The Wrath of the God of Skin Lotion

A week had now passed since Jason had been forcefully transmigrated into the Isles of the Gods. Luckily for him, it had been a peaceful life, training often, trying out new dishes with Eve, and sparring. He had maintained his regimen of alleyway sprints, max rep push ups — currently at 25, and could now comfortably run a 5km without passing out.

He also wanted to learn a little bit of martial arts but decided to prioritize building his flexibility base and conditioning his shins, which he did against the Elderwood Oak not far from the alley. He would kick 100 times a day, pushing himself to the point of numbness but stopping just before he lost a life. After all, he had already lost two lives to exhaustion and overtraining, and another when Eve had joined him in kicking practice and accidentally split the Elderwood Oak in half, crushing the unaware hate reader.

In fact, after his week of training and exploration, Jason was rather confident that he could survive in almost any situation. He stayed far from the fruit and vegetable vendors; he ran at Mach 6 speed whenever he heard the beautiful melody of clashing swords; and he avoided people with staffs like the plague.

Jason wiped the sweat from his forehead and sat down beside the young girl as they finished their morning routine. The black-haired teenager looked happily at the azure blue eyed girl and grinned widely at the thought of their brother / sister relationship. Over the last week, the young vampire had begun to open up and joke around a bit more, reducing the distance between them and fostering a relationship closer to that of a real brother and sister. In addition, the hate reader pampered Eve, buying her the occasional snacks with his servants' money, and protected the innocent girl from creepy onlookers when they explored the town.

"NO," the hate reader said in a firm tone.

"Big Brother…pweaseeeee," Eve begged with a pout, crossing her arms. "It's not fair….Why do they get to eat it, but I can't?"

"Eve, you know we don't have much money left," Jason said as he fiddled with his remaining three gold coins.

"But the pastry only costs 1 gold coin," Eve said innocently. "And…and if I ask the nice old grandpa, I'm sure he can give us a discount!"

"No means no, Eve," he replied sternly. "We need to keep some coins in case we run into any issues on our trip."

"Ughhh but the pastry will be yummier than the trip," she continued. "Did you see that girl's face yesterday after she ate it? She seemed so happy!"

Jason sighed. He hated being the bad guy, but his time on Earth had made him a master of frugality. Starting from the age of three, his mother taught him many valuable personal finance lessons and engrained within him the importance of saving: 'Always make sure you have rainy day money!' she would say with a smile.

"For the last time, Eve. No. We promised yesterday to save a bit more until we find your father."

"B-But…"

A sharp feeling of guilt embedded itself into the hate reader's chest as he looked at his adorable little sister's face, filled with disappointment. He took a step back and patted her on the head, ignoring the sense of reason screaming in his head to save.

'Well, it should be fine just this once,' he thought. 'I'm sorry Mom; I will stop wasting money in the future.'

"Alright fine," Jason replied, a small grin cracking on his face. "Just this once. But make sure to ask him for a discount," he added.

"Yayyy! Let's go! Hurry, Hurry! We'll be late, slowpoke," Eve shouted in quick succession as she jumped to her feet.

The young vampire sprinted into town as fast as she could, with Jason trailing behind. As they approached the town center, they saw a long, winding line of expectant customers waiting outside Butterpond's Bakery, with the sun already shining down on them.

"My bad, Eve," Jason said apologetically.

"It's okay, Big Brother. We can just wait in line."

The teenager walked toward the back of the line and caught sight of a group of white hooded members, passing out flyers to the large group of pastry lovers and asking for offerings. Etched on their robes' sleeves were the words "Disciples of the God of Skin Lotion," and just as Jason thought, "what a scam," his eyes widened as he saw a familiar notification.

"First Hidden Curse Condition: Hater must repeat his comments in front of said individuals."

"How do people believe a religion as stupid as this?" Jason's mouth moved on its own shouting, waking up everyone in the town square and shocking his fellow townsfolk waiting in line. "What kind of psycho writer needs to exist in this world for everyone to be obsessed with skin lotion? What use is beautiful skin if you die in war anyways? Say 'Oh nooo, my skin?'"

Now, as a confused reader similar to our beloved hate reader, you may be wondering what exactly this religion is, and why all the characters seem to believe in it. The reason is very simple; the Islesians or the residents of the Isles often train in highly concentrated areas of spiritual power and have a very healthy diet, consisting of foods like dupigs and raskulture berries, rife with nourishing qualities for both the organs and the mind.

As such, most residents have extremely healthy internal organs and strong immune systems, meaning that over the centuries, people began to measure a person's overall health not through the health of the complete body but instead solely through the external. And what better way to see that...than the skin?

For this reason, moles, rashes, and acne were considered the mark of the impoverished, the diseased, and the unwanted, while clear and beautiful skin was considered the most prestigious and divine.

In turn, Jason's irritated comment pissed off two parties, one being the group of disciples of the God of Skin Lotion and the other being the God of Skin Lotion himself.

The disciples glared at Jason's horrifying skin condition and shuddered as they saw…the face of a growing teenage boy. Maybe an eye booger, a small rash, a few blackheads, and a tiny pimple. Though these disciples were the disciples of a God, they were a weak and pathetic bunch that cared only for aesthetics, much unlike the warriors who followed Ares and the magicians who followed Athena.

To make matters worse, these disciples could only beautify people's faces, with the most senior and experienced disciples able to remove up to three or four pimples a day with the help of some pimple cream and the rest of the members only able to help people moisturize their skin with standard lotion. However, the problem that residents faced was that access to skin lotion was restricted to the God of Skin Lotion and his disciples, thereby ensuring the scam persisted for centuries.

Having heard Jason's comment on the stupidity of his power, the God of Skin Lotion paced around his throne room tossing vials of lotion at the wall. "Such an ugly man dares to piss me off?!?" he roared. "I am not a fighting man. I know how to make connections instead, and at least a few of your favorite gods and goddesses swing by my house to pick up a jar of lotion and follow me back on Instagram every so often."

Look. Ok. The God knew that he was simply a minor god, but how dare a lowly HUMAN say that about his faith!

Jason looked hesitantly toward the sky, expecting a thunderbolt as had happened the last time the curse unleashed, but unfortunately, this god's vindictive action was a little different. This god liked to fight through dirty tricks and diseases, and his master plan was to give everyone in the town square...four face pimples.

"Hey Eve, look! You're starting to grow…"

"Haha you too Big Brother, now you have five."

"Ouch, it hurts. Don't touch it or I'll pop yours too."

"WAIT NO PLEASE. I'll be good, I promise, Big Brother. Ah! Look over there too! There's over a thousand people with them now."

As Jason turned to look at the growing crowd of pimple-infested Islesians, a snarky voice boomed across the skies. "Jason, you foolish human. How can you possibly deal with such a plague now?" he questioned, laughing heartily. "I have forever cursed you and your loved ones with my strongest ability yet. You will forever and always have at least four pimples on your face."

"ARE YOU STILL LAUGHING NOW, PUNY HUMAN?"

The God of Skin Lotion patted himself on the back for his brilliant plan. He knew that if the Butterpond townspeople wished to become pure again, they needed to beg his disciples for forgiveness and offer luxurious sacrifices to him in return for his mercy.

'I will surely eat well next month,' the chubby god thought as he rubbed his stomach, imagining the various delicacies that would be brought to his temples. 'May they forever fear my wrath!'

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