Chapter 207
Yaldagoth, the Glutton of a Distant Universe.
That was the true master the Black Evil God served.
It was the first time Park Chanwoo had heard the name, but the epithet alone made one thing clear—it was no ordinary existence.
A being like a god, or perhaps a god itself.
That was why it could leave behind a Stigmata.
‘A statue?’
The Stigmata’s form was nothing like what he’d expected.
It was a statue of a monster—presumably Yaldagoth.
A cylindrical body with no eyes, and a grotesquely oversized mouth.
Sharp teeth were engraved in meticulous detail, making it look even more uncanny.
Park Chanwoo reached out and took the statue floating in midair.
A description window appeared.
[Name: Stigmata of Yaldagoth]
[Description: This is the Stigmata of Yaldagoth, the Glutton who dominated a distant universe. He acquired divinity by devouring countless deities. Afterward, he created his follower, the ‘Black Evil God,’ scattered him across the universe, and even exerted absolute influence. His universe has been destroyed and his influence has weakened in the present day, but it is said that the Authority of the mighty Glutton can still be used in places where the Stigmata remains.]
[Unique Options:]
[(1) The territory where the Stigmata is installed is protected by Yaldagoth.]
[(2) The size of the protected territory can be set. The smaller the territory, the higher the level of protection.]
[(3) Any Abyss that forcibly invades the territory protected by Yaldagoth is devoured by the Authority of Gluttony.]
[(4) Followers of Yaldagoth occasionally visit the territory where the Stigmata is installed.]
Park Chanwoo nodded.
‘It’s a barrier.’
Not an ordinary one, either.
It didn’t just repel invaders—it devoured the invading Abyss itself.
It reminded him of a Divine Creature, but it wasn’t the same.
A Divine Creature devoured an Abyss after it had already invaded.
This Stigmata prevented forced invasion in the first place.
‘I need to think carefully about where to install it.’
Protection scaled with territory size—stronger for a smaller area, weaker for a larger one.
If he installed it solely to protect his home, he could turn it into an absolute safe zone.
It might even be able to cover the entire Republic of Korea.
Even if the protection weakened, there were countless low-Level Creation Abyss designed to prey on the weak from the start.
Blocking those alone could save tens—maybe hundreds—of thousands.
Or he could install it in Valhalla, preventing mediocre demons or looters from barging in.
But—
‘Followers of Yaldagoth visit… does that mean the Black Evil God’s group?’
That line bothered him.
If the Black Evil God and its associates came to visit, the place could end up becoming a twisted “holy land.”
‘Hmm?’
That was when he felt a gaze that had been sticking to him for a while.
Ataraxia.
‘Why is he looking at me like that?’
The eyes were practically begging for praise, like a puppy.
Only then did Park Chanwoo fully register what Ataraxia had just done—he had annihilated the Perfect Black Evil God in an instant.
Whoosh!
Black lava simmered across the surroundings.
Hell of Despair.
An immeasurable amount of Mana had poured out in one surge, turning the entire area into a hellscape.
And this black lava was merely the residue left behind after the Black Evil God was erased.
“Excellent.”
Park Chanwoo praised the magic outright.
It truly was excellent.
The harmony between the Dragon Tongue of the Tribe of Despair and Ataraxia’s strongest spell was almost beautiful.
He controlled the Flow of Mana with artistic precision—its density, its properties, even its balance.
Among every Dragonkin Park Chanwoo had seen, Ataraxia’s skill stood out.
If Ataraxia were an enemy, there would be nothing more terrifying.
“Ah…!!”
Ataraxia trembled.
‘Dragon God Sephiro praised me!’
He took the praise as directed at him, not the spell.
And he’d never once seen or heard of Sephiro praising anyone.
What greater honor could there be?
Overwhelmed, Ataraxia hurriedly bowed his head.
“I-I am honored!!”
The words came out shaking.
It was something he could boast about to his tribe—no, something no one would believe even if he did.
But he’d definitely heard it.
Ataraxia, you are excellent!
With a bit of seasoning added, wasn’t that basically what it meant?
“Let’s head to the next floor soon.”
“Yes! I will follow the will of the Great One!”
Park Chanwoo shrugged.
Ataraxia’s reaction was excessive, but it proved his sincerity.
And the tower likely had at least ninety-nine floors—maybe more.
With the strongest Dragonkin at his side, stopping at the 10th floor was out of the question.
—
When they arrived on the 11th floor, the atmosphere shifted completely.
The 1st through 9th floors had been maze-like zones, but here a vast prairie stretched out before them.
And in the middle of it—
[‘Ancient Phantom’ has appeared.]
[‘Ancient Phantom’ reflects the climber of the Tower.]
Two identical copies appeared—one of Ataraxia, one of Park Chanwoo.
‘Not a Doppelganger.’
This wasn’t comparable to a Doppelganger’s replication.
There were always limits.
A Doppelganger couldn’t copy a Dragonkin.
Thump!
Ataraxia stepped forward.
The Phantom stepped forward in the exact same way.
“Flame of Despair, burn the enemy.”
“Flame of Despair, burn the enemy.”
Whoosh!
Kwaaaang!
Twin spheres of flame formed and collided, then erupted—
No, it wasn’t even a normal explosion.
The two spells offset each other perfectly.
Same spell. Same Mana consumption. Same control.
Even the technique was identical.
“…It’s copying my actions.”
“…It’s copying my actions.”
A mirror.
To ascend, you had to win against yourself.
Ataraxia’s brows drew together.
‘Dare to imitate the Great One’s appearance…’
He was angrier about that than about being copied.
But imitation had limits.
“Storm of Despair, stir wildly.”
“Storm of Despair, stir wildly.”
“Lightning of Despair, pierce the enemy.”
“Lightning of Despair, pierce the enemy.”
Kwaaaaa!
Thump! Rumble!
Magic poured out without pause.
But neither side could harm the other.
They were only burning Mana.
“Huff…! Huff!”
“Huff…! Huff!”
Ataraxia gasped, his expression twisted.
The Phantom was a perfect match.
If he didn’t kill himself, there was no way to win.
“…Great One. Please allow me to transform into my true form.”
A Dragon’s true form couldn’t possibly be copied the same way.
But Park Chanwoo shook his head.
“I don’t think it’s a trial that can be solved that simply.”
If Ataraxia transformed, the Phantom would transform as well.
He wouldn’t lose—but he also couldn’t win.
Yet challengers had already reached the 13th floor.
So it was solvable.
Which meant this trial was about creating a variable—something the Phantom couldn’t reproduce, no matter how closely it tried to mirror him.
Park Chanwoo took out a Platinum Box.
The Ancient Phantom produced a box as well.
“Open.”
“Open.”
Poof!
Smoke burst from both.
[‘Platinum Box’ has been opened.]
[You have acquired ‘Sword of the Canal’!]
But the Phantom’s result was different.
While Park Chanwoo drew the Sword of the Canal, the Phantom received the Bow of Ash.
It was only natural.
In the Abyss, nothing was as absolute a variable as a box.
No matter how identical the action, the result could never be guaranteed.
“Ah…!”
Watching, Ataraxia’s eyes widened.
All they needed was a result that couldn’t be imitated.
Still, he’d never imagined using a box to force a variable.
‘As expected… Great Sephiro.’
It was the kind of thought Ataraxia couldn’t even reach.
Step. Step.
Park Chanwoo walked toward the Phantom, sword in hand.
At close range—
Slash!
He brought the blade down.
The Ancient Phantom wielded the Bow of Ash, but a bow couldn’t outmatch a sword at this distance.
The Phantom was cut cleanly and evaporated.
Ataraxia’s Phantom fell just as easily.
It only mirrored Ataraxia.
Park Chanwoo was an entirely different story.
Ting!
[‘Ancient Phantom’ has been defeated.]
[Cleared in the shortest time!]
[You have acquired ‘Traces of the Ancient Phantom.’]
[You have acquired 2 ‘Superior Spirit Stones.’]
[You have acquired 2 ‘Platinum Box(★).’]
[Level has increased.]
[You can now ascend to the 12th floor.]
There didn’t seem to be any hidden routes or additional rewards.
But the moment they reached the 12th floor—
“…Why is a Dragonkin here?”
Men radiating a dark aura were waiting.
The instant they spotted Ataraxia, they identified him as Dragonkin.
And Ataraxia recognized them, too.
“…Dusk Clan.”
Dusk Clan.
One of the Twelve Species.