The Fall of Veros

"Hey, Veros."

Yoahim called out his name, and the black mage flinched, staggering back a step.

"...You know my name? Are you a pursuer sent by the tower? No, that can't be. You use necromancy too, so you're a black mage like me. Who the hell are you?"

This guy's no threat if I tell him.

Yoahim opened his mouth and revealed his identity.

"You serve the same master, wield the same power, and you still don't get it? I'm an Apostle of the Evil God."

"An Apostle of the Evil God...?"

The title was grandiose, but that was all it was. Yoahim revealed it hoping Veros would shit himself a little at the words.

"...Yeah, I thought something was off. A black mage swinging a sword and brawling with orc warriors? I've heard of them—the Apostles of the Evil God. Those who heed the Evil God's call and move to drown the world in darkness."

Veros trailed off, scanning Yoahim up and down.

"But are you really one? You're way too weak."

Yoahim bristled but kept his cool.

"My level's low."

"What's a level?"

"It's a thing."

Yoahim checked above Veros's head. Level 36, Black Mage. Stronger than expected. Yoahim was only level 22. Thanks to Haellagos's power, his stats were equivalent to level 30+, but he couldn't guarantee a fair fight.

He lowered his sword, watching Veros's movements. The guy was unarmed. Didn't even a black mage carry a wand? Were there more minions hiding?

Yoahim glanced around the workshop, but no orcs or goblins seemed lurking. Turning back to Veros, he spotted something glinting on the mage's finger.

What the—?

Squinting at it, Veros thrust his hand forward. A ring with a clear, round-cut gem embedded in it blinked, and suddenly a translucent arrow shot out.

Whoosh!

Yoahim swung his sword at the incoming arrow.

Clang! It shattered against the blade, dissolving back into mana.

'Magic Missile?'

The most basic attack skill for mages. No elemental weakness, low mana cost—but weak power, so most ditched it after the early game. And a level 36 black mage using Magic Missile of all things?

Before Yoahim could process the absurdity, another shot flew. The casting time was negligible—blazing fast.

'Something's off.'

He batted it away and kicked off the floor, charging. Simple rule for melee vs. mage: close the gap. Then kill. Fail, and you're dead.

Closing in instantly, Yoahim raised his sword and invoked a blessing on himself. His stats surged, movements sharpening. Veros's ring blinked again, but Yoahim was confident he'd slit the throat first.

If not for the green flames erupting from the corner of his vision.

"Fuck, what?!"

Instead of slashing Veros, Yoahim deflected the fireball. Even blocked, the shock jarred his wrist. A follow-up Magic Missile pushed him back slightly.

Veros cackled, casting again. Despite the ring's blink, green flames bloomed from his right hand.

'Double Casting?'

Exactly as named—casting two skills at once. Mages and black mages could learn it, but total damage dropped. Key point: minimum level 60.

Veros was 36. Way too low.

"Hahaha! Shocked face! Of course, after witnessing my black magic's might! Don't worry too much. I'll kill you soon!"

More spells flew. Yoahim snapped to, dashing through the workshop. The Magic Missile whiffed into empty air, followed by a black arrow that collided with it.

Yoahim narrowed the gap—one step, another, and he'd swing for the neck.

But his leg froze, snagged like by an invisible grip. Looking down: a black shadow binding it.

Black mage mez—Shadow Bind.

"Gah!"

Magic Missiles pummeled him, then a fireball. Flames blinded him momentarily.

Veros smirked amid the roar, savoring the screams. "Apostle of the Evil God? Big talk ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for nothing." Maybe raise his corpse. Strong undead potential.

The screams cut off. Veros snapped his fingers to dispel the flames.

Big mistake.

Whoosh! Something solid spun through the air.

Veros instinctively raised his ringed hand. A Magic Missile collided with it, ricocheting to graze his wrist.

Sting first. Then searing agony. Unfit for physical pain his whole life, it overwhelmed him.

"Gaaah! Fuck, what?!"

Screaming, he looked up—and his mouth clamped shut. A hand jutted out, crushing his face with brutal force.

"What else? The guy who's gonna kill you."

Yoahim's body was scorched, pale smoke rising. But alive. Direct fireball hit, and he's fine?

Veros's eyes bulged.

Undead? No way...

"Gurk!"

A heavy fist smashed his face. Unfamiliar agony for a tormentor like him. He didn't even realize he hit the floor, nose gushing blood, broken teeth spilling with bloody spit.

"The one who's gonna kill you."

Crack! A swift kick to the head sent him flying like trash into a desk. Lab tools rained down.

Veros tried rising, dizzy. Another fist floored him.

Yoahim mounted him, pinning his waist with knees, fist cocked.

Time for a beatdown.

Relentless punches echoed through the workshop. Nose shattered, cheekbones caved. Eyes swelled shut, mouth foaming blood.

Veros lost all will to fight. He could've countered with magic—but fear paralyzed him.

"Hoo..."

Thick blood dripped from Yoahim's knuckles. Veros out cold. Yoahim sneered.

"Time to end it."

He stood, grabbed his sword, aimed at the neck. No prayers for the dying.

But for the first time, Yoahim invoked the Evil God's name.

"This is like an offering. Watch over me a bit—give me some power or whatever."

Sword rose, slashed down fast.

"For the Evil God Kakalli."

The head severed easily, rolling across the floor.

The Apostle offered sacrifice, but the sealed Evil God stayed silent.

Yoahim chuckled alone.

"Am I going crazy from being stuck in this world too long?"

No answer. He shrugged.

Windows popped up in a cascade. Killing level 36 Veros netted three levels, plus two more from the quest. Five levels at once—Yoahim was thrilled.

Just some bullshit line, but did it actually take the offering?

He tilted his head at the quest window's final line. In the game, offerings were just job quest flavor. Hunting mobs didn't revive the god.

But this notification implied the Evil God Kakalli did receive ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it.

"Gonna actually revive, huh."

Muttering to himself, Yoahim absorbed Veros's soul into the crystal.

Veros's soul was worth 20. Yoahim nodded, satisfied, and rummaged the corpse.

"Hunting always ends with loot..."

His hand froze. Eyes widened.

"This is?"