Chapter Forty-Four: The Prospective Priest

The surprises he had experienced lately had taught Zhao Xu to temper his excitement. He merely glanced at the spell statistics on his character card.

[Cleric:
Zero-level divine spell slots: 3 = 3 (class)
First-level divine spell slots: 2 = 1 (class) + 1 (wisdom)]

This information was similar to what he had seen for the wizard class. The only difference was that all of it was in a dim, inactive state, not yet activated—just as it had been frozen when he logged in earlier that morning without meditating.

His wife, in her previous life, had undergone cleric training, so he was somewhat familiar with the process. Clerics obtained their spells through meditation and prayer. They did not need to study any spells; simply by contemplating at fixed times, they could receive the day’s spells as a gift from the deity. Even without a full eight hours of rest, this was not hindered.

His current state was such that, after just one hour of meditation, he could receive his divine spells for the day. The final one percent of possibility he had lacked was filled at the moment he crossed the threshold of the chapel and the goddess descended.

At this moment, Zhao Xu was effectively a cleric-in-waiting; only a few remaining, not particularly difficult, training steps were needed. This was almost unbelievable to him.

In his previous life, Zhao Xu had seen many apprentice clerics who spent their entire lives poring over sacred texts, seeking to understand the divine doctrine, yet never formally advanced to level one cleric, even into old age. Even in that year, when the gods were lenient with players, the success rate for advancing to a level one cleric remained low. Aside from the innate self-awareness of players, the main reason was that the opportunity for advancement was not something one could force; it was beyond human effort.

That was why his wife had eventually abandoned the path of the cleric.

Though Zhao Xu now found himself in such a miraculous situation, he knew that silence was the best choice. The opportunity was too subtle. His true pursuit was the Scholar of Tomes profession; being a level one cleric was sufficient. From what he knew, the abilities granted by the cleric class would be enough for him to recoup his investment.

At that moment, everyone in the chapel stood reverently. Amid the unending toll of bells, they all offered silent prayers to the goddess within their hearts. Zhao Xu wondered if it had something to do with his having been swept along the river of time to witness the goddess before she attained divinity.

Now, his reverence for the goddess was far less intense than before his crossing. The closer the distance, the less awe one feels. This was why wizards respected the goddess but did not necessarily worship her.

Zhao Xu dared not assume the goddess sought anything from him. He wasn’t so conceited. Rather, he sensed that the goddess needed to rely on him. The urgency was such that she could not wait for him to grow stronger before intervening. All he could surmise was that his identity as a transmigrant made him a variable in fate. He was like an unexpected piece on a stalemated chessboard—small in power, but enough to stir up ripples.

He did not swagger about or look around. Like the other believers, he bowed his head humbly. This was the norm in Arthur. Even though his wife never became a cleric, she remained a devoted believer.

In Arthur, when living beings died, their souls generally drifted to the outer planes aligned with their disposition, as shown in the outermost ring of the planar wheel he had seen. Believers, however, would receive divine protection and be admitted into the god’s realm. Thus, apart from mighty wizards whose souls were indestructible, most people earnestly sought out a deity whose alignment matched their own.

No one wanted their soul to wander the otherworld without consciousness or refuge after death, or worse, to fall into the abyss or hell and become prey. Zhao Xu did not doubt the sincerity in the murmured prayers he heard around him.

At last, the bell’s sound faded, tinged with a certain mournful sentiment.

“The goddess has departed,” the voice of Lei An rang out in Zhao Xu’s mind.

By now, Zhao Xu was no longer unfamiliar with such communication; he recognized it as Lei An casting a spell. He glanced at the information panel on his character card. His status was topped by a notification: [You are currently under the Mind Link spell with Lei An].

These notifications were reflections of Zhao Xu’s consciousness. If he misunderstood or misidentified the spell, the notification would display erroneous information, because the information panel could not confirm reality. One could not rely on it to judge whether he was truly under the spell or if he was actually communicating with Lei An.

Nevertheless, when Zhao Xu focused on the words “Mind Link,” he immediately connected with Lei An. If he wanted to refuse such a connection, he could do so through this method.

“So soon?” Zhao Xu carefully chose his words, using a neutral tone. Gods could not read the thoughts of mortals, but any mention of their names would be known to them. Every word spoken about a deity would be heard, including the next several words.

“Brother, today we’re here to attend someone else’s ceremony, not the other way around. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have appeared so hastily—I wanted to urge you to come quickly. Even Antinoia felt embarrassed to give you a reward,” Lei An remarked casually, calling him ‘brother,’ which made Zhao Xu feel awkward. Who knew how old this wizard, who looked about thirty, actually was?

Only when Lei An mentioned the reward did Zhao Xu recall it. He had been so absorbed in the sadness of Antinoia’s departure that he had forgotten her promise to reward him.

“Do you know what the reward is, Mr. Lei An?” Even though they were communicating mentally, Zhao Xu’s curiosity was overwhelming.

Antinoia was the kind of powerhouse who could casually hand out a legendary headband with +12 Intelligence. Anything she gave would surely be valuable—even if not +6 Intelligence, at least +2, surely.

“How would I know? Most of what Antinoia gives are things she makes herself, all marked by her personal style. She never lets me see them. I expect you’ll receive it the next time you meet her, after completing your cleric training.”

“But we were still late and didn’t make it to the innermost sanctuary, where the goddess’s attention is strongest. Maybe you would have been promoted directly to cleric and received your divine spells.”

“The sanctuary?” Zhao Xu quickly asked.

“Yes, today the sanctuary is open for three hundred people. I used special privileges to reserve the prime spot for you in the center, but the goddess descended so quickly that you didn’t need it. Go to the sanctuary now—divine energy is still strong there, and it might increase your chances of receiving divine spells.”

Lei An added mentally, “Those who couldn’t get on the list of three hundred are all waiting for this opportunity. Otherwise, do you think so many people would crowd in here for nothing?”

Zhao Xu was surprised: “Isn’t there holy water to distribute?”

“Holy water? That stuff only deals 2D4 (2–8) damage to undead and evil outsiders. I can toss out a fireball for 10D6 (10–60) damage, and even add half divine damage with metamagic. Or do you have some special hobby—planning to ‘educate’ some legendary succubus?”

“Never mind, stop rambling and go secure your place,” Lei An suddenly remembered something, his face flushed, quickly diverting Zhao Xu’s attention.

“No need to squeeze in.”

“What?”

“I’ve already received divine spells.”

“......”

“I said, I’ve already received divine spells.”

His words echoed emptily between them.