A Tribute to the Goddess

I activated Devour on the Enraged Owlbeast.

It wasn’t the rampage-related skill I had been hoping for.

Still…

“Hell of a skill,” I muttered.

Fierce Charge was the very ability the Enraged Owlbeast had used while in its berserk state. Among all crowd-control effects, stun was considered top-tier. A charge that guaranteed a stun on hit was incredibly useful. Of course, the drawback was equally severe.

To make the most of Fierce Charge, I needed to keep at least ten meters of distance. That meant it was useless in close-quarters combat. And if the skill missed, I’d suffer the penalty. A true double-edged sword.

-Still, it is worth that risk, is it not?

“If I’m in a situation where I might miss, I just won’t use it.”

-Even so, it is a shame that it becomes difficult to use once melee is joined.

“I have Back Step, don’t I?”

-Oh? A skill that lets you retreat ten meters. Combining the two would remove the distance restriction entirely.

Our goddess was quick on the uptake these days. One hint and she grasped two.

There was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠also the option of using Cloud Flow Steps while charging. Since the two skills drew on different energy sources—mana and internal energy—they could be combined.

-You used that same method with Sprint, did you not?

“The execution difficulty will be much higher with Fierce Charge.”

I’d need to train like hell if I wanted to use both skills at the same time.

Yu Jinho has renewed the highest kill-count record.

The Enraged Owlbeast has been defeated.

Contribution: Yu Jinho (100%)

The Old Gods must be getting quite the headache right about now. Not only had I cleared the second floor’s hidden mission, I’d also hunted the Enraged Owlbeast and broken the kill-count record. They couldn’t placate the Tower’s laws of causality with some half-hearted reward.

-The children who were hiding are finally showing themselves.

The two remaining players canceled their stealth and crept out hesitantly. Lucky bastards. Thanks to me they had their names recorded as the first to clear the second floor’s hidden mission. They would receive far better rewards than the usual ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠second-floor clear bonuses.

-Do those other ninety-seven hold no sin?

“They would’ve killed each other anyway, even if I weren’t here.”

The average number of survivors for the second-floor mission was ten. Whether ninety or ninety-seven dropped out, the difference wasn’t worth worrying about.

I let out a short groan. Orihalcon. A top-grade metal on par with adamantium. The problem was that, at this point in time, there wasn’t a single artisan on Earth capable of refining it. If I took it to the Midron Trading Company or the craftsmen living inside the Tower, they would demand an exorbitant commission. And even if I had it forged into a weapon, what good would it do me? My weapon was my own body. That had been true in my previous life as well. To maximize the Devour ability, I had to make full use of my physical form. In 2025, Earth wouldn’t even recognize its true value, so selling it felt like a waste.

“Completely useless to me right now.”

My brow furrowed on its own. How ironic—to receive something so valuable yet have no way to use it.

-My dear! Is this not orihalcon?!

“It is. The problem is I have nowhere to use it.”

A question mark floated above Nyx’s head.

-Why dost thou claim orihalcon holds no use?

I briefly explained Earth’s current situation.

-So this world lacks artisans capable of processing it.

“I’ll have to keep it stored away for the time being.”

-Then this goddess shall make one proposal.

“A proposal?”

-How about offering the orihalcon to me?

Offering. In other words, she wanted it for free.

“Goddess, we’re in an equal contractual relationship. Asking for tributes is a little…”

-If this goddess uses the orihalcon, it may be possible to strengthen my existence power!

Nyx practically shouted the words. I couldn’t brush off what she said.

Strengthening her existence power meant Nyx herself would grow stronger. When I thought about the power she had displayed back in the Blue Goblin colony…

“You should have said that from the start.”

I held the orihalcon out to Nyx.

-Huuuk… Wait just a moment.

Nyx gently stroked the green-glowing surface. The orihalcon began to resonate with her touch.

Uuuuuung!

The green light grew brighter and brighter. After some time, the orihalcon turned soft and malleable, slowly seeping into Nyx’s palm.

-As expected. Just as this goddess predicted.

“What just happened?”

-Orihalcon is a fragment of the great being who gave birth to me—Chaos.

Chaos. The god known as the primordial chaos before the age of myths. I hadn’t known orihalcon was a piece of Chaos. Then again, dinosaurs died and became oil, so I suppose it made sense.

-Contractor, did you by chance have a very rude or blasphemous thought?

“Blasphemous? As if.”

I shook my head vigorously. She could be unnecessarily sharp sometimes.

-This goddess will focus on absorbing the rest of the orihalcon.

Some time later, the fist-sized chunk of orihalcon had completely melted into Nyx’s body and vanished.

“Goddess, how do you feel?”

-Hehe. It seems one more way to help my contractor has been born.

Nyx smiled with absolute confidence. Then she suddenly placed her hand on top of my head.

-Blessing of the Night.

I couldn’t help letting out a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠low whistle.

“Goddess, what the hell is this?”

-Hehe. It is thanks to this one’s existence power growing stronger.

The blessing bestowed a portion of Nyx’s own power. Compared to Berserk, which only boosted Strength by thirty percent while slapping on massive debuffs, this was on another level.

“This is easily a five-star buff!”

The efficiency would put most dedicated buffer players to shame. A high-performance buff skill was far more useful than a piece of orihalcon I couldn’t even use right now.

-Hehehe, what do you think?!

“It’s incredible.”

-Now do you recognize this goddess’s greatness?

“I already knew our goddess was amazing.”

-Good. Express your respect for this goddess even more passionately!

Nyx’s nose had risen so high it looked ready to pierce the heavens.

* * *

Deep beneath the Tower of Babel lay the dwelling place of the fallen gods—the Old Gods who had lost their former glory and names.

The first sun god, Hyperion.

The forest guardian, Humbaba.

The sky god, Uranus.

Along with the other fallen constellations who had been stripped of their status, they managed the Tower.

Shuuuuk!

A robed administrator stepped out of distorted space.

“You’re rather late, Lurein.”

“There was simply a lot of work. Please understand.”

The newly arrived administrator touched the edge of her hood. When she lowered it, emerald-green hair cascaded down like a waterfall. Crimson eyes gleamed from within. The goddess of magic—Lurein.

“You said an interesting fellow had appeared on your server?”

“Yu Jinho. A player who has broken the Tower’s highest records three separate times.”

Lurein nodded at Hyperion’s words.

“The Korean server. For its number of users, it produces an unusually high number of outstanding individuals.”

“A few of them have already transferred to other servers, though.”

“Thanks to Yu Jinho’s performance, the other players’ desire to challenge the Tower has risen even further.”

The Old Gods shared the results of their server analyses one by one.

The renewal of records in the tutorial, first floor, and second floor. The marks Jinho had set stimulated the pride of promising new players. Because of that, the Tower’s synchronization was progressing faster than expected.

Hyperion wore a deep smile.

Players competing for the Tower’s resources. The harder they struggled, the faster this world would be destroyed. The Babel Tower had already absorbed countless dimensions. No mortal could resist the pull of desire.

“Nothing will change this time, either.”

“Talented players can escape a doomed world by contracting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with the constellations.”

“When they rampage like this, are we not rather grateful?”

The corners of the Old Gods’ mouths curved into smiles.

“At this rate, we will reach the first stage of erosion much sooner than planned.”

“We had projected six months.”

“At this pace, we should be able to trigger the first stage in four months.”

The Tower’s erosion progressed in three stages.

First stage (20%) — Gate generation.

Second stage (50%) — Time limit on conquest.

Third stage (100%) — Dimensional absorption.

Once synchronization reached twenty percent, dimensional gates would open across the world, releasing the monsters inside the Tower and plunging society into chaos.

“When the first stage begins, mortals will climb the Tower not for wealth and glory, but simply to survive.”

“Unaware that their desperate struggles only tighten the noose around their own necks.”

The Old Gods burst into laughter.

But one among them did not smile.

“Is something wrong, Lurein?”

Hyperion approached her side.

“The player called Yu Jinho. His growth rate has already exceeded my designs.”

Lurein’s lost divine name was “Magic.” She had used her specialty to help design many parts of the Babel Tower. In particular, most of the lower floors’ difficulty, structure, and rewards bore her touch.

“There is no problem according to the system, is there?”

“That is true, however…”

“This system was built under the inspection of those damned gods. Nothing beyond causality can occur.”

Hyperion spoke with absolute confidence.

The constellations residing on the 100th floor, the Pantheon, rarely interfered with Tower operations. What they cared about were outstanding mortals. More precisely, they coveted their “stories” and “strength.”

“There is no room for the gods to intervene.”

Hyperion’s smile was slick and oily. Lurein moved her lips as if to speak, then pressed them tightly shut.

I cannot say that the mortal worries me more than the gods.

The fallen constellations might have declined, but they were once gods who had inscribed their names upon the flow of stars. Their pride was not so low that they would concern themselves with a single mortal. In the end, Lurein swallowed her anxiety, telling herself it was nothing and mocking her own unease.