Chapter 1: There Was a God, But Now There Isn’t (1)

“Young master…”

A voice called out in my dazed state.

It was firm, yet aged and kind.

“Young master, it’s time for your morning cough.”

The voice sounded like it was calling me, so I opened my eyes.

An elderly man with a familiar face stood there with a soft smile.

“You’re awake. Did you have trouble sleeping last night?”

Who was he?

He looked vaguely familiar…

I tried to speak, but dizziness suddenly hit me.

“Young master?”

Despite the swirling sensation, I could hear his voice clearly.

Did he just call me young master? Me?

I stared at the old man, then slowly turned my head.

A completely foreign, medieval-style room lay before me.

‘Is this a dream?’

Otherwise, how could my modern room turn into this antique setup overnight?

My half-open eyes scanned the surroundings until they landed on a mirror on the wall.

Inside it was a boy who had just woken up.

“Huh…”

Jet-black hair, sharp eyes.

Even with messy bedhead, he had the refined appearance of nobility.

But that face… it looked familiar.

“Young master Richard, are you feeling unwell? Should I call a physician?”

Ah, right. Richard.

The scoundrel—Richard Bartenberg.

‘Did I play too much yesterday?’

I chuckled at my reflection in the mirror, and the boy in the mirror smirked too.

I never imagined I’d end up in this situation.

Becoming the very character I crafted in a game.

Then it happened.

[System Reset in Progress…]

Mysterious text appeared in front of my eyes.

As my mind cleared, the situation became alarmingly clear.

“…Wait a second.”

The mirror reflected my face, slowly turning stiff.

[Reset Complete.]

It felt far too vivid for a dream.

***

I used to love playing a game called “The God.”

A simulation game where you play as the creator deity, shaping and guiding the world and its people.

“And this guy… is one of those creations.”

The original owner of this body—Richard Bartenberg.

A scoundrel swept away in the downfall of the greatest swordsmanship clan on the northern continent.

I swallowed my confusion and tried a command:

“Status window.”

[Richard Bartenberg]
-Talent: [None]
– Specialties: [None]
– Notes: [Mana Insensitivity]

Pathetic stats—definitely Richard’s.

Then, another status window appeared below.

[Hor (Richard)] – Lowest-tier Deity
> Temple Level: 1
– Followers: 0 ◻ Faith: 1,000
-Divine Powers: [Appoint Follower], [Receive Prayer]
-Unlocked Classes: [Novice Evangelist], [Novice Paladin], [Novice Priest]

It was the game’s divine system interface.

The familiar window brought a deep sigh.

Three days passed.

I could no longer deny this was reality.

No use wallowing in confusion—it just wasn’t in my nature.

Just then—

Knock knock.

“Come in.”

“Young master, I brought what you requested.”

The old man from before entered with several books.

His name was Gide Meyer—Richard’s loyal butler, and once the commander of a knight order.

“Thanks.”

As I flipped through the books, Gide asked cautiously…

“If you don’t mind me asking, why the sudden interest in history?”

“There’s a saying—those who forget history have no future.”

“…Is something troubling you?”

Yeah, a lot.

But I couldn’t say it out loud.

Gide was a loyal servant, devoted to Richard.

I couldn’t deceive him easily—so I just kept things to myself.

“These are all the books?”

“Yes. As requested, I brought the most credible historical records.”

“Good work.”

Gide bowed and turned to leave.

He seemed like he wanted to say something but didn’t.

And after he left—

“Appoint Follower.”

I reached out and invoked the command.

[Target has no faith.]

[Cannot appoint as follower.]

Gide turned back at my voice.

“Young master? What was that?”

“Nothing. Never mind.”

I gave a nervous smile to send him away.

Once alone, I let out a sigh.

Just as I feared.

The skill didn’t work—not on Gide, nor on the maid earlier.

And the status window called me a “lowest-tier deity.”

“Lowest-tier…”

Too degrading a title for the creator of this world.

To understand why, I turned back to the books.

Thud—

I slammed the book shut.

The last bit of hope crumpled on top of the stacked tomes.

“Not a single damn word about gods.”

Unintentionally, I’d studied this world’s history in-depth.

And there wasn’t a single mention of the divine.

Not even a footnote.

It was a shocking revelation.

In the game, every race worshipped me—Hor.

Humans, elves, orcs, dwarves—no matter how much they fought, they bowed before the creator.

But that was before I became Richard.

These five books confirmed it.

This world shared the history and cultures I remembered,

But all references to God were wiped clean—erased.

The miracles I performed?

Now explained as “coincidences” or “natural phenomena.”

Unless the authors were all radical atheists, this was the accepted norm.

‘Where did all that faith go?’

“…No. I can’t get distracted.”

I pushed away my doubts.

What mattered now was that I had become Richard.

And that I possessed a divine rank no one remembered.

I thought of Richard’s death.

And everything that came after.

“A time of chaos is approaching.”

Even without gods, the world’s history followed the game’s script.

Which meant its future would too.

Soon, wars would erupt.

Disasters would spread.

For a powerless scoundrel with “mana insensitivity,” this world would be hell.

But even so, I didn’t despair.

Shhhhh—

A radiant, sacred light bloomed from my fingertips.

‘Faith. Also known as the power of God.’

“If it’s come to this… then I’ll just start over.”

With power that could make the impossible possible—

There was nothing I couldn’t do.