I Am the God of Games

Chapter 402: Revived

Rangka had thought about how it felt to die before this.

According to nonhuman myths, their souls would fuse with ancestral spirits after death and become a part of their ancestors, eternally protecting their tribe.

However, he had also heard of the human myths claiming that the Prince of Darkness retrieved the souls of the dead, using them as the cornerstone of the underworld and keeping them eternally in hell, and that there was only salvation through faith in the other gods—most claims were identical, and there only inconsistencies when it came to the religion in question, because that depended on church of the person you were asking.

However, it seemed that that was not the case for the believers of the God of Games.

Rangka felt as if he was floating in a pitch-black sea, unable to see or feel anything. His existence seemed to become illusory yet realistic at once, and he was not suffocating even if he could not breathe.

He could vaguely feel the presence of a certain thing nearby as well. If he pushed his senses, he could make out a vague feedback called ‘Player forums’.

However, before Rangka understood what was going on—though the minds of the dead should not be working, he felt that his body (or existence) was being pulled along by an invisible threat towards the surface of the pitch-black sea.

It was hard to describe that feeling, but it was immeasurably clear and definitely not imagined: he was escaping death with the help of a great but unknown power!

In the next split second and as if his head really poked his head out of the surface of the pitch-black sea, his lost organs returned inside his body. Indeed, Rangka had the impulse to shed tears amidst the warm sun and fresh air.

A blur figure appeared before him then.

Rangka, who had some understanding of human religion instinctively assumed that it was the ‘angels’, stewards of the gods whom the white-robed priests always mentioned, while he himself had arrived in a Divine Kingdom.

However, even as he looked on dazedly and in reverence, the ‘angel’ spoke.

“What the heck, why did a rabbit head come out?”

Soon, other voices followed.

“Where is he? Where is the baldy?”

“Who would still be a baldy with the Aesthetic System? No way!”

“I think the recently trending green turtle helm is no better than being bald.”

“Try not to say that out loud.”

‘This Divine Kingdom is quite noisy, is it not?’

Moments later, the dizziness in Rangka’s head faded and the sights before him became vivid.

At first, he had thought that he was not in a divine kingdom due to the noise around him, since it did not feel right that angels could be such trolls. Still, he doubted his judgment a little after seeing the sight before him.

The Long Ears’ village was a rather rundown tribal settlement, and almost all the houses were straw huts. In days where strong gust blew in from the Dark Tidal Coast, the entire tribe would have to hide in underground cavities and be prepared to rebuild their straw huts by the next day.

Even if the Long Ears had not moved out of the Vierlin Plains, their houses would at most be built with wood and clay given how far they had been cornered. Those were houses overflowing with Western Continent nonhuman aesthetic to put it gently, and natural primitive clay huts to put it harshly.

Moreover, the severance between civilizations due to the divine war made communication between the two continents difficult, and that naturally led to a difference in the recovery of human civilization on both ends.

The Eastern Continent had almost progressed to acceptable standards with their grand cities, but things were different on the Western Continent. The nonhumans’ influence and their wide conquests occupied most of the human’s domains, and with small-scale but numerous chaotic wars, the cities of the Western Continent were much smaller than Eastern Continent cities and much more backwater.

What few human cities around the Vierlin Plains which Rangka visited felt dirty and tattered. Moreover, since most of the buildings were made out of limestone and mudstone power, it gave the impression of dullness.

But the city before his eyes now was completely different—it was much more beautiful and grander compared to the Long Ears’ village or the human cities of the Western Continent.

In Rangka’s mind, if a divine kingdom truly existed in this world, this would be it.

The even red-bricked streets (pedestrian walkways, but Rangka doesn’t know that) were clean and tidy, with dust nowhere to be seen, let alone rubbish. Both sides of the streets were also lined full of pretty, exquisite buildings, embedded with wondrous but intricate metal decorations (fire hydrants), along with light pillars straighter and more towering than trees and benches. The people on the streets appear to be in a hurry, but there was no worry or blues showing on their faces, and they exuded only bliss and energy.

Soon, Rangka realized that hew was standing beneath a hovering rhombic sculpture.

There was another one of that in the Long Ears’ village made by the Players, but unlike the one that stuck out like a sore thumb against the buildings around it, the one here that towered over the streets appeared quite fitting.

It was such a wonderful and mythical place!

Rangka would bet the long ears he prided himself with that even the streets of Vannado, known as the Nation of Nations in the Western Continent would not compare to this place!

Even the plants on both sides of the streets were totally different. There were towering flower stems that grew over two meters, their emerald leaves larger than giant clams. The purple flowers were bright, beautiful and had the rare spots, and beneath its blossom were concealed, sharp teeth—

Hold on.

Teeth?

“Grooooooowl!” (A flower’s shrieking)

“Aaaaaaaaargh!” (A human’s scream)

“Oh my god! Mister Marni was eaten again!”

“Who the heck planted that thing? Wasn’t it already forbidden to plant offense-type magical plants in the town?”

“You bastards!”

“Stop with the memes! Mister Marni would be gone if you keep memeing!”

“Tch, the flower is too powerful and I’m not winning! Quick, get the peashooter!”

“It’s already uprooted. How about first-rate Players?”

“Every last one of them had gone off to play quests. Who else is in town?”

[Player Marni Wilf has been killed by Man-Eating Flower (temporary name)]

“Alright, move along, everyone. Remember to notify Mister Angora and have him send people to move the flower away.”

Hence, the bystanders slowly dispersed as if nothing happened and resumed their tasks at hand.

Still, Rangka was left blank, having witnessed this situation for the first time.

‘Uh... this doesn’t quite fit the impression I have of divine kingdoms?’

Suddenly, a rather familiar voice spoke beside him.

“Eh? Aren’t you Mister Rangka? Why are you here?”

Startled, Rangka turned around towards the voice, and realized that the person was someone he met several times before.

It was Joey Arbiter—the man who had kept following Zonyan Grayclaw around.

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