Rapid Advance
A fierce, howling gale whipped across the frozen earth, where an enormous blizzard raged. The farther north they advanced, the colder the temperature dropped, and the soldiers huddled into their collars.
In the distance loomed a massive figure—a Phoenix with an enormous build. The soldiers within its range charged forward without even wearing their coats. Marquis Reshid watched them with envious eyes.
"Cough! What the hell is that guy?"
"...What do you mean, sir?"
"Swordsmanship, fist arts, and body techniques are basic, and now he's using spirit arts and magic too?"
"It's hard to admit, but isn't it because the gods favor him?"
"That's exactly what I'm questioning."
"I'm puzzled too."
Throughout the march, Viscount Aron had been training in magic. His progress was so obvious even at a glance that the nobles under Marquis Reshid felt a profound sense of deprivation each time.
Magic swordsmen were rare in this world, and those who also wielded spirit arts were countable on one hand throughout history. Yet that bastard seemed poised to master all three. His spirit arts were already at the pinnacle—reaching the limit of what a human could summon. It made them wonder why the world was so damn unfair.
"Ugh, and he's only preserving his troops."
"No choice, is there? By his logic, we're the rebels."
"It's absurd logic."
"But he has the justification on his side."
"His justification."
During the advance, the bastard climbed onto the roof of Aron's carriage. Dressed only in thin sleepwear and yawning—it was a sight to behold. As Viscount Aron stretched and twisted his body, white light gathered in both hands.
The accompanying priests stared in shock.
"D-Divine power?!"
"What?! Divine power?!"
"Yes! And it's extremely dense! That level of purity is only for high priests and above..."
"High priest...?"
"What in the world is going on?"
The priests clicked their tongues in amazement. At some point, Aron scattered divine power in all directions.
In the spare time over the past few days, alongside magic training, he'd researched karma. He'd pondered whether karma could be used like divine power and ended up learning holy magic from Cecilia.
Holy magic was relatively simple if you had divine power—no complex formulas like regular magic, no mental strain. It was a miracle borrowed from the gods' power itself, and with a bit of practice, it could be wielded freely.
Holy power's realm was said to be proportional to the depth of faith. But Cecilia insisted it wasn't strictly tied to faith—the gods' love for the priest mattered more.
After learning holy magic from her, he tested it out.
"Like this?"
He had quite a stockpile of karma. He needed to check how much it consumed for holy magic. Only then could he decide whether to use it regularly.
As he drew up divine power, his hands glowed white.
"Recovery!"
Whoosh!
"Hm?"
Shhh!
Vast, pure divine power spread in all directions. The range was wide—about 30 meters? Everyone within began healing.
A downside of area recovery magic was the inability to target specifics, but another flaw would block the Giant God Clan. In the gods' world, healing magic didn't work between hostile factions' followers. So his divine power wouldn't affect those Odin-worshipping Giant God bastards.
100 Karma consumed.
"Oh ho! Pretty cost-effective, huh?"
Just 100 karma to heal that many troops over such a range—it was incredible value. Especially since karma-fueled holy magic had high priest-level purity, maybe even surpassing the pope. Karma was the gods' divine power itself, after all.
With so many troops' stamina restored, morale soared.
"Waaah! The commander has the gods' blessing!"
"Ooooh!"
The pursuing nobles wouldn't understand, but who cared? Their deprivation had nothing to do with him.
Thud thud thud!
The scouting troops returned. The scout saluted crisply and reported.
"Reporting to the Commander! The enemy is encamped about a day's march away, recently reinforced by 50,000, totaling around 200,000!"
"Got it."
Swoosh!
As the scout withdrew, unrest stirred among the nobles. Their 150,000 versus the enemy's 200,000—and considering the Giant God Clan, they were short on numbers.
They whispered among themselves, then Count Raoul of the Northern Army approached cautiously.
"Commander, if I may— with the enemy reinforced, shouldn't we change strategy? The Giant God Clan are bigger, more aggressive than imperial troops."
"Why would we?"
"Well, as I said..."
"Just smash the bastards. You don't lack faith, do you?"
"...No. Understood."
Count Raoul slunk away with slumped shoulders, drawing laughter from the knights.
"Hahaha! My lord, those rebels must be scared."
"Tsk tsk, half-baked fools with heretics as right-hand men—what'd you expect?"
"Exactly!"
For some reason, Raoul looked like a patient racked by chills as he retreated.
Tomorrow, they'd clash with the enemy. Time to open that random box first.
The random box he'd delayed until now. This wasn't a game's gacha—it was a gift feather from the Fist God, so no blanks or junk.
"Kinda exciting."
Depending on what came out, his future path could shift. Tension was inevitable.
He closed his eyes and consciously opened the random box.
Shimmer!
Light briefly enveloped his body. But with holy power training, no one batted an eye.
In his mind, brilliant radiance burst forth, alarms blaring.
◈ Crafted from mythical orichalcum nonexistent in this world
◈ Amplifies mana several times over
◈ Infused with inherent mana—punch through most spells
"Ooh!"
He let out an involuntary exclamation. He'd wondered when another shop voucher would drop. Now he could finally access the God's Tower.
A Beginner Sword God's Swordsmanship Manual from a random box—not bad for melee chaos. And the Fist God's Knuckles? Jackpot.
Transparent knuckles encased his hands, weightless. Made of nonexistent orichalcum, they amplified mana exponentially. Infused with mana themselves, they could probably smash most spells bare-fisted. Divine confidence welled up.
With a shop voucher from the box, he headed straight there. He had about 350,000 karma stockpiled—enough for his targets: mid-grade mana potion and mid-grade Fist God fist arts manual.
Spare karma? Keep 50,000 for the battlefield, shop the rest.
He consciously used the voucher. Time froze, just like his first God's Tower visit. His mind was pulled elsewhere.
Sensing the colossal tower, he was transported inside. The overwhelming space spiraled with endless stairs.
"Oh, you came quickly?"
The winged, intellectual angel Raena greeted him. From her words, he gleaned that few warriors on Karen Continent visited the shop this fast. Protagonist buff demanded no less.
"Raena, long time no see?"
"Whoa, you gathered a ton of karma in such short time? What's the secret?"
"Haha, who knows? Gods must love me."
"Seems so. Impossible without deep divine faith."
Raena smiled slyly. She probably didn't know the gods' world well—noble on the surface, mostly lunatics underneath.
Shimmer!
Raena waved, flooding his mind with vast knowledge. One-time memory, Tower-exclusive. Too immense to retain permanently, so this workaround. Rough outlines lingered, enough to shop efficiently.
Rustle!
He willed his most desired items first.
Karma was tight, as expected. He'd earned plenty, but for advanced items, he'd need even bolder antics than before. How to rampage more while keeping justification? Tricky...
Probably research while advancing. 250,000 spent, 100,000 left. Reserve 50,000 for contingencies—even unrivaled among humans, myths/legends might demand karma.
50,000 spare.
"Yeah, buy these."