Has The Lord’s Career Chart Been Filled Today? – Extra 1
For the nearly immortal deities, receiving a rare stern reprimand from that most beautiful and dazzling Majesty brought not so much shame as a peculiar sense of satisfaction for most of them.
“As expected of His Majesty,” remarked Plage, who was in excellent spirits, unexpectedly initiating conversation with his timid rival Helf: “Whether it’s his dignified and solemn demeanor, his gentle and compassionate eyes, or that slightly lowered melodious voice… it truly captivates my heart.”
Helf nodded vigorously.
Even Vor, the god of war who rarely engaged with other deities, couldn’t resist joining the conversation, sighing sincerely: “Even when a nightingale speaks harshly, its song remains sweet—how much more so for such a radiant and sacred Majesty.”
That stern scolding…
Listening quietly, the Harvest Goddess Havest couldn’t help but cover her lips with her hand to conceal the ripples in her eyes.
…Who wasn’t enjoying it?
The god of light Sunn passed by silently, his dark golden eyes carrying a faint melancholy. Only when brushing past Vor did he curve his lips slightly and say lightly: “Is that so? Then by all means, complete the tasks assigned by His Majesty later.”
These words undoubtedly poured cold water on the excited deities.
They truly didn’t mind being scolded by His Majesty—rather, in their hidden, unspoken expectations, accustomed to gentle breezes and mild rains, suddenly receiving harsher lashings gave them a unique satisfaction.
However, whether it was worsening His Majesty’s mood or the dreadful prohibition against entering the God-King’s Hall before fulfilling their respective duties was enough to sober them up.
“Disgusting creature who only knows how to glow all day.”
Plage, who had been pleasantly delighted moments before, knowing he was no match for Sunn, could only vent his anger on Helf the next moment, returning to his malicious tone: “What are you still standing there for? Don’t think I’ll tolerate you like His Majesty does. If you dare hold me back, I’ll definitely—”
“My, why are you all still here?”
The Rose Goddess Rose passed by gracefully, speaking the most cutting remarks that could provoke them with her most charming expression: “Especially you, Plage, still so relaxed—how remarkable. Though it seems our merciful Majesty was most angry with you this time… If you frighten Helf again and make him go crying to His Majesty with the truth, you’ll likely be forbidden from entering His Majesty’s sacred domain for a long time to come.”
Her divine power was undoubtedly the weakest among these deities, even inferior to Helf, who was always suppressed by Plage.
Yet she presided over the roses, which were most beloved by His Majesty, and her current task was simple: to make the dormant roses on earth bloom before winter arrived, bringing people the enjoyment of beauty.
Exceptionally skilled at reading expressions, she fully leveraged His Majesty’s favor—not only often flaunting her power with two completely different faces but also always managing to retreat unscathed after mischievously fanning the flames.
Just like now, though Plage was infuriated by having his sore spot ruthlessly poked, he could only storm off in a huff.
“Rose.”
After quietly listening for a while on the side, Havest—whose face had maintained the same compassionate smile as the statues in the divine temple—suddenly spoke gently: “Actually, you didn’t need to remind Plage.”
“I regret it too.” Only belatedly grasping the meaning behind Havest’s words, Rose’s drooping lips showed genuine remorse: “Damn it, why did I remind Him?”
Wouldn’t it have been better to let Plage mess things up, or continue bullying the timid Helf?
Her Majesty has always been the most soft-hearted and gentle being.
She thought gloomily: Though Her Majesty appeared solemn and stern earlier—enough to make their hearts flutter—who knew if she might generously forgive those annoying fools in a few days?
By then, the divine temple would return to its former crowded state—”Ah, and the Divine Empress too!”
Realizing what a foolish thing she’d done by actually using precious divine power to bestow a blessing upon her greatest rival, the clusters of vibrant roses blooming on Rose’s dress withered along with her despondent mood.
What she didn’t notice was that the Goddess of Harvest—who had also only recently realized she’d offered advice to that naive newborn deity, indirectly facilitating everything—had her smile fade slightly as well.
The immortal deities who received lighter reprimands and remained in the divine realm each harbored their own thoughts, while those like Plage who left in furious haste urgently began the work they’d neglected for years.
As for the people unaware of the distant events in the divine realm—knowing neither about the god-king’s return nor the deities’ awakening—they soon received boons that left them dazzled.
The God of Plague, Plage, first arrived at the Royal City ravaged by the terrible epidemic.
Beneath the broad black cloak were pale, emaciated hands—any life touched by the hem of his garment, woven from plague divine power, would instantly contract diseases and wither away.
Yet as He descended upon this human city, His steps were uncharacteristically cautious—meticulously controlling every strand of divine power with precision to ensure not even a single innocent blade of grass was harmed. Only under such careful restraint did He slowly part His robe, like opening a hidden vortex, drawing all the plague energy permeating the city into His empty cloak.
Of course, people couldn’t witness the spectacular sight of the murky plague power being collected by the deity.
But the patients clinging to life in the city, and those gripped by the omnipresent aura of death, felt an indescribable lightness deep within their bodies.
It was profoundly comforting.
They watched in disbelief as the terrible black sores—which they’d been covering up like the proverbial thief covering his ears—on the bedridden patients rapidly faded and healed at visible speed.
Through tear-blurred eyes, watching her husband—who had been lying feverish and lifeless for days—quickly regain his rosy complexion with breathing growing steady and strong… the wife who’d been suppressing her sobs knelt by the bedside, her heart overflowing with irrepressible joy.
Of course, not everyone in this Royal City was ecstatic.
Under the care of that fleeting yet incredibly beautiful and compassionate God, the violent King finally met his end, leaving many wicked nobles trembling with fear.
Those nobles who were best informed and had once actively contributed to the indirect exile of Duke Oliver to the cursed Laina city were undoubtedly the most terrified.
Even without witnessing the divine miracles excitedly praised by the commoners, the mere sight of the King—who had left the palace in high spirits but returned as a stiff corpse—was enough to shock these pampered aristocrats.
Many acted decisively, hastily gathering a few valuables and fleeing to the neighboring country of Neighboryn before the enigmatic and powerful Duke Oliver, who had effortlessly slain the King, could seek revenge.
However, the moment their carriages passed through the northern city gate, their lives were silently reaped by the sharp sickle of the God of Death.
“Filthy scum.”
Similarly cloaked in a long black robe, the God of Death Deyth spoke coldly as his divine power coalesced into a dense black mist, swiftly enveloping those panicked souls.
Having realized the magnitude of his mistake, the God of Death—though unpunished and too ashamed to appear before His Majesty in the short term—was determined to atone through meritorious service.
Frowning slightly, he directly allowed the black mist to devour these detestable souls who had dared to offend His Majesty’s incarnation and, more recently, caused the deaths of many commoners, drastically increasing his workload.
After a series of silent screams, the black mist gradually dissipated, and the souls—which hadn’t even managed to stray far from their lifeless bodies—were completely annihilated by the God of Death.
The noble horses that had been pulling the heavy carriage laden with jewels nervously pawed the ground—even without seeing, their innate fear of death was palpable.
But soon, the terrifying presence that had made them whinny in fear vanished completely from the vicinity. Along with it disappeared the thick ropes that had tightly bound their necks.
Plage and Deyth were undoubtedly the busiest, while other deities didn’t forget to add their own contributions.
Thus, over the next half-month, the capital’s people experienced a dreamlike transformation.
First, to the survivors’ initial disbelief and swift realization, the dreaded plague—once a topic of fearful whispers—vanished without a trace like a fading nightmare after the appearance of that dazzlingly beautiful deity.
Had it not left behind the profound pain of its deadly shadow, its sudden departure would have seemed as if it had never existed at all.
People remained cautious, like small animals emerging warily from a catastrophic disaster, timidly peeking out bit by bit.
They soon discovered that not only were the patients who had been awaiting death in despair miraculously healed without medicine, but the rivers—fouled by too many hastily discarded corpses—had also cleared. Even standing on the long-unvisited streets, they felt the sun above was exceptionally bright and the sunlight on their skin unusually warm.
It was unbelievable.
Next, the withered flowers and trees from recent times, along with the overgrown wheat fields left untended, suddenly burst forth with vibrant vitality as if blessed by the deities themselves.
The God of Plants, God of Wind, and God of Music joined forces, using willow branches as strings and gentle breezes as skilled fingers, performing the score meticulously composed to please His Majesty the God-King.
It was a melodious tune that made one unconsciously pause to listen, as if possessing the power to soothe the pain of lost loved ones; it was an enchanting melody that brought solace to the people rebuilding the city under the guidance of Grand High Priest Abino. The divine music prompted spontaneous humming, replacing frantic weeping with serene commemoration of the departed.
The deities, laboring with utmost effort, clearly hoped their performance would soften the King’s heart and grant them permission to re-enter the pure white divine temple to worship the God-King who captivated all gods.
Indeed, their efforts were not in vain—the God-King, deliberately concealing his form with divine power, observed every aspect of the Royal City’s remarkable transformation.
Beside Him stood a deity with adorable fluffy cat ears and brilliant golden hair similar to His own. After watching for a while, the cat-eared god tilted his head closer to the breathtakingly beautiful God-King.
Though fully aware that the God-King’s mastery of supreme cosmic laws allowed Him to transmit His voice to any being—and vice versa—the cat-eared god naturally assumed this intimate posture to address the solemn-faced ruler: “Ollie, I also want to do something for them.”
This certainly wasn’t because the God of Wealth particularly valued the Royal City’s inhabitants. Rather… watching other deities actively courting his beloved partner’s favor made his heart grow restless with urgency.
“What would you do?” The God-King withdrew His gaze from the busy deities and looked toward the bright-eyed Cat God, smiling patiently as He explained: “The Royal City’s people suffered devastating casualties from an unforeseen catastrophe exacerbated by Cameron’s manipulations. I’ve only reinstated the gods’ duties to help them recover swiftly and resume normal lives.”
It was precisely because beings like Cameron chose to disregard the rules that He ultimately decided to shatter the established order completely. Before reclaiming His throne, He had restrained the Cat God’s constant urge to “eliminate Cameron” precisely to minimize the impact of this upheaval on ordinary citizens.
This meant Cameron’s greatest bargaining chip before Him had been the entire population of the Royal City. When Cameron wantonly trampled on his subjects’ lives and refused to “play by the rules,” he couldn’t complain when the God-King overturned the game table to settle matters by sheer force.
As the deities diligently worked, the God of Wealth watched obediently for a while before growing anxious again: “Ollie. Really not allowed?”
“Not allowed. What they need most is a chance to start anew.” The God-King gently touched the twitching airplane ears, smiling: “Not the currency you govern.”
The Cat-eared God remained quiet for a moment before stating earnestly: “But I’m the only one without any tasks.”
“How so?” The God-King chuckled: “You’ve already done plenty beyond your duties… Now it’s their turn. As for you, staying here with me is enough.”
— The God of Wealth, having claimed his favorite task, could finally rest at ease.
