Rise of the OtherGod Apostle: Not a Cult Leader, but a Serf?!

#062Reader Mode

#062

Anyway, the important thing on my to-do list today is lunch with Mr. Tartar Sauce – that’s my nickname for Tertius, the 6th Apostle. This guy has the unique ability of seeing emotions in color and he’s not exactly subtle about his crush on Adna.

His emotion-spying ability seems to make him jump to conclusions about what everyone’s thinking. And whenever he talks, he sprinkles in so many blessings, you’d think he was afraid of having a conversation without them.

And don’t get me started on his jealousy levels when anyone dares to get close to Adna.

He’s even started keeping an eye on me, which really says something.

It feels like I’ve been cast as the ‘convict’ in those drama serials where the kind-hearted heroine shares her water with a thirsty prisoner being carted off with the rest of the sinners. Seriously, where else would you see a male lead character fretting over a background extra like me?

But, if I’m being honest, my reluctance to meet Mr. Tartar Sauce isn’t just about his jealousy. It’s more about him being able to see right through me.

With Mr. Tartar Sauce, you gotta police not just your expressions but your inner monologue too.

Just thinking about this lunch is enough to make it sit like a rock in my stomach.

…I’m just hoping we can just eat and go our separate ways without any drama.

Today, the usual noon bell seemed to toll with a hint of doom for me. 

I stood up, feeling like I was about to walk the gangplank.

“Athanas, it’s noon. Time to wake up.” I tried to nudge him awake casually before heading down, but Athanas was out cold.

“Athanas?” When I reached out to give him a gentle shake, a sharp, metallic scent hit me.

 …Blood?

That’s when Athanas slowly lifted his head, one hand partially covering his face, and I could see a bright red line of blood trickling through his fingers.

A nosebleed?

I stood there, momentarily frozen in surprise.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded, tried to stand, but his legs betrayed him, sending him wobbling my way. I caught him without thinking.

What on earth?

Why would he suddenly start bleeding like this?

He was just sleeping; it’s not like he smacked his face on anything…

…Reminds me of Heretic Slayer, where your screen goes red and your character gets a nosebleed if your health drops below 10%.

Is that game mechanic somehow playing out IRL?

But his health can’t possibly be that low.

If the training this morning was that brutal, he would’ve had the nosebleed sooner.

And if it’s some kind of delayed reaction, we’d be dealing with more serious like rhabdomyolysis, right?

Maybe Athanas is just one of those people who get nosebleeds easily…

Could be high blood pressure, perhaps?

“…I’m fine now.”

But as Athanas stood up on his own, his face told a different story, smeared with blood.

Yeah, ‘fine’ is not the word I’d use.

And my robe? It didn’t escape unscathed, now featuring a lovely blood stain.

I couldn’t help but frown.

Can you even get blood out of wool?

It might seem heartless to fuss over clothes in the midst of this, but the thought was instinctual.

Imagine getting a stain on a uniform that costs an arm and a leg, especially when you’re scraping by on minimum wage.

You’d be worried about the cleanup costs too.

They wouldn’t actually charge me for this, would they?

Worst comes to worst, I might have to tell Athanas to take care of it.

Looking up at him, I saw Athanas trying to hold back a stream of blood seeping through his fingers, but it was a losing battle.

That’s not just a trickle; looks like a major artery or something burst.

I glanced around, hoping to find something, anything, to help clean up the mess, but came up short.

…I really wish I was in a T-shirt or something easy to strip off right now, but nope, this robe isn’t ideal at all.

The thought of using my already stained robe as a makeshift bandage crossed my mind, but that would leave me in an awkward spot, literally down to my underwear.

After a bit of internal debate, I decided to offer up the unnecessarily wide sleeve of my cuff.

“Here.”

Athanas seemed hesitant but—lacking any alternatives—eventually accepted the makeshift solution and placed it under his nose.

“…Thank you.”

“Do nosebleeds happen to you often? This one looks quite severe.”

“…No.”

“You might want to get that checked out by a healing priest,” I suggested, trying to be helpful.

“Pardon me, but would it be… alright with you?”

 “What do you mean?”

“Well…you mentioned having a lunch meeting with someone…”

?

Since when did I sign up to escort you to a healer?

As much as I don’t want to be cruel to someone who’s sick, especially looking like this—I had no intention of going anywhere near a maggot priest.

Why go there just to immediately faint while foaming at the mouth once stepping through the door?

Still leaving him hanging would be pretty low…

I put on my best empathetic face.

“Yes, that’s true. Unfortunately, I’ve got a prior engagement today… I’ll see if there’s anyone among the librarians who can help you.”

“Wait…” Athanas grabbed my other arm, the one not currently serving as a makeshift tissue. 

“Could you just stay like this for a little while?”

His sudden vulnerability caught me off guard, but I soon understood.

 Well, he can’t ask me to strip down or anything.

It made sense—he needed me to stay put since my sleeve was the only barrier between him and a bigger mess. But the whole situation felt kind of ridiculous. Athanas, all worried and flustered over a nosebleed…

In the game, Athanas would soldier on, even with blood streaming down his face.

Honestly, I don’t expect today’s peaceful Athanas to be anything like the battle-hardened version from a world on the brink. 

But still… 

It’s hard to picture this guy turning into a heretic butcher.

“…I’m okay now,” Athanas said as he gently let go of my sleeve. 

“Are you sure you’re alright? Did it stop bleeding?” 

I moved to check his face, but Athanas pulled back a bit. “…I might get more blood on you.”

“Considering you’ve already redecorated my outfit, a bit more won’t make much difference,” I joked, gently wiping his face with the cleaner part of my other sleeve. “I’ve got to change clothes now regardless.” 

Thankfully, the bleeding had already started to subside.

“Have you been pushing yourself too hard or under a lot of stress lately?”

“…No.”

“Is that so? Alright then. Maybe avoid any downward-facing positions for a while, just to be safe. Don’t want to risk it starting back up again.”

Best to play it safe until we’re sure it’s all sorted. Sure, this world’s got its healing blessings, but…

 …Wouldn’t that involve shoving maggots up his nose?

I’d rather live with a permanent status ailment of bleeding over that any day.

Of course, Athanas has received the Blessing of Order, so it probably doesn’t bother him too much.

Guess I should really look after my own health more.

 To steer clear of needing any maggot-based healing…

 “I’ve got someone waiting for me, so I should go now.” 

“…I’m sorry.”

 “Hey, it’s fine. You didn’t do it on purpose.”

 “I’m really sorry.”

“Seriously, it’s okay. You seem worn out; just take it easy today and get some rest.”

 “I’m truly sorry.”

 I said it’s okay, so why does he keep apologizing like that?

 It’s not like having a nosebleed is a major offense needing a three time apology. 

Is he just prepping in case he can’t cover the dry cleaning bill?

There’s no other reason to stress and make such a fuss over a bit of blood on clothes…

“Athanas, you don’t have to keep apologizing for something small like this. How are you going to apologize when you make a big mistake later?”

It’s not as if a bit of blood on my robe spells the end of days. He seemed a bit out of it, probably still groggy from waking up to a nosebleed. 

Seeing him this fragile… 

I settled a pale-looking Athanas into a nearby chair, snagged a librarian who was passing by, and asked them to keep an eye on him. Then I made my quick exit from the library. I hadn’t glanced at the time, but I was pretty sure about 40 minutes had slipped away since the noon bell rang. 

This isn’t good. 

For whatever reason, I’ve ended up making an Apostle wait—which is the last thing a ‘goblin’ should do. But this bloodstain fiasco might just work in my favor. It’s solid proof that I was caught up in a bit of an emergency situation…

“Mr. Ter!” 

“Fabio?” 

As soon as Tertius came into view, I hurried over. I wanted to make it clear my lateness wasn’t intentional. 

“Mr. Ter, I really hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long. You see, I was just—”

“…Whose blood is this?” Tertius cut me off, his expression tightening.

“Sorry? Oh, this is…” 

“Take it off.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Remove it. Now.”

 “…Here?”

“Yes. I’ll lend you my cloak, so take it off immediately.”

He can’t be serious.

“Um…can’t I just go back to my room to change?” I asked, feeling a sudden chill. 

“What? You’re saying you can’t remove it here?”

 Is that even a real question?

We were somewhat secluded, sure, but still very much outdoors.…

“It can’t be helped,” Tertius decided, then suddenly, he grabbed my shoulder and tore off a sleeve stained with blood.

What the hell?

I stood there, stunned, as he proceeded to tear off the other sleeve. Thankfully, I was wearing a chemise underneath, so I wasn’t left completely bare, but that was hardly the point.

Hugging myself in disbelief, I blurted out, “What are you doing?!”

“Blood can be dangerous. It’s a matter of precaution,” he said, as if his actions were perfectly normal.

“Wait, is there something in the doctrine against walking around with blood on your clothes?”

Tertius, having neatly folded my now-detached sleeves, explained, “…Blood can serve as a conduit for curses. And unlike blessings, curses can mask their source from even the gods.”

Turns out, Tertius did have a logical explanation for his crazy actions. I wouldn’t normally question the sanity of an Apostle of the Lord, but for a second there…

I nearly let another blasphemous thought slip through again.

So, was he sensing something off from the blood on me?

Did Athanas accidentally curse me or something?

“Is there a problem with the blood that was on me? Did you sense any negative energy?” I asked, both curious and a tad worried.

“Not specifically. But blood is often the starting point for many curses.”

“So, you’re concerned it could be dangerous…just based on the slight chance?” I wanted to make sure I got his point.

“Exactly. But it’s unusual for someone to deliberately smear their blood on another without a clear purpose.”

It dawned on me that Tertius might have misunderstood the situation here.

“Really… Who in the Cathedral would dare think of doing something like that? What happened wasn’t anything sinister. Someone just had a nosebleed, and I got some on me while trying to help out.”

“…Why did you choose to clean it with your clothes?”

“Because there wasn’t anything else suitable to use?”

“They could have used their own clothing,” he said, somewhat sharply.

His prickly comment took me by surprise.

Isn’t it the whole point of priesthood about selflessly giving up even your most prized possessions to aid those in need?

Why is he giving me flak for lending a hand? Isn’t helping out exactly what we’re encouraged to do?

“Well, there was practically blood all over him. I didn’t exactly have time to weigh my options.”

“And why was there blood on your shoulder?”

“He tried to get up, seemed a bit wobbly, and started to tip over. All I did was catch him to stop the fall.”

Tertius narrowed his eyes as he looked at me. “…Next time, just leave them be.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your desire to help isn’t the problem or wrong. It’s about being mindful of your own circumstances.”

What circumstances are those, exactly?

Aren’t goblins who’ve been shown a bit of grace by the Order supposed to pay it forward with good deeds?

And now you’re telling me to just walk on by when someone’s in trouble?

“You lack the means to discern if someone’s intentions are harmful or to defend yourself effectively. How can you be sure that person meant you no harm? Do you believe nothing bad can happen within the Cathedral?”

“…Are there really people who would do such things in the Cathedral where the Apostles are?”

Tertius let out a heavy sigh. “The Lord punishes sins. He doesn’t stand guard to prevent every possible misdeed.”

Right, that lady who went all medieval on her ex’s head was an ordained member too.

His point hit home quickly.

But then, isn’t everyone capable of wrongdoing? By that logic, should I just isolate myself completely…?

Cutting myself off from the world feels a lot like locking myself up as a prisoner.

…Or is it me they want isolated because I’m the dangerous one here?

A goblin, soaked in blood and insisting they were just ‘helping’ someone…

…I might advise them to keep their distance next time too.

“Fabio.”

“…Yes?”

“Did my words offend you?”

Oh sh*t.

I’d forgotten this bastard was basically a walking lie detector who could read emotions like an open book.

“No, no, I’m fine,” I said, doing my best to sound convincing. “Really, I appreciate you explaining it all to me. I understand where you’re coming from, I do. It’s just…”

“Just?”

“It’s just a bit disheartening to think I’ve got to be on my guard and suspect everyone I meet of having bad intentions right from the beginning…”

I hesitated a bit before continuing.

“Isn’t there a way to give people the benefit of the doubt? It seems harsh to mistrust them without cause, especially when their intentions might be pure.”

What I didn’t say out loud was that it made me feel downright filthy. It’d be one thing if I had some dangerous trait lurking within me, but with my lousy stats and pathetic trash of a trait, I was hardly a threat to anyone.

“…Is feeling good about people more important than your life?”

Nope, definitely not.

That snapped me back to reality.

“So, how can you tell if someone’s actually trustworthy, then?”

“If I teach you a method and they pass it once, will you consider them trustworthy forever and never doubt them again?”

Is he implying that just because someone seems decent after a first round interview doesn’t mean they can’t turn out to be a wolf in sheep’s clothing…?

It’s like they have to pass a stringent safety certification.