Fate

In the corner of his eye, Veyl noticed that the witch and the high priest had already pushed open the tavern's door. Outside, the rain had finally begun to let up, and an overwhelming sense of despair and regret welled up inside him. It felt as if he'd made the wrong decision.

The mercenary in front of him also stood up, but his expression showed a hint of hesitation. Veyl picked up on that uncertainty but said nothing—he simply focused on the pile of firewood in the pit with the wooden stick in his hand. Just a moment ago, he had tossed two more potatoes into the fire. Clearly, this little display had caught the mercenary's attention.

Veyl remained silent, though he couldn't help feeling a touch of anxiety. Soon enough, the room would be down to just the two of them—and even a desperate fool might try to play the role of a bandit when cornered. Yet, judging by the rugged brute before him, despite his ferocious looks, the man still appeared to have some dignity… exactly matching the look he'd had when he'd been rifling through his pockets earlier. The man opened his mouth as if to speak, but then his face reddened in embarrassment and he scratched his head instead.

Seeing him like that, Veyl's heart finally eased a little—perhaps he hadn't misjudged this fellow after all. A person like him would never casually pretend to be a robber unless he were an exceptionally good actor. And if he were that slick, then Veyl deserved whatever fate awaited him in that man's hands.

Veyl almost felt compelled to continue his persuasion, but he held himself back. He knew that at times like this, the more you talk, the more you sap someone's confidence. His father had once told him that when dealing with subordinates, silence often works better than a silver tongue.

Sure enough, the mercenary eventually spoke up, his voice rough but sincere:"You gave me a bite to eat when I was about to starve, and I was supposed to work for you because of that. But my comrade died—I've got his relics and letters on me, and his family needs to be taken care of."

That was a reason too solid to argue with, and given how seriously the brute took his commitments, it was hard to twist his words. Yet, a spark of hope flickered in Veyl's heart.

"Look at you!" Veyl suddenly burst out, his tone a mix of exasperation and bitter disappointment. "Look at the sorry state you're in—can't even get a proper meal—and how do you expect to care for his family? What, gonna fight them for food? You even lost your comrade's compensation!"

The brute patted his head, his face showing regret and worry as he mumbled, "I… I lost those Silver Fox coins…"

"That's it then—I've got a job for you. In just one day, I can make you enough money to set up his family for life!" Veyl's heart pounded wildly, and a hint of nervous excitement crept in. Here before him lay food and the prospect of money—a combination that, on its own, was a suicidal move. But since he'd chosen this path, he was determined to see it through no matter what.

"How much?" The brute's wide, cattle-like eyes narrowed slightly.

Gritting his teeth, Veyl rifled through his pockets. Even though his domain was in a sorry state, as a noble he still had a fair amount of money on him—money he'd collected since returning from the church. And little John's pouch wasn't empty either. Together, they amounted to a total of three hundred Silver Fox coins (with a portion in Gold Lions). In this era, with prices running about four to six Silver Fox coins per unit, that sum could buy a laboring slave—a veritable fortune.

If this brute harbored any greed, he could be easily taken advantage of—treated like a little chick. "But now, I'm at the end of my rope," Veyl continued, "if a big guy like you kills me, I'm dead; if you walk away, I'm dead. And from what you just said, you seem like a man who values keeping his word—so you're not that desperate, are you?"

Shaking off the excess suspicion, Veyl fixed his eyes wide and delivered his rehearsed line:"How does a hundred-plus Silver Fox coins sound? Enough to set up your comrade's family for life—and maybe buy you a few plots of farmland!"

"Enough, enough—this money's plenty! Now, tell me, what do you want me to do?" The big bald brute's voice trembled with excitement as he clenched his fists. It was as if the reward was almost too much for him. Yet he truly needed the money.

Veyl's confidence swelled as he asked, "What do you think, are there any monsters around my territory?" His own heart steadied; he no longer worried about the future, only about convincing this man to stick with him—get through this ordeal, and then worry about what comes next.

"Zombies and wolves? I saw them—just earlier, I beat a few to death!" the brute replied in a simple, blunt manner.

"See? It's a piece of cake—and imagine how easy it is to make money!" Veyl stood up, emboldened by the brute's reaction, and continued to address the fool:"But you've been wandering for so long, killing monsters every day—has anyone ever paid you for that? If it weren't for a good lord like me, you'd never amass this kind of cash!"

In wartime, hiring a skilled mercenary might net only four to six Silver Fox coins a month. Sure, key victories might earn extra, and meals would be provided free of charge. But in peacetime, disputes between lords could be settled in just a few weeks, and many would perish on the battlefield without earning even a single Gold Lion (worth about 30 Silver Fox coins).

He added, "And what do you think will happen when no lord is left to pay you or feed you? How many days do you reckon you could survive on an empty stomach?"

"I can eat in the wild…" the brute mumbled, scratching the back of his head as he thought of the tasteless rations he'd scavenged and the wolves he couldn't outrun. Suddenly, his tone shifted: "Do you have any other work lined up for me afterward?"

The brute's question made Veyl's heart leap. Yet, he quickly switched gears, his face hardening as he said, "Friend, do you really think money in this world is that easy to come by? Just over a hundred Silver Fox coins a day?!"The brute's tone was downright cheeky—insolent, almost as if he were daring him.He even dismissed Veyl's earlier claim that one could earn enough in a day as pure bullshit: "Your appetite alone would feed ten people, let alone during this food-scarce apocalypse. Even in normal times, my hundred Silver Fox coins would be enough to hire a mercenary as my personal lackey for life!"

At that moment, the brute felt an immense wave of insult and mockery. He pressed his lips together and clenched his fists so tightly that he said nothing further.

Veyl, who had been trembling with nerves—his legs shaking as if teetering on the edge of death—stared him down with wide, unyielding eyes, emphasizing every word he'd just spoken. Just as the brute opened his mouth, on the verge of breaking the silence, Veyl abruptly waved his hand to cut him off and shouted:"But I can pay you that money!! Because your noble actions moved me, because I'm a good lord, and because, like you, I value the spirit of chivalry." He couldn't help but swallow hard at his own words.

"You… you mean it?" the brute stuttered.

"Of course—but—" Veyl's heart pounded furiously as he continued, "just like your comrade, shouldn't you help each other out? I've already lent you a hand twice—after you take care of that widow, you've got to come back and help me out!"He added in a nearly pleading tone, "Besides, you've got nowhere else to go anyway…"

The words left the brute momentarily stunned. He reached up, scratched the back of his head, and then nodded slowly, saying, "I'll come back and help you. You're a good lord, sir."Then, widening his eyes like a bull's, he emphasized, "But you've got to keep feeding me!"

"Not a problem—if I have food, you'll never go hungry," Veyl replied solemnly, his face set like he was making a promise.Yet, deep inside, he couldn't help but think, What if one day you really decide to steal it all from me?Before he could dwell further, he looked the big bald man in the eye and said gravely, "But I need your promise!"

He needed that promise from this brute, just as he'd once promised his fallen comrade."I swear by the New Gods and the Old Gods!" the brute declared, raising a finger at last to give Veyl the answer he so desperately wanted.

Veyl didn't know who these New or Old Gods were, but he nodded nonetheless—regardless of whether the brute would return, at least today his troubles were eased. And whether the man would come back in the future, Veyl chose to see it as a hope for tomorrow.He recalled that if it weren't for that last sliver of black bread he'd barely eaten, he wouldn't have made it this far!

Without a word, Veyl pulled out four Gold Lions—just like betting chips—and tossed them over. Four Gold Lions began spinning through the air, tracing an arc across the sky, but then, mid-flight, they vanished. The mercenary nodded in acknowledgment, and then, as if dissolving into the mist, he suddenly scattered and disappeared.

This strange scene startled Veyl. Before he could shout something like, "At least you should finish your work before running off with the money!" he noticed that new lines of text had appeared in the fire pit.

At first, it was just a note saying that a high priest had inadvertently picked up a stone marked with an ancient god's sigil, and soon after, he had begun a frenzied worship…The old world had unexpectedly met its demise; ancient gods were awakening, the mist spread thickly, and demons roamed among mortals.People were barely clinging to life in this apocalyptic calamity, their existence shrouded in endless darkness…The sanctuary's bell tolled, summoning its new lord…And at long last, he had his first partner…

The flames flickered once more, and new characters appeared, as if the writer had changed mid-script. In truth, these three travelers might not all become useful to you—each could potentially end your life, since nothing is ever absolute.But you chose the best decision—the one person you could control and use.That decision pleased the God of Sanctuary, for what He needed was someone who wouldn't blindly believe in fate or the future—a person not swayed by "divine" forces.Only one who does not trust destiny or tomorrow can change the course of what is meant to be!

Veyl's mind wandered for a moment—the phrase "a person not swayed by the gods" suddenly reminded him of that high priest who had changed his faith—perhaps, he mused, that priest was the spokesperson chosen by the ancient god. And the ancient god who had stolen the followers of the God of Sanctuary must be giving the God of Sanctuary quite the headache…

The fire flickered, and the text turned to speak of the three travelers once more.These three were all very unique: one came from the past, one from the future, and the other was a fool lost among the fragments of time—a part of him that had escaped the shattered shadows and was reborn in this world.These three interwove their timelines as they arrived here—those meant to stay remained, and those meant to leave continued on their way…

Build up your sanctuary, protect your people, and fight off the approaching apocalypse! Do your best, and the gods will continue to invest in you…As the flames danced again, the text reverted to its original form:  "God has begun to pay attention to you—perhaps this is what they call 'mission rewards.'"  You have earned the title 'Favored of the Gods, Level 3'—your performance has made the gods extremely satisfied!  'Favored of the Gods, Level 3' grants you three abilities:  1. As one whom the gods favor, they always manage to hear your voice amid countless prayers…   Thus, compared to other clerics, you have a unique edge—for instance, even without using mana, your Sacred Hymns have a faint effect;  2. When a Favored one uses the Sacred Hymns, strange phenomena will occur;  3. Souls that are granted passage by a Favored one, when killed, will be immediately escorted to heaven!

"You should have given me some reward ages ago, man! I'm out here running your branch office for you!" Veyl muttered bitterly in his heart, wiping away the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

He picked up the scroll and looked at the map where he saw his own character. Clenching his hands in excitement, he suddenly noticed that when the title 'Favored of the Gods' appeared, his entry on the scroll—and especially the section on Sacred Hymns—had undergone a tremendous change!

Skills:The Uncertain Sacred Hymn (Part I) [Sacred Anthem Level 0]: Currently, it provides a faint purification and healing effect, and even stops bleeding a little—now, as long as you sincerely praise your boss, it can purify corruption and stave off infection.  Description: Praise your boss! Soon, you'll understand what a detoxifying "treatment" means in this end-of-days world!The Unmemorized Sacred Hymn (Part II) [Divine Retribution Level 0]: Right now, you can't really use this move to "retribute" your enemies at the crucial moment—  but if you pull out your sacred tome and shout the Lord's name at the same time, perhaps those evil foes will quake in fear. After all, you've got a powerful patron!  Description: I don't know how you'll be juggling a sacred tome and fighting off enemies in a crisis—maybe you should put a bookmark in it?Overall Combat Power: 2  Bonus: +1 combat power against evil creatures.

"Better than nothing… just make do for now," Veyl murmured, his eyes brimming with tears—a small comfort in the midst of despair.

"But what about my follower?! With him coming and going like that, if he doesn't return, I'm dead! He promised to work for me for one day before leaving!" Veyl clutched his forehead as tears streamed down his face.

At that very moment, the tavern door swung open again. Veyl's heart leaped as he saw a mercenary clad in leather armor, with a longsword at his side and a longbow slung over his back, re-enter the room.

"My business here is done. Now tell me, who do you want me to kill!" the big brute added, "but first, I gotta fill my stomach!"

"Goddammit, the best things are always just out of reach! I used to think fools were all I got, and damn it, I never managed to recruit that interesting and beautiful witch. Now, seeing him makes me happier than a bun—no, happier than black bread!" Veyl mused.

Veyl noticed that the brute's attire was different from before. Recalling the scene when he had disappeared earlier, he realized that everything that had happened might have been an illusion—a mere phantom. Just as the gods said, it was all a test arranged by Him. Only the one who remained remembered everything. It was as if, in that dimension of time, they had all intermingled for a moment.

No longer dwelling on these complex matters, Veyl's tear-streaked, sorrowful face slowly transformed into that of a stern lord the moment the new man walked in. He crossed his arms, nodded, and said, "Hold on—tell me, can you read?"

"I can't read!" the mercenary declared with unyielding confidence.

"Excellent, very excellent," Veyl said, clearly pleased with this simpleton's honesty. He then ventured, "What's your name?"

"Alexander. I don't have a surname!"

Almost immediately, the information on his "character sheet" changed, revealing more details:  —Loyal and Courageous Guardian: Alexander  Constitution: ?? (can't really estimate) Wisdom: –  Overall Combat Power (Hero): C (r) – "Compared to our lord's scrawny self, I could choke him out with one hand no problem."