I absently scratched at the tattoo between my new man boobs, trying and failing to adjust to the body that Damella had forced my soul into, as I continued to vent. The last thirty minutes were like striking out at an endless supply of curveballs while riding a roller coaster blindfolded. "So, let me get this straight! In an attempt to call back a spirit from the afterlife and resurrect your universe's version of me, she somehow ripped my soul out of my body and shoved it into the dead body of your universe's version of me," I shouted, glaring at Damella, the young acolyte who'd been standing in the doorway in my world, and was now standing next to me in my apparently new one.
The girl blushed a brighter shade of red, matching the colour of the silk altar cloth I'd quickly wrapped around myself after rousing and discovering I was naked. She dropped her gaze and clutched at her acolyte robes, which I'd mistaken for a cosplay outfit, nervously balling them between her fists.
Varla, the archbishop of whichever god's temple I was in, nodded her head, still fiddling with the magical ring she'd slipped onto my finger that allowed us to communicate.
Varla was a few years older than me, early thirties, and gorgeous enough to almost distract me from my anger. She was on the tall side for a woman, almost six feet, with dusty blonde hair tied back in a bun, and soft, intelligent blue eyes. It was mostly her ornate white and red robes that gave her a presence of authority. "That's basically what seems to have happened, Arnold. It is a complication of the resurrection process."
"A complication of the resurrection process"—that was too delicate a way of saying that Damella had killed me. I turned to the giant golden serpent on the white marble wall to my right, trying to distract myself while I counted to ten. Maybe they worshipped it. Maybe it was just a symbol like the cross is to Christians. Right now, I didn't care. I was trying to calm down.
It didn't work.
The foreignness of the symbol made me angrier.
This curveball was a little bigger than the ones life usually hits me with.
I wanted to shout, scream, swear, and vent my frustration. The sight of the girl made me angrier than I'd ever been in my life. This was too much to deal with. The ramifications of the archbishop's statement was...was not something I could face this second. I felt like I was drowning and anger was the only thing keeping me afloat.
A small growl escaped my mouth. My hands began to shake. "You know, up until about an hour ago, I would have told you there is no good reason to hit a child." My fist came up. "But I'd never been killed by one before, so what did I know?"
The small acolyte cowered, but she did not run. I sat there, trembling with fury, angrier than I'd ever been, but she was like ten. And I wasn't about to hit a ten-year-old, no matter how angry I was, even if she had accidentally killed me.
I forced myself to lower my fist and grip the edge of the altar until my knuckles turned white. I took several slow, deep breaths, counting them out, trying to force myself to relax.
Varla calmly reached down and removed the thin wooden cane hanging from her belt and offered it me. "First of all, Damella is thirteen, and that makes her a legal adult; otherwise, she could never have started her apprenticeship with the temple. Secondly, if you are planning to beat her for killing you, temple regulations require you use a cane. In the past, we've had too many priests and priestesses a little too eager to lay hands on our young acolytes."
I stared at the archbishop, confused. Her tone was far too calm. "Wait, you want me to beat her?"
The archbishop shrugged, not at all concerned by my anger. "She is going to be punished for her actions, and whether I do it or you do it makes little difference to me." She turned to the girl whose eyes were glued to the cane. "Your instructors have been too lenient, Damella. They gave you permission to use this altar for minor rituals. You used that permission to sneak a dead body in here and attempt a full resurrection. Now, we must deal with the results of your actions, actions which have irrevocably changed the trajectory of someone's life. You will find no more chances, no more special treatment. Today, you face judgement. Today you receive the most severe reprimand I am allowed to issue and it is honestly not enough after what you have done…so prepare yourself for punishment."
The girl didn't protest. She didn't deny her actions. She moved forward and placed her hands upon the altar bending forward slightly, not bending over like they used to do in Catholic school, more like how people used to stand when they were flogged. Her body trembled as she bravely resigned herself to her fate.
The archbishop stepped forwards and brought the cane down across the girl's lower back. Whack! Damella shrieked. Three more blows followed in quick succession, one on the back of the thighs, one on the middle of the back and the last across the shoulder blades. Whack! Whack! Whack! The blows were so quick the girl didn't have time to inhale before crying out, so only breathless whimpers followed.
The archbishop turned and held out the cane, offering it to me again. "Would you like a turn? Or should I continue?"
I stared at the girl, trying to feel pity for her, trying to give myself a reason not to take Varla up on her offer. None came. All I felt was anger, anger that kept my head above the water, anger that denied the reality of my situation.
I didn't even get off the altar. I grabbed the cane and brought it down across Damella's shoulder blades with everything I had.
Whack!
You have caused 1 bludgeoning damage to Damella.
I dropped the cane, losing what little semblance of self-control I'd managed to retain throughout this ordeal. "Ah! What the hell? There are words floating in the air."
"Oh, dear," Varla said. "Judging by your reaction, you don't have damage prompts in your world."
The words began to fade.
I turned to Varla.
She was frowning.
She'd explained some of the bare basics about my new world, like the fact that it was magic that brought me here. That was intriguing but not enough to distract me from my anger. However, this new bit of information caught my attention in a way the rest hadn't. "Wait, did you say 'damage prompts'?"
"Yes."
"Does that mean you have health?"
She nodded. "Of course."
"Does that mean you can level, get stronger here?"
"The short answer is yes."
I expression softened as I stepped away from the altar. My emotions were suddenly at war with each other. Excitement was trying to smoother the angry inferno inside me. I picked up the cane. There was barely any weight to it. My gaze landed on Damella. Her small body was leaning against the altar quivering. Tears were running down both cheeks. Excitement fought hard, but didn't win, and my anger didn't lessen.
Whack!
You have caused 1 bludgeoning damage to Damella.