The Outergod's Avatar-Chapter 92: Void -

"Today as I fought with Dremlin, I found myself asking why I was doing it. I can hardly see any difference between the first day we started and now. Dremlin says I’ve made progress but I can hardly see it. I’m just glad that I won’t have to go through that torture tomorrow."

Izikel paused, lowering his quill. It was the first time he’d written about himself in the diary, and he wasn’t sure if he was doing it right.

"Even if Dremlin didn’t give me much of a choice, it wasn’t really a tough life. I always imagined myself in these kind of situations when reading manga or watching anime, where the main character puts himself through dedicated training only to come out stronger. I used to ask myself would I do it? Would I be able to put myself through that kind of routine to better my life and as a very realistic person I concluded that the answer was no. If I could, I wouldn’t have to wait until I’m in a fantasy world to do it, I could have put in the work to fix my life instead of..."

He stopped and laid back on the bed facing the ceiling as memories from his past haunted him. Tomorrow was the big day, the day they departed for the crusade.

He was feeling nervous, making sleeping a bit difficult. So he thought writing will give him a bit of confidence. Confidence like that of Azrael, the false prophet.

But now it had left him with a bitter taste in his mouth.

"This time... I’ll put in the effort," He whispered to himself.

There were a lot of things he regretted in his past life. He wasn’t going to let this second chance go to waste and to do that he couldn’t die at all cost.

"I’m not going to die. No matter what," he muttered, closing his eyes.

Then, after a beat, he chuckled.

"And if I do... I hope at least that will be the end."

.....

The day had finally come.

The morning sun shone cold and bright across the Saint Quarters.

Before the towering walls stood 352 warriors, clad in glinting steel and silver—rank upon rank, shoulder to shoulder like a sea of iron.

Izikel stood among them in fitted leather armor, dwarfed in size but not in spirit. The sight reminded him of a scene straight out of a war movie.

This was the union of two battalions—one under Saint Raynoel, the other under Sophia.

Raynoel’s silver armor gleamed beneath a deep blue cloak, the Argenthex emblem—a cross merged with an arrowhead—etched proudly across it. Sophia stood beside him, calm in her usual battle gear.

Izikel’s gaze wandered across the crowd—until it landed on a familiar, unwanted sight.

Dressed like the other Druids, she beamed as she spotted him, striding over with an annoying bounce in her step. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

"Guess what?" she grinned.

Izikel sighed, hoping that she wouldn’t say what he already expected to hear.

"My mentor decided I should come on the crusade!"

"And why would he do that?"

"Why not? I’m a Divine Believer—and I can protect myself."

"But do you even realize how dangerous this is?"

She shrugged. "If it’s really that dangerous, why’d they let someone like you come?"

Izikel blinked. She had a point. A frustratingly fair one.

Just then, another figure approached—tall, with flowing golden hair and a gentle presence.

"Good morning, Lord Izikel," Fenvil greeted with a courteous bow.

Izikel gave a small nod, recognizing the healer who’d visited him before. Sophia had mentioned he was in her battalion.

’So this is the mentor she mentioned,’ Izikel thought, glancing at Lyzah. ’Her father’s likely too busy with the Old Tree to watch over her. Or even spend any time with her... I guess we’re alike in a way’

Suddenly, Raynoel stepped forward and raised his voice,

"The commander of the 17th Legion of the Lunar Kingdom—the Silver Sword Saint, Flavius Argenthex."

All eyes turned toward the man stepping forward—tall, regal, and cold as moonlight.

When Flavius spoke, his voice carried like a blade through still air.

"Brothers and sisters of the Moon... hear me now."

"Today, we do not march as mere soldiers. We march as the wrath of the Lunar Kingdom—the sharpened edge of divine justice. The heretics rise with blasphemy in their lungs and rebellion in their hearts—but we rise with purpose, unity, and the blessing of the Silver Goddess of the Enchanted Night."

"Look to the sky—our Queen watches from her silver throne. Every beat of our boots echoes in the stars. Every blade we draw bears the weight of our ancestors, the will of the kingdom, and the sacred oaths we took beneath her gaze."

"So raise your weapons. Steel your hearts. And march—not as men, not as women, but as Saints of the Lunar Moon."

"Let the heretics learn what it means to stand against the Lunar Kingdom."

A thunderous chorus broke out across the ranks,

"Yes, sir!"

Their morale surged like a tide rising to drown the world.

Raynoel gave the final order. "Saints of the Lunar Kingdom, we move at once!"

The march began.

Izikel turned to follow Lyzah and Fenvil—but was stopped by a voice that cut like winter wind.

"Lord Izikel."

The deep baritone of Flavius froze him mid-step. A chill crawled up his spine.

’What does this man want now?’

Flavius approached, eyes unreadable. "I wanted to have a few words with you before you depart."

Today as I fought with Dremlin, I found myself asking why I was doing it. I can hardly see any difference between the first day we started and now. Dremlin says I’ve made progress but I can hardly see it. I’m just glad that I won’t have to go through that torture tomorrow."

Izikel paused, lowering his quill. It was the first time he’d written about himself in the diary, and he wasn’t sure if he was doing it right.

"Even if Dremlin