"Habika?"
Viktor stiffened. Memories from the game flickered to life in his mind.
Habika—one of the countless gods buried in the game's lore.
A deity who only ever appeared in background worldbuilding, mentioned briefly in collectible storybooks.
No one had ever seen his true form.
According to the game's records, every time Habika appeared, he brought either natural disasters or man-made catastrophes.
One appearance had supposedly wiped out half of humanity.
A dangerously malignant god—terrifying to the extreme.
"Of course, you can call me by my current name—Vega."
The crow calling itself Vega politely folded its wings over its chest and bowed.
Viktor couldn't read the creature at all, so he didn't respond.
Seeing Viktor remain silent, Vega fluttered its wings and straightened its posture.
"Interesting. Looks like you've heard of me."
Viktor said flatly, "Never met you."
He knew perfectly well being entangled with a god was never good news. Every player agreed on that.
Especially a chaotic evil deity who existed only in the background lore—nothing about that felt safe.
But why was a god who never showed up in the actual storyline appearing early to find Viktor?
Vega opened its beak. Its hoarse, crow-like voice beat him to the punch.
"You are not Viktor. Your soul isn't filthy enough."
Its single eye locked onto him, trying to detect a flicker of panic—only to be disappointed by Viktor's usual deadpan.
"Gods can see through souls," it said.
"But no matter. I came for you."
Vega gave its feathers a shake. A long, black quill drifted onto the table and morphed into a sheet of black paper. Twisted white lines snaked over its surface, forming demonic contract-like text.
Viktor felt a headache coming on.
He had just arrived in this world and hadn't done a thing—yet somehow he'd already received two contracts in one day.
I'm a booster-for-hire, not some corporate mule…
He took the paper, skimming it as he snorted, "Aren't you a god? Down on your luck?"
He never imagined a god would come looking for clients.
The contract stated that if he signed, he'd be responsible for feeding and housing this crow… and even helping him build a church and develop a following for this wicked deity.
The more believers, the stronger Vega's power would grow.
That was it. Nothing else.
Viktor: "…"
Even an exploitative contract wouldn't dare be this shameless. Feed you, shelter you, find believers for you—and you get all the benefits while I get nothing?
He stared wordlessly at the crow. It was grooming itself with elegance, like some noble bird.
If you ignored the single eye.
"Most of my power is sealed. I need someone's protection. If you take this deal, you'll gain a god's friendship."
"A good bargain," Vega croaked while continuing to preen.
Viktor couldn't even roll his eyes. A god's friendship? What the hell was he supposed to do with that?
The crow shot him a look with that lone eye, as if reading his thoughts. "It'll save your life."
"Deal."
Viktor signed his name with a flourish.
He wasn't too worried about being cheated. Gods always honored their contracts—even wicked ones.
As soon as he signed, a subtle connection formed between them.
It felt like he could track the crow's location with a thought.
The crow hopped onto his shoulder and resumed grooming.
Liya had been right—keeping a crow as a pet really wasn't classy.
But he was new here, and the contract was done. He'd just treat it as a tasteless pet.
All he had to do was feed and house it.
As for the church—he'd build one with money later.
He turned to the other contract beside him, also waiting for his signature.
This one was from the Advanced Magic Academy, sincerely inviting the protagonist to join as a teacher with a professor's title.
Only then did he remember: Viktor might be a villain, but he was also a magical prodigy.
Countless elderly mages were still stuck at Tier 2, while Viktor had reached Tier 3 at the age of twenty.
Translated into game terms…
Viktor silently muttered in his mind, and a familiar game interface popped up.
[Name: Viktor Clavenna]
LV: 39
HP: 1000/1000
MP: 4900/4900
A classic glass-cannon mage.
This confirmed it—he had truly crossed into the game world.
Tier 3 mages corresponded to levels 30–39. Beyond that, tiers climbed accordingly.
But in the story's lore, Viktor had stagnated for nine years and lost his reputation as a genius.
Now he knew why—he'd been hiding his strength.
His EXP bar was ridiculously full. He could've broken through to Tier 4—Human Saint Mage—long ago.
But Viktor had never done it; he'd been plotting something bigger.
Bad personality or not, the talent was real.
This contract—he had to sign.
Not only because his sister and fiancée had fought to secure it…
With a professor's title came the Academy's protection. The Duke wouldn't be able to bother him easily.
At least publicly, he needed a credible excuse.
His underage daughter getting confessed to by a scumbag? That was flimsy.
People like beauty—was the girl supposed to never marry in her life?
Viktor signed the contract and told a servant to deliver it to the Academy. Then he rose and walked toward the mansion's back courtyard.
Vega finally stopped grooming and asked where he was going.
Without looking back, Viktor answered, "I'm teaching tomorrow. Need to practice so I'm not rusty."
"Take me with you."
Vega hopped along on his shoulder, chattering nonstop.
They soon reached the training grounds, where massive stone targets towered in rows.
Viktor lifted his gaze, surprised.
In the game, players' estates also had these magic stone monoliths to grind skill proficiency.
They displayed damage numbers, letting you gauge your skill mastery and attribute training.
Seeing them here in Viktor's backyard stirred unexpected nostalgia.
Vega saw him pause and thought he was intimidated by the size of the targets after going so long without training.
So it began chattering like a real crow.
"Magic requires technique, you know… how to conserve mana… how to increase impact…"
It shook its newly groomed feathers. "If I still had my power, I'd show you some real high-tier spells."
Viktor let it rant while he checked his skill list—and felt very satisfied.
Every spell Viktor could use, he'd already mastered.
As the final boss of the game's second chapter, Kingdom Chaos, he was a challenge every player had to defeat.
As a booster-for-hire, Viktor had memorized all of his boss skills down to the last frame.
A boss just had to lift a hand and he'd know exactly what spell was coming.
Vega continued nagging: "Magic has so many points of attention! Formation drawing, chant speed—"
Before it could finish, Viktor raised a hand—boom—a lance of black lightning shot out.
[Tier 1 Spell: Black Thunder Spear]
Viktor's expression didn't change at all, like spellcasting was no more complicated than breathing.
Then he unleashed Tier 2 and Tier 3 skills one after another—fireworks exploding across the monoliths, scorching and cracking stone.
The entire backyard lit up like a festival.
Vega fell silent on his shoulder.
Seeing his MP nearly bottomed out, Viktor clicked his tongue.
Boss bodies were weak. Just a few spells and he was dry.
Players with gear had MP pools in the tens of thousands—no need to conserve anything.
"You don't draw formations to cast?"
Viktor ignored him.
Among players, mages were called "spell machine guns."
Because spell formations were automated by the system. All you had to do was hit a hotkey, wait a short cast time, and—boom—instant release.
And as someone who had played every class under the sun, Viktor had mastered them all.
Cast a spell? That was child's play.
Satisfied with his timing, Viktor prepared to leave.
Vega suddenly spoke up, "Don't go yet! Your casting method interests me. Do a bit more?"
Viktor didn't even consider it.
What is this, fireworks night? I'm not your entertainer.
Just as the thought formed, Vega's single eye flashed bright blue, wrapping Viktor in its glow.
He felt a thread linking his body to the crow.
Viktor reopened his status panel.
MP: 995099 / 999999
He slowly lowered his gaze to Vega.
I'm reporting him. This crow is hacking.