Make a Contract and Become My Apostle
The world is vast. Countless places remain untouched by human feet, or have long since been abandoned. In these forgotten corners, ownerless treasures overflow, and there are those who make a living by finding and selling them. Though they call themselves adventurers or excavators, they are usually known as grave robbers. Yohan, a black-haired outworlder, was a member of one such crew. Or rather, he had been.
"Fuck..." Yohan spat out a curse, even as his consciousness began to fade. With a knife buried deep in his back and having plummeted into a pit easily ten meters deep, his body was a complete wreck. The tumble down had torn the stab wound wide open, leaving him pooling in his own blood.
He had been naive. He was running with a crowd that didn't know the first thing about honor among thieves, yet he had forgotten his place and trusted them. This was the result. He didn't have a single potion to heal his wounds, let alone a bandage to wrap around them and stop the bleeding. After all, they had stabbed him in the back the exact moment he had laid down his gear to rest.
Yohan slowly lifted his hanging head to look up at the opening of the pit. The moonlight pouring through the narrow gap—barely wide enough for a single person to squeeze through—created an ethereal atmosphere. Had he been pleasantly drunk, he would have admired it without a second thought. He had been backstabbed by the bastards he called comrades, but at least the last sight before his death wasn't half bad. It wasn't the absolute worst way to go.
"Those absolute motherfuckers." But really, what did any of that matter? He had been dragged to another world out of nowhere, dragged himself through a miserable, bottom-tier existence, and now he was about to kick the bucket with a blade sticking out of his spine.
The dizziness worsened by the second, blurring his vision. His insides must have been severely ruptured during the fall. The only silver lining was that the pain was gradually dulling as time passed. Of course, that was just a sign that death was knocking on his door, so it wasn't actually good news.
It was then.
—Who is there?
Just as he was about to give up on anger and accept his demise, a voice suddenly echoed inside Yohan's head.
Great. Now that I'm dying, I'm starting to hear things. Yohan opened his eyes reflexively at the mysterious voice, but he didn't bother to react otherwise.
—Are you human? Has a living soul drawn near?
But the voice echoing in his mind only grew louder and clearer. It sounded far too real to be a mere hallucination. This time, Yohan didn't ignore it. He forced his throat and lips to move, struggling to squeeze out a reply.
"Yeah... I'm not dead yet..."
—Heavens! A living soul has truly found me!
Perhaps his answer had reached the speaker, as a voice overflowing with pure joy rang out in his head once more.
—But wait... are you not on the verge of death?
That's why I said 'yet,' you idiot. Yohan wanted to retort, but he no longer had the energy to form words.
—This will not do. Hold on a moment...
The voice spoke again. Flash! At that exact moment, a blinding light erupted in the pitch-black space where only faint moonlight had reached. First auditory hallucinations, and now visual ones? Yohan tried to raise his hands to shield his eyes from the glare, but unfortunately, he didn't even have the strength to lift a finger.
"Let us see."
Another voice drifted over. But this time, it was different. It wasn't echoing inside his head; it sounded as if someone was speaking directly in front of him. When he forced his eyes open, someone was indeed standing there.
"Your wounds are severe..."
A figure radiating a pure, brilliant white light looked down at Yohan. No, it wasn't human. While the figure certainly possessed the form of a human—specifically, a woman—the bizarre light emanating from her entire body and her otherworldly beauty made it clear that she was not a mortal creature like him. This appearance... was she not like a god?
The entity, glowing with a strange luster, suddenly moved behind Yohan's back.
"First, this wound... It shall sting a little."
Her voice drifted from behind him. Yohan could only blink, his face a mask of utter confusion.
Schlick!
Immediately after, an agonizing pain shot up his spine and instantly tore through his entire body.
"Gah-ack!"
The pain was so indescribable that Yohan couldn't even let out a proper scream. That crazy bitch! He thought she was going to heal him, but she had clearly just ripped the knife straight out of his back. Yohan glared into the void, gritting his teeth in sheer agony.
"Good. With this, the external wound is mended."
But his fury was short-lived. Yohan suddenly realized that his fading consciousness had cleared up quite a bit. This wasn't just a temporary jolt of adrenaline from the intense pain. His rapidly depleting life force was actively being restored.
"Now, you should have enough strength to converse."
At those words, the mysterious entity that had slipped behind him reappeared in front of his eyes.
"Converse?" Yohan repeated, tasting the word.
"Indeed. Let us speak. Tell me why a human has set foot in the shrine of a god completely forgotten by history, thousands of years after it was sealed away." The mysterious being offered Yohan a bright, gentle smile.
Perhaps he was overwhelmed by the radiant glow she emitted. Yohan found himself meekly explaining the circumstances of how he had ended up dying in this pit.
"I see... No matter how many eons pass, the human nature of betraying one another remains unchanged."
In truth, Yohan hadn't poured his heart out solely because of her divine pressure. The mysterious entity was simply an exceptional listener. She hung on his every word, reacting with a rich array of facial expressions at every crucial turn of his tale. She looked like someone who had been utterly alone for an eternity, unable to contain her sheer delight at finally having someone to talk to.
"A truly pitiful tale. And yet... is it not a stroke of grand fortune that this pit, which you believed to be your grave, turned out to be my shrine?" The mysterious entity huffed proudly, puffing out her chest.
"A shrine... looks more like a pile of ruins to me," Yohan replied, scanning his surroundings. Using the brilliant light radiating from her body as a makeshift torch, he could finally make out the structure of the pit.
"Did I not just tell you? I am a deity whose very name was forgotten thousands of years ago." The mysterious entity lightly tapped her chest with her palm as she spoke. In other words, she was claiming to be a god.
"Ha."
Yohan couldn't help but let out a dry chuckle. No matter how suddenly he had been summoned to this fantasy world, and no matter how many absurd spells he had witnessed, this was the first time he had ever met someone claiming to be a 'god.' And yet... Yohan didn't dismiss her words as a complete lie. This being had instantly closed a gaping wound while pulling a blade from his back, all while radiating a light that felt undeniably divine. Even if she wasn't a god, she was easily the most powerful, high-ranking entity he had ever encountered in his life.
"Sure. Whatever you say, Goddess."
"Indeed. A goddess I am."
He had said it half-mockingly, but the self-proclaimed goddess accepted his address with absolute, unshakeable confidence.
"And your tumbling into... ahem, your arrival at my shrine is a stroke of immense fortune, not just for you, but for me as well."
"Fortune?"
When Yohan questioned her, the self-proclaimed goddess nodded vigorously.
"Does it not strike you as odd that a divine being such as myself cannot fully restore a single dying mortal?"
This time, the self-proclaimed goddess posed a question to Yohan. He pondered it for a moment before quickly conceding her point. Though he felt significantly better compared to when he was actively dying, his body was still a complete wreck. The stab wound on his back had only closed on the surface; the torn muscles and ruptured organs underneath remained shredded, and the bruises covering his entire body hadn't healed in the slightest.
"..."
In fact, as his dulled senses returned, the pain was beginning to flare up again.
"Gods are beings who attain immortality through the faith of mortals. Yet, I have been imprisoned here, my very name forgotten. Thus, I am on a ticking clock, much like yourself." Even though Yohan hadn't asked, the self-proclaimed goddess readily spilled her tragic backstory.
"With my current strength, maintaining this physical form and barely patching up your fatal wound is the absolute limit of my power. Soon, even this meager strength will fade entirely, and I shall ultimately vanish into nothingness." The self-proclaimed goddess spoke in a detached tone. However, Yohan could catch the faint trace of despair lingering in her expression and voice.
"Soon? How soon are we talking, exactly?"
It was a question born of pure curiosity. Yet, the self-proclaimed goddess took it quite seriously, falling into deep thought.
"About five hundred years."
"..."
She gave her answer after careful deliberation. Yohan tilted his head, utterly dumbfounded by her response.
"Wow, holy shit. That really is just around the corner."
"Indeed, it is."
He muttered sarcastically, but the self-proclaimed goddess seemed to take his mockery as genuine concern for her well-being.
Well, since they were already talking, he might as well satisfy his curiosity. Yohan decided to ask the second question that had popped into his head.
"So, what do we have to do for both of us to survive?"
The moment Yohan threw out the question, the goddess's gloomy expression vanished. Her eyes widened, her face lit up with joy, and she lunged forward to grab both of his hands in a tight grip.
"What an exceptionally splendid question!"
Apparently, she had found it too embarrassing to bring up herself and had been eagerly waiting for him to ask.
"..."
Yohan finally understood why this self-proclaimed goddess had gone out of her way to explain her plight. She had been baiting him, hoping he would take the hint and ask how to save them.
"As I have revealed, the immortality and authority of a deity—myself included—stem from the faith of mortals." The self-proclaimed goddess gently released Yohan's hands, which she had been squeezing tightly. She then clasped her own hands together as if in prayer.
"Thus, there is but one path for both you and me to survive."
"And what's that?"
He asked out of politeness, though he had already guessed what she was going to say.
"O nameless mortal. Become the Apostle of the Unnamed Goddess, and spread my faith once more across this land."
Of course. A painfully predictable answer. Yohan shrugged, his face practically screaming I knew it.
"No thanks."
"Indeed. From your perspective, accepting such a burden..."
The goddess's eyes suddenly shrank to the size of needles. A look of utter bewilderment washed over her face.
"W-What did you say?" she stammered.
"I said no. Sounds like a pain. Honestly, living in this world is just a non-stop cycle of pain and misery anyway. I'd rather just die right here." Yohan's refusal was cold and absolute. He wasn't saying this just to tease her.
"And who knows? Maybe if I die in this world, I'll wake up back home."
Yohan genuinely wanted to end it all here. According to the self-proclaimed goddess, his wounds weren't fully healed, so if he just sat tight, he would eventually run out of strength and die. There was no way back to his original world anyway. Perhaps dying in this world was his only ticket back home—a faint, desperate hope he clung to.
"W-W-What..."
Was his response too much of a shock? The self-proclaimed goddess stared at him with wide eyes, her lips trembling as she stammered incoherently.
"Aaaaahhhhh!"
A moment later, she let out a deafening shriek that nearly shattered his eardrums and lunged straight at him.