"Well… this is bigger than we expected." Mary's voice was low, edged with unease.
"Then call the boss. Let him know," Ren replied.
Ren exhaled sharply, already dialing.
"Yeah… you won't believe what we found."
The next day, Elias arrived at an aging port industry facility—one that had long since lost its former prestige. Rust clung to its iron gates, and the air carried the faint bitterness of neglect.
"Ahh… Elias, my boy. Or should I say—Apostle." Mr. Simson spread his arms wide, a smile stretching across his wrinkled face. "It's really been a while. Look at you… all grown up."
"It has been a while, Sir Simson," Elias said calmly. "It's good to see you again."
"Come, come. Let's talk in my office."
The office was modest, dimly lit, and carried the scent of stale paper and something far less pleasant beneath it.
"Now then," Simson began, settling into his chair. "To what do I owe this visit? I imagine you've been quite busy… being an Apostle and all."
"Nothing much," Elias replied, his tone neutral. "I thought I'd visit an old friend of my late parents."
Simson laughed, a little too loudly. "Glad you still remember an old man like me."
A knock interrupted them.
"Sir, your tea."
"Ah, thank you."
Simson handed a cup to Elias. "Here. It may not be the finest, but it keeps an old man warm."
Elias stared into the cup for a moment… then took a sip.
"It stinks."
Simson blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
Elias lowered the cup slowly.
"This entire place reeks of sin."
The room fell silent.
"I—I don't quite understand what you mean, Elias—"
"Address me as Apostle," Elias cut in coldly. "Have some respect."
Simson stiffened. "O-Of course… Apostle."
A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
"Is it just me… or is it getting hot in here?"
Elias chuckled softly.
"A few of my subordinates discovered what you were doing last night."
For a brief moment, nothing happened.
Then—
Elias's eyes ignited, glowing a searing orange.
The tea in his hand began to boil.
Simson's breath hitched. "I—look, Apostle, it's all a misunderstanding—"
"You know," Elias said, tilting his head slightly, "the look on your face when you were being paid by those traffickers…"
His voice dropped, almost gentle.
"You looked very happy."
"Where is that smile now?"
Simson collapsed into panic. "They were just partners! Limited partners! I didn't know—they were traffickers! You have to believe me!"
He was drenched in sweat now, trembling uncontrollably.
"They're dead," Elias said simply. "My subordinates took care of that."
"Damn… finally done," Mary muttered, stretching her arms.
"You know," she added, "I think our so-called boss is actually insane."
"Don't say that when you don't know anything about him," Ren replied.
"Oh? Then what is there to know?"
Ren hesitated, then spoke.
"For starters… his name is Elias Vortigern."
"Some call him… the Proclaimed Son of God."
Mary raised an eyebrow.
"He's the first son of the Vortigern family after countless failed heirs," Ren continued. "They say from the moment he was born… you could feel divine heat radiating from him."
Mary went quiet.
"They were a proud family. Prestigious."
A pause.
"That is… before the death of his parents."
"Your mere existence disgusts me."
Elias's voice echoed coldly through the office.
"What happened to them?" Mary asked.
"They say bandits killed them in a raid," Ren answered.
Mary exhaled. "Oh…"
Ren's expression darkened.
"But truth be told…"
"It is decided."
Elias stood unmoving, his glowing eyes fixed on Simson.
"By my judgment… you are sentenced to burn in hell for all eternity."
Flames began to crawl along the walls.
"And your punishment… begins now."
Simson screamed.
"He burned them to death," Ren finished quietly.
The entire building was engulfed in flames.
And at its center—
Elias Vortigern sat calmly, untouched by the inferno…
…sipping his tea.