The Outergod's Avatar-Chapter 51: A Great Calamity

"Father, please wait. Lord Mawgath told me that you would try to stop me because you don’t understand my purpose. But if I don’t get these people out of here, a great calamity will befall all of us," Jun pleaded, desperation leaking into his voice.

"You idiot," the one who had cut off Izikel’s finger said, shaking his head with a sneer. "Why would Lord Mawgath choose an idiot like you?"

The man’s bullet wound was still there, though less visible now. It hadn’t healed completely, but enough to make him seem more menacing than weak.

"An idiot like you could never be my child," the boss spat coldly. "I said, kill the bastard."

Watching the family feud unfold, Izikel almost felt guilty. Almost. But it was hard to pity someone when your own life was still dangling on the edge of a knife.

’I almost feel bad for this guy,’ Izikel thought, casting a pitiful glance toward Jun.

’I guess this is what happens when you blindly believe in something. Anyone can use that belief to control you.’

But it wasn’t like people had a choice. Humans were born without a manual, relying only on the ones other humans wrote. And when gods existed—when they truly, tangibly existed—the higher purpose became whatever those gods claimed it was.

If you spent your whole life religiously serving a being, it became second nature to follow its commands without hesitation. Izikel had seen it back on Earth—cult leaders, fake prophets, charismatic madmen. People would do anything for a higher cause, even if it wasn’t theirs to begin with.

That’s why he had chosen Jun. He looked like someone who believed in his ideals, someone who’d walk through fire if he was convinced it mattered.

Aleo, he was younger and looked like the easiest to manipulate.

He knew if he framed the journey as something deeply personal—something no one else could possibly understand—it would be nearly impossible to talk Jun out of it.

’If only he knew...’ Izikel chuckled softly, then snapped back to reality as he noticed the Heretics closing in again.

’Well, I guess it doesn’t matter now. We still ended up back here,’ he sighed.

"Please, you all have to listen to me!" Jun begged the approaching figures, his voice cracking. "Don’t go against the wrath of Lord Mawgath!"

His passion was infectious. It made Izikel briefly wonder if maybe Lord Mawgath really had appeared to him in a dream. Jun wasn’t acting. He truly believed it.

’Even if I die here, at least I get to watch this madness unfold. That’s gotta count as some kind of final comedy.’

But the Heretics didn’t care about comedy. They were advancing.

Then Felvin stepped forward, breathing heavily, his expression twisted with pain and anger.

"You monsters... I’m going to kill all of you."

Dark veins had formed under his skin, running up his neck like corrupted roots. It looked painful—excruciating even—but it didn’t stop him. With a wave of his hand, a massive vine burst from the ground and swept several men off their feet in a single, violent strike.

The force of it was terrifying.

Felvin collapsed to his knees, vomiting up thick, black, oily sludge.

"Felvin!" Lyzah cried out, rushing to him.

Izikel ran forward too, scanning the battlefield. The path forward was blocked by Heretics. Their only choice was to retreat—back into the valley. But even that wouldn’t last long. They would catch up. Then what?

This trick, this distraction that he managed to pull off with Kamal’Jun was a one time use move, and it wouldn’t work again. This was their only shot at escape.

"Let’s go back—before the dust settles," he said urgently, crouching beside Felvin to help him up. But Felvin’s body wouldn’t cooperate. He collapsed again, groaning, squirming in pain.

"Felvin, what’s wrong?" Lyzah asked, her voice tight with fear.

Izikel was worried too. Very worried. The black veins had now crept up the side of Felvin’s face.

"Izikel... Lyzah... you both should find a way out of here," Felvin said through clenched teeth, struggling to remain upright. "I’ll hold them back."

"No," Lyzah snapped. "I’m not leaving you."

Izikel shook his head. "We can’t just leave you behind."

Even if it was the logical choice—even if it gave them a better chance to survive—he couldn’t do it. They’d already abandoned Sophia once, and that only got them this far.

He hated hearing those words: "Leave me behind." But...

It might really be their only chance.

If Felvin could stall the Heretics long enough, he and Lyzah might be able to escape. But what kind of person would do that? Abandon a friend, a comrade, to die so they could live?

Definitely not a hero.

A hero would stay. A hero would fight. A hero would make a last stand and protect everyone.

Izikel looked down at Felvin and then over at Lyzah.

He sighed, bitterly.

’But the truth is... I’m not a hero.’

He grabbed Lyzah by the wrist and started pulling her away.

"Izikel, what are you doing?!" she cried, trying to resist.

"We have to get out of here, now! Maybe we can hide somewhere deeper in the valley," he said, gritting his teeth as he pulled harder.

The dust was settling. The Heretics were regaining their bearings. The moment was slipping away.

Lyzah’s eyes welled up. "What about Felvin?! We can’t just leave him!"

"You have to, Lyzah," Felvin wheezed. Somehow, he was on his feet again, leaning on one knee. "At least you... get to make it out of here alive. If I die giving you that chance, then it means something. Then I won’t die in vain."

"Izikel," he added, "please... do everything in your power to get her to safety."

"Now... GO!"

Lyzah cried, but she stopped resisting.

They ran, Izikel dragging her along. Behind them, vines shot up from the ground—whipping through the air with deadly precision, sending men flying like ragdolls. The raw force of it was staggering.

It was baffling that this destructive power was coming from a single Druid in his second stage of Divinity.

Suddenly Izikel felt a wave of energy or rather the sudden change in energy. When he took one look back his heart sank...

Felvin was impaled, hanging from a Heretic’s sword, the tip jutting out through his back. Blood dripped from his mouth as his body went limp.