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

#141Reader Mode

T/N: 2/2

#141

The invisible noose around my neck dissipated the second my identity was confirmed.

I stared in disbelief. That was it? That’s all it took?

Seriously, if you’re going to verify someone’s identity, at least make the question remotely challenging. Something that requires actual brainpower.

Before humans ruled the Earth, wasn’t Lystrosaurus the most prolific land animal of its time? Sure, it’s not exactly common knowledge, but it’s hardly classified intel either. This felt way too easy.

“Are you serious? That’s enough? It’s just some random trivia. Even if I wasn’t me, someone else could’ve answered that.”

“It might seem like common knowledge to you,” he retorted.

Oh, right. This is the same guy who launches into a full-blown historical lecture if I so much as misplace a date in the Battle of Jido-whatever. Apparently, that’s ‘basic knowledge’, too. Hypocrite.

Pandemonium chuckled, a low rumble in his chest.

“And if some random dinosaur nerd was asked that without context, their first question would probably be about where it was excavated or the fossil type. Don’t you think?”

…Fair point.

Before I could decide whether to argue or admit defeat, Pandemonium slid his hands under my armpits, effortlessly holding me for a moment before gently lowering me to the ground.

…I could’ve landed perfectly fine on my own from this height if he’d just canceled the damn telekinesis.

What was the point of holding me like that?

Was he trying to embarrass me? Or was he just showing off how strong he is?

“You felt light when I held you earlier, too. Aren’t you a little too skinny?”

This asshole.

“Are you bragging?”

“…What?”

“Are you bragging, you medieval-era prick? Back when calorie consumption was a sign of wealth, are you trying to rub it in that you were one of the privileged elites who had plenty to eat and grew up strong, while the rest of us were struggling to get by? Huh? Is that it, you damn noble bastard??”

Unlike the medieval era we read about in history books, the Dark Realm wasn’t plagued by extreme starvation—not even for the serfs. But don’t let that fool you into thinking their meals were anything resembling a balanced diet.

With hunting strictly off-limits, protein was basically a mythical creature, occasionally appearing in the form of a rabbit snared by sheer dumb luck or whatever scrawny livestock they managed to raise. High-quality fats and proteins? Forget about it. Those were the stuff of fairytales, filed under ‘F’ for fiction, right next to dragons and honest tax collectors.

When I ended up in this body, all there was to eat was that godforsaken turnip stew. Every. Single. Day.

Seriously, how was anyone supposed to gain a pound with a diet like that?

Living off scraps, waking up before the damn rooster even thought about crowing to work yourself into an early grave… there weren’t exactly “surplus” calories lying around to transform into fat or muscle.

“I just thought maybe you were skipping meals or something…” Pandemonium shrugged.

“Oh, is that so?” My voice turned razor-sharp. “Well, did you know? Among the serfs, I was considered one of the lucky ones. The well-fed ones. If you lined up all the serfs and weighed them, I’d confidently place in the top 20%! But, of course, compared to a noble like you—someone who probably enjoys a three-course steak dinner every night—I must look like some emaciated goblin, huh?”

Pandemonium blinked, his head tilting slightly. “…Are you sulking?”

Heat flooded my face, and I scrubbed at my cheek with my sleeve, trying to physically erase the embarrassment. Whether there was something actually there or just the remnants of my shredded pride, it had to go.

Everything about this situation was unbearably humiliating.

If I’d known it would come to this, I should’ve just come clean from the start. Anything would’ve been better than breaking down into a blubbering mess about not wanting to die.

I stared up at him, my voice barely a breath. “You… if it hadn’t been me… would you really have done it? Would you have killed me?”

“What? No way!” Pandemonium’s head whipped back and forth so violently it’s a wonder it didn’t go flying off his shoulders.

“Come on, you know me. If I was actually going to kill you, I wouldn’t waste time with some melodramatic chat. It was a bluff! And, uh, to be fair, I didn’t come up with this intimidation tactic myself. It’s something I picked up from my family.”

“So,” I began slowly, eyes narrowed to slits, “that claim about killing over a thousand people…?”

“That was obviously a lie, too!” He sounded a little too eager to convince me, a little too desperate, which naturally made me doubt him even more.

“Was it, though?”

Pandemonium is the chosen of the God of War… he must have some kind of requirement to fulfill, right?

The Distorted One demanded ten thousand souls be crushed under the weight of despair. Why would the God of War’s requirements be any less extreme?

At least the Distorted One had a preference for “humans who feel despair while still alive,” so those poor serfs were probably still alive. But Pandemonium…

Is it even possible to wage a war without casualties? Without getting your hands dirty?

Did it not count if he didn’t kill them himself? Or maybe the number wasn’t exactly a thousand? Still, that icy knot of dread in my stomach refused to loosen its grip…

“Honestly. I’ve never killed anyone,” Pandemonium insisted again.

But that unnervingly casual smile—the way it didn’t quite reach his eyes—told a different story.

I hesitated, my voice carefully neutral. “…You’ve never killed an NPC?”

“Well… I’ve destroyed NPC bodies, but does that count as killing? I mean, they’re not people. Either way, it’s not murder, right?”

What the actual hell…?

“Look, whether this place is a simulation or some kind of looped world, whatever, it doesn’t change the fact that if you kill someone here, it doesn’t really count. They’re not actually dead.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Has he completely lost it?

The people here weren’t just hollow constructs or lines of code. They were real people, made of flesh and blood, with lives and fears, and the ability to feel excruciating pain. But for some reason, he thought ending their lives wasn’t actually murder.

Did he develop some kind of mental defense mechanism after killing someone for the first time?

Or was this warped way of thinking hardwired into him the moment he possessed this body?

Whatever the case, one thing was certain… there was something deeply off with his thinking.

“Oh, maybe I didn’t explain it well enough,” he continued, completely missing the horror of what he was saying. “Take the Gray Saintess, for example. Right now, she probably hasn’t made any wishes to the Distorted One yet, yeah? But her soul’s already been taken. That means the NPCs here are just… copies, based on some kind of original.”

“…Copies or not, they still feel pain. They’re afraid to die, just like anyone else.”

“I’m not saying we should go around hurting NPCs for fun,” he added quickly, raising a hand as though to placate me. “But don’t you think there’s a big difference between causing pain and actual murder?” He even made air quotes, like I was the one not getting it.

“What the hell are you even saying?”

“Murder is such a serious crime because you can’t undo it,” Pandemonium began, trying to justify his point. “Even with injuries, the punishment’s worse if it’s permanent. But what if we lived in a world where, say, someone could just grow back a lost eye overnight? Would something like ‘grievous bodily harm’ even be a thing?”

“…So, what you’re saying is, if someone can come back to life, then killing them isn’t really murder?”

“Exactly! You catch on quick, as always.”

What the hell kind of logic is that?

“Are you serious?”

My voice was harsher than I meant it to be, but I didn’t care. I glared at Pandemonium, a look cold enough to freeze lava. For once, his usual cockiness faltered. He looked away, his eyes darting around nervously, and he hesitated before speaking again.

“…Sorry. Was that too ridiculous to say out loud?”

“At least you’re self-aware enough to realize how insane that sounds. If you weren’t, I’d be terrified.”

Pandemonium, shifting awkwardly like he didn’t know where to put his hands, rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re smarter than me, always have been, so I don’t even know why I questioned if you’d understand… And, uh… comparing you to Sukidesu earlier? Now that I know it’s really you hyung, that was uncalled for. I’m really sorry.”

“……”

“Did that really upset you? I know you hate stuff like that. I swear, I didn’t mean anything by it…”

I felt sick to my stomach.

I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. I closed it again, completely at a loss for words.

Unfortunately, Pandemonium, completely shameless, kept going.

“…No, but don’t you think you’re also a little bit responsible? If you had just said something when you realized it was me, I wouldn’t have acted that way.”

Typical. Even when he was apologizing, he had to pull the classic ‘But it’s partly your fault too’ move. Yep, that social awkwardness confirmed it. It was definitely him.

Still…

…Let’s just let it go for now.

It was clear he wasn’t thinking straight. Even if he actually believed what he was saying, he was smart enough to at least pretend otherwise. The fact that he completely missed why I was so shocked suggested this wasn’t just some kind of defense mechanism. It seemed much more likely that his mind had been messed with by an Othergod.

It’d be great if I could fix him with Forced Persuasion.

To do that, I would need to start by influencing him. We had plenty to talk about, so the opportunity would come up eventually. For now, I decided to ask the question that was burning in my mind.

“…What’s this method for reviving NPCs that you mentioned? I thought players could only bring back souls they’d captured.”

Normally, units killed before being converted or corrupted can’t be revived. Their souls immediately return to whatever god they worshipped. It’s the same deal with our own units who get condemned. Once the sentence is passed, their souls are stuck in Order’s Hell, and there’s no getting them back.

Besides, resurrection is ridiculously expensive. It’s almost always cheaper to just summon a new unit than to bring one back from the dead.

…The God of War can only revive those who died fighting for Their side.

Surely, They wouldn’t be able to resurrect someone from the enemy team, right? After all, Roklem is a god who strictly forbids bringing back the dead. He sees it as a major violation of Order and never makes exceptions.

“None of that matters once the game’s over,” Pandemonium pointed out.

“…Did the System tell you that? Or was it the God of War?” I asked.

“Hm? Neither. But look at it this way, when you take out a god, you get all the souls they own. So, if you win the game, wouldn’t you basically own every soul in the Dark Realm?”

Wait, is this bastard serious about actually beating the game?

“I’m planning on reviving any NPCs I killed needlessly,” he continued. “I’ll probably have more points than I know what to do with by the time the ending comes around.”

“…I see.”

“But first, I need to farm a ton of holy relics like crazy. Can’t have all the gods dead and be left with none,” he said, already planning his next move.

“What about the other players?”

“Hm?”

“To actually ‘win’ this game, you’d have to kill all the other players, right?”

“Oh, that?”

Oh, that?

He paused for a moment, then said, “…There’s probably another way to win, too.”

“If you don’t know, just say so.”

“No, it’s just… I’m not entirely sure, either….”

“But it’s probably impossible, right?”

Pandemonium awkwardly looked away and waved his hand.

Telekinesis?

I instinctively took a step back, and Pandemonium quickly explained, “No, no, don’t freak out. It’s just… I got a notification.”

“…A message? Or a quest?” I asked, still on edge.

“It’s nothing important. Don’t worry about it,” he said, waving it off. He scratched the back of his head, then added, “You said you didn’t have a Helper, right? I guess it’s fine if I tell you, then.”

So, it’s something useless to me anyway, huh?

“My Helper said the tutorial is basically an offline mode with a bunch of restrictions. You know about the shop?”

“…Only that you can’t buy anything unless the Helper offers it for sale.”

“Yeah, that’s right. But even that tiny selection is apparently part of the ‘setup.’ They can’t list anything in the shop that wasn’t pre-approved before the game even started.”

“Doesn’t that just make the rich richer and the poor stay poor?”

“They’re not really trying to keep things balanced. Anyway, once the tutorial’s over and you’ve made a contract, you’re supposed to be able to use points to buy anything the system offers.”

Anything?

“Does that mean you could buy something like a ticket back to reality?”

“…An Othergod wouldn’t let you buy something like that, would They?”

Ah.

Of course.

Of course not….

“…So, what are you planning to buy?” I asked.

“Who do you think dragged us here in the first place?”

“…The system?”

“Yeah. And when we get a Game Over, where do you think we end up?”

I hadn’t even thought about it.

Wouldn’t we just… cease to exist?

Even if we’re condemned, it doesn’t feel like we’re going to end up in the Order’s Hell.

“Wherever they are, the system’s gotta know,” Pandemonium said.

“…No way.”

Is he saying… that you could actually buy back players who’ve gotten a Game Over, using points?

“It’s just a theory right now. I’ll have to wait until the tutorial’s over to see if it’s actually doable.”

“Are you planning to bring back the Rider’s player that way?”

“…If it’s possible.” Pandemonium’s answer was surprisingly noncommittal.

What’s going on?

Considering how close he seemed to Reyes, I figured he’d be even closer to the Rider’s player, who he’d known even longer.

…Wasn’t his hatred for Insanity because he trapped and killed Rider?

“Before that, there’s something I need to ask you,” he said suddenly.

The broken thread of my reliquary moved on its own, retying itself into a double fisherman’s knot.

I felt an ominous sense of foreboding.

“So, what’s really going on with your relationship with the Heretic Slayer?”