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

#124Reader Mode

#124

A faint sense of unease crept over me.

It doesn’t exactly feel ominous, though…

How do I even explain this?

…It’s like he suddenly finds me interesting?

“Hey, why are you just staring at me? I told you to ask another question.”

“You seem… friendlier all of a sudden.”

The boy’s expression went stiff.

“…So? Is that a problem?”

“No, I’m just trying to figure out what I said to make your favorability increase. It’s kinda messing with me.”

“You seriously think I’m some NPC that gives out points if you choose the right dialogue options?”

“Well, didn’t it go up?”

He let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Maybe it’s because you’re the first player I’ve met who actually wants to go home. That made my favorability skyrocket.”

“…Wait, there are players who don’t want to go back?”

“Believe it or not, yeah.”

“Those crazy bastards. Who in their right mind would choose to stay here?”

When I grimaced, the boy suddenly burst out laughing.

“Oh man, that’s hilarious! You’re right, they’re completely insane! Total lunatics!”

…I wasn’t even trying to be funny?

His mood swings were giving me whiplash, but I decided to roll with it. For now.

“Okay, second question. Tell me about that crazy bastard you mentioned earlier. And if you can, give me a quick rundown on the other players too.”

“Are you seriously trying to count all that as one question?”

“It’s basically just asking about the players, right? Why not?”

“Wow, didn’t think you’d be that shameless. You little thief!”

Then he slapped me on the back, out of nowhere.

What the—?

Who’s calling who a thief here?

Unbelievable.

“Fine, I was going to warn you about that lunatic anyway, so I’ll let it go. That crazy bastard… where do I even begin?”

“How about the beginning? When did you first meet him?”

“Fair enough. I first met that crazy bastard in Bonaparte’s group chat.”

“Bonaparte?”

“Yeah, you know how saying someone’s username opens up a chat window? So, we use nicknames in the group chat instead.”

Like forum handles, got it.

“Bonaparte’s nickname is… well, ‘Napoleon Bonaparte,’ but with a ‘nya’ in front of it… You know who that is, right?”

I didn’t need an explanation. I got it immediately.

But the fact that he met this ‘crazy bastard’ in a group chat run by ‘Nyapoleon’…

So, the crazy bastard isn’t Nyapoleon?

“Is the group chat a feature of the system? How’d you even get in?”

“I got a message from Bonaparte on day five after I possessed this body. Back then, I was still in denial about being stuck in the Dark Realm, so I spent those days hiding under a blanket, trying to make sense of it all…”

Nobles must get spoon fed even when they’re sulking in bed for five straight days.

“Then, out of the blue, a message window popped up,” he continued. “Bonaparte said he was randomly calling out usernames he knew, and I just happened to be one of the players who replied.”

I considered doing that on my first day at the Cathedral, but someone actually had the nerve to try it, huh…

“He claimed that setting up a space for players to swap info and chat would be a game-changer. Said he’d figure out a way for all of us to communicate. According to him, working together would definitely be the key to surviving.”

“…You didn’t actually fall for that and share your unit info, did you?”

The Prophet gave me a sheepish grin, and I knew right then.

“You did, didn’t you?”

He nodded, looking a bit embarrassed. “…Just that I’m the Distorted One’s player. That’s it. He stopped me from saying anything else, though. Told me not to reveal too much about the unit I possessed.”

Is this guy really that dumb?

“So, how does this group chat work, anyway? Does the player who invites people become the admin or something?”

“Nah, nothing like that. It’s all manual.”

…A manual group chat?

I couldn’t even picture how that’d work.

“Bonaparte would gather up whatever people were saying, then send it out to everyone through messages… That’s how it ran.”

So basically…

Nyapoleon: Anomalocaris said, ‘Isn’t it crazy hot lately?’

Nyapoleon: Hallucigenia said, ‘Yeah, totally.’

Me: Super hot.

Nyapoleon: Opabinia said, ‘Super hot.’

Nyapoleon: Yup, it’s definitely hot.

That’s how he ran it?

It’s ridiculously inefficient.

“Wouldn’t the chat admin have to spend all day talking to himself, then?”

“He said he bought a feature to automate that with his Clear Points.”

…If he’s Mother God’s player, he must be swimming in points.

“Couldn’t Bonaparte just manipulate the info with a setup like that?”

It didn’t make sense. How could anyone trust it? For all you knew, everyone else in the chat, except Nyapoleon, could be fake players made up by Bonaparte.

“Some players actually shared their real usernames.”

So if you’re suspicious, you can just DM them to check, huh?

“…But even then, you can’t be sure the ones hiding their usernames are real people or not.”

“That’s just a risk you have to take.”

The Prophet admitted he didn’t try messaging anyone directly because he didn’t want to reveal his own username.

“There were 15 people in the chat, and six of them were using their real usernames.”

…More people revealed themselves than I expected.

In that situation, it’s probably easier to just use your username. Nyapoleon already knows it anyway.

“At first, everyone was actively chatting about the game’s system or sharing new info they found. I mostly asked questions.”

“Did you ever slip up and accidentally reveal who you were while asking?”

“…Bonaparte helped me a lot with that. Gave me advice.”

Every time the Prophet was about to blow his cover, Bonaparte would step in, asking if he was really sure he wanted to say that. He’d even privately explain what kind of info the other player might be fishing for, right before the Prophet answered.

That’s a suspicious level of helpfulness.

In a setup like that, Bonaparte could easily kill the Prophet, take over his identity, and no one would be any the wiser.

“So, Bonaparte knows who you really are, huh?”

“…Yeah.”

Realizing he could easily get caught up by answering loaded questions, the Prophet decided to just sit back and observe instead of diving into the conversations. One player, though, grabbed his attention… a guy going by the nickname “Insanity.”

Calling yourself ‘Insanity,’ huh…

I couldn’t help but think this guy might have a serious case of chuunibyou.¹T/N: A chuunibyou (also known as “eighth-grader syndrome”) is a Japanese term used to describe a young teen who acts like they’ve got special powers or are meant for something extraordinary, often with a pretty dramatic or edgy attitude to match.

“Is that the crazy bastard you mentioned earlier?”

“Yep, that’s him.”

So, ‘crazy’ wasn’t an insult. It’s literally what people call him.

Insanity was like a walking encyclopedia, almost as if he had the game’s wiki pulled up at all times. Lots of players wanted to talk to him, but he refused to reveal his username and would only communicate through Bonaparte.

“Are you sure Insanity and Bonaparte aren’t the same person?”

“I wondered that too…”

Their chat styles were pretty different, but whenever Bonaparte gave the Prophet ‘advice,’ his tone sounded oddly like Insanity’s.

“So, what? Same guy, different nicknames?”

“…At first, I figured it was just like an alt account. You know, people act differently when they’re an admin versus a regular user.”

That theory came up in the group chat a lot, but in the end, everyone just left it up to interpretation—whether Insanity was a real player or just another one of Bonaparte’s alt accounts.

“I also got a ton of pressure to prove I was a real player, but I just ignored it.”

Despite this, one player managed to sneak a message through to the Prophet. Just like with Napoleon, they somehow guessed the right username.

“That player? He was the one chosen by the God of War. He mentioned they were setting up a new info exchange group chat, this time led by the Rider of Civilization’s player, excluding Bonaparte.”

“Did you join?”

“He said he’d already told everyone in the group that he knows my username.”

His first impression of them wasn’t exactly great, but once he joined, it turned out to be less weird than expected. It felt more like a detective club, focused on uncovering who was hiding behind the anonymous nicknames in Napoleon’s group chat.

Most people assumed Insanity was just one of Napoleon’s alt accounts. But the God of War’s player? He wasn’t buying it. He swore Insanity was someone else. Someone he knew personally.

“Who?”

“You know, that famous eight-letter player.”

The Prophet made a tapping motion, pretending to type on an invisible keyboard with his left hand.

“qwer…”

“Exactly. That guy.”

Obviously, I know who that is…

And it’s definitely not Insanity.

At that moment, it clicked. I knew who the God of War’s player was: the strategy game vet who went by ‘Pandemonium.’

Someone he knows well, my ass.

He’s just throwing out random guesses.

“He kept going on about how, if he were an Othergod, that famous player would’ve been his first pick, no question. He said it made zero sense for a guy that obsessed with this game not to show up here.”

That bastard, I even bought him lunch once.

“…But if you called out his username and he didn’t respond, doesn’t that mean he’s not here?”

“He said maybe the guy bought a username change with Clear Points or is using an alt account. He figured that player would’ve predicted all of this ahead of time.”

Half of that wild theory is actually spot on.

Though I didn’t show up with an alt account on purpose.

“Anyway, they started debating which Othergod that famous player would’ve picked if he really was Insanity.”

“And? What did they decide?”

“They narrowed it down to The Distorted One or The Lord of Nightmares, since the Mother God’s player was already outed.”

Wrong~ The right answer was Happy God.

Ugh…

Damn it.

“So, what made you start doubting that Bonaparte and Insanity were the same person?”

The boy’s face darkened at the question.

“…Insanity joined the group chat run by Rider’s player.”

I frowned. “Does the chat work the same way? Couldn’t it just be that the Rider’s player is working with Bonaparte now?”

“He said he never intended to send those messages. He didn’t even invite Insanity, and he swore they never talked. But whenever he sent a message, Insanity’s replies would show up right next to his.”

F*ck, that just gave me chills.

“So does that mean Insanity hacked the system?”

The Prophet shook his head, tapping his temple.

“Not the system. Rider’s player thought his mind might’ve been hacked. Said he could already be under Insanity’s control. He even talked about going to the Order for help. Then, he vanished. No matter how many times I call out his username, no window pops up.”

“So, does that mean…”

He’s dead?

“When you get a Game Over, that’s what happens. But who knows? Maybe he’s still wandering around in the Order… completely insane.”

Shit, that’s seriously creepy.

“God of War’s player kept saying Insanity was definitely the Distorted One’s player and warned me to be careful.”

“…And what did you say?”

“I told him the truth. That I’m the Distorted One’s player, and Insanity is probably with The Lord of Nightmares. I didn’t want anyone else getting logged out permanently. Plus… we’d gotten kinda close.”

The Prophet trailed off, his face somber.

“…Then I got a message from Bonaparte. He said it was from Insanity.”

The message was short:

“Have you forgotten the advice I gave you?”

“That’s terrifying.”

“I was too freaked out to ask what he meant.”

“What about the God of War player? Did you tell him about the message?”

“Yeah, I did. But after that, he stopped responding. Pretty sure he blocked me.”

He probably thought you had some backdoor access and were spying on him.

Just like how I was worried that Oblivion might be eavesdropping on my conversations with Athanas.

I need to be careful too.

I can’t share too much sensitive info with this kid.

“What’s your third question?”

“The third….”

I had planned to ask for his username, but now it seemed smarter to wait until I had more to go on.

“…The second question took a while, so I’ll ask after we’re done here.”

“You’re not stalling just to avoid telling me the ending, are you?”

“No, I’ll tell you now.”

It’s not that long anyway.

“The Distorted One’s cult leader unit usually has a desperate wish, right? In the end, the Distorted One pretends to grant it… and then backstabs them.”

“…The Othergod betrays the contractor?”

“Yeah. Betrayal and deception are that bastard’s essence. More precisely, disappointment. So of course, the contractor gets screwed over too.”

“Then why would anyone ever make a contract with the Distorted One?”

“Someone like you, who doesn’t know better, would.”

“…….”

“Anyway, my advice? Never trust the Distorted One. Always question its quests. It’s only out to mess with you.”

“Actually…”

“Hm?”

The boy’s purple snake-like eyes flicked up at me.

“A quest just popped up telling me to get on your good side.”

“What?”

“How do you think I should interpret that?”