Chapter 7: Which God Should I Blame This On? Asking Online, Kinda Urgent

Chapter 7: Which God Should I Blame This On? Asking Online, Kinda Urgent

“Divine revelation?”

Captain Karen’s eyes lit up immediately.

That healing spell earlier had already restored a good bit of his strength. Now, fueled by excitement from the good news, even his face—still pale from blood loss—flushed slightly with a healthy red tinge.

“A divine revelation? That’s wonderful, Little Garrett!”

Garrett felt a warm flush in his chest.

He understood exactly why Uncle Karen was so overjoyed:

To receive a divine revelation—even at the lowest tier of divine service—meant an instant leap in status for the original Garrett, who had merely been a common city guard.

From a bottom-rung civilian, straight into the middle class.

Just look at the contrast—those scratchy burlap vests the guards wore, versus the soft fine-linen robes little Freckles had on.

And even more importantly—Garrett hadn’t gone through any formal Church training or education. He’d received a revelation directly—

That made him a saint.

A chosen one.

A favored of the gods!

A golden road to divinity had just opened right in front of him.

Some people meet others’ fortune with envy. Some ignore it altogether. But this Uncle Karen—he was genuinely, wholeheartedly happy for the boy he’d raised.

Garrett’s heart softened, warmed. He smiled back…

…only for the smile to freeze the next instant, when Uncle Karen, riding the high of excitement, asked his next question:

“Which god was it?”

Garrett: “……”

Right. Which god?!

Logically, his medical skills should fall under the domain of a healing god.

So… Shennong? Bian Que? Hua Tuo?

Wait no—those are Chinese gods!

The people here all look like Westerners—throwing a Chinese deity into the mix would be way off-brand!

Maybe Apollo? Asclepius? …Hippocrates?

Still doesn’t work—this is a completely different world!

What were the local gods here again…?

Which one’s the most approachable?

Which god wouldn’t smite him for name-dropping without permission?

Tight on time, high stakes—he really needed a scapegoat god, and fast. 

The new Garrett Nordmark scrambled to search the original’s memory at lightning speed.

There were a few temples in Hartland City, that much he remembered:

The Temple of the God of War.

The Spring Goddess’s Shrine.

The Temple of the God of Nature—

Wait, no—did the God of Nature even have a temple?

And what exactly were these gods in charge of again?

Which one had the nicest personality?

What did their clergy look like?

Crap. Why can’t I remember?!

The only thing he could feel right now was a dull, throbbing pain in his skull.

On instinct, Garrett reached behind to touch the back of his head—there was a swollen bump, still damp to the touch.

Was it bleeding?!

His breath caught. His heart began pounding faster and faster.

Head trauma!

Amnesia!

Wait, what happened before I passed out? I can’t remember! That’s retrograde amnesia, isn’t it?

Did this body suffer a concussion?

Could there be intracranial bleeding? What if in a day, or three, or ten, I collapse again—or start getting headaches, nausea, vomiting, even paralysis?

And there’s no CT scanner in this godforsaken place—!

Calm down!!!

Garrett forced himself to rein in his spiraling thoughts.

‘I transmigrated. No way I’m going down like this.’

‘The memory gap must be due to an incomplete fusion, not a brain injury!’

‘What kind of transmigrator gets taken out by the original host’s wounds anyway?’

‘People get shot through the head and walk it off—what’s a little bump compared to that?!’

He pep-talked himself furiously.

Then, eyes squeezed shut, he dove into the half-merged, fragmented memories of the original body—desperately trying to find something useful.

But all he managed to dig up were scattered fragments.

There was no helping it.

Worshiping gods in this world was a privilege for the wealthy and idle.

For someone poor like the original Garrett, religious worship was a once- or twice-a-year affair—at most.

And even then, it was just squeezing into the crowd outside the temple, tiptoeing to get a glimpse of the priests’ flowing robes.

Whether or not you got to see an actual divine spell—pure luck.

As for receiving healing, or learning literacy from a cleric—the original Garrett had never experienced anything like that in his entire life.

Right—there was once a towering and magnificent Bright Temple at the heart of Hartland City. Its spire was even taller than the city lord’s mansion across the plaza.

But now, that entire temple  sat empty.

The clergy and everyone else?

Evicted. Three years ago.

Garrett couldn’t recall any other temples being around. So that narrowed things down. Simple: three choices.

First, eliminate the God of War.

Garrett glanced aside, guilty. It all came back to him now—Little Priest John was from the Temple of the God of War. That shield embroidered on his chest? That was the temple’s simplest insignia, standard issue for lower-ranking priests.

Lying about divine revelations right in front of a priest from that temple? Yeah, no.

Besides, let’s be real. The God of War? Definitely a battle-hardened, no-nonsense type. Probably didn’t tolerate bluffing. And the clergy?

Absolutely the kind to pick a fight over one wrong word.

If they found out he was faking a divine revelation under their god’s name?

The entire temple might mobilize. Priests and warriors both. He’d be chopped into mincemeat.

Next, toss out the Spring Goddess.

Just from the name alone, she screamed “minor deity.” No prestige, no power. Probably the kind of god stuck in the bottom rung of divinity for eternity.

Zero career potential following her.

That only left the God of Nature.

Perfect. Sounded like a god with broad jurisdiction and high potential.

In those web novels he used to read, the God of Nature often ranked among the chief deities.

Garrett’s gaze hardened with conviction. Without hesitation, he declared:

“The God of Nature!”

“…The God of Nature, huh…”

Captain Karen’s once-bright eyes dimmed slightly.

Around Wu Zhou, sighs of disappointment rippled through the group: Raymond, Tom, Vali—and even Priest John—all looked let down.

Garrett’s heart gave a hard thump.

That expression—he knew it too well.

Back in his past life, at every major crossroads where he had made a realistic, if not-so-perfect, decision, those were the exact same looks he’d received from others.

From his advisor.

His mother.

His ex-girlfriend…

“You’re not going for your PhD anymore? Well, I suppose it’s hard with your family’s situation… alright then.”

“Emergency medicine, huh? Yeah, First Provincial Hospital is hard to stay at… emergency’s fine, I guess.”

“Volunteering in Africa for a year? Just to fast-track your promotion to deputy chief? …Fine, up to you.”

Apparently… the God of Nature wasn’t a particularly inspiring choice.

Is it too late to change my answer to the God of War?

Or maybe even the Spring Goddess?

But he froze for just one second too long—and the window to change his answer closed.

Captain Karen, having recovered from his disappointment, brought his palms together at his chest and prayed softly:

“Thank you, God of Nature, for your grace…”

“Thank you, God of Nature, for your grace!”

The entire squad echoed in unison, regardless of their personal beliefs.

Even Little Priest John bowed his head with solemn respect toward the God of Nature.

Garrett fell silent.

What’s said is said—no take-backs.

He’d named the God of Nature, and there’d be no switching gods now.

Digging the hole had been easy.

Filling it?

Might end in cremation.

He’d better start seriously considering how to get along with the God of Nature—milk this for benefits and avoid getting exposed.

Just as this thought formed, the group finished their prayer and looked up.

All eyes turned to him, burning with expectation.

Captain Karen’s nephew, Raymond, spoke up first:

“So, Garrett, what now?”

Garrett snapped back to the moment.

He glanced around quickly.

Captain Karen was still too injured to move, eyes closed in rest.

John was just tagging along.

But the others—Raymond, Tom, and Vali—were all staring at him, eager and expectant.

From the looks of it, whether they advanced or retreated—that decision was his to make now.

Wait, what?

This divine revelation—this whole thing—it’s fake!!