The God of Death—this was a truly peculiar divine portfolio.
Among the many greater deities, the God of Death was the most unique, for this portfolio changed hands more frequently than any other.
Yet this was not because the God of Death was too weak. On the contrary, it was a truly ancient mantle passed down from antiquity, a mighty portfolio that had existed before the Goddess of Magic was even born.
Even a bug, so long as it inherited this portfolio, would instantly become a top-tier deity.
After all, who could possibly kill the God of Death?
Thus, a succession of Death was rarely marked by demise, but by abdication.
This was the fine tradition established by the first God of Death: once bored of the job, simply pass it on. It was just that his successors generally did a terrible job, leading to turnover after turnover, and even the fracturing of the portfolio of Death into several distinct pieces.
Such wild antics were something no other gods had ever witnessed.
And the current God of Death had also risen from mortal stock, bearing the name—Kelemvor.
As a mighty deity presiding over a portfolio as unique and momentous as death, his talent and wisdom seemed scarcely up to the task.
After all, his defining modus operandi was simply—reckless bravado!
Among all the Gods of Death throughout history, Kelemvor was truly the sort of brute who would hurl an avatar straight into the Abyss on a bloodthirsty rampage.
When it came to handling the dead, others could at best praise him as "just," but he was far from clever.
Kelemvor retained far too much of his mortal sentimentality—so much so that he had once contemplated tearing down the Wall of the Faithless, the very wall where all souls lacking faith were plastered after death, and the single most vital deterrent compelling mortals to seek the shelter of the gods.
It was the Wall of the Faithless that made entry into a divine realm so precious.
Yet Kelemvor thought from a mortal perspective: wasn't this contraption simply forcing mortals' hands without a choice? That wouldn't do; I must tear it down.
Had he not been stopped in time, Kelemvor might have even alarmed Ao, provoking the Overgod to deliver a stinging backhand across his face.
Incidents like this were legion. Though Kelemvor committed no grave offenses, he was certainly not without his share of petty flaws.
Only, in recent years, Kelemvor had maintained a much lower profile, growing as reclusive as the first-generation God of Death, rarely seen or heard from.
Kelemvor was so reclusive that word of him had faded even across other planes; perhaps few mortals alive today still knew that the God of Death was named Kelemvor.
Even the God of Alchemy had never heard of him back when he was still mortal, learning much of this intelligence only after ascending to godhood.
If it were merely staying shut away at home, that would hardly be unusual.
Most deities were homebodies, frequently holing up in their divine realms for centuries or millennia without budging. Nor did the God of Death require mortal worship—death was a primordial concept, an inexhaustible font of power, wholly unaffected by a hermit's lifestyle.
Yet once the President of the Elegy Poetry Society made a move, matters took a very different turn.
For the Mourner was none other than the first-generation God of Death—Jergal.
It was this old patriarch who had inaugurated the system of peaceful succession for the portfolio of Death. After resigning, he served as a seneschal aiding each successive God of Death. Whenever the incumbent deity could no longer fulfill their duties, Jergal would find a way to replace them.
Though he had willingly surrendered the might bestowed by the portfolio, Jergal could still play his juniors like puppets in the palm of his hand. The gods might not have known the specifics, but the outcomes were there for all to see.
Jergal remained Jergal, while the God of Death changed again and again.
When the God of Alchemy had prepared to elevate Anbaixiu to subordinate deity, it was Jergal who had paid him a visit and asked him to wait.
Jergal had not said what to wait for, nor how long, offering only an earnest request that the God of Alchemy delay promoting his student.
The God of Alchemy had agreed without a second thought—in truth, he had no choice.
On the surface, Jergal was no longer a god, merely a scribe serving beneath the God of Death.
Yet everyone knew that this elder seldom spoke; but when he did speak, it was invariably about monumental matters.
The God of Alchemy suspected that it was precisely because of Jergal's secret scheme that Anbaixiu had stirred up so many massive upheavals yet still received no summons from Ao.
This was a venerable predecessor to whom even Ao showed deference.
The Goddess of Wealth was somewhat skeptical.
"Is Kelemvor truly about to be ousted by Jergal? I recall the two of them being on rather good terms."
The God of Alchemy replied helplessly, "It's merely my speculation. They are indeed quite close; back when Kelemvor was still a mortal, he received Jergal's guidance and was ultimately propped up onto the seat of the God of Death. Though Kelemvor isn't exceptionally clever, he has been diligent and conscientious, never committing any catastrophic mistakes. Going by Jergal's character, it shouldn't warrant replacing him. Perhaps there are other reasons behind this."
Kelemvor had vanished from the public eye for a very long time, which meant the old patriarch had likely been preparing for just as long. Though curious, the God of Alchemy did not inquire, nor did he possess the standing to interrogate Jergal. He could only offer a silent prayer to Ao, hoping his student would have good fortune. Whether Anbaixiu became the God of Death was secondary; what mattered was not getting pulverized in the gears of such colossal affairs.
It didn't matter if his student lacked a glorious future—there would always be a place by the teacher's side to ensure he was well provided for. His only fear was that the boy had been targeted, leaving him unable to keep a low profile even if he wanted to.
"Sigh, then it seems I cannot bestow my blessing upon your student either. If I entangle myself in this now, it will only draw more eyes to him and place him in greater danger." The Goddess of Wealth felt deeply regretful. After finally chancing upon the most ideal Chosen, she could only watch from the sidelines. She had no shortage of enemies and was too weak, forcing her to remain in hiding. Any blessing she could grant Anbaixiu right now was negligible; far from offering meaningful aid, it would only drag him into her own troubles.
"No matter. He's a lich anyway, so a few years won't make a difference. Knowing his personality, commerce will boom in the coming years, and your power will rapidly grow as well."
The Goddess of Wealth rallied her spirits and declared resolutely, "Quite right. I will also do my best to assist him. In the coming years, his business ventures will run far smoother than anyone else's. That is my promise."
"Alright, it's about time. I will depart for the Elemental Plane of Water now."
The God of Alchemy stuffed a vast array of oddly shaped contraptions into his mechanical backpack. The compact space seemed to swallow an entire fortress; to work for Anbaixiu this time, the god had truly emptied out his personal reserves.
As the portal opened, the God of Alchemy stepped into that azure realm.
At the same time, the three devil archdukes of Hell received word. The infernal legions had already assembled, waiting only for the God of Alchemy to lure out the Kuo-toa Goddess, whereupon the three archdukes would pounce without hesitation to capture her alive.
With an undertaking of such magnitude, many deities sensed the ripples even before battle was officially joined.
Hell's movements reverberated across the multiverse, and the simultaneous mobilization of the masters of the First and Third Layers of Hell was impossible to conceal.
Not to mention loudmouth Talos.
Never one to shy away from chaos, the storm god immediately understood what was happening the moment he sensed the infernal commotion. From within his divine realm, the Towers of Ruin, he rang the doom-knell of cataclysm, sending its echoes rolling across the heavens.
The tolling reverberated with smug bravado, laying bare the full context and origins of the affair.
Nearly every deity who heard the knell grasped what was happening: Hell had deployed three archdukes all to snatch a bride for Talos.
To think the Lord of Storms was so terrifying that even archdukes of Hell were helping him kidnap a wife?!
The Lord of Storms roared with laughter, unending thunder raging across his divine realm!
Yet the God of Alchemy and the three infernal archdukes gnashed their teeth in fury.
Talos could do nothing but ruin things! Kidnapping a goddess was hardly a glorious endeavor to begin with; kept in the dark, others would have pondered whether Hell's actions harbored some unfathomable plot, terrified of blundering into a deadly trap.
Now that Talos had laid everything bare, there was no secret left. Stripped of mystery, it became a simple question of whether deities with grudges against Hell would decide to intervene.
If lawful good deities like the Lord of the Dawn and the God of Justice took offense and decided to step in, wouldn't that spell disaster?
One misstep, and Hell would find itself at war with the entire good alignment!
The three devil archdukes sought out the God of Alchemy at utmost speed. With the arrow already on the bowstring, they had to decide whether to fall back temporarily or forge ahead.
The God of Alchemy was momentarily indecisive as well. He had never been adept at scheming and decisive leadership, merely carrying out his role according to the plan Anbaixiu had laid out beforehand. Who could have foreseen Talos pulling a stunt like this?
Zariel and Tiamat also felt uneasy and advocated a temporary retreat. After all, they had already collected their payment; avoiding the labor while pocketing pure profit was the best possible outcome.
Only Mammon resolved without hesitation to press on, demanding they pick up the pace.
"Every god now knows our target. If we don't strike before they have time to stop us, we'll lose even the advantage of speed next time. What if some mighty deity decides to cause Hell trouble by taking the Kuo-toa Goddess under their wing? All our efforts will have been in vain!
"Don't think I don't know what you two are scheming—you just want to pocket the coin and shirk the work. But now that the gods are watching, if we pull back at the eleventh hour and word spreads, how will we ever do business with anyone again? Do you have no concept of contractual integrity? It's people like you who ruin the reputation of devils!"
Mammon would have loved to get something for nothing too, and theoretically he could have. Yet he saw much further than Zariel and Tiamat.
Everything came down to scope and influence. When only a handful of people knew, the truth could be dismantled piece by piece, and one could nitpick every word and exploit every loophole to win at all costs.
Yet this incident carried too wide an impact. The gods would not listen to a devil's excuses about contract clauses and fine print.
As the greatest miser in Hell, he valued the reputation of devils above all else. A devil could be treacherous, vicious, and cruel, but under no circumstances could they be perceived as breaking a contract. Even a rumor, even baseless whispers, could not be tolerated.
They were already in the evil alignment; if they were additionally branded as lacking contractual integrity, how could devils ever do business in the future?
If the Lord of Hell found out, flaying and sinew-tearing would be considered light punishments.
From the very beginning, there had been no turning back. A pureblood devil like Mammon understood what contracts meant far better than these transplants.
The God of Alchemy understood Mammon's reasoning and decisively took his side.
The deity pulled a heap of components from his backpack and assembled them at blistering speed.
In the blink of an eye, a contraption resembling a sonar horn was fully set up. The God of Alchemy shoved the modified bone whistle inside and activated the device.
A low, eerie tone sounded through the azure sea, rippling faster than light to every corner of the Elemental Plane of Water.
Before long, a roar erupted from the depths of the ocean as the Kuo-toa Goddess shrieked: "Kill! Kill all the brain-eating bastards!"
Chapter 489