Creator God

"Don't run!" A little boy raced barefoot across the soft sand. He had only gone a few steps before he was already panting. "Y-you... why are you still running?!"

The creature he was chasing was a Giant Fiddler Crab. Its eight thick, powerful legs moved like the wind, and every so often it glanced at the boy with the two eyes perched atop its head.

"I... damn it! You dare look at me? Just wait till I catch you—I'll yank those crab legs right off!" The boy braced his hands on his knees and took a couple of breaths, then charged after the crab again with all his might.

"Andy! Catching crabs again?" A middle-aged-looking man called out to the boy. He wasn't particularly burly, but he was tall. Barefoot as well, he came over from the other side of the beach.

"Ah... ah... yeah. What else am I supposed to do? If I don't catch any crabs, we'll go hungry!" Andy panted.

"Ah, forget it, Andy. I've got a few fish here. Take two home and cook them for your pa. He could use a hearty meal," the middle-aged man said. The salty sea breeze stirred the brown hair beside his ears, revealing a pair of long, pointed ears.

"No, Uncle Niwa! Pa said we can't keep taking your fish. Our family's already received so much help from you." Andy called back, never slowing his steps. He still had to catch that crab. The one he'd come across today was huge, and if he caught it, he and Pa would have a decent meal for once.

"Don't be silly, child. What are you talking about? I've left the fish here. Hurry back and take them home to make fish soup for your pa!" Niwa took two fish from his basket and set them on the beach. Then he shook his head and walked away.

Andy glanced back at the fish and gritted his teeth. He decided to keep chasing the crab. He really couldn't accept any more fish from Uncle Niwa, or Pa would yell at him when he got home.

In that moment of distraction, Andy stepped into a patch of soft sand and went sprawling, his face planted in the ground and his mouth full of sand. The big crab stopped some distance away, staring at him with its round eyes as it waved its enormous claws from side to side, as if mocking him.

Andy spat out the sand in his mouth and glared furiously at the crab, cursing himself for being an idiot. He'd dug that pit himself while playing on the beach two days ago. If not for that hole, he might have caught up with the crab. He'd really tripped himself up.

Why was Andy trying so hard? To understand that, we had to start with him.

Andy had no idea how he'd ended up here. All he knew was that he didn't belong. To use the fashionable term, he'd transmigrated, though he had no memory of how it happened. He only knew that when he woke up, he'd been lying by the water on this beach. His pa now, Old Man Dick, had brought him back to the village and raised him for nearly a year.

At first, Andy had been utterly despondent and didn't want to do anything. Though he couldn't remember how he'd transmigrated, scraps of his past life still lingered in his mind. So he'd transmigrated—fine. But why did he have to become a little kid? According to Old Man Dick, he was only ten years old.

Andy didn't find out where he'd transmigrated to until three months later, when he finally left the house for the first time.

Andy would never forget what he saw that day. He'd walked onto the beach, breathed in the damp, salty sea air, stretched his arms in a lazy yawn, and turned around. The sight nearly made his jaw hit the ground.

To the north, a gigantic canopy rose straight into the sky! Though it was far away, the tree was so huge that he could see it clearly.

This was...

Andy, still unable to believe it, raced home and grabbed his savior, Old Man Dick, asking him where they were.

Old Man Dick first sighed several times over the poor child, then broke into a violent coughing fit. His health had never been good, and the neighbors usually looked after him. Taking Andy in had nearly pushed his already frail body past its limits.

After catching his breath, Old Man Dick said slowly, "Silly child, this is Rut'theran Village."

"Rut'theran Village?" Andy's face changed, and he broke out in a cold sweat. "Rut'theran Village? Is Darnassus City on Teldrassil to the north?"

"I've heard so, but I've never left the village in my life. That's just what the people who come here by boat say. The land to the north is called Teldrassil, and its capital is Darnassus." Old Man Dick paused, then narrowed his eyes in surprise. "You know about Teldrassil? Are you from there?"

Andy plopped down on the ground and started laughing quietly. Then his laughter grew louder and louder until tears streamed down his face. He didn't even know if he was crying or not. Azeroth—it was Azeroth! World of Warcraft!

After laughing for a while, Andy gradually quieted down. Then he suddenly sprang to his feet and pushed Old Man Dick's hair aside. Beneath his brown hair was a pair of long, pointed ears. An Elf!

Andy found a puddle and pushed aside his own long hair too. A pair of smaller pointed ears was hidden beneath it. Damn it, he'd transmigrated as an Elf!

Andy glared fiercely at the crab, sprang up, and chased after it again. The big crab fled in a panic too. After chasing it for a while, Andy stumbled and came to a stop. The crab kept running ahead, completely unaware that its pursuer had stopped.

Rage-Scale Beach. Andy knew this place. From his knowledge of World of Warcraft in his previous life, he knew that beneath the deep waters off this beach lived a group of monsters mutated from High Elves: the Naga!

Andy didn't dare chase the crab any farther. If he ran into those vicious, bloodthirsty creatures, he'd be done for. The big crab stopped too and strutted around triumphantly. Andy gave it the finger, cursed it for being lucky, then turned to head back.

Just then, the water ahead of him suddenly parted in a line. Andy muttered a curse and turned to run. After a few steps, he sneaked a couple of glances behind him—and nearly lost his wits. Two huge Naga were howling as they chased after him. Two of their six arms clutched a massive trident.

"Thud!"

Andy stared in shock at the tip of the trident protruding from his chest. His legs buckled, and he sank to his knees. "That was a pretty good throw," he mumbled, blood bubbling from his mouth.

Andy felt his consciousness grow hazier and hazier, while the world before him blurred. At last, it was as if he'd fallen into a bottomless abyss—or was floating through an endless universe filled with starlight.

"Andy, wake up!" A voice called him back to consciousness.

Andy slowly opened his eyes. The brilliant white light hurt them, so he squinted until he'd adjusted to it, then opened them fully. A casually dressed old man smiled warmly down at him.

Andy was startled. His mind couldn't keep up. First he'd inexplicably transmigrated to Azeroth, then he'd been killed by a Naga's trident, and now where was he?

"Who are you, old man?" Andy asked warily.

"Me? In your words, I'm a god." The old man smiled. "Or, if you prefer, you can call me the Creator God!"

"Creator God!" Andy gaped. "You expect me to believe that?"

"You don't believe me?" the old man said. He reached out, produced a sausage from thin air, and stuffed it into his mouth, making Andy watch and swallow hungrily.

"You can do magic tricks?" Andy asked, rolling his eyes.

"Cough, cough..." The old man choked. "What magic tricks? This is creation! Creation, understand? You foolish human!" Seemingly offended, the old man scolded him loudly.

Andy didn't care. He just kept rolling his eyes at him.

"Don't you want to know where you are?" The old man finished his sausage and smiled again, looking like a tempter.

"Of course I do! Tell me already! How did I get to Azeroth, and what is this place?" Andy leaped to his feet and shouted.

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

"Ah!" Andy's mouth could have fit several eggs. "I—I—damn it!" he shouted, then lunged at him.

"Oh-ho!" The old man turned aside and dodged him. "Don't make me use force, or I'll turn you into a pig. Believe me?"

"Damn it!" Andy refused to back down.

"You're beyond teaching!" The old man tossed out a phrase from the classical language of Andy's past life, pointed at him, and in an instant Andy was snorting like a pig.

"Are you going to fight me now? Do you believe me now? Do you know you were wrong? Nod if you do!" The old man tapped him on the head.

The pig Andy had become reluctantly nodded twice. Only then did the old man smile with satisfaction and point at him again. Andy turned back, though he was now standing on all fours.

"Grandpa God, why did you send me to Azeroth?" Andy was nearly in tears.

"I'm not Grandpa God. I'm the Creator God!" the old man said with his chin raised.

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

"What do you mean, Grandpa? Do I look that old?" the old man said.

"Well, why don't you turn into a mirror and take a look?" Andy said cautiously.

The old man reached behind himself and actually pulled out a mirror. He studied his reflection. "Well, look at that. Who's this? Why does he look so old?" He glanced at Andy, who was giving him a look that said, "That's exactly what you look like," and cried, "A blunder, a blunder! What a blunder! Why did I turn into an old man this time? Ugh!"

Andy privately wondered if there was something wrong with the old man's head.

"Back to business." The old man's expression suddenly turned serious. "You died in your original world. So, according to the laws of creation, your soul goes to another world to complete another life. That's how it works! Of course, the decision is mine. Only I can decide where you go after you die."

"Then why Azeroth?" Andy asked miserably.

"Because your head was full of Warcraft and stuff. It would've been a waste not to send you there, wouldn't it?" the old man said solemnly.

"So what happens to me now?" Andy asked again.

"You're dead!" the old man said. "Because you died too quickly in the new world, you'll get a chance to come back to life. You only get one, of course. Get stronger as quickly as you can, or if you die again, who knows where I'll send you."

"How am I supposed to get stronger? I don't know how to do anything! Creator God, even characters in Warcraft get starting skills. How am I supposed to survive when I don't know a thing?" Andy complained.

"That's true. All right, I'll give you a little something out of my own pocket. Come here and hold out your head!" the old man said.

Andy did as he was told and held out his head. The old man casually poked him on the forehead. "There. That should do it."

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

"You'll find out later," the old man said.

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

"Isn't that your favorite race?" the old man said. "You have too many questions. You should go back now. I've got plenty of work to do here!" At last, the old man's patience ran out. He pointed at Andy.

That dizzying sensation surged into Andy's head again. He knew he was about to leave, and shouted, "One last question! How did I die before?"

The old man's voice came from the endless void: "You choked while drinking water! Are you happy with that way to die?"

"Damn it!"