The Gods’ Gacha Game: Return of the God-King

Chapter 22: The Power of the Legendary Class

I quickly hid behind the altar, observing the returning thralls. Unlike the ones I had fought earlier, these were in far better condition. Since they hadn’t consumed the poisoned water, they weren’t weakened like the others. Still, they did not have the slightest idea of what had happened here.

When they were closer, their eyes scanned the camp, and their postures stiffened as they took in the collapsed tents, scattered corpses, and the desecrated altar. Some paused, hesitating, while others extended their claws as realization sank in. Then, the acolyte leading them let out a garbled shriek, enraged by what it had seen. It turned toward the other thralls, shouting in their strange language—likely ordering them to search for the culprit.

I stepped out from behind the altar, making my presence known without a care. Immediately, every thrall turned toward me, with hostility rising like a wave.

“Looking for me?” I said with a smirk.

The acolyte in the lead had its eyes locked onto mine. It glared at me with pure malice before shrieking another command. Huh. They don’t seem the least bit afraid, even after seeing their camp destroyed and their strongest warriors dead. Guess they’re not that smart, after all.

“Alright then.” I cracked my neck, flexing my fingers over my weapon as I took out my blade. “Let’s see how this works—Fabled Vessel!”

You have activated Fabled Vessel.

Please select a divine hero or demigod that you want to possess.

[The Crimson Sovereign – Tyrant of the End]

[Voldrath the Eternal – The Lich-King of a Million Souls]

[Alric the Sword Saint – Hero of the Eternal Blade]

[Veyra the Thousand-Arrows – Huntress of the Stars]

[Selene the Moonlit Blade – Phantom of the Night]

In an instant, a blue menu flared before me, presenting a selection of powerful names. Surprisingly, all of the choices available were from the storybooks that I’d read in the bookstore, so I suspected only those deceased divine heroes whose stories I had read were available. It made sense—I never had much interest in low-rank divine heroes in my past life. Their feats weren’t worth remembering, even though they were legendary figures among mortals. As a result, none of them appeared on the list.

Without hesitation, I chose Alric the Sword Saint, calling upon a heroic spirit whose swordsmanship was unmatched.

You have possessed [Alric the Sword Saint].

Warning: Your current stats are too low to receive his full power!

Only 0.1% of Alric’s power is transferred to you.

Your stats have temporarily increased significantly.

Your sword-related skills have temporarily improved drastically.

An intense surge of power flooded my body, like a torrent breaking free from a dam. My grip on the sword felt much sharper, lighter, as if it had always been a part of me. An instinct I had never possessed before settled into my muscles, guiding my every move with effortless precision. Even without seeing the full extent of Alric’s strength, the difference was already worlds apart.

There was a sudden disturbance in the air.

I barely registered the dark projectile streaking toward me before my body moved on its own. With an effortless step, I tilted my sword and deflected the spell mid-air, dispersing it into harmless wisps of energy. A mere flicker of force—nothing worth noting. Normally, a common-grade sword would have burned or shattered attempting such a feat. But now, it was as if the very concept of destruction refused to touch my blade.

The thralls staggered at the sight, finally showing signs of fear, and I grinned at that.

“Your turn.” I pointed my sword at it, and with a step, I was gone from my spot.

Before the thralls could react, I was already among them. My blade carved through their bodies like a whisper through the wind, leaving only blackened blood in its wake. They tried to move, to retaliate, to chant their spells—but they were already dead before their nerves even registered the danger. Their bodies crumpled, lifeless, before they even realized I had cut them down.

You have hunted [Abyssal Thrall Lv.14].

You have gained 14 EXP.

You have hunted [Abyssal Thrall Lv.18].

You have gained 18 EXP.

You have hunted [Abyssal Thrall Lv.13].

You have gained 13 EXP.

You have hunted [Abyssal Thrall Lv.12].

You have gained 12 EXP.

…

In mere moments, the battlefield fell silent. Every single thrall lay motionless, their corpses sprawled across the cavern floor. Only the acolyte remained. It stood frozen, trembling, and seeming to be in sheer disbelief. It had just watched its entire squad get annihilated in the blink of an eye.

A faint, garbled whisper escaped its throat, perhaps a final incantation, or maybe a prayer to whatever eldritch being it served. But it was pointless.

I stepped forward and, with a single swing, cleaved through its torso. A wet, sickening sound echoed as its body split apart.

You have hunted [Abyssal Acolyte Lv.24].

You have gained 34 EXP.

I flicked my sword to clear the bloodstains before sheathing it and canceling the possession.

The possession has ended.

Your power has returned to normal.

Basic Swordsmanship has leveled up.

The overwhelming strength I had felt began to subside. My muscles no longer carried that unnatural sharpness, and my reflexes dulled slightly. However, there was something that remained. Even though the power boost had faded, my comprehension of the sword seemed to have improved somewhat. This must be one of the hidden benefits of using Fabled Vessel.

You have used up 39 Plausibility for the possession.

“Crap! It’s not even two minutes, and it’s already used that much?!” I was shocked speechless.

Clearly, this was not a sustainable power-up, and relying on Fabled Vessel for prolonged battles was completely off the table. I had to think of a way to gain more plausibility. To begin with, plausibility wasn’t something I could increase with free attribute points. One of the best-known ways to obtain it was by absorbing the accumulated faith of intelligent beings.

I smirked subconsciously. Absorbing faith, huh… This is interesting.

For a moment, I glanced back at the ruined altar, where the obsidian statue had once stood. The remnants of its shattered form no longer held even a trace of lingering faith; I had taken everything. But if I could extract this much power from an eldritch being’s followers… what would happen if I harvested it from even greater beings?

The possibilities were endless. If I could set up a cult of intelligent beings—or even divine warriors—the sheer amount of faith I could collect would be enormous. A self-sustaining cycle of devotion, continuously feeding me plausibility. I could create an entire factory dedicated to mass-producing faith, granting me an unlimited power source. That alone would make me unstoppable!

Just that both Istellia and Raphael were always watching Fantasia, and a scheme this blatant wouldn’t go unnoticed. The moment I started gathering faith in large amounts, they would catch on. As such, I needed a more discreet method. Something subtle. A way to exploit the system without drawing unwanted attention.

Putting the dangerous thought aside, I turned to loot the fallen thralls. Their possessions might be primitive and tattered, but they could be sold for soul coins. The System likely didn’t expect divine warriors to completely obliterate a camp like this, at least not alone. After all, most divine warriors who attempted the second scenario were still weak, struggling just to survive.

But I couldn’t get complacent just yet. Even with Fabled Vessel, fighting Scarface would still be tough. The power I felt from the possession only raised me to a Bet-rank divine warrior’s level, and that wasn’t enough. I couldn’t even manage to unlock any skills from the divine heroes that I possessed because I was simply too weak at my core.

I needed more power.

Once I gathered everything of value, I took a moment to rest before pressing on to explore the other part of the cavern, following the path that seemed to lead to the surface.

Before long, I came across a sewer tunnel similar to the one I had originally emerged from. The only difference was that it was a bit larger, and no water came into the cavern.

I stepped inside, my boots splashing lightly against the shallow water that had pooled along the floor. The walls were lined with the same moss-covered bricks, and the putrid stench of stagnant water was just as unbearable.

If this tunnel connects to the one I originally came from, then… I traced the layout in my mind. There had been multiple branches I had yet to explore, meaning I had likely taken a long, roundabout path to this point. If I had known, I might have reached this place much earlier—but then again, I wouldn’t have found the thralls’ camp or obtained my new class.

It was a fair trade-off.

As I continued forward, my footsteps echoed through the empty passage. There were no signs of life, no scurrying mutant rats, cockroaches, and no lurking figures in the shadows. The thralls must have cleared out any monsters in the area to avoid unwanted interruptions.

Thankfully, this tunnel didn’t have too many branching paths, and I soon arrived at what appeared to be the endpoint—a sewer water dump. A large, rusted grate blocked the exit, with thick streams of murky water seeping through its gaps into a deeper underground channel below.

The thralls had likely stopped here, as the grate remained largely intact, save for a few small holes—too narrow for anything but vermin to squeeze through. Testing it with a firm push, I felt it budge slightly, but the corroded metal still held strong, resisting any attempts to force my way through. I could try to destroy it with everything I got, but I didn’t see much point in doing so.

Glancing around, I spotted a maintenance hatch built into the wall just a few steps away. The rusted metal door bore a faded marking and could no longer be discerned. With some effort, I forced it open, revealing a ladder extended upward. A faint draft of fresh air drifted down, confirming that this was my way out.

Wasting no time, I climbed, each rung creaking under my weight. As I neared the top, my hands met another hatch—this one locked. With a well-placed strike, the mechanism gave way with a sharp snap, and I pushed it open.

A gust of cool night air washed over me as I emerged into the open. “Whoaa! Freedom!” I exhaled, relishing the crisp, untainted air for the first time in what felt like forever.

Finally, I was out.

But just as I began to savor my escape, a rustling sound came from behind me.