People usually picture saints and saintesses as glamorous figures.
At least in the novels these days, they live in grand, ornate temples.
Sure, they might face poor treatment and dirty looks... but at least that.
"What kind of saint plows fields himself!"
They don't actually plow the fields themselves.
Crunch!
I stomped on the pest lunging at me.
It wasn't scorching hot, but under the blazing sun, killing bugs while tilling left sweat dripping down my face.
Even in this grueling scene, a plain straw-hatted scarecrow swayed lazily.
[Which saint would? Oh wait, the one here is doing it.]
It looked ordinary, but that was a divine relic infused with a god's will.
The straw hat was her idea of matching the vibe—her personal fashion statement.
Though it was still just a scarecrow.
I wiped the sweat from my eyes with the back of my hand and stared blankly at the sky.
The only spot not shaded by trees, the sun blazed down with fierce intensity.
'Fucking hell.'
And the field was only half done.
This is gonna take forever!
I scowled.
"Ugh... Can't you bless this away or something?"
[Why ask the obvious? I'm not the forest god—I'm the god of war.]
"Then why am I out here plowing?"
[Why do you think? To eat.]
In novels or history, grand temples were usually in the capitals of empires or holy kingdoms.
But reality was different. The grand temple of my war god was pathetically rundown—hardly deserving the name.
Deep in a dense forest, so remote no one could find it even if they tried.
So despite being a saint, I couldn't enjoy city perks and ended up tilling fields myself.
[Keep dawdling and dinner's getting cold.]
Arcana teased me.
I ground my teeth, hefted the hoe, and slammed it down.
Crunch!
"Ow!"
Crunch!
"Me too!"
Crunch!
"I wanna coast too!"
Just exploit me like a tool!
What if the temple was in the capital? Even if they called me incompetent and ignored me, I'd flip them off and party hard.
Who'd have thought a kid who died from school bullying would reincarnate as a war god's saint in another world?
At first, it seemed decent—no, a total jackpot.
No followers meant no annoying saint duties.
But soon I realized it was a raw deal.
A saint serving a god with no followers is a beggar. Meaning, labor to survive.
The scarecrow swayed leisurely at my outburst.
[Just coast. Easy fix.]
"Then move the temple."
[No money.]
"You're the war god? How's a god broke?"
[No wars now. Peaceful era—no cash flow.]
Not wrong, but debatable.
"Gather followers then. You're kinda famous, right?"
[You're the only one I want. Taking care of just you is overwhelming.]
Not wrong, and it felt nice she'd prioritize me, but still unsatisfying.
This was rock-bottom.
I pouted and slammed the hoe down.
After ages of tilling, I snapped, hurling the hoe away.
"Arrrgh! I wanna coast toooo!"
[Hey now. You're 17—act your age.]
Adding my past life, over 30, but people don't mature with age. One reincarnation meant I was 17.
Mental age too, probably.
"Ugh, so tiring... I wanna... coast..."
I stretched my aching body and gazed vacantly at the sky.
The scarecrow spoke softly.
[You're too frail. Just 10 hours of labor and you're wrecked?]
"Just...?"
[Better than swinging a sword 10 hours in battle, right?]
Not wrong... but who swings swords 10 hours in this era?
"Anyway, done now. Heading in to rest."
[Sprinkle divine power first.]
Oh, almost forgot.
I gathered divine power in my hand before leaving, scattering it like fertilizer.
"Grow fast and be my dinner soon."
Sprinkle.
Sprouts were already peeking thanks to the infused divine power.
Divine power bends nature's laws a bit, being god-given.
'Forest god would've sprouted the whole field...'
War god's power—good enough.
I approached the scarecrow still swaying in the field center.
[Going inside?]
"Yeah."
[Take the straw hat. Losing it means remaking or retrieving.]
Remake that?
It was a plain, shabby hat—barely a straw hat.
But precious. I wove it stitch by stitch with no clue what I was doing!
Lose it and...
'Redo the labor?'
I shuddered in horror.
* * *
"Ugh, wiped out."
I hung the cherished hat on the wall hook and shed my priest robes.
Don't ask why wear them in the heat.
Priest robes are my romance.
Wear 'em no matter what!
[Hungry yet?]
The central statue's eyes fluttered open. She'd shifted her consciousness from the scarecrow.
Last time she meditated outside, bugs and birds swarmed—so no more unless I was out.
Arcana continued in her drowsy tone.
[Dinner time. Let's eat.]
"Anything left from yesterday...?"
I checked the preserved food.
Sadly, midnight snacks wiped it out.
'Gotta hunt a bird...'
Crank the AC, flop on the couch, order delivery—dream on.
No contact to the capital, no delivery here.
[Catch something quick. I'll wait.]
I chuckled dryly at the statue dragging over the table.
Normally statue-still for grandeur, but food? Divine power to the rescue.
Absurd.
I sighed deeply and headed out. Perfect timing—a bird flew overhead.
Caw, caw.
A crow mimicking a seagull.
"Hey! Quit that! Why crow body, seagull call?!"
Mocking me, it shat mid-flight and vanished into shadows. I flicked the shit with divine power, shaping it into a whip.
Crack!
Crawk?! The whip snagged the fleeing crow.
"Thanks for the meal."
Craaawrk!
It thrashed, but I wasn't dropping dinner.
Meat tonight! Grinning, I turned to enter—then a crash.
Thud crash!
Something toppled.
Turning, a head poked from bushes.
'...I caught a crow, not a person?'
And why a person here?
Half-wary, half-curious, I approached. Nudged the head with my foot—it twitched.
"Hey. Mister."
What.
Dead?
No, alive? Kept calling, no response. Buried the bird temporarily, hoisted him by arms.
"Heave-ho."
His eyes snapped open, head jerking up.
Mom! Scared me!
Thwack!
Instinct kicked—knee to face. Nose exploded, eyes rolled back, out cold.
"Oops."
Shouldn't have KO'd him.
Now what? Awkward pose, pondering—Arcana called.
[Drag him in as-is.]
"'Him' like luggage?"
[...Just bring him. Wouldn't have happened if you didn't knock him out.]
"Hitting with facts—dirty."
Grumbling, dragged him inside, dropped before statue.
Statue blinked.
[Why bring to me?]
"?"
[Heal first. On hard floor?]
"Not my bed though..."
Not that saintly, hated bed invaders.
Not dying anyway.
Plop.
Sat cross-legged on his head. Clasped hands over it.
"Hmm."
Divine power condensed in palms, seeped into him slowly.
Nosebleed slowed. Healing just started, but tiring already.
"Ugh, rough..."
[Tiring too fast?]
War god priest—weak at healing.
Only one believer anyway.
Predecessor died when I was 2. No training, no power spikes.
"No one's taught me."
[You just do it.]
"'Cause you're a god."
Brute-forced more power—improved slowly.
Studied his face while healing.
Definitely human. Eyes, nose, mouth, breathing fine. Exotic features, but human.
'First person in years.'
Pondering—he stirred, pinched nose.
"Ugh... why my nose..."
Winced at "nose," but kept cool.
"Awake?"
"Wh-who are you?"
"Found you passed out in bushes, brought you in. Not sure who attacked, but treated your nosebleed."
[Shameless.]
Innocent here.
He couldn't pierce my poker face, stood, bowed repeatedly.
"Thank you, truly. You saved my life, priest."
"Just a priest's duty."
Good guy. If ungrateful, would've KO'd and dumped him.
[Lucky. Bear snack otherwise.]
'Self-inflicted.'
Polite though. More bows, pulled something from pocket.
"Late intro. This is me."
Business card?
Sky Academy
Magic Professor
Nipella Aoman
"Academy professor?"
"Yes. As it says, I work at the continent's top academy, Sky Academy."
Pride swelled in his voice.
'...What's Sky Academy?'
[Academy name, probably.]
'Famous?'
[Likely?]
'Rich?'
[...Sure?]
Rich, huh.
I erased my greedy grin, nodded.
"Impressive work."
"I'll never forget this grace. If no offense, your name?"
Nice guy, but no name-sharing.
No plans to leave here—why connect?
'Even if rich...'
Complained, but didn't hate this life.
For someone with harsh past life, this peaceful—boring even—routine felt good.
Farming annoying... but farm life with god like a mom? Not bad.
Whining all day notwithstanding!
Circumlocuted refusal.
"If fated, we'll meet again. Then I'll tell you."
"God's will, then."
Regretful, he pulled a leather pouch, pressed it like refusal unacceptable.
"My personal thanks. Please."
"No need, really..."
Hid twitching lips, took it. Shook—
Clink, clink.
Sweet sound.
First money since reincarnating.
[Gold coins? Generous guy.]
'Valuable?'
[Duh. Obviously.]
Roughly 100k KRW each? 500k total. Decent for saving a life, sight unseen.
'Handy later.'
Gave him healing herbs and holy water.
More bows, thanks, rushed off whence he came.
Temple quiet again. Human warmth's absence felt odd.
"Hm..."
Fiddled with card. Statue creaked, peeked over shoulder.
[Lemme see.]
Extended it. Statue blinked at card.
[Intriguing. Fate?]
"Fate?"
[You're 17—school age. Professor shows at perfect timing? Destiny.]
"Kinda..."
Stroked smooth chin.
"Academy, huh..."
[Like your past life's university. For high schoolers?]
"Ugh, what?"
High school + uni? Hybrid monster?
"School" killed my interest.
No good school memories.
Timid me, bullied viciously by jerks exploiting it.
Shoved card in pocket.
"Irrelevant to me. Not going."
[Really?]
"Hmph. Think I would?"
Snorted.
"Reincarnated and back to school? Hell no. I'll farm till I die here."
[Really?]
"Yeah. Won't go even dead. Leisurely croak in this temple."
Arcana chuckled suspiciously.
[Even with an oracle?]
"...Oracle's different."
Oracle: divine decree from the supreme god above mine. Must obey, whining or not.
As her priest.
Hesitant face—her laugh grew.
Ignored, headed out.
"Ah."
Dinner escaped.