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

#101Reader Mode

#101

In polytheistic belief systems, even the most powerful gods tremble at the thought of being overthrown.

Just look at the Greek gods for example. Cronus, the mighty Titan, was so consumed by the fear of his own offspring rising up against him that he resorted to swallowing them whole. And Zeus, the thunderbolt-wielding lord of Olympus himself, was haunted by the constant worry that someday, an even mightier being would emerge to claim his place.

But has the Christian God ever trembled at the thought of losing to Satan? It seems almost laughable, doesn’t it? That’s because He isn’t just one god among many; He is the one, all-powerful deity. To truly reign supreme, there can only be one on the throne.

And that’s exactly what Conclude’s victory condition requires: to be the one and only god, ruling over all creation. Even if Roklem joins forces with another subordinate god, that god is simply another obstacle to remove in the end. They don’t need to be completely destroyed, just stripped of their divinity, reduced to something less than divine. Oh, they might beg for the sweet release of death in their diminished state, seeing it as a kinder fate… but that’s the whole point, isn’t it?

…What if the Othergods are allowed to run rampant simply to create a pretext to kill them later?

Roklem, the God of Order and ‘Condemnation’, is at his most powerful when confronting the sinful.

Need to kill a human? Tempt them into sin first.

Want to raze a city to the ground? Make sure it’s brimming with the guilty.

And if you want to reset the world…

…This is the kind of suspicion I wouldn’t dare breathe a word of to Athanas. I seriously thought about taking it to my grave.

Right now, it’s just a baseless speculation, nothing more. But if Roklem got wind of it, he’d probably be so appalled that he’d smite me on the spot. “They say in the eyes of a pig, only pigs can be seen. How twisted must your soul be to even consider such a thing?” he’d say, or something equally condescending.

But there’s no evidence to disprove it either.

I thought to myself, narrowing my eyes at the wax tablet.

Maybe if I let this guy keep running his mouth, he’ll let something useful slip. And if it turns out to be a dead end…

…Well, then I’ll just have to take it to the Heresy Inquisition.

Casimir should be able to ‘condemn’ the God of Records directly. Plus, she’s been ‘deeply moved’ by me before, so I should be able to convince her not to believe any ‘lies’ the God of Records might spread.

I’m not thrilled about using ‘forced persuasion’, but my neck is on the line here…

After some mental back-and-forth, I jotted down a question: ‘Why is my immunity to Oblivion so important? What secret about the Order do you know?’

‘Library, come back, this state, convey, difficult.’

Are you crazy??

First this thing uses the Research Director to threaten me, and now it expects me to waltz right back into the library?

Yeah, right.

’I can’t just take your word for it without any proof. For all I know, you could be lying through your teeth.’

‘Evidence, library, if you come back, I’ll show you, trust me.’

Nope, not happening.

I’d sooner trust a used car salesman than set foot in that library based on this bastard’s promises.

’I’m not risking my life for a secret that might not even be real. Threaten me all you want, I’m not going back. Tell the director whatever you feel like. Without hard evidence, I’m not budging an inch.’

The second I finished my reply, the letters on the wax tablet went haywire, twisting and contorting like they were having a seizure. Was it getting all worked up, or was it just processing? Either way, it took a hot minute before it spat out a message that actually made sense.

‘Order, evidence, erases, that’s, evidence.’

Okay, so it could string words together to form a sentence, but that didn’t mean they added up.

What kind of crackpot logic is this?

The lack of evidence for a secret is proof that it exists? That’s like saying the absence of a murder weapon proves the killer also tampered with the evidence.

‘Try again. That’s not even close to convincing.’

The letters rearranged themselves again, this time settling into a new response more quickly:

‘Ask, someone, not an apostle, oblivion, name.’

The name of the God of Oblivion? What for?

Just as I was about to press for more info, the letters shifted again, without any prompting.

‘Three days, I’ll wait, I, limit, goodbye.’

“Wait a sec…!”

But before I could get another word in, the letters scattered like a swarm of startled insects, leaving me staring at a blank slate. My attempts to write a follow-up question were met with radio silence. Looks like the tablet had gone back to its usual, non-possessed self.

…Was this thing some kind of consumable item?

Did it have a limited number of uses, like ten messages or something?

If that’s the case, why blow them all on saying the same thing over and over?

Stick to the important stuff you bastard!

Maybe its intelligence stat is pretty low?

Should I just report it to the Heresy Inquisition right now?

I gave it some serious thought.

I wasn’t even sure this moron actually knew any real secrets about the Order.

…No, I’ll look into the God of Oblivion tomorrow and make the call then.

With three days to come to a decision, I had more than enough time to take this to the Inquisition if needed. I wiped the scribbles off the wax tablet, letting out a sigh.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The next day, I figured Elamin would be a solid starting point. If he, as an outsider to the entire Empire and not a priest himself, had the answer, then the name for the God of Oblivion must be pretty common knowledge, right?

Of course, I wasn’t about to just blurt out, “Hey, what’s the God of Oblivion called?” That would make me a total idiot.

“…So, you’re curious about exactly how many subordinate gods there are? Well, I’ve heard some of them can only use their blessings in specific places. If you count those minor gods, there must be a lot, right?” Elamin rattled off a list of gods he knew, but nothing about oblivion came up.

Maybe asking directly about the god would be better…

Athanas was next on my list to question. Since we’d both experienced that bizarre phenomenon in the main building, I figured I could directly ask him about “oblivion.”

“…Yes, I’ve heard of the Blessing of Oblivion,” he said, furrowing his brow. “But I’ve never come across the actual name of the god behind it or any legends about them. And now that I think about it, I’ve never met a priest of oblivion either.”

He paused for a moment, then added, “Actually, it’s strange, isn’t it? For a god powerful enough to bestow blessings upon everyone who enters the library, it’s odd that its name isn’t widely known…”

Athanas was also certain this mysterious god wasn’t mentioned in the Pantheon.

Am I the only one who thinks this makes zero sense?

A god with that level of power and authority should be well-known, not some minor, obscure deity. In the divine realm, a god’s Domain or ‘Influence’ is essentially their rank, their status.

Imagine a low-ranking god whose only domain is “freshwater.” At best, they could bestow a “blessing of stream water.” Even if the supreme god of the entire continent were to borrow that freshwater power, they’d still be limited to creating streams, not vast oceans.

But this Blessing of Oblivion on the main building? It’s insanely powerful, just based on the sheer magnitude of it.

So how could a god wield such immense power yet remain so unknown? It should be impossible.

Could it be some kind of esoteric religion at work here?

Esoteric religions are known for spreading their doctrine in a closed, secretive manner. Followers go to great lengths to conceal every aspect of their beliefs—the name of their god, their teachings, even the initiation process for new members. They often have covert ways of recognizing each other, while outsiders remain completely in the dark, like an underground secret society operating in the shadows.

But there’s a glaring issue with this theory. To maintain such a high level of secrecy, new believers must be selected with extreme caution and discretion, making it incredibly difficult to expand the religion’s reach – a potentially fatal weakness for any faith.

But if they have the Blessing of Oblivion…

With the power to erase and restore memories, keeping secrets would be a breeze, wouldn’t it?

The university grads mentioned their forgotten memories come back the moment they step into the main building.

This could mean that the followers of the God of Oblivion might have their own memories of worship completely wiped in their daily lives, only to have it all come flooding back when they enter a designated place.

But for this to work, there’d need to be a plausible reason for regular gatherings at the same location…

What kind of a setup wouldn’t raise suspicions among outsiders, yet wouldn’t exactly welcome those who were out of the loop?

…An academic society, perhaps?

Athanas, who had been deep in thought like me, broke the silence.

“I’m going to investigate this God of Oblivion.”

Sweet, that means I can kick back and see what he uncovers tomorrow.

Being a goblin bastard without the Blessing of Order, I wasn’t exactly eager about digging into this myself.

If Athanas looks into it, he’s got nothing to hide, so it should be safe.

“Just be careful. Even just asking questions could put a target on your back if they’re intentionally keeping this under wraps,” I cautioned.

“You needn’t worry about that.”

Right, Athanas is a genius at acting.

I, on the other hand, had been totally fooled before, so I wasn’t really in a position to offer advice.

He’ll probably handle it just fine on his own.

Athanas locked eyes with me. “…Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

“Anything else?”

“Were there… any incidents while we were separated? Anything dangerous?”

Dangerous incidents, huh…

A sinister, dangerous situation nearly happened. I was this close to being hauled off as a lab slave – without even a degree to my name. And the danger was still out there. Callister’s parting words, “until next time,” rang ominously in my head.

But I couldn’t tell any of this to Athanas. If he started turning up at the orphanage for my “protection,” another run-in with Callister was inevitable – only this time, Athanas would be right beside me. And Callister would undoubtedly bring up the “lost property.”

Athanas would immediately connect the dots to the God of Records.

Concealing that I’d once again gotten my hands on an item tied to a traitor? It would raise a thousand red flags. Even if I swore up and down that I hadn’t communicated with the guy, it would reek of a desperate lie.

No. I couldn’t say anything until I’d reported to the Heresy Inquisition and dealt with the God of Records. Only then could I dodge suspicion of being in cahoots with a traitor.

Of course, Athanas would be royally pissed if he knew I was hiding the danger and going solo…

…But let’s be real, losing his trust is the least of my worries. If he catches me doubting the Order, our whole partnership could implode.

Between [Trust -50] and [Trust -9999], it’s a no-brainer, right? I gotta go with the former.

“…No, not really.” I lied.

But one look at Athanas’ face told me I wasn’t fooling anyone.

Uh-oh.

My response came out unnaturally delayed because I’d taken too long to answer.

I hurriedly tacked on a flimsy excuse, trying to make it obvious I was hiding something that was eating at me.

“Th-the creature was super well-behaved today too! There was absolutely no danger whatsoever! Seriously!”

Athanas cocked an eyebrow. “…Saying it was well-behaved ‘today’ suggests it’s usually fierce?”

“No, that’s not it. It just gets in the way when I’m reading, climbing on the book and begging for attention or pets. It seems bored because Andrea usually keeps it tucked in his sleeve.”

“…Does he let it out during his lessons?”

“Yeah?”

“And you pet it?”

“Yes…”

Athanas’s expression turned stonier by the second.

I can practically hear the trust meter nosediving in real time.

“But it can’t be helped! That creature has the power to make you think it’s adorable.”

“Fabio, you at this moment…”

“Of course, I don’t actually find it cute! I’ve got mental immunity, after all. But I’ve got no choice except to pet it since I have to act like I’m affected by its power. It’s not like I’m touching it ‘cause I’m into it.”

Athanas fixed me with a stern look. “And you didn’t consider this dangerous?”

“Well, nothing happened when all was said and done, so…”

He looks seriously pissed.

“…Fabio, didn’t you swear to me you’d be mindful of your safety?”

I managed to keep Athanas from suspecting anything else, but now I was in for the safety lecture of the century. For a solid hour, Athanas hammered home just how insanely dangerous “Othergod’s Creature” was, and how I should never, ever let my guard down around it.

…If only he knew the creature had been completely docile today, snoozing on my lap during the lesson… But telling him that would’ve been a disaster.

I would’ve hemorrhaged a ton of trust points.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The following day.

As soon as I opened my eyes, I grabbed the wax tablet. It was unchanged.

…It’s best not to do anything to raise Athanas’ hackles after yesterday.

I’d tossed and turned all night, but the only conclusion I’d reached was that even if the Order was truly untrustworthy, I was powerless to do anything about it.

Worse, if I lost faith in them, Athanas would turn into my enemy. The mere thought made my heart sink.

No matter what this investigation into oblivion digs up, I have to go to the Heresy Inquisition.

Having made that call, I felt a bit lighter.

When I met up with Athanas in Valentine’s prayer room, he seemed like his usual self, which settled my nerves a bit.

Okay, no grim expression probably means he didn’t unearth any apocalyptic secrets about oblivion.

“Did your investigation turn anything up?” I inquired.

“Not much,” he confessed. “Just the name of the god. Nothing definite beyond that.”

“Really? What’s the name?”

“The God of Oblivion is called…”

Athanas began to say the name, but out of nowhere, a system window flashed across my field of vision with an ear-splitting notification sound.

[SYSTEM: ‘The Whole World Is Beneath One’s Self’ trait effect has blocked an ‘intrusion’ attempt.]

…Intrusion?