Chapter 476
The Dignified One. That was Rutherford’s first impression upon facing the platinum-haired youth.

Was it because of the radiant hair cascading down like liquid light? Or perhaps the gaze, deeper than any abyss? Despite the unmistakable murderous intent radiating from him, Rutherford felt it was somehow neutralized by a sacred aura.

In the brief moment their eyes locked, Rutherford could clearly sense that Ian’s presence was far from ordinary.

“Lord Rutherford!”

Whoosh!

Zzzzz!

Ah, this time I’m really going to die.

There was no chance for the mages to intervene. He was already in close quarters with Ian, and the golden shimmer of magical power was rising up just beneath Rutherford’s neck.

I’m going to die, I’m going to die, this time it’s really over.

After facing death hundreds of times, he thought he’d lost all fear of it. But apparently not. Humans can never truly escape the shadow of death. The more clinging regrets weigh down life, the darker that shadow grows.

If he missed this moment, Rutherford couldn’t say when—or if—there would be a next chance.

His body, capable of alchemy; Ian, the mage sent by the gods; a world torn apart by war; and Bariel, where only the young prince remained. Each of these was a miracle on its own, barely holding together. And yet, he was about to be sent off into nothingness by death.

“Lo-Lord Rutherford!”

“Nooo!”

Bang! Bang!

Whoosh!

A fierce wind swept through the Abyssal Sea, filling every crack and crevice.

Ian gasped sharply, staring down at his own hands. The magic that had burst forth, hot and then cool, still pulsed vividly. The sensation of shattering the moon, even the feeling of tearing into Rutherford’s flesh—it was all still fresh.

But why did it feel like this?

“Haa, haa…”

It was an instinctive sense of loss.

Ian looked around at the chaos—black shards of the moon and unknown impurities scattered everywhere. Where was Rutherford? Where had the pieces of his shattered body gone? Had he really been torn apart? It was truly strange.

As Ian’s gaze darted about, he spotted a gypsy spinning slowly above.

“…?”

Like a wild bird sensing something amiss, it circled precisely in place.

Ian didn’t know its intent, but it seemed to be trying to tell him something. So he kept his guard up, maintaining his magic.

Whoooosh!

“…!”

His sharp senses detected a change in the Abyssal Sea. The impurities and moon fragments were drawn together by some silent force, forming a current.

The transparent flow took shape, and the shards clustered to make the form more visible.

The mages who noticed this late nearly had their eyes pop out. That was definitely—

“Gasp!”

“It’s a face.”

Massive, like a mountain rising tall, a human head with clearly defined features.

Was that also a vision from the Abyss? The mages were paralyzed by fear, unable to move a finger. Only Ian met it calmly.

“Ian.”

Its voice was deep and heavy, echoing through the Abyssal Sea. The wind stirred Ian’s hair as it passed.

“W-what is that?”

“Lord Rutherford! Where have you gone? You wouldn’t leave us behind, would you? Please answer us!”

“Save me! Please save me!”

As the mages cried out in desperation, the figure exhaled lightly. The waves churned violently.

Half-submerged within was Rutherford. His body was covered in wounds from Ian’s attack, but he seemed alive. Had he lost consciousness? Blood dripped steadily from his limp form.

“Ian.”

Zzzzz.

Ian formed a blade of magic between his hands, gripping it tightly. He didn’t fully understand what that thing was, but as Emperor Ian, he couldn’t let it casually speak his name.

“…Did you save Rutherford?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not only disrespectful enough to say my name, but also insolent in your behavior.”

Rutherford was the one Ian was meant to cut down. Since Ian had saved Rutherford, he too must be cut down. As Ian straightened and lowered his stance, the figure laughed heartily.

“You’re the arrogant one, Ian. How dare you stand before a god.”

A god? Ian’s brow twitched, while the mages watching Rutherford erupted in joy.

Rutherford was the one who communicated with the gods to govern the world. Their faith was bearing fruit. The gods had descended; surely they would save them. They would escape the Abyssal Sea, carry on the divine will, and complete their great mission!

“…”

But Ian, clearly exasperated, slung his magic blade over his shoulder. To hear that name spoken so casually right after facing a “god” himself—

Ian immediately recognized that this “thing” was the “Shadow” the gods had warned him about. A foolish being aspiring to become a god.

“Good. No need to go far.”

Zzzzz!

Biting his lip lightly, Ian muttered.

Rutherford was there, and so was the Shadow. No need to chase it beyond the Abyss. He would end this here. If he did, Naum’s suffering would soon be over.

He wouldn’t see Berrick, Romandro, Jin, Sia, or the entire magic division again, and that hurt. But if this was the path he had to walk, it was fine.

…Really, it was fine.

“Since the beginning, a human has been foolish enough to defy the divine will I envisioned. My children, kill that insignificant wretch. Kill him and offer his flesh to me. Then, from my Abyssal Sea to Gaia, I will show you the way.”

The Shadow’s voice rippled through the mages like a wave.

The mages slowly turned their heads to look at Ian. The difference in power was clear. But the god’s command was also clear.

Zzzzz!

As the mages began to unleash their magic one by one, Ian raised an eyebrow in confusion. The form was awe-inspiring, but was that really enough for them to believe it was a god? Their own god was far warmer, far kinder.

Ian scolded the mages.

“Foolish. Just because you saved Rutherford, you believe that thing is a god? The whole premise is wrong.”

“Shut up! How dare you call it ‘that thing’! You’re a mage too, yet you challenge divine power?”

“Kneel now and beg for forgiveness! How dare you defy the will of the one true god!”

Ian realized something was wrong with the mages. They were irrational, unreasonable.

This was the Abyssal Sea. A place beneath the rift where monsters are born. It was natural for strange things to appear. But to believe that mere appearance was a god?

‘…Mind control.’

Just like the Arsen incident. The monster’s voice had wormed its way into their minds, making normal thought impossible. In Bandor’s case, having faced that thing in a devastated state, they were even more deeply ensnared.

Ian understood why the gods had chosen him. As a mage blessed by the royal family, he was immune to the Shadow’s illusions and could see the true god clearly.

“Hurry and kill Ian. Kill him and bring his body to me. Then you will live. I will grant you eternal life and death, freeing you from this endless cycle.”

Zzzzz!

Snap! Whoosh!

At its urging, the mages gritted their teeth and lunged at Ian. The power gap was overwhelming, and their strength was nearly spent, but since the god commanded it, they obeyed.

The golden-eyed ones split left and right, soaring through the air. Ian raised a shield and easily blocked them.

Thud!

Bang!

“Think and question. If that thing were truly a god, the source of our power, it would instantly replenish your depleted magic. It wouldn’t order me to kill you—it would snap my neck with a single word.”

“Silence! How dare you say ‘that thing’—where do you get off—!”

“Arrgh! Die!”

Ian had poured everything he had into the palace, yet here he was, whole and healed in the Abyssal Sea, the so-called hell. He kindly explained this, but the mages, consumed by the Shadow, didn’t hear him.

With a resigned shake of his head, Ian slipped through their ranks.

Whoosh!

Each swing of his magic left blood splattering, and the mages groaned in pain. One, two, three. With every swift strike, the mages fell helplessly.

These veins of sensation, powered by magic—Ian frowned, clearly not enjoying cutting them down. Perhaps because he realized their actions were the Shadow’s brainwashing.

“Hahaha!”

When Ian finally cut them all down and stood alone, the Shadow laughed with great satisfaction.

The floating corpses of the mages drifted around. It took a deep breath and ravenously devoured their bodies.

“Delicious as always! Hahaha!”

There were many ways to feed on divine power. Ian wiped the sweat dripping from his chin with a frown.

Mages were the closest to the gods. Their power was no different from divine power, so by consuming them, the Shadow could acquire and maintain its own authority.

“…Will those it just ate suffer the Abyssal Curse like Bandor? An endless cycle of death?”

“How can you call it a curse? It is the blessing I bestowed upon Bandor.”

When both body and soul were on the verge of erosion, Pandor was chosen. He was the first wizard the Shadow ever encountered.

Just as the god had set Ian forward, the Shadow sought to fulfill its will through Pandor. To reach the appropriate timeline, it endured a grueling cycle of death and rebirth.

“I only drained your strength to bring you back to life, sparing you from the death humans fear most. What greater blessing could there be?”

Ian leveled his magic sword, as if urging him to be honest: “Now, it’s just you and me here.”

“Is it true you coveted the body of the bastard Ian? That body is the very flesh the god manifested as Gaia. For a creature like you, crawling beneath the earth, it must seem a fitting prize.”

The meeting between Ian and Rutherford was the fateful crossroads where ‘God’ and ‘Shadow’ collided. Yet one question remained: why did Rutherford only forge a contract with bastard Ian and then send him away?

Of course, the god had to keep bastard Ian free to allow room for intervention in history. But from the Shadow’s perspective, there must have been a compelling reason for such restraint.

“It’s hard to see this as your doing. It must have been an unavoidable circumstance.”

‘Doing’—or ‘arrangement’—was something only carried out under the god’s name. For the Shadow, it was merely a ‘circumstance’ it had no choice but to accept.

Slowly, the Shadow stretched out its neck and leaned toward Ian. Its immense presence was truly overwhelming.

“What makes you treat me so, when there is no difference between the god and me?”

“…What did you say?”

“The god exists everywhere, and so do I. As long as the god does not vanish, neither will I.”

“The god—”

“The god lives by faith. Now, so do I. There is no difference between us, yet why do you speak to me like that?”

A mysterious god dwelling beneath the Gaia earth. Hearing that it was gaining faith, Ian gasped, as if suddenly understanding something.

When bastard Ian was young, even if he gained a body, the Shadow could not use it. According to the Shadow, human faith was too faint then.

“…You’re an Underworld God.”

A heresy that began in Torlun, this new religion left the deepest mark in history. Feeding on faith there, the Shadow sought to approach Bariel, and in that process, Burgos emerged.

The Shadow let out a thick, dark laugh. Now it had hit the mark, mocking him.

“Underworld God. One of the many names humans call me.”