The Shredding Typhoon
The skies above the golden city twisted.
Kwaaaaaa!
The clouds tore apart.
A massive whirlwind surged up, devouring even the light of the artificial sun.
It was the authority of destruction itself—ripping space to shreds.
A typhoon that tore everything to pieces.
The staff roared in ecstasy, having met its true master.
"……!"
Heimdall's shoulders trembled.
He shuddered.
It had taken him, too, a full ten years to fully wield this staff.
Countless trials and errors, deep communion—it had demanded all that.
And yet this guy?
With a single gesture.
In that fleeting instant, he had perfectly subjugated the staff.
Overwhelming talent.
Even those words fell short.
This was a difference in class.
Heimdall was certain.
Disaster aptitude: zero points?
Ridiculous.
It wasn't because his vessel was empty.
It was because his capacity was so vast that no measly gauge could contain it.
Inevitable Force.
Suddenly, the name of the Absolute God that the boy had uttered came to mind.
Perhaps he truly was timber worthy of that name.
An unstoppable power.
Talent that overwhelmed everything.
He's more than worthy to be my first Apostle God.
Heimdall's eyes gleamed with desire.
This was the one.
This boy could succeed him as an apostle—no lacks there.
A position he had never granted to anyone before.
Rag was more than qualified.
He looked at Rag.
The boy was rigid.
Veins bulged on the hand gripping the staff, his expression frozen solid, not a twitch.
Moved to tears?
Heimdall chuckled.
It was understandable.
A low-tier god grasping a supreme god's cherished weapon.
He couldn't contain the overwhelming emotion.
Or perhaps his body was briefly stiffened by the backlash of summoning the typhoon.
Thwack.
Heimdall placed a hand on Rag's shoulder.
Friendly contact unimaginable in normal times.
"Congratulations."
It was sincere.
No pretense or hypocrisy—just praise from a senior god.
"You've surpassed my expectations."
Other gods would have gasped at the sight.
The arrogant, cantankerous Heimdall offering such warmth to a mere second-floor fledgling.
But Heimdall didn't care.
Rag had earned it.
This one could shake the tower to its core.
Stagnant waters breed rot.
Asgard had grown too still, too dull.
The gods rested on their laurels, rejecting change.
But not this one.
He would become a true typhoon.
A clarion call to sweep through this dreary tower and shake the sleeping gods by the throat.
Rag didn't reply.
He just stared into the void, face still set.
Heimdall found even that silence commendable.
A weighty fellow.
He liked the prudence that kept idle chatter at bay.
"Its use is simple."
Heimdall kindly added an explanation.
"This staff allows remote projection. No need to be on-site."
He pointed to the crystal at the floor's center.
"Display the map on the crystal, mark your desired coordinates. Swing the staff, and a typhoon drops there. Anywhere in your territory."
Strategic bombing.
The power to rain calamity on enemies from your seat.
The authority of a ruler.
"You've drained a lot of power, so rest up."
Heimdall patted Rag's shoulder.
A satisfied smile on his face, he turned away.
"Ah, and one more thing."
As if something had just occurred to him, he turned back.
"Lately, there's some unknown entity hunting low-tier gods inside the tower. The investigators are struggling, so at least prepare minimal defenses."
Final advice.
Nothing more to say.
Rag had proven himself.
Whiiiiiing!
With the wind, Heimdall vanished.
His overwhelming divinity lifted, and peace returned to the golden city.
Bluebirds chirped again, hot spring mists rose.
But.
"……."
Rag didn't move.
Even after Heimdall left, he stood like a statue.
Heimdall was gone.
But I couldn't move.
The staff in my hand.
This divine artifact—Staff of the Shredding Typhoon, its very name lethal—was vibrating into my palm like it was burrowing in.
The bet had paid off.
Too easily.
Fragment of the Broken Golden Rule.
I'd sold just that one piece.
Gained a million Nectar, poured it all into the second floor.
The floor's grade has been upgraded to A-rank!
The amount of Nectar given every 30 days increases by 300%!
The quality of items purchasable from the crystal has been upgraded!
The result: A-rank achieved.
Every 30 days, Nectar payouts jumped 300%.
From 100 to 300—not much, but as floors climbed, that multiplier would explode exponentially.
Best of all, the shop unlocked.
High-grade beasts, special terrain, rare resources—only available on A-rank+ floors.
Normal gods would fortify with these: traps, monsters to repel invaders.
But not me.
I turned it into a resort.
Defense? Offense?
Pointless.
I had the Typhoon God Heimdall's protection.
He descended personally, gifted a divine artifact.
Once word spread, no bold god would dare invade.
Absolute safe zone, at least for now.
So I focused on "nurturing."
A sanctuary for me and my followers to recover.
A training ground to forge elites.
No sloppy numbers game.
Quality only.
Pierce the tower with a few refined elites.
That was the plan.
"……."
Thoughts ended there.
I lowered my head to the staff.
Heimdall kept his word.
Handed over the thing that took him ten years to tame, no fuss.
The moment I gripped it, I knew.
How to use it.
Inject mana, swing.
The gem at the tip calculates coordinates, projects a typhoon.
Test swing.
Skies ripped, typhoon raged.
Heimdall marveled.
Showered praise.
But I couldn't smile.
Even his parting advice fell on deaf ears.
My eyes fixed on the heavens, the swirling typhoon.
This wind.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
Not some mere natural storm.
That unique spin.
Winds like razor blades shredding space.
I'd seen it before.
On TV breaking news.
Front-page internet articles.
And in nightmares repeated thousands of times in my dreams!
-Ring ring.
The phone chime echoed like an auditory hallucination.
That day.
Parents' wedding anniversary trip.
Their last sight: happy smiles as they left.
-Hello? Is this Kim Jeong-seok?
The voice on the line was dry.
Bureaucratic.
All the crueler for it.
-Regrettably... the plane crashed.
-What?
-Encountered unexpected turbulence over the Pacific. Or rather, a typhoon.
Typhoon.
A freak super-typhoon, unforecasted.
A ghostly wind invisible to radar.
-Survivors... still checking, but prepare yourself.
No preparing for that.
News covered it nonstop.
Horrific.
The passenger jet didn't crash.
It disintegrated mid-air.
Like ground in a massive blender.
Body recovery?
Impossible.
Rescue found only unidentifiable flesh chunks and shredded clothes.
No telling who was who.
DNA tests pointless—mangled beyond recognition.
Funeral hall had an empty casket.
I stood blankly before the portrait.
No tears came.
Just stared at the void coffin, thinking.
What wind could shred people, a metal plane like that.
The sole survivor: Park Haya.
Her living was a miracle.
No—miracle didn't cover it.
Ending with a crushed spine in that hell of razor winds? Divine intervention only explanation.
But.
This was before the Cataclysm.
I bit my lip.
Tasted blood.
The crash: March 14, 2026—long before the tower appeared.
Before gods invaded Earth.
Before disaster gods made avatars.
So I believed it natural.
Bad luck.
Heaven's whim, unavoidable.
Convinced myself.
Yet.
"……."
I gripped the staff tighter.
Heimdall's words flashed.
-This staff allows remote projection.
-Display the map on the crystal, mark coordinates.
-Typhoon drops there.
Coordinates.
Remote projection.
And Shredding Typhoon.
Puzzle clicked.
Perfectly chilling.
What if.
Gods didn't appear on Cataclysm day suddenly?
If they'd watched Earth before?
From tower tops, Asgard thrones, peering down.
For boredom, or testing.
Drop authority on specific Earth coordinates.
Like spamming skills in a game.
Was it you?
You who unleashed this vile typhoon on my parents' plane.
Heimdall.
Typhoon God.
Ruler of all creation.
...The culprit?
A divine artifact not easily used.
Hard to imagine another wielding it.
"……Ha."
Laughter escaped.
Not hollow.
Killing intent so thick it leaked as a laugh.
I looked up.
Glared at the empty sky where Heimdall vanished.
He liked me.
...Not time to bare claws yet.
I schooled my face.
Stored the staff in inventory.
He's strong.
Charge now? Dog's death.
Build power.
Keep him unsuspicious.
Make him trust, draw me close.
Act flawlessly.
Loyal junior god.
Ambitious prospect.
And at the pivotal moment.
From the highest perch, shove him down.
Nothing changes.
I planned to annihilate the tower's gods anyway.
Not one spared. Every last one.