I Became the 3rd Imperial Prince NPC
Ten minutes later, I was muttering to myself inside:
'Right, I am Aeolem. The God of Vengeance, Aeolem. The god of pettiness, of nuisances, of no-manners—Hypo-lem, the god of ruining everyone's day…'
I was method-acting, doing my best to impersonate the incarnation of a god.
At first, I worried whether I could possibly fake divine authority using this fat slob's body.
"You say you're Aeolem's vessel?"
"You dare point your finger at the body I've descended into? Are you insane?"
"Well, it's just that—"
"Silence! Shall I cut off your fingers one by one until you learn your place?"
"…"
"Or perhaps something else should be cut off instead? Hm? Drop your pants now! I'll personally change your gender!"
…Was that line a bit weird?
Eh, whatever.
Aeolem's personality was just as reckless and bombastic as mine anyway.
What worried me more was whether my voice carried enough majesty.
"You scum! How dare you defy meeeeee!"
Surprisingly, perhaps because he was royal blood, Gilroshan's voice came out deep and weighty.
'Feels like someone's helping me from behind the scenes.'
Thanks to that, the assassins—who had already once swung at my neck—hesitated, exchanging wary glances.
Having pulled off my bluff, I let out a sigh of relief inside.
'Good thing it's Aeolem. If it were Imere, the Goddess of Compassion—who's famous for never descending—this would've gone south fast.'
According to the lore, the world of T.W.A.G. (The World Abandoned by God) had twelve gods.
And most of them were shameless meddlers, constantly poking into mortal affairs.
That's why this world was full of constant incidents, both big and small, and NPCs treated gods almost casually.
'Basically, it's a world where worshippers and enemies, lovers and rivals of the gods all live tangled together.'
Not exactly fitting for a game called The World Abandoned by God.
If anything, the proper title should've been The World Constantly Wrecked by Gods.
But the title had its reasons—revealed only at the very end of the story.
Anyway, of the twelve gods, Aeolem was especially fond of meddling in mortal affairs.
As the god of vengeance, he loved diving into wars, feuds, disputes, and conflicts.
He also frequently showed himself to his followers.
That made my bluffing much easier.
"For now, I understand, Lord Aeolem. But would it not be wise to grant a shred of faith to your unworthy followers…?"
"Faith? These fools? They want faith?"
"…"
"Fine then! I'll grant you faith, damn it!"
Spouting nonsense in Aeolem's style was almost too easy.
"That golden idol you offered me last week—don't think I didn't notice it was gold-plated and not solid!"
"…Pardon?"
"And the Kishiris sect keeps stealing away my believers. What are you doing about it?"
"We—we're doing our utmost—"
"Does 'utmost' fix anything? Does it? When my tithes don't come through, which one of you plans to take utmost responsibility? Hm?"
"Tithes… you mean?"
"Salt! You fools! Salt of the earth! Gold like the sun! Faith and devotion, that's what I mean!"
"…Untie him."
And just like that, by spewing Aeolem-style nonsense, I got them to release my bonds.
Of course, not everyone was so easily fooled.
Especially the old man whose name I had shouted earlier.
[Character] High Priest of Aeolem's Great Church. A cold-blooded old man who leads the Order of Vengeance. In the Revolutionary Army, he serves as an assassin, orchestrating the "3rd Prince Assassination Incident."
"My apologies for not recognizing you, Lord Aeolem."
He bowed politely enough, but his gaze still carried sharp suspicion.
That cold, penetrating look only an old man could give.
—Let's watch for now.
That was the feeling I got from it.
'Sharp old bastard, as expected.'
It was only natural.
Even if Aeolem frequently descended, this was way too sudden a circumstance. Believing blindly would've been stranger.
But I emphasized my "divine powers" with all the lore I knew about Aeolem.
"Weren't you wasting divine power needlessly? My throat hurts, my back aches! Unforgivable—go kill yourselves, all of you!"
The earlier display of the Slave Gladiator's Fetters of Desire skill, which I repackaged as Aeolem's divine power, also worked in my favor.
"Please forgive us."
"Have mercy."
So the others, half-believing and half-unsure, were still being swept up by my pace.
Besides, it wasn't like anyone expected the useless wastrel Prince Gilroshan to have a plan.
The infamous reputation of the 3rd Prince was ironically helping me here.
Most importantly, the High Priest himself wasn't outright refuting my claim.
"I had been sorrowful that you hadn't given me a revelation for so long… To see you now is a blessing."
The old man even played along, treating me as a god.
So I pressed on confidently.
"That's because you were unfaithful! If your offerings had been worthy, I would've descended in my true form instead of borrowing this weak body! This is all your fault, you hear?"
"My apologies. But what brings you to descend so suddenly? Surely you must have a message? If you had something to declare, you could've delivered a revelation to the Archbishop."
He was probing sharply, a veteran's touch—definitely suspicious.
So I rambled.
"Do I need a reason every time I descend? Do I have to explain myself? Hey—you doubting me? Want me to pull your pants down? Hm?"
"…I was out of line. My apologies, Lord Aeolem."
Bamilo backed down immediately.
But his eyes still gleamed dangerously.
And I could guess what was going through his mind.
'Since my name was revealed, he's playing along for now to get to the bottom of this.'
Which was exactly what I wanted.
By shouting the name of Bamilo Dimark, the assassins' leader, I'd forced him to hold back.
Whether or not my bluff was true, the fact that his name had leaked was no small matter.
For that reason, Bamilo was nodding along with me for now.
But he wasn't the only problem.
There was another figure of concern.
The Player Character.
"…"
The hooded man still stood in silence, face hidden in shadow.
It was driving me crazy.
What was he thinking?
Who exactly was he?
'I can't tell at all. Even when I claimed to be a god, he didn't react.'
At any rate, I'd survived.
The killers who had threatened Gilroshan's fat neck were all priests of Aeolem—clergy who doubled as assassins.
'Priests of vengeance and assassins. What a lovely setting.'
Of course, they weren't an independent force.
They were part of the Revolutionary Army, an elite faction.
'A massive movement aiming to overthrow the Empire.'
In the original T.W.A.G. game, there were three great factions:
The Valtz Magic Empire.
The Revolutionary Army.
The Empire and the Revolutionaries clashed, while the Beast Tribes walked the tightrope between them.
In that tense balance, the 3rd Prince's assassination attempt had been a message from the Revolutionaries to the Empire:
—Release our comrades. If not, the royal bloodline will suffer.
This wasn't just terrorism.
It was a politically charged mission.
Though today had failed, they would surely try again.
'Which means the assassins will return.'
But I had no intention of offering up my neck.
I never wanted to feel a blade stuck in my body while alive again.
Still, I couldn't keep pretending forever to be a god's incarnation.
If I didn't want divine retribution from a petty god, the lie had to end eventually.
So I was left with one burning question:
How can this useless 3rd Prince survive?
'The Republican rebels need a reason to keep this fool alive.'
And there was another issue.
'I also need a way to keep this trash-tier character alive, after picking that bottom-rank card instead of the transcendence one.'
Two goals at once.
Saving both the disgraceful prince and the trash character!
Like a convenience store deal—buy one, get one free.
'Fantastic. Absolutely fantastic.'
If I weren't in the middle of bluffing as a god, I would've been shouting in joy.
"Score, baby! Clearance jackpot at the corner store—!"
"…What did you say?"
"Ah… merely, the connection with my true self faltered for a moment."
But truthfully, I already had a plan.
'Though I'm not sure if it's fitting for a prince…'
So what?
I just needed to survive.
Casting aside hesitation, I borrowed Aeolem's voice and declared:
"Hear my warning. The 3rd Prince is my chosen Apostle. Touch so much as a hair on his head and suffer my wrath."
"…?"
"Gilroshan will one day join the Revolutionaries! Understood?"
"…!"
The assassins' faces twisted in frustration.
Of course—they'd just lost the prize they'd worked so hard to capture.
In short, I had crowned Gilroshan with a new title: Apostle of Aeolem.
That way, hurting me would count as team-killing. A safe zone.
At least, that was the calculation.
But Bamilo Dimark…
The old man's eyes gleamed like a predator spotting prey.
"May we truly believe those words?"
A faint sneer tugged at his lips.
As if to say: You've started something you can't possibly finish.
Every hair on my body stood on end.
'So the old bastard wasn't just suspicious—he was certain.'
He had never believed me to be Aeolem's vessel. Not for a moment.
"Very well. Then we shall obey Aeolem's will. We will spare the 3rd Prince and return."
On the surface, his words sounded respectful, but every syllable was sharp as a blade.
"If this truly is the vessel of Aeolem, then your prophecy cannot be false. The day when the 3rd Prince becomes an Apostle and joins us is surely near. We will await it… eagerly."
His eyes glinted with a cruel hunger.
"A discarded wretch of the Empire's bloodline, joining the Revolutionaries…"
It was as if he wanted to dissect me on the spot, but would hold back for now.
…And fair enough.
I knew exactly why.
Once these priests returned to their base, the truth would come out quickly.
The Archbishop himself would confirm that no such Apostle had been chosen.
And then, of course, assassins would be dispatched again.
'Will you survive next time? Will the Empire even protect you?'
His confidence meant there were bigger players behind this attempt.
And I knew it too.
'There are those within the Imperial family itself who want Gilroshan dead.'
Without collusion from the inside, no prince of the blood would just be dragged out into a forest to be slaughtered like this.
Even if he was the black sheep.
"…"
That was how precarious Gilroshan's life was.
Even invoking a god's name only bought time—our neck remained on the edge of the blade.
But I grinned.
And shouted boldly:
"Of course! You should expect it! Would I ever lie?"
"…?"
"And if I did lie? If I were bluffing? What would you do, hm? Bite your own master? What pathetic, disloyal hounds!"
My overflowing confidence cracked Bamilo's expression at last.
He clearly had no idea what I was relying on.
But I had my next card ready.
I met his eyes head-on and declared:
"The 3rd Prince will not return to the Imperial Palace."
That caught him off guard.
"What do you mean, not return…?"
I smiled.
Crowns on crowns—that was my plan.
This next step.
"The 3rd Prince will go to Aurax. Since he will soon be an Apostle, he must prepare. Study doctrine! Carve my statues!"
"What madness—!"
"On the way there, you will protect him. Not a scratch on his body! Feed him, wine him! Understand?"
Bamilo's jaw fell open.
Aurax—the largest city in the West.
The very stronghold of the Revolutionaries.
To him, it must've sounded like I'd volunteered to walk into the tiger's den.
'Looks like I'm rushing to my own death, huh?'
But to me, Aurax was safer than the Imperial Palace.
The palace, ruled absolutely by the Emperor, left no room to move.
It was a gilded cage, a prison where enemies within were inescapable.
But outside? That was different.
'There are chances to grow.'
And I intended to seize them in Aurax.
To an Imperial prince, it was enemy territory.
But to a gamer like me? The exact opposite.
It was no less than Newbie Heaven.
That's why I aimed for Aurax.
Once word of today spread, even carrying a sign saying "I'm the 3rd Prince" would be safe—because they wouldn't dare touch me.
"Fifteen days from now."
I swept my gaze across the priests.
"There will be a calamity in Aurax. Countless citizens will die. This child will prevent it. Prepare yourselves."
"…!"
"…!"
This time, it wasn't a bluff.
It was prophecy.
How's that, you bastards?
Now you can't kill me.
You'll have no choice but to escort me safely to your base.