Chapter 1
It was my third year in this medieval magical world, and my mother had turned into a holy roller.
Every day, she dragged me to the Cathedral of Dawn before dawn, and we would kneel for six hours on end.
My knees were covered in thick calluses, yet our family remained dirt poor.
Finally, I'd had enough.
I slipped outside the confessional and grumbled out loud.
"What's the point of praying to the god? Mom has prayed her whole life, and we haven't gotten even a single gold coin as a blessing."
Right then, a deep voice drifted down from above.
"I've been standing behind you for three seconds."
I stiffly turned around, only to meet the Divine One's half-smiling eyes.
I was doomed.
Not only would I never get rich, but I might not even make it out alive this time.
*****
I was kneeling on the freezing stone floor, my knees sore as hell from the hard slabs digging in.
The whole place reeked of musty old incense, thick enough to make my head spin.
My mom, well, the mom I had in this world, was at it again, doing her daily prayers.
Every day, she'd yank me out of bed before sunrise and make me kneel there for six hours straight.
It was my third year in this hellhole, and the calluses on my knees were thicker than all the code I'd ever written in my previous life.
We were so broke that all we had left was our faith.
But faith couldn't put food on the table.
Today, I couldn't take it anymore.
While my mom was off grabbing our charity black bread, I slipped over to the confessional at the back of the cathedral.
I didn't go in. I just stood in front of the shut little door, grumbling under my breath.
"What's the use of believing in the god, anyway?
"My mom's been praying her whole life, and she's never even gotten a single penny for it.
"We pray every day, but our bellies are still empty.
"Either the Lord is blind, or He's long gone.
"High up there, watching us struggle. Does it amuse you?
"Doesn't do jack."
I cussed myself dry, but at least I got some of that frustration off my chest.
Just as I was about to slip away, a voice floated down from above.
It was soft, yet it pierced straight through my eardrums like an ice pick.
"I've been standing behind you for three seconds."
My blood froze, every hair on my body shooting straight up.
I was too scared to turn around.
No one else could be on this path leading to the confession room but me.
The voice wasn't coming from the left or the right; it was directly above me, as if someone was speaking into the back of my skull.
I turned, my neck creaking as if it hadn't moved in years.
And then I saw a man.
He had no feet; his body was hovering half a foot off the ground.
His white robe was simple in style, but the fabric was so fine it didn't seem like anything a mortal could own, giving off a faint glow in the dim hallway.
He was so tall I had to crane my neck all the way back to see his face.
And that face defied description.
"Handsome" didn't even begin to cover it.
But it was his eyes that really grabbed me.
They were pure gold, not a speck of anything else in them.
There was no anger, no contempt, only a lofty amusement that saw through everything.
He looked at me like I was a helpless rabbit, squirming in a trap.
A faint, almost invisible smile touched the corner of his mouth.
All I could think was: I was done for.
In a world ruled by the Divine One, blasphemy was the ultimate sin.
Blasphemers would be tied to the stake and burned alive until they turned to charred ashes.
My legs trembled, my teeth chattering uncontrollably.
"G-Great Divine One," I stammered, barely able to stand upright.
He tilted his head, the amusement in those golden eyes growing. "You just called me useless, huh?"
His voice remained soft, yet held a strange texture as if it echoed straight within my soul.
I jolted, my mind wiped totally blank.
I knew begging and making excuses were all useless.
Before absolute power, all words rang hollow.
I shut my eyes, waiting for divine punishment to descend.
Maybe it'd be a lightning strike, or a fireball.
Let death come. At least I'd never go hungry again.
Three seconds passed, yet the expected pain never came.
I cracked one eye open a bit.
He hadn't moved a muscle, watching me with that same amused look.
"You don't seem to fear death," he said.
What was the worst that could happen now?
I forced myself to stand straight.
"Yeah, I'm scared. But being scared won't fix a thing.
"If you don't finish me off today, I'll starve to death in a few days anyway.
"Dead is dead, no matter how it happens," I said, my voice raspy with nerves.
That not-quite-a-smile on his lips stretched wider.
"Interesting," he said, like he was checking out a shiny new toy.
He paused. "You're the first human who's had the guts to talk trash about me right to my face.
"As a reward for your courage..."
He stretched out a slender finger, more exquisite than the finest sculpture.
A soft golden light gathered at his fingertip.
I thought he was about to strike and instinctively drew my neck in.
But the light faded, leaving a gold coin resting between his fingers.