The Outergod's Avatar-Chapter 66: A Deal

That evening, Izikel lay under the tall, crooked tree at the back of the house, its branches casting long shadows across the ground as the last light of the sun dimmed into twilight. The wind was gentle, brushing the grass and rustling the leaves above him. He closed his eyes, listening to the world around him—the distant chirp of insects, the soft hoot of an owl waking early, the occasional sound from the people inside the manor.

The random sounds outside always had some sense of harmony. It was strange, how nature seemed to exist in peaceful rhythm, even when everything else felt like it was falling apart.

He sighed and opened his eyes.

’So does that mean I’ve given up on living?’ he wondered.

The thought lingered, heavy but calm. He had made his decision. All he could do now was wait until the flames of the Altar went out.

’Well, it doesn’t matter to me, as long as I know it was my choice.’

That mattered more than people realized. Being able to choose how you died—it wasn’t something everyone had. From a certain point of view, it was a kind of privilege. A quiet power in a world that had taken so much from him already.

He thought of Felvin. The way he had died—ripped from the world in panic and pain. Or the others, lost to the jaws of a Maw beast. Or worse—those caught by heretics. Compared to all of that, this was peaceful. Almost serene. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

’I wonder if I’ll just drop dead immediately the flames finally go out.’

His jaw clenched. That stung more than he expected.

It wasn’t just the idea of dying. It was the feeling. The helplessness. Like he was back in that same cycle from his last life—stuck, waiting, surrendering. He hated it. Hated how familiar it felt.

The crunch of footsteps nearby drew him from his thoughts. He didn’t move. Just kept staring at the canopy above as the rhythm of the steps slowed, each one deliberate.

Then a shadow fell over his face, blocking the fading light.

He squinted and saw Lyzah standing above him, arms folded, her expression unreadable.

"So this is where you’ve been hiding all this while?"

He sighed and turned his head to the side. "I’m not in the mood to talk, Lyzah. Go away."

She didn’t. Instead, she lowered herself down beside him, resting on her knees first, then settling into the grass with a patient calm. She didn’t speak. Just sat in silence, as though waiting for the air to shift in her favor.

He thought about telling her to leave again. But something about the stillness made him hesitate.

After a long pause, she finally broke the quiet.

"Izikel," she said gently, "thank you... for protecting me when we were taken by the heretics."

He exhaled sharply through his nose. "There’s no need to thank me. Sophia was the one who saved us. Not me."

"No, don’t say that." Her voice was firm, trembling slightly. "If it weren’t for you—and Felvin—I wouldn’t have even made it that far. I know that."

He didn’t respond. Just looked away, jaw tight.

"I wanted to help," she continued softly, "but... I couldn’t do anything."

Her voice cracked, and she lowered her gaze to her lap, fingers twisting together. He could hear the guilt in her words, the shame. She was trying to keep it together, but her silence screamed.

"Weren’t you scared?" she asked suddenly, voice fragile.

He turned his head again, meeting her eyes for the first time.

"Scared of what?" he said. "They were going to hurt us, no matter what we did. Fear wouldn’t have changed that. Maybe we could have been afraid of the pain, but even that wouldn’t make it go away."

He paused, then added with a tired edge, "The only thing you can do is what you can—anything else is just waiting for death."

There was something deeper in his voice now. A tiredness that was older than his years, heavy and worn. She didn’t speak, letting his words sink in.

"I guess it’s just something you learn as you grow older," he muttered.

They sat in silence again, the tree rustling softly above them. The moment was still. Unspoken things drifted between them like unseen dust.

Then, after a beat, Lyzah spoke again.

"Can I ask you another question?"

He groaned. "You didn’t ask permission the first time. Why start now?"

She leaned in, her gaze sharp.

"Answer me honestly, Izikel. Are you a Divine believer?"

His eyes shot open. He sat up slightly. "Where did you get that idea?"

"That weapon you used against the heretics—I’ve never seen anything like it. No ordinary person could summon that. So either you’re a Divine believer... or something worse."

"Lyzah—"

"That’s not all," she said, cutting him off. "When that boy came back to free us, you were the only one who wasn’t surprised. It was like you expected him."

He cursed inwardly. ’Damn it. She noticed that too.’

"You definitely have some kind of power," she pressed. "Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. But in return, you have to make a deal with me."

He narrowed his eyes. "What kind of deal?"

"I need someone to train with. And I’m sure you do too."

He studied her expression. It was sincere. Desperate, maybe. But not dishonest.

"And what makes you think I want to train?"

"If you didn’t, then you probably don’t understand what you’ve gotten yourself into."

He frowned. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

She looked him dead in the eyes. "The world of Divine believers is about strength. If not to enforce your beliefs, then to protect yourself from other people’s."

She folded her arms again. "This deal lets us train in secret. No one needs to know. But it keeps both of us alive."

"That doesn’t explain why you want to train in secret," he said cautiously. "Can’t you ask someone more experienced like Sophia?"

Her voice dropped. "Because I’m not allowed to train."

She looked away. "After the accident, the only way they let me live was if I never touched a weapon again. Druids aren’t supposed to be fighting after all,"

Then she looked at him again, quietly determined. "But I want to learn. And if you don’t help me... then I’ll have no reason to keep your secret."

There it was.

He sat there, letting her words settle. She wasn’t just asking—she was cornering him. But he understood. Her punishment wasn’t just a ban from battle. It was a ban from growth. From becoming more than what they said she could be.

"What happened to Druids wanting peace?" he asked, "why don’t you just stick to healing,"

She countered with a simple question. "Why should I need a reason to want to be able to protect myself?"

He nodded slowly.

"Fine," he said. "But you have to promise not to ask any more questions about my power, and I choose the schedule. And also if I say I’m too tired, you leave me alone."

Lyzah smiled softly and gave a nod.

"Deal."