Rise of the OtherGod Apostle: Not a Cult Leader, but a Serf?!
#158
T/N: Thanks for the coffee Praxis! (´• ω •`) ♡
#158
So, I’m the one who’s still unsure about our ‘relationship’? Is that what you’re getting at?
Geez, this is ridiculous. Just a few days ago, I was loudly proclaiming to Adna and Ter, “Homosexuality? Me? Absolutely not, couldn’t be me!” And now, all of a sudden, I’m supposed to be Athanas’s fated lover? I can’t even imagine the whiplash they must be experiencing right now.
If I’m being completely honest, I don’t even know how I feel about Athanas. At best, it’s just… “Yeah, he’s nice, I guess?”
So our acting scenario is that I rejected his love confession at first, but now I’ve somehow been roped into a relationship under the noble banner of “discovering what love truly means”?
“Haha….”
My laugh came out more like a strangled wheeze. Being this close to Athanas, trapped in his overly sweet, dreamy-eyed stare, sent a wave of discomfort from my gut straight to my esophagus. It was like that unbearable tension when you’re trying not to burst out laughing during a serious moment, except multiplied by a thousand.
Maybe my terrible acting will somehow make this whole thing believable? Method acting through sheer incompetence.
“Athanas…” I placed my hands on his shoulders, just enough to put a little space between us. “I… I’ll probably be staying here for a while. I can’t really explain why…”
“I see.”
“…And I might not be able to tell you later, either. I don’t even know how long I’ll be here.”
“I understand.”
“We probably won’t get any private time together for a while. Is that… still okay with you?”
“I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t disappointing. But it’s better than not seeing you at all.”
Ugh.
His reply hit me like a slap to the face, and I felt my whole body tense up. A shiver ran through me, and I was pretty sure my soul had left my body from the cringe romance overload.
I couldn’t keep staring into Athanas’s eyes—his smitten gaze was way too intense. Instead, I turned to the Apostles, hoping for some sanity. Adna was stone-faced, her expression unreadable as always, while Tertius had already turned away, his eyes squeezed shut like he’d just witnessed the most mortifying thing ever.
Perfect. He’s literally noping out of this.
Tertius’s secondhand embarrassment was all the confirmation I needed. I took a step back, desperate to end this sugar-coated disaster of acting.
“…That’s good then.”
I definitely had something else I meant to say, but my brain chose this exact moment to blue-screen.
Whatever. It probably wasn’t that important.
Athanas is a big boy. He can handle himself.
“Fabio.”
Adna’s voice, thankfully, interrupted the awkwardness.
“Tell your lover you love him. Right now.”
“Pardon?”
“Hurry.”
When I glanced over, I saw Adna gripping Tertius’s face tightly, physically turning his head toward us.
“What do you think you’re doing?! I told you I’m not comfortable with this!” Tertius snapped, trying to fight it.
“I’m proving a point. Sixth Apostle, unless you’re volunteering your eyeballs for this, shut it.”
“Wait, what are you—?”
Before I could even finish the thought, Athanas stepped in front of me protectively.
“O Impregnable Adna. I do not wish for my beloved’s heart to be placed on trial.”
Oh shit.
I bit my tongue so hard I nearly drew blood, fighting the hysterical laughter bubbling up my throat.
“Wouldn’t it benefit you too? Don’t you want to know if Fabio loves you?”
“Whatever answer he gives, my heart and my actions will not change.”
Adna turned her eyes on Tertius. “Number Six. Is he telling the truth?”
“Let go, already!” Tertius growled, clearly done with the manhandling.
“Answer me.”
“…It’s true,” he gritted out. “Now back off!”
Athanas stepped forward with gentle insistence. “I have no objection to being tested. But Sextus of Emotions, if my beloved doesn’t consent, do not read anything from him.”
“Pffft—”
Three pairs of eyes instantly locked onto me.
I was losing the war against the laughter clawing its way up my throat.
“Cough—no, it’s nothing,” I managed, trying to look serious.
Sextus of Emotions? There’s no way that’s actually his title. No, focus! Get it together.
Trap #1: If You Think It’s Funny and Laugh, You’re Screwed.
Okay. Sad thoughts. Think sad thoughts.
Right… Perpetua’s misery? That should help.
After the fake funeral, everything she went through…
[“Why do you reject the blessing? If you do not sincerely, desperately long for it from the depths of your heart, the Lord will not descend upon you.”
The holy knight’s solemn tone was so absurd it made me burst into laughter.
Why would I ever want such a ‘blessing’?
If the Lord truly came upon me, it’d just mean endless suffering. Ripped apart, healed back together, only to be torn apart again.
The holy knight let out a quiet sigh. Almost pitying.
“If that’s your choice, then I must intervene. Allow me to guide you until your heart rediscovers its rightful devotion to Ophea, our master.”]
Fuck that.
I shut the system window the second I skimmed a bit more.
These people aren’t just fanatics. They’re full-blown psychopaths.
A holy knight of Ophea, huh…?
No one cries out for pain relief or comfort unless they’re already in agony. Which means Ophea’s power thrives on suffering. The more agony in the world, the stronger Ophea becomes.
So basically… divine torture specialists, stamped with a holy seal.
I felt sick to my stomach.
How is this not an evil god?
Yeah, I’d heard Ophea’s relics could inflict a “Curse of Pain,” but I figured that meant something like mild discomfort or a dull ache. Not a medieval-grade, blood-and-screaming torture simulation.
“Fabio?”
Athanas’s voice snapped me out of my downward spiral.
Shit. Now really isn’t the time for an existential meltdown.
Zoning out wouldn’t normally be a big deal, but with Ter around analyzing my every micro-emotion… What’s he thinking, seeing me go from giggling to soulless stare in two seconds flat?
That I’ve completely lost it? That I’m emotionally unstable?
“…You need rest,” Adna announced abruptly.
“No, I’m fine.”
“There’s a great deal I need to teach you. Lesson one, clearly, is the difference between ‘fine’ and ‘not fine.’”
“…Pardon?”
“You are not fine. That is my official judgment.”
Before I could argue, Adna scooped me up like I weighed nothing and slung me over her shoulder.
“Wait—Athanas! Athanas!”
His name slipped out on instinct as I panicked, and I regretted it instantly.
From my upside-down perch, I caught a glimpse of Ter physically holding Athanas back.
Goddamn it.
“Um… see you later! Don’t worry, I’m fine!” I called out, trying to sound cheerful and probably failing miserably.
“Are you questioning my judgment?” Adna asked, her voice dangerously calm.
“No, Apostle Adna. Not at all. Definitely not what I meant…”
***
Tertius’s feelings toward Athanas had long since outgrown simple dislike. What he felt now was deeper. A loathing that had burrowed deep and now burning with unwavering fury.
After sacrificing only his little finger…
Last night, Adna had reached out to him through telepathy, sharing a truth that upended everything: Fabio’s “regenerated” left arm wasn’t the full extent of his sacrifice. Another body part that had been restored was almost certainly because of Valentine’s blessing.
When Tertius demanded details, Adna’s reply hit like ice.
His eye. Athanas had taken Fabio’s eye.
Worse still, Fabio had endured the sacrifice without the Blessing of Pain Relief. The knowledge ignited something white-hot in Tertius, rage tearing through him like fire through dry grass. Whether Fabio had offered it willingly or been forced made little difference. Such cruelty had no justification.
In the privacy of his thoughts, Tertius had already passed judgment. He would find Athanas guilty, regardless of any claimed ignorance of Fabio’s suffering, and a suitable punishment would follow. After all, Valentine’s doctrine left no room for ambiguity.
A lover’s body is the same as one’s own.
If you cannot alleviate your beloved’s suffering, you must bear it as your own. But to mutilate someone merely for a trophy in some sacred reliquary? That wasn’t suffering shared. That was suffering that never should have existed at all. If Athanas had put Fabio through such pain for something so meaningless, he had broken the most sacred teachings of Valentine.
Perhaps I’m stretching the interpretation, but…
Tertius was already considering sentencing Athanas to enforced labor under constant surveillance. And no, he assured himself, this had nothing to do with how quickly Athanas had stolen Fabio’s heart during their brief time together. Certainly not.
Still… it’s suspicious. How Athanas didn’t show even the slightest surprise upon seeing me.
The thought troubled him as he recalled their first meeting. Tertius had used Nephiton’s holy relic to disguise himself as a common servant, yet when they were finally alone and he revealed his true identity…
He recognized me immediately and knelt in reverence before I even manifested my full divinity.
He could have at least pretended not to know. It would have been the prudent thing to do.
Tertius suppressed a scoff as he gazed down at Athanas, who knelt before him with perfect deference, head bowed in submission.
“You are Athanas?” Tertius’s voice resonated through the chamber.
“Yes, Sir Apostle.” The reply came without hesitation.
Truth.
“I have several questions for you.”
“I am at your disposal, Sir Apostle.”
“The reliquary in your possession—does it contain Fabio’s left eye?”
“Yes, it does.”
Truth.
Tertius let silence build between them, a tactical pause before his next strike. “Did you yourself remove that eye from him?”
“I did.”
Truth.
Tertius’s fingers found the ornate hilt of his sword, resting there with deliberate casualness.
“Were you aware that your lover experienced pain throughout this procedure?”
“I was.” Athanas’s voice remained steady.
“And you knew Valentine’s blessing requires you to ease your lover’s suffering?”
“I did.”
“You understand that sins committed with full knowledge carry greater weight.”
“…I am aware, Sir Apostle.”
“Then your transgression—”
“It was the best option available to me.”
Truth.
Tertius’s brows furrowed, the interruption fracturing his carefully constructed judgment.
“‘Best option’?” he repeated, leaning forward. “Explain yourself.”
“It was Fabio himself who requested it. He begged me to take his left eye.”
“What are you—”
Tertius faltered, doubting his own divine senses. How could such a statement register as truth? Fabio had asked for this mutilation? The same Fabio who trembled at the mere mention of healing blessings? Who cowered at the slightest hint of pain?
Was such a thing even possible?
“Show me the sacred relic,” Tertius commanded.
Athanas reached inside his breastplate without protest, offering up the reliquary with reverent movements despite the tension crackling between them. Tertius took it, noting its weight—heavier than its size suggested, as objects of power often were. With practiced hands, he unlatched the ornate container and tipped its contents onto his palm.
I can’t read anything from it.
This confirmed what he already suspected was inside. A part of Fabio that was deliberately shielded from divine insight, its blessings carefully masked to hide whatever secrets it contained.
Should I simply confiscate it?
Tertius considered it, then immediately dismissed the thought. If this eye truly bore Valentine’s blessing—and all evidence pointed that way—then taking it wasn’t an option. Sacred Valentine relics could never be forcibly claimed, even from the hands of sinners. The laws governing such matters were absolute.
It made no difference whether Fabio had given the body part willingly, or if the Valentine priest who granted the blessing had been coerced. Once Valentine acknowledged something as a “Sacred Relic of Love,” it remained inviolate as long as the love itself endured.
Of course, their Lord had created explicit exemptions that would override even this sacred law. Tertius recalled the exact wording:
[All matters involving existences from beyond the starry sky may be handled without prior permission or notice.]
But this exemption remained known only to an inner circle of the highest order. To confiscate a sacred relic based on a clause unknown to the faithful would trigger widespread outrage and potentially destabilize the entire faith.
Even Alexandra Teres—whose brutal torture of a Valentine priest to obtain a blessing was well-documented—had been permitted to keep her relic. The precedent stood unbroken.
Using Oblivion would change nothing. Valentine alone would perceive the exemption’s existence.
Tertius frowned. Valentine had always been the most troublesome deity in the pantheon. Their Lord had never explained why, yet every Apostle felt it instinctively when near Valentine’s priests—that unsettling unease that crept beneath the skin and lingered.
At the very least, I should consult with the Saint before taking further action.
He returned the reliquary to Athanas. Confiscation remained an option for later, if needed.
“Follow me,” he commanded, turning toward the training grounds with deliberate strides.
As they walked, Tertius silently relayed the conversation to Adna through their telepathic bond. Athanas followed several paces behind, his footsteps barely whispering against the stone floor. Then unexpectedly, he spoke.
“There is something I wish to ask you, Sir Apostle.”
Tertius didn’t slow his pace. “Did I grant you permission to question me?”
“You neither permitted nor forbade it,” Athanas replied evenly.
“Hah…” A short, humorless sound escaped Tertius’s lips. The man spoke exactly like Adna, which meant, in essence, he was pure irritation incarnate.
“Fine. Ask your question.”
“When I next profess my love to Fabio in your presence…” Athanas began.
Tertius waited, saying nothing.
“…Would the Apostle of Emotions consider verifying that my words are sincere?”
“Why should I perform such a service for you?” Tertius kept his tone deliberately cool.
“It might persuade him to believe, even slightly, that my feelings are genuine.”
Tertius stopped so abruptly that Athanas nearly walked into him. He turned, eyes narrowed.
“‘Believe’? What exactly does Fabio think of you, his supposed lover?”
Athanas met his gaze without flinching. “He believes I’m merely playing a role.”
“‘Playing a role’? Why in the world would he think that?”
“I’ve declared my true feelings countless times, only to face rejection at every turn. He acts as though loving him is somehow forbidden.” Athanas’s expression remained composed, but something raw flickered in his eyes. “Yet when I offered to pretend to be his lover, he readily agreed to the charade.”
Tertius’s frown deepened as his divine senses probed every word for deception.
All of this is the truth?
“Fabio does love me,” Athanas continued with quiet certainty. “He simply refuses to accept that what I feel is love. Whenever I confront him with this reality, he grows angry, and ultimately…” A shadow crossed his face. “He chooses to forget.”