Chapter 1: Goddess, you bastard!
“I’m very sorry, Mr. Flo, but you did not pass the monk examination and cannot become an official monk.”
A middle-aged nun in white robes clasped her hands at her waist and slightly bowed, politely delivering the “death” sentence to the young man before her.
What was there to mourn? In his previous life, he might not even have existed. In that world where the Saintess had to remain chaste and unmarried for life, his very existence was a mistake, wasn’t it?
As the son of the previous Saintess, heir to the goddess’s bloodline, a modern intellectual of the new era, and a reincarnator with “limitless potential,” he couldn’t even become a monk.
His silver-white hair, shimmering like fresh winter snow, covered his brilliant golden eyes. But those bright eyes were buried in gloom, their radiance stolen.
The boy remained silent, only lowering his head.
The nun didn’t know what he was thinking but felt sympathy for his plight. The one who should have been most revered by the goddess couldn’t even become a monk. His parents had disappeared in his childhood, the old butler who raised him died of illness the following year, and the once-glorious family had been carved up and left in ruins. The young master, who should have lived a life of wealth, now worried daily about making ends meet.
The boy’s exam results were an open secret. The Astraea family had fallen, and no one wanted it to rise again and threaten their interests—not even the church.
After a long silence, the boy slightly raised his head, giving a bitter smile as he spoke.
“I’d like to heed the goddess’s guidance. Is that alright, Sister Marianne?”
“Of course, Mr. Flo. May the goddess bless you.”
Muttering something under his breath, the boy slowly walked toward the sacred statue in the church.
It depicted an utterly holy maiden, her cascading hair flowing down her back, lightly reaching her waist. Eight pristine wings spread freely behind her, and her ample chest supported a white robe adorned with intricate patterns. Her beautiful face, pure as a spring blossom, inspired no impure thoughts. The towering, majestic statue radiated sanctity and authority.
Astraea Holy Light, the Goddess of Time and Miracles, who had protected the world since ancient times, granting countless miracles and endless time to all beings.
The boy devoutly clasped his hands, offering the highest praise he could to the Goddess of Time.
“Esteemed Goddess of Time, as your most devout follower, I offer you my praise. First, I thank you for blessing all beings, granting the world your holy light. I praise your selfless generosity, saving all without regard for their life or death. I thank you for your righteous decision to deny an impure half-elf like me from becoming a priest. I thank you for your indifference to your Saintess’s disappearance, for your neglect in saving your own descendant, and for your apathy toward your family’s downfall. I thank you for selfishly withholding magic and holy power from your heir. And I sincerely understand your busy affairs, your inability to see the corruption within your sanctity, and your failure to notice the suffering and cruel oppression of your people…”
Nearly three hours later, the boy rose, secretly delighted, his pointed ears twitching with satisfaction.
His devout appearance moved passing nuns, who couldn’t hear his words but felt his supreme faith in the goddess.
Unbeknownst to him, the goddess’s statue behind him emitted a faint golden glow.
Such prayers continued for ten days. Many nuns remarked, “Truly worthy of being the goddess’s most devout follower!”
Indeed, the Saintess’s lineage was such an existence, even if his family had fallen.
The boy had intended to continue these prayers longer, but an accident—predictably—occurred.
Somewhere, in a resplendent golden palace, a maiden sat on a throne, legs crossed, a strange smile on her face. Her slender fingers, like polished jade, playfully toyed with her golden hair, as fine as silk. If Flo were there, he’d be shocked—her peerless beauty was identical to the Goddess of Time.
In contrast, the emerald-haired elf girl before her laughed uncontrollably, pointing at her nose without regard for decorum.
Her bell-like laughter echoed through the grand palace.
“No way, hahaha, Astraea, have you fallen this far? That kid cursed you for ten whole days, right? At least three hours a day, yeah? Your descendant, no less! How much must he hate you? He’s got some serious ‘admiration’ for you~ Gotta say, the kid’s got a way with words. Pretty entertaining. I’m a fan, haha! Pfft, let me sum it up for you: he’s basically saying, ‘Goddess, you’re a bstard,’ right? I’m dying here! You bragged about your descendants praising you, and I had to see this. Oh, he’s devout alright, thanking you non-stop. But, pfft, I can’t—cursed by your own descendant for three hours a day, every afternoon, for ten days straight. Man, that’s satisfying!”
Listening to the girl’s endless chatter, Astraea felt her divine self unravel. She immediately issued an oracle, commanding her followers to burn a forest as revenge against Daphne, the Goddess of Nature and Poetry.
Thus, after years of silence, the Goddess of Time issued an oracle once more.
“I’d say his behavior has something to do with your elf blood. The Astraea family has always been full of refined, graceful ladies. Guess what makes him different from his ancestors?”
“No way, go check a pond tomorrow and pick nine lotuses. This is your problem, don’t pin it on me! ”
The little girl danced around Astraea, gleeful. It had been ages since she’d seen Astraea so humiliated.
“You think he’ll show up tomorrow? ”
“He won’t get the chance.” Though her tone was gentle, the emerald-haired girl felt a chilling coldness.
Daphne adored Astraea’s descendant. His cheeky attitude was so much like her own! But she knew Astraea’s temperament—this kid was in for trouble. Don’t blame Daphne for not saving him; she was currently being strung up and beaten by Astraea! Tragic!
After the tenth day of prayer, Flo returned to his dilapidated home. The grand mansion housed no one but him. Struggling to survive, how could he afford servants?
Flo’s room was remarkably tidy, making it hard to believe it belonged to a boy.
In a corner he couldn’t see, a golden light quietly bloomed.
He lay on his bed, melancholic. In his past life, he was a college student who had just passed his graduate entrance exams. An orphan, he’d endured every hardship—bartending, apprenticing as a chef, waiting tables. He’d done almost everything, short of crossing legal or moral lines, working odd jobs and earning scholarships to pay his tuition. Yet, he died heroically while saving someone.
When he first transmigrated, he thought he’d hit the jackpot. The son of a Saintess, with an elf alchemist as his other parent, born into the glorious Astraea family—he’d finally be a rich young master after years of toil. But his luck didn’t last. His parents vanished, the butler passed away, the family business was devoured, and nearly everything was taken. All that remained was a spatial ring filled with books and notes from his parents.
He’d hoped to turn things around with his past-life knowledge, but when he tried to introduce modern business models, he found others had beaten him to it. The Silver Moon Chamber of Commerce had monopolized every profitable method he knew. Even more absurdly, he ate dishes from his hometown—like tomato and egg stir-fry—at their establishments. Rumor had it the chamber’s president was a young elf girl. So much for thinking he’d be the protagonist; clearly, someone else held that role.
Fine, if business wouldn’t work, he’d try something else. As a half-elf, he was shunned by both humans and elves, accepted by neither. Few places would hire him.
In combat, his half-elf magic circuits were blocked, unable to sense mana or use magic. He could only rely on melee skills as an adventurer to scrape by.
His knowledge was vast—his parents’ books and notes were invaluable—but useless without resources. Alchemy? No money. Other skills? No mana.