Maya chased out all the Sacrifice cultists from her tavern. After all, in this world, the Church of Sacrifice was a secondary church, not a mainstream one, so Maya wasn't afraid of offending them.
"Shoo... shoo... find some other place. This is a church now."
The dominant church in this world was the Church of Steel.
In certain worlds, Sacrifice cultists were extremely radical, persecuting other churches with their power. This often led to what was known as heretic purges, a common practice for many churches during their missionary work.
However, in worlds where their church held a secondary status, such aggressive methods didn't work, so they had to adopt a more moderate approach.
Although the Sacrifice cultists couldn't understand why Maya kept referring to her tavern as the church, they still laughed out loud as they left.
"Your tavern is a church? Well, in that case, our church must be the divine kingdom."
The Sacrifice cultists thought the vampire girl was simply going mad. Even though they were kicked out, they didn't take it personally. As they walked away, they continued promoting their upcoming event:
"This coming Sunday, the Sacrificer will descend upon the Gray Lands in a grand procession."
"This is a precious opportunity to hear the divine teachings up close—a rare chance to learn."
"If you don't buy your sermon tickets now, by the time Sunday arrives, you'll have to scramble to buy from scalpers at inflated prices—losing far more than you will gain."
"The Sacrificer has been paying close attention to this land. He sees the decay, the oppression, the pollution, the disease—things that are severely damaging both your bodies and souls. His lecture will address these very problems, and listening to it will undoubtedly bring you great benefits."
They plastered posters across the streets, with exaggerated illustrations of their god drawing attention like a self-help guru. The posters boasted: "Three words to unlock human nature— Master the art of reading people, follow my lectures and become a true believer."
The Sacrifice cultists even visited the printing press factory, spending a large sum of money to purchase an "exclusive one-day promotion package."
For the entirety of Sunday, all promotion would be dedicated to the Church of Sacrifice. Other churches also bought similar packages, but the Sacrifice cult had shelled out for a custom premium version.
Apparently, part of their plan involved the arrival of high-level wizards from other worlds, who would use special spells to enhance their promotions.
"Maya, as you can see, your advertising can't compete with theirs."
Some of the tavern patrons watched the Sacrifice cultists spread their promotions across town, while in the tavern, Maya, the new head of a lesser-known church, couldn't afford to spend that kind of money.
To be honest, in other worlds, vampires were typically rich, but Maya was an exception. She often lamented that if it weren't for her dreams, she wouldn't have left her home to work as a laborer in another world.
"Does having money make you better?"
"Actually, yes. With money, you really can do whatever you want. It is only poor who say money can't buy everything."
The patrons burst out laughing. Even so, they assured Maya that they wouldn't waste their time and money attending some sermon by the Sacrificer. His faith wasn't mainstream in this world, but the way they framed their advertising was impressive—promising solutions to local issues like pollution, stress, and disease. This would obviously attract a lot of middle and lower-class people.
While some might attend with the mindset of "there's no harm in listening," the target audience wouldn't be the poorest of the poor. Those at the very bottom couldn't even afford the sermon tickets. These people weren't the target demographic for the Church of Sacrifice this time.
Maya fiercely mocked these promotional tactics, imitating the cultists she said: "I can promise you anything—as long as I don't actually have it. If I do have it, well... just pretend I never said anything."
The tavern erupted in laughter again. The main reason most people didn't attend was that they didn't want to waste their precious time and money listening to someone bragging.
Moreover, while the tavern, now tavern-church, didn't have much money, the upcoming event was quite appealing. The bait of winning one of the hundred premium gaming passes meant that all expenses for Sunday would be covered by Maya.
Why pay to listen to empty talk when you could come here and enjoy games for free?
"I think I can help you, Miss High Priestess."
A voice came from the tavern entrance. The man in the trench coat, who had been planning to commit suicide the previous day, had returned.
The patrons were shocked. Didn't he say he was going to kill himself?
How was he still alive?
Did he lie to everyone?
Seeing the crowd grow agitated, some even preparing to throw punches, the trench coat man hurriedly explained that he wasn't avoiding death—it was the god who had pardoned him.
As for why? He didn't know.
In any case, his previous life had come to end the day before. Today, he found himself a job and resolved to turn over a new leaf.
"What did you do before?" Maya asked.
"I worked in advertising," the trench coat man answered honestly.
He explained that he still had some old contacts. Although his current situation was dire, there was a chance he could still reach out to them. Plus, his silver tongue can help him secure some sponsorships.
Maya inquired, "Oh? And what do you want in return if you succeed?"
The trench coat man replied, "I'd like to join your church and hear the god's revelations."
He had already learned that the arcade machine was connected to a new god. Now, as someone starting his life anew, he knew that the arrival of a new god in any world represented an opportunity.
Even though this god, like all others, would eventually reap his harvest of believers, each god treated their crops(followers/believers) differently. From what he had observed over the past few days, this new god appeared to be a Neutral-aligned deity.
Not Lawful Evil, nor Chaotic Evil. Neutral gods were rare and highly valued by the people of any world, as they tend to treat mortals more fairly, or say leniently.
The trench coat man decided to bet his second chance at life on this new god. He quickly struck a deal with Maya and left the tavern, exclaiming that time was money, and finding clients required taking the initiative. Every minute was valuable.
The tavern patrons murmured amongst themselves, bamboozled by how the trench coat man had survived. Some guessed he had struck some shady deal with the God of Death.
"Can he be trusted?"
"I've never heard of anyone surviving after taking out a Death Loan."
"Maybe he's been chosen by the god... He might even become an apostle."
Maya didn't place all her hopes on the trench coat man. After thinking for a moment, she left the main hall and returned to her room to write a letter.
The purpose of the letter? To borrow money, of course.
Her incredibly wealthy but notoriously stingy cousin had always brushed her off with promises of next time for sure, but Maya believed that achieving one's goals required a persistent spirit.
However, the Church of Sacrifice's activities hadn't gone unnoticed by just Maya, the tavern patrons, or the trench coat man.
Ashur, as the arch-nemesis of the Sacrificer, was also fully aware of their flyer distribution.
'Offline sermons?'
There were countless ways gods could recruit followers. Relying solely on out-of-touch bishops wasn't going to win any followers. In fact, those same bishops might end up embezzling funds and abandoning the church altogether.
That's why regularly scheduled sermons where gods themselves appeared were favored by believers. One speech could win over a huge number of followers.
Times had changed. The days of forcing people to worship gods at axe-point were long gone, although this still happened in more primitive worlds. But in a place like the Gray Lands, the people wouldn't tolerate such methods.
Now, once again, it was Ashur's time to face Sacrificer. Clearly, Maya and the trench coat man weren't strong enough to take on an entire church. As their god, Ashur couldn't just sit back while his followers fought for him.
Ashur quickly typed out a program, his fingers flying across the keyboard.
"This is a Fictional Dream Generator. Aaaa... nd here's the user manual."
Ashur busied himself for a while, and before long, a device resembling a giant satellite dish appeared in his divine realm.