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

#185Reader Mode

T/N: Thanks for the coffee Simi! I’m back to uploading Othergod regularly! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

#185

To think my missing arm turned into a key scenario item… it’s actually unbelievable.

The thought was so ridiculous, I almost laughed.

Is that why the Saint kept staring at me earlier? Was he sizing me up? Trying to decide if the rest of me was worth harvesting too? He probably needs the other arm if he’s planning to send a second Apostle down here.

Light doesn’t reach this deep. Neither do prayers. Which means Order still has no idea what the Saint found in the basement.

But what if the Saint reaches the same conclusion that Records did?

Wouldn’t that drive Order mad?

You have to remember, Records didn’t betray Order out of hatred. It was love. They stayed down here, enduring the contamination of their own divinity, just to keep Order untouched by the truth.

So Records turned traitor to protect Roklem.

And if the Saint decides to do the same…

“Do you know which basement level the Saint is on?”

[…I don’t know. This is all dying Records managed to send up.]

I thumbed through Codex. It was useless. Just page after page of… thirst. The Saint’s radiant eyes, his luminous skin, his voice ringing like morning bells. It was an endless stream of borderline perverted poetry about his beauty. Nothing practical.

Wait.

I flipped back to the beginning. First page. Second. Third.

Where was the warning? Where was the part that clearly told us to stay away?

I frowned. Sure, maybe some of the information got lost on the way up, but specific warnings don’t usually vanish while all the poetic rambling stays perfectly intact.

Did Records really warn me not to come down here… just based on a hunch?

I skimmed past the melodramatic laments—“the tragedy, the unbearable tragedy, that this record of the Saint’s beauty shall never be read”—until I found something more useful: a revision note.

Records was backtracking. Regretting an earlier entry. Apparently, describing the Saint as “resembling Order” was, in their own words, a failure of craft.

‘A failure. What does “resembled Order” mean to someone who has never seen Order? Nothing. It means nothing. I have painted with invisible colors. I have described light to the blind.’

They’d realized the metaphor didn’t land. That for anyone who hadn’t witnessed Order firsthand, the comparison was meaningless. It conveyed nothing.

Ashamed of their own poor phrasing, Records came to a frantic, final conclusion:

‘It is better if no one reads this!
No one should come down here.
They must not come down!’

Even so, Records did note that some had made it that far down. People with potential.

‘A bug gnawing on books.
A thing that doesn’t even know its own name.
Especially the one calling himself ‘Fabio.’ A truly annoying, irritating piece of work.’

Excuse me?

‘A scoundrel who scribbles on sacred texts!
Even though I never invited him, ‘Fabio’ barges into my sanctuary and pesters ‘Alkaten’ whenever he damn well pleases….’

“When the hell did I ever do that?”

Fuck you! You were the one desperate to get my attention! You literally threatened me until I came down to the basement! And now you’re acting like I’m some kind of obsessive stalker?

[…Fabio. Just because Records wrote it doesn’t mean it’s true.]

“There’s a difference between lying and outright slander!”

Wait.

Hold on a second.

The anger drained out of me, replaced by something colder.

What if… everything written in here is just a story? Fiction?

It could be exactly like the message sent up from the 24th level.

What if Records wrote absolute nonsense from the start, deliberately playing around the censorship to mislead the System?

The thought spiraled outward, branching, connecting. I could almost see it—the shape of the truth hovering just out of reach—

“Hyung!”

Codex ripped free from my hands. I grabbed at empty air as it shot upward, pages flapping like panicked wings.

[What the—mph!]

The bookmark thrashed wildly, but the voice cut out the instant the book slammed shut. The Saint’s holy relic wrapped around the book like a chain, sealing it tight.

“…Pandomonium?”

“Holy shit, Hyung! Have you completely lost it?”

I opened my mouth to tell him he was the absolute last person in existence qualified to ask that question, but before I could get a word out, Pandomonium tackled me into a bear hug.

Suddenly, my feet left the ground.

What—

We were shooting backward, flying up the stairs with Pandomonium holding on to me tightly. It felt like someone had hooked a telekinetic winch to the ceiling and just hit ‘retract.’

…Actually, it felt a lot like riding a reverse zipline.

“I’ve been screaming your name! You wouldn’t even look back!”

“You were calling me?”

“You seriously didn’t hear me? Hyung, you looked completely out of it. Like you were possessed or something.”

Ah. That made sense. Prayers don’t reach this deep. We’d crossed into someone else’s domain now.

“Why did you follow me?”

“What? What do you mean, why? I mean… I just…”

I frowned.

It’s fine that he followed me down.

But why were we going back up?

We need to go down.

I have to get my arm back from the Saint.

The truth was painfully clear now. Order didn’t give a damn about fixing the contamination. He just wanted to exploit the chaos to recover the lost memories.

And the System would do whatever it took to stop that. No matter the cost.

The higher we go, the thicker the bugs get. It’s suffocating up there. Without my arm, they’ll devour every last scrap of ink.

And then—Order will be restored.

Because Order must remain.

For the game to continue.

“Put me down. I’m not finished. I still have work to do.”

“Hyung, listen to yourself! Do you have any idea how crazy you sound right now?!”

Pandomonium’s voice cracked, tight with panic.

“I’m not letting you go until you snap out of it. Not until you’re back to normal.”

“…Normal?”

I’m the one who’s abnormal?

Says the guy whose Trait basically lets him walk around with his eyes shut and fingers in his ears, humming loud enough to drown out any truth that might sneak in? Who are you to judge me?

Snap.

The telekinetic tether snapped without warning.

“Whoa—shit!”

Gravity kicked in. We dropped like stones. But just before we crashed, he caught us with a new strand, yanking us to a jarring halt mid-air. Pandomonium stared at me, pale and sweating, breath ragged.

“Hyung… did you just cut that?”

I kept my gaze on the dark below.

“You know I don’t have the power to do that.”

I looked back at him.

“But maybe take the hint. We’re not supposed to go any higher.”

“Says who? Who’s warning us?”

“The System.”

Pandomonium shot me a long, wary look, but eventually—grudgingly—he killed the lift. We dropped onto the stairs, halting our ascent. He still wouldn’t let go of me, though.

I glanced back up toward the surface. Somehow, I knew I wouldn’t be allowed to return until this entire mess was over.

It felt exactly like being trapped in one of those old-school point-and-click adventure games.

You know the kind. Walking into the room is easy. But try to leave without the key item, and suddenly you’re locked in. The basement door wasn’t actually physically blocked. I literally opened it not too long ago.

But if you try to click the exit icon, your character just stands there like an idiot and rattles off one of those canned lines:

‘I feel like I missed something in this room.’

‘Better take another look around.’

‘I’m not ready to leave just yet.’

It’s the game devs’ way of giving you a not-so-subtle hint: Don’t go anywhere. The plot is happening right here.

“What are you mumbling about?”

“I’m just saying, it’d be best if we didn’t go back up.” I said flatly.

“…Hyung, seriously—are you possessed? Is it the System? Is it controlling you right now?”

Pandomonium hauled me up with one arm and grabbed my face with the other, desperately trying to lift my eyepatch.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! What do you think you’re gonna find under there? Let go, you psycho!”

“Hyung, I’m serious. I’m actually scared. It is you, right? You haven’t been swapped out for some NPC?”

“And if I had? Would you even know the difference?”

Honestly, the irony stung. A fake pretending to be ‘me’ would probably pull it off better than I can right now.

People change. They have to. It’s how we survive.

If your entire world flips upside down and you don’t change with it? That’s not staying true to yourself. That’s called losing your mind. Insanity.

I should know. The moment I possessed a serf, my standards for ‘good food’ went straight out the window.

To this day, I get weirdly emotional eating bread that’s actually white on the inside. Being able to stuff myself with that soft, refined fluff until I’m full… it really drives home just how obscenely rich the Church of Order actually is.

It’s kind of hilarious. Back on Earth, even the cheapest bargain-bin loaf was made with snow-white refined flour. You had to pay extra for the rough, brown whole-wheat stuff. Here? Total opposite.

“…Please stop talking like that. I think I’m actually gonna cry.”

I let out a long sigh.

“Put me down, loser.”

“No.”

Pandomonium was being unbelievably stubborn. And, of course, fucking disobedient.

Was he seriously still trying to head back up? After I explicitly told him it was a terrible idea?

“Hey. Listen. My arm is down there, okay? I need to get it back. We can’t just leave it.”

“…Then I’ll go. You stay up top, Hyung.”

“For fuck’s sake! What is wrong with you?”

Pandomonium looked like he was on the verge of snapping.

“It’s just… the deeper you went, the more it felt like you were slipping away. Like if I let you go any further, you weren’t coming back.”

“Then come with me, you idiot.”

“Are you nuts? You’ve got 25 Durability.”

Pandomonium held me tighter, pulling me in like he could physically keep me from disappearing.

“A stray pebble could kill you in a fight. Just stay somewhere safe. Please.”

…Okay, fair. Escort missions are already a pain. Escorting a unit made of wet tissue paper? That’s actual hell.

But there was one obvious flaw in his logic.

“…What makes you think it’s safe up there?”

The Starlight is swarming everything above us.

Did seeing Roklem frozen solid by that light not set off any alarm bells?

Seriously?

“Fuck, Hyung! Can you stop talking like an NPC in a horror game? I’m this close to pissing myself.”

“What? What did I even say?”

“You keep dropping these creepy, cryptic death flags!”

Bastard complains about everything.

“Anyway, if we go up now, you’re going to regret it.”

“…Regret it how?”

“Huh?”

“Give me a reason. What exactly is going to happen? Why would I regret it? Spell it out.”

“That’s…”

Yeah.

How do I explain it?

I paused.

Because the truth was—I couldn’t.

There was no logic, no evidence. Just a bone-deep certainty I couldn’t shake. No words to back it up. Just… dread.

“I don’t know.”

That was the only honest answer I had.

“…Hyung.”

“What?”

“You are seriously freaking me out right now. Like, if I took off that eyepatch, I half expect to find black sludge pouring out of your socket while you whisper, ‘Do I still look like Hyung to you?’ Can you please—please—just talk like a normal person?”

“…Well, if I do end up like that, it’s entirely your fault, isn’t it?”

Pandomonium froze. The blood drained from his face.

“Mister Fabio… I’m sorry. I was wrong. Please don’t say things like that. I’m begging you. Just—just give Hyung back…”

No, you damn moron!

The reason it’s empty under this eyepatch is because you gouged it out. Yourself. Why is he acting like this is some supernatural horror twist? It’s not a mystery. It’s basic cause and effect.

I reached out and gave him a light slap across the cheek. Not hard. Just sharp enough to reboot the part of his brain that had gone offline.

“Pull it together, you bastard. I’m not trying to be cryptic. Think back to what Bishop Andrea told us: a god’s form—its essence—can warp based on the beliefs of its followers. My form won’t change because of my Mental Defense trait, but your perception of me? That’s totally malleable. ‘Give who back?’ Seriously? Just open your damn eyes and look at who’s standing in front of you.”

“Hyung…”

I rolled my eye.

“Ever heard of Capgras syndrome? It’s what happens when your brain can recognize someone’s face, but the emotional link—what makes them feel familiar—breaks. A patient looks at their loved ones and becomes convinced they’ve been replaced by perfect imposters. Same face. Same voice. Same memories. But something’s missing. That sense of warmth, of connection, is gone. So they assume the person must’ve changed, when the real issue is in their own brain.”

Pandomonium sniffled.

“…You lecturing me about brain disorders? Yeah, that actually sounds like the old Hyung.”

I sighed. “What kind of person do you think I am?”

Pandomonium rubbed at his eyes. “Anyway, can we just go? Please?”

I opened my mouth, ready to argue, but stopped myself. What was the point? I was too tired. And honestly, too irritated to bother.

We’d just end up back down here anyway.

If the System wants something, it happens.

And suddenly, the War God’s Helper’s words clicked into place. ‘The System never makes mistakes.’

But that can’t be right. True infallibility doesn’t exist. Nothing is perfect.

So what does that really mean?

If the System never makes mistakes, that implies….

[SYSTEM: …Conflict detected in operational state. Resolution required.]

[SYSTEM: Continuing current action may result in critical failure.]

[SYSTEM: Do you wish to proceed?]

“Fuck.”

“Hyung?”

“Stop. Just stop—right now!”

[SYSTEM: Trait ‘Heaven Above, Earth Below, I Alone Reign Supreme’ is in direct conflict with the ‘Cleaning Process’.]

[SYSTEM: Terminating trait: ‘Heaven Above, Earth Below, I Alone Reign Supreme’.]

But Pandomonium didn’t stop. He just kept walking, kept dragging me upward.

And that’s when it hit me.

This wasn’t some glitch.

The System chose this.

Pandomonium… me…

[SYSTEM: ERROR. Resetting priority hierarchy.]

[SYSTEM: Initiating subject isolation.]

Click.

The world vanished.

No fade to black. No slow unraveling. Just gone like someone yanked the plug on reality.

I didn’t faint. I wasn’t blind.

It was more absolute than that. Every single sense had been cut off. Sight, sound, touch—everything.

And suddenly, I got it. I understood why the contaminated never responded. They weren’t being cold or ignoring us. They’d been isolated—quarantined inside their own minds so they couldn’t spread the “truth” like some kind of contagion.

For someone without divinity, even thought itself might freeze. They’d lose all awareness. They wouldn’t even know time was passing.

And here I was, losing my physical body a lot sooner than I’d expected.

It was a strange feeling.

How do you describe the absence of everything?

It wasn’t painful. It wasn’t frightening.

It was just… quiet.

Peaceful, even.

I suppose that makes sense. No physical body means no amygdala flooding me with panic—no adrenaline, no norepinephrine. No fight-or-flight chemical cocktail. Still, even that has its limits. If this goes on too long, my consciousness is going to burn out, like a fire starved of oxygen.

The more I think about it… the more cheated I feel.

Truth be told, I still don’t even know what the big ‘truth’ actually is. But clearly, the System must have analyzed the situation and realized I was at a tipping point. That if it gave me even one more second alone with my thoughts, I’d figure it out.

“That is correct.”

A voice cut through the silence.

“…House Lizard?”

“Hello, Fabio. You’ve finally reached the place where perception is no longer censored.”