Chapter One: The Hapless Priest

All his life, Link had considered himself just an ordinary person—a cog in society’s machine, a model youth of the eighties generation, a good brother to the people. He’d already resigned himself to living an unremarkable, peaceful existence. But why did something as absurd as transmigration have to happen to him?

Link pondered endlessly, from ancient theology to modern science, from Darwin’s theory of evolution to the possibility of extraterrestrial life, then from capitalism to—well, he lost the thread. In the end, Link came to an understanding: Everything, from the dawn of humanity, stemmed from a single, ever-present proposition—accident!

By accident, Link was transmigrated. By accident, he found himself in an unfamiliar world called Soraqun. By accident, he ended up in the body of a hapless church priest.

Of course, as a man both mentally and physically healthy, he had no interest in becoming a celibate charlatan, let alone a fake monk. The problem was, he’d brought along a most exasperating system upon his transmigration.

Before crossing over, Link had been playing a knock-off browser game—“knock-off” was generous, really, since all the items and graphics were blatantly copied, much like most browser games these days.

Yet the gameplay was oddly novel: players had to create and develop a religion in-game, and once their faith reached two billion followers, they could ascend in broad daylight and become a true deity.

Whether one could really become a god, Link didn’t know, but the novelty had drawn him in. He’d barely created his character when a storm of lightning and thunder crashed around him—and then, regrettably, he was transmigrated.

Even more regrettable, the knock-off game’s system had been dragged along for the ride, announcing itself with smug rhetoric once Link discovered it.

Another system, another host-tormenting system! Though it wouldn’t kill him outright, becoming a vegetable was hardly a better fate. What an abominable, melodramatic twist!

Link was horrified, furious, and helpless; he certainly didn’t dare test whether the system could truly reduce him to a vegetative state.

“Ah, looks like I have no choice but to play the charlatan,” Link sighed helplessly, his gaze drifting to the mirror beside him.

Reflected there was a youth in black priest’s robes—Link’s new body. He looked about sixteen, his features nearly identical to Link’s original self: black hair, black eyes—an Eastern face, just much younger. For a moment, Link even wondered if he’d transmigrated with his body intact.

This body belonged to a boy named Neil Night—a tragic figure. Frail and sickly since childhood, he’d lived in a poor church with little nutrition. Not long ago, the old priest fell gravely ill and passed the priesthood to Neil, who then died himself from grief, just as Link arrived—and so the body came to him.

“Brother Neil, are you in there?” A clear, bell-like voice of a young girl rang from outside the door.

“I’m here.” Link responded, stepping forward to open the door. In the doorway stood a girl of thirteen or fourteen—a novice nun.

She had beautiful red hair, with a hint of mixed heritage, and was exceedingly cute. Unless something unexpected happened, she was destined to be a stunning beauty in the future, an internet goddess in the making. Of course, that was all for the future. For now, she was merely a girl in the throes of growth—Link’s nominal sister, Aria Night, the church’s first and only nun.

Incidentally, besides Aria and Link, the church had no third member; they were on the brink of starvation, with barely any followers. Put in business terms, the church was on the verge of bankruptcy.

The more Link thought about it, the more miserable he felt. How had he ended up as the priest of such a dilapidated church? Other transmigrators landed in wealthy families or among nobility; at worst, they became disciples of prominent sects. Why did he have to be a penniless priest, bound to a wretched system? Was he destined to be the patron saint of misery?

The more he dwelled on it, the more desolate he felt, a gloomy cloud settling over his face.

Seeing Link deep in thought and growing more dejected after opening the door, Aria’s expression became anxious. “Brother Neil, what’s wrong? Did I disturb you?”

Link snapped out of it at her words, waving a hand. “No, I was just thinking about the church’s situation. It’s giving me a headache, that’s all.”

“Oh, I see.” Aria’s expression brightened with understanding, and she offered a gentle, encouraging smile: “Don’t worry, Brother Neil. I believe as long as we work hard together, the church will regain the glory it had when Father was alive.”

At that, Link thought to himself: “It wasn’t exactly glorious when that old man was alive, was it?” The so-called father was Barrett Night, the previous priest, who had adopted both Neil and Aria as orphans and raised them as his own.

Though Link had little fondness for priesthood, he had to admit Barrett had been a truly good man—one who devoted everything to alleviating the suffering of the world. Unfortunately, greatness of character didn’t equate to ability, and he left behind a mess for Link and Aria to clean up.

Of course, Link wouldn’t disparage Barrett in front of Aria. After her words of encouragement, he smiled and nodded, then asked, “By the way, Aria, did you need something?”

Aria slapped her forehead. “Oh, I almost forgot! Brother Neil, Father Dubai from the Church of the God of War is here to see you. He said he has something to discuss with you.”

“Father Dubai from the Church of the God of War?” Link’s eyes narrowed.

The world of Soraqun, unlike some fantasy novels Link had read, was saturated with religions—countless faiths, big and small, numbering in the tens of thousands, even more than the myriad sects of ancient China. Even in this small town of Qinke, with just over six thousand inhabitants, four different religions had established a presence.

Competition among peers was inevitable. The four churches vied for followers and influence, leading to inevitable friction. The Church of the Star God, to which Link now belonged, and the Church of the God of War, were not on good terms—doctrinal disputes saw to that. For Father Dubai to visit now, it was plain to see he came with ill intent.

After a moment’s thought, Link said, “Aria, I’ll go see Father Dubai. You should go tidy up the rooms.”

“Huh? Don’t you want me to make some tea?”

“No need.” Link allowed a trace of a cold smile. “I doubt Father Dubai is in the mood for tea.”

Aria looked even more puzzled, but she didn’t question him further. She trusted her brother implicitly, and so nodded and went to clean up.

Link proceeded to the church’s front hall, where a man in his forties stood gazing at the emblem of the Star God—a five-pointed star. In the world of Soraqun, most gods had no distinct image, only an emblem to represent them.

Drawing on Neil’s memories, Link recognized the man as Father Dubai of the Church of the God of War. He approached with a smile. “Welcome, Father Dubai. What brings you here? Have you heard the call of the Star God and wish to convert?”

Dubai turned, returning the smile. “Ha, young Neil, you’re quite the joker. My soul and life belong to the mighty God of War—how could I join another faith? But you, Neil—you’ve only just become a priest. Would you like to join our church? If you agree, I’ll recommend you to the bishop, and you’ll become a priest of the Church of the God of War.”

Link shook his head with a smile. “Thank you for the offer, Father Dubai, but I have no intention of joining another church. And as I am now a priest, please address me as Father Neil.” His tone brooked no argument.

Dubai was taken aback, scrutinizing Link anew, a hint of suspicion in his eyes. According to his understanding, Neil was always polite but never assertive—no, not even polite, just meek and easily bullied. But today, he was so forceful?

“Is the boy just putting on airs? That must be it. Someone as spineless as him couldn’t possibly grow a backbone overnight.”

After pondering, Dubai reassured himself with this explanation, a flash of disdain crossing his eyes before he masked it with another smile. “Very well, Father Neil, you’re right. It was inappropriate of me. Now, to business: isn’t it time to repay the loan your church took half a year ago?”

Link paused, then recalled from Neil’s memories: because Barrett was hopeless with finances, the church’s accounts had been in the red for years. To keep things running, Barrett had mortgaged the church to borrow money from Dubai, promising that if he couldn’t repay within six months, the Church of the God of War could claim the building. Now the deadline had arrived, Barrett was dead, and Dubai had come to seize his chance to swallow up the Star God’s church.

Link cursed Barrett’s incompetence inwardly. No matter how poor you are, you don’t mortgage your only property—much less to a competitor! If that’s not giving your rival a golden opportunity to devour you, what is?