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

#089Reader Mode

#089

Fabio’s labored breathing filled the room, each ragged gasp ripping through the silence like a jagged knife. The scent of blood hung thick in the air, its coppery tang assaulting Athanas’ senses and causing his stomach to churn. Bishop Andrea loomed behind Fabio, his sword a cold, merciless edge against Fabio’s exposed throat. The slightest movement from Athanas, and Andrea’s blade would paint the floor crimson.

Every fiber of his being screamed at him to use ‘Retrograde’, but Athanas knew he had to gather information first if he wanted to save Fabio. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to remain still, and suppressed the urge to turn back time right then and there.

“What do you want?” Athanas choked out, his voice strained with desperation. “I’ll do anything, just… please, let him go.”

Andrea scoffed. “…Are you pretending to have a human heart? How absurd.” His sneer deepened as he applied more pressure with his sword, drawing a thin line of blood from Fabio’s skin. “If you truly wish to prove your sincerity, discard your weapons. Every single one. That would be a suitable demonstration of your commitment.”

Athanas didn’t hesitate. His sword clattered to the ground, skidding away with a kick. Dagger, canteen, anything his hands could reach—all discarded without a second thought. His eyes never left Fabio, scanning for injuries, for any clue that might help with this situation when he finally turned back time to save him.

“Satisfied?” Athanas asked, his voice tight.

Andrea’s eyebrows shot up, disbelief etched into every line of his face. “The Butcher, disarmed and obedient? I never thought I’d see the day. Are you truly him?” Despite his skepticism, he slowly withdrew his sword from Fabio’s throat, his grip loosening, though his guard never faltered.

Fabio slumped in the chair, his body lifeless, like a puppet with its strings cut. His unfocused eyes met Athanas’, a storm of murky emotions swirling within them—resentment, or perhaps something else entirely, something Athanas couldn’t quite decipher…

“Well, a promise is a promise,” Andrea said. “I suppose I should release him.” His blood-stained fingers traced a cruel path along Fabio’s cheek, a whisper slithering from his lips like a venomous secret. The ropes binding Fabio came alive, writhing black snakes that coiled and hissed. As they retreated, Fabio fell forward, his body crumpling like a ragdoll.

Athanas lunged, his arms outstretched, catching Fabio before he could hit the ground. Blood, hot and slick, coated his hands, his clothes, the very air he breathed. It pooled beneath them, a crimson lake that seemed to grow with every passing second. Somehow, miraculously, Fabio’s eyes flickered open.

What should he do? Find the source, Athanas’ mind screamed, his hands already searching, probing, desperate to stop the bleeding. He cradled Fabio’s face, pale as a ghost, willing life into those fading eyes.

“Fabio, stay with me. It’s okay, I’m here now. I’m going to save you. Fabio…” The words spilled from Athanas’ lips, a mantra of hope in the face of despair.

But the cold, calculating part of his mind, the part that had seen death’s handiwork far too often, whispered the truth he couldn’t bear to face. Too much blood. Too little time. A line crossed, a threshold breached. Despite this, Athanas refused to give up, his hands working desperately to stem the flow.

“Forgive me,” Athanas choked out, his voice cracking under the weight of his failure. “I should have been faster, I…”

The whole situation felt like a horrific nightmare. That calculating part of his brain, always seeking the best solution, was urging him to get up, assess, and fight…But Athanas remained frozen, cradling Fabio’s bleeding body in his arms. He knew that holding Fabio wouldn’t save him, but he couldn’t bring himself to lay him down, even as his breath grew shallow and erratic. He couldn’t bear to leave him, not like this, not surrounded by the crimson pool that threatened to engulf them both.

Athanas knew that if he used Retrograde, this moment could be undone—a chance to erase this nightmare, which only he would remember. But even the thought of leaving Fabio lying in a pool of his own blood, even for a second, even in a reality that would be erased, sent ice through his veins.

“…I’ll fix this, Fabio. I swear it. You can trust me, Fabio. I have a secret, a trump card I never told you about. Do you want to know what it is?”

Athanas wanted to offer reassurance and apologize before it all became nothing.

“Fabio, don’t be startled. I…’’

Fabio’s hand, slick with blood, trembled as it rose, his fingers brushing over Athanas’ lips. Shh. The touch lingered for a heartbeat before falling away, lifeless.

Squelch.

That sound—nauseating and wet—slithered into Athanas’s consciousness, causing goosebumps to erupt across his skin. And only then did he remember Andrea’s presence. It was strange. How could he have forgotten, even for an instant?

A terrible servant of an evil god, capable of manipulating cognition and concealing his presence…

Athanas tensed, steeling himself for what might come next.

Andrea loomed in the shadows, an embodiment of malicious intent. A snake, black as the depths of sin, slithered from beneath his robes and coiled on the ground, its dull thud sending shivers down one’s spine.

“A butcher capable of human emotions? Impossible. Not after the cruelty you showed Alicia. No…” Andrea’s voice was a dark, menacing murmur.

“So this… this is all an act, isn’t it?”

Athanas clutched Fabio closer, his heart hammering wildly against his rib cage. Alarm bells rang loudly in his mind.

“To make you stop pretending…” Andrea’s eyes glittered, cold and calculating. “I must eliminate the reason for your deception.”

Hot blood suddenly splattered across Athanas’ face. An irresistible force drew his gaze down to his pinky finger…the searing agony that overwhelmed his senses was gone.

Retrograde. This time, he couldn’t fight the urge to turn back time.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The cold morning air burned in Athanas’ lungs as he gulped it down, each breath a desperate gasp. His fingers, moments ago burning with pain, were fine now.

Fabio’s location indicator placed him in the office.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Athanas ran with all his might, uncaring if he was seen or heard.

“Fabio!”

The cry ripped from his throat as he threw open the door, the hinges creaking in protest. And there, Fabio sat, his head jerking up at the abrupt intrusion, eyes wide with surprise. It was the face of a vibrant, living person, flushed with health, his heart pumping strong and steady.

The quill slipped from Fabio’s fingers, clattering against the desk as he rose to his feet, his lips forming a question Athanas couldn’t quite hear over the pounding of his own heart.

He’s alive.

Athanas wanted to overwrite the previous sensation with something else. He ached to close the distance between them, to gather Fabio in his arms, to feel the solid, living warmth of him, to reassure himself that this was real and to thoroughly check that Fabio was whole and unharmed. He wanted to release the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, to let go of the fear, dread, and sorrow with a deep, shaking exhale.

But before that…

Athanas drew his sword.

Attacking someone off guard is simple.

In a surprise attack, the realization comes a beat too late for the victim. In his reckless youth, Athanas had shown off such tricks in every match, enjoying the power it gave him. He would bring his sword to a stop just before their throat, watching their eyes widen in fear, and then timing how long it took for them to surrender. He saw it as a measure of strength—the slower they were to yield, the weaker they were. A nasty habit, he’d been told, one he’d long since abandoned.

Now, however, there was no need for restraint, no reason to stay his hand.

Andrea’s choked gasp, wet and gurgling, punctuated the air as the sword found its mark. A simple thing, really.

As Athanas wrenched the blade free, hot blood spurted out, splattering him and parts of the room in shades of red. His mind wandered, detached, clinical. It was his first time killing a servant of an Othergod. Would it differ from killing a human? Did he need to take… precautions? Sever the head completely? Reduce the body to ash? Douse the remains in holy water? He turned to Fabio, seeking guidance.

But Fabio…had gone deathly pale, the color draining from his face. It reminded Athanas of his earlier nightmare, and his heart sank. He needed to reassure him, to promise that the nightmare he witnessed would never come to pass…

“What have you done?”

Those few words cut deeper than any sharp blade could have. Terror radiated from Fabio in waves, but it wasn’t directed at the man cooling at their feet. No, those wide, terrified eyes were fixed on Athanas, and Athanas alone.

It was like being doused in ice water, the chill seeping into his bones.

“…Fabio, I can explain.”

Athanas would explain everything calmly.

This time, he knew he couldn’t rely on using Retrograde again. Even if it scared him, it couldn’t be helped. Hiding his ability to turn back time would only make things more complicated and dangerous. That much was clear to him now. If he was open and honest about his ability, everything could be explained and, hopefully, understood. Even if Fabio felt afraid or betrayed initially, he had to take that risk. Even if Fabio refused to understand, it didn’t matter. Being alive and afraid of him was better than losing his life because of unspoken secrets.

“Don’t come any closer!” Fabio shouted suddenly.

Athanas stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening at the sharpness in Fabio’s tone.

“Are you crazy?! You can’t just go around killing people…”

“…This man is a servant of an Othergod.”

“But he hasn’t done anything wrong yet!” Fabio protested, his voice shaking.

Hasn’t done anything wrong yet….

The words stung Athanas, and he felt a surge of frustration and anger.

“To punish someone for a sin they haven’t committed goes against everything in the doctrine—”

“I saw it,” Athanas interrupted.

“What?”

“I said I saw what this man did. He committed a sin so terrible that a painless death like this is too good for him.”

“What are you talking about? What sin? When and where did this happen?”

For a moment, Athanas paused, studying Fabio’s rapid breathing and trembling form.

“…Your breathing is too fast,” he said, his voice gentle. “Slow, deep breaths. There is no need to be afraid.” Athanas lowered his sword, watching as Fabio’s wild gaze softened, his fear seemingly abating.

“You said… you could explain?”

Despite shaking like a leaf, Fabio didn’t run away. Instead, he took a step towards him. Athanas felt a strange sense of satisfaction in that action. Perhaps, everything would be alright after all.

“Yes. Listen, and you’ll understand everything.”

“Eek…”

But it seems smiling wasn’t a good idea.

…At least he’s not calling for the Saint.

Fabio clutched the Saint’s relic tightly, his body trembling. Athanas slowly knelt down, careful not to startle him further.

“Bishop Andrea killed someone,” Athanas said, his voice calm and steady. “He tortured someone to death, deliberately and horrifically.”

“Do you know who the victim was? Was it a child…?”

“Fabio.”

“…Yes?”

“The one who died was you.”

“What?” Fabio’s reaction was one of confusion, as if he didn’t understand what Athanas was saying.

Athanas paused, taking a moment to gather himself before explaining what had happened, including his use of Retrograde to return. He fully expected Fabio to be shocked and terrified by the mention of Retrograde.

But Fabio’s response was different this time.

“…Athanas. Let me ask you something. Do you naturally have a high resistance to mental interference? Or do you carry a talisman or amulet that grants you such protection?”

Athanas answered that he didn’t.

Fabio gazed at the ceiling for a moment, then took a deep breath.

“Athanas, what you experienced was a hallucination, an illusion crafted by the Distorted One. It wasn’t real. Do you understand?”

Fabio eagerly explained.

“You must have felt something was strange. You may have done things you wouldn’t normally do. ‘Distortion’ can amplify or diminish feelings, clouding your judgment and making you act out of character. Didn’t you sense that? No, I can tell already. The way you described it suggests you were influenced. Who, in their right mind, would ignore an enemy’s presence and tend to the wounded? That’s not how you handle such a situation. Of course, you deal with the threat first, then you help the injured. So, your actions show that your emotions were already being manipulated by the distortion…”

In summary, Athanas had fallen into a trap, his experience was a false one, and his current state of mind was impulsive and irrational.

“…Are you even listening to me?”

He was listening. He didn’t miss how Fabio’s face flushed a little when he spoke passionately.

“Then you didn’t suffer. That’s good.”

“No, it’s not good! Someone is dead! You killed him, and it’s not even be justifiable as self-defense!”

Fabio scolded him for his rash actions.

“Even if your judgment was clouded by distortion, that curse should have broken the moment you used Retrograde! Taking a life so easily! What were you thinking? Because you have Retrograde? Because if you kill someone, you can just turn back time and pretend it never happened? So you killed him? If that’s normal for you, then how many times have you…”

Fabio looked at Andrea’s cooling corpse, his eyes closing tightly as if to block out the image.

“…This is just a game. This is a f*cking hyper-realistic game with insane graphics, but it’s just a game. It’s a virtual reality game…”

After muttering like that for a while, Fabio opened his eyes and looked at Athanas.

“…Still, I’m glad you’re not a cold-blooded murderer. If you had intended to use Retrograde after killing him, there would at least be some twisted logic to it—efficiency, right?”

“No. I won’t use Retrograde.”

“…What did you just say?”

T/N: Poor Athanas really did break down when he thought Fabio was dying. MC thinks it was just the distortion messing with his head, but we know better. Those feelings were real. ( ;´ – `;)