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

#125Reader Mode

T/N: Thanks Kamichamakarin for the coffee~

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#125

You’re seriously asking me that?

“What’s the quest reward?”

The Prophet hesitated, his lips twitching nervously. “…It increases favorability.”

Forcing someone’s favorability up?

As expected of the Distorted One, it’s creepy as hell.

“It won’t work on me.” I crossed my arms. “I’ve got a trait that blocks mental interference, so you can just forget about it.”

The Prophet shook his head. “No, not yours. Mine goes up.”

“What?”

What kind of nonsense is that?

So, the more the Prophet tried to impress me, the more he’d end up liking me?

“…Did you already get the reward?” My tone flattened with suspicion.

He shifted from foot to foot, eyes darting away. “I… I got it earlier.”

“…….”

That explains the weirdly friendly vibe earlier.

I thought he was warming up for no reason. Nope, he’d just gotten the reward halfway through our conversation.

“Is there a way to refuse it?”

“No. The reward applies automatically once the quest’s complete.”

This is total garbage.

This was practically mind control. Even if someone hated you, this dumb quest would twist their thoughts until they started thinking, ‘Huh, maybe they’re not so bad. Maybe we should be friends!’

If the Distorted One had this kind of power, why bother kidnapping people? Just play with dolls and save everyone the trouble.

“So… should I keep trying to please you, or…?” The Prophet’s voice wavered, and his hands fidgeted nervously. His anxious eyes stayed glued to me, like a lost puppy desperate for approval.

Does this kid ever think for himself?

He’s the one whose favorability is rising, but he’s waiting for me to tell him what to do? The answer’s obvious: just ignore the quest and move on.

“…That’s something you’ll have to decide for yourself.”

“Oh, right! Of course, I’ll do that!” The Prophet squeezed his eyes shut like he was trying to force an epiphany. Then suddenly, his eyes flew open, and he gasped. “I just got a notification! The quest is complete!”

I stared, dumbfounded. “…What?”

“It says, ‘Congratulations on successfully obeying the order to think for yourself! You’ve made a great impression. Reward: favorability increased.’”

“What the f—?”

Is this a joke?

Since when did quests reward people for not actually doing what they were supposed to do? The whole point was to impress me, yet I wasn’t even remotely impressed—if anything, I was nearing the edge of infuriated. But somehow, this counted as a success?

“…Oh, wait! A new quest just came in. What should I do?”

I didn’t bother responding this time.

Doesn’t matter what I say, his favorability will go up regardless.

If I told him to disobey me and he did it, it’d still count as completing the quest for thinking for himself. But if I told him to obey, he’d finish the quest for doing what I asked.

Unless… he managed to disobey me before I gave the order. Maybe then the quest would fail.

The Prophet stared at me, all wide-eyed and eager, like a puppy trying to master the ‘stay’ command for the first time.

“I’ll do whatever you say!”

…Yeah, I doubt that.

Was there really no way for him to make a decision on his own?

“Earlier, I told you to think for yourself. What decision did you come to exactly?”

The boy’s face lit up with a grin. “I decided it’s best not to think at all!”

“……”

“No, no, hear me out. Like, when I’m taking a test and I don’t know the answer, I never change my first choice. Because, you know, if you change it and get it wrong, it feels way worse.”

…Is this kid still in school?

The logic he was spouting sounded like something a student would say while cramming for an exam.

“And didn’t you say the entity behind these quests is out to get me? So, if I overthink and change my answer, it’ll probably turn out my first choice was right all along. The more I agonize over it, the more I’m just playing into their hands!”

…Oddly enough, that actually makes sense.

“So, I decided not to think at all!” he declared triumphantly.

“And what if that leads to failure?”

“Then I’ll just blame someone else. ‘I trusted this person because they seemed nice, but they tricked me!’”

With a mindset like that, it’s no wonder he seems so unbothered. Somehow, this approach is probably the only thing keeping his mental health stable.

“…Aren’t you bothered by the forced favorability increase? Doesn’t that concern you at all?”

The Prophet blinked at me, genuinely confused. “What do you mean?”

“Someone’s messing with your mind without your consent. Normally, you wouldn’t like this person, but now you’re feeling, I don’t know… drawn to them.”

“Wait, what? Why wouldn’t I like you? I probably would’ve been into you even without the reward.”

I raised a brow. “You don’t remember? The first time you saw me, you called me incredibly ugly.”

“That was the system messing with me!” he insisted, waving a hand dismissively. “You’re not actually bad-looking; your charm stat is just low, so I thought you were unattractive…” He tilted his head, eyes narrowing as he stared at me—really stared, his violet irises gleaming.

“Now that I’m actually looking at you… you’ve got a pretty cute face…”

I could hear him mumbling that under his breath, but the words hit me like a slap. Goosebumps erupted across my skin.

Shit!

Does this favorability increase come with those kinds of emotions, too?

I quickly grabbed the Prophet by the shoulders, shaking him lightly. “Snap out of it! Your perception is being distorted! It’s one thing to think I’m not ugly, but suddenly thinking I’m cute? That’s not normal! You should realize something’s off!”

“Huh?” He tilted his head, blinking at me. “Are you saying I shouldn’t find cute things cute?”

“No! I’m saying it’s not normal to just randomly start thinking I’m cute!”

The boy suddenly burst into bright, cheerful laughter. “You know what’s really adorable? Someone who doesn’t realize they’re cute.”

…I am so screwed.

A cold sweat rolled down the back of my neck.

You know what they say: once someone finds you cute, it’s game over.

I can’t just talk him out of it. This kind of emotion can’t be reversed by logic or force.

I could convince someone that ‘Fabio’ is objectively unattractive. But once they start thinking, ‘He’s ugly but kinda cute,’ it’s all downhill from there.

Damn, what does the Distorted One even want?

The Prophet reached out, his fingers brushing against my cheek with an eerie gentleness. “You’re so freaking cute. Who had the nerve to call this face ugly? I need to find them and teach them a lesson.”

“…When your favorability drops later, you’re gonna cringe so hard. This memory will haunt you, trust me. You’ll be kicking yourself for days, dying inside because you thought a scrawny goblin with a charm stat of 30 was too cute to handle.”

That’s exactly the kind of humiliation the Distorted One must be aiming for—manipulating emotions just enough to make you regret it for life.

“Huh? Why stress about what happens later?” The Prophet’s carefree voice cut through my thoughts.

“You…”

“Do you realize what this means?” He smiled brightly, as if explaining something obvious. “The fact that the Distorted One can mess with my emotions means he could make me throw away something I treasure. And later, when he lets me value it again, I’d be out there crying, searching for what I discarded with my own hands.”

As he spoke, the smile never wavered. If anything, it became brighter.

“If you overthink it, you lose.”

“……”

I’d had it all wrong.

The Distorted One wouldn’t pick a player just because they were ‘dumb and fun to mess with.’

It sought out someone who wouldn’t break down or give up easily, no matter how much they were tortured.

Just like the criteria I used when I selected Perpetua…

“…How much time is left on the emergency rescue device?”

“50 minutes. Wow, time flies. It’s a shame. I wish we could stay together a little longer.”

I ignored him as he continued stroking my face. Don’t react. The Distorted One would probably reset the favorability back to normal later anyway.

“Let’s focus on figuring out your next move. You don’t want a Game Over, right?” I tried to steer his attention to something more pressing.

“Fabio, have you ever seen the Saint’s face? Is he really as beautiful as they say?”

“Yeah, but that’s not the point right now. What’s important is—”

“No frowning!” The Prophet flicked my forehead, cutting me off. It didn’t hurt, but the annoyance was instant.

This little brat…

“Another quest just popped up.”

“What, telling you to flick people’s foreheads?”

“Fabio, seeing your furrowed brow increases my favorability.”

“What, should I grin instead? Are you sure it doesn’t rise if I smile?”

“The only thing I’m sure of is that it’s going up right now.” His voice was unnervingly cheerful.

I quickly relaxed my forehead, but I was still completely lost.

Damn, I’m supposed to be immune to distortion. So why does it still feel like I’m being manipulated?

None of this made sense. It wasn’t like he was trying to confess anything outright. Instead, it felt like a twisted threat—do what he wants, or his affection for me would skyrocket, spiraling into something even worse.

What kind of sick manipulation was this?

It felt more like a warning: if I failed to comply, his obsession would only deepen.

“Ah… thank you,” the Prophet said, smiling with a hint of discomfort. “Even for me, that was a little scary.”

“…What’s your favorability at right now?”

“It doesn’t display as a number. It shows as a percentage.”

“Can you explain it in a way that actually makes sense?”

“Hmm…” The boy tilted his head thoughtfully. “Fabio, if you asked me to die, I’d seriously consider it. Like, should I?”

F*ck.

A chill crept up my spine. I felt like I was about to lose it.

Wandering aimlessly in pitch-black darkness would be less terrifying than this.

“Ah, you frowned!”

“…Sorry.”

“That just confirmed it. If you asked me to die right now, I’d probably love you enough to do it.”

Shit. It’s really messing with me.

Distortion didn’t work on me, so the Distorted One was playing through its character to see how I’d react. Manipulating him just to screw with me.

I should’ve pretended to be a psychopath.

The Distorted One was drawn to people with rich emotions. Only those who feel deeply can experience true despair. Shallow feelings? Not interesting enough.

I replayed the conversation in my head, trying to figure out what exactly triggered this.

…It’s because I asked about getting back home, isn’t it?

Holding on to hope like that? A clear sign I’m the type who feels. That’s what caught its attention.

“Hey, what’s your real name? How old are you? Where do you live? What do you like?”

“Shut up for a bit.”

“Okay.”

How the hell am I supposed to deal with this?

If I helped the Prophet escape from the Saint, the Distorted One would label me as some bleeding-heart fool. It’d ramp up the mind games. And throughout all of it, the Prophet would love me, hate me, and love me again—over and over. A twisted cycle, all for the Distorted One’s amusement.

Can I stop this with Forced Persuasion?

…Unlikely. It’s a long shot at best.

The problem is, Forced Persuasion only really sticks after repeated use. And this guy? He’s not some low-level mob. He’s the ‘Cult Leader’ unit. You think the Distorted One is just going to sit idly by and let me waltz off with the Prophet?

The second I think I’ve succeeded, it’ll pull the rug out from under me. Remind me it was all a delusion.

I’ve seen this play out before. The Distorted One’s obsession with pure-hearted souls is almost… perverse. It thrives on warping good intentions into something dark and twisted. It dangles hope in front of you, only to snatch it away at the last moment, leaving you drowning in despair.

If there’s one hard-and-fast rule when dealing with the Distorted One, it’s this: never hold onto the hope that you can ‘save’ anyone.

You’re better off acknowledging defeat and taking the Game Over.

Pretending to care, playing nice, acting like the Prophet matters to me… and then triggering a Game Over when the Saint catches up? That’s the safest strategy here.

…I’ll gather what intel I can along the way.

For now, I need to wear the mask of someone soft-hearted…

“…Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Hey, you told me to shut up, so I did!”

…If anything, he’s even more on edge now. Like a puppy forced to wait an eternity in front of a treat.

Wait, did I just scowl without realizing?

“Actually, before we dive into that, mind if I ask a few more questions?”

“Ask away, as much as you like!”

“Why did you take Adelaide and hide her? What were you planning to do?”

“Huh? What do you mean, ‘why’? I took her because I wanted her to be happy.”

“Do you like Adelaide?”

“Of course! How could anyone not like Adelaide?”

“Did you ever stop to consider that maybe what you did actually put her in more danger?”

“Nope.”

“…Wouldn’t she have been safer staying at the Cathedral?”

“No way. Definitely not.”

“And why’s that?”

“Well… because Adelaide’s a servant of the Distorted One.”

“What?”

I couldn’t stop the frown that crept onto my face. The Prophet, who had been watching me with an unsettlingly blissful expression, immediately caught it. His eyes sharpened, and I quickly worked to smooth out my expression.

“Ah…” The Prophet let out a disappointed sigh.

“Explain. Did you make Adelaide a servant of the Distorted One?”

“No. Adelaide was a ‘placement.’”

“A placement?”

“Yeah, before the game starts, Othergods can spend ‘Clear Points’ to place certain things in the world. Could be traits, units, or items.”

I wondered if this was anything like the trait the Mother God had given me.

“One of those placements is a servant,” the Prophet continued. “But it’s determined by gacha. One random unit who’s already given their soul to the Distorted One gets selected as their servant. Andrea was actually the second-best unit chosen.”

“Who was the first?” I asked, though I had a sinking feeling I already knew the answer.

“That would be Adelaide!”

I was stunned. Adelaide had given her soul to the Distorted One?

“That… doesn’t make sense. Adelaide was a Saintess.”

“She was a half-baked Saintess,” he corrected. “She wasn’t meant to be one. But she made a desperate wish and became one anyway. That’s why she coughed up blood every time she used her powers. Using power without proper qualifications messes with the natural order.”

“…….”

“When the tutorial ends and the Apostles begin to act, she’ll be exposed and executed on the spot.”

“…Even if she does nothing?” I asked, struggling to grasp the sheer cruelty of it all. It seemed so unjust, so…

Suddenly, a system message flashed in front of my eyes:

[SYSTEM: Due to the effect of ‘The Whole World Is Beneath Oneself,’ the ‘Distortion’ is provided as text.]

…What the hell?

The Prophet’s face fell, a shadow of disappointment crossing his features.

“What did you just… no, why did you use that?”

“I-it was nothing, really!”

Don’t give me that bullshit.

I fixed him with a glare. “Don’t lie to me. Tell me honestly. What were you trying to do?”

His face flushed red, and he wouldn’t meet my eyes. “It’s just that I like you so, so, sooo much…”

Like me?

None of this made sense. He liked me so much he wanted to inflict pain and terror on me? So this wasn’t a simple case of favorability flipping…

“I want to kill you because of it,” he blurted out.

“What?”

“Or maybe have you kill me. Oh, I want both so badly… what should I do? Can you resurrect? If you can, could you die by my hand and then come back to life to kill me?”

I stared at him in disbelief. “Are you crazy?”

The Prophet rolled his eyes, like I’d asked something trivial. “No? I haven’t even unlocked the Madness trait yet.”

Is this something a sane person would say?

My mind raced, connecting the dots I hadn’t seen before.

Only successful clears were saved as clips. The Prophet said he’d played for 800 hours but never saw the ending. That meant Pandemonium and Napoleon must have learned his username through some other way.

And if he never checked guides, he wasn’t active on wikis or in-game communities.

But if a strategy game enthusiast like Napoleon knew his name, that meant the Prophet had been a memorable ‘player’ in some way…

“Athanas… anata ga suki desu…?”¹T/N: ‘アタナスあなたがすきです’ or ‘Athanas anata ga suki desu’ means ‘Athanas I love/like you’ in Japanese. Lol.

As soon as I muttered the words, two system messages popped up:

[SYSTEM: アタナスあなたがすきです is online.]

[SYSTEM: Messaging feature is unavailable while time adjustment is in progress.]