The Outergod's Avatar-Chapter 65: Flames of the Altar (2)

"E-Emergency?" Izikel repeated, stunned. There was enough crystal in that chest to feed the whole village for several months—maybe longer. And Dremlin was now telling him that it was all his?

"If this would not be enough, you can always go and collect from the Saint Quarters," Dremlin said casually. "There’s a private vault there, reserved for your family. No one would question you."

"It is the wealth that has been accumulated over the years," he added, like it was nothing.

"I... don’t think that will be necessary. These will be enough," Izikel said with a small, grateful smile.

With this much crystal available, he wouldn’t have to do anything dangerous.

’Seems like my plot armor has finally kicked in’

"Now... how do I move it?" he muttered, looking at the heavy chest with uncertainty. He couldn’t call the guards to help carry it down to the Altar Cave, and judging by how difficult it was for Dremlin to lift earlier, he didn’t want to trouble the old man again.

"I can assist you with that, Master Izikel," Dremlin offered with a slight bow. "But I can’t do it in this form. I will have to transform into my original form."

"Your... original form?" Izikel echoed, raising a brow.

’Oh... I almost forgot Dremlin isn’t an actual person’ he thought.

Moments later, Izikel was sneaking through the halls of his manor. He moved cautiously, peeking around corners before nodding back at Dremlin, who followed silently behind with the chest of crystals into the study.

It looked almost comical—like the chest had legs of its own, gliding across the ground without assistance. No one was pushing it. It simply slid along the floor.

That was, until Dremlin slipped out from underneath it.

’So this is his true form?’ Izikel thought, his face contorting in shock and curiosity as he watched a black, goo-like substance pool out from beneath the chest.

Dremlin was... some kind of slime creature.

The formless blob slowly began to shift, molding itself, the slime rising and solidifying until it assumed Dremlin’s familiar shape—clothes and all.

"T-thank you," Izikel managed, still processing what he had just witnessed.

"It’s no problem, Master Izikel," Dremlin replied with his usual carefree smile. "Do you need help getting it down to the Altar?"

"No need," Izikel said with gratitude. "I’m sure I can manage."

"But Master Izikel, if you don’t mind me asking..." Dremlin’s tone softened. "What do you need these crystals for?"

Izikel raised an eyebrow. "I figured you already knew I was taking it to the Altar."

"I understand that is your intention," Dremlin said, his tone changing. "I just don’t understand why."

"What do you mean why? Altars are meant to be fed energy to stay alive. So that’s what I’m going to do."

Dremlin fell silent.

His usual easygoing expression vanished. The warmth in his voice disappeared, replaced with something colder, heavier. It was the first time Izikel had ever seen him like this.

"Master Izikel," he said firmly, "you should already know there is only one way to please a chaos god. These stones will have no effect."

"I believe," he continued, voice suddenly sharp, "you wouldn’t trade your life for your conscience."

With that, Dremlin turned and opened the door, leaving without another word.

Izikel stood there, dumbfounded. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

His hands tightened into fists as he forced himself to push the words aside.

"Dremlin doesn’t understand... mine is different," he told himself.

With renewed resolve, he grabbed as many crystals as he could carry and sprinted down the secret stairs to the Altar Cave, his heart pounding louder with every step.

When he arrived, he didn’t hesitate. He threw the crystals into the altar’s flame—watching them vanish into shimmering dust.

But the flames remained the same. No change. No flicker. No response.

He waited a few more minutes. Still nothing.

He ran back, collected more, and returned. Again and again, tossing crystals into the fire—his hope dwindling with every attempt. The result was always the same. The flames stood tall, unaffected. Unfed.

Eventually, he sank to his knees in front of the altar, panting. Sweat dripped from his brow. His hands trembled from exhaustion and realization.

Dremlin was right.

There was only one way to feed the altar. Only one way to keep the flames alive.

The life of another Divine Believer must be sacrificed.

Izikel stared at the fire, his expression hollow.

"This wasn’t what I signed up for... I thought..." He clenched his teeth, his breath shaky. "But the writing was in English. That should’ve meant something. It meant I was different. It meant I wasn’t like the others... right?"

Or could it be...

That Oroborn put it there on purpose?

His eyes widened.

’Was that it? Did Oroborn send it as a way to ensure I ignite the Altar?’

His fists hit the stone floor. The rage in his chest burned hotter than the altar flames.

"The ignition prayer..." he whispered. "It was a trick. The words... he used the language just to manipulate me."

A bitter laugh escaped his lips.

"It convinced me that I would be safe... Not knowing that igniting the Altar would trap me. It would condemn me to a life where I’m forced to kill just to survive..."

He rose slowly, shoulders shaking. His voice grew cold, steady, but heavy with fury.

"I understand it now..."

He looked up into the air, then into the flames—speaking to the god he knew was always listening.

"You probably suspected that if you’d left me alone, I might’ve refused to ignite the Altar. I would’ve walked away. So you manipulated me. You stripped away my choice,"

His voice cracked, but his gaze was fierce.

"And now that I’ve already ignited it... I have no other choice but to kill and turn into a monster just like Azrael."

He stood tall, a fiery defiance burning in his eyes.

"But that’s where you’re wrong."

He took a step closer to the flames.

"You took away my choice once before. I won’t let you do it again."

"I refuse to kill. I have no attachment to this world. Let the flames die. Let it all burn. It would end this pointless struggle, this sick game you’ve dragged me into."

"To me, it would only cost my life," he said quietly. "But I wonder what it would cost you."

He took a deep breath, staring into the fire with calm rage.

"It would ruin all your plans, wouldn’t it? All your effort to get me here... wasted."

He turned away from the altar.

"Then we’ll see if I really have no control."