The World of Battle Gods

“By Ancestor Sigurd, my dear brother has actually regained his wits!”

Steve was the first to react, rushing to the towering statue in the center of the plaza. He bowed repeatedly before the unyielding knight, a figure that, even in stone, seemed to defy death. This was none other than the venerated ancestor of the Saint Sigurd Cain family, the Level 10 Sigurd Saint-Shine, Battle God himself!

“You…” Duke Anjes started, then caught himself, his gaze raking over Du Chen before he finally uttered, “Hmph, noted.” He then shifted his attention to Foye. “Since Francis is not only alive but also of sound mind again, you needn’t depart. Remain here, and instruct him in his letters and studies.”

Still reeling from the joyous revelation of Francis’s newfound lucidity, Foye nodded enthusiastically. “Indeed, I shall ensure the Young Master is tutored into an exemplary nobleman!”

“Enough. Steve, Charlie, let us return to the estate.”

Duke Anjes beckoned his two sons, displaying not the slightest flicker of emotion regarding his once-dimwitted son’s sudden clarity.

Du Chen, a knot of bewilderment tightening in his gut, stepped forward with a hesitant smile. “Father, I’ve regained my senses. Does this not bring you joy?”

“And what, pray tell, is there to celebrate?” Anjes dismissed Du Chen with a curt wave, turning his back and striding into the depths of the estate.

Second brother Charlie shot Du Chen a contemptuous glance, a sneer twisting his lips. “You may no longer be Saint John City’s idiot Third Young Master, but you remain a stain on the Saint Sigurd Cain family’s honor! The nobles will still whisper, ‘Good heavens, a descendant of the Sigurd Saint-Shine, Battle God, utterly incapable of cultivating battle qi! What a jest, the grandest humor on the entire Aethelgard Continent!’” He cast another venomous look at Du Chen, then turned and bowed deeply towards the central statue. “The Saint Sigurd Cain family has stood for a millennium, only to produce such… *a thing* as you! What an utter disgrace! Do you know what the Battle Gods themselves are rumored to say?” He mimicked in a mocking tone, “ ‘Did you hear? The red-haired Sigurd sired a golden-haired scion who cannot even cultivate battle qi!’ ”

With that, he followed Duke Anjes into the estate.

Du Chen stood rooted to the spot, a surge of anger threatening to erupt. Yet, the residual emotions of the original Francis overwhelmed him with an acute disappointment, bordering on despair. A dead, idiotic son had not only been resurrected but had regained his wits, and still, not a single trace of joy graced Duke Anjes’s face. Instead, there was an unmistakable hint of revulsion—*Why didn’t he just die for good?*

Du Chen, however, found himself more perplexed by the concepts of “battle qi” and “Battle Gods.” The former Francis had been an imbecile; it was already a miracle that his memories provided Du Chen with the local language and the most rudimentary common sense. Expecting any deeper knowledge of this world was clearly futile.

Everyone else had retreated, but the three closest to Francis — old Foye, Aliza, and his elder brother Steve — remained.

Steve approached, a comforting hand landing on Du Chen’s shoulder. “Don’t mind Charlie’s bluster, little brother. While you may not be able to cultivate battle qi, there’s always the path of scholarship! You could become a distinguished civil official someday.”

Du Chen, touched by Steve’s genuine concern, nodded with a smile. “Elder Brother, I’m fine. But there’s much I still don’t understand about this world. Would you be willing to enlighten me?”

“Very well, let’s head to your chambers.”

***

Through Steve and old Foye’s explanations, Du Chen gradually pieced together an understanding: this world bore a striking resemblance to medieval Europe. Three vast continents, arranged in an equilateral triangle across an endless ocean, formed the known world. Du Chen found himself in Saint John City, the bustling capital of the Lanning Empire, situated in the eastern reaches of the northern Aethelgard Continent.

While the Aethelgard Continent housed numerous nations, its society operated under a unique form of theocracy. All humanity worshipped a single, dominant faith: the Holy Church of Battle Gods! The Holy Church commanded a position as sacred and supreme as that of Christianity in Earth’s medieval Europe. Yet, this faith did not revere ethereal deities or mythical immortals. Instead, it venerated genuine historical figures: human powerhouses who had made immense contributions to mankind, all bearing the unified designation of — Titled Battle Gods! Sigurd, the ancestor of the Saint Sigurd Cain family, was one such Titled Battle God, venerated within the Holy Church.

Across the three continents, many powerful individuals existed today, proudly proclaiming themselves “Battle Gods.” These Battle Gods were categorized into Fiend Battle Gods and Martial Battle Gods, ascending through a total of ten levels. The first five levels were merely considered ‘Warriors,’ with true ‘Battle God’ status only bestowed upon those reaching levels six through nine. Should an individual’s power transcend that of a Level 9 Battle God, and they render monumental contributions to humanity, they would be bestowed a Battle God title. Simultaneously, their statue would be enshrined within the Holy Temple of the Battle God Church, elevating them to the rank of a Level 10 Titled Battle God, one of humanity’s most revered figures. Their descendants, naturally, were “Titled Battle God Scions”—born nobles, enjoying innumerable privileges under the benevolent patronage of the Holy Church of Battle Gods!

***

Once Steve finished his explanation, Du Chen eagerly interjected, “Then why am I unable to cultivate battle qi?” Though he felt no personal connection to this power, he grasped the underlying truth: Battle Gods were the true arbiters of this world, its undisputed elite. To rise in this society, one *must* become a Battle God!

Seeing his brother’s newfound sharpness, Steve’s mood brightened considerably, and he chuckled. “The power of Battle Gods flows from the Natural Primordial Force. And my dear brother, you, alas, are naturally incapable of sensing this primordial energy. So, *hehe*, you must forge a different path! Take, for instance, this handsome face of yours…” He playfully tilted Du Chen’s chin. “With such looks, charming a queen would be child’s play for you, and who knows, you might even find yourself King!” He tutted approvingly, scrutinizing Du Chen from head to toe.

“Forget it,” Du Chen thought with a wry, internal chuckle. “I’d say *you’re* far better suited to charming queens!” *Why bring up women now, of all times? Doesn’t he know his ‘brother’ is cultivating the mutated Precious Lotus Scripture?*

Yet, Du Chen found himself speaking with Steve with an ease he hadn’t experienced with his father or second brother, their banter and playful jabs flowing naturally. There was none of the forced politeness or veiled disgust he’d felt earlier. It seemed the bond between Steve and the original Francis truly had been strong.

Steve suddenly snapped his fingers, a grin spreading across his face. “Ah, yes! My dear brother, since you’re now so clearly sharp-witted, I’ll take you to a noblewomen’s banquet in a few days! Good heavens, you’re already fifteen and still a virgin? How utterly pathetic!” He rose to his feet. “Consider it settled then! Princess Yuna happens to be hosting a banquet in a few days, and I’ll escort you. Right, I should go see Father now. I daresay our Duke-father is already fretting over how to break the news of your… *resurrection*… to the other nobles!”

Foye personally saw Steve off, then settled back beside Du Chen, a gentle smile gracing his features. “Young Master, Young Master Steve is a good man. You should heed his words in the future.”

“Mm!” Du Chen nodded, a genuine smile forming. For an orphan, suddenly gaining an elder brother who genuinely cared—the feeling… it was surprisingly pleasant.

Aliza, a towering, broad-shouldered figure who nonetheless managed to curl up on the carpet, nodded his massive head. “Aye! I heard that Young Master Steve’s sacred oath, when he first embarked on the Path of the Battle God, was to safeguard *you*, Young Master!”

“A Battle God’s Oath?” Du Chen inquired, intrigued.

Old Foye merely chuckled. “That concerns the Battle Gods, Young Master. Best not to delve too deeply into it for now. Suffice it to say, Young Master Steve would never bring you harm!”

*Harm Du Chen? Heh. In his twenty-odd years as a master thief in his previous life, he’d rarely suffered a significant setback, save for that one time he was conned by that eccentric Daoist ‘Grape.’ Usually, he was the one causing trouble for others.* Du Chen rose from his chair. “Uncle Foye, I’d like to take a walk and explore Saint John City!”

“Very well, then. Take Aliza with you! But do be back for dinner, mind you!”

Du Chen, with Aliza in tow, exited the estate. Along the path, servants and guards alike regarded him with curious, almost bewildered glances, clearly unaccustomed to the transformed, suddenly sharp-witted Third Young Master.

Du Chen paid them no mind. Once outside, he promptly hopped onto Aliza’s broad back. “Are you fast?” he asked.

“I can outrun warhorses!”

“Excellent! Then take me around, and head for the busiest parts of the city!”

Aliza, however, didn’t quite grasp the reasoning behind Du Chen’s command. He tilted his bald head, a quizzical look on his face. “Why, Young Master?”

“Just run as I say! Tonight, your Young Master will treat you to a roasted suckling calf!”

At the mention of a roasted suckling calf, Aliza’s eyes widened, gleaming with delight. He immediately took off, his massive legs eating up the ground.

Du Chen’s excursion served two purposes: to learn more about this new world, and because he simply couldn’t sit still! The Precious Lotus Scripture was relentlessly badgering him with the subtle yet insistent urge to “seek out female beauty” and, through that, perform good deeds! As Aliza thundered forward beneath him, head down in earnest pursuit of his roasted calf, Du Chen wasn’t idle either. His entire focus was fixed… on his backside. Perseverance, they say, often finds its reward. And indeed, as Aliza streaked from the noble district in the city’s east to the bustling commoner quarter in the south, a familiar, tingling itch began to manifest on Du Chen’s posterior.

A good deed was at hand!

“Quick, Aliza! Towards that alley!” Du Chen exclaimed, pointing with feverish excitement.