Might of Players

---Viktor's POV---

The appearance of deities stemmed from the beliefs of their followers. Even for the same deity and within the same church, the statues dedicated to them could vary.

Especially now, 600 years after the death of the God of Light.

Followers' interpretations of his appearance relied entirely on boundless imagination.

This had even led to the bizarre phenomenon where the God of Light, Aureal—a male deity—was honored by his followers with a statue of a goddess.

"Seeing your old boss again, how does it feel?" I asked mischievously.

"Not great," Edgar replied coldly. "Tear it down."

"Though I don't know where you'll find the manpower for that, since this is now our territory, there's no reason for a church or statue to remain here," he added.

"And give up our shelter? I may be undead, but even I appreciate a roof," I refused his suggestion. "It's the only structure here that can shield us from the elements."

I circled the statue twice, my joints creaking with every step. Any further movement, and I might fall apart.

"You're in worse shape than usual," Edgar observed.

"What gave it away? The fact that I'm literally falling apart?" I chuckled dryly. "Hiss... This time, the injuries are a bit severe."

You know you're having a bad day when your bones sound like a rusty door hinge orchestra.

I stopped in my tracks, conceding to my battered state. I estimated that I'd only walked a few hundred meters, but my stamina had already reached its limit. The backlash this time was truly harsh. But, conveniently, it gave me an excuse to slack off.

Rubbing my chin, I muttered, "This goddess statue isn't half bad. Let's repurpose it as a mascot. It just needs some modifications."

"Since when did you develop an interest in interior decoration?" Edgar raised an eyebrow.

"Seven hundred years is a long time. I've picked up a few hobbies."

Faith, as a source of power, was broad and diverse. Even the simple affection players had for a game or its characters could be converted into faith energy. While such energy was faint and impure, it was still usable.

"With the right tweaks, this statue could gather faith from an entirely different crowd."

Edgar turned his head to scrutinize me, surprised. "You're planning to work for a god for free?"

I could understand his confusion. After all, this was a statue of the God of Light. The faith energy it attracted could only be absorbed by the God of Light. He probably thought I should know that by now.

"Of course not," I shot him a look as if to say, 'What are you thinking?'

"Haven't you noticed how weird I've been acting these past two days? Aren't you curious who my 'helper' is?"

Edgar's expression was perplexed. "Besides the usual eccentricities?"

I almost laughed. When haven't I acted weird? As a 700-year-old undead, I was always spouting strange phrases that a 200-year-old "youngster" like Edgar couldn't comprehend—probably what he considered trendy slang from the Age of the Gods.

"Does that really need asking?" I countered. "Then what if I told you I've obtained the God of Creativity's divine essence? That I can now become a god myself and absorb the faith energy from this statue? Would you believe me?"

Edgar's expression instantly darkened, his hand moving to his sword. "If this is your idea of a joke..."

"When have I ever joked about becoming what we've fought against for centuries?"

"Exactly why this is concerning. Are you suicidal?"

I knew exactly what he was thinking. This wasn't just about their Watcher leader betraying the organization by becoming a god after vowing to fight the gods to the end—it was personal.

He knew my circumstances like the back of his hand. Long ago, during the Age of the Gods, the deities had marked me as a vessel for their rebirth. My body was covered in their seals.

If I obtained divine essence and ascended, the authority over world laws granted by the essence would belong to the god associated with it. Once ascended, my consciousness would be replaced—by that god's!

For others, ascension meant eternal life. For me, it meant death.

"Really? Seven centuries of friendship, and you think I'd throw it away for godhood?"

Edgar's grip on his sword tightened, his expression grim. "If you really have this idea, you shouldn't have asked me to save you. I can't defeat a god if he wakes up in your body."

If I were still human, I would have twitched at the corner of my mouth.

"Do I seem like the kind of person who, on the brink of death, would make trouble for the living?"

Edgar nodded firmly.

I stood there speechless. It was one thing to have a bad reputation outside, but even within the organization?

"Some divine artifact this turned out to be. Can't even manage a decent light show." I pulled out a pale golden orb from my body, tossing it casually. This was my latest discovery—Aeceus' divine essence, a physical entity that could be separated from my body.

"You seriously believed me when I said I'd obtained Aeceus' divine essence? Well, close enough—I've got a fragment of it. And it's sentient."

The orb sat in my hand, radiating a defeated aura. Ever since I got my hands on it, I'd been treating it like a toy, tossing it around without a shred of dignity befitting a divine artifact.

By now, it had grown numb.

"A sentient divine essence?"

The moment Edgar laid eyes on it, I could see him notice something unusual about the orb, his pupils dilating slightly.

"How can divine essence gain sentience?!"

I understood his confusion.

Divine essence is merely a vessel for holding the power of law. Even gods can only wield the power contained within it. If divine essence developed consciousness, then who would be the real god? If the essence rejected the god, could ordinary people then wield its power?

"Think of it as divine unemployment. The essence got fired from its job as Aeceus' power source."

"This is serious."

"I am being serious. Dead serious, you might say."

The very idea was absurd. The laws of the world would never allow such an entity to exist. But the orb undeniably contained the pure power of a god. As a former paladin, Edgar was utterly baffled.

"Turns out, the impossible happened," I spread my hands. "Maybe the world's will accidentally fell asleep?"

After Edgar recovered from his initial shock, I explained my plan. Now that the divine essence had gained sentience, it could no longer accept faith energy from the God of Creativity's original followers—not that it had many to begin with.

Despite having the same rank as the God of Light in ancient times, the God of Creativity remained a niche deity, nearly forgotten by most.

"This is exactly why the God of Light's statue is perfect," I said, tapping the orb thoughtfully. "The essence might be from a minor god, but divine power follows similar principles. Think of it like redirecting a river—it doesn't care what you name it, it'll still flow. With some modifications to this statue, we can tap into the massive faith network the God of Light left behind."

For instance, by placing the orb in the goddess's hands—it would be rebranded as the divine essence's statue and start absorbing faith energy. Why build a new faith network when you could repurpose an existing one?

After listening, Edgar fell silent.

The muted orb, unable to speak, looked at him with tearful eyes. I could tell it was excited about gaining new divine power. For the first time, leaving the Divine Realm didn't seem like such a bad decision for it.

Even though its life now rested entirely in my hands, it seemed to think I was a decent person. I was even building it a statue!

After a long pause, Edgar finally spoke. "The plan is highly feasible, but... are we really going to tread the same path as the gods?"

"We're not becoming them, we're beating them at their own game."

"There's a fine line—"

"Between resistance and replacement? The line's only fine if you're not paying attention."

I understood his concern. The Watchers were founded to safeguard the future of our own species and resist the gods' interference. Now, we were essentially nurturing a god-like divine essence ourselves... This went against everything Edgar believed in when he joined the Watchers.

Veins popped on my forehead. "Next time, before you speak, make sure you're not wearing that 'if you agree, I'll quit the Watchers immediately' expression."

"I haven't forgotten the Watchers' original mission."

"Reform isn't something that happens overnight. When necessary, we can absolutely use the gods' power. There's no need to avoid it entirely."

I glanced down at the muted orb in my hand. Take this, for example. It was an excellent tool, almost as if it had been tailor-made for me.

"Heroes who slay dragons eventually become dragons themselves," Edgar reminded me.

And sometimes, I thought as I watched the orb's faint glow, that might not be such a bad thing.

I knew what he meant.

At first, we might only see the orb as a tool. But in the end... who could say whether I might grow addicted to divine power? And whether the Watcher members feeding it faith energy might eventually transform into the very zealots we once despised?

"Don't worry about this," I said, the crimson flames in my eye sockets burning intensely despite my skeletal face showing no other emotion.

"No one knows the tricks of the divine essence better than I do. If I were going to be tempted, I would've given up six hundred years ago!"

Edgar shifted uncomfortably. "Experience doesn't make you immune to temptation."

"No, but it makes me excellent at spotting it coming." And even better at dealing with it.

I knew what I was talking about. During my first hundred years after being transported to Aeltia, I had experienced firsthand the overwhelming power of the divine essence. I hadn't given in then, and I wasn't about to now.

"I'm neither a hero nor a villainous dragon," I continued. "As for you and our new recruits, you have even less to worry about. The fact that you grew up in environments steeped in religion yet still recognized the risks posed by the divine essence and chose to join me—that alone is a form of screening. And as for the helpers who are about to arrive... they're the same."

"Think about it—who joins an organization hunted by the entire world?" I spread my bony arms wide.

"The desperate. The vengeful," Edgar replied quietly.

"The ones who can see through religious manipulation. The ones who think for themselves."

Edgar fell silent for a moment.

I could tell he was processing my words. Given that The Watchers were hunted and condemned by the entire world, anyone who'd stuck with the organization this long was unlikely to be brainwashed into becoming a fanatic.

He also knew my personality quite well—my earlier comment had been deliberately aimed at the incoming reinforcements.

"How can you guarantee that these new helpers will be reliable?" he asked. After all, The Watchers had dealt with traitors in the past. None had escaped the test of time, but the scars still lingered.

I couldn't help but grin. "They're absolutely reliable. Because they come from the same place as me."

The soon-to-arrive players from Earth. I trusted them more than 80% of the grim, dark, and brutal population of Aeltia.

Edgar looked astonished. "And where is that?"

"Some memories are better left buried. Like my fashion choices from seven centuries ago." I tried to keep my tone light, but something must have slipped through.

It was the first time I'd mentioned my homeland to him. I knew he'd been curious about the country that had produced an undead with such unconventional and rebellious views. But I'd always kept my lips sealed.

He probably assumed my homeland had been destroyed centuries ago.

I chuckled, feeling a warmth I rarely experienced anymore. "It's a place Aeltia couldn't even imagine—a land where atheism dominates. In that place, people don't pin all their hopes on gods who treat humanity like ants. They emphasize personal effort and tangible actions."

"Sounds like chaos," Edgar muttered.

"Beautiful, productive chaos. Progress doesn't come from divine handouts. When divine essence fails to help them, they abandon it without hesitation, instead of endlessly sacrificing themselves in vain. It's a civilization that belongs purely to humanity!"

Edgar listened quietly, carving a piece of marble from the doorframe into a makeshift stool with careful precision.

I sat down unceremoniously. "Thanks!"

"I've never seen you like this," Edgar said softly.

"Like what? Nostalgic? Sentimental? Don't worry, it'll pass."

"No, genuinely happy. I can tell you really love your homeland," Edgar said.

I knew I was always quick to laugh, but my usual smiles never reached my eyes. Past experiences weighed on me like a heavy stone tethered to my emotions. If not for the metaphorical thread holding that stone in place, I might have lost my sanity long ago.

I fell silent for a moment before speaking with my usual nonchalance. "People are like that. Only after losing something do they know to cherish it. Luckily, I've lost so much that I don't even have time to cherish everything. And the upside of losing everything? You learn to travel light."

Suddenly, a blue orb of light in my inner sanctum trembled.

"Oh, shoot! I almost forgot—the beta test registration is about to close!"

I immediately turned my attention away from Edgar, opening the Chronicles of Aeltia website I had built myself. The registration count displayed a solid 3.

"What the heck? Three people actually signed up!" I exclaimed in surprise. "Three players! Three beautiful, possibly desperate, definitely questionable-taste-having players!"

"Is that... good?" Edgar asked cautiously.

"It's more than I expected with my web design skills."

Since my programming skills were still rusty, the website's homepage looked like a post-apocalyptic wasteland. On the first day, no one had signed up, and I had been prepared to take it slow and rebrand the game to ride the next trend.

But now, three fools—no, three discerning visionaries—had discovered my game.

What was I waiting for?

I immediately set the beta test date for two days later on Earth, or four days later in Aeltia. Then I fixed my gaze on Edgar.

"Our reinforcements are coming!"

Edgar was stunned. "Already?"

I could see the confusion on his face—he hadn't seen me contact anyone, so how had news of reinforcements arrived so suddenly?

I closed the website and said gravely, "The situation is urgent. They'll arrive in four days, and we must be fully prepared by then!"

Edgar frowned. "Can't they come a bit later? Four days is too tight."

"Time waits for no undead! Besides, I've procrastinated enough already. So, hurry up and get moving. First, we need to modify the statue in front of us—carve a glowing orb into it." I pointed to the lifeless orb in my hand.

"Then, clear out the church so I can set up the forbidden magic that will summon them. I'd help with the cleaning, but I'm allergic to manual labor."

Edgar raised an eyebrow. "You're undead. You don't have allergies."

"I developed them specifically for this occasion."

The church was a mess—though its doors were intact, many of its upper windows were broken, leaving the interior littered with debris, damage, and the filth of flying monsters. Apart from the entrance, there wasn't a single spot fit for standing. The whole place needed a thorough cleaning before we could proceed with any of our plans.

"Finally, drive away all Tier-3 or higher monsters in the vicinity of Honeyvale Town. The players can't handle them yet. I'm injured, so I'll sit out the fighting."

"Oh, and I'll give you a lore manual later. When speaking to them, stick strictly to the descriptions in the manual."

I glanced at the orb in my palm. "You'll get a copy too."

The orb, which had resigned itself to being my passive accessory, suddenly jumped up, both shocked and delighted.

"I have a role too?" it asked.

"Congratulations! You've been promoted from divine paperweight to game mascot."

"You're enjoying this too much," Edgar muttered.

"Seven hundred years of waiting for this moment. Let me have this."

As the deity of the starter village in Chronicles of Aeltia and the game's mascot, the orb was an indispensable asset. Without it, Edgar and I alone wouldn't stand a chance against the chaos of the incoming players.

Seeing Edgar still frowning, clearly uneasy about the four-day deadline, I immediately stood up and painted a vision of the future, my tone filled with earnest conviction.

"Trust me. If we work hard for these four days, once they arrive—you'll see that my vision of the future isn't empty talk. Humanity doesn't need divine essence to thrive."

Edgar's expression softened. I could tell he had fallen for this sort of pitch before—otherwise, he wouldn't have joined The Watchers.

"What kind of warriors are these reinforcements?" he asked curiously.

I knew he wanted to gather some intel in advance. After all, showing respect to far-off allies would help with future cooperation. By his expression, I could tell he was imagining them as valiant warriors, unwavering in their fight against the divine essence for the future of humanity.

"I've been waiting two days for you to ask that!"

I could see the ominous sense of foreboding on Edgar's face, but it was too late. I rubbed my hands together gleefully, grinning like an Earth salesman who just found their next target.

"Friend, have you ever heard of the Nerds?"