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

#015Reader Mode

#015

Insects crawling beneath the skin. A priest holding a dark stone knife, slicing into human flesh and drenching them in his own blood.

Isn’t this the makings of a crazy cult no matter how you look at it?

Just a glance makes my skin crawl and fills me with disgust. It feels like my SAN value (mental strength) might plummet! ¹T/N: “SAN value (mental strength)” This is a reference to a game mechanic where a character’s mental strength or sanity can be quantified. Typically found in horror games, a character’s sanity or mental stability is tracked, and certain events or scary sights can decrease this value driving the character closer to insanity.

They use twisted logic to justify heinous acts, thinking they’re doing good deeds.

Who in their right mind wouldn’t be freaked out by this?

Even among the Apostles of Othergods, this guy takes the cake for being grotesque! How is this not considered heresy?!

Nasir, you bastard!! A proper warning would’ve been nice!!

This is straight out of a nightmare. I could’ve passed out from sheer horror!

And it’s not even a life-threatening disease to begin with. Why would you recommend such a brutal treatment for just muscle pain?!

“You’re looking quite pale… Perhaps you’re anemic,” Agnes said, his gentle voice sending a shiver down my spine despite his words. “I’ll provide you with a double portion of the sacrament.”

I took a hesitant step back, my mind racing with ways to get out of this situation without causing a scene. Where was Nasir, anyway? He’d told me to let him know if I felt uncomfortable, but he was nowhere to be found…

Suddenly, as if summoned by my thoughts, Nasir appeared, his supply bag blocking my view.

“Father Agnes.”

“Yes, how can I assist you?”

“Thank you for granting the healing blessing at this early hour. Thanks to you, we can set out without further delay.”

Agnes blinked unnaturally, then smiled gently. “There is no unsuitable time for blessings. It is my duty as a servant of Ledeia.”

“We’re grateful for Lady Ledeia’s mercy,” Nasir replied. “May all that’s rejuvenated flourish under Order.”

“May the hand of correction guide where Order governs,” Agnes said, crossing himself and packing up his tools as if the treatment was over.

He hypnotized him!

Nasir!! My trust in you wasn’t in vain!!

You came to my rescue!!

Of course, you’re also the one who got me into this mess in the first place!

Nasir glanced at me. “Fabio, the days are getting shorter, so we need to hurry.” Our original plan of a leisurely lunch before leaving had apparently been scrapped.
That’s probably for the best, anyway. If we stayed too long, I might end up being rude.

If Father Agnes suddenly spoke up behind me, I’d probably jump out of my skin and blurt out a string of curses. It was that creepy and disgusting, and just thinking about it made my skin crawl.

How can everyone here be so nonchalant about that healing priest? Don’t they feel anything?

Lost in thought, I absentmindedly rubbed the goosebumps on my arm. Were they desensitized to it because they’d seen healing priests so often? Impossible. No matter how many times you saw it, it was still unsettling. Even if some internet troll spam-posted GIFs of that creepy worm priest on a forum every day, it would still cause swear words to fly freely. The shock factor never wears off.

Besides, encounters with healing priests are rare for people here.

In fact, searching through Fabio’s memories, I found only two instances of him encountering them in his life. Yet, there was no mention in the narration of him being so horrified by the sight of one that he felt sick to his stomach.

…Could it be that healing priests emit some kind of mental influence that makes them seem less repulsive?

And perhaps, thanks to [The Whole World Is Beneath One’s Self], I’m immune to this effect?

Without a system notification, I can’t be certain. But it’s a plausible theory.

Nasir had warned me. Maybe he knew I possessed a blessing that negated ‘hypnosis’.

As these thoughts swirled in my mind, it was time to leave.

Which meant, once again, I had to mount that horse.

Damn, my muscles are still aching.

But remembering that healing blessing, I felt a surge of determination to push through the discomfort.

I made a deliberate effort not to look at Father Agnes, who had come to see us off, and climbed onto the horse as if everything was fine.

Nasir glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, and then, without a word, we departed.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

“Fabio.”

After about two hours of riding, when the chimes from the village bell tower had faded into the distance, Nasir broke the silence.

Lost in a bizarre thought – wondering whether priests of Ledeia, whose symbol is a maggot, would consider it sacrilegious to eat maggot-infested rotten fruit or to throw it away – I was a bit slow to respond.

“Yes?”

“Did seeing the healing priest particularly shock you?”

…It was more than just shock.

“How did it make you feel?”

As I struggled to find the right words to express my horror without sounding too blunt, Nasir spoke again before I could reply.

“Did you feel nauseated, disgusted, and so horrified that you could faint?”

It felt like death would be preferable to undergoing such treatment.

Did he just read my mind?

Can inquisitors detect blasphemous thoughts instantly with some special ability?

Caught off guard, I tried to defend myself, stumbling over my words. “Well, it wasn’t quite that intense…”

Nasir interrupted, sharing a piece of his past. “I lived in the desert until I was thirteen. I grew up as a pagan and didn’t get baptized until I was fifteen.”

So, he clearly remembers his life before the baptism. Those baptized at birth wouldn’t understand how differently the world looks after the ceremony.

Is he about to launch into a whole monologue?

“…The reactions I just described were my own before I was baptized,” Nasir continued.

Oh thank god. For a second there, I thought he was going to accuse me of having blasphemous thoughts and execute me in some dark alley.

“Back then, I badly injured my right arm, so badly that the bone was exposed. They said I’d never wield a sword again without treatment. But I stubbornly refused. I said that if my right arm was useless, I’d just use my left. I even cried, saying I’d rather die than go through such a disgusting treatment.”

Nasir’s voice grew softer as he went on. “At that point, I had already converted, so my refusal wasn’t because I thought the treatment would defile me or that it was against religious teachings. I just found it unbearably repulsive.”

I had always thought that the Empire’s citizens, who had no problem with such practices, were out of their minds. I nodded in agreement with Nasir’s words.

Yes, that’s right! The people here are all crazy!

“Yes, I certainly thought so. But after my baptism, I had a realization,” Nasir said, turning to look at me. “Fabio, have you heard the saying ‘Everything is beautiful under Order’?”

It was impossible not to know it. That line is constantly repeated in the Order’s prayers and hymns.

“What do you think that phrase means?” Nasir asked.

“…Doesn’t it mean that everything in order is beautiful? I thought it meant that wherever Roklem looks, disorder and chaos disappear, creating order and making everything harmonious and beautiful.”

Nasir chuckled at my answer. “You’re reading too much into it. That phrase isn’t a metaphor.”

“Not a metaphor…?”

“Everything is beautiful under Order. This phrase is a truth, a law,” Nasir added. “A law proclaimed by Roklem himself.”

“After baptism, gods and their priests under Order appear beautiful to the baptized. After I was baptized, my past refusal of treatment seemed strange. I remember being incredibly disgusted, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t feel that way again. It was like a distant memory, like being afraid that touching cold water would melt my skin.”

What?

“…To say everything is beautiful under Order also means that those outside of Order are excluded from this law.”

Damn, so my revulsion basically confirms my heretic status?

Nasir’s words sent a chill down my spine, and I could feel the cold sweat forming on my back.

I mean, seriously? Isn’t this heresy test too extreme?

What, I’m supposed to keep a straight face while bugs are crawling under someone’s skin? And not even flinch when maggots are squirming into my flesh?

Is that even humanly possible?

I couldn’t help but feel wronged.

It’s not like I’m a real heretic or anything.

I don’t wield the powers of an Othergod, and I sure as hell can’t use them.

All I’ve got are a few inherent traits.

With great power comes great responsibility, right?

Well, I’ve got the responsibility part down pat, but where’s my damn power?!

As I was having my little internal meltdown, Nasir spoke up again.

“…Actually, when you looked into my eyes without any reaction earlier, I had my suspicions.”

“Eyes?”

“Golden eyes are one of Nephiton’s sacred symbols.”

Nephiton? Who the hell is that?

I quickly racked my brain, but came up empty.

Probably just another lesser god that Roklem killed.

“…Nephiton is the guardian god of the dead desert.”

Yep, definitely a lesser god.

“Therefore, people under Order instinctively feel uneasy about golden eyes.”

Apparently, some get used to it, while others train their minds to control their instinctual reactions…

Nasir flashed me a cryptic smile.

“After seeing your reaction today, I realized your indifference was truly genuine.”

…What does he mean?

I tilted my head, trying to make sense of it all.

So, after failing two heresy tests in a row, am I basically branded as a heretic now? Am I destined for heretic prison?

“How does it feel to look into my eyes as someone outside of the Order?”

…Seriously? My life’s on the line, and you’re worried about your eye color?

It’s like being on death row, not knowing when your execution will be, trying to choke down your last meal, and the guard asks, “Hey, how’s my tie look today? Does it complement my complexion?”

I wanted to scream, ‘Are you f*cking kidding me?!’ but…

I’m the weaker one here, so I just have to suck it up and endure!

If you think becoming a death row inmate makes you numb to everything and toughens you up, think again.

Especially in medieval times.

You know why medieval executioners were paid so well?

Inmates and their families would bribe them generously, terrified of a painful death.

If I’m doomed as a heretic anyway, I might as well stay on the executioner’s good side.

“I had no idea that I hadn’t received the Blessing of Order until Sir Nasir brought it to my attention.”

“Hmm?”

“You see, I believe in Roklem, the God that Mr. Antonio serves. I wanted to learn more, tried to educate myself, and even studied with enthusiasm. But then I realized… Roklem, the God who watches over everyone, doesn’t watch over me. It felt like my world came crashing down.”

Nasir looked a bit puzzled, probably wondering why I was suddenly sharing this, but he let me keep going.

“And after this realization, understanding that I was an outsider to the Order, I fell into a deep depression…”

I paused for effect, taking in Nasir’s slightly confused expression.

“But then I realized there’s one good thing to come from this.”

“…Oh?” Nasir asked, intrigued. “And what might that be?”

I cracked a small, somewhat nostalgic smile.

“I can look into your eyes, Sir Nasir, and truly admire how stunningly beautiful that golden color is.”

Take this Nasir! Get lost in the 21st-century nonsense!

“I imagine it must be easy for you, an Inquisitor, to spot people like me who are outside of the Order. All you need to do is look for those who can’t stop staring at your captivating eye color.”

“……”

“I don’t know much about Nephiton, but perhaps he was some kind of god of beauty? It would certainly explain why such a breathtaking color is his symbol.”

“……”

“The golden sands of the desert… When I heard that, it struck me how magnificent it sounded. But it also made me wonder. Maybe we should start describing gold as the eye color of the desert?”

Nasir seemed momentarily dumbstruck, like he was having a culture shock from a civilization centuries ahead of his time.

“Sir Nasir?”

“…Are they truly that beautiful? My eyes, I mean?”

What the hell is this scruffy-bearded old dude saying so bashfully? It’s kind of gross.

But if we’re just talking about the color of his irises, there’s no denying it. They’re stunning.

Imagine someone drop-dead gorgeous with those eyes. They’d be too dazzling for a billboard. Drivers might get so lost in them that they’d cause pile-ups on the highway.

“Absolutely. Even pure gold pales in comparison to the luster of your eyes, Sir Nasir.”

“…Where did you learn to speak in such a manner?”

“Pardon? Are there tutors in the city who teach others how to speak?”

Would it make a difference if I had formal training?

When I asked that, Nasir suddenly looked away.

Oh, his ears are turning red.

I was just trying to butter him up, but it still felt a bit awkward when he actually seemed flattered.

This whole situation feels like that cliché where a true humble beauty realizes the protagonist doesn’t mind or even likes her unique features, and she falls for him.

Of course, with him being an Inquisitor and me being a suspected heretic serf, we’re light-years away from that particular cliché.

“…No one has ever said that to me before.”

“Wait, what?”

“You’re the first person to ever tell me that my golden eyes are beautiful.”

Why does he keep saying stuff that sounds like it’s ripped straight from a cheesy romance novel?

Plus, he looked like he was about to start bawling, which just made the whole thing even more awkward.

“Not even before you turned thirteen?”

“…Everyone in our tribe had golden eyes, so it never seemed special. Back then, I just assumed everyone had eyes this color.”

Makes sense…

“After coming to the Empire, all I ever heard were comments about how unpleasant my eye color was…”

Ah, good old medieval racism rearing its ugly head again.

It’s scary to think that these medieval jerks might not just stop at words, but might actually act on their prejudices.

“If I had truly believed in the Lord, I would have gouged my eyes out since they symbolize heresy. There was even a bishop who said I should blind myself before getting baptized.”

So, this is his way of telling me they’re not going to accept me.

These damn hypocrites.

And they claim to serve a just God?

I hope they all reincarnate outside of the Empire in their next life and get smacked upside the head with a sacred hammer.

This kind of baseless mockery is really…

“…So, Commander Casimir actually did gouge her eyes out, and received baptism while blood was dripping from her eye sockets.”

…Wait, what?!

“And with Ledeia’s blessing, when she regained her sight, she chose gray eyes.”

Commander Casimir?

…Mr. Antonio, who the hell did you adopt as your stepdaughter?

“However, I was too much of a coward to gouge my own eyes out.”

No, from any angle, the person who actually did that seems way more out there.

“To the people with the same eye color as me, I was a traitor… To the people with different eye colors, I was an outsider, and when I looked in the mirror, I saw a pathetic coward.”

A tear rolled down Nasir’s cheek.

“But…”

[SYSTEM: ‘Inquisitor Nasir’ has been deeply moved by your words!]

What’s going on all of a sudden?

“These eyes… someone actually thought their color was beautiful.”

[SYSTEM: A new chapter has been added to the achievement of ‘Miracle of the Silver Tongue’]

[SYSTEM: Your rank has increased ever so slightly.]

…I think I might have stumbled onto something here.

I didn’t think I said anything all that profound, but seeing him get so emotional about it felt a bit strange. But hey, if it helped him feel a little better, I figured it was a good thing.