The Only Apostle Without a God

The Rift stretched before him—broken ground, twisted skies, and the coppery stench of blood still clinging to the air.

Jin Seok-woo staggered forward, every step dragging as exhaustion seeped through his bones. His breath came in short, ragged bursts, but he didn't let down his guard. He couldn't.

Then—voices.

He stopped cold.

Shapes moved through the Rift's crimson mist—four human figures, walking with calm precision, their weapons gleaming faintly in the unnatural light.

Apostles.

Real Apostles.

Seok-woo's pulse quickened. He'd known they existed—humans chosen by the gods, wielding divine systems, forming guilds and leading armies. But this was the first time he'd seen them up close.

"Hold," the man at the front said sharply, raising a hand. He was tall, broad-shouldered, carrying a silver spear with divine sigils etched into the blade. "He's not a monster."

The others slowed. One—a cocky-looking young man with twin daggers—scowled. "What's he doing here? Civilians don't last five minutes in this Rift."

Another—an archer with sharp amber eyes—pointed to the battlefield Seok-woo had left behind. "Look at the bodies," she murmured. "He fought."

Before he could speak, the last figure stepped forward.

A girl.

She moved differently. Her steps were soundless. Her breath didn't fog in the cold air. Midnight-black hair brushed her shoulders, tied loosely behind her neck. Her face—expressionless, almost statuesque—was framed by cold gray eyes that seemed to look through him.

Her presence was suffocating.

Distant.

Powerful.

She didn't speak immediately—she simply studied him with those unreadable eyes, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of an elegant silver blade.

The team leader broke the silence. "We're Clearance Team Seven," he said. "I'm Min Joon-seok. We're here to suppress this Rift."

Seok-woo nodded, carefully neutral. "I… was just trying to survive."

He kept his words vague. Careful. He knew the rules of this world: Apostles received Systems from their gods, and those Apostles could form guilds or groups, sharing fragments of their divine power with their subordinates. Only those under the wing of a god could wield power.

And he—he had no god.

He was his own.

And that was something no one could ever know.

The dagger-wielding Apostle narrowed his eyes. "What's your crest? Who's your god?"

Seok-woo forced his expression to remain calm. "It's… complicated."

The archer glanced at him curiously but said nothing.

The girl, though—her eyes lingered. Longer than the others. As if she sensed something wrong, something… off.

But she didn't speak.

Didn't accuse.

Only cold, distant observation.

Min Joon-seok exhaled sharply. "If you're not hostile, fine. Stay back or help. Either way, this Rift's unstable. We need to finish this."

He nodded once toward the girl. "That's Seo Ara."

Her name suited her. Icy. Sharp. Beautiful in the way winter storms were beautiful—lethal and untouchable.

Seok-woo's eyes met hers for the briefest second. She gave no reaction. No emotion.

Then the ground beneath them trembled.

A guttural roar shattered the stillness.

The System chimed in his mind:

[System Alert: Rift Stability Critical. Boss Spawn Imminent.]

Weapons were drawn. Divine energy flickered to life.

Joon-seok gave him one last glance. "If you can fight—fight. Otherwise, stay clear."

Seok-woo's jaw tightened. "I'll fight."

For a split second, Seo Ara's eyes flickered—barely perceptible. Something close to curiosity. Then it was gone.

The monstrous shadow of the Rift's final guardian emerged, towering, snarling, unnatural.

And without hesitation, Jin Seok-woo stepped into the fray beside strangers who could never know the truth:

That he bore no god's name.

That he stood alone.

And that he would rise without them.