I Became the Apostle of an Evil God Chapter 3

“S-Solan?”

At Van’s retort, Winod’s face drained of color. He wondered if Van was saying that because he knew something.

He narrowed his eyes and looked at Van, trying to read his intentions, but Van merely maintained a faint smile on his still-placid face.

Despite it being the dead of winter, the days were growing longer, to the point of gradually encroaching upon the domain of night. The rivers that should have been frozen were drying up, and the sky boasted an atmosphere hotter and drier than summer.

Due to the bizarre seasonal shift, even the trees that had barely been holding onto life withered away, and an anomalous phenomenon continued where the sun strangely seemed to draw a little closer day by day.

Everyone, with bodies reduced to mere bones like dried-up twigs, hid inside buildings, scraping by on rations that could be finished in a single handful, counting down the days until a night would come where they could finally catch their breath.

Those who happened to be exposed to the sunlight for too long grew sick and ultimately met their deaths.

If this wasn’t a disaster, what on earth could it be called? And in the midst of this, how could they not view someone who casually trained outside, exerting his body alone, as the hope that might appear in a prophecy?

Van saw right through Winod’s thoughts. The Priest Winod in the game was a flat character who was very easy to read.

Hmm, if he were to guess what the man was thinking right now….

‘How much does he know? Did someone tell him? Is he really the savior in the prophecy? No, he’s far too calm even now…. There’s definitely something. Then should I pretend not to know? Right, that fellow Solan must have blabbed all over the place before having an audience with the High Priest. Van must know about that and is playing tricks.’

“Ahem, hem. It seems that fellow Solan indiscreetly bragged all over the place. Solan merely met with the High Priest and was entrusted with a secret mission; he isn’t some true Messenger of God….”

How could he not deviate from expectations in the slightest? Van felt disappointed inwardly and pondered for a moment. Should he continue to pretend to be oblivious as he always had, or should he gradually….

“Well, Priest Winod. Who are you thinking of as the next Messenger of God after Solan?”

“What?”

“Greg? He’s so noisy that the evil god might kill him instantly before he can even utter a single word. Then Delun? Ah, excuse me, he is the precious hidden son of Priest Barwin, isn’t he? Surely it wouldn’t be Tish, though? It would be a miracle if that fragile, cowardly child didn’t faint the moment he sets foot in hell.”

“You….”

“How about me instead?”

Winod opened his eyes wide and scanned Van up and down. Although the lad possessed a slyly elusive side and an attitude that oddly seemed to watch situations from the sidelines, he had always been one to comply soon after, casting down his beautiful eyes that resembled the sky and following along silently.

Whether Van was laying bare his inner thoughts only now, or whether he had hidden a scheme for a long time, Winod, who had a lot to hide, flew into a rage first.

“W-what on earth nonsense are you spouting?”

“Didn’t you ask me first if I was the apostle of God? I am on the quiet side, so I won’t be particularly bothersome, and since I’m an orphan, there won’t be any aftermath even if I disappear without a rumor. I don’t have a cowardly personality like Tish, nor do I show it. So I am more curious. Why do you not designate me as the ‘Messenger of God’?”

“….”

It was amusing to see Winod staring at him as if he were looking at a ghost with an appalled face. Strange. Van thought he had analyzed himself objectively without putting himself up or tearing himself down too much.

With a smile still hovering on his lips, Van slowly tilted his head and urged him once more to extract the desired answer.

“It seems Priest Winod shares the same thought as me, so would it be safe to assume that the next Messenger of God has been decided as me?”

“…Since when, and how much do you know? Who told you? Hmm?”

“No, I knew from the very beginning.”

“The beginning?”

“Yes, from the moment I was first born—everything.”

Perhaps who knows if that is the condition for an apostle? Van curved his eyes softly, and after offering a polite bow to Winod, who was staring at him blankly, he left the spot first.

It could be seen as acting mischievous just because he knew a bit about the things that would happen in the future through the game, but it was certainly better than abruptly reincarnating someone into a different world just because they played a game a little.

Van comforted himself that way and moved with light steps to wash down his sweat-drenched body. And not long after, just as he expected, Van was selected as the next ‘Messenger of God’ and the ‘sacrifice’ to drag the evil god Orma outside.

The entrance leading to hell was located deep inside the temple where Van had been taken in and raised. The priests maintained that they were merely gatekeepers, sealing the entrance to hell under the holy name of Serca.

A warning had been passed down that the evil god could crawl up to the surface at any time, and while it wasn’t entirely wrong for the priests to believe so…

‘Hmm, if he wanted to come outside, he could have come out at any time. Why didn’t he?’

In truth, that was what Van had been curious about all along. There was no way the priests actually knew how to seal the entrance to hell. Even if they believed they were blocking it, it wouldn’t have any effect.

Furthermore, since Orma was a being who had placed one foot into the realm of God just about as much as Van had, it had to be viewed that he was stuck in hell to some extent by his own volition.

However, Orma’s appearance revealed in the final chapter of the game was not quite normal. The human flesh afflicted by madness would recover when broken, and repeat the process of recovering again when broken, and at the end of it, Orma’s mind had shattered completely.

Even so, the way he stubbornly confined himself there to a frustrating degree rubbed Van the wrong way.

…Rubbed him the wrong way? Hmm, right. Until now, he hadn’t known how to define this emotion, but the expression ‘rubbed the wrong way’ seemed to fit perfectly.

“…Ahem. Van, it is just ahead.”

At the words calling him with a fake cough, Van snapped out of his thoughts. Before Van’s eyes, a shabby sight unfolded, to the point where the thought ‘This piece of crap is the entrance to hell?’ naturally arose. Amidst complete darkness, a cracked space looked as if a hole had been punctured in midair.

Even though he clearly knew about it through the depiction in the game, the appearance he saw in reality was even more severely wretched. He felt a strong conviction that if it were Orma, he could rend this gap and come out at any time.

‘…So this means he’s absolutely staying inside on purpose.’

Seeing Van’s slightly distorted face, Winod wondered if he was belatedly trembling in fear and regretting it, so he hurriedly patted Van’s back lightly. It was an action carrying a meaning of encouragement in Winod’s own way, but Van actually glanced at Winod with eyes faintly laced with contempt and headed toward the entrance to hell without even replying.

Whether Winod gnashed his teeth behind his back for being arrogant or not, Van strode forward without a shred of hesitation.

Saying he would return safely, saying he would do his best as the Messenger of God…. It was a move on a completely different dimension from the sacrifices who had said their goodbyes with extraordinary determination until now. Van left behind the dumbfounded priests and straight away dove into hell without restraint.

The moment he stepped in, his body plummeted downward endlessly. Perhaps because he knew what kind of place hell was, rather than the fear of falling into an abyss where nothing could be seen, Van felt more at a loss and fearful about how on earth he should convince Orma, who had crawled into a place like this on his own feet and was staying stuck inside.

Even Van was personally experiencing that this world was gradually ruining. It was truly ironic that the only being capable of stopping that disaster was Orma, who had become an evil god.

Anyway, it was unfair enough to suddenly reincarnate into a world inside a game while playing it, but wouldn’t it be even more unfair to die because he couldn’t stop the disaster despite knowing the future?

So… with what words exactly am I supposed to convince Orma?

Abruptly prostrating oneself flat, explaining the situation, and begging for help must have already been tried by the numerous Messengers of God who were offered as sacrifices. He felt certain that an orthodox method would not work, but the problem was that Van was not particularly eloquent either.

He was at such a loss that he wondered if he should just spout some nonsense like, “It’s boring here, right? Shall we head out?” like a man who slinks next to a woman he likes inside a club thick with cigarette smoke and winks with a mischievous smile.

…No, first he had to check if Orma was sane enough to hold a conversation. There was no way the sanity of a guy who had been aged for a long time in a place like this would be intact.

Van, who had been falling downward endlessly, realized at some point that he was standing still. Looking around, seeing that all sides were a space of silent and dark nothingness, it seemed he had properly reached hell.

All that could be seen was a pitch-black black, to the degree that if one sampled it with a eyedropper, #000000 would come out. Van carefully composed his breathing and focused on whether even a faint presence could be heard.

“….”

Hmm, none at all. He hovered around silently for a long while, but whether hell was wider than he thought, no sound reached him. Then I guess I have to go look for him from my side….

Van randomly picked a direction and walked. From below, a bizarre sensation was felt where he couldn’t tell if he was stepping on proper ground, and the upper side that looked as if the ceiling was blocked was stifling, as if he were locked inside a narrow wardrobe.

Even though he had been in hell for just a brief moment, an unpleasant feeling was already rushing in. To think he crawled into a place like this on his own feet and stayed stuck still. An intuition that the current Orma would not be in his right mind heavily pressed down on Van.

“…Haa.”

Just then, a faint, tiny sound of breathing echoed from somewhere. Van straight away drew his sword from the scabbard hanging at his waist and turned his head toward the direction where the sound was heard. However, as if he had heard an auditory hallucination, that faint breathing soon cut off abruptly and all sides were submerged in silence again.

Nevertheless, Van did not let down his guard and continued to glare in the direction where the sound had come from. It was still dark so nothing could be seen, but there was definitely something beyond there. As if that thought was not wrong, something soon sliced through the air and flew rapidly at a speed that couldn’t even be followed with the eyes….

“Kugh…!”

It pierced into Van’s chest. With a thud sound, the thing that flew like light impaled his body without hesitation. A pain to the point where his vision turned dizzy assaulted Van.

The moment he realized its identity was the golden spear—Orma’s weapon—the system messages flashed in succession.

[A new list of Gods has been unlocked!]

[…You have died!]

It insensitively announced Van’s death.