first "core."
It was the most perfect, sweetest answer to an endless thirst for power.
The absolute strength to surpass Sepiro and confront the Destroyer.
Then his finger pointed to the second "core."
The Lord of Magic Power's voice paused briefly.
And then.