In the tavern, Maya was busy adjusting a large satellite dish-like machine. With Saturday fast approaching, the online promotional event was just around the corner.
"Excuse me, is it still possible to sign up for the tournament?" The God of Pain, dressed in his ridiculous king mascot costume, pushed open the tavern doors. The dim light from behind him cast a hazy, dreamlike aura around his figure, making him look almost mystical.
"I want to enter the tournament on Sunday."
Having made up his mind, the God of Pain had already formed a partnership with the kobold, asking him to coach the Church Of Pain team, determined to clinch the championship.
Victory was already in their hands.
Maya nearly jumped out of her skin at the sight of the God of Pain.
'Who's this creepy now?'
"May I ask for your identity? Sorry, but we are a legitimate church, and even if we lack fancy decorations, we follow formal procedures when organizing tournaments. You'll need valid identification to register."
Maya eyed the king mascot skeptically. Sure, if you want to compete while hiding your face, that's fine, but real names are required for entry.
"My name?" The God of Pain paused for a moment.
The origin of gods varies greatly across worlds.
Most of the known gods are natural gods, born from the collective desires of mortals for certain abstract values. They come into existence naturally, as the embodiment of these desires.
Some gods become deities through "Divine Ordainment," chosen by a higher god and granted power through special means. These gods serve as the attendants or servants of their creators and are referred to as "envoys," a type of "god-made god."
There are also "phenomenon gods," born from the collective will of a civilization, such as when a culture faces extinction, and a god-like entity is created from the remnants of its people's consciousness.
Lastly, there are "armored gods," gods who ascend through the act of imitation, a process known as "armoring."
"Armoring" is the practice of mimicking a god's key characteristics and behaviors so perfectly that others can't distinguish between the two.
However, an armored god ultimately derives its power through imitation and, over time, loses its individuality, becoming one with the god it mimicked—even if that god has long since perished.
The God of Pain was an armored god.
As he stood there, he recalled a distant time, when he had been a king.
"I was once the king of the world of Doran. My name was Fran. Yes, you can find my name in the records of the Church of Pain, near the top of the faith ledger. My world is far from the Gray World. I was a king once, but now I've abdicated and live as a mere traveler in the Allworlds. My kingdom, too, devoted itself to the God of Pain."
As the God of Pain spoke, a wave of nostalgia washed over him. He reminisced about how his nation had never been prosperous or powerful, always the target of exploitation by larger countries. Each year, they had to pay enormous tributes, even sending their young men to labor in foreign lands. The larger nations forbade them from maintaining a sizable military force and even stationed troops to keep them in check.
"Because of this, from the king down to the peasants, no one had much money. Everyone was in constant pain, trapped in hunger and poverty. That immense suffering is what drew the attention of the God of Pain to us."
He bought a round of drinks from Maya, sharing tales of his past while marveling at the wonders of other worlds.
"The Allworlds are vast. Every world has its own way of life. Travel a bit, and you'll see gods of all shapes and sizes, along with entirely different ways of living."
"I must thank the God of Fiction. He created the arcade machine, and through it, I found joy even amidst the pain. Although joy doesn't bring value to a god, it's different when pain is mixed in with that joy."
Maya thought for a moment and then offered a fitting metaphor:
"Like beer with a shot of coffee?"
———
After bidding farewell to the people at the Fictional Church, the God of Pain dragged the kobold away from the tavern, hurrying back to the Pain Church. The once solemn and austere church had now transformed into something akin to an arcade.
"Kick him! Use low kicks! Come on, use your skills already!"
"You've got three full energy bars and can't even land your finisher? You're dead meat."
The Pain Church was as noisy as a marketplace. When the God of Pain returned, he gathered his followers and announced his perfectly crafted training plan.
"We've only got one day left. If we lose this time, I—" The God of Pain glanced at the kobold, who was looking around distractedly, and quickly corrected himself. "If we lose, our god's reputation will take a serious hit in the eyes of the world. That's just how it works. If you don't play as the invincibility dog, someone else will. The only reason they don't use invincibility characters against you is because they don't think you're worth it."
"So, we'll be the better invincibility dogs. Let a thousand people curse us; we'll never give up what's ours. This isn't just a game—it's a battle for faith."
The God of Pain's rousing speech fired up his followers, rallying them to action.
The game created by the God of Fiction had already seized a large portion of the market. In just two days, the God of Pain had gained an immense amount of faith and pain-based value. It was practically a faith and value harvesting machine.
If he got nerfed now, no one would ever pick his character again, which would be disastrous. He had the chance to gain so much more, but if he didn't fight for it, all that value would slip through his fingers.
"Our goal is the championship! Even if we end up nerfed, we have to keep the invincibility mechanic. We need our own defining trait. We can't just let them dictate everything."
"We'll train all night. The more pain, the stronger we'll become. The stronger we get, the better we'll play. That's the power of the Church of Pain If you want to master the God of Pain, you've got to experience pain yourself. Only in that state can you bring out the full potential of this character."
———
In the first district of Morning Wind Metropolis, on Fifth Avenue in the second sector, sat the Church of Steel.
The God of Death and his crew had been training there for hours.
As the most important church in the steam-powered kingdom, the Church of Steel had at least one to three branches in every district. These churches often rented out their facilities for various purposes.
Some acted as temporary factories, others as venues for business meetings, and some even served as security outposts or notarization offices.
The God of Death had rented a room in one of these churches, turning it into a training ground for his players. They were all preparing to win Sunday's first arcade tournament.
Meanwhile, the God of Death was busy setting up a machine in front of the statue of the Iron God.