Ripples in the Gods' Garden
A faint ripple stirred in the gods' garden.
Kuuuung.
The nectar in their glasses sloshed.
The gods set down the fruits they had been bringing to their lips.
The Muses' hands halted mid-performance on their instruments.
Silence.
Hundreds of gazes turned toward the floor all at once.
More precisely, piercing through it to the dizzying depths of the first underground floor.
"……What was that just now?"
Someone broke the silence.
An aura of a different caliber had surged up from below.
"The Chamber of Selection?"
"The summoning ritual should be underway."
"A wave like this… Don't tell me it's a jackpot?"
Jackpot.
The gods buzzed with excitement.
In the system, the dice rolled from 1 to 100.
But that was merely the surface number.
The odds of rolling 100?
Exactly one in 1,373,248.
Not even one in a million.
Throughout the tower's history, only five beings had ever hit the jackpot at the seed stage.
And three of those five?
They were the supreme gods now reigning as chairs in this very top chamber.
"A guy born with the qualities of a king, that's what."
"Who is it? Was there a talent like that among the new seeds?"
The curiosity didn't last long.
A herald spirit sliced through the air and flew in.
A urgent voice echoed through the garden.
A Named has been summoned in the 1st Floor Chamber of Selection!
Summoner: Rag!
The summoned entity is… the Disaster Dragon, 'Angragon'!
In that instant.
The gods' expressions hardened.
"……The Disaster Dragon?"
"You mean the one I know?"
"One of the primordial dragons, isn't it?"
The Disaster Dragon.
A monster infamous among the primordial dragons for its ferocity and overwhelming power.
But the most crucial fact was this.
'This tower has no record of it.'
There was no 'Disaster Dragon' in the tower's monster database.
In other words, it had been forcibly dragged in from outside the dimension.
Luck alone wouldn't cut it.
The summoner's talent had to be monstrous enough to handle a being of that caliber.
Swoosh.
The gods' gazes converged on one spot.
In the corner of the garden, a man sitting with his legs crossed arrogantly.
Toward Heimdall, the god of typhoons.
"Heimdall."
"Isn't 'Rag' that guy you brought in?"
Heimdall tilted his glass instead of answering.
The smirk on his lips was insufferably smug.
"Luck is skill too, no?"
The gods clicked their tongues at his attitude.
Glares laced with jealousy and envy.
They had waited centuries without snagging such an outstanding seed, yet Heimdall had picked one up from outside.
A monster that hit jackpot right from the start, no less.
"Hmph. We'll see."
One god crossed his arms and snorted.
"Hitting jackpot doesn't mean everyone climbs to the top."
It was true.
Of the five jackpot winners in history, three became gods.
The other two met tragic ends.
Overconfident in their luck and talent, they were devoured pathetically.
"A Disaster Dragon, huh. Impressive card, sure…"
"But dragons bite their masters if they can't handle them."
"It won't acknowledge him as master anyway."
"Might self-destruct in the Chamber of Selection."
The gods downplayed his feat.
Yet thick curiosity lingered.
An undeniable anticipation.
A guy who beat one-in-a-million odds.
A guy who claimed a primordial calamity.
How far would this seed grow?
Or would it snap before sprouting?
The latter was more likely.
Especially now.
The current 'seeds' were hungrier than ever before.
Their conditions were top-notch too.
No way they'd let a lone outlier like 'Rag' run free.
A nail that sticks out gets hammered down.
The dust settled.
Everyone held their breath.
I did too.
When the altar shattered and the black pillar erupted, I'd been excited.
A colossal dragon blotting out the sky.
A beast that could obliterate this temple with one breath—I'd imagined it.
But.
-……Yaaawn.
Atop the rubble pile.
A fist-sized creature stretched its mouth wide in a yawn.
Black scales.
Cute little wings on its back.
Round eyes.
Anyone could see it was a hatchling lizard—no, a baby dragon fresh from the egg.
"……."
Silence.
The seeds' eyes bulged.
I narrowed mine too.
'This is the Disaster Dragon?'
What a grandiose name.
But I couldn't let my guard down.
The breath from its yawn.
That tiny puff of smoke was corroding the stone floor pitch-black.
'Confirmed.'
I lowered my stance to meet its eye level.
My mage's knowledge flashed warnings.
Magic and dragons were inseparable.
Thus, I knew quite a bit about dragons.
Though my knowledge of primordial ones was shallow.
One thing was certain.
The most ill-tempered and powerful dragons.
Living calamities that razed continents upon appearing.
Off-the-charts existences: the Disaster Dragons.
GuGu cried out in a shriek.
"D-Disaster Dragon?!"
The penguin's eyes nearly popped out.
"It's the first! The very first entity summoned since the tower was built! H-How many points do I even…?!"
The Abyss Dragon was 95 points.
But the Disaster Dragon? First of its kind.
No data to score it.
Literally immeasurable.
"……Summon successful, but will it…?"
"……Yeah. Gaining mastery is a whole other issue."
Someone muttered.
The seeds nodded.
Right.
Summoning wasn't the end.
True summoning meant subjugating the entity.
Especially a Named.
Monsters with names had sky-high pride.
No way it'd accept a mere seed—let alone a non-god—as master.
"Gonna get eaten."
"No controlling that monster."
Pessimistic predictions poured in.
Indeed, Angragon stared up at me blankly.
Red eyes.
Curiosity? Or appetite?
I chuckled softly.
Fear?
Screw that.
Any hint of fear, and it'd sense it instinctively.
It wouldn't follow me.
I reached out immediately.
Right to its snout.
"Crazy! He's reaching out!"
"His wrist's gonna fly off!"
Regardless of the panicked shouts around me.
I extended my index finger and tapped its forehead.
"Angragon."
It tilted its head.
I grinned.
"You got kidnapped."
"……?"
Its eyes widened round.
Kidnapped.
First time hearing it, probably.
But I was brazen.
"I kidnapped you. So behave."
A brief silence.
Sniff sniff.
Then Angragon sniffed my finger.
And.
Swoosh.
It started rubbing its head against my palm.
Grrr…….
Like a pleased cat.
Purring from its throat.
"……Gasp?!"
"N-No way!"
Shock.
An impossibility unfolded.
A Named.
A being of another league, another dimension.
Acting cute to a mere seed?
'…Good.'
I sighed inwardly in relief and stroked its head.
I could guess why.
All affinities MAX.
Especially the Disaster Devourer class.
For a Disaster Dragon like it, no existence could feel more familiar than me.
"There, good boy."
I scratched its chin, and it rolled over, exposing its belly.
Perfect submission.
GuGu, who had been staring blankly, snapped to and raised its wings high.
The commotion died down.
But the gazes on me still burned.
Awe, jealousy, fear.
Natural.
The other seeds topped out at 80s or 90s.
Not a single one broke 100.
Me? Solo 200.
Overwhelming first place.
Starting gap too wide.
"Okay, everyone, calm down!"
GuGu flapped its wings to refocus attention.
"It's not over yet. Summoning's just auxiliary! A god's true power lies elsewhere."
GuGu pointed into the air.
Swoosh.
A transparent crystal orb floated up.
"The second trial: Disaster Aptitude evaluation."
Disaster Aptitude.
The stage to gauge the type of divine authority one could wield.
I listened with arms crossed.
"Gods' authorities fall into three main categories."
GuGu spread its wings one by one as it explained.
"First, 'Nature'. Typhoons, earthquakes, tsunamis, volcanic eruptions—powers of great nature. Highest destructive force and range, top-tier."
Guys like Heimdall or Kartal fell here.
The most common, potent, textbook disasters.
"Second, 'Bio'. Plagues, curses, poisons—forces that gnaw at life insidiously."
Past gods of the Black Death or plague lords.
Low direct destruction, but pros at withering civilizations.
"Third, 'Material'. Explosions, collapses, asphyxiation—manipulating physical phenomena."
Toughest in 1v1s.
GuGu tapped the orb.
"Place your hand on this orb, and your latent aptitude shows as color. Deeper color means greater talent. Let's begin!"
The seeds lined up tensely.
First up: the goblin guy who'd summoned the hellfire wolf earlier.
"Haaap!"
He placed his hand with a kiai.
Fwoosh!
The orb blazed red.
A fairly deep crimson.
"Ooh! Aptitude for 'Volcano' and 'Explosion'! Excellent. 85 points!"
The goblin clenched his fist at GuGu's call.
Emboldened seeds stepped up one by one.
"Me?"
Fwaaah.
Blue light swirled.
"Torrential Rain and Flood aptitude! Nature type. 88 points!"
"Please……."
Crackle.
Green light oozed stickily.
"Hm, Decay and Poison. Bio type. Not bad. 75 points."
Evaluations continued.
Most were faint colors or average shades.
Rare deep ones drew cheers.
But none topped 90.
And finally.
"Next, Rag sir."
My turn.
The chamber hushed instantly.
All eyes locked on my hand.
'What aptitude does that monster have?'
'200 in summoning means insane aptitude too, right?'
Anticipation weighed heavy on the air.
I smirked and walked to the podium.
'Aptitude, huh.'
I was curious too.
I'd spent 100 million SP maxing all attributes and talents.
Theoretically, every color should emerge.
Or maybe rainbow?
"This is exciting."
GuGu's eyes sparkled.
I placed my hand on the crystal orb without hesitation.
Thud.
Cold to the touch.
No need to inject mana.
It reacted the moment I touched it.
But.
"……Huh?"
Someone voiced doubt.
No light.
No red, blue, green.
Ssssss…….
Black mist rose from within the orb.
It wasn't emitting light—it was devouring the surrounding glow.
The entire orb turned pitch black in seconds.
No, black beyond black, like a void piercing space itself.
"……."
Silence.
Different from Angragon's summoning.
That was shock; this was confusion and bewilderment.
"What is that?"
"Black? Was there a black?"
"Is it broken?"
Murmurs grew.
Nature, Bio, Material.
No mention of 'black' anywhere.
Too alien for shadow affinity.
Like a black hole swallowing all.
"Hmm……."
GuGu scratched its head awkwardly with a wing.
Even the manager seemed to see this first.
"Usually, no talent means transparent or white……."
GuGu tilted its head.
Then cautiously spoke.
"This is… close to 'Nothingness'."
"Nothingness?"
"Yes. No disaster qualities at all. No destruction, corruption, or physical interference. Just… empty."
Empty.
At those words, the seeds' expressions twisted oddly.
"What, a bust?"
"All-in on summoning, huh."
"Figures, no god masters everything."
"Just lucky jackpot."
Sighs of relief.
And sneers.
Gazes that saw me as a monster now downgraded me to 'lucky punk'.
GuGu looked ambiguous too as it concluded.
"Per regulations, unclassifiable aptitude can't be scored. Plus, no power to cause disasters detected……."
GuGu held up a sign.
0 Points
0 points.
The moment a madman was born who scored both 200 and 0 in Chamber of Selection history.
"Puhahaha!"
"Zero! He got zero!"
The dark elf burst into laughter first.
Others joined the cackling.
The fear from Angragon was gone.
Gods are fair, balance restored, they blabbered.
But my expression didn't change.
I knew why black emerged.
'I'm not one who creates disasters—I devour them.'
Black.
Emptiness.
Of course.
My authority doesn't 'create' disasters.
It 'devours' them.
Fire, water, poison, explosions.
A power that swallows all disasters and makes them mine.
Black is the color of 'Predation'.
Mix all colors, get black—like how I consume all disasters, my aptitude had to be black.
'…0 points.'
Strategically, not bad.
Perfect score to lower their guards.
A half-baked seed relying on its summon.
That's their verdict on me.
Only issue.
'The bet with Heimdall.'
I needed overwhelming first for Floor 1.
Otherwise, even reaching it meant death by Heimdall.
"Hahaha!"
Roaring laughter shook the gods' garden.
Valhalla's solemn air lightened in a heartbeat.
"Zero points! Actual zero?!"
"Highest and lowest scores at once—legendary in its own right!"
The gods rolled clutching bellies.
Tension from Angragon's summon? Vanished.
To them, Rag was no 'threatening rookie'.
Just a lucky fool.
A 'clown' with zilch personal ability.
"Tower's fair after all."
"Used all luck on summoning."
"Will strut on summon then get sacrificed. Tsk tsk."
Mockery and derision.
The gods fixated on numbers.
Didn't care what color.
The miracle of 200 diluted by the farce of 0.
They saw what they wanted.
Confirmation of Rag's 'incompetence' for relief.
But.
One exception.
Heimdall, god of typhoons, didn't laugh.
'…0 points?'
He set down his glass.
Narrowed eyes, deep in thought.
A guy who knew the Absolute God 'Inevitable Force' by name, withstood a typhoon head-on.
No disaster aptitude?
'Impossible.'
Didn't add up.
Whoosh.
Then a breeze grazed Heimdall's ear.
His spirit familiar delivered urgent news.
-My lord. Confirmed Rag's aptitude color.
'Speak.'
-It was black.
'Black?'
Heimdall's brow twitched.
The spirit continued.
-Yes. Not typical shadow purple or deep navy. Perfect darkness swallowing even light. Literal 'black'.
-GuGu the manager deemed it 'Nothingness' and gave 0 points.
Nothingness?
Truly talentless?
Or talent so profound it's unknowable?
'A bet's a bet, Rag.'
Heimdall downed his nectar in one gulp.
One trial left.
Overwhelming first.
Whether he'd uphold it? Time to watch.
And.
Higher than Heimdall's upper floors.
The tower's absolute pinnacle, 'Asgard's Heaven', where lesser gods dared not tread.
A space of eternal darkness that repelled even light.
In the thick gloom, a being sat on a jade throne.
Hod, the Dark God.
One of Asgard's 12 Archgods, sovereign of darkness.
"……."
He opened his eyes.
His gaze flashed in the pitch void.
"Perfect, flawless black."
Hod's voice rumbled heavily.
He extended a hand, swiping the air.
Darkness parted, mirroring the 1st Floor Chamber of Selection.
In that image, a golden-haired man stood brazenly.
Rag.
Hod pierced him with his stare.
At last.
"I've found you at last."
A faint smile curved Hod's lips.
"My successor."