Chapter 201

Chapter 201
## Chapter 201: Banquet of the Special Messenger

The Monarch of Demons.

The absolute ruler of a myriad of fiends, the sovereign who held dominion over the eight layers of the abyss.

Perched upon his dark throne, he reviewed the latest dispatches from the front lines—only for a fierce scowl to twist his features.

“Isera has fallen…”

At the very least, Isera had managed to initiate a strike. That was a small mercy.

By contrast, Ahram, the King of the Dead, had been snuffed out before his feet could even graze the soil of the mortal realm.

Regardless, failure remained failure.

‘Brainless, incompetent wretches.’

He had observed them with a degree of arrogance, but death seemed to have taught them nothing; they were as useless now as they were in life.

Of course, his expectations had been low from the outset.

Had it not been for his kinship with the Seventh Lord, Basara, that creature would never have earned the right to be the Second Lord.

The only reason that pathetic weakling—whose only redeeming quality was a peculiar trait of invulnerability—occupied a seat among the lords was due to Basara’s shadow.

He had harbored a faint hope that consuming the flesh of the Dragon God and forging a pact with Agnis, the Spirit King, might have yielded a different result…

“Do not trouble yourself with him, Great King. He was a failure even with a Spirit King at his beck and call.”

A figure standing nearby, sensing the Monarch’s darkening mood, offered a soft word of advice.

This was a demon garbed in the primitive raiment of ancient tribes, gripping a heavy spear.

“Is that truly your assessment, Mammon?”

The speaker was the master of the Third Hell and the successor to the primordial spirits: Mammon.

Unique among his kind, he commanded the primal spirits and had been the very intermediary who secured the contract between Isera and the Fire Spirit King, Agnis.

“Indeed. Isera was unable to harness even a fifth of Agnis’s true potential. For a master of the Superheat Hell to possess such trivial talent… it is a profound embarrassment.”

“So, his defeat stemmed from an inability to wield the Spirit King’s essence?”

“Precisely so.”

Mammon spoke with absolute certainty.

He believed that if Agnis’s power had been fully unleashed, the conquest of the human world would have been a foregone conclusion.

However… was the situation truly that simple?

‘A fresh Dragon God has emerged upon the Earth. And Einhasar, the Light Dragon, played a role in that divinity’s inception.’

Only a single entity possessed the ancient knowledge required to craft a Dragon God.

Einhasar, known in the oldest cycles as the Dragon of Wisdom—

He had succumbed to the madness of the ruinous curse, yet he had suddenly reclaimed his divine karma, and in that same instant, a new Dragon God was born.

A divergent, mutant Dragon God.

This was no mere twist of fate.

‘Is this some trick of the ancient demons?’

The Monarch was well aware of the recent stirring of the Demon of Greed.

Yet, he had brushed aside the maneuvers of the ancient ones as trivialities.

Those elder spirits might be fond of mischief, but they lacked the courage to defy him openly.

He would have torn the life from their throats long ago if they had dared.

Still, if this was their handiwork, it was a direct challenge to his supremacy.

‘The divine serve to erode our strength.’

The Demon King.

He was the solitary scion of ‘Ruin’ itself.

‘Ruin’ was the progenitor of both the ‘Demon Realm’ and the ‘Demon King,’ carved from the remnants of shattered worlds, having butchered or driven countless gods to insanity.

It was a fundamental truth that divine presence weakened the power of Ruin.

Therefore, the only true predators of the demons and their King were those who carried the spark of divinity.

Furthermore, he was a being born for total subjugation.

‘…Regardless of who moves or what they plot, it is all but a desperate struggle in the dark.’

Despite the setbacks, the Monarch felt no true alarm.

His physical vessel was nearing a state of total sublimation.

Since taking the form of Wilhelm, he had already surpassed the limits Wilhelm once held.

Vibrant color returned to his pale flesh, and his augmented heart beat with a desire to expand and crush all opposition.

If the ancient demons were indeed playing games, he would simply execute them one after another.

“I assure you, Great King, I shall not falter.”

Mammon radiated confidence.

He sounded much like Ahram and Isera before him.

Yet, in terms of raw quality, Mammon was undeniably a far more formidable asset.

Two failures in succession.

The time was approaching when the full weight of the abyss might need to be hurled into the invasion.

‘That woman Pia left her blight upon me.’

Pia, the Goddess of the Firmament.

That wretched deity who had salvaged Wilhelm’s spirit had done more than just leave behind a star at her passing.

She had anchored a curse to him.

A restriction that prevented the demon realm from mobilizing its entire strength at once.

She had effectively chained his progress.

Because of her, the realm and its lords had been fully restored—but through a cruel irony, he was barred from deploying them in their entirety.

‘But even a goddess’s shackles…’

Would eventually crumble.

He had orchestrated things so that whenever a hell lord failed and perished, their gathered mana would be siphoned into his own form.

As his body grew more potent, Pia’s restraints grew more fragile.

“…Hmm?”

Suddenly, the Monarch’s brow furrowed.

“Is there a problem, Great King?”

At Mammon’s inquiry, the Monarch’s voice turned heavy and somber.

“Mammon… do you not perceive it?”

“Perceive what, my lord?”

“A monumental shift in destiny has just occurred somewhere on the continent of Pangeniar.”

“…I beg your forgiveness. I sense nothing out of the ordinary.”

So.

Even Mammon was blind to this colossal surge?

It wasn’t just Mammon—all the demons were deaf to it.

Only the Monarch, the direct heir to Ruin, could feel this ripple in the fabric of existence.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

…His pulse quickened. His palms grew damp with sweat.

‘Am I… feeling apprehension?’

The massive vortex of fate that had just been unleashed felt like a direct threat to his life.

What could it possibly be?

Was there something in existence capable of endangering ‘Ruin’ itself?

‘…That is impossible.’

He cast the thought aside with vehemence.

Even when gods were reborn or ascended, he had never felt this sense of pressure.

Therefore, it was inconceivable that such a threat existed.

A suit of armor, tempered within the First Flame that had been ignited at the dawn of time.

Its outward appearance was as basic as its name implied, but the power it contained was anything but simple.

“Armor… birthed from the blaze…?”

“What in the world is this?”

Auril and Hudson trembled as they gazed upon the newly forged primordial gear.

The moment the components had been cast into the heat, the armor had manifested instantaneously.

Yet, this was but a single trait of the ‘First Flame.’

This function alone justified the ‘legendary’ status of the fire.

‘As long as the ingredients are present, no blueprint is required.’

……A method of creation that bypassed the need for technical drawings.

A supreme flame that could produce unique-grade masterpieces or higher, provided the materials were of sufficient quality!

‘……This is madness.’

No other description fit.

How many times had he failed to craft an item because he lacked the proper schematics, even when he had the materials in hand?

Particularly ‘unique-grade blueprints’—they were as elusive as starlight.

Most were impossible to find outside of specific, hidden locales.

Procuring materials was difficult enough; the scarcity of blueprints made unique equipment almost a myth in the world.

But if the ‘First Flame’ removed that barrier…

‘Crafting unique-tier gear just became significantly easier.’

It wasn’t just a minor improvement; it was a tenfold increase in efficiency.

He could even manufacture some right this moment.

All he had to do was plunder the Golden Rule shop and the auction houses!

He had previously viewed it only as a tool for fortifying and expanding cities.

But even that excitement faded when compared to the ‘Primordial Armor’ sitting before him.

‘Ha.’

This was beyond insane.

It transcended explanation.

【Primordial Armor (Primordial Grade)】

-Crafted using a wooden staff that once supported the ‘Mother of Creation’ and the ‘First Flame.’

-Base 50% physical damage reduction.

-Base physical resistance bypasses ‘penetration’ effects.

-Reflects 210% of all incoming physical damage.

-Talisman slots (6).

-Equipped talismans have their effects boosted by 1.5x.

-Bonus to ‘total penetration’ based on level.

-Active Ability: ‘Primordial Despair.’

-Unbreakable.

-Soulbound upon use.

-Capable of shifting forms.

-Can be enhanced with ‘Primordial Magic Stones.’

……If this didn’t qualify as broken, nothing did.

The first attribute alone was staggering.

‘A trait that negates penetration.’

In this world, penetration usually bypassed all armor.

But here was an attribute that ignored the very thing meant to ignore defenses.

This was equipment that shattered the fundamental laws of Pangeniar.

Even with the ‘base resistance’ limitation, cutting physical damage in half and reflecting more than double back at the attacker was a blatant cheat.

‘Six talisman slots. And an amplification effect. Unbelievable.’

His eyes widened in shock.

How could this be possible?

Even the most elite gear typically offered only two or three slots.

And it actually intensified the power of the talismans placed within it.

It was entirely unprecedented.

‘Total penetration +9%…’

The level-scaling penetration followed the same pattern.

He was currently level 9.

Thus, he gained 9% penetration.

This single piece of gear pushed his total stat well above the 20% mark.

And it could still be improved.

‘What exactly is a Primordial Magic Stone?’

He wasn’t sure yet, but the description confirmed their existence somewhere.

The ability to change form meant he could hide its true nature perfectly.

Besides, nobody else would be able to discern its true value through appraisal anyway.

“Ra-Randolph… what exactly have you made?”

Hudson finally managed to ask.

He wasn’t the only one; the eyes of everyone present were filled with burning wonder.

Auril, Isaac, Balte, and Andasar were all staring in awe.

“Before I explain, I am officially designating everyone here as my ‘regular knights.'”

“What? Wait! Does that mean… you’ve reached a total of 10,000 honor?!”

Hudson was well-aware of the requirements.

Only those who surpassed 10,000 honor points could appoint regular knights.

Being a regular knight meant receiving stat bonuses, a personal crest, and becoming a direct vassal.

It was the equivalent of being a king’s personal guard.

It was a monumental honor, and they had certainly earned it.

However, I simply shook my head.

“No.”

“Then… how are you appointing ‘regular knights’ without the points…?”

“It’s not 10,000.”

“Excuse me?”

I held up three fingers.

Hudson’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

“Hold on. You don’t mean 30,000?”

“I’ve exceeded that.”

“……*Hack!*”

Hudson actually started choking.

10,000 honor made one eligible for a crown.

20,000 was the threshold for an emperor.

But 30,000… was such a number even achievable?

“I can appoint up to thirty people.”

“……What?!”

Thirty regular knights!

Even the Eight Legions of Knights that served the Emperor directly did not have thirty regular knights in total.

In terms of pure quality, this exceeded the elite forces of the Empire.

Hudson’s eyes were darting around in a frenzy of shock.

‘…Just how far are you planning to climb?’

There seemed to be no ceiling to Randolph’s potential.

Hudson felt an overwhelming sense of luck to be standing by this man’s side.

Indeed, everyone in the room felt the same.

……It was terrifying to even imagine Randolph as an adversary.

The Empire, the Church of the Emissary.

The high-ranking overseers were beginning to manifest, stepping out from the shadows one by one.

“The night of the ‘full moon’ has arrived.”

At the central gathering point.

The figure behind the golden mask began to speak with measured gravity.

Tonight was the night of the full moon—the evening a ‘special entity’ would finally wake.

“The individual who organizes the most exquisite banquet shall earn the right to challenge for ‘Mansik.’ Under the watchful gaze of the ‘Great Moon’s’ intent, this feast shall be an experience unlike any other.”

The Great Moon.

Upon hearing that name, the overseers visibly stiffened.

“I assume you are all fully prepared?”

The golden mask panned across the room.

Then, it stopped at a specific point.

……Fixing its gaze directly upon me.