The Gods’ Gacha Game: Return of the God-King

Chapter 153: Memorial of the Fallen

The cathedral loomed behind us, casting long shadows over the graveyard beyond. Rows of weathered headstones stretched across the grounds, worn smooth by time. The air was cool and still, carrying the faint scent of incense drifting out from the open doors behind us.

We stood before four freshly prepared markers, each bearing a single name: Grun, Korr, Arlen, and Liora.

There were no bodies to lay to rest, as Divine Will almost never granted such closure. All that remained were names etched into stone, their weapons, and the memory of how they had fallen… standing their ground when retreat was no longer an option, at least in the case of Grun and Korr.

No one among us uttered a single word.

Michelle stood with her hands clasped tightly in front of her, head slightly bowed. Lucian and Tuilë maintained straight postures, both unusually still. Erika lingered a short distance away with her arms crossed while holding a composed expression that seemed to hide her fragility. Boris, meanwhile, murmured something under his breath as he placed a bottle of beer before Grun’s marker, then another before Korr’s.

None of us looked particularly sad. Perhaps it was because the time most of us had spent together had been limited to the tenth scenario, and it was too short to truly know one another. More than grief, what remained among us was guilt.

Boris placed a hand against the cold stone.

“They held the line, and that’s all there is to it,” he said. “These memorials are the least we can do. They did their best, and now they can rest in peace.”

Boris seemed accustomed to this kind of moment. Having once been a soldier, seeing comrades fall was something he had faced more times than he cared to remember. I understood then that this wasn’t the first time he had stood in a place like this, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

We stood there a while longer, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Eventually, we turned to leave, carrying a different kind of resolve with us. If we didn’t want to end up like Grun, Korr, and the others, then we would have to grow stronger at all costs.

As we walked away from the graveyard, my thoughts drifted back to the conversation we’d had over dinner the night before, before I returned to my room. I had made it clear then that our next priority wasn’t blindly challenging new scenarios like we usually did. What mattered most was fulfilling the prerequisites for our next class advancement. If Boris, Michelle, and the others could reach Daleth rank before the Battle of Divine Will, it would significantly increase our chances of survival while also strengthening Istellia’s side.

Of course, I knew that advancing my own class wouldn’t be so simple. Unlike the others, gathering the required experience points and killing a monster fifty levels above my own would be difficult to accomplish in just a few days. My best option was clearing the Forgotten Vault dungeon in the Great Wilderness.

Even if I somehow managed to achieve those prerequisites, there was still the Trial of Paradox Convergence I needed to consider. Attempting it without adequate preparation—or sufficient free time—would be extremely dangerous. Still, there was a chance I could advance after the first stage of the Battle of Divine Will, which would likely last around a week or so.

Speaking of which, there was still a considerable amount of loot from the past few scenarios that we hadn’t sold yet. On top of that, I had accumulated a substantial number of soul coins. It might be time to spend them to further improve my combat capabilities… Or I could also invest them in the Genesis Order so that they could become useful in the Battle of Divine Will.

As I was weighing my options, I noticed something was wrong as we left the cathedral grounds.

Everyone in the vicinity had stopped, staring in the same direction. Some were trembling, as though reminded of a past trauma they would rather forget.

“Again?” someone muttered nearby in fear.

We all looked up and found that the sky above the cathedral darkened as layers of translucent light folded inward. A massive, disembodied head began to take shape, its divine presence forcing every divine warrior in the vicinity to look up—whether they wanted to or not. The projection resolved into Istellia’s face, which was hauntingly beautiful, like a goddess peering down from beyond the veil.

Indeed, it was another god’s decree. Something that I’d anticipated would happen with the Battle on the horizon. Because we were so close to the cathedral, the floating head appeared even more humongous from where we stood.

“Hear the words of our goddess!” a voice echoed across all of Fantasia, ringing like a bell tolling judgment as a radiant column of light descended from the sky. From within it, a small winged figure emerged. It was none other than Raphael, the chibi archangel, wearing her usual stern expression.

Everyone immediately turned toward her, and the surrounding crowd fell into complete silence.

“Lady Istellia has decreed,” Raphael began solemnly, “that from this day onward, any divine warrior who has completed the tenth scenario will no longer be forced to challenge a new scenario each week.”

A moment of stunned quiet followed, then gasps, and finally, cheers rippled through the crowd. This was the first time good news had ever come from Raphael during a god’s decree, and it was exactly as I had suggested to her.

The cheers took a moment to die down. Raphael waited patiently, her wings fluttering once as her gaze swept across the gathered divine warriors. When silence finally returned, her expression hardened, and the atmosphere grew heavy once more.

“However, this decree is not an act of mercy!” Her voice rang out, carrying effortlessly across Fantasia.

“The first Battle of Divine Will is approaching,” Raphael announced. “Its commencement will mark the beginning of a conflict unlike any you have faced before. From that moment onward, divine warriors will no longer be tested as individuals alone, but as a single army under Lady Istellia, the Goddess of Imagination. You will face other divine warrior armies, each sworn to enemy gods, across several scenarios, competitions, and battles.”

A low murmur spread through Fantasia.

“In preparation for this,” Raphael continued, “Lady Istellia has decreed that Fantasia will host a tournament in the Grand Colosseum in two days. The purpose of this tournament is only one: to determine a leader among Fantasia’s divine warriors. One who will serve as their commander during the Battle of Divine Will.”

That announcement, more than anything else, captured everyone’s attention. To become the leader of all divine warriors in Fantasia would make one the foremost divine warrior of the city. Every faction, every guild, every independent combatant would be forced to acknowledge their authority—exactly what so many groups in Fantasia had been vying for all along. More importantly, this leader would not be chosen by the gods, but by combat. Strength alone would decide who stood at the top.

“The selected commander will be granted special authority,” Raphael declared. “They will be given access to strategic privileges, temporary command-based blessings, and priority in resource allocation during the Battle. Their directives will be recognized by Istellia’s domain, and their decisions will directly influence Fantasia’s overall contribution to Divine Will.”

The murmurs swelled into open excitement. Some faces lit up with ambition, while others tightened with unease. Leading divine warriors was not an honor without cost. A commander would bear responsibility not only for victories, but also for defeats—for every decision that sent others to their deaths.

Actually, the one who had proposed hosting a tournament to determine the commander was none other than me. The reasoning was simple. Without a single leader to command the divine warriors of Fantasia—and keep them in check—the Battle of Divine Will would be all but lost. Our side would devolve into a flock of headless chickens or even geese on the loose, each pursuing their own agenda with no coordination or restraint. And no matter how strong or how much contribution I made, it wouldn’t change the end result. Since I didn’t want that to happen, I had advised Istellia of this necessity through Raphael the last time we met.

Raphael’s gaze turned subtly, sweeping across the whole of Fantasia. For a split second, I felt it settle on me, as though she expected me to step forward and claim the role of commander. Unfortunately for her, that expectation would not be met.

Despite being the one who proposed it, I had no intention of becoming the commander of Istellia’s divine warrior army. I had a more important role to play in the Battle of Divine Will, and I couldn’t be bogged down by the responsibility of leading others. Nor was I the best candidate for such a position to begin with. Instead, there was someone else who fit the role far better.

I turned my gaze toward the bare-chested Russian man who stood tall beside me with an imposing figure.

If there was anyone I trusted to lead, it was Boris. He was a powerful man with a strong personality, the kind that compelled others to listen, whether they liked it or not. He was a far better leader than I could ever be. Guiding a party or even two was manageable, but leading hundreds, perhaps thousands, of divine warriors with their own ambitions and agendas was not something I had any desire to shoulder.

If I were to command, it would be over something that obeyed without hesitation. Something like the Genesis Order.

“Participation is voluntary,” Raphael added. “But once chosen, the role cannot be refused.”

With that final sentence, Raphael dispersed into particles of light. The massive, disembodied head above the cathedral faded as well, vanishing as though it had never existed.

Even so, I couldn’t deny that this tournament was exactly the kind of opportunity that attracted both heroes and fools in equal measure. And more importantly, it was a stage designed to draw out the ambitious divine warriors who had been waiting for a chance to prove themselves. Not that I cared about any of that.

Instead, I turned my attention to Boris.

He was staring ahead, a wide grin already spreading across his face. The title of commander likely meant far less to him than the chance to clash with the strongest divine warriors Fantasia had to offer.

“Boris, I think you should enter the tournament.”

“Hahaha! You think so?” Boris laughed heartily. “Strong opponents, no restrictions, and the winner takes command. How could I possibly miss that?”

I nodded. That was exactly the response I expected.

“But lad, shouldn’t you be the commander?” he asked, turning to look at me. “You’ve got the deepest understanding of Divine Will among us and certainly among all the divine warriors in Fantasia.”

I shook my head in response. “This isn’t just about knowledge. Leading thousands of divine warriors isn’t something you solve with information alone. Experience matters just as much. And you’re the only one here with real experience leading others that I can trust.”

Boris had a wealth of military experience, as he had shared with us through his many stories. He had once mentioned that he held the rank of lieutenant colonel during his active service. Even though it wasn’t the highest rank—and it had been years since he last served—he still had firsthand experience commanding over a thousand soldiers on the battlefield.

“Great. Then leave it to me.” He thumped his chest.

The others didn’t object to the arrangement. Although, I told them they were free to participate as well if they wished. After all, the more of us who participated, the more secure the position would become. However, since I neither wanted the role nor wanted to expose my true abilities, I wouldn’t be participating unless circumstances forced my hand.