The most powerful miracle cast in this battle had no tangible manifestation.

  Perhaps if one was capable of seeing the flow of arcane tides, he would notice a shifting wave making its way from the priest’s stretched hand onto the young man in front of him, enveloping him in an instant, and seeping in through his mortal coil.

  Typically, spells or miracles could not freely manipulate the insides of a living creature, and even more so - its soul.

  However, [Soul Sap] was a miracle specializing in just that.

  But just as the tides of dense arcane energy touched the intangible essence at the core of the young man's being, they shuttered, like waves coming upon a mighty rock.

  Instead, something else made its way out.

  If one was perceiving the material plane, he would see nothing. Even if one was gazing at the Arcane Tides, he would not see it directly.

  However, in the second case, he would notice the tides parting way in a very peculiar shape, creating an outline of a shape by omission.

  It was the shape of a slithering tendril, stretching from where the young man was - straight to the priest.

  The next moment after casting the miracle should have been his moment of triumph. Instead, the whole world was painted black.

  In this fight, the priest was already beyond getting surprised – instead, he used his decades of experience to instantly surmise this must have been some sort of direct mental attack. Perhaps, beside his ridiculous sword, this youth also carried some kind of artifact with a spell reflection or retribution effect.

  After coming to his initial conclusion, and with the help of his high, 2nd realm Awareness, far surpassing a regular human, he managed to find a lifeline; He was now inside a mind space, likely stunned in the real world, and if he followed this lifeline ‘outside’, he would return to his senses.

  However, he also perceived something else.

  The darkness all around him… it was not actual darkness.

  Hundreds, thousands, perhaps millions of black tendrils of all shapes and sizes – twitching, moving in impossible angles, reaching for the priest yet staying in place at the same time.

  He felt an incredible headache assault his mind, and incomprehensible dread besieging his heart. He knew that if he stayed here for too long, he might never make his way out – at least, not as himself.

  However, over a century of life in this world - half as a devoted priest, and half as an above average mercenary, with ample experience from many decades ago - tempered his will.

  Something like this might have been among the worst things he has experienced, maybe even the worst, but not by far.

  The Death Priest willed his consciousness to ignore everything around him, to the extent that he could, focusing instead on the lifeline, and the proverbial light at the other end of that ‘rope’.

  He pulled himself upwards, through sheer force of will rather than brawn.

  Soon, the tendrils at the edges of his vision began to fade and dissipate.

  Before he knew it, he was back in the real world.

  However…

  clucka, clucka!

  The sound of bones hitting the ground reverberated through the cavern, as the dark-ashen sword had completed a near-instantaneous arc.

  Only a few meters separated the priest from the black-haired young man, the latter’s cold green eyes fixed on the former - yet, the subtle twitch in one of those eyes betrayed his emotions.

  [Bone Shield] !!!

  On instinct alone, the priest cast his quickest defensive miracle. However, before the bones rising from the ground could fully form a barrier in front of him, a single swing of the adamantium sword shattered it, sending the bones back to the stone cavern floor.

  The priest took a step backwards, his lower back touching the cold stone altar.

  “Wai..!”

  CRASH!

  Without a moment of hesitation, the metal weight at the end of Sebastian’s hilt collided with the old man's jaw, instantly dislocating it, and sending a mixture of blood, saliva and teeth flying to the side – along with the priest, who tumbled to the floor.

  “Wuuhaah! Uh-”

  His desperate attempts to speak, even now, were cut short by a heavy leather boot descending onto his knee.

  CRACK!

  “Uuuuughh!!”

  Despite the priest being a level 3 Path bearer, Death Priest was not a martial Path, and with the addition of his old age and the young man's strength, the bones snapped like dry wood, bending backwards in an unnatural shape.

  Next, the same boot stomped the priest’s ribs, delivering a similar fate.

  For the next dozen seconds or so, the young man stood there, silently watching the old man convulsing on the ground, his instincts driving him to try and take a breath he could no longer take.

  In the end, his consciousness faded. Noticing that, the young man stared at him for a few more seconds, before swinging his sword and severing his head.

  Thus, the dark god's servant reached the end of that path, before it could even fully begin.

  ***

  Drip. Drip.

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  I stood over the headless body, sword in hand. The moment of dark catharsis had passed – now, all I could feel was the unbearable pain, clawing at me from inside of my chest.

  I turned my head back to the altar, feeling my throat tighten, and my vision becoming slightly more blurry.

  “Amelia…”

  I circled around, taking another look at the hanging body.

  Her head was tilted downwards, and the expression on her face was almost serene – if not for the tears of blood, slowly escaping her eyes even now, falling into the small puddle of blood where the bowl used to sit.

  Drip. Drip.

  My eyes followed the chains, which led to the ceiling, and from there - to a wooden wheel on the floor, a few steps behind me, which I somehow missed earlier.

  I span it, lowering the body onto the altar.

  Before cutting her chains, I first had to place them on the smooth stone surface.

  I gently lifted her body. Her silky hair brushed against my hand. Her skin, which I could feel through the thin robe, was as cold as the stone beneath my feet.

  Feeling the grip on my stomach tightening, I carefully placed her against the altar. From afar, she would almost appear to be peacefully leaning on it, if not for her hands, stretched upwards and backwards due to the chains.

  CLANG!

  A single swing of my sword was enough to shatter the rusty old chains.

  But a moment before I finished my swing, I felt a chill brush against my skin – like that of a sudden gust of cold air, only that there was no trace of wind in this cave.

  Looking at Amelia's face, as I placed her body on the floor, and her hands over her chest, I noticed the tears of blood had stopped.

  Suddenly, I felt an ominous feeling. No, it wasn't just a feeling – I could almost physically sense something cold and abominable behind me.

  I instantly spun around, while picking my sword back from the ground and tightly gripping it in my hands.

  The field of bones, scattered around haphazardly after the fight, was rustling.

  The faint movements became more distinct, as many of the bones slowly began to rise into the air, flowing towards the center of the room.

  Making an instant decision, I began to slowly walk towards the ball of bones forming in the center of the room, sword raised and muscles tense.

  My escape route was cut off anyway, so whatever this thing was, whether I chose to run or fight, the shortest way was through.

  The ball of shifting bones suddenly ignited with a deathly green flame, and at the same time, I heard a voice.

  The voice came from the direction of the ball, but at the same time, it also felt like it came from all around me. The voice itself was booming yet raspy at the same time, reverberating within itself.

  [Mortal…]

  I instantly stopped, the grip on my sword tightening.

  [You have spilled blood at my altar… the blood of my faithful…]

  “...I wish I could spill it again.”

  I roughly understood what appeared in front of me. Yet, it made no difference.

  This was likely some kind of divine avatar or projection – however, either it was way beyond my power, and could avenge the priest with the greatest of ease, or it was very weak, and even the act of talking to me was done to buy time or lower my guard.

  Surprisingly, the sound that came from the ball vaguely resembled laughter.

  [Goood… there are few acts more proper than spilling the blood of the living before me.]

  I was taken aback – what kind of psycho god was this?

  [You… become my servant.]

  ‘…what?’

  [I can see your Path is all but complete, yet there is still a piece missing… a chance to lay a foundation most resilient.]

  ‘Wait, is it offering me a..?’

  [I can bestow upon you a blessing – one which would set you on the Path of a Death Knight, a Path most powerful and terrifying.]

  “...”

  I did not reply.

  Of course, I was certain that if this deity wasn't lying, this Path would indeed be extremely powerful.

  However, given the ease with which it discarded its priest, I had no doubt in my mind it would do the same thing to me – especially if it learned of my condition, turning me into a time-limited, expandable resource.

  …And of course, all that was secondary to the fact that this was an evil god, and only the most desperate or moronic would enter its service willingly.

  And even if I was convinced of its integrity… there were a thousand things I'd rather do before becoming its ally.

  However, its next words caught me off guard.

  [If that is not enough… I will bring back this girl.]

  “...what did you say?”

  Perhaps mistaking my stunned expression for hesitation, the thing continued.

  [Her soul still lingers within the shell… I can bind it back, if you'd like… Her memories shall remain… She will-]

  [Charge] !!

  Within a moment, the distance between me and the floating abomination became less than the length of my sword.

  [Arc Slash] !!!

  With every shred of strength, I swung my sword in a wide horizontal arc, severing the ball of bones into two near-perfect halves.

  Before the last word was fully uttered, the two halves slowly descended to the floor, like lead sinking through water.

  Unlike every magic I used the sword on before, the flames did not instantly fizzle – instead, they first tried to reconnect, but failed to bridge the gap, dissipating faster than they could stretch.

  As the unholy energy slowly receded, becoming fainter and fainter, I heard the voice - now sounding as if it came from a great distance - for the last time.

  [One day… you will… regret… today's decision… mortal…]

  With that, the last of the deathly green light faded out of existence, and the two half-spheres collapsed into piles of bone once more.

  “If I ever come across your followers… I swear, I will cut them all down. Any place, any time.”

  If before, my grudge was largely limited to the priest, hearing the god’s ‘gracious’ offer to turn Amelia into some sort of zombie sealed it for me.

  I didn't care much about this world and its cults, demons and gods – but if I ever came across any groups or individuals dedicated to undead gods, especially this one, I would do my best to make this world just a little bit better.

  I felt an incredible wave of fatigue wash over me. It was even more so mental than physical. The horrible feeling slowly returned, too.

  I stumbled over to a nearby wall, putting the sword back in my sheath, and taking it off.

  I sat on the cold stone, sheath in hand, leaning against the rough wall.

  I didn't know how much time had passed, but suddenly, I heard heavy footsteps coming from the cave's entrance.

  There was no point running, nor was there any way to avoid meeting the unexpected guest. What's more, I was simply too tired to run. I didn't even feel like getting up.

  Reluctantly, I turned my head towards the cavern's entrance. Soon, a familiar figure appeared in it.

  “You really are a beacon for trouble, Sebastian.”