Chapter 08
Cardil opened his mouth as if trying to speak, lips trembling, but no words came out. His eyes stayed glued to the floor.
I, however, had no time to worry about Cardil.
‘Since I’ve already started this, I need to act like a real god. If not, I’m dead…!’
The person standing before me was a direct priest of the Central Church.
A single report letter sent to headquarters, and my head would roll.
‘I took a big risk doing this too, you know.’
Not that I was bluffing without anything to rely on.
If this was the Cardil from the game I knew, he wouldn’t report me as a heretic. I was sure of it.
My confidence came from everything he showed in the original story—and now—his endless devotion to his patients.
‘If I heal every patient here, and even the ones who come later…?’
If someone comes with trauma, I can lie and say their faith isn’t pure enough yet. If it’s an illness, I’ll just cure them all.
Cardil will see every bit of it up close…
And once he sees everything, he won’t report me.
Cardil’s devotion to patients was his most absolute principle in life.
In the main game story, he abandoned his own order and beliefs—because patients were more important than religion.
I stared down at him. His hair was thick even at the crown. Good—no future baldness.
In the corner of my vision, the Weakness Detection skill window faded away like an old CRT TV shutting off. Time’s up.
About… five minutes? Not bad at all.
[Cooldown Time | 05:59]
A six‑hour cooldown…
Considering it was only Level 1, that was actually quite good.
Just then Cardil suddenly snapped his head up and glared at me.
Holy—! He scared me.
Hard to stay calm when you’re in the middle of conning someone.
“I-I believe in Lord Lumenesia, the Sun God, b-but… are you truly…”
He stuttered. My words had shaken him.
‘If I screw up here, I die.’
If news reached headquarters—100% torture and execution.
Just thinking about it gave me chills.
If I was lucky, I’d at least become pig feed after I died.
‘I need to take control now.’
I forced my mind to focus.
“Ah, so you think… I’m not actually a god, brother?”
I smiled as kindly as possible. Not that it mattered—Cardil wasn’t even looking at my face.
I lightly touched my lips, then reached out and patted his head.
As soon as my hand touched his hair, Cardil flinched hard.
I ignored it and continued stroking. His hair felt dry and rough.
‘Discipline time.’
If I wanted to stay alive!
“It’s understandable. Even my devout followers sometimes stray. Guiding them back to the proper path… is also my duty.”
I turned and placed my hand on the forehead of a groaning patient. His skin burned like fire.
“I could not ignore the cries of the suffering—that is why I came here.”
I drew out the power of the sacred relic again. Golden light burst between my fingers.
The already dark hut—now swallowed by night—filled with blinding gold.
Scraps of cloth covering the window fluttered as light spilled outside.
Golden particles rained through the air and vanished before touching the floor.
The light faded, darkness returned.
As if a miracle had appeared—and disappeared—in an instant.
The first patient, sitting on the bed, gasped and bowed his head to the floor.
Right then, the second patient regained consciousness.
Cardil stood frozen, his face blank with shock.
One miracle might have been coincidence, but two?
He didn’t know whether to believe or not.
Smiling benevolently, I spread my arms wide. My dark brown robe unfurled like wings, making me look all saintly and holy.
“Fear not. I merely refused to stand idly by while the living cried in pain.”
“Oooooh…”
The first patient pressed his forehead against the ground again.
The number of believers ticked up at the edge of my sight, but I couldn’t afford to look.
I had to stay deep in method acting…!
I gently brushed aside the second patient’s hair.
“Now that your god stands before you, leave all anxiety and suffering to me, the one who bears the burden.”
I helped the first patient stand. He stumbled like a newborn foal—probably bedridden for a long time—so it actually looked like I was doing something bad.
Well… I was.
A scammer pretending to be a savior—definitely a bad guy.
The two patients, weak as they were, bowed again and again to show respect.
If someone healed my nearly-dead body with a touch of the hand, I’d probably suspect they were divine too.
Still, being on the receiving end was…
‘Pressure… so much pressure…’
Yeah. Uncomfortable as hell.
The coachman, at least, had reacted moderately. These patients were worshipping me more than the guy who cared for them—Cardil.
Even after saving patients, Cardil still wouldn’t give me a friendly look.
My anxiety spiked.
‘He’s not going to report me, right? Please don’t report me… I saved your patients…’
While I was mentally sobbing, Cardil spoke sharply.
“If you claim to be an ascetic, why are you pretending to be a god?”
His suspicion sharpened. Yeah—there’s the canonical personality I knew.
But I had changed my wording to “ascetic” on purpose.
“When a god resurrects, they rise in the lowest of places and perform miracles. And before becoming a true god again, they must walk the Path of Asceticism. Even devoted priests walk this path regularly to honor the divine. I, too, am simply beginning again from the lowest point.”
Cardil frowned, uncertain.
Probably because his brain was fried from hours of fear, shock, and panic.
“And so, when I performed a miracle and coughed blood—that too was the result of bearing a holy mission beyond mortal flesh.”
A newly-conscious patient, sitting up thanks to my help, asked with shining eyes:
“Then… do you not yet possess a complete body?”
“Unfortunately, no. To descend to this world, I had to leave much behind.”
Even with my nonsense, the patient nodded eagerly, crossing himself repeatedly.
“Only the true faith of the living and the dead can restore this imperfect vessel to a holy and complete form.”
“Ooooooh…”
Honestly, it was embarrassing.
But I didn’t show it.
The unfortunate truth was—no matter how much I self‑promoted, Cardil still didn’t believe I was a reincarnated god.
The believer count hadn’t increased beyond the two patients and the coachman.
I didn’t even appear in the temporary follower window.
Damn it. I just wanted to make things easier.
At this rate, I was going to end up hanging in the plaza.
I hurried to add:
“You don’t need to believe me right away, brother. I will not force faith upon you. Simply watch, feel, and realize it yourself.”
Survival‑driven silver tongue at work.
Forcing faith only creates rebellion.
So I continued placing my hand on each patient’s forehead, healing them one by one.
When I finished, ten patients regained consciousness.
And finally—the system changed.
[Number of Followers: 11]
As soon as they got out of bed, they believed in me like they were hypnotized.
Which was reasonable—right now, I was radiating the “Divine Aura.”
To a patient’s perspective? Probably terrifying.
Just yesterday, they were dying. Today, they were healed with a touch.
Their neighbors and fellow patients watched miracles happen too—and pressured them to worship me.
Of course they’d believe.
When the last one was healed, a strange exhaustion washed over me.
‘Feels like I stayed up all night and worked out for five hours…’
[system: If the follower count remains ‘11’ after 11 hours 59 minutes, physical body will begin progressive collapse.]
Phew. My self‑inflicted doom got delayed 12 hours.
[ Followers: 11 ]
Hmm. Only 9 more for a reward.
If I went around noble estates and plague houses like a Chinese food delivery guy collecting empty bowls, I could fill that easily.
In the main game story, incurable disease quests were major content. Just clearing those would earn a ton of rewards.
Now I’d go to the coachman’s house, eat, and ask for a place to sleep.
I turned to leave, planning to freeload there indefinitely.
Cardil watched me, expression unchanged.
“Will you return?”
But his voice was softer than before.
“If the living are in pain, I cannot ignore them. It is my given mission.”
I tried to sound holy.
But behind the words was:
‘I want to live… I don’t want to die being tortured…’
In truth, I had absolutely—
