Chapter 1: The Clumsy God in the Pub
"My God! What are those foolish followers of mine thinking?"
Moriarty stormed into the pub, cursing under his breath. He needed a drink, and he needed it now.
The pub was full of laughter and music as the patrons enjoyed their evening. They had no idea that one of the new gods was entering the establishment and that he was in a foul mood. He didn't care about them or their happiness. He only cared about drowning his sorrows.
*Bang*
He kicked the door open with his foot, hoping to make a dramatic entrance. But the door had a mind of its own. It bounced back and hit his foot, trapping it in the gap.
[A/N: Cowboy Door]
"Ouch! Damn you, you stupid door. Let me go!" He shouted, as he struggled to free his foot. He looked like a fool, hopping on one leg and waving his other leg in the air.
He finally managed to yank his foot out of the door and limped towards the bar. He smiled triumphantly and raised his fist in the air. "Take that!" He momentarily forgot his anger and felt proud of himself.
The people in the pub watched him with curiosity and awe. They recognized him as one of the new gods who had risen to fame recently. They were both fascinated and frightened by him.
As soon as Moriarty settled down at the bar, the people resumed their conversations as if nothing happened.
But some of them were whispering about him in the nearby tables.
"Is that one of the new gods?" a man asked his friend in a hushed voice.
"Shh! Be quiet, you don't want to offend him. I heard they're very sensitive these days." his friend cautioned him.
"But he looks so ordinary." a woman chimed in.
"That's because he's hiding his true power. Don't be fooled by his looks. See that faint shimmer on his head? That's his divine aura," the friend explained.
"Pfft, I can do that too, with some fairy lights." another man boasted.
"Really? Why don't you prove it? Go and talk to him, see what happens." the friend dared him.
Moriarty was about to order a beer when the bartender slid him a whiskey across the bar.
"This one's on the house, Your Grace. Please accept it. I heard you helped the orphanage get back on its feet. I was an orphan myself, so I'm very grateful to you. Please take this as a sign of my appreciation." The bartender said with a sincere smile and a bow.
Moriarty's expression darkened, as he remembered what his followers had done in his name. They had fixed the orphanages, but they had also caused chaos and destruction in the city.
His expression turned even darker when the bartender gave him the whiskey that he swore to never drink again after a terrible incident.
He drank it anyway, making the bartender happy and leave him alone. Moriarty winced as the liquid burned his throat.
'Sour! Why is this whiskey so sour?' He thought to himself. He felt a fire in his stomach and a pounding in his head.
The whiskey hit him like a ton of bricks within seconds, making him dizzy and nauseous. He had a low tolerance for alcohol, and he regretted drinking it.
He took a coin from his pocket and tossed it on the countertop.
'This is where it all started. This cursed coin.' He thought bitterly.
The coin was the symbol of his godhood, and it also determined his duties.
As soon as the coin landed on the bar, everyone in the pub stopped what they were doing and talking about. One person even froze in his tracks toward him. They were all drawn to the coin, as if by a magnet.
The coin glowed with a faint gold light, barely visible to the human eye. But it gave off a feeling that was hard to describe. It was not evil, but not holy either. It was something that had power over life and death.
*Gulp*
Someone swallowed nervously. Moriarty looked at him.
The man quickly looked away, avoiding the god's piercing gaze. He knew better than to stare at a divine being who had revealed himself. He was afraid of angering him or triggering his wrath.
'Damn, did I scare them? They won't try to attack me after I finish my drink, will they?' Moriarty wondered as he checked the number on the coin, "89"
'I'm climbing up the god's ranking.' He muttered to himself, concealing his emotions.
'Why me? Why did I have to find this? I was so happy when I picked up this coin. I'm such a fool.' He cursed his fate.
Moriarty was a farmer, or rather, he had been many things before that. A gardener, a dishwasher, a sanitation worker, a janitor, a mason tender, a carriage driver, and many other jobs that he quit after a few days.
He was about to settle down to a decent work that didn't involve serving others. A farmland that he inherited from his father, that he tried to avoid.
Until he found the coin on the farmland. Making him the 100th rank god at that time.
Now he was stuck with this coin that gave him power and responsibility he never asked for.
He had to deal with other gods who were either allies or enemies.
He had to manage his followers who were either faithful or treacherous.
He had to face the consequences of his actions that were either beneficial or harmful.
He longed for his simple life as a nobody. But he knew that it was impossible to go back to that. He had become a god, whether he wanted it or not.
Moriarty sighed as he looked at the number on the coin again: "89". It meant that he had overtaken 11 other gods since he got the coin. It also meant that there were 88 other gods who were more powerful and more influential than him.
Moriarty wondered what would happen if he ever reached the top rank of the gods. Would he be satisfied and happy? Or would he be isolated and miserable? He had no idea, and he had no desire to find out.
He decided to stop playing with the coin and put it back in his pocket. He finished his whiskey and stood up from the bar. He nodded to the bartender for the drink with a smile.
He left the pub, muttering, 'I'll start by getting rid of those followers of mine. I will take back my peaceful life. Time for revenge.'
Everyone felt relieved as he walked away, making the door slam behind him.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone