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

#128Reader Mode

T/N: Appreciate the honest review on NU, cskz_04! The Fabio Cult welcomes you back with open arms and conveniently, handcuffs. No leaving this time! HappyHappy disciples, prepare the brainwashing chants! Mwahaha! Ψ(｀▽´)Ψ

#128

Wow, that actually worked.

I blinked the notification window away.

…Does that mean ‘Forced Persuasion’ will work now too?

Technically, ‘Rank’ or influence isn’t a skill in the traditional sense. It’s just the system’s way of flashing a pop-up to tell me the conditions for an ability are met. But the real question is whether Forced Persuasion will come through for me this time.

Andrea didn’t catch on… but Reyes might.

Reyes is a Cult Leader unit, which means he has high mental defenses. There’s a good chance my skill won’t stick.

“Hey, listen to me for a sec.”

The boy’s gaze snapped to mine, obedient as a puppy.

…I can’t tell if it’s working or not.

Seriously, would it kill the system to give me a little feedback? A glowing icon? A ping? Something to tell me I’ve successfully used the skill. But no, this whole thing seems fundamentally opposed to user convenience.

“Right now, your Helper’s trying to convince you to kill yourself. Don’t listen to it. No suicide, no self-harm, none of that. You don’t get to escape from here by dying, got it?”

“Yes!”

What the…

I had my speech ready to grind him down with Forced Persuasion. Instead, he agreed so fast it knocked the wind out of me.

“And just to be crystal clear, no hurting or killing me either. No injuries, no making me miserable, no making me suffer. Got that?”

“Got it!”

His eager compliance made my brain buffer for a second.

Five seconds ago, he was extremely obsessive…

Did his Helper figure out my skill and ‘distort’ his hearing? Like, just enough distortion to make him hear what it wanted him to hear?

“Uh… just to double-check, what exactly did you hear me say?”

“No worries! You confessed! You told me not to die and that I have to stay by your side forever!”

Yeah… this is all kinds of wrong.

It’s not like he resisted my ability outright. It’s messier than that. Like the signal warped halfway through transmission, twisting into something… weird. Not quite a rejection, not exactly acceptance. Just enough distortion to leave me standing here wondering what the hell is going on.

Alright, let’s try one more test.

Forced Persuasion works like a hook. It drags the target into a conversation, whether they want to engage or not. They can’t walk away, can’t block you out, and they have to respond. All I need to do is dangle the right bait, something he can’t resist arguing about.

“One last thing. Don’t go see Athanas.”

“…Why?”

Perfect. Now, let’s throw in some nonsense and see what happens.

“Because it’s cold outside.”

He tilted his head, clearly not expecting that. “What’s so bad about cold weather?”

“Cold weather raises the risk of heart attacks,” I said, dead serious.

Pure nonsense, obviously. But he paused, actually thinking it over, and then beamed at me with a smile so blinding it could rival a solar flare.

“Got it!”

Got what?

“I won’t go see Athanas.”

“…Really?”

“With someone who cares about me this much, how could I die?”

What the hell did he just understand?

“You’re seriously that worried I’m gonna drop dead from a heart attack just by meeting Athanas?”

“No…”

He clasped his hands together, eyes shimmering with pure delight. “Aw, I love you too!”

At that point, I mentally checked out and gave up. There was no way to tell if the skill was working, if his brain was scrambled, or if he was just running on pure nonsense, and honestly, it could be all three. But as long as he wasn’t running around with a dagger or having a meltdown, I could deal with it.

We’ll sort this out after the Saint leaves. One disaster at a time.

“Alright, for now…”

I glanced around the underground library, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on me.

Bishop Andrea was still kneeling, locked in silent fervent prayer like the world might end if he stopped.

Nasir lay curled on the cold floor, shivering, caught in the claws of some nightmare, his groans low and miserable.

Nearby, Reyes stood awkwardly, cradling his injured hand as blood dripped to the floor in slow, dark splashes.

What the hell am I supposed to do with all of this?

One thing was painfully clear: the Saint cannot see this mess.

“Stay here for now. Make sure Andrea and Nasir don’t come upstairs.”

Reyes nodded without hesitation. “Okay.”

“…Aren’t you even going to ask what I’m planning to do?”

“You’re going to meet the Saint, right?”

“And what if I bring the Saint down here and give you a Game Over?” I asked, testing him one last time.

“But you won’t. Will you?”

Why does that piss me off so much?

The way he said it, like he was so sure and knew me better than I knew myself.

Fine. I’ll send the Saint away for now, but if you step out of line, I won’t hesitate to Game Over you.

Not that it mattered much right now. This wasn’t even the biggest fire I had to put out.

How do I convince the Saint…

I needed an excuse that couldn’t be picked apart. Something solid enough to hold under scrutiny.

And the holy relic’s shield already triggered once too.

It’s like showing up at the scene of an accident only to find someone lounging in a car with the airbags already deployed, casually saying, “Oh, everything’s fine.” Are you just supposed to nod, say, “Got it,” and walk away?

“…What about that emergency rescue device for the tutorial? Is there anything else it does? Maybe something that works on an Apostle?”

Reyes blinked, thinking. “It makes sure no traces of an Othergod remain on a corpse after suicide.”

“Not helpful.”

“That’s all it does.”

Fantastic. Completely useless.

“Nothing else? No bonus abilities or secret items for the tutorial? Something? Anything?”

Reyes chewed on his lip, thinking it over. “Well… Apostles won’t chase you past their aggro range, even if they sense an Othergod’s power.”

Except the Saint’s range covers the entire Cathedral, right?

“Any chance the Saint missed the shield going off? There’s gotta be a way to explain why it would trigger without a real threat.”

He shrugged lazily. “I wouldn’t know. I’m not the Saint.”

“……”

Is my life on the line here?

No, his life was on the line. And if he really bought into my whole ‘thinking is winning’ speech, now would be an excellent time to start thinking.

This was infuriating.

Fine. Screw thinking. I’ll stop doing that too.

If all else fails, I’ll just tell the Saint that nothing happened and hope for the best. If it doesn’t work… well, I’ll send Athanasuki a nice condolence message and move on.

With the decision made, I stepped out of the underground library.

…Something’s wrong.

An eerie silence enveloped me. It wasn’t the usual peaceful quiet, but a suffocating stillness that felt unnatural, as if the world was holding its breath.

Everyone, from the children to the elders, stood motionless, their eyes glazed over and vacant. They all faced the same direction as if compelled by some invisible force.

Shit.

Each breath felt labored, the air thick and heavy against my chest. I couldn’t see the divine power, but I sure as hell could feel it. Inescapable. All-consuming. Demanding total subservience.

Someone immensely powerful was coming. His mere approach commanded utter silence, forcing every living thing to stand in frozen awe and reverence. The world itself seemed to bow in submission.

He said I could call him anytime to see his face… and then shows up like this?

An icy shiver raced through me as sweat formed on my brow.

What’s with the over-the-top entrance?

Did he detect the faint Othergod presence back in the library? Was this the arrival of divine judgment, the Saint as enforcer of Order?

“Fabio.”

His voice sliced through the eerie hush, the sound too heavenly and resonant to be natural.

Then I saw him. The Saint himself, gliding through the motionless crowd with fluid elegance. The people parted for him, pulled like marionettes on invisible strings. His steps were feather-light, his movements graceful yet terrifying in their inevitability. Like an unstoppable storm given human form. His presence twisted the very air, pulling all attention like gravity itself. Undeniable. Inescapable. Absolute.

I swallowed hard, my throat as dry as desert sand.

“Y-Your Holiness, I… I wasn’t expecting such a grand entrance.”

“Do you dislike being noticed?”

With a casual flick of his hand, the crowd around us stirred back to life. Like puppets with their strings restored, people blinked, shook off the trance, and returned to their routines, blissfully unaware of what had just happened. Not a single person spared the Saint a glance. In their minds, he might as well have never existed.

…Oblivion.

Adna’s version had been terrifying enough. But this… this was something else entirely. An entire street altered and reshaped with a mere wave of his hand, memories erased as if they were nothing more than specks of dust on a forgotten shelf.

What am I supposed to do against someone like him?

The Saint’s gaze was soft and warm, like the first breeze of spring. Yet beneath that warmth, I felt exposed, pinned in place as if I were a fragile insect under glass.

“Fabio. Why did you summon me?”

“I-I didn’t mean to,” I stammered, the words tumbling out before I could think. “It was… an accident. I was holding the relic, and the Lord’s name just… slipped out. I’m really sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?”

“For… wasting your time. I know you must be busy. I… I didn’t mean to drag you here for nothing,” I replied, my face burning with shame as every brain cell screamed at me for giving such a pathetic excuse.

He knows. He has to know I’m lying.

The Saint smiled, a gentle curve that reached deep into his molten silver eyes. It was the kind of smile that made you want to surrender everything and feel grateful for it. “I told you to call on me whenever you needed, didn’t I? I’m just glad it wasn’t for anything more urgent.”

…Is he pretending to be fooled?

Without warning, his hand closed around mine. For an instant, a message flickered across my vision:

[SYSTEM: Due to the effect of ‘The Whole World Is Beneath Oneself,’ the status effect ‘Blessing of Comfort’ has been nullified.]

It disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving me face to face with the Saint’s tranquil expression.

“You seem tense,” he remarked, his voice smooth, tender, like silk unspooling, tempting me to unravel the knot of tension wound tight inside my chest.

“……”

Under normal circumstances, I would’ve scoffed. ‘What’s wrong with this guy? Hasn’t he learned by now that his blessings don’t work on me?’ But this felt different. Intentional, even. He knew his blessing would fail, yet he did it anyway. This wasn’t just force of habit. There was a calculated motive behind it.

“If calling me for no particular reason makes you uneasy,” the Saint said casually, “why not come up with a reason now?”

“A reason?”

“That’s right. Ask me anything that troubles you. I’ll do my best to give you the answers you need.”

…Yeah, right. Like you’d actually tell me anything useful.

“You’re hesitating,” he observed with unsettling accuracy. “Is it because you don’t think I’ll tell you the truth?”

The words struck like a lightning bolt, landing squarely on the thought I’d just had, as if he’d reached into my mind and pulled it out himself. I tensed up, but his expression remained unchanged. Instead, his thumb drew slow, comforting circles on the back of my hand. It was like he was coaxing a skittish animal to open up.

“You have nothing to lose by asking, right?”

…Why is he pushing so hard for me to ask something?

There had to be a reason. If he really wanted to see me, he didn’t need to wait for my call. He could’ve shown up anytime. Unless… there was some sort of restriction.

And then it clicked. His earlier words replayed in my mind:

The Saint exists solely to hear and act upon the Lord’s words. Without a command, he does not move.

The last command had been clear and exact:

Find the ‘Watched Ones’ and bring them into the embrace of Order.

Roklem was trying to trap players, that much was obvious. But what if the system itself imposed limits on what He and the Saint could do?

And what if I could lift those limits by saying the right thing?

“Is there truly nothing you wish to ask?”

I hesitated, swallowing the uncertainty sitting heavy in my throat. “Actually… there is. You mentioned I could ask about my past. Could you tell me more?”

“What exactly would you like to know?”

“I want to know about my life before I turned seventeen. Was there… anyone I interacted with regularly?”

The Saint nodded thoughtfully, considering my request. “If you’d prefer, it might be best to hear about Perpetua from someone who knew her well.”

“M-meeting them in person might be a bit…”

“Would a written summary be more comfortable for you?” he offered, smiling with a kindness and understanding that seemed endless, as if he could see right through my attempts to avoid directly asking what I really wanted to know.

“If it’s not too much trouble…”

“Not at all, Fabio. My purpose is to help you. You don’t need to feel anxious about asking for my help.”

He reached out and gently brushed a stray hair from my face. “Whenever you need me, I’ll be here. And if you wish for peace, I’ll leave you in it.”

As he leaned in closer, his silver hair slid across his shoulders and lightly grazed my skin. I held my breath, sensing an undefinable tension in the shrinking space between us. I couldn’t move.

Reverently, his fingers picked up the relic I wore around my neck. In a fleeting kiss, he pressed his lips to it. “Remember,” he breathed, his soft voice weighted with significance, “have faith and Order will protect you.”

The warmth in his words wrapped around me like a soft blanket—comforting, but with the faintest thread of warning hidden in its folds.

“Well then,” he said, straightening up as if the charged moment had never occurred, “I must return to my prayers.”

He turned to leave, moving with the same quiet grace that had accompanied his arrival. Just before stepping away, he glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t worry… I’ll see you again before long.”

And with that, he was gone, vanishing so seamlessly it felt like he had never been there at all.

I stood there, dazed and motionless, struggling to make sense of what had just happened.

…That’s it?

After making such an impressive entrance… he left without demanding a single answer from me? Without questioning anything?

My fingers trembled as I tucked the relic back under my robe, heart pounding wildly in my chest.

Did he really not sense anything in the underground library?

Or worse, did he notice but simply decided to let it slide?

Hiding a sinner is no small matter… It’s a serious crime.

The pounding in my chest grew louder, my thoughts spiraling. If the Saint had detected my sin, he was obligated to pass judgment right then and there. That was the way of the Church of Order. Swift, unflinching, and without mercy.

Turning a blind eye to a sinner was a violation of everything an enforcer stood for. Judgment had to be delivered.

The warnings from doctrinal lessons replayed vividly in my mind—story after story of enforcers who faltered, sparing sinners in moments of uncertainty or pity. Each one met with harsh punishment for their failure to carry out their sacred duty.

So why did he let me go?

The unsettling question lingered in my mind, elusive and just out of reach.

This has to be some kind of tutorial mechanism.

Maybe the Saint sensed I was hiding something but couldn’t act on it because the system didn’t recognize it as a sin. There had to be rules or conditions I’d slipped through, some loophole that kept me safe.

After all, the Saint is a vessel for the Lord’s will as defined by the doctrine. He would never knowingly violate those sacred commandments… right?

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

“Did something pleasant happen?”

The Saint’s silver eyes crinkled at the corners, his warm smile nearly infectious. “Ah, Sextus, it’s hard to hide anything from you. I just had the most delightful little chat with Fabio, actually.”

“Fabio…?” Sextus repeated, unable to keep a hint of longing from coloring his voice before he caught himself. He cleared his throat and straightened his posture. “And what brought about this meeting?”

“He summoned me by accident, it seems.”

“…Did he, now?” Sextus’s brow furrowed, puzzled why the Saint looked so pleased about that.

“Our conversation didn’t last long, but I can tell Fabio has been studying the doctrine diligently.”

“That’s certainly admirable.”

Pride shone in the Saint’s luminous eyes, but it mingled with a more complex, deeper emotion beneath the surface.

And it was admirable, truly. Fabio was well aware of his own transgressions, feeling the oppressive weight of his sins bearing down on his very soul. With every step, he was reminded of how unbalanced Fabio had become. The Saint could perceive it all with perfect clarity – the heavy burden, the sinful acts, the way they etched themselves indelibly onto Fabio’s spirit.

But as the chief Apostle of Order and Judgment, the Saint didn’t need to inflict punishment to comprehend the gravity of the situation. The severity of Fabio’s offenses was plain as day, each unresolved moment tipping the scales ever further out of alignment.

More than anything, the Saint yearned to relieve Fabio of that oppressive burden of sin. He ached with an almost physical need to help him, to hold his hand and guide him. He longed to gently usher Fabio to the soothing balm of confession, to tenderly remind him that he need not shoulder this weight alone – that he was never meant to bear the sins of others on his own.

After all, offering compassion, granting salvation… this was the Saint’s very purpose, his fundamental nature.

And yet… he wavered.

If I step in now, he’ll only drift further out of reach.

The Saint’s hands balled into fists as he grappled with the overwhelming urge to help. By staying passive, by allowing Fabio to bear the weight of his transgressions alone, the Saint knew he was himself committing a grievous sin. To turn a blind eye to such wrongdoing was to betray his holy calling, to spit in the very face of Order.

Each moment of inaction was like swallowing a mouthful of thorns, every second a searing agony inside. But the Saint endured it. He must.

If this excruciating torment was the price demanded to ultimately deliver Fabio to salvation, he would pay it a thousand times over without hesitation.

Beyond the bounds of Order’s domain, Fabio’s soul was vulnerable, defenseless against the unspeakable horrors that lurked in the void beyond the stars. In that vast, anarchic abyss, the very concept of salvation held no meaning. There, insatiable monstrosities lay in wait, eager to feast upon the lost and extinguish even the dimmest flicker of hope.

The Saint’s only chance, his only hope, was to draw Fabio into the safety of Order’s embrace, to envelope him so utterly and completely that nothing could ever touch him again. That knowledge pierced through him, each thought sinking deeper like a barb lodging into his heart. And yet, amid the torment, there was a strange, almost masochistic pleasure. He inhaled slowly, savoring the sharp edges of the ache.

The agony only fortified his resolve. He would save Fabio, no matter the cost.

He would never let him go. Not for anything.

“Yes…” the Saint murmured, his voice tranquil despite the tempest that raged inside him. “Fabio’s existence outside the realm of Order has always been a source of worry…”

An impossibly tender, serene smile graced his features as he clasped his hands in solemn prayer.

“…But to know that he will inevitably find his eternal place nestled in the embrace of Order fills me with a joy beyond compare.”

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T/N Schedule Update: Hey everyone! Just a heads-up. I’ve got a certification exam coming up, and I need to pass it within a month. So, I’ll have to cut back on uploads to once a week for both series until it’s done. I know, it sucks, but I don’t want the quality of the translations to dip if I try to juggle both. Fingers crossed I’ll pass soon, and once I do, I’ll update you all and things will go back to normal. Thanks for understanding! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧