"This is absurd! Absolutely ridiculous! Has the whole world gone mad? A simple, ordinary game has completely bewitched them."
"And what is this God of Fiction? I've never even heard of such nonsense."
"You say the bishop already went to investigate? Good. If those people have been fooled by this so-called God of Fiction, then let our lecture bring them back to their senses."
"I'll wait here until he brings them back. Revah, he's your bishop, and he's been trying to make something of himself. He wants to win my favor, and I'm sure he won't disappoint. But if he does… well, you know what will happen to him, and to all of you."
The Sacrifice God glared at the gathered believers, his anger flaring as he reprimanded them harshly. At the same time, he unleashed a tirade against the God of Fiction.
"You mortals are fickle, worthless, always chasing after the next shiny thing like foolish monkeys."
'When I've gathered enough sacrificial value, I'll offer you all up and summon a ten-star beast.'
But after calming down a bit, the God of Sacrifice convinced himself that they would eventually return to the righteous path. They'd listen to his lecture, and the words of the gods would remain eternal.
"Such wickedness must be condemned."
———
Meanwhile, at the entrance of a certain tavern, the bishop who had come to denounce the evils of arcade games was now fully absorbed in playing one.
When people lined up behind him, asking him to get off the machine because his demo time was up, the bishop pulled out a handful of gold coins and tossed them over his shoulder to those waiting in line. "Consider this a favor. Now shoo!"
On the screen, the little pixelated plane weaved left and right, firing beams of light at enemy aircraft. As soon as the level-clear music played, the bishop's face lit up with joy.
He had come here to criticize the games. Words were meaningless; only firsthand experience could uncover why these things were so wicked. So, naturally, he had to try it out himself.
And once he started, he couldn't stop.
For someone who had never touched a game before, it only took a moment for him to be hooked, just like anyone else. Even though the bishop was devoted to the God of Sacrifice, he was still human, and the arcade machine was no ordinary contraption—it was infused with the power of a god. Once someone started playing, they would easily lose themselves in the game, fully immersing themselves in the role of the in-game character.
The bishop was in a domain, known as Domain of Confusion, now repurposed into a new skill. Since the Domain of Confusion had no heir after God of Confusion died, the domain reverted into a new ability under Ashur's control, once again proving its worth.
Confusion, after all, blurs the lines between reality and illusion, good and evil, truth and lies. Anything perceived in duality by mortals can fall into a state of confusion.
It's similar to how a skilled actor can draw an audience into the performance, making them forget the real world and immerse themselves in the play's fictional universe. The bishop was no different.
As he guided his pixelated plane through the enemy barrage, he felt as though he truly was the pilot. Even though he was staring at a screen full of pixelated aircraft, his mind began to create vivid hallucinations.
Every time he played, he couldn't help but make strange "biu biu biu" sounds as he fired his virtual weapons.
And every time he lost, he'd curse loudly, calling the enemies vile for destroying his sacred ship.
"I will make them pay with blood and death." he shouted—only to restart the level moments later with renewed vigor.
At this moment, the bishop had just defeated the boss of the tenth level. Gasps of astonishment erupted from the onlookers as they watched the massive, steel warship explode in a grand display of fireworks. The level-clear music blared triumphantly, and the bishop, fully immersed in his role as a gamer, basked in the admiring gazes of those around him.
"Onto the eleventh level, then?"
The bishop mused. The game wasn't as hard as it seemed, though he had lost numerous times. The important thing was that he had finally won. When he lost, he'd curse the game developers as the most despicable creatures to ever crawl from the depths of the earth. Each boss, in his mind, was the embodiment of filth and ugliness, unworthy of even the most vile words.
But now that he had won, the game was suddenly a masterpiece. The developers were gods.
"This is truly a masterpiece."
With astonishing speed, the bishop changed his tune, praising the game he had cursed just moments earlier.
It's truly a wonder, how quickly one's perspective could change.
"The eleventh level... I heard no one has ever reached it before."
"Most people stop at level ten and assume it's the final level. But there's more?"
"Wait, no. Look at the markings on the screen—it's a special level! No number. This must be an unlockable bonus stage."
"Guys, look there he's unlocked a hidden stage."
In every arcade, there were always spectators gathering around to watch. When they saw the bishop, after hours of playing and dying over and over, finally break through the tenth level and unlock a hidden stage, the crowd erupted in excitement.
The bishop, too, was dumbfounded as he stared at the unfamiliar stage.
A line of pixelated text suddenly appeared on the screen:
[Clearing the hidden stage will earn you a generous reward. This reward is real and can only be claimed once per person per game.]
[Note: The difficulty of the hidden stage will be significantly higher.]
[Your progress has been recorded. User information has been sent to the God of Fiction.]
In normal arcade games, saving progress wasn't a feature. But this was no ordinary arcade machine. Saving progress with personal data was no big deal. After all, the machine was created with the Enlightenment Rune and was far from any standard industrial product.
From now on, whenever the bishop played, no matter which machine he logged into, he could start from any level he had unlocked.
The mention of a real reward made the bishop's eyes narrow in focus.
"So, this is it... This is what's drawn so many people here," he thought. At first, he wanted to say this reward had bewitched the masses, but it was clear from the crowd's reactions that none of them had reached this hidden stage yet.
The bishop's expression grew increasingly peculiar.
"What could the reward be? As a devout follower of the God of Sacrifice, I shouldn't be so curious about another god's rewards, but..."
He couldn't help it. His curiosity gnawed at him like a monkey scratching at his soul.
This was a hidden reward in such a masterpiece of a game. And based on the description, the hidden stage was bound to be extremely difficult. 'Is it a operational thunderbolt?'
Once the thought took root, it was impossible to shake. The bishop took a deep breath and prepared to take on the challenge.
However, the difficulty of the hidden stage was truly off the charts.
The bishop could hardly believe his eyes. Right from the start, three enemy planes appeared, each firing full-screen beams like fans that covered nearly the entire screen. Their firing rate was absurdly fast, and under such a barrage, the hidden stage came to a quick and brutal end.
News of the hidden stage quickly spread, drawing even more spectators.
Just as the bishop was about to shake off his frustration and prepare for another attempt, a panicked shout echoed through the crowd. A messenger from the Church of Sacrifice ran down the street, yelling that the God of Sacrifice had descended, but the cathedral was empty.
The god was enraged, and when the Sacrifice Church priests finally found their bishop—who was supposed to be denouncing the arcade—they couldn't even squeeze through the crowd to reach him.
So, they called out loudly from the sidelines.
"Your Excellency! The god has descended. Please return at once."
But the bishop was now completely absorbed in the game. In his mind, he was the pilot of that little plane. The priests' frantic calls fell on deaf ears.
"What god? Let me finish this level first."