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Temple of Many Gods.

After countless civilizations fell to the Demon Lord’s forces, the gods they worshipped also crumbled alongside them. The surviving gods gathered as one for survival, faith, and their followers.

That said, it wasn’t an absolute constraint. It resembled a UN with real power.

After moving to the Temple of Many Gods, altars and sanctuaries for other gods were established in each god’s shrine, although they tried their best to take into account the areas where each god’s influence was primarily felt.

Even that prioritized history and tradition. Like in Iceland, where the Triune God holds overwhelming power.

The other regions of the Kingdom of Seophone also built sanctuaries and grand sanctuaries of the Temple of Many Gods, but the main gods worshipped varied by region.

For instance, Ruinhenge was devoted to the god of adventurers, Jason.

Tofenhau revered Kruheri.

In the South Coast region, due to unavoidable circumstances from long ago, the object of worship completely switched from the Sea God to the God of the Underworld. For reference, both gods were worshipped in the Palatino Empire.

In Kingsland, Yustitia was primarily worshipped.

Yustitia sat languidly on the outskirts of her divine realm, swinging her legs in the air as she looked down on Bendleig.

The coronation festival that occurred every five or ten years was as grand as ever.

[Hmm. Though food is offered as a sacrifice, it truly is different when made by the one responsible.]

[I’m inclined to agree, but as your wife, I can’t help but feel a little flustered.]

…

Yustitia frowned and then relaxed her brow at the sound of intruders disturbing her festival enjoyment amidst the summer clouds.

Skadi, Tutatis, and an unnamed traveler were huddled together, eating something.

She had caught wind of it by the breeze. Dishes spreading from Iceland, initiated by a favored reincarnate of the three gods, reaching as far as Europa.

[…What in the world is that?]

Then Yustitia’s eyes met Skadi’s.

[As I said last time, even if you look, I won’t be sharing.]

[Heir of Allfather! Who asked for you to share!? I have never said such a thing!]

Despite contemplating asking her out of curiosity, pride prevented her from doing so. How could one snatch away the offerings given to someone else?

Skadi could clearly see Yustitia’s inner conflict, being on the younger side according to the gods.

[You mean to say you’d snatch the offerings I received, despite clearly having far fewer worshippers? How petty.]

[I would never do such a thing!?]

[Then are you suggesting you’re hoping for an offering from Karem?]

[Who would!]

Such pathetic incidents were historically common among notoriously brazen relatives, like the Goddess of Wisdom, the Sea God, the God of Arts, or even her father, the Great God—all of whom were now dead.

She, who presided over justice and judgment, would never commit such an act.

However, wasn’t she feeling a bit uneasy?

That wasn’t exactly the case either.

The curiosity sparked about the dishes that had begun spreading in the summer months had not faded.

Of course, as mentioned earlier, the likelihood of those dishes being offered to her was distant at best.

The reason being her beloved worshippers. A long history that had never been severed even by the fall of the Palatino Empire.

In other words, it was simply boring.

Skadi was the goddess of winter.

Her worshippers were clustered in the cold regions of Europa’s north, including Iceland.

Certainly, even as the winter goddess, it was not that she wasn’t worshipped in warmer areas; however, the significance drastically diminished the warmer it got.

In stark contrast, Yustitia presided over justice and judgment, with worshippers scattered across Europa and even beyond the sea to the Kingdom of Adobice.

As the sect had a long-standing history, the sacrifices offered by worshippers through priests were also plentiful.

Naturally, that included food items.

Though in their raw state, of course.

At times, they hadn’t even been processed.

And if anything, the lower gods who survived alongside her to this day, worshipped more than the worshippers themselves, were just as stale as her offerings.

The dishes and drinks served at her table still lingered in the traditions of the Palatino Empire.

Though new crops sometimes rose as offerings, the numbers were so scarce that they were often left to rot in a corner of her divine realm by the lower gods.

The dishes being served weren’t tasteless. It’s just that no matter how delicious they might be, eating the same thing for not just decades but thousands of years can get old.

Honestly, it was exhausting.

[How noisy, like a little brat. There is a simple way to remedy this.]

[Who are you calling a brat, you mortal?]

[You’re still acting like a child, so that’s why I’m saying it.]

Tutatis waved his hand dismissively at the old young god who was getting riled up.

[If that guy were to voluntarily offer something to you, who would stop him? Quit making a fuss and go away already.]

The uninvited guests visible from the divine realm and the sight of Bendleig had vanished. It was as if someone had been kicked out of their own territory before they could say anything.

Normally, a mortal hearing the term “little brat” would have Yustitia storming out of the divine realm in anger.

[…Did you say to make them offer voluntarily?]

She was distracted by what the culprit had said.

If she took Tutatis’s words literally, then it meant that Karem could freely offer dishes to her, right?

But there was one problem.

[…But how do I do that?]

Yustitia scratched her head absentmindedly while pondering when suddenly, among the restored gap between the divine realm and the mortal realm, she spotted Michael leading troops along the banks of the river in Bendleig.

[Ah, that audacious, impertinent guy.]

Yustitia’s gaze held an ocean of salt.

With the Grand Sanctuary nearby and more than 70% of those who primarily believed in her surrounding it, there he was, a blatant heretic adoring the reincarnated one as if he were a god.

To make matters worse, arrogantly advertising it in front of other worshippers—

[Wait a moment, audacious?]

Yustitia cupped her hands to her mouth, contemplating.

Let’s think objectively.

The chances of a reincarnate like Karem effortlessly offering dishes to her, as he did with the Triune God, seemed far too low.

And ordering the priests like Keben or other priestesses to relay a message would be an affront to her pride.

Would she dare ask the other gods of the Temple for a favor regarding those offerings?

That was something Yustitia could absolutely not permit.

So, if she temporarily set aside her pride and approached him secretly, no one else would have to know about it besides the concerned party.

Ultimately, her dignity wouldn’t be at stake.

She would just be alone, embarrassed enough to fidget.

Having reached that conclusion, Yustitia resolved to temporarily lower her pride.

For the sake of dessert!

*

*

*

Unknowingly solving the worries of a god in a peculiar manner, Michael returned and promptly disbanded the pursuit team, finished his report, changed clothes, and felt uneasy all the way out of the royal castle.

In the end, he had no choice but to let go of the monster factions that had been colluding with the demon tribe in the city.

No, there was an opportunity.

Upon receiving information from the whistleblower, Marta, Michael led the pursuit team in accordance with the king’s orders, tirelessly changing horses day and night, and finally arrived at the mouth of the river in Bendleig.

There, he discovered a mass of charred remains of monsters littered along the river mouth.

At first, he thought there had been a large-scale extermination request from the Guild, but given that all the remains were of lizardmen and orcs, it was clear they were the collaborators Marta had exposed.

Just when he suspected the influence of a dragon’s scroll reached even here, an immense wave suddenly came crashing up the river. They had to retreat with no time for thorough investigation.

What stirred the magic wasn’t anything like the magic itself.

It was the presence of divine art performed by priests, no—divinity itself, incomparable to anything else.

“I should have at least snagged the corpse of the biggest one.”

But the opportunity had already flown away.

So pondering was pointless.

Michael buried it deep in his mind and stepped into the tavern known for its burnt meat and fish.

Burnt Meat and Fish was renowned for using new ingredients around the area, creating delicious dishes that weren’t merely meat.

Moreover, as the largest tavern in the outer castle, it was the most bustling, allowing people to overlook the oddities of the usual day.

There would be no one recognizing him.

He wore his hood deep and even used a magic tool for disguise.

“Oh, look who’s arrived—our charlatan!”

“What funny nonsense are you planning to preach today?”

“I’ve been waiting for you!”

Fools!

Michael wanted to shout that out loud.

But he decided against it.

Michael recognized the situation objectively.

In front of him stood those struggling to make ends meet, for whom faith often swung like a pendulum according to the free bread and soup brought by priests.

It wasn’t that they didn’t believe in gods. It’s just that they believed in all the gods served by the priests of the Temple.

Some might call them bats, but Michael understood their sentiments. He had been one of them.

In his past life as Kim Jeong-hoon, Michael’s faith swayed to the religion offering him burgers during his two years rolling about as a soldier in Manchuria—a rotation between Catholicism, Orthodoxy, Buddhism, and Cheondoism.

Though he wasn’t overflowing with cash, Michael was rich enough to use food as bait to lure in prospective believers based on his experiences.

“Preaching is fine, but let’s fill our bellies first.”

“Of course! Can we freely order as always?”

“Indeed. Freely. But the beer—”

“Just one glass, right? You certainly don’t lack in that department for once, do you?”

The sight of servitors racing to order food and drink reminded Michael of himself and his comrades back in his military days.

He never thought anyone among them would take his words seriously.

Probably, neither did the priest, pastor, or monk from his past life.

‘These poor youth, dragged here due to China and Russia during such a bright age. They deserve to relax today.’

‘A small yet delicious meal is the priority. After all, military rations and the canteen fare are all similar, aren’t they?’

‘If even one person believes, that’s enough. So let’s eat and have some fun first.’

Thus, it was an investment on Michael’s part for that one potential believer among the crowd.

He wasn’t using it carelessly. Michael’s senses were sharp enough to differentiate between those wanting to hear his preaching and those who weren’t.

‘By the way…’

Michael pulled a bottle from his robe. He popped the cork, and with a fizz, an exquisite sweet aroma wafted up.

Glug—glug—

The sensation of bursting bubbles striking his mouth, tongue, and throat, the sweet and refreshing taste of a cool black liquid.

Awash with an overwhelming capitalist flavor he hadn’t tasted in decades, his faith surged anew.

Even more, these colas were enchanted with preservation magic and stored in dozens of wooden barrels. It was said that if you delivered an empty barrel to Winterhome, they would refill it for you.

With all this, how could he deny what he believed in?

“Huh? Charlatan priest! What are you drinking?”

“A potion to unwind.”

Glug—another sip.

The bubbly burst provided a refreshing sensation.

The divine beverage, overflowing with divine power, was an impossibly sweet flavor that could not exist in Europa, further boosting Michael’s spirits as he secured the bottle tightly to his chest and stood up on the table.

“Today, I will tell you how your dishes have changed through His influence.”

The audience, merely seeing him as a charlatan, filled their mouths with drink and snacks, listening out of mere courtesy.

No one had the faintest idea of his true identity.

 

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