Chapter 41

Headquarters of the Cult of the Void in Sector 4 of Ground Zero.

In the old Prayer House chapel that once served the Outer God of Revelation, the walls and ceiling had been painted with a peculiar idol.

A vast being with glowing violet eyes burst from the dark, swinging countless tentacles and swallowing monsters whole.

It was a district that always took damage because no one properly managed the Gate.

As more nearby residents started visiting the chapel, calling this “a new Outer God who would protect them from monsters,” surrounding guilds began to take notice as well.

While that mysterious sect worshipping a foreign god expanded its influence inside Ground Zero, their faith was becoming reality beneath the building.

In the basement once used by the black mage who had occupied the Prayer House, countless tentacles sprouted.

Tentacles of every size and shape bowed their heads in the same direction as if in prayer.

Toward the lone man seated in the center of the basement.

The sole Apostle of an Outer God, and the sovereign of all tentacles.

An unavoidable calamity that wandered the crumbled world gathering the Creator’s blood, a seeker who founded a new extreme magic in the Void between light and darkness.

And, more importantly, the owner of <Super-Class Monster Cat Gargantua (SSR)> and <Saint’s Familiar, Alligator Snapping Turtle Tartaruga (SR)>—both “must-pull” units from the mobile game “New Monster Wars RE:VIVE!” which had not missed first place in the smartwatch app store rankings lately.

Obviously, that had been me.

“Not long ago, I learned how you truly felt. To be honest, Company Commander… no, I was disappointed in you.”

“…?”

I gathered all my tentacles into one place and spoke.

I lowered my voice and wore the exact expression of someone betrayed by a trusted subordinate.

It looked very much like Kang Ha-neul on weekends, when he summoned the zero-years to the training ground to chew them out.

“When I went into the Sea of Decay last time, every tentacle rushed me like they wanted me dead.”

“…”

“Can’t you keep them under control? Good thing my head worked fast—otherwise I almost exposed my ability.”

“Kiek?”

“Inside, you resent me too, don’t you? I know.”

Nearly a hundred tentacles packed into the cramped basement all murmured at once.

The ones with vocal organs sighed and went, “There he goes again, that lunatic—,” heaving long breaths.

A few tentacles even asked the Eighty-Ninth, Stimulation, if it had pumped some weird drug into my head last time.

“Still, I’ll love my stupid children all the same.”

Regardless of their reactions, I took out the scale of Forneus from my pocket—extort… no, a legally transferred item I had received by mutual consent from my Outer God.

The tentacles started in surprise at the second Star Scar I had obtained since coming to Earth.

Like moths lunging at a bug zapper, they crowded close; I pushed them back with my other hand and brought up the reason I had called them here.

“To be fair, I haven’t taken proper care of you either. So let’s clear the air—say everything that’s made you unhappy.”

“Kiek…?”

“If any tentacle thinks they’ve suffered the most up to now, raise your hand.”

“Kieeeek!!!”

All the tentacles, without exception, pointed at themselves.

Even the Thirteenth Tentacle, Deluge—the one I’d told to wait outside because it was too big—smashed through the basement stairs and stuck its head in.

I wanted to divide things fairly among them all, but there just wasn’t enough.

No matter that I was the Apostle of an Outer God, I couldn’t waste the Star Scar so recklessly. It was an all-purpose material—not only for summoning tentacles and awakening extreme magic, but also for letting Mala-nim maintain her Incarnation. At best, I could spare enough for two.

“Kiek! Kieek!”

“Digestion, you?”

“Kiek!”

“I know you’ve been dying a lot lately, but even with this, there’s no clear way for you to get stronger.”

“…”

“Or do you actually have some kind of plan for evolving?”

The Eighty-Sixth Tentacle, Digestion.

The one that devoured targets and subjected them to slow agony, with all sorts of auxiliary functions that made it the most overworked of my tentacles.

Its unique regenerative ability let it endure no matter how much its body was ripped apart.

And instead of digestive fluid, it could fill its insides with various mixtures good for skincare.

That made it handy—distributed to Division 3 as moisturizer gel after training, or traded in the Council as currency.

Maybe because it had been chewed up and spat out so much, it snapped into action at my words, sketching a blueprint on the basement floor.

“Kieeeek!”

“Hm.”

Stronger digestion. A wider range of secretions.

And most of all, if it received the Star Scar, it claimed it could be reborn as a massive tentacle that swallowed not just people and monsters, but Gates themselves.

Not the most reliable pitch, but since it had worked so hard until now, I decided to give it a shot.

—Crunch!

It gulped down half the scale the moment it got it, sloshing as it digested.

With that, I turned to the rest who were holding up tentacles like raised hands. “So, who wants the other half?”

“Kieek!”

“Don’t just yell. Show me a forward-looking vision like this one. Raise your hand high.”

“Keeek!”

“I said don’t just raise your voices. If you keep shouting, I’ll come down there and—huh?”

A strange cry came from an empty corner of the basement.

On closer look, it was the Seventy-Seventh Tentacle, Transparency.

It was invisible, so I hadn’t even noticed it had its hand up.

Feeling guilty for ignoring it all this time, I quieted the others and asked Transparency,

“Alright, what could you do if I gave you the Star Scar?”

“Keeek!”

“Oh, you could wrap around other tentacles to make them invisible? Even add a touch of perception distortion?”

That was something I’d long thought I needed.

It was the very ability I’d told Mala-nim I wanted back when I first received a Star Scar on Earth.

If it could grant invisibility to the other tentacles, I wouldn’t have to worry about being exposed as an Awakened.

Not every tentacle would be compatible—Suggestion or Radiance couldn’t be covered that easily—but it would still give me far more freedom than now.

I couldn’t keep pretending to be some magician limited to third-rank Black Magic forever. This was a rational choice.

“Then the remaining piece goes to Transparency—”

“Kieeeek!”

“Kyahh!”

“Crunch, crack!”

The majority of the tentacles shot up in protest.

They denounced my decision as the act of an autocrat, a betrayal of the tentacle democracy they had worked so hard to build, and loudly voiced their complaints.

Some of the more radical extremists, perhaps taking cues from the demons, argued they should form their own assembly like the Council and resist.

Creatures that would have been ripped up like weeds in the Demon Realm if not for Mala-nim and me were now living comfortably on Earth—enough that they had started demanding welfare.

“Kyahhh!”

“Kiek!”

“Crack, crunch!”

Of course, every tentacle here was special in its own way—but at the core, they were still monsters.

And with monsters, the logic of strength always worked. If I used a portion of the remaining Star Scar to summon one of the single-digit tentacles that wasn’t present, the rest would fall flat at once.

But I was human too. I didn’t want to treat the ones I’d lived alongside for over ten years with such coldness.

The amount of Star Scar was limited. Splitting it among everyone equally would be wasteful.

Wasn’t there a better way to pacify them?

As I struggled for an answer, a message came from Yoo Se-byeol.

— Yoo Se-byeol: Hey, want to go with me to the Tower of Proof?

In that single short sentence, I saw a ray of hope.

The Tower of Proof.

Simply put, it was a kind of artificial dungeon created during the Magic Towers’ research into Gates.

Each floor held its own mission, and participants’ performances were broadcast live to the world.

The only requirement was to be an Awakened.

Ability, martial arts, or magic—it didn’t matter as long as you could use at least one.

At first glance it seemed like a pointless event, but it drew huge numbers of participants because the prize was a Gate.

And not just any Gate, but ones qualitatively different from those the Special Unit usually handled.

“The Astronomical Observation Wing of the Magic Tower announces Gates each year, right? Then the valuable ones get auctioned to guilds. But there was a problem once.”

Some guilds that had bought Gates ended up losing control.

They had the money to purchase them, but not the power to clear them—leading to disasters.

Even if a Gate promised good mana stone yield or looked like a prime vacation spot, it was still dangerous until fully conquered.

The Tower of Proof had been created to prevent that kind of collateral damage—a stage to test real ability before a guild could claim ownership.

“Nowadays the system is solid, and Awakened have all leveled up, so accidents like that almost never happen. But the entertainment side remains, so the winning team gets ownership of a high-quality Gate as the prize.”

“Does the Special Unit allow agents to enter the tower?”

“As long as it’s not excessive. It’s fine as long as commanders don’t openly apply themselves or resell Gates to other guilds.”

Demand always flowed from the top.

No matter how times changed, the total resources needed to keep society and organizations running never shrank easily.

If one Gate went to the Bureau or a private individual, guilds seeking profit would have to attack another.

Repeat that enough, and the result was fewer neglected Gates piling up for the Special Unit to deal with.

That was why I could enter the tower with Yoo Se-byeol.

In fact, part of the Bureau’s budget was already used to bid for Gates. Entering as an individual wasn’t a problem.

“I happened to get two admission tickets from a friend yesterday. N-not that it has to be you! It just reminded me of how they used to tuck a leave permit in with commendations…”

“Hm…”

“U-uh, do you not want to go with me?”

“No, that’s not it.”

Her cheeks were flushed red—maybe from too much drinking the night before—as I spoke in a quiet voice.

“Lately it feels like someone’s watching me twenty-four hours a day. At meals, at cafés, even when I’m hanging upside down from the ceiling of Commander Ha Yeri’s office.”

“Seriously?”

“I’ve got good instincts. It was fine when I stopped by Ground Zero yesterday, but the feeling came back as soon as I reported in this morning.”

“Hm…”

She considered it with a serious expression, then shook her head.

“I’ve been watching all day. There’s no one else. Don’t worry.”

“Really? Maybe it’s just my imagination… Anyway, sounds good.”

“You’ll come with me!?”

“Of course. If the Deputy Commander herself suggests it, how could I refuse?”

If I could win a Gate and let the tentacles live inside, their complaints might finally quiet down.

It wasn’t like I could sell it for money anyway. Worst case, I could pour in hot water and turn it into an onsen—they’d love that.

I decided on the spot to join her.