Backworld.

Within the frozen wasteland of endless snow and ice, the still and silent ground suddenly began to tremble.

The vibrations grew stronger with every passing heartbeat until, with a deafening crack, jagged rocks burst violently upward. They tore through the frost-bitten soil like fangs sprouting from the jaws of the earth itself. In the span of mere moments, the once-desolate plain transformed into a sprawling labyrinth of stone pillars and towering crags—an ancient, living stone forest.

And in the very heart of this forest, a colossal figure stirred.

The ground rumbled again as an enormous stone tortoise slowly opened its eyes. Its gaze was heavy, primeval, and suffused with power. At the same instant, an overwhelming wave of mind power spread outward in all directions, sweeping across the wasteland like a storm surge.

This was no ordinary creature.

The tortoise, known as Gulis, was a Fake God of the ancient pantheon. Its very being had long since been corroded by the essence of godhood, leaving behind something unrecognizable.

But to say it had "lost itself" would not be accurate. It had not been reduced to a mindless beast.

No—Gulis still possessed reasoning. Its logic was sharp, and its mind was intact. It could weigh options, assess risks, and form strategies. What it had lost was something deeper, something more sacred: its original soul. In its place lingered something alien, warped and hostile, as if the shell of the creature still remained, but the essence within had been replaced by something entirely foreign.

After a long silence, Gulis's voice rolled through the stone forest, deep and resonant like boulders grinding against each other.

"I can feel it… the power of faith is slipping away."

With that faith, its strength too was ebbing, bleeding away piece by piece.

This was the great weakness of the ancient gods. Their power was a direct reflection of their followers' belief. When faith waned, so too did their divine might.

And Gulis could feel, with disturbing clarity, that many of its followers had already turned away. Their devotion had shifted, flowing toward another source.

Even stranger, these defectors all seemed to be moving in the same direction—as though pulled by some irresistible force.

Turning its massive head, Gulis peered into the distance. On the far horizon, through layers of shifting snow, it discerned the outline of a magnificent city.

A city it knew well.

The City of Luck.

A city founded personally by the Luck Goddess, Luke.

Even for one as mighty as Gulis, the City of Luck was a forbidden place. He would never dare set foot there lightly.

But why, then, were so many of his believers abandoning him… to follow that city?

Confusion darkened the tortoise's gaze, quickly followed by dread. His massive head swayed as he considered the implications.

"Impossible… City of Luck?" he muttered, unease twisting in his chest.

To challenge a god was suicide. Even one of his strength would not dare risk offending such a being.

And yet, if he ignored this bleeding of faith, his strength would continue to collapse.

A dangerous situation indeed.

For Gulis, the entire state of Backworld seemed to have grown even more precarious than before. Something must have happened in the City of Luck—something momentous. Otherwise, how could there suddenly be such a widespread shift in faith?

And not merely a shift.

His former believers had become fanatics. Their devotion burned brighter than anything he had seen in centuries.

Through his perception, Gulis even caught snatches of their inner prayers:

"Praise be to You, Great Majesty Crossbridge! Grant me Your strength, and I shall serve as Your most faithful disciple."

"So powerful! This is the strength bestowed by Lord Crossbridge? What an incredible blessing!"

"Lord Crossbridge seems close to the other gods… He must be one of them Himself!"

Each whisper cut into Gulis like a knife.

City of Luck.

At the Infinite Divine Temple, Daniel stood proudly upon the high platform, his cloak billowing in the sacred wind. His mind power expanded outward like a vast sea, blanketing the entire city.

His cultivation had already reached the demigod level. With the augmentation of his Psychic Perception, he could even exert effortless control over other demigods.

Beneath the platform stretched a sea of living beings—tens of millions of creatures of every shape and race. They prostrated themselves on the cold stone, their heads bowed in reverence before the figure they hailed as Majesty Crossbridge.

And still more were coming. From far beyond the walls of the City of Luck, waves of believers streamed in ceaselessly, driven by fervent zeal.

"Praise be to You, Great Majesty Crossbridge!"

The chant rose in unison, rolling like thunder across the streets and plazas.

Meanwhile, Gulis's mind power had extended across vast distances, probing into the city. What it saw there made its eyes widen with disbelief.

A lone human stood upon the altar, bathed in divine radiance.

"Who is that…?"

It frowned.

From the aura, he was only a demigod at best.

Just a demigod!

How dare such a meager creature impersonate a god? How could a mere mortal dare to stand in the place of the divine? Did he not fear the wrath of the believers, or their loss of faith when the truth was revealed?

Lowering its massive head, Gulis's mind raced.

The possibility trees unfolded in its thoughts—tens of thousands of outcomes simulated in the blink of an eye.

Yet in all of them, one question remained unanswered: why would a simple demigod have the audacity to stand there, basking in the worship of millions?

"Are these believers truly so blind?" Gulis muttered bitterly. "Have they gone mad with fanaticism?"

But before it could untangle the paradox, a subtle shift fell over the land.

From above, a faint red glow trickled down—bloodlight, insidious and consuming.

At once, Gulis's mind twisted.

Dark, violent impulses surged unbidden into his thoughts.

Kill him.

Kill that demigod.

If he dies, all this faith will be mine!

His crimson eyes blazed, madness overtaking reason. Every second of hesitation cost him more power. His strength was leaking away, draining like sand through an hourglass. If it continued much longer, even slaying a single demigod might prove difficult.

He could not wait.

He would not wait.

"Kill him…" the tortoise growled, its voice now guttural, trembling with hunger. "Seize his faith, and ascend to true godhood!"

The City of Luck being a god's domain no longer mattered. His mind had narrowed to a single point of obsession: the human demigod standing upon that altar.

Back at the Infinite Divine Temple, Daniel smiled faintly, lips curling with satisfaction.

This—every moment of it—had been part of his plan.

Catching Fake Gods was not a task of hunting. It was like fishing.

If all you had was a single rod, it was foolish to chase schools of fish. The effort would be enormous, and the success slim.

The smarter tactic was to cast bait into the water, to scatter temptation, and wait for the greedy ones to come to you.

That was exactly what Daniel had done.

By intentionally leaking his presence, by openly flaunting the ocean of faith gathered in the City of Luck, he had cast his bait into the abyss.

And the Fake Gods, addicted to faith as they were, could not resist.

One by one, they would come to him.

Of them all, the closest… was Gulis.

Already, the great tortoise had burrowed deep beneath the earth, tunneling toward the City of Luck at incredible speed. It did not realize that every step it took was already within Daniel's calculations.

"Not bad," Daniel thought, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Looks like I've hooked a particularly foolish Fake God."

His anticipation swelled. His strength had grown, but he had yet to test its limits in true combat.

Now, a fully intact Fake God was coming straight for him.

How could he not be excited?

This battle would reveal just how far he had climbed.

His blood thrummed in eagerness.

Far away, Gulis raged within his stone forest.

"Damn it!" he bellowed, his power slipping faster and faster. "Why is the flow accelerating?"

Desperation overtook him. His gaze burned with hatred, his shell trembling with fury.

Kill him. Kill the human. Take his faith. With that power, perhaps… perhaps I can take the final step. Perhaps I can become a true god.

His mind screamed. His will roared. His body surged forward.

The hunt had begun.

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