The Abbot stood meditating in his bedroom, the rise and fall of his chest so slight it was almost impossible to see. The bedroom wasn’t really a bedroom though. There was no bed, just blank stone walls, barely enough room to stand, and a simple door. It had been the previous Abbot’s broom closet.

  Still, it was the place where the current Abbot chose to meditate most frequently. He would sleep there too - on the rare occasions when he required it - always standing up of course.

  At the moment, the Abbot was activating one of his three holy skills: Celestial Attunement. The Rare Tier skill plunged him into the spiritual world, sending pulses of pure energy through him, revitalizing him, strengthening him, removing the odious taint of the material plane.

  Once again, the Abbot wished he could ascend and leave this disgusting world full of loathsome creatures and matter behind. He would leave them along with the restricting husk that was his body and join his beloved lord Arcadeus in the glory of the spiritual realm.

  Alas, the Abbot chided himself, now is not the time. There is much work to do, souls to save. The ignorant masses won’t free themselves after all.

  A change in the celestial energies caused the Abbot to look back inwards. Something was happening. His heart went from nearly catatonic to rapid-fire beating in moments.

  A divine revelation! He realized. He redoubled his concentration on the skill until a message popped up on his interface screen.

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  C-Class System Announcement: Citizen Felix Chandler has been cursed by the god of this realm, Lord Arcadeus.

  Ice blue eyes shot open, the vigor and energy in them contrasting sharply with the withered husk that was the Abbot’s mortal coil.

  Glorious, thought the Abbot. With one sinewy leg, he kicked the door. It exploded off of its hinges and out into the room beyond. Wearing only his usual loin cloth, the Abbot strode out after it.

  His piercing gaze swept the room which had previously been the former abbot's actual bedchambers. He had scoured the bedchamber of every bauble, nick-knack, and luxury his predecessor had wantonly flaunted. The wooden shelves were burned alongside the books that they contained. The curtains, and the small cot also went into the fire.

  The room was as barren as the broom closet, with one exception. At its center, taking up a large section of wall, was an ornate framed oil painting. It depicted a heavenly figure, standing eyes closed and palms out, dressed in a simple loin cloth like the Abbot's. Muscles gleamed beneath blue skin, and a long flowing mane of lustrous hair cascaded down to his shoulders.

  "My Lord Arcadeus," the Abbot cried out, his gaze fixated on his one and only true possession. His voice began to quiver with religious fervor. "I have heard your divine order and know it for what it truly is."

  Setting his jaw and mirroring the open palmed stance of his god, the Abbot issued a resounding decree.

  "It is time for your loyal servants to punish the wicked for their sinful wants. It is time to liberate all from the temptation of materialism. At long last, we of the Association of Arcadian Ascetics crusade!"