Chapter 19: The Staff of the Typhoon That Tears and Kills

Heimdal sank into a cushioned chair.

A faint smile appeared on his lips.

‘He’s going to suffer quite a bit.’

He could picture it perfectly.

The image of that guy abandoned in the middle of an immense white expanse.

100 Nectar.

With such miserable capital, developing a floor must have seemed like an impossible task.

“Hehe.”

A small chuckle escaped his lips.

It wasn’t out of malice.

It was a kind of anticipation.

Rank A.

It sounded simple, but in reality, it was an almost impossible mission.

To increase a floor’s rank required enormous resources.

Buildings had to be constructed, ecosystems had to be created, and mana density had to be increased.

All of that consumed Nectar.

‘At a minimum, fifty years.’

Heimdal raised his cup.

No matter how talented that guy was, he could never overcome the Nectar barrier.

He would have to gather believers, conquer dungeons, and climb floors, accumulating Nectar coin by coin.

Those long years of effort would turn him into a true god.

‘Well, if things really become difficult for him, I could help him.’

Heimdal put on a magnanimous expression.

If Rag set aside his pride and even came clinging to his pants, begging for help.

Perhaps he would pretend he had no other choice and give him some Nectar.

To be honest, he was somewhat annoyed.

The boy had proclaimed that he would seek him out first upon arriving at the tower, and even after reaching Floor 2, he had shown no signs of life.

Yet strangely, even that insolence didn’t bother him.

Especially because the boy had known how to recognize his position and show humility.

‘He’s quick to grasp the situation.’

He was completely different from the arrogant one he had met at the beginning.

He had probably only understood Heimdal’s greatness after climbing the tower.

If he had continued behaving with the same insolence, Heimdal would have erased him from existence.

Besides.

What cards did the boy possess?

Angragon, the Dragon of the Great Catastrophe.

Abriel, the Great Angel.

And an elf full of potential.

He was more useful than Heimdal had imagined.

Perhaps that was why he didn’t dislike him.

‘For a mere minor god, he has excessive strength.’

A lineup that many intermediate gods didn’t even possess.

It was proof that his ability was extraordinary.

The only blemish was his catastrophe affinity score of 0 points.

But that could be solved with time.

After all, he had managed to withstand one of Heimdal’s typhoons.

He must possess some hidden talent.

Heimdal took a sip of Nectar.

The sweet aroma slid down his throat.

Then suddenly, a peculiar thought crossed his mind.

‘A God Apostle.’

If he truly reached Rank A.

Perhaps making him his apostle wouldn’t be a bad idea.

A God Apostle.

A successor who assisted a superior god and inherited part of his power.

In other words, a personal disciple.

All supreme gods possessed outstanding apostles.

But Heimdal had never accepted one.

Because his standards were too high.

He had never found a vessel capable of enduring his typhoons.

‘Perhaps Rag can.’

Raise him properly and make him his right-hand man.

That didn’t sound bad.

It would strengthen the Nature Faction and serve as a stepping stone toward even greater heights.

Heimdal indulged in that pleasant fantasy.

Fifty years later.

He imagined Rag, fully developed, kneeling before him while presenting a Rank A floor.

He relaxed comfortably against the backrest.

He had plenty of time.

For a god, fifty years was barely an instant.

Just as he was thinking about closing his eyes for a moment.

Ding!

A clear notification sound echoed through the air.

It was a system message.

Heimdal opened his eyes lazily.

‘Another minor god died?’

Lately, funeral news had been frequent.

First Kartal.

Then Caligo.

Who would it be this time?

He glanced at the message window without much interest.

But then.

“…Pffft!”

He spat out the Nectar in his mouth.

He began coughing violently.

With his face reddened, he rubbed his eyes.

He looked again.

The letters were still there.

In fact, they shone even more intensely, striking directly at his optic nerves.

[Congratulations!]

[The Crystal of Floor 2 has increased in rank.]

[Rank: F → A]

[Time Required: 23 hours, 3 minutes, and 42 seconds]

[A miraculous speed!]

“……!”

Heimdal’s mind froze.

From F to A?

In 23 hours, 3 minutes, and 42 seconds?

‘What the hell…?’

It was impossible.

Simply impossible.

Transforming an F-rank wasteland into an A-rank one required at least 500,000 Nectar.

Buildings had to be constructed, temples erected, a perfect ecosystem designed, and top-quality materials invested.

And now what?

23 hours, 3 minutes, and 42 seconds?

But the system seemed to mock his thoughts and continued displaying messages.

Ding!

[A new record has been registered in the Hall of Gods.]

[Shortest time to reach an A-rank Floor.]

[Record Holder: Rag]

[Contribution: 100%]

“……Ha.”

Heimdal stared blankly into space.

Everything he had thought just minutes ago.

That it would take fifty years.

That he would make him his apostle.

That he might have to help him.

All of it became ridiculous.

That guy didn’t need help.

‘Where the hell did he get that much Nectar?’

Weren’t 100 Nectar his entire fortune?

Even selling divine relics at the exchange house would make it difficult to gather such an amount.

He couldn’t understand it.

‘Did another god sponsor him?’

“But…”

His thoughts stopped there.

Soon, he shook his head.

100% contribution.

That meant he had accomplished it entirely through his own strength.

It was absurd.

And at the same time, exciting.

A guy who shattered common sense.

A guy who always exceeded expectations.

That insolent Seed who had stopped his typhoon and spoken the Supreme God’s name without the slightest fear.

Now he was certain.

That guy was a true gem.

Perhaps far more than he had imagined.

Heimdal adjusted his clothes.

A promise was a promise.

A god could not go back on his word.

“Good. Let’s see, then.”

He headed once more toward the spatial teleportation gate.

His steps quickened.

He had to see with his own eyes what that Floor 2, which according to the system had been raised to Rank A, looked like now.

Wuuuuung!

The door opened.

Heimdal rushed through without hesitation.

And when he arrived at Floor 2.

He had no choice but to be stunned once again.

“…This is Floor 2?”

The wasteland had disappeared.

In its place stood a golden city so dazzling it seemed capable of blinding him.

Heimdal frowned.

The light was so intense that it even hurt his eyes.

Brilliant golden roof tiles.

Columns carved from the highest-quality marble.

At the center of the floor stood an enormous golden temple that dominated the landscape.

It wasn’t merely coated in gold.

The entire structure had been built with high-purity magic stones and genuine gold.

‘This is ridiculous.’

Heimdal was a god.

But he had never seen such absurd extravagance.

He looked at the ground.

Perfectly maintained paths stretched as far as the eye could see.

Flowers of every color bloomed on both sides.

Magical herbs worth dozens of Nectar each grew as if they were ordinary weeds.

“Damn it…”

The curse slipped from his lips on its own.

Almost hypnotized, he continued walking forward.

Even the air was different.

So fresh that it seemed to cleanse his lungs.

When he looked up, he saw an artificial sun suspended in the sky.

It warmed the land to the perfect temperature and provided flawless illumination.

Shhhhhhh!

From somewhere came the soothing sound of flowing water.

It was a waterfall.

A stream descended from the air, forming an enormous lake.

Columns of white steam rose from the surface.

‘Hot springs?’

Heimdal sniffed the air.

A gentle herbal scent mixed with the aroma of concentrated divine energy.

This wasn’t ordinary hot spring water.

It was a pool filled with the highest-quality Holy Water capable of restoring divine power.

“Ha.”

He couldn’t believe it.

This was literally a resort.

But the real problem was something else.

‘And the defenses?’

Heimdal surveyed the surroundings.

By nature, every floor of the tower was a fortress.

It should contain traps to stop intruders.

Ferocious monsters capable of tearing challengers apart.

Labyrinths designed to make people lose their way.

That was normal.

But there was nothing here.

No matter how hard he searched, he couldn’t find a single element that could be considered a threat.

Chirp, chirp.

A blue bird flew over his head.

Crickets sang among the grass.

Butterflies fluttered about.

Squirrels ate acorns.

It was peaceful.

Excessively peaceful.

“And you call this an ecosystem?”

Heimdal’s face twisted.

This wasn’t an ecosystem.

It was a zoo.

No.

A botanical garden.

What did he plan to do if an intruder appeared?

Invite them to relax in the hot springs?

Offer them a therapeutic stroll along the paths?

“Rag!”

Heimdal’s voice thundered throughout the golden city.

The blue birds took flight in fright.

In the distance, beneath a pavilion beside the waterfall, someone was sitting.

It was Rag.

He wore a robe woven from silk and held a cup in one hand.

Meanwhile, Angragon floated on his back in the hot springs, leisurely enjoying the bath.

“You’ve come?”

Rag greeted him with a smile.

He looked like a carefree aristocrat.

Heimdal strode forward.

He almost grabbed him by the collar.

But he restrained himself.

Instead, he pointed at him.

“Have you lost your mind?”

“What seems to be the problem?”

“Do you really not understand why I’m like this?”

“Could it be the scenery? I don’t know what other floors are like, but I did everything I could to reach Rank A in such a short time.”

“…”

Heimdal clicked his tongue.

He had no way to refute that.

After all, if someone didn’t know how things worked, it was understandable.

And besides.

‘It really is Rank A.’

The temple covered in gold.

The hot springs filled with the highest-quality Holy Water.

Even the mana density floating through the air.

Without a doubt, this place possessed the value expected of an A-rank floor.

The problem was the direction it had taken.

This didn’t look like a tower meant for battles and trials.

It looked like a luxury resort built to enjoy life.

Heimdal let out a long sigh.

“…Fine. I’ll admit it. The rank is correct.”

He stared directly at Rag.

His gaze sharpened.

“But I have to ask. Where did all this Nectar come from?”

This had to have cost at least a million Nectar.

An amount impossible for someone who had only just reached Floor 2.

Heimdal narrowed his eyes.

Rag simply shrugged.

He didn’t look nervous at all.

“I exchanged something.”

“What?”

Such a brazen answer.

Although it was true, it was difficult to believe.

To obtain that much Nectar through exchanges, he would have needed unimaginable wealth.

‘He’s lying.’

Heimdal thought he was hiding the true source of his Nectar.

Seeing Heimdal frown, Rag waved his hands.

“Don’t misunderstand. I swear I didn’t receive help from any other god.”

“…”

“The only person I follow is you, Lord Heimdal. How could I dare go to someone else?”

Rag smiled casually.

It was obvious flattery.

But it didn’t sound unpleasant.

And most importantly.

He didn’t seem to be lying.

He was still curious about what exactly Rag had exchanged.

But this was the same person who had summoned Angragon and even tamed Abriel.

From the very beginning, he had been someone who defied all logic.

He had probably found some extraordinary method.

Heimdal decided to let the matter rest for now.

“…Very well. I’ll let it pass.”

What mattered now was that Rag had fulfilled his promise.

He had achieved the condition imposed upon him.

And not only that.

He had completed it in record time.

It was proof that he had exerted himself to the fullest.

Rather than suspecting him, he should be congratulating him.

Rewards had to be given fairly.

And punishments as well.

“Take it.”

Heimdal pulled something out of the air.

It was a long object.

A staff made from a strange material that looked neither like wood nor metal.

Its surface was covered with whirlwind-shaped engravings.

At the tip was a blue gem spinning violently.

Wuuuuung!

The moment it appeared, the surrounding air stirred.

The surface of the hot springs rippled.

The leaves on the trees began shaking violently.

“It is the Tearing-and-Killing Typhoon Staff.”

The name was every bit as brutal as it sounded.

Handing the staff over, Heimdal spoke solemnly.

“It is one of my favorite Divine Artifacts.”

Rag extended his hand and took hold of it.

Heimdal immediately warned him.

“But let me tell you in advance. You won’t be able to use it so easily.”

“Why?”

“Because Divine Artifacts possess wills of their own. They choose their masters. And this one, in particular, is famous for its fierce temperament.”

Heimdal spoke in a stern tone.

“Even it took me ten years to tame it. No matter how talented you are, obtaining this staff’s recognition will require years of effort and sacrifice…”

Fwoooooosh!

“…?”

Boooom!