The new game went live and it was incredibly popular, which should have been cause for celebration among gods and mortals alike. But now, as Miss Malt looked at the throngs of players gathered before her counter, she fell into deep contemplation.
A large group of players wore an identical mix of anger, pain, and joy on their faces, forming a veritable pie chart of emotions, perfectly illustrating the phrase "pain and pleasure are intertwined."
When passersby asked if the new game was fun, they would respond loudly and without hesitation, expressing how much they enjoyed it. But in the blink of an eye, their faces would be overtaken by anger as they loudly ranted about the "problems" in the new game!
A blond young man with graceful black attire stood at the front of the crowd, handing a large stack of letters to Miss Malt, behind whom were the players come to complain about issues with the game.
The God of Death's expression was very serious as he addressed Miss Malt with formality, "Respected Miss Malt, please ensure that this pile of complaint letters is passed on to the God of Fiction. We, your customers, unanimously believe the power level of the God of Suffering is excessively overpowered. We hope he is quickly 'banned' or 'nerfed'!"
This is unplayable if he's not nerfed!
The God of Death even thought that if the nerf didn't happen, he would just have to track down the God of Suffering for a real-life Mortal Kombat. If you can't beat him in the game, why not beat him in reality!
Players in the back echoed in agreement! They had opened many matches, but ever since the Dog-headed Person discovered that only the God of Suffering could activate invincibility frames, the newly rising competitive scene was immediately overrun with Dominant Dog players.
Strong? Definitely strong. Two seconds of invincibility, immune to all control skills, if he catches an opponent, he'd kick them into a corner, followed by a frenzied barrage of corner kicks, leaving absolutely no room for a gaming experience!
It was so painful to play that many players had already established an unwritten rule that one must "declare" before choosing the God of Suffering, or they would be verbally slammed as a Dominant Dog.
So, apart from the Dog-headed Person players, everyone else was deeply concerned about this issue...
"Do you know why they're called Dog-headed People?" someone spoke up, denouncing the repugnant behavior of that Dog-headed Person player who had brought endless pain, carrying a sack of rice up ten floors in one go.
Dog-headed People aren't afraid of insults because they really are dogs. To them, being called Dominant Dog sounds not the least bit insulting but instead distinctly mighty.
The Dog-headed People's devotion to the God of Suffering increased.
All Miss Malt could do was accept these complaint letters, but just as there were those hoping for the overpowering character to be nerfed, there were also those who enjoyed and even defended the overpowered ones.
Aside from that Dog-headed Person who was still passionately participating in PVP, convinced that enjoying the overpowered character while it lasted was the way to go, a group of oddly dressed figures in linen clothes, adorned with an assortment of nails, bandages, and hammers, had already burst into the tavern.
"We oppose the nerf!"
The person leading the group raised his arm, revealing his identification card, which bore the exclusive insignia of the Church of Suffering.
When the other patrons noticed the appearance of members from the Church of Suffering, they were stunned. Many had not expected the staff from the church to abandon their duties there and come to play the game instead.
"What's wrong with the God of Suffering being powerful? You fair-weather believers are just too cruel. The God of Suffering was once our only beacon of light; without him, the world I see becomes a pitch-black hell!"
"If the God of Suffering is nerfed, then this world will be nothing but ashes without hope. Even if I wander the world under the name of a god, all I see further convinces me of this. Even with the power to eliminate suffering, I see nothing, I have nothing—this is hell!"
"We can't weaken him!"
The members of the Church of Suffering made a ruckus, believing that such an unreasonable player petition should be stopped immediately! Why shouldn't our god be powerful—are you unable to stand the sight of our powerful god?
If you're bad, just practice more; if you can't handle losing, then don't play!
The player group advocating for nerfing, the group opposing it, and the group that thought they should enjoy a game while they could, formed three distinct factions. However, they were so noisy that they disrupted Miss Malt's business, so she kicked everyone out!
But she did offer a solution:
"This Saturday night, we have an online promotional event, and on Sunday, we'll release a bunch of new arcade machines... since all arcade games will be free to play during the event, why don't you challenge each other? Have a competition that day."
Miss Malt offered her solution: "I'll put together a sign-up sheet later. Anyone who wants to participate should come to me by midnight tonight to sign up. I will communicate with the God of Fiction, asking him to watch over the match to ensure fairness. The winning side can set terms, like nerfing an existing character, or adding new ones... The specifics will be announced at Saturday's promotional event. What do you think?"
After a moment of consideration, agreement and nods of approval came from both sides, with many players immediately eager to sign up. Miss Malt had the tavern staff bring paper and pens to take down their names.
She also discussed "training time" with them. Naturally, the arcade machines at the door couldn't be moved, but if they paid enough money, they could "rent" them for a while.
The God of Death, who naturally wasn't short on cash, generously rented five arcade machines, and the Church of Suffering, not to be outdone, rented five as well.
"You're going to lose!" The divine officials of the Church of Suffering, after coughing up the money, began to talk tough with indignation:
"No one knows the God of Suffering better than we do. You fair-weather believers, no matter how much you practice, you'll still end up crying and running home to your mothers!"
"Feel the pain!"
The God of Death laughed dismissively and then said, "We will win, you are just pick..." His words were cut short as he was immediately grabbed by a few players nearby and silenced.
After a few days of play, everyone had realized that this seemingly rich and graceful young man was actually a curse-bringer. If he said they would win, it meant certain defeat. They couldn't let him finish his sentence; otherwise, their loss would be guaranteed.
The players from both sides dispersed to discuss their strategies and plans. This event also greatly piqued the interest of bystander players. Along with their lively discussions, the upcoming event at the Sunday Fiction Church gradually spread to other regions.
————
The Kingdom of Pain.
As usual, the God of Suffering lay idly on the floor of the Divine Nation, babbling nonsense about pain and agony, but today was different from the routine. Suddenly, he convulsed and sat up rigidly.
A massive wave of faith in suffering, coming from an unknown source, converged upon him, marking the second time he had received faith from an unidentified origin.
"What's going on—who is making me feel this pain?"