Chapter 1

Vandam, a coastal city with a population of nearly one hundred thousand, is a shining gem on the Starlight Continent.

This city, situated on the Dusty Marsh Plain, has been blessed by the gods. It faces the White Wave Strait, known as the 'Golden Road,' and boasts a natural deep-water port. Forty percent of the world's maritime trade passes through this city.

This has brought endless wealth to Vandam, making the Premo royal family, the rulers of Vandam, the wealthiest family in the world, without a doubt. The name 'Vandam' itself means 'a city built with gold' in ancient Hebrew.

In this prosperous city, you can wear smooth silk clothes transported from the distant eastern continent across the Endless Sea, use whale oil from the frigid northern polar regions, equip yourself with divine weapons and armor crafted by dwarves hidden in mountain caves, and even buy beautiful female slaves from various races on the black market!

Here, you can get everything, and you can enjoy everything, but the prerequisite is: you must have gold coins in your pocket.

Unfortunately, our protagonist, an orphan named Roland who was abandoned as a child and doesn't even know which textile worker's womb he came from, has no gold coins. In his fifteen years of life, he has never even seen the yellow stuff.

His current total assets amount to only twenty silver coins, which he is tightly gripping in his hand, so tightly that his palm is sweating.

To gather this sum, Roland (to be precise, the previous Roland, as he is no longer the same person, at least not in soul) sold his only immovable property—his adoptive father's only residence, a dilapidated wooden shack that was almost indistinguishable from the outdoors. He then mortgaged his freedom and borrowed from Malfoy, the leader of the loan sharks in the Old District, taking on high-interest loans that would cost him everything, including his future.

The reason for this was that his adoptive father was dying. Years of alcoholism had completely destroyed his body, and cheap herbal remedies were no longer effective, not even to alleviate his pain. Only the divine magic of the temple priests could save him.

Now, Roland, with his 'huge sum' in hand, is outside the Helion Cathedral in the Old District, hesitating about whether to go in.

If it were just a moment ago, Roland would have had no hesitation; he would have done everything to save his adoptive father, as he was his only family. But now, he is no longer the original Roland. His soul comes from another world, a place called Earth.

There, this world is just a massive holographic game called 'Ancient Gods.'

A moment ago, he was playing a character, a powerful warrior at level 81 who had reached the Legendary realm, gathering herbs in the dangerous Moonlight Marsh to brew the 'Dragon Slayer' potion. In the next moment, after crossing a dark void, he became this emaciated, almost skeletal teenager.

When he first arrived, Roland even thought he was still in the game, and the strange surroundings were just a bug in the game.

But over the next hour, the environment's details, far surpassing Earth's game technology and blurring the line between reality and fiction, and the memories of the original Roland in his mind, all reminded him that things were not so simple. He had likely transmigrated, his soul crossing into a world similar to 'Ancient Gods.'

Otherwise, as a veteran player with ten years of gaming experience, he would have found the 'exit game' button.

Realizing this, Roland found it hard to accept, but he quickly came to terms with it. Regardless of his acceptance, the situation was what it was. Since he was still alive, anger and panic wouldn't solve anything; he had to face it rationally.

"Sacrificing everything to save his adoptive father, the original owner of this body was a man of honor and righteousness," Roland thought. If this adoptive father were a good person, he would have no hesitation and would definitely fulfill the young man's last wish to save him.

But the problem was that this alcoholic, Amos, was a complete old scoundrel. Yes, he raised Roland, but only until he was ten. For the next five years, the roles were reversed.

The old alcoholic, Amos, was swindled out of all his money by a woman, and he fell into a deep depression, drinking all day and even resorting to violence. More importantly, over the years, all his expenses—alcohol, food, clothes—were paid for by Roland's part-time work at the docks. This old man had been supported by a child for six whole years!

In Roland's current view, no matter how great the debt of gratitude, six years was enough. This old scoundrel was not worth the teenager sacrificing his future freedom.

If he used this money to seek help from the priests, he would definitely be unable to repay the high-interest loans, and he would become Malfoy's slave, losing everything.

Roland wanted to turn and leave, letting this nominal adoptive father fend for himself, but a strong, persistent thought kept echoing in his mind.

"Save him, save him, save Amos." The young man's obsession reverberated in Roland's head, intensely, even after more than an hour, it had not faded.

It was this thought that had driven Roland to the cathedral door, preventing him from turning away with a hard heart.

After much deliberation, Roland sighed and finally stepped into the Helion Cathedral.

It must be said, this world and the game 'Ancient Gods' were eerily similar. For example, this cathedral existed in the game, though not as realistically.

"Regardless, I have taken over your body. Since this is your last wish, I will help you fulfill it," Roland thought. As for the high-interest loans, he was a living person; he couldn't be defeated by such a small matter. There would always be a way to solve it.

Strangely, once he made the decision, the persistent thought in his mind calmed down significantly.

Inside the cathedral, Roland saw a priest. When he saw the priest's face, all the young man's memories of this person surfaced in his mind: "Conward, a noble priest."

Roland was slightly surprised because he recognized Conward, or rather, he remembered the name! In the game, he had once completed a quest line involving Conward.

At the beginning of the quest, Conward was just a very ordinary low-level priest, somewhat arrogant and greedy. But during the orc invasion, he survived a near-death experience, escaping the destroyed Vandam and rescuing over a hundred civilians. This experience transformed him.

He then joined the army, becoming a battle priest. With a series of lucky breaks and natural talent, by the moment Roland transmigrated, Conward had already ascended to become one of the world's few High Priests of the Holy Light, a key leader in the fight against the Destroyer Legion!

Roland hadn't expected to meet him here... Wait, orc invasion? The vanguard of the Destroyer Legion? Vandam being destroyed?

Roland's mind was flooded with the history of 'Ancient Gods,' and he was momentarily stunned.

The timing of his transmigration seemed a bit delicate. The Vandam that was supposed to have been destroyed by orcs was still standing, and Conward was just an ordinary low-level priest... Wait, he needed to confirm if this Conward had the same personality as in the game.

If their personalities matched, did that mean everything that happened in the game would happen here? The thought of the orcs sweeping in like a tidal wave, leaving nothing but desolation in their wake, sent a chill down Roland's spine.

He hoped... he hoped this wasn't the disaster-prone world of 'Ancient Gods.'

At that moment, Conward noticed Roland. He walked up and said coolly, "Hey, kid, today isn't the day of charity, the church doesn't give out porridge."

Indeed, he was still a bit arrogant, mistaking Roland's tattered clothes for those of a beggar seeking alms.

Roland stepped forward and pleaded softly, "Priest, I've come to ask for your help to save someone. Please, save my adoptive father; he is very ill."

The frail, small teenager looked humble, and his tone was urgent, but Conward sensed that the boy wasn't as anxious as he appeared and seemed to be secretly observing him.

Perhaps it was just a delusion; what could a small kid have on his mind?

Conward, a tall and imposing figure, looked down at Roland and said calmly, "Although the gods are merciful, divine magic is very precious and is only available to sufficiently devout believers."

This was a polite way of asking for money. A basic divine magic healing from a temple priest costs at least twenty silver coins, which was why Roland had gathered the money.

Roland noticed the impatience in Conward's eyes, clearly not believing Roland could afford it. This was eerily similar to his experience in the game.

"Truly terrifying," Roland thought. The more similar, the more likely other events from the game would repeat.

From the young man's memories, Roland knew it was the year 1158 of the Holy Era, and the orc invasion would begin in 1159, next year.

Roland felt his frail body, his height was fine, but he was too thin, like a bamboo stick, the complete opposite of his legendary warrior in the game.

In the game, as a professional player, he had entered late and missed the early opportunities, but his gaming talent was excellent. Just before transmigrating, he had reached the Legendary realm, becoming one of the top players. Now, all that was gone. His proud physical attributes, legendary weapons, various combat skills, and even his Master-level alchemy, were all lost.

Without power, how could he survive the orc invasion?

"Hopefully, history won't repeat itself," Roland sighed, though he had little confidence, as this world was too similar to the game, even in the details.

Roland's distraction was interpreted by Conward as a lack of money.

He sized up the teenager's patched, oversized, and tattered clothes, and his impatience turned to disgust. He disliked disheveled people, as they usually had only a few copper coins, if any, and often just fleas. These poor people always came to the church seeking charity.

In fact, he recognized the teenager, the adopted son of the alcoholic Amos. Given Amos's character, he definitely had no money.

"Roland, divine magic is a gift from the gods, very precious and limited. I have already used up my divine magic for today... Well, the merciful gods must have been moved by your devotion. I happen to have one spell left. I'll go with you," Conward's tone suddenly changed, and he skillfully pocketed the silver coins Roland handed over.

Since the boy had paid, and they were neighbors, he was willing to go with him.

Roland's face showed relief, though Conward still felt it was somewhat fake, as if it were an act. But he didn't think much of it; the son of an alcoholic wasn't worth his attention.

Roland immediately led the way, with Conward following behind.

They left the cathedral, passed through the busy docks, and entered the slums where dock workers lived, finally reaching the farthest corner of the homeless shelter.

The priest followed, his brow furrowed and his hand covering his nose to block out the stench. He grumbled, "Roland, why are you living in a shelter?"

Amos had once been a guard in Vandam and had a decent life. Even after becoming an alcoholic, he should still have had a small wooden shack, though it was very dilapidated.

"I sold the shack," Roland replied.

"Oh," the priest responded, somewhat surprised, then realized Roland had sold it to raise money for Amos's treatment. He suddenly felt the silver coins in his money bag were burning, but he preferred a burned hand to losing these precious coins.

Roland entered the shelter first, and the priest hesitated for a moment but followed. He had already been paid, so he would treat it as a good deed.

Upon entering, Roland was stunned but tried not to let his joy show.

He saw his adoptive father, Amos, lying twisted and stiff on the bed, his eyes wide open, and a cheap wine bottle rolled off his hand, spilling alcohol everywhere.

The old man had died on his own, saving Roland the money and the worry about the high-interest loans.

"Amos was a complete madman, drinking like there was no tomorrow. No one could stop him," an old man in the shelter sighed.

The priest, suppressing his disgust, approached and felt Amos's neck. He then turned to the silent teenager and said, "We were too late. He's gone."

Roland nodded, sighing deeply, feeling a sense of calm. The young man's obsession had also faded, indicating it had completely dissipated.

Everything was over; he was free.

Roland planned to get the money back from Conward, even if only partially, as it was his life savings.

"Child, don't be sad. Your adoptive father chose his path. You did everything you could, and no one could have done better," the priest, Conward, comforted him.

As he spoke, a soft glow appeared in his hand, a divine spell. The light did not shine on the dead Amos but entered the frail body of the teenager.

Roland's face showed surprise.

Conward misunderstood and explained, "Amos died from excessive drinking, which is suicide and a desecration of the body given by the Lord. He does not deserve the glory of the gods. You are naturally weak; may this divine light bless you and help you grow strong."

After that, Conward, unwilling to stay in the dirty and smelly shelter any longer, quickly left. Once outside, he touched his money bag, feeling the silver coins were no longer burning.

Roland could only smile bitterly. This Conward was still as greedy as ever, and once money entered his pocket, it never came out. He was not surprised by the priest's actions, but he was startled by the effect of the divine spell on his body.

The moment the spell entered his body, a line of information, different from this world, flowed through his mind.

"AI activated, unknown fault... Fault resolved, successfully entered the 'Ancient Gods' parallel universe. Host detected, initiating preset settings... Transmission successful."

"Acquired Basic Healing Spell, body nourished by divine energy, Vitality +1."

"Activated Talent: War God!"

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