I Became the Apostle of an Evil God Chapter 12

Van figured he was in for a lecture from Orma, but the deity merely stared at him with a thoroughly displeased grimace before changing the subject. Tilting his head as Van looked at him, Orma made it abundantly clear that he found the whole ordeal an absolute chore.

“Let’s go. Where is it?”

What a surprise—his god was actually cooperating willingly. Though skeptical, Van quickly guided Orma in the direction the bandit had indicated.

The cave wasn’t very far. It was suspicious that the bandits were pacing around outside instead of waiting within the shelter of the cave despite the blistering sun, but Van casually dismounted and approached them anyway.

“Aren’t you going to wait inside, sir?”

“Ahem… Cough.”

Their shifty, evasive glances were highly irregular. Praying that his suspicions were wrong, Van drew closer to them. This cave was clearly the bandits’ stronghold, but Van had stepped into it willingly because he was confident he wouldn’t be bested even if they had ulterior motives. After all, neither he nor Orma could truly die.

As he neared the entrance, however, a metallic stench wafted over, causing Van’s face to instantly screw up in disgust. The nauseating odor—far closer to the stench of fresh blood than mere filth—grew heavier with every step. If Van could smell it, Orma undoubtedly had as well, yet the deity remained quite a distance back, simply watching Van.

“Hey, are these the ones?”

Inside the cave, a man who appeared to be the bandit leader bared a row of rotting teeth in a grin. He boasted a massive, hulking physique that contrasted sharply with the gaunt men around him, and unlike the hesitant thugs outside, the crew surrounding him possessed cruel, menacing glares.

Scanning the cave, the inner circle of cutthroats, and the frail bandits lingering anxiously outside, Van let out a silent sigh.

Ah, please.

He knew he had walked right into a trap. In fact, it was bizarre for bandits to willingly offer up a meeting spot in the first place, so he had pretty much anticipated this much. Whether these people were ruthless criminals or desperate souls being coerced didn’t particularly matter to Van; the only thing dancing in his mind was the hidden quest reward.

If he reformed these wicked bastards and made them worship Orma, would it still count toward the reward? But then again… would Orma just sit back and watch? It would be a miracle if his god didn’t start swinging his spear just to avoid dealing with such freaks.

“W-we did what you asked. Now release my boy!”

“Hmm, two horses… and a pretty decent-looking lad to boot. Not a bad haul. Hey, release that man’s son.”

It appeared they weren’t just plundering property; they were in the business of human trafficking. No wonder the man’s hand had been trembling so violently while clutching that worn-out dagger—he had been forced to turn bandit with his child held hostage.

Regrettably, the face of the father who had sold Van out to save his son drained of all color, twisting into pure despair. From a dark corner of the cave, a corpse-like figure was dragged forward and tossed out into the dirt like a bag of old rags. The father shrieked and wailed a name, confirming that this grotesque, mangled shape was indeed his son.

“Dean said he used the brat for a few experiments. He’s still breathing, though. Take good care of him and he might just live, gahaha!”

Well, his legs seem to be missing from the knee down, Van thought grimally, glancing between the sobbing father cradling his son and the cackling leader.

What should he do? Was he really supposed to reform people like this? Could they even be reformed? Paradoxically, wicked bastards of this caliber were the easiest to break through sheer terror. Would it be better to force them into compliance just to make them believers?

Slightly turning his head, he saw Orma staring blankly at him with a profoundly bored expression. Leaving peacefully didn’t seem like an option anymore, but Van feared that if a brawl broke out, his god would gladly leap into the fray as if he had been eagerly waiting to host a bloody festival.

Right on cue, the bandit leader approached Van with a sinister smirk. Exuding a foul odor, the man tilted his head mockingly, causing Van to look up toward the heavens in sheer exasperation.

Sigh…

Having lived as a holy knight in this world, Van had naturally avoided killing. But if he factored in his past life, he hadn’t exactly lived a spotless existence either. Of course, he had stained his hands with blood out of duty to his country, and back then, his duties frequently included ‘dealing with scum like this.’ It was a task he was entirely accustomed to.

“What’s the matter, scared? Looking up at the sky all of a sudden. Hey, look at me. Let me get a proper look at that face. Hmm, I reckon we could fetch a pretty penny for you.”

Stepping closer, the bandit leader roughly patted Van’s shoulder. Judging by the way he smacked his lips while evaluating Van, the man definitely had the look of a slave trader. Van stared back at him with a completely expressionless face, his mind racing.

There’s absolutely no saving this lot, so I should just eliminate them… If I only evangelize to the people who were coerced, will it still count toward the quest reward? But given the state his son is in, will that father even hear a word I say?

He couldn’t afford to waste any more time. Orma was already radiating intense annoyance over this minor detour in their journey. Perhaps it would be best to just wrap this up roughly and forfeit the quest reward, as disappointing as that would be…

Oblivious to the fact that Van was looking at him like an intricate puzzle to be solved, the bandit leader boldly reached out and grabbed Van by the chin. He roughly jerked Van’s head side to side to inspect his face like a piece of merchandise. Van’s passive, unresisting demeanor and hollow expression made him look deceptively delicate—like someone blissfully unaware of the horror awaiting him. In reality, Van was merely debating whether to end the man’s life right then and there.

Can a guy even look like this? The leader’s gaze shifted as he scrutinized Van. Well, look at that. He’ll fetch an even higher price than I thought. Did he grow up cooped up in a monastery or a temple somewhere? Where did a prize like this roll in from?

“Hey, Dean! Don’t any of you touch this one! We’re going to sell him for a fortune, so—ARRRGH!”

Before the leader could finish his sentence, a terrifyingly sharp gale sliced through the air from behind Van. A split second later, with a wet splat, warm blood splattered across Van’s pale face.

Evidently bored of watching the circus unfold, his god had finally intervened. The hand that had so casually fondled Van’s face was cleanly severed, dropping to the stone floor with a dull thud.

“Ah…”

At Van’s soft exclamation, Orma flinched slightly, as if suddenly conscious of his apostle’s reaction. But the hesitation was fleeting. With a cold, expressionless face, Orma swung his golden spear again—striking the weeping father cradling his broken son, the sadistic bandits who had treated that boy as an experimental subject, and the bandit leader who had dared to utter such blasphemy about selling his apostle.

There was no mercy in his spear.

When the frantic pleas, the agonized shrieks, and the wet sounds of flesh and bone tearing apart finally subsided, no one was left alive outside the cave except for Van and Orma.

Van stood completely still amidst the horrific carnage, only turning to look at Orma once the slaughter had concluded.

He fully expected Orma to complain about why they had bothered coming here, or to launch into an ecstatic sermon about the end of the world, declaring that such bothersome insects deserved to die. Instead, Orma merely glanced at the severed hand on the ground, stepped over to Van, and gently wiped the blood from his cheek.

“Let’s go,” Orma said flatly.

“…Are you not going to say anything else, sir?”

“Like what?”

“….”

“You keep telling me I’m your damn god or whatever. Then consider this divine punishment.”

Divine punishment for daring to lay a finger on his apostle… Van couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle at Orma’s words. At that, Orma shrugged, causing his blood-soaked golden spear to vanish into thin air.

“I am curious about what exactly you were trying to achieve here, but if you don’t want to tell me, I won’t pry.”

Why was Orma acting so surprisingly gentle? Though bewildered, Van chose not to voice the thought. This gentleness, after all, was strictly reserved for Van alone. While some certainly deserved to die, others who hadn’t were slaughtered simply because they had annoyed and inconvenienced Orma. In the end, Van had gained absolutely nothing from this endeavor. It was almost embarrassing.

A system message flashed into view, coldly informing him that the hidden quest had failed because the bandits were slaughtered. However, since Van himself had harbored doubts about whether he should even evangelize to such wretched scum, he quietly followed behind Orma. In a way, he was actually quite grateful that the deity didn’t push for answers—

Ding!

Oh, please.

[You have failed the Hidden Quest! But don’t worry. A new quest has arrived just for you!

Hidden Quest: Convert the poor boy captured by the bandits into a believer of your god.

Convert Believers (0/1)

Reward: Divine Faith +5, Faith Gauge +5]

Yet another quest materialized. Compared to the previous one, the Divine Faith reward had dropped by 5 points, but the Faith Gauge reward remained exactly the same…

Is there actually someone still alive?

According to the text, he needed to convert ‘the poor boy captured by the bandits.’ If that referred to the father’s son who had led Van here… unfortunately, Orma had already sent him to a more peaceful place.

When Van abruptly halted in his tracks, Orma turned his head back, looking as if to ask what could possibly be the problem now. But as he glared at Van with a disgruntled expression, a faint, raspy voice leaked out from the depths of the foul-smelling cave.

“H-help… please help me…”

It sounded like the voice of a young child. As Van reflexively began walking toward the source, Orma frowned deeply, pressing his apostle once more.

“I said, let’s go.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll just be a moment to check.”

An irritated sigh escaped Orma’s lips at Van’s stubbornness. Even so, he didn’t actively stop Van, nor did he use his immense strength to drag him away. He was likely just waiting to see how far Van would take this, but Van ignored him and stepped into the darkness where the voice had originated.

In stark contrast to the blinding, scorching sunlight outside, the interior of the cave was pitch black. Occasionally, he passed what looked like skeletal remains or small cages containing taxidermied animals, but there was no sign of a human presence.

“Hic… Over… over here… please save me…”

Ah, I need to look much lower than I thought. Van lowered his gaze toward the floor near the sound. Crouched there in the shadows was a small child, shivering—and behind him, a long tail was softly swishing.

…He looked human enough at a glance, but a tail?