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

#151Reader Mode

#151

I felt a twinge of guilt as I lied. “…Just thinking how unsettling it is not knowing who might be a Watched One.”

The possibility that Nyapoleon or Insanity could be wandering the Cathedral halls right now was concerning. But even if I came face-to-face with them, there wouldn’t be some convenient glowing [Player] label floating above their heads.

Of course, they wouldn’t recognize me either.

But those two would definitely recognize Athanas.

“You should be careful too,” I warned him. “Watched Ones might come looking for you specifically.”

Athanas nodded. “In that case, we should avoid meeting in person for now. We need another way to communicate.”

That was a problem because we had no solid alternative.

I wished I could just send chat messages to Athanas like in a normal game.

“Until we figure something better out,” he said, “let’s relay messages through Callister.”

…Why?

Actually, it’s not a bad plan.

If someone was monitoring Athanas 24/7, contacting him without exposing my identity would be nearly impossible. A letter? They’d track the recipient. A coded message left somewhere? They’d stake out the spot and wait to see who grabbed it.

But the Callisters? There were just too damn many of them.

A swarm of identical Callisters buzzed in and out of the lab every single day.

Trying to figure out which Callister met with Athanas and where that intel went would be like finding a specific grain of sand on a beach.

Callisters answered to Colomba, the Research Director and Ledeia’s Apostle. Not even players like Insanity or Nyapoleon could track all of Callisters’ movements.

The only downside was this revealed Athanas had connections to the Research Director…

…Hold on. Why does Athanas even trust Callister?

That Research Director is sketchy as hell. I literally lost an arm because of that bastard.

So why…

“I left without warning this time, so I won’t be able to slip away again for a while,” Athanas said, then leaned in and pressed a light kiss to my forehead.

“A-Athanas?”

What the hell?

Athanas smiled gently. “But I’ll come see you if I can.”

My heart pounded in my chest, practically trying to break free from my ribcage. With Athanas still caressing my cheek, he could probably feel my pulse going haywire under my skin.

…Is he doing this on purpose?

Trying to shock me into looking like some flustered lover?

In front of Callister, of all people?

Seriously?

“Until then… please take care of yourself.”

With those parting words, Athanas stepped out of the room, Chorister trailing close behind.

…If you were going to sneak out without permission, you could’ve just left while I was knocked out instead of waking everyone up.

Just as I was about to rub my forehead where his lips had touched, I remembered that Grister was still lurking in the room.

“Is there something else you need?”

“Yes, actually. A very important matter.”

Grister grabbed my left hand without warning. A cold jolt shot down my spine like ice water.

“Fabio, may I ask why you keep hurting yourself?”

Well…

Because it’s f*cking disgusting, that’s why.

It looks like an arm. Moves like an arm. But in reality? It’s just a disgusting mass of writhing maggots—maggots masquerading as bone, maggots pretending to be muscle, maggots playing dress-up as skin.

Every time I remember what’s really under there, my entire body feels contaminated all over again.

“…I won’t do it anymore, so don’t worry about it.” I muttered.

“How could I not be concerned? I can feel it too, you know. Do you… perhaps, enjoy it?”

F*cking bastard.

My face twisted with disgust.

“When I remember getting my arm hacked off without anesthesia, I can’t help but claw at it. It was kind of traumatic for me.”

“Ah, right. My apologies. I didn’t anticipate the Blessing of Pain Relief would fail.”

“…You said this was the sixth time you’ve seen me.”

That meant this bastard was the one who’d chopped off my arm with an axe.

And probably the one who used the Blessing of Healing afterward.

Otherwise, I would’ve bled out on those stairs.

But something else was bothering me even more.

“…Why are you keeping track of our meetings?”

All Callisters were supposedly the same entity. So why would it matter that this specific Callister had met me six times?

It’d be like if a spatula at a bakery shop suddenly told a customer, “Hey, this is the third time you’ve picked me up!” Because obviously the customer isn’t choosing that particular spatula—they’re just grabbing whatever’s closest.

Grister tilted his head, his expression still unsettlingly cheerful.

“Because I’m happy to see you?”

I narrowed my eyes. “The way you’re acting, it’s like you’re desperate for me to recognize you. As if you’re afraid I’ll confuse you with another Callister…”

From the earlier conversation between Grister and Chorister, it was clear the Callisters weren’t some unified hive mind sharing a single consciousness and experiences.

No, I’d suspected that even before.

This Callister was the only one who lit up with genuine joy at seeing me.

“That’s utterly impossible. All Callisters are one and the same,” he replied with a smile.

But the corners of his lips trembled slightly.

I leaned in, locking eyes with him. “Do you really, truly believe that deep down? That you’re exactly the same as every other Callister out there?”

“My, such blasphemous words!” He dramatically clutched his chest, looking shocked. “Are you implying the Apostle of Healing has the power to create new life and souls?”

So that’s why Colomba refuses to give them individual names.

The Research Director—who named his damn axe and even my severed arm—wouldn’t assign separate names to these Holy Flesh vessels despite their obvious self-awareness.

Because in this world, the sacred privilege of bestowing a name upon a being with a soul was a right reserved exclusively for the gods.

Each Callister had only ever received one name in their existence—the ceremonial baptismal name given before the elevation to Apostle status.

And so, they were all forced to remain forever bound to the name “Callister,” stripped of any individual identity.

“If that’s how it is, then never mention the number of our meetings again,” I said flatly.

The cheerful smile instantly disappeared from Callister’s face, replaced by a flash of distress and confusion. “…Did my friendly greeting offend you that badly?” he asked quietly, his smile no longer reaching his eyes.

“Yes. It was very uncomfortable.”

“Oh dear, I just wanted to show how happy I was to see you again…”

I shook my head. “Let me be perfectly clear. If someday, the Callister assigned to me doesn’t casually say ‘Great to see you’… I’ll know immediately, without any doubt.”

“Know what exactly…?”

“That the Callister who carefully counted all our previous meetings—the one I actually knew—is gone. Dead.”

At my blunt statement, Callister suddenly burst into an exaggerated fit of forced, almost manic laughter. “Hahahaha! Oh, what an utterly absurd notion!” He grabbed his stomach, doubling over. “Callister dying? Impossible! Callister was never truly born to begin with, you see.”

He was right, of course. Never born, so they were denied even the basic human dignity of individual names. If any of these Holy Flesh vessels ever dared to claim an identity beyond simply being ‘Callister’… they’d be labeled an abomination. A blasphemous existence violating the sacred boundaries of Order.

Just like me.

I sighed heavily, running a hand through my hair. “You’re not wrong. But to me, it will still feel like the Callister I knew died and disappeared forever. The person standing before me might have an identical face and answer to the same name… but I’ll know. Deep down I’ll know he’s a completely different person from the one I’d come to know.”

“That’s…”

“So if you truly don’t want me to see you as someone special or unique… then never greet me with such familiarity again. Please.”

Callister went quiet for a long moment until he finally spoke.

“I…I understand. You have my word, I won’t address you with such familiarity again…”

I tilted my head, studying him carefully. “But if you genuinely do want me to see you as someone unique and special…”

Reaching out, I grabbed Callister’s hand, feeling the warmth of his skin against my fingertips. Despite his deathly pale complexion, I could feel a faint pulse beating beneath the surface. Whether it was actual blood or maggots flowing through his veins, one thing was undeniable… he was unquestionably alive.

“The next time you see me, greet me by saying it’s the seventh time you’ve seen me.”

Callister stayed silent, but his silence told me everything I needed to know.

[SYSTEM: ‘Holy Flesh Container Callister’ was deeply moved by your words!]

Thought so.

[SYSTEM: Achievement update! A new chapter has been added to ‘Miracle of the Silver Tongue.’]

[SYSTEM: Your rank has increased slightly.]

This guy was a separate unit.

A unique existence, fundamentally different from all other Callisters. And beneath his carefully maintained cheerfulness, he desperately wanted someone to recognize him as an individual.

“Ahh…”

…Did I just awaken something I shouldn’t have?

Grister’s gaze had taken on a slightly unfocused quality as he stared at me, and an uneasy feeling settled in my stomach.

Was it actually wise to make him confront a desire he’d been suppressing all this time?

This could easily send him spiraling into some weird, dangerous territory.

And if he later blames me, claiming I’m responsible for his unhinged transformation, I’ll be f*cking pissed.

Because honestly, how would any of this be my fault?

Even without my interference, he would’ve eventually discovered his own uniqueness. Yet somehow these lunatics always end up making me their scapegoat.

Just like that bastard Nyapoleon…

If this guy also names me in his villain origin story after losing his mind, I’m completely screwed.

…Casimir’s advice hits differently now.

She told me I’d be better off cutting out my own tongue.

And right now, I can’t help but think she genuinely had my best interests at heart. Because in this place, a few thoughtless words can absolutely destroy your life.

“Haha… ahahahahahahahahaha…” Grister’s disturbing laughter filled the room, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

Has he completely lost it?

As I watched him laugh maniacally, his eyes empty and unfocused, my anxiety skyrocketed.

Was the realization that he wanted to be recognized as an individual really that earth-shattering?

What if he spread this realization to the other Callisters?

And what if, one by one, more “defective” Callisters began prioritizing their own survival over the Research Director’s orders?

He won’t hesitate to eliminate them without mercy.

A cell that stops working for the collective good of the body and instead exists only for itself has a name: cancer. And there’s only one reliable way to deal with cancer… cut it out before it spreads.

The ideal solution would be to give each Callister a unique name and force the Research Director to stop creating new Holy Flesh containers altogether…

But it’s not like I can baptize them myself.

“Callister.”

His laughter suddenly stopped, a flash of awareness returning to his eyes. “Yes, Fabio?”

“I can’t give you a name.”

“Haha, of course not, Fabio. You’re not a god.”

“You are Callister.”

“Yes, that’s right. I am Callister.”

“And you’re the only Callister I can tell apart from the others.”

The message was clear: So don’t use my words to radicalize the others.

“Even if other Callisters start copying you, keeping count of our meetings, you will always be the only one I truly recognize.”

“Ah…” Grister exhaled softly. Whether from disappointment or relief, I couldn’t tell.

I continued.

“Let’s keep this little realization between us, okay?”

“I understand, Fabio.”

“And when the others are around, don’t greet me in any special way.”

“…Should I stop my friendly waving as well?”

“Waving is fine. Actually, if I write something on my palm, wave at me then. That way I’ll know it’s you.”

Since he’s been influenced to have this epiphany because of me, I can use Forced Persuasion now.

By setting some basic guidelines, I hoped to keep him from accidentally drawing unwanted attention to himself.

“And also—”

Bang, bang!

[Fabio. Are you in there?]

Someone pounded on the door.

My heart nearly stopped.

Adna?

What the hell was Adna doing here?

No time to figure it out. I looked frantically between Callister, his hand still holding mine, and the door that could burst open any second.

The only possible hiding spot was inside the chest, but…

…No way anyone’s fitting in there without breaking something.

I mean, if Grister dislocated every joint in his body, he might squeeze inside, but that seemed excessive. Besides, which looks more suspicious: someone standing normally in a room or someone stuffed awkwardly into a chest?

With no time to waste, I made a split-second decision and spun to face Grister.

“Callister, listen carefully. We first met in the library and occasionally meet to discuss academic topics. Today was just another casual, meaningless conversation. Got it?”

A playful smile appeared at the corners of his mouth. “Haha, so you’re asking me to commit perjury to the Fifth Apostle of Order? How delightfully scandalous!”

My eyes widened in alarm. “What? No, that’s not what I meant at all—”

“I’m joking. That’s simple enough to do. After all, I am Callister. If someone counted every small sin committed under that name, I’d already be damned to endure tens of thousands of years in hell.”

Without warning, Grister lifted my left hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against my skin. The unexpected gesture caught me completely off guard.

…But isn’t this basically just him kissing his own hand?

“Fabio, I promise you,” he said softly. “I will never betray your trust. The words we’ve shared, the revelation I’ve experienced—they belong to me and me alone. Not a word will ever reach another living soul.”

“Callister…”

“Yes, I am Callister. Your Callister.”

“…Look, please let go of my hand now. I need to open that door before it gets kicked down.”