Ubermensch – Chapter 182

Chapter 182

Kururuk…

Mason was sinking.

Countless nightmares flashed past him.

The nightmare of killing Yekaterina due to a lack of communication and being betrayed by pseudo-humans.

The nightmare of slaughtering the Murim people, with whom he couldn’t reconcile until the very end, with his own hands.

The nightmare of killing tens of thousands of soldiers, including Cú Chulainn, with his bare hands to maintain the balance of Eriu.

The nightmare of losing to Cthulhu and fleeing to save only his own life.

Nightmares.

And nightmares.

And more nightmares.

Kururuk!

Mason screamed in the chaos, and his screams simply turned into bubbles, wandering through the chaos.

Trapped within the dimension of nightmares, Mason struggled, and Azathoth sneered, watching his meaningless struggles.

It was a strange sneer, seeming both satisfied and disappointed.

No, perhaps it was closer to a mixture of both emotions.

What could be clear to the God of Chaos?

Even he wouldn’t differentiate, simply moving as his impulses led him.

Chaos and impulse were setting him free. With self-control and patience ripped away, he felt freedom, and feeling freedom was pleasant.

Azathoth’s emotions further distorted the twisted universe. He chuckled at the fact that he could distort the universe, letting out a cursed groan.

And Mason, Oztalon, was gradually dissolving, melting into a single thread of madness…

At that moment.

Kwachang!

The universe shattered, and a silver, shining arm grabbed Mason.

Azathoth sneered.

The inferior one, Nodens, who had power yet was not free!

He was unworthy of existence.

Contempt moved him, and Azathoth’s chaos tried to tear Nodens’ arm to shreds.

But at that moment, Azathoth also sneered at that malice.

He could stop it if he wanted to. But what reason was there to stop it?

I am free.

Neither Nodens, a mere empty shell, nor the weak and powerless Mason could do anything.

They couldn’t dare suppress my freedom, so why not watch what they do?

Azathoth’s impulse let go of Nodens’ arm.

As Nodens’ arm retracted, the dimension returned to chaos.

Azathoth looked within himself.

Everything was his, and everything was his plaything.

Everything, including his past self.

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Nodens set Mason down.

At the same time, he severed his own arm.

The arm, contaminated by chaos, rotting away.

“Nodens-nim. Are you alright?”

All the gods of the Elder God Pantheon were gathered. They were aware of the gravity of the situation.

Nodens shook his head at Bastet’s worried words.

“No. I can’t say that I am.”

As Nodens looked at his severed arm, the space around it was layered and sealed tightly.

“Borbados. Guard this seal. Let no one, nothing, touch it.”

“Yes.”

Nodens, noticeably weakened, attached a silver prosthetic in place of his severed arm.

“Hmm…”

Nodens staggered. He hadn’t recovered from the shock of Azathoth’s birth.

“Father of All Things.”

Bastet tried to use her power to heal Nodens, but he shook his head and pushed her away.

“Stop it, Bastet. The difference in our divine rank is too great. You might be absorbed by me.”

Nodens looked at Mason.

“Take care of Oztalon rather than me. I don’t have the strength to pull him out of the chaos in my current state…”

Azathoth had taken away Nodens’ essence: madness and impulse. What remained of Nodens were the remnants that Azathoth didn’t take: reason and restraint.

For Nodens, who had involuntarily become an orderly being, such dense chaos was as dangerous as radiation or poison to humans.

It had been a life-or-death struggle to pull Mason out of The Origin, which had become an abyss of chaos. Even then, he had to cut off the arm that had directly touched the chaos.

Nodens, with a tired and haggard face, said,

“Now that I’m half gone, our only hope is Oztalon.”

“Because he is the last Mason?”

“No.”

Nodens said in a weary voice.

“Because he is a being who will not be broken by any despair.”

“…Let’s try.”

Bastet approached Mason. However, she couldn’t bear the disgust and pain, and she retreated.

“Ugh…”

The Elder Gods, nurtured by Nodens’ good side, were similarly good and orderly beings. The madness-laced chaos that covered Mason was also a deadly poison to them.

There was nothing they could do.

‘If Oztalon is our only remaining hope…’

And that fact posed a question to Bastet.

‘…What happens if that hope doesn’t wake up?’

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Mason was dreaming.

Fragmented images were flashing past him endlessly.

But each and every one of them was breaking his heart and planting despair.

Yekaterina, being strangled to death in Mason’s grasp, asked,

“Isn’t it painful?”

He had done everything to help the pseudo-humans, but when the crisis came, they abandoned him and turned their backs on him.

“Aren’t you angry?”

The Murim world. The war between the Murim people and the Demonic Cult eventually broke out, and Mason, battered from his duel with the President, could only watch on his knees.

“Don’t you regret it?”

Cthulhu had been resurrected, and the other gods turned a blind eye. The despair of the people forged Cthulhu even stronger, and in the end, Mason had to abandon that world and flee to save his own life.

“Isn’t it miserable?”

A world filled with zombies. The Destroyer’s trap laced with nanomachines. The people he had saved, even after dying and being resurrected, did not trust each other. They killed each other in the new world he had given them. The only way to be free from distrust and suspicion was to be the sole survivor.

“Isn’t it disappointing?”

Mason had helped people. But people always betrayed his expectations and always disappointed him.

“Are those people…worth saving?”

The fragments of nightmares gathered, forming the shape of Mason.

He looked at Mason with a sneer.

“The people who disappointed you and will disappoint you?”

Mason hesitated.

He loved people, and he helped people.

That fact gave him pride and happiness.

Because everyone he had saved so far was worth saving.

But that was just luck.

He had simply salvaged the people who had been filtered and filtered through the calamity of the Destroyer.

People who, after experiencing pain and disaster, had come to desire nothing but salvation. People who had given up everything but the most basic desire for survival.

That was why they had become people who were good enough to please Mason. Once they found stability and regained their comfort, they might become corrupt again.

The true nature they would reveal then might disappoint Mason…

“But you have the power of a god.”

The nightmare whispered to Mason.

“Castrate their evil. Restrain their greed. Make them happy with everything they have, and satisfied with everything you give them.”

“That’s…that’s…”

His mind was confused due to the overwhelming influx of information. His thoughts weren’t connecting properly.

Even so, he didn’t like it.

He couldn’t explain why he didn’t like it, but he didn’t.

“I…don’t like that…”

Mason stammered, shaking his head.

“I don’t like it…I don’t like it…”

More nightmares flooded in.

Nightmares of people betraying him, disappointing him, driving him to despair.

It was an amount of information that felt like his mind was being bleached.

But even while suffering from nightmares and despair…Mason shook his head.

“I don’t like it…I don’t like it…”

The nightmare looked at Mason.

“Make people good. Make them righteous. Make them honest and simple. Castrate their evil, restrain their greed, and give them heaven.”

“That’s…that’s…”

Mason trembled.

“That’s…no good…”

Within his crumbling mind, there was something shining.

Within his mind that felt like it was being bleached, there was something standing tall.

Something that wouldn’t break or bend, even in the face of a tsunami of malice.

There was something that made Mason, Mason.

It was truly the core of Mason.

Both the nightmare and Mason recognized the existence of this ‘core’.

“Was that slender thing the source of your resistance?”

The sneering nightmare reached out, trying to break Mason’s core.

However, it didn’t break.

Neither the chaos that would rot and decay all gods.

Nor the nightmares that could cover the entire universe.

Could break that core, which looked as slender as a willow branch.

Mason also reached out towards the core.

The nightmare’s and Mason’s hands crossed, both grasping the core.

At that moment, Mason felt the voice of the core.

‘Thank you.’

It was the voice of the people.

It was the gratitude of those who had been saved from despair and fear.

‘I love you.’

It was the voice of Yekaterina, the Heavenly Demon Seo Yeonhee.

It was the voice of those who loved Mason, even in ruin, even in nightmares.

At that moment, the core stretched out in all directions, connecting beyond the nightmare to somewhere else.

It was a bond. A connection.

“I am not alone.”

Within the storm of encroaching malice, Mason slowly rose, entrusting himself to the core.

“People led me! People lifted me up!”

Human (人) between (間) people, hence human (人間).

Mason roared.

“People! The people I love! The people who loved me! The people I helped and can help!”

The core grew thicker. It was growing into a giant tree that no storm could break, a giant tree that emitted a noble light that no chaos could corrupt.

“They guide me! They support me!”

The god who served the people clenched his fists.

Then the nightmare shouted,

“They will disappoint you!”

“Then I won’t be disappointed!”

At that moment, Seo Yeonhee, formed from Mason’s mind, appeared and struck the nightmare.

Bang!

The world of nightmares shook.

“They will turn their backs on you!”

“Then I won’t turn my back on them!”

Pak!

Deroa, formed from Mason’s mind, roundhouse kicked the nightmare’s shin.

The world of nightmares began to crack.

The nightmare screamed in defiance,

“You can’t save the world. You’re weak!”

“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter even if I am!”

Mason reached out his hand.

“Because I won’t give up!”

Towards Mason’s outstretched hand, countless other hands began to reach out. All those he had tried to save, had saved, and would save in the future were connecting.

It was the heart of the people.

It was the will of people to walk towards tomorrow, even if disappointed by today.

It was the will of people to rise again, even if frustrated and despairing.

Mason extended his fist, wrapped in that will, and that fist became an infinite number of fists, reaching out towards the nightmare.

Kwachang!

As the world of nightmares shattered, Mason roared,

“For the sake of those who look at me and don’t give up, I will not give up either!”

He saw the image of Yekaterina smiling at him from afar.

And Mason, smiling, took a step forward.

Towards reality.

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“Cough! Ugh!”

Mason vomited out chaos.

“Oztalon…?”

The Elder Gods expressed both bewilderment and admiration.

“He has returned, Father of All Things!”

“I see it too.”

Nodens quickly layered space, sealing the chaos that Mason had vomited.

“Is this…reality?”

“Dreamland. On top of my body.”

At Nodens’ words, Mason gave a bitter smile.

“You’re alive, Nodens.”

“Yes. I’m barely alive.”

Mason realized that someone was holding his hand.

“…Deroa.”

She was unconscious, holding onto Mason’s hand.

Nodens spoke in a calm voice.

“Congratulate your High Priest. She’s been continuously transferring divine power to you. Ignoring the risk of being corrupted herself.”

“I see.”

Mason stroked Deroa’s hair.

“So, I didn’t wake up on my own after all.”

Mason lifted Deroa into his arms and stood up.

He looked at Nodens.

“So, what do we do now?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Nodens said with an impassive face.

“We have to save the world.”