The God of Pain—true to his name—absorbs the suffering of his believers and transforms it into his own power.
His followers regard hardship as a remedy for life's challenges. As long as they remain conscious amid relentless suffering, they resist temptation. For this reason, he is also known as the protector of ascetics.
However, only a small group of people on any given planet actually enjoy suffering. As a result, the God of Pain had been stuck at the intermediate level of divine power for many years, making no real progress.
Just now, he suddenly trembled. A surge of unknown pain energy flowed through the thorn crown atop his head and into his body. Instinctively, he processed the power, then rose from his throne in surprise.
This batch of pain contained something he had rarely encountered: a small glimmer of hope.
To him, there were levels of suffering.
The lowest level was meaningless physical or social pain—injury, embarrassment, illness. Absorbing such low-grade pain provided little benefit. In fact, it often hindered his development, wearing down his divinity.
Higher-level suffering came from the spiritual or existential plane. Philosophers might agonize over the meaning of life itself; in these moments, the pain held value, deepening his affinity and enhancing his divine growth.
Low-level pain could occasionally evolve into higher-level pain—for example, when illness prompted reflection—but such occurrences were rare. Most people prayed to be healed and then quickly forgot their suffering.
Absorbing low-quality pain was exhausting for the God of Pain. Only by absorbing high-quality pain could he break through from intermediate to powerful divine status—and that was precisely what he was experiencing now.
Pain intertwined with hope. Pain was not mere torture—it was the beginning of hope. Yet this premium pain was incredibly rare; only a handful were generated across the universe each year.
And now, unexpectedly, he had absorbed it.
It was like a diligent office worker, penny-pinching every day, suddenly stumbling upon five hundred yuan lying on the street. Not much, but entirely free.
"Wow—a pie just fell from the sky! Smells amazing!" the God of Pain exclaimed, rushing to the edge of his divine kingdom to trace the source of this powerful energy.
To his surprise, the energy did not emanate from a single planet but from multiple worlds.
With a thought, he directed his authority toward a believer experiencing this pain. Concealing himself, he assumed anyone capable of producing such high-quality pain must be a devout follower.
Instead, the figure before him bore a badge reading "God of the Furnace." Judging by the ironworks hanging throughout the house, he was a blacksmith.
"A blacksmith? How could he generate such pure, powerful pain?" The God of Pain was stunned. He had never encountered this before.
He peered into the blacksmith's soul, but the Forum Protection Act concealed the surroundings. Based on the man's clenched teeth and occasional rolls, he was clearly fighting—but could such high-quality pain be generated during combat?
The God of Pain was perplexed. Suddenly, the blacksmith's soul was jolted upward, and in the real world, he shouted:
"No!!! Just one more strike! Just one more strike, and the first stage is complete!"
His face red, drenched in sweat, he muttered nonsensical phrases: "Don't be greedy with your knife… Cut once, roll twice." Then he returned to the forum.
Strands of pure pain energy slowly emerged from his body, flowing into the God of Pain. Sensing the purity, the deity gasped—this was the perfect pain he had always sought.
Just as he prepared to observe further, the void cracked open. A familiar, unwelcome aura appeared: the God of Hope.
"Hey, isn't this His Majesty Pain? What a coincidence!" The God of Hope stopped across from him, pinching his nose as if smelling something foul.
The God of Pain shuddered in equal discomfort, as though he had just woken from a sticky, suffocating summer nap.
Originally, "Pain" and "Hope" had been one—two halves of the God of Ember's authority. During the previous war of the gods, the God of Ember had perished. The evil half became Pain, the good half Hope.
Had the God of Pain devoured Hope directly, he could have inherited the full authority of the God of Ember. But now, he had to cultivate it piece by piece, drawing the rare fusion of pain and hope each time it manifested.
It was a cosmic cycle: as players honed their skills against Gundyr, repeatedly dying and respawning, they questioned themselves: Will we win this time?
Yes… And yet, as hope surged, Gundyr struck again. Pain became hope, hope became pain. This cycle produced the very energy both deities craved.
Despite the peace treaty between good and evil gods, old grudges lingered. Pain and Hope remained irreconcilable enemies.
"Hmph!" The God of Pain growled, no longer tolerating the God of Hope's smugness. He opened a portal. Now that he had located the source of this supreme pain, he didn't want to share space with anyone.
Returning to his divine realm, he retrieved the latest New God Ranking. Seeing that the Lord of Pleasure still held 101st place, he paused to ponder.
Though the Lord of Pleasure had not created this game to generate perfect pain intentionally, he had unwittingly provided an invaluable resource.
Top 100 status was a watershed in the New God Ranking, yet the Lord of Pleasure remained 500 faith points away.
No amount of superficial praise could match the value of help provided at the right moment.
The God of Pain's bony fingers drummed on the armrest. He could imagine the God of Hope contemplating the same thing.
Since splitting from the Godhood of Ember, these two had been destined to compete, even in currying favor with other gods.
With that thought, he activated the Lord of Pleasure's reward panel—and clicked the recharge interface.