“Noooo!”
A piercing scream erupted from Rubin.
Simultaneously, I brought down my trump card—the Bloodied Mace of the Inquisitor (S)—onto the golden idol.
BANG!
A deafening crash resounded, followed by a system message.
[The Bloodied Mace of the Inquisitor reacts to the alien magic! The sacred conviction of the mace obliterates the unfamiliar and malevolent power!]
This weapon, simply put, was an S-rank artifact designed to annihilate magic. It wasn’t just any artifact—it was the mace once wielded by the inquisitors of old, during an era when magic was hunted as heresy.
The inquisitors, zealots driven by a nearly mad conviction, would crush anything even remotely magical with this very mace. Over centuries, that fervor imbued the weapon with a cursed aura, transforming it into a tool that not only purified magic but utterly destroyed it.
"It wasn’t easy borrowing this from the Church Museum," I thought.
Initially, I’d planned to use a standard magic purification artifact. But those were prohibitively expensive—and lacked efficiency.
So, I had a radical idea: fight poison with poison.
If an artifact cursed with malevolent energy could clash with an equally malevolent magic source, the two opposing forces might destroy each other.
As expected, the collision of these incompatible energies created a chaotic upheaval.
CRACK!
The sound was grotesque, like the space itself being torn apart. The backlash of the clash surged through me, splitting pain radiating through every nerve in my body.
"This... is worse than I imagined."
I was using my purification skill, Holy Accord, alongside the mace's power to crush the idol’s corrupted core. For any ordinary artifact, this would have been over in seconds.
But this was no ordinary relic. The ancient power embedded within the golden idol resisted fiercely, pushing back against the mace. That resistance transferred directly to my body, making every moment a test of endurance.
[Core Destruction in Progress]
― Current Progress: 13%
The progress bar in the system window crawled upward, painfully slow. Yet it was moving, even if only by inches.
― 36%
― 54%
― 79%
As the percentage ticked upward, I clenched my teeth, silently praying. Faster, please, faster!
Then, just as it reached 91%—
“Gah—!”
Blood spurted from my mouth as a sharp pain erupted inside. The collision of opposing forces had finally taken its toll, damaging my internal organs.
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
To make matters worse, another message appeared.
[Skill duration exceeded. The skill Holy Accord has been deactivated!]
“What?!”
My heart sank. Twenty minutes have passed already?!
Without the synergy between my skill and the mace, the destruction progress slowed dramatically.
"It’s fine. Only 9% left. I can survive this. I just need to hold out a little longer, and with a high-grade potion, I can heal the damage."
I clung to that thought, desperately finding comfort in the idea that the ordeal was nearly over.
But then, the golden idol twisted. Its serene visage contorted into a grotesque expression, and a chilling sound escaped.
[Kiiiiiik… Kikikik…]
What was worse, a dark, viscous energy began seeping out of the idol. It was unlike anything I’d seen before—a formless black mist, thick and suffocating.
“What the hell is that…?”
The mist began swirling ominously, as though searching for a host.
And then it lunged—straight at me.
----------------------------------------
A Dream of the Past
I had a dream—a memory from the time before I became Nikelus.
It was the night my friends dragged me to a bar after I’d repeatedly turned down their invitations. I’d been too busy, but that night, they wouldn’t take no for an answer.
One of them, already drunk, suddenly brought up an old classmate.
“Hey, remember that guy? The one in the next class over? He was set on going to sports college until that accident broke his leg.”
I vaguely recalled the person, but I didn’t interrupt. My friend, however, seemed thrilled, like he’d stumbled upon buried treasure.
“Guess what? He’s making bank now! Already bought a house and a car.”
“A house? Probably thanks to his parents.”
“Nope, earned it himself. He’s been selling items from that game—what’s it called? World’s End Survival or something. Made like 100 million won in a single sale.”
“Wait, 100 million?!”
“Yeah, apparently rich guys and even tycoons are dropping ridiculous money on characters and items. That’s how he made his fortune.”
The conversation spiraled into laughter, with someone joking about quitting everything to become a professional gamer. None of them meant it seriously. They had secure paths waiting for them.
But for me, who was buried in debt and struggling to pay for my father’s medical bills, that story was a revelation.
"If he could do it, maybe…"
Fueled by desperation and a drunken haze, I spent every last won I had on a second-hand gaming capsule.
It was scratched, stained, and barely functional, but I didn’t care. I was elated.
"All I need to do now is make money."
At first, I crafted potions, selling them to wealthier players. But after a month of grueling work—days without eating properly, nights without sleep—all I had to show for it was 238,000 won.
That was when I realized: potions wouldn’t cut it.
So, I shifted my focus to character progression, pouring in every ounce of time and effort. Slowly but surely, I made progress. But just when I started seeing results, my father passed away.
After his death, I buried myself in the game—not for survival anymore, but as an escape.
And then one day, I received an unexpected message.
----------------------------------------
[Congratulations! You’ve been selected for a special event!]
A golden ticket to a mysterious dungeon called the Lucidmiller Cathedral.
It promised untold rewards for completing its challenges.
For the first time in forever, I’d smiled.
----------------------------------------
Back to Reality
I jolted awake, pain surging through my body. Every limb throbbed.
“You’re up?” Rubin’s voice pulled me back. “I told you, didn’t I? This was dangerous.”
“Yeah… but what happened while I was out?”
I pieced together fragments of my memory. The golden idol, the black mist, Rubin transforming…
“That red blur that leapt in front of me—was that you?”
“Yes. As your guide, I’m small like this. But as your guardian, I can transform into something larger. That’s how I swallowed the mist.”
“You… swallowed it? Are you okay?”
“For now. You managed to purify 91% of it, so it’s not immediately fatal.”
“Not immediately fatal? That’s not comforting, Rubin.”
Rubin avoided my gaze, instead pointing at the idol. “It’s purified now. Take it.”
“Are you sure?”
“No one remembers this place or the god it once honored. It’s yours.”
Rubin handed me a silver pendant.
“This contains my memories. Take it with you.”
As I inspected the pendant, a system notification appeared.
[Main Oracle 5 complete! Would you like to claim your reward?]
― Yes
― No