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

#149Reader Mode

#149

When I blinked awake, the room was bathed in the soft, golden glow of morning light.

What the hell?

Did I really just fall asleep like that?

My headache was gone, and I felt oddly refreshed, which honestly only made me more uneasy. You know those mornings when you wake up feeling suspiciously good? Like, way too well-rested, and then it hits you that your phone’s been dead all night because you forgot to charge it? Cue the mini heart attack as you frantically check the time, already bracing yourself for the barrage of missed calls and “u alive??” texts.

“Are you awake?”

“Athanas…”

Wait, did he sleep here too?

Sure, he’d gotten permission to stay out last night, but what was his excuse for still being here now?

What about his reputation?

People were probably already gossiping that he’d been slacking on his training ever since he got a lover.

Lost in my own head, I barely noticed Athanas setting a tray down on the wooden chest next to me.

Breakfast?

Fresh white bread, a steaming bowl of stew, and bacon so crispy it smelled like pure heaven. The stew’s warmth radiated outward, almost soothing.

I glanced at the single spoon and shot him a questioning look. He met my gaze, calm and steady as always. “Already ate,” he said simply.

Why though?

We could’ve just gone together. Seemed like a pointless hassle.

Still… he went out of his way for me.

“…Thanks.” I mumbled, unsure how to react to being cared for like this. It felt strange, unfamiliar. But even so, I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it. It’s not like I was sick or anything. I could’ve gotten up on my own just fine.

“Did I really not wake up, even when you tried?” I asked.

“I didn’t try to wake you. Figured you’d be up soon anyway, so I brought breakfast just in case.”

I frowned. “Then why didn’t you just wait and go with me…?”

“…It’s hard to have a proper conversation when there are too many eyes and ears around.”

Ah. Right.

This wasn’t exactly the kind of talk we could have without a soundproofing blessing in place. The fact that I was a Watched One, that there were Othergods beyond the starry sky… even the archbishops were in the dark about that. And if word got out to Pandemonium or any of the other players that Athanas and I were spending time together like this…

Damn. I must still be half-asleep to be asking dumb questions like that.

Shoving a spoonful of stew into my mouth, I used the moment to gather my thoughts. How much should I tell him? Where do I even start?

…Everything. Yeah. Keeping Athanas in the dark wasn’t an option anymore.

Taking a deep breath, I decided to lay it all out. First, I explained the chat system. Watched Ones have another name—a username. By calling out that username, you can send a message, almost like a telepathic whisper.

Yesterday, when I’d been fidgeting silently with my fingers, I was actually using that ability to communicate.

Athanas’s brow furrowed as he processed this information. “That ability…” he began slowly, “does it only work between Watched Ones?”

“As far as I know, yes.”

Athanas’s eyes lit up with understanding. “So you could check if one of them is still alive just by calling their username.”

“Exactly.” I nodded. “You can even tell if they’ve truly died or just abandoned their current body.” If someone lost their right to participate in the game, there’d be no notification window, just radio silence.

Athanas went quiet, his expression turning pensive. After a moment, he asked, “How many usernames do you know? Actually, how many Watched Ones are there in total?”

I chose my words carefully. “There are sixteen Othergods and sixteen Watched Ones. Excluding me, the other fifteen already know about each other. But some of those fifteen might be fakes, and there could be others like me who’ve managed to stay hidden. I’ve also heard that a few of them have already lost their qualification.”

So far, I’d only met two—Reyes Floren and Marcello Teres. Both were open to a certain level of cooperation.

Even if they didn’t fully trust Order, they at least recognized the need to keep something far worse in check. And the one player they both feared…

Insanity.

Everything I knew about Insanity amounted to little more than a nickname. I didn’t know his username. Hell, for all I knew, he might not even be real. But Insanity wasn’t the only one I had to worry about.

Athanas’s eyes widened, a hint of caution in his voice. “Bonaparte? Should you really be saying his username out loud like that?”

“It’s not his real username,” I clarified. “More like a code name, a precaution. We use it to avoid accidentally blurting out his actual username.”

I hadn’t told Athanas the real one. There was no reason for him to know it. Like the name of Oblivion, simply knowing it could cause trouble.

Still, I went on to explain what an Othergod’s domain was and the kind of power it granted them. They could manipulate the very blueprint of living beings, reshaping them at their core.

“Bonaparte was someone who even targeted the Order’s Inquisitors… so we need to be careful,” I added.

From what I’d gathered, the Watched Ones weren’t exactly a tight-knit bunch. Especially when it came to Insanity. The distrust toward him was off the charts.

“Despite that, there’s still something they’re cooperating on. And that is—”

Athanas cut me off by shoving a piece of bread into my mouth, effectively muffling my words.

I shot him a look, my eyebrows raised in question.

“…Finish your food before you keep talking,” he said simply.

“Ehh,” I groaned around the bread, my protest muffled.

The bread, stuffed with bacon, was a little too salty for my taste. The stew alone had already left me comfortably full, and by the time I forced down the last bite of bread, I felt uncomfortably stuffed.

Maybe I should’ve just left some.

If this were the modern world, I would have. But after living as a serf, surviving on nothing but turnips, wasting meat felt unthinkable. And besides, ignoring the effort Athanas had put into bringing the meal didn’t sit right with me.

Athanas picked up a cloth soaked in warm water and gently wiped away the bacon grease from the corner of my mouth.

“…I can do that myself, you know,” I muttered, feeling a little self-conscious.

“It’s fine.”

He even wiped the grease off my hands, his movements gentle and careful.

I felt awkward—no, not just awkward, but completely out of my depth.

“…Isn’t this kind of strange?”

“What do you mean?”

I paused, trying to pinpoint why it felt so off.

I opened and closed my hands, the lingering warmth of his touch still faintly tingling.

What was it?

Finally, I found the words.

“Um… It’s strange because you seem way too used to this. I wouldn’t have thought you’d ever done something like this before.”

“…That’s not true. Children training to be knights learn how to serve before they’re taught how to hold a sword. I was no different.”

Oh, he means squires.

So even Holy Knights start as squires, huh?

That made sense. If that was the case, then Athanas being comfortable with this kind of thing wasn’t strange at all.

“I see. But really, you don’t need to do this for me. It’s… kind of uncomfortable, to be honest.”

“…Did I do something wrong?”

Did that come off as a complaint to him?

“No, it’s not that. If anything, the problem’s on my end. I’m just not used to being taken care of like that,” I explained quickly. “So next time, just let me do it myself.”

Athanas just looked at me silently. Then suddenly asked, “When I held you as you slept…”

…Held me?

“Can I ask why you begged me to spare you?”

…Oh. That.

That was because I’d thought Athanas was about to ambush me.

In the game, pressing the attack key while someone’s sleeping triggers a chokehold. But how could I explain that to him? Without the context of the game mechanics, it’d be hard to justify my reaction.

And explaining the game to Athanas…

“…If it’s difficult to answer, I won’t ask again,” he said, folding a clean handkerchief and placing it neatly in front of me.

It’s not even a difficult question.

Was he still dwelling on that?

It really wasn’t a big deal, or at least, it shouldn’t have been.

“…Let’s go back to what I was saying earlier,” I said, eager to steer the conversation away.

“Of course. Please, continue,” he replied, his attention shifting, though his gaze still lingered with a quiet intensity.

“The players are all working together to initiate something called the Council…”

But according to Nasir, Casimir is deliberately allowing it to happen. And Marcello Teres told me that once the Council is over, no one will care about the whereabouts of the ring anymore, so I won’t need to return it.

Which can only mean one thing… something huge is going to go down during this Council meeting.

“…So I was planning to look into it,” I added, my mind racing with possibilities. “Could they be scheming to block the opposition from attending, forcing through some hasty vote?”

Athanas frowned at my suggestion. “That’s not possible.”

“There’s no way they could push something through like that?”

“No, because there’s no need for such tactics. The only purpose of holding votes in the Council is to convince others that there’s a majority who support introducing a new doctrine.”

I paused, puzzled. “To convince who, exactly?”

“The Apostolic Assembly must approve any decisions made by the Council,” Athanas explained patiently. “And the Assembly always sides with the Saint’s proposals. The Saint’s word is considered the will of the god. To oppose that would be to reject one’s identity as an Apostle. So…”

“If the Saint objects to something, it simply won’t pass,” I finished, the pieces clicking into place.

“Correct.”

So much for a separation of powers.

But then again, in a world where deities actually exist, what was the point of dividing power in the first place?

Who would dare impose checks and balances on a god?

No one could stand before the Saint and claim their own words carried divine authority.

“But the Watched Ones must be aware of that,” I said slowly. “That’s what makes this whole situation so suspicious.”

I fell silent, turning over a new thought.

…Could they be certain the Saint wouldn’t oppose their plans?

During the Tutorial Phase, the Apostles’ actions were restricted.

What if those limitations extended to voting as well?

I don’t know exactly how the tutorial’s limitations work.

Of course, I wouldn’t.

The game always began just after the starry sky opened, meaning every player is experiencing the tutorial for the first time.

But if an Othergod… a being with intimate knowledge of the system assured them of a foolproof exploit…

…Does the Saint even realize the restrictions placed on him?

I was curious.

But asking the Saint directly felt… a little terrifying.

Anyway.

If we assume that during the Tutorial Phase, the Saint is forced to approve any doctrine, then what’s the point of exploiting that loophole?

Athanas’s voice pulled me back to the present. “What are you thinking about?”

I hesitated, not sure how to put my thoughts into words. “Well, let’s say the starry sky hasn’t opened yet, and the Four Seasons festival is still going on. There’s a chance the Saint might have to approve any doctrine, even if it’s extremely bizarre.”

“And why is that?”

“…It’s hard to explain. It’s just a theory for now.”

“I still don’t understand. Even if that happened, couldn’t the Saint just call another Council and undo it?”

I nodded slowly. That’s exactly what I had been wondering, too. Why bother changing doctrine for such a short time?

And then it hit me. The kind of plan that only a player would consider.

Leaning in, I lowered my voice. “What if, right after the Council ends, they kill the four Electors?”

The words hung heavy in the air between us. We both knew what that would mean. The Electors weren’t just anyone; they were the leaders of the most powerful noble houses. If multiple lords were assassinated inside the Holy Cathedral itself, it would throw the entire continent into chaos. And chaos, well, that’s exactly what an emerging religious movement would need to take root and grow.

Athanas considered my theory, his brow furrowed. “It’s a reasonable assumption,” he admitted after a moment. “For doctrine to pass, at least half of the seven Electors have to approve it. So if this happened, at least four of them would already have to be under the Watched Ones’ influence.”

That’s a lot.

“Okay, I’ll see what I can find out about which Electors are currently in the Holy Cathedral. I already know of at least two.”

Athanas nodded thoughtfully. “One of them has to be the head of House Teres, right?”

“Yeah, and the head of House Floren is an Elector, too.” My eyes widened as the realization hit me.

Hold on, wasn’t Floren supposed to be some minor, forgettable noble house?

“It’s because the Floren head holds an Elector’s seat as the representative of Egus, the God of Fertility,” Athanas explained, seeing my confusion. “Remember, only nobles can become Electors.”

Huh. That actually makes sense.

In the church of the Order, the gods were split into two distinct categories. The first included the gods who led the Church, like those of the Healing Order and the Fertility Order. Their priests could come from any background, and their Apostles were chosen anew each generation. The Patriarch, the highest religious authority, stood at the top of this hierarchy.

The second category was for gods worshipped by a single noble house for generations. In these cases, the head of the noble house also served as the highest religious leader for that god’s faith. The family’s bloodline was deeply connected to the deity they revered. All gods associated with specific noble houses belonged to this category.

Usually, the gods who led the main religious Orders were the more powerful ones. It made sense—their influence wasn’t limited to a single ethnic group or family line. They belonged to everyone.

A sudden, chilling thought struck me. If Reyes’ mother is an Elector…

Did that mean Sukidesu had agreed to a plan that could lead to his own mother’s death?

Sukidesu had always treated the world as if it were filled with NPCs, yet he’d shown genuine care for his family. He’d even resisted the suicide quest, saying he didn’t want to erase Reyes Floren from existence.

Pandemonium, on the other hand, would fully support eliminating the head of his family. He’d need him gone to take control as the acting head.

A thought struck me. “Does House Floren have an heir?” I asked.

“They do, but she’s still a child. According to Sereno, she turned fourteen this year.”

Fourteen? That’s way too young, I thought, frowning. “So, does that mean she can’t become the head of the family?”

“Age isn’t a barrier,” Athanas explained. “If the heir is too young, a regent would handle most of the duties. But generally, a family head without an adult heir rarely leaves their domain.”

I let that sink in. Which means reconvening the Council would be nearly impossible. No sane successor would willingly step into the same place where their predecessor had been murdered. If it were me, I’d barricade myself in my family’s estate and never leave.

“Is there something about House Floren that concerns you?”

I hesitated for a moment, then held out the ring. “Actually, Reyes gave me this.”

Athanas examined it. “…And what exactly is this?”

I explained that it was a Relic of the Distorted One—a ring capable of warping perception, making others recognize me as Reyes Floren. Sukidesu had asked me to wear it, meet his mother, and prove that “Reyes Floren” was alive and well.

“With this,” I concluded, “I could either meet the head of House Floren to investigate… or even attend the Council directly.”

But there was a catch. A big one. There was a high chance I’d run into Napoleon or Insanity, and they’d know the real Reyes Floren was Sukidesu.

I shook my head, a sudden unease settling over me. “…No, on second thought, it’s better if I don’t use this. It’s too dangerous.”

I had zero intention of putting myself in that kind of risk. If the Council concluded and Reyes’s older brother, Sereno, was still searching for him, then maybe—maybe—I’d use the ring to show my face briefly. But not before then.

Athanas picked up the ring, turning it over in his hands.

I raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in my voice. “…Don’t tell me you’re planning to wear it yourself.”

“I never said that,” he replied calmly. “But I know someone far more suited for it.”

“Someone better?”

“Callister.”

…The Research Director’s clone?

Athanas continued, “The Research Director has been gathering information on the Watched Ones. He’d be willing to lend us as many bodies as we need.”

…As many bodies as we need? The words echoed in my head, making it spin. Was Callister… not even a person? Just a storage unit for spare Holy Flesh?

“Athanas…” I started, wanting to tell him this was a bad idea, but the words caught in my throat.

As I frowned, Athanas reached out, covering my eyes with his hand and guiding me to lay back down. “Before anything else… we’ve talked enough. You should rest for a bit.”

Why?

Didn’t I just wake up? Why did I need to sleep again?

“…Once you wake up, everything will be fine,” he said softly, his breath close. “You said so yourself. That this state only lasts until you fall asleep again.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and I could hear the regret in his voice.

…For what? I wanted to ask, but the words wouldn’t come.

“I promised not to ask anything else about this situation, but…” He trailed off, leaving me with a gnawing sense that something was wrong.

My stomach churned, a discomfort I couldn’t quite name.

Why?

What was strange about this?

And then it hit me.

Ah.

If you lie down right after eating, stomach acid can reflux. That’s why my stomach felt so uneasy. It was completely normal, nothing strange about it at all.

Satisfied with my reasoning, I let myself drift off to sleep, the unease slowly fading away.