The Outergod's Avatar-Chapter 48: The Corpse Market

The heat was the first thing he noticed. It burned against his skin like a punishment, the sun hanging high and merciless above. Izikel groaned softly, his body aching in ways he couldn’t even count. The hard metal bars pressed into his back as he stirred, and it took him several moments to understand he was inside a moving cage.

His eyes fluttered open, the world blurry and spinning. His dry lips cracked as he tried to speak, but no sound came out. Off in the distance, the trees of the Maw Forest shrank into the horizon, fading with every jolt and rattle of the makeshift prison.

They were leaving it behind.

A sharp pain throbbed in his temple, pounding like a drum in his skull.

He blinked away the haze and looked around. Lyzah sat beside him, her face pale, her arms bound tightly. Across from them, Felvin leaned against the bars, his breathing shallow, sweat rolling down his face in sheets. The cage lurched forward, dragged by a wild horse with vacant eyes and foam at its mouth, accompanied by five men.

"What... what happened?" Izikel’s voice was hoarse, brittle, barely more than a whisper. His thoughts were fragmented, flashing between blurred memories and phantom pain. "Where are we?"

"The Wildlands," Felvin muttered, the words thick with despair.

And just like that, it came back.

That bastard Raynoel had sold them.

He had handed them over to the Heretics like cattle.

Izikel’s heart sank.

"Do you know where they’re taking us?" he asked.

Felvin gave a grim shake of his head. "Nope."

But then his expression changed—his eyes fluttered, struggling to stay open. "I think... I might have an idea..." His voice cracked with a dry cough, and he grimaced as a fresh wave of pain rolled through him. Whatever affliction had gotten to him had clearly worsened.

Time passed slowly as they traveled. Eventually, they descended into a narrow stone valley, the jagged cliffs looming high on either side. Paths split off at multiple intervals, twisting like veins into the rock. It was a maze—natural or carved, Izikel couldn’t tell. The group made a few turns, guided by experience or instinct, before stopping at a wide clearing bustling with noise and movement.

A market.

But not just any market.

Izikel’s stomach turned.

It was crowded with people from across the continent. Most were heretics, some of them looked like humanoid animals, known as Beastmen.

But the rest? The rest were in cages.

"This is a Corpse Market," Felvin whispered, his face paling with horror. "It’s real... I thought it was just a tale to scare children. But it’s real."

Izikel’s mouth went dry.

Felvin continued, "The stories described a place where the Heretics sold humans like livestock. Where people were bartered for crystals. In this place all you had to do was to be in a cage and you are no more considered a person,"

And now they were part of it.

The sun dipped lower, casting an orange glow across the chaos. The golden light filtered between the jagged rocks, stretching long shadows over the beaten and broken.

Izikel saw women huddled in corners of cages, their eyes vacant. Children clutched their knees, some whimpering, others completely silent. The stench of blood, sweat, and rot filled the air. There was no mistaking it—this place was built on suffering.

Guards with crude weapons patrolled the perimeter, eyeing the merchandise with cruel satisfaction.

Their cage stopped.

"Get the fuck out," barked one of the men as he unlocked the door.

Izikel obeyed, wincing as his sore muscles protested. Lyzah followed behind him, eyes wide, trembling.

"I said move!" the young man growled again and yanked Felvin by the arm. The druid stumbled forward and collapsed onto the ground, gasping.

The young man moved forward and began gagging them one by one, muttering something about ’protocol.’ 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

"Hey, careful with the merchandise," a voice called out. A tall man with crooked teeth and long robes stepped into view—clearly the leader of the group of five men that had just transported them,

"You know the rules. No corpses at the Corpse Market."

"Dead meat spoils faster," he added with a sneer, slapping the boy lightly. "How many times must I tell you?"

"Sorry, father. It won’t happen again."

The older man sighed. "I would have loved to keep them for myself but, we are going to make a fortune selling these Divine Druids... but we can keep the boy for ourselves, the saint did say we should make sure he was dead," A sinister grin spread across the man’s face.

"May Mawgath bless the kind saint who let us go," the boy chimed.

"Father, this one looks sick," he added, nudging Felvin with his foot.

"Don’t worry. It’s a Druid. I heard they heal themselves. If he dies, we can just sell of his body parts it all contains divinity after all,"

They dragged Izikel, Lyzah and Felvin toward a wooden shed and shoved them inside. Their wrists were tied behind their backs, and Felvin was chained by the neck like a dog. The door slammed shut.

Silence fell.

"Izikel," Lyzah whispered, her voice barely audible. "What’s going to happen to us?"

He swallowed hard. "I don’t know."

"Are they going to eat us?"

"I..." He hesitated. "I don’t know."

There were whimpers outside—soft and heartbreaking. Children crying. A woman begging. The sharp crack of a whip. Silence again.

"Izikel?"

"Yeah?" he replied, voice low.

"I’m scared."

He didn’t answer right away.

"Me too."

That night, as the sky turned black and the stars dared not shine, Izikel awoken at the sound of footsteps.

The door creaked open.

The Heretics were back.

The three other men that traveled with them, their faces were twisted in anticipation. Izikel felt his blood turn to ice.

"Let’s get this over with before the boss notices," one of them said.

They had hunger in their eyes. But not the kind food could satisfy.

"I get to use her first," one whispered.

"She’s so pretty... I’m going to enjoy this."

Izikel froze.

They were here to rape her.

His stomach churned.

"Get away from her!" Felvin struggled weakly but he couldn’t do anything against the chain on his neck.

Lyzah began to struggle, whimpering, tears running down her face.

Izikel clenched his fists. No. He wouldn’t let it happen.

He didn’t care if it drained his soul energy.

Even with his hands tied behind his back, he began to summon it.

The gun materialized in a shimmer of soullight—its weight familiar.

He twisted his wrists, aimed as best he could.

The bang echoed like thunder.

The bullet tore through one of the men’s hands. He screamed and dropped to the ground, writhing.

"AHHH!! WHAT—WHAT THE FUCK?!"

"WHAT DID YOU DO, YOU BASTARD?!" another roared, eyes wide.

Izikel dismissed the gun in a flash before they could see it.

"He pierced me with some kind of... arrow!" the injured man howled.

"It doesn’t matter!" shouted one of them. "That noise will bring the boss. We have to go!"

The others hesitated.

"Fine," the wounded man growled. "But I’ll take a little something."

He stormed over to Izikel.

"No—wait—!"

Too late.

The knife flashed. Pain exploded.

"AHHHHHH!" Izikel screamed as the man sliced off his index finger.

The Heretic laughed, holding the bloody finger aloft like a prize. "This will serve me nicely."

Then he vanished into the night.

Izikel lay trembling on the floor, blood pooling around his hand, Lyzah crying softly beside him.

This place was hell.

And if they wanted to survive it, they’d need more than patience.

They’d need a miracle.