The Creator God

"Don't run!" A little boy, barefoot, was sprinting across the soft sand. After only a few steps, he was already panting heavily. "You... you... why are you still running!"

The creature the boy was chasing ahead was a Giant Fiddler Crab. Its eight thick, powerful legs were moving with lightning speed, and every so often, it would glance back at the boy with the two eyes perched atop its head.

"Damn it! You still dare to look at me? Just wait until I catch you, I'll rip those crab legs right off!" The boy braced his hands on his knees to catch his breath for a moment before charging after the crab again with reckless abandon.

"Andy! Chasing crabs again?" A middle-aged man called out to the boy. The man wasn't particularly muscular, but he was quite tall. He walked over from the other side of the beach, also barefoot.

"Hey... hey... yeah, I have to. If I don't catch a crab, we're going to go hungry!" the boy, Andy, said between gasps.

"Ah, forget it, Andy. I have a few fish here. Take two back and use them to help your father regain his strength!" the man said. The slightly salty sea breeze blowing in from the ocean ruffled the brown hair by his ears, revealing a pair of long, pointed ears.

"I can't, Uncle Niwa! Father said we can't keep taking your fish. Our family has already received too much from you." Even as Andy shouted this, his feet never stopped moving; he still had his heart set on the crab. The one he'd encountered today was massive; if he could catch it, he and his father would be able to eat much better.

"Silly child, what are you saying! I've left the fish right here. Hurry back, pick them up, and go home to make fish soup for your father!" Niwa took two fish from his basket, laid them on the sand, and turned away, shaking his head as he walked off.

Andy glanced back at the fish, gritted his teeth, and decided to keep chasing the crab. He really couldn't take Uncle Niwa's fish again; if he did, his father would surely scold him to death when he got home.

In that split second of hesitation, Andy stepped into a soft sand pit and immediately face-planted, his mouth filling with sand. The giant crab in the distance also stopped, staring with its two round, beady eyes, waving its massive claws back and forth as if mocking Andy.

Andy spat out the sand in his mouth in frustration and glared viciously at the crab, cursing himself for a fool. This sand pit was one he had dug himself while playing on the beach the day before. If not for this hole, he might have actually caught the crab. He had truly sabotaged himself.

Why was Andy working so hard? That required looking back at his own story.

How Andy arrived here, he himself did not know. All he knew was that he didn't belong in this place. To use a trendy phrase, Andy had transmigrated, but he had no memory of how it happened. He only knew that when he woke up, he was lying on the shore by the sea. Now, his father, Old Dick, had taken him back to the village and raised him for nearly a year.

At first, Andy had been listless, not wanting to do anything. Although he had no memory of the transmigration, the memories of his past life still existed in fragments within his mind. Transmigration was one thing, but why did he have to become a little kid? According to Old Dick, he was only ten years old.

As for where he had transmigrated to, Andy only found out three months later, when he finally worked up the courage to step out of the house for the first time.

Andy would never forget what he saw that day. When he walked onto the beach, breathing in the damp, salty sea air, stretching his little body, and turned around, he nearly dropped his jaw to the ground.

Directly to his north, a massive tree canopy pierced the sky! Although it was far away, the canopy was so large that he could see it with perfect clarity.

This was...

An incredulous Andy ran back home, grabbed his savior, Old Dick, and asked him what this place was.

Old Dick first sighed a few times for the poor child, then broke into a violent coughing fit. Old Dick's health had never been good, and he usually relied on the help of neighbors. Adding an extra mouth like Andy had nearly pushed his already crumbling body to the breaking point.

Old Dick caught his breath and said slowly, "Silly child, this is Rut'theran Village."

"Rut'theran Village?" Andy's face paled, and he instantly broke into a cold sweat. "Rut'theran Village? Then is that Darnassus City of Teldrassil to the north?"

"Supposedly, yes. But I've never left the village in my life; I only hear it from those who come here to take the ships. The north should be called Teldrassil, and the main city is Darnassus," Old Dick said. Then, squinting his eyes in surprise, he added, "You know of Teldrassil? Could it be that you are a child from there?"

Andy plopped down onto the ground and began to laugh softly. The sound grew louder and louder until, in the end, he was laughing through tears, though he didn't know if he was truly crying or not. Azeroth, it was actually Azeroth! World of Warcraft!

Andy laughed for a while, then gradually stopped. He suddenly sprang up from the ground, reached out, and brushed back Old Dick's hair. Beneath the brown hair were a pair of long, pointed ears. Elves!

Andy found a puddle and lifted his own long hair; a pair of smaller, pointed ears were hidden underneath. Damn it, he had actually transmigrated into an elf!

Andy glared fiercely at the crab and quickly stood up to give chase. The giant crab fled in a panic. After chasing for a moment, Andy stumbled and stopped in his tracks. The giant crab kept running forward, completely unaware that its pursuer had stopped.

Rage-Scale Beach—Andy knew this place. Based on his knowledge of World of Warcraft from his past life, deep under the waters off this beach lived a group of mutated High Elves—the Naga!

Andy didn't dare to continue the chase. If he ran into those cruel, bloodthirsty monsters, he would surely lose his life. The giant crab stopped in its tracks and began to act cocky again. Andy gave the crab the middle finger, cursed it for being lucky, and turned to head back.

Just then, a line of water suddenly parted in the sea ahead. Andy whispered a curse and turned to run. After a few steps, he snuck a glance back and was so terrified his soul nearly left his body. Two large Naga were chasing him, howling, with large tridents gripped in two of their six arms.

"Pfft!"

Andy's eyes bulged as he stared in shock at the tip of the trident protruding from his chest. He collapsed to his knees, limp. "Your aim is really accurate..." Andy muttered, blood bubbling from his lips.

Andy felt his consciousness growing increasingly blurred, and the world before his eyes faded away. Finally, it felt as if he had fallen into a bottomless abyss, or was drifting through an infinite, starry universe.

"Andy, wake up!" A voice called out, waking him.

Andy slowly opened his eyes. A harsh white light stung them, and he squinted, waiting until he had fully adjusted before opening them wide. An old man dressed in casual clothes was looking at him with a smile.

Andy was startled, feeling as if his brain couldn't keep up. First, he had inexplicably transmigrated to Azeroth, then been stabbed to death by a Naga's flying trident, and now, where was he?

"Who are you, old man?" Andy asked, on guard.

"Me? In your terms, I am a god," the old man said with a smile. "To put it another way, you can call me the Creator God!"

"The Creator God!" Andy's mouth hung open. "Are you trying to trick a ghost?"

"You don't believe me?" The old man said, reaching out and grabbing a sausage, stuffing it into his mouth. Andy, watching from the side, couldn't help but swallow hard.

"Can you do magic tricks, too?" Andy rolled his eyes.

"Cough, cough..." The old man choked slightly. "What magic tricks? This is creation! Creation, understand? You foolish human!" The old man seemed triggered and shouted loudly.

Andy didn't care; he just kept rolling his eyes at the old man.

"Don't you want to know where you are?" The old man finished the sausage, looking like a conspirator again with a smile.

"I do! Tell me! How did I get to Azeroth, and what is this place?" Andy jumped up from the ground and shouted.

"This is, of course, my domain. You can call it Heaven or whatever you like! As for how you got to Azeroth..." The old man smiled and continued, "Of course, it was I, the omnipotent god, who sent you there."

"Ah!" Andy's mouth was now wide enough to fit several eggs. "I, I, I'm going to kill you!" Andy lunged forward.

"Whoa there!" The old man turned and dodged. "I'm telling you, don't force me to take action, or I'll turn you into a pig. Do you believe me?"

"I'm going to kill you!" Andy didn't give up.

"You are beyond teaching!" The old man uttered a phrase from his past life and pointed a finger at Andy. In an instant, Andy began to grunt and squeal, truly turning into a pig.

"Are you going to keep fighting? Do you believe me now? Do you know you were wrong? If you know you were wrong, give me a nod!" the old man said, rapping his knuckles against the pig's head.

Andy, currently transformed into a pig, nodded helplessly twice. The old man smiled in satisfaction, pointed a finger, and Andy transformed back—though he went from standing on two legs to landing on all fours.

"Grandpa Immortal, why did you send me to Azeroth?" Andy was on the verge of tears.

"I am not Grandpa Immortal, I am the Creator God!" the old man huffed, chin held high.

"Yes, yes, Grandpa Creator God!" Andy corrected himself.

"What 'Grandpa'? Am I really that old?" the old man asked.

"Well, why don't you conjure a mirror and see for yourself?" Andy said cautiously.

The old man reached behind his back and actually pulled out a mirror, peering into it. "Oh, my. Who is this? Why am I so old?" The old man looked at Andy, saw the 'well, you are' expression on his face, and shouted, "A miscalculation, a miscalculation, truly a miscalculation! How did I end up as an old man this time? Sigh!"

Andy couldn't help but think that there was something wrong with this old man's brain.

"Let's get back to business," the old man said, his expression suddenly turning solemn. "You finished your run in your original world—in other words, you died. According to the standards of creation, your soul is meant to go to another world to complete its life, and that's that! Of course, the decision rests with me; only I can decide where you go after death."

"Then why Azeroth?" Andy asked with a bitter face.

"Who told you to fill your brain with World of Warcraft and the like? Wouldn't it be a disservice to you if I didn't send you there?" the old man said with a straight face.

"So, what is my current situation?" Andy asked again.

"Dead!" the old man said. "Because you died too quickly in the new world, you are being granted a chance to resurrect. Naturally, you only get one such chance, so make yourself strong as quickly as possible. Otherwise, if you die again, who knows where I might dump you."

"How am I supposed to get strong? I don't know how to do anything! Grandpa Creator God, even when you create a character in World of Warcraft, they come with starting skills. How am I supposed to survive when I don't know a damn thing?" Andy complained.

"That's a fair point. Tell you what, I'll give you a personal sponsorship. Stick your head over here!" the old man said.

Andy did as he was told and leaned in. The old man poked Andy casually on the forehead and said, "There, that should do it."

"What did you give me?" Andy asked curiously.

"You'll find out when the time comes!" the old man said.

"Then why the hell did you make me an Elf?" Andy asked.

"Isn't that your favorite race?" the old man said. "You have too many questions. It's time for you to go back; I have plenty of work left to do!" The old man's patience had finally run out, and as he spoke, he pointed a finger.

That familiar feeling of dizziness surged into his mind. Andy knew he was about to leave and shouted, "One last question! How did I die before?"

The old man's voice echoed through the endless void: "You choked on water! Are you satisfied with that way to go?"

"What the—!"