Alistair’s mind went blank for a moment after hearing the man’s answer. A god? He’s dead? It sounded like nonsense. Yet, just a minute ago, he had been dying, and now here he was—without a mark on his body. Could it be because he had actually died? Was this supposed to be the afterlife?
Alistair stared at the man. He wasn’t a religious person—he didn’t participate in any religious practices. That didn’t mean he didn’t believe in a god. In fact, he did, or more precisely, a goddess.
“What did you do back then?” the "god" asked Alistair again.
“What do you mean?” Alistair had plenty of questions for this being, but for now, he would try to answer the man.
“That last skill you cast—what was it?”
The question startled Alistair. If he had found the "god" suspicious before, this question made him seem even more so.
“What kind of god are you?” Alistair asked. “If you’re really a god, you should know what skill that was.”
No sooner had Alistair spoken than the "god" suddenly raised his right hand toward him. Alistair felt his whole body constrict. Slowly, he was lifted off the ground. As the "god" began to close his hand, the pressure on Alistair increased. He was already struggling to breathe.
“Let me ask you something,” the man said, his voice now laced with anger. “What do you think will happen when my hand fully closes?”
“What would happen?” A new voice echoed through the cave—gentle and warm, in stark contrast to the tension that filled the air moments before.
The man released his grip, and Alistair collapsed to the ground, panting, while staring daggers at the man. But then, he sensed another presence. He turned his head and saw a woman standing nearby.
Alistair gasped, his eyes widening. The woman was strikingly beautiful and tall—only a head shorter than him. Her long, bright red hair was tied back, a vivid contrast to her pale, almost porcelain skin. She wore simple leather light armor, though she carried no visible weapons. A plain circlet rested on her brow, adorned with a small red gem at its center.
It took Alistair a moment to realize that he had mistaken the woman for someone else. He sighed, closing his eyes.
“So, what would’ve happened?” the woman’s melodious voice asked the man again.
“Ma’am, we were just messing around,” the man replied. Alistair opened his eyes and glanced at him. The man was no longer sitting; he now stood beside the woman, his hands clasped behind his back, head slightly bowed. Alistair realized the man was subservient to her.
“He’s my chosen champion, you know. I thought I’d already told you how important he is?” The woman spoke to the man without looking at him, her gaze fixed on Alistair. When their eyes met, she smiled at him.
Alistair pushed himself up, now observing the exchange more closely. He still couldn’t see the man’s face clearly, but he sensed the man was very nervous.
The woman turned her gaze to the man, startling him. “You know the situation, right? I would be sad if we lost a valuable fighting force,” she said warmly.
The man glanced at Alistair. “I don’t know about that, ma’am. Do you really think this man has the potential to be a good fighting force?”
The woman chuckled, covering her mouth with her hand. “I was talking about you, silly,” she said, placing her hand on the man’s shoulder. Though her voice remained warm, her stare turned cold.
Alistair could tell the man was even more nervous now.
“I... I apologize, ma’am. You’re right. It won’t happen again.” The man lowered his head in submission.
“Oh, it’s okay.” The woman smiled at the man and removed her hand from his shoulder. “Can you make the preparations? I need to speak with him now.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ve already col—” Before the man could finish, the woman waved her hand, and he vanished.
Now, only the two of them remained in the cave. The woman looked around with mild distaste and sighed. Then, with a graceful wave of her hand, the cave changed. "Much better," she said.
The cold, stale air of the cave vanished, replaced by a soft breeze carrying the scent of wildflowers. Alistair blinked, momentarily disoriented, as sunlight bathed his skin, and his feet now stood on warm, sunlit grass.
They now stood on soft, green grass beneath the shade of a massive tree. In the distance, a vast, calm lake stretched out, its surface shimmering in the sunlight. A small circular table with two chairs sat beside the tree as if it had always been there, blending seamlessly with the peaceful surroundings.
Alistair waved his hand through the air, feeling the warmth of the breeze on his skin, a stark contrast to the cold, damp air he had felt just moments before. It was as if the oppressive cave had never existed.
The woman gestured toward one of the chairs as she gracefully seated herself. “Please, would you sit with me?” she asked, her voice warm and inviting. Somehow, her tone now sounded far more sincere than when she had spoken to the man before.
“I understand that all of this must be very confusing for you,” the woman said, her voice soft and reassuring. “But rest assured, I will explain everything in due time. Feel free to ask any questions you may have.”
After considering it for a moment, Alistair realized he didn’t really have any other options. So, he walked to the table and sat down. “Am I dead? Where am I?” he asked.
“It’s a bit complicated. The answer is no, you’re not dead—but you will be soon. Right now, the spell you cast is in the process of disintegrating your body. The ‘you’ sitting here now isn’t your physical body; this is the manifestation of your soul. The man from before removed your soul before your body died and placed it in this pocket dimension.”
“What do you mean by ‘in the process’?” Alistair asked.
“The time in this world runs at a different pace from your world. While we’re talking here, time in your world is crawling by, almost as if it’s stopped.”
The explanation left Alistair more confused than ever. After a moment, he continued with more questions. “Who are you?”
The woman smiled again. “Who do you think I am?” she asked playfully.
He thought about it before answering. “You’re the goddess.”
“Goddess of your world? No, I’m afraid not,” the woman replied, knocking on the table twice.
Alistair found the action strange, but it wasn’t the strangest thing happening right now. The woman continued, her tone patient and steady. “My name is Meera, and I’m not of your world.”
“So, you’re a goddess from another world? Like that man from before?” Alistair asked.
“No, I’m not a goddess. And that man—Kotan—he isn’t a god either,” she replied.
“He claimed he was a god. Was he lying?”
“Not exactly. He’s an admin, and some admins do consider themselves gods.”
“What’s an admin?”
“Short for administrator. In this context, an admin is like a ‘god,’ but only in the sense of managing the world.”
“So, you’re saying the goddess of my world is an admin?”
“Yes, precisely.”
“Okay, so why are you here, talking to me? What do you want from me?” Alistair asked.
The woman’s expression softened, and for a moment, she seemed to hesitate. The light breeze that had been gently swaying the grass around them stilled, as though the air itself was holding its breath. Without a word, she slowly reached across the table and took Alistair’s hands in hers. She squeezed them softly; her skin was noticeably warmer than Alistair had expected.
“Before we talk about that, there’s something I need to tell you.” She looked directly into Alistair’s eyes; her gaze unwavering.
“I. Cannot. Lie,” she said, each word deliberate, carefully articulated. Then she gently rubbed his hand one more time before letting go and leaning back slightly.
“You can’t lie to me?” Alistair asked, trying to process what she had just said. He glanced down at his own hands.
“I can’t lie. Ever.”
“So admins can’t lie?”
“That’s not true. You’ve seen Kotan lie to me before.”
“So, it’s just you who can’t lie?”
The woman nodded. “Yes, and I need you to understand that so we can start off on the right foot.” Her voice remained soft.
“Well, how do I know you really can’t lie?” Alistair asked.
“Because I told you, and you’re listening to me. And now, in your heart, you’ve already realized that I was telling the truth.”
Alistair paused for a moment. Meera was right. When she claimed she couldn’t lie, he could feel, deep down, that she had been truthful.
“The hand holding?” he asked.
“Yes, I simply connected our souls for that brief moment when I made the statement. Cool, right?” Meera smiled brightly.
“So, you’re telling me I can trust you blindly?”
“No. I’m telling you that I can only speak the truth. But that doesn’t mean I can’t deceive.”
“I see. So, if I pay attention to what you say, it should be safe to trust you.”
Meera responded with a big smile. “Precisely.”
“I see. You told that… Kotan guy before, that I was your champion. What does that mean?”
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
“It means that I want you to replace the admin of this world. And that happened by combat, hence ‘champion’. I want you to defeat the so-called ‘goddess’ of this world.”
Alistair fell into deep thought. “Do you... know much about me?”
“I have some information about you. Yes, I know you’ve had a past relationship with the ‘goddess.’ I know that you are the oldest man to ever live in this world. And I know that your class isn’t Spearman or any variation of it.” Meera paused, watching Alistair closely.
“I know that your class is Hero.”
____________________________________
Alistair stared at the woman. After dropping that revelation, she had gone silent. She simply looked at him, calm and patient, waiting for his response.
Alistair turned to gaze at the distant lake, lost in thought. That was... unexpected. Many in his household knew his secret about his age, but he was certain no one alive knew about his class. It had been centuries since he’d last spoken of it. He shifted his gaze back to Meera. Now, he found himself wondering if this woman was truly a goddess.
“I guess you know everything, then,” Alistair said, his tone carefully controlled.
“No. I only have general, surface-level information about you. I don’t know the details, and there are gaps in what I do know. For instance, I don’t know where you were born. I don’t know what happened to you after the ‘incident’ with the goddess. And I certainly don’t know how much influence you actually wield in that kingdom.”
Alistair tilted his head, puzzled. “How does that work? You know something as deep as my class and past, but not more common details?”
"The order is reversed. I didn’t seek out a hero and then find you. I found you, the strongest man in the world, and chose you as my champion. It was only after that that I saw your class and worked my way back from there."
"You saw my class?"
"Yes, I can peek at your status window."
She can see his status window. How is that not divine? Alistair heaved a sigh. It had been a long time, actually, since he last opened his own status window.
Page 1/3
Name:
Age:
Class:
Level:
Bernard (Bernard)
957 years
Hero
??
HP:
MP:
6 / 1 000
85 / 1 000
Status:
Poisoned
Wounded (dying)
Mana exhaustion
Movement restriction (area)
Fire vulnerability (area)
"Hmm? Are you opening your status window right now? Mind if I take a look?” Meera asked, standing and leaning toward him, her eyes bright with curiosity.
"I thought you could see my status window."
"I can peek at some of it. I can see things like your class and level, but that’s it."
Alistair considered this for a moment. "Alright, how do I show you my status window?"
Meera extended her right hand toward him. Alistair looked at it for a few seconds, hesitant. She opened and closed her hand a few times, smiling. "No need to be shy."
He finally took her hand.
"Oh? Now that's interesting. Mmhmm..." She began muttering to herself.
Alistair glanced at their hands, now intertwined. "So, you can see my status window when our souls are connected like this?"
"Hmm? Oh, no. I just need to connect to your soul while you open your status window to give myself access. After that, we don’t need to stay connected."
Alistair furrowed his brows, releasing her hand and pulling his own back. Meera smiled at him playfully.
"How exactly did you find out anything about me?" Alistair asked, attempting to change the subject.
"Conventional investigations," Meera replied. "Kotan isn’t the only admin of ours in this world right now. After I discovered your class, I asked a few of them—the ones I trust—to look into things."
"That’s... surprisingly normal. I thought you'd use some kind of divine technique."
"I told you, we’re not gods. Admins are just very strong individuals."
"I see. Do you know why my level shows up like that?" Alistair asked.
"I think I do. Did your level go from 99 to... that?" Meera replied.
"Yes."
"Then it’s simple. The system used in this world is pretty basic. I'd say it’s around lower-mid quality—the minimum required for a world of this size."
"System?"
"It’s a set of tools that admins use to manage their worlds. One part of it is the status window. Anyway, this particular system only allows for two digits in the level display, meaning it can only show up to 99. When you leveled up past that, the status window just couldn’t handle displaying the new number."
"Was that an oversight?"
"No, they simply didn’t expect anyone to reach that level.
"By the way, I love your real name. You don’t have a family name?"
"...No, I was born a commoner. I was given a family name after I awakened."
"I see. I bet you hear this a lot, but you're quite the handsome man," Meera said suddenly, winking.
Alistair blinked, startled by the compliment. Then he realized something and raised a hand to his face. It wasn’t wrinkled anymore. The face he touched now was that of a man in his prime, slightly younger than Albert. He even looked a lot like Albert. His hair, now all black, fell into place. He stared at Meera, confused.
"This isn’t your real body, remember? When you manifest your soul here, it takes the form of your last state. After some time, it will revert to your actual body—or at least what your soul considers your true form. That’s one of the reasons I sent Kotan away. I didn’t want him to realize who you are."
Meera smiled. "I see you dyed your hair white. What about the wrinkles? Some kind of magic?"
"No, it’s a concoction one of my men came up with. It dries the skin and ages it significantly."
"That sounds permanent. How do you remove it or reverse it?"
"A mid-level healing spell is enough to undo it."
"I see," Meera said, leaning slightly toward him. "I think it’s a crime to hide that handsome face."
"Why don’t you want Kotan to know?" Alistair asked, determined to change the subject.
"Because he has his own champion. Naturally, he wants his champion to become the next admin of this world."
Hearing this, Alistair fell into deep thought again. Suddenly, his eyes widened, and he stood abruptly from his chair, staring at Meera.
"How did I die? I mean, the circumstances that led to my death. Do you know anything about it?" Alistair's voice turned cold.
For the first time, Meera’s face lost its brightness. She slowly looked away, sheepish.
"We’ve come to this, finally. It was Kotan... he was the one who orchestrated your demise."
____________________________________
Alistair could feel his rage bubbling up. He tried his best to control it, but it still seeped into his voice. "Did you... order it?"
"Absolutely not," Meera answered immediately, her voice firm. "Let me explain, but please calm down." She pleaded gently. After a moment, Alistair sat down again, and Meera exhaled in relief.
"I told you before that Kotan would want his own champion to become the next admin of this world. Now, let me explain why that matters.
"A group of admins, or gods, is called a pantheon. A pantheon’s strength is usually determined by the number of worlds under its control. When someone first becomes an admin and joins a pantheon, they start as a level 1 admin. At that level, they’re barely any stronger than an independent admin—perhaps even weaker.
"But if an admin can bring another world into the pantheon through a representative or champion, they earn points. The points depend on the size of the world. Gather enough points, and they level up—similar to your leveling system. And just like your system, a higher level means more strength. In this case, though, a higher level grants access to more mana, which makes it easier to grow stronger."
"Mana? So everything is about mana? Are you talking about the mana of this world?" Alistair asked.
"Yes, everything revolves around mana. And yes, we're talking about the mana of a world," Meera responded. "Even in your system, when you level up, the system is essentially pumping mana into your mana heart to make you stronger.
"The mana comes from the world itself. That’s the role of admins. An admin is an entity that the world has acknowledged. They have limited control over the world’s mana—how much is released, how much you gain from killing beasts, how much from killing other mana users, or whether you get mana from killing other mana users at all."
"Mana users?" Alistair asked.
"I believe you call them 'awakened' here."
Alistair thought for a moment. "You said admins control the world’s mana distribution. Is that why a level 1 admin is weaker than an independent admin?"
"Precisely. Have I told you how much I love smart men?" Meera winked at Alistair before continuing. "When an admin joins a pantheon, they give the pantheon access to their world’s mana distribution. The pantheon then redirects some of the mana produced—like a tax—into its mana reserve. The pantheon also typically redistributes the world’s mana to nurture and strengthen the world, helping to increase its mana production over time.
"The original admin still receives some of their world’s mana, though usually in smaller amounts. But in return, they have the chance to grow even stronger by leveling up their admin rank. Starting at level 2, they also gain access to the pantheon’s mana reserves. The higher the level, the more mana they can draw from.
"Not only that, but by joining a pantheon, they gain protection. Replacing an admin from another pantheon is nearly impossible."
"I see. I think I have a rough understanding of how it works. Now, tell me about Kotan. How did he orchestrate my demise? If I’m supposed to be your champion, wasn’t he afraid of the consequences of going against you, presumably his superior?"
Heaving a sigh, Meera began speaking again. "We don’t have a rule that allows an admin to claim a world by sending their champion uncontested. Most pantheons let their admins compete against each other for a world, as this increases the chances that the pantheon will ultimately claim it.
"Until I arrived, Kotan was the highest-level admin in this world. That meant his champion had the best chance of claiming it. From what I’ve gathered, he had invested a lot of effort into his champion this time. So, my arrival was a major setback for him.
"Our pantheon allows competition, but not blatant sabotage. He couldn’t kill you outright, even if he wanted to. So, he did the next best thing—he killed your body but saved your soul.
"If he had killed you completely, I would’ve had grounds to investigate the death of my champion. 'Investigation' would’ve only been in name—I would have likely just snatched his soul and read his memories."
"I think I get it now. I understand that by saving my soul, it looks like he did you a favor. But why would killing my body hamper you in any—wait." Alistair suddenly realized something. "Do you not have a way to bring me back to life? My soul is still intact, right?"
"You noticed that. Unfortunately, there is no way to bring you back to life as you were. The moment your body dies, your soul will be preserved in this pocket dimension. However, your connection to the system would be severed, and you'd be considered dead by the system.
"If we were to remake your body and put your soul back in, you’d still be disconnected from the system. And only those who are connected to the system are allowed to challenge the ruling admin."
"Fuck. Why didn’t you stop him?"
"Because I wasn’t here. The moment you saw me in the cave was the moment I arrived in this world. I’m sorry. Even though he avoided killing you outright, if I can prove he directly intervened in trying to kill your body, I can still punish him. But he planned it meticulously.
"I claimed you as my champion about a year ago. I believe that’s when he began his plan. He likely took advantage of the five kingdoms’ invasion to create an opportunity to target you. I assume he started placing his men in strategic positions, ensuring they’d have access to you when it mattered."
"The Master Mage, the one who was with Olli. That was him?" Alistair asked.
"Probably one of the awakened under his command. But yes, when the mage stopped you in your tracks, it was likely him, possessing the mage."
"How did he stop me like that? What kind of skill was that? I didn’t sense any mana."
"It wasn’t a skill that used mana. It was a powerful soul magic. And, as the name suggests, it costs the soul of the caster—in this case, that mage."
"He can use other people’s souls as fuel for magic?"
"If they’ve made a contract, yes. He probably promised that mage the world to get him to sign a contract."
Alistair leaned back in his chair, staring up at the blue sky. Without moving his gaze, he asked, "Can I kill him?"
"Absolutely, yes." The straight answer startled Alistair. He looked back at Meera, not expecting such a response.
"Why not? You think I wouldn’t be upset? I’m VERY upset. He dared to touch my champion?!" For an instant, the warmth and brightness in Meera’s demeanor vanished. She cleared her throat and continued.
"Do you know how long it would take me to claim this world with your help? No time at all. You’re already strong enough to fight for control of this world—no preparation needed. And that little prick thinks he can just get away with this? Oh yes, please, kill him." She pouted at the end of her sentence.
Alistair stared at the woman for a while. "So, because of the rules, you can’t touch him?"
"Yes. Unless I know for sure, I can’t just kill him like that."
"But he seemed scared of you back then."
"Because he’s a coward, and because he didn’t know that I can’t actually do anything to him."
"He didn’t know you can’t hurt him?"
"It’s a long story. I’ll tell you another time."
"Does it have to do with how you can’t lie?"
"Yes, and stop asking about it."
"Okay. So you’re saying it’s fine for me to kill him?"
"Yes, as long as you kill him before you join my pantheon, it should be fine."
"Am I strong enough to kill him?"
"Absolutely. You don’t know this, but you’re a freak—in a good way. It shouldn’t normally be possible for someone to become as strong as you without actually becoming an admin. You were already strong enough to kill Kotan."
"I understand." Alistair smiled, satisfied by the confirmation that he could exact revenge. "Now what?"
Meera smiled at his response, then slowly rose from her chair. She locked eyes with Alistair and asked him, her voice soft but firm.
"Bernard, will you be my sword, cutting down all who stand against me?
“Will you be my voice, conveying my will to the world?
"And will you be my champion, conquering this world in my name?"
She extended her hand toward Alistair once more.
Alistair stood and clasped her hand in a firm handshake. "I’m willing."
Meera’s face lit up, her smile wide and full of excitement. "Great! Now, let’s rebirth you into the world."
"Wait, what?"