The Outergod's Avatar-Chapter 47: Heretics (3)

"What took you so long? I was starting to think you came to your senses," one of the Heretics said with a sly grin, stepping forward from the shadows. His face was half-covered by a black marks, and the smirk on his lips made Izikel’s skin crawl.

Izikel narrowed his eyes. He didn’t like how casual the atmosphere was. The Heretics weren’t attacking.

He took a step forward, confused. "Why aren’t they attacking?" he whispered under his breath.

Raynoel, who stood just ahead of him, didn’t bother turning around. His voice came sharp and disgusted. "Don’t fucking speak to me, you sinner."

The Heretic let out a low chuckle. "I’m a sinner? You’re the one letting me go with your people. That doesn’t seem very holy to me."

That was when something clicked. Izikel felt a cold realization crawl up his spine.

"They’re not my people," Raynoel said flatly, eyes cold.

Felvin stepped forward, visibly rattled. "Raynoel... what’s going on? What are they saying? They’re lying, right?"

Raynoel didn’t answer with words at first. Instead, he raised his hand and slapped Felvin hard across the face. The sound cracked through the forest clearing, sending him to the ground.

Izikel’s breath hitched. His body froze. He turned slowly, dread growing with each second.

Raynoel turned to face the Heretics, completely ignoring Izikel now. "I even brought you two extra Druids," he said coolly. "So you’ll have to double the money."

Everything fell into place. Raynoel’s strange insistence on leading them this way. It hadn’t been an accident.

He was selling them.

No... not them. Izikel’s eyes darted to Felvin’s unconscious form, then to Lyzah, who stood frozen with fear. They were bonuses.

The real prize was him.

"Was this your plan all along?" Izikel asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "To sell your Priest?"

Raynoel scoffed, glancing over his shoulder with a sneer. "Shut the fuck up, you dumb kid. Since when were you a priest?"

Izikel clenched his fists. He wanted to scream. He wanted to fight. But his mind was racing too fast. He looked back the way they had come, trees, a narrow path, maybe an opening...

’With my gun, I could make it... I—’

"It won’t be possible," Raynoel said, almost sadly. As if he pitied him. "The girl is stronger than you, and even she knows it’s hopeless."

Izikel turned.

Lyzah was shivering, her arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to hold her body together. The fear in her eyes wasn’t just fear—it was surrender.

"You’ll have a much better chance of surviving once I’m gone," Raynoel continued. "But for now, stay put. Otherwise, I’ll kill you myself."

He turned back to the Heretics. "Where’s are my crystals?"

Even with his back turned, Izikel could feel the weight of Raynoel’s presence, the lethal confidence in his movements. He remembered the fight with the Maw Beast. Raynoel had been the only one he couldn’t see. No matter how hard he looked, it was as if he vanished from sight entirely.

Stealth. Invisibility. Something terrifyingly effective.

’That’s why he allowed Sophia to fight alone,’ Izikel realized. ’He needed her out of the way... he needed control.’

"You arranged all this, when you sent me back to the camp," Izikel said, voice trembling with fury. "And then you made Sophia fight the beast alone... just so you could lead us here."

He took a shaky breath. "But why? Why are you doing this? We could negotiate something. There has to be another way."

Panic began to rise in his chest, but he tried to suppress it. Stay calm... stay calm... think.

’I can’t go with these people,’ he thought. ’They’re cannibals. They would eat me’

His knees gave out. He dropped to the ground.

"Raynoel, please... don’t do this," he begged. "Please."

Lyzah gritted her teeth. For a moment, the fire came back into her eyes. She moved—too fast to track—but Raynoel moved faster. In a flash, he was behind her. A simple tap to the base of her neck, and she collapsed.

Izikel stared, horrified.

Raynoel sighed. "I’m sorry, my lord," he said mockingly. "But it’s too late to turn back now. If you want someone to blame, blame the Queen who allowed a foreigner, Landre Vau-Leotard to become a priest of our enchanting Lunar goddess."

"But... I might change my mind if you answer one question for me."

Izikel looked up, desperate. "Anything. I’ll answer anything. Please, just don’t do this."

"What’s the big secret with your family?"

Izikel froze.

"What?"

Raynoel stepped closer, crouching. "Come on. Everyone knows there’s something. Your bloodline’s far too lucky and some of your ancestors have accomplished great things... too great. So what is it, what is so special about the Vau-Leotard family?"

He couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t.

Oroborn. The name itself sent chills through Izikel’s body.

His family’s secret was that they were servants of an Outer God—an eldritch entity that exists outside of existence. No one was allowed to know that. Revealing it would be no different than cutting his own throat, a quiet way to seal his fate. If he confessed, then Raynoel’s madness would be justified. And Izikel couldn’t let that happen.

So he said nothing.

Raynoel saw the silence and smirked. "I knew it. You wouldn’t say anything. My guess? It’s tied to why your family always dies so young." He stood up again. "Well, it’s not my business anymore. Guess you’ll take that little secret to the grave."

"I would’ve loved to end your dirty bloodline with my own hands," Raynoel added, voice tinged with venom. "But I need deniability. The Inquisitors like to complicate things when important people die, and I need to be able to answer their questions, if they come asking"

"Hey!" he called out. "Where’s my payment?"

The heretics shifted nervously as one stepped forward and handed over a small pouch.

Raynoel opened it, pulling out a crystal. Pink—rare like the one Sophia had on her spear. Divine minerals of this caliber were far more valuable than the standard blue.

He frowned and shook the bag. "This feels... light. You know you’re also paying for your lives, right?"

"But, Saint... this is all we have," the Heretic stammered.

"That’s a shame," Raynoel said, sighing.

In one smooth motion, he drove his blade into the man’s throat.

"Now it’s a fair trade," he added with a cold glare.

Blood sprayed. The Heretic’s body dropped.

Izikel’s heart pounded.

’This monster is not going to let me live...’

There was no more doubt about it.

He summoned his gun, eyes locked on Raynoel.

I’ll fight. Even if I die, I won’t go quietly.

But as he raised the weapon, Raynoel was gone.

Not gone—vanished.

Then he felt it.

A light tap on his neck.

Darkness swallowed him whole, and his body dropped to the floor.