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

#163Reader Mode

#163

“…Servants?”

My thoughts froze for a moment. Callister had said it so casually, like it was nothing.

“Well then, shall we get going?” he said, already moving on.

“Hold on… are you saying you’re my servant?” The question sounded ridiculous even as I said it.

“Pardon?” Callister blinked at me, looking genuinely confused. “What exactly are you asking?”

Is this some weird joke?

If he didn’t mean it literally… Servants?

I quickly checked for system messages, but nothing. No notifications, no contracts. I definitely hadn’t unlocked the power to create servants or made a contract with Happy God.

So… figurative, maybe?

Like some kind of loyalty pledge? A ride-or-die, right-hand-man kind of setup? I almost cracked up thinking about it, considering he literally was my left hand. That wasn’t figurative at all.

Callister tilted his head, studying me. “You did it without even realizing, didn’t you?”

“Did what without realizing?”

He gave a slow, knowing nod, his smile curling just a little. “Ah. Then perhaps it’s best left unsaid. Ignorance is bliss, as they say.”

“Enough with the cryptic games. Just tell me already.”

The playful expression vanished from Callister’s face, replaced by a solemn intensity that made the hairs on my arms stand on end. “Are you absolutely sure you want to know? Some actions carry a heavy burden once intent is confirmed.”

I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the growing unease in the pit of my stomach. “Well, if I already did it, what’s done is done, right? I need to know the facts so I can face the consequences or try to make things right.”

“‘Make things right,’ you say?” Callister mused, something dark flickering behind his eyes. He glanced around, ensuring no one was around before locking eyes with me once more. “Tell me, Fabio, have you ever heard of the old law? The one that forbids granting blessings to anything that exists outside the boundaries of Order?”

“Old law? As in, no longer relevant?”

“Indeed. Back when worshippers of… less savory deities were more common, it led to quite a few complications. In fact, I remember a particular case where a priest dragged before the court simply for healing an injured child deemed a heretic.”

That seems incredibly stupid and backwards.

Banning blessings for outsiders makes no strategic sense. Isn’t that exactly how you convert people? Show them what they’re missing? You can perform miracles for your faithful all day long, but letting a non-believer experience that power firsthand? Now that’s how you truly change hearts and minds.

And think about the fallout. What happens when that person goes back home?

They’re no longer martyrs who suffered for their beliefs, celebrated with parades and songs. Instead, they come back comfortable, maybe even healed by the very hands of the “enemy.”

Whispers would follow their every step, suspicion clouding the eyes of people they once called friends.

Even better if their own community starts seeing them as corrupted, tainted by the enemy’s influence. The “true believers” who actually suffered for their faith would burn with resentment, feeling cheated when they look at the “blessed” returnee. And those already questioning their beliefs? Watching their community turn on one of their own… that would shatter any remaining loyalty, fracturing everything like a hammer to glass.

And what if the opposite happens? If the community welcomes the ‘blessed returnee’ instead?

Then you’ve planted a perfect seed. Someone positioned to whisper about the new faith from the inside, their words slowly taking root in the hearts of the unsuspecting.

It’s like dealing with a cockroach infestation. You don’t eliminate roaches by burning them one by one; you give them poisoned bait they’ll carry back to the nest, contaminating all the others.

…That analogy doesn’t exactly feel appropriate for people.

Anyway. Order actually made it a sin to bless heretics?

“And then what happened to the priest?” I asked.

“He could have been pardoned if he’d shown sincere remorse and corrected his mistake. Had he simply withdrawn the blessing before judgment was passed, as commanded, he likely would have been forgiven.”

“…I’m guessing he didn’t do that?”

“You are correct. He openly defied the order to withdraw the blessing. In the end, the sentence handed down was to burn at the stake for defying the judgment of the Enforcer of Order.”

Burn at the stake?

I couldn’t hide my disgust. Burned alive for healing a child? Someone gets sentenced to forced labor for decapitating their lover, but a priest gets the flames for an act of compassion? I get that defying authority was a grave offense within the Order, but…

Couldn’t the Enforcer have shown some goddamn compassion?

“What about a workaround? Couldn’t he have temporarily withdrawn the blessing to satisfy the judgment, then baptized the child and reapplied it afterward?”

“That was not possible. The blessing wasn’t placed on a limb or organ. It was bestowed directly upon the child’s heart.”

Oh. Which means withdrawing it would have killed the kid instantly.

Damn. Was this Enforcer completely insane? They basically ordered the priest to murder a child with his own hands. What kind of twisted mind issues that kind of command?

“So that’s why they changed the law?”

“Exactly. A cardinal who was close to the priest pushed hard for the reform.”

Someone close to the priest played a role in changing the law… Could this be Antonio’s backstory?

There couldn’t be many archbishops with enough clout to alter major Order doctrine. Was Antonio already a cardinal back then?

“But that’s not the point.” Callister dismissed the tangent with a wave.

“What is, then?”

“The point,” Callister emphasized, “is that forgiveness comes when you fix your mistakes immediately after realizing them. If I were to tell you right now exactly what you’ve done wrong, you’d need to address it right away. However…”

He trailed off, then abruptly wrapped his arms around himself, giving an exaggerated shiver. “Brr! It’s freezing out here. Let’s continue this inside, okay? Before my fingers start turning blue.”

“…Sure.”

He hadn’t explicitly spelled it out, but his message was crystal clear. If I tell you, you’ll have to act immediately… so he’s deliberately not telling me. Callister was offering me an out. Plausible deniability. In his own twisted way, he was warning me to stay ignorant.

Ignorance might not be a sin, but knowing you messed up and deliberately doing nothing? That definitely crossed a line. My clumsy attempt to help him probably triggered some kind of sacred ritual I had absolutely no right to perform.

Conducting religious ceremonies without authorization wasn’t just breaking rules; it was major blasphemy.

Wait though. Doesn’t blasphemy require actually serving a god? I don’t.

The most crucial element was completely absent. How could it count as a sacred rite if there was nothing sacred about me to begin with?

“Fabio,” Callister broke into my thoughts once we were back inside, tugging at the cloak I’d loaned him. “This thing is too short. Don’t you have anything that fits better?”

“Just wear what you got and stop complaining.”

“Fine. But do you have something to tie this hair back with? A string or something?”

“…Check that pouch over there. Should be some thread bracelets. Use the white one.”

“Does it have to be white?” Callister peered at the options. “I rather like this greenish mottled one.”

“You can’t have that one. It was a gift.” From a group of kids who had painstakingly crushed leaves with their tiny hands to dye those threads.

“What about the white one?”

“Made it myself.”

“Oh!” His face lit up instantly. “Then the white one is perfect! Absolutely perfect.”

I watched him struggle with it. …He’s hopeless at tying his hair back.

For a second, I almost reached over to help fix the mess he was making… then remembered what that flowing “hair” actually was. Maggots. Right. No way in hell was I touching that.

“…Hey.”

“Yes, Fabio?”

“Just so you know,” I said casually, watching him closely, “when I die, I’m not planning to end up in the Realm of Order.”

Callister froze, looking suddenly small in his borrowed clothes.

Interesting. So he can panic.

His eyes darted around frantically before landing back on me, wide and searching. Carefully, he asked, “Then… does Fabio serve an Othergod?”

“What if I do?”

“Well! Then naturally, I’ll serve too! From this moment forward! Because I’m your Callister, Fabio. Your master is my master! Always! May I… perhaps know this deity’s name?”

“…Shouldn’t you be running off to report me first? Raising the alarm about the dangerous heretic you found?”

“What?” Callister looked shocked. “Report you? Why would I ever? Fabio, you are my anchor, my everything!”

Bullshit.

If he really felt that way, he wouldn’t have tried to steal my shoes and underwear in the dead of winter. This guy was just a caterpillar, gnawing on the very branch that kept him alive.

Still, it’s obvious his loyalty to Order is paper-thin at best.

“…Relax. I’m not serving any Othergod. If I had to pick something, I guess I believe in Order right now.”

Callister blinked, confusion replacing panic. “But… you just said you don’t want to go to the Lord’s Realm?”

“Correct. I only plan on believing in Order while I’m still alive.”

“Then…” Callister tilted his head again, genuinely perplexed. “Where do you intend to go after death, Fabio?”

“Nowhere. I’ll just stop existing.”

Callister stared at me, his expression completely blank, like he couldn’t understand the concept.

“But that’s…”

“Anyway,” I cut him off, “my point is, I’m not particularly afraid of any divine judgment. Whatever hell might or might not exist after I die? Not my problem.”

It was something I’d never say a word of to Athanas, who lived and died by his faith. But Callister could handle it.

“So I’m fine hearing about it,” I started, then caught myself. “No, that’s not right. I need to know. Just tell me straight. Consider it a direct order if that helps. Explain exactly what I did.”

I needed facts. Needed to understand the real consequences before making another move. Everything depended on whether I could risk helping Casimir, or anyone else connected to Order.

If using my goblin blood as medicine automatically condemned them in Order’s eyes, permanently locked them out of the Realm of Order…

Then I could only risk helping outcasts like Andrea, a servant of the Distorted One, or other players who had zero shot at Order’s heaven anyway.

“…When a being touched by the divine shares their blood, their actual flesh,” Callister explained, “it’s the most ancient ritual there is. It represents the bestowal of authority, the creation of a new priest under their banner. You could call it the original, purest form of holy communion.”

“That’s… completely new information to me,” I admitted.

“The truly ancient gods, the savage ones, took it quite literally. They’d actually feed their flesh and blood to their chosen followers.”

“Ancient gods?”

“Yes. The Forgotten Ones. Those who faded when their power dwindled, or when they became obsolete.”

So even gods die if they can’t keep up with the competition.

I’d suspected something like that. Those “Ownerless Blessings” you occasionally ran into throughout the game… They had to be leftovers from extinct or forgotten deities. Old power lingering in relics, waiting for someone to stumble across them.

It was funny, really. In most games, slapping “Ancient” or “Primordial” on an item meant it was god-tier, top-shelf loot. But in Conclude? Ancient relics were basically trash. You’d get some minor buff– slightly faster movement speed, marginally tougher skin. Things that might actually be useful if they affected your entire army or had some clever synergy, but since they only applied to the single unit holding the relic? Practically worthless. Most players just scrapped them immediately for resource points.

So… I started connecting the dots. Back then… maybe the bar for godhood was just way lower? Maybe even basic miracles were enough to convince people?

“In those early days, gods often did take physical form. More accurately, it was an era where performing miracles – even relatively basic ones by today’s standards – was enough for people to worship you as a deity. And through that worship, you could actually achieve godhood.”

“Never heard that before either.”

“Well, the Church of Order doesn’t exactly advertise this information. In fact, this information is banned.” Callister chuckled dryly. “This is the kind of history someone like you, Fabio – without the proper academic credentials – isn’t supposed to know. Information like how humans could become gods just by pulling off a few ‘miracles.’ Or the real origin of calling Apostles ‘Vessels of God’, which comes from an era when gods literally sought out bodies to possess. Or even how many figures celebrated in scripture as divine aspects were actually separate, older deities who got absorbed, consumed by the gods people worship today. Those truths? They’re locked away, hidden in forbidden texts.”

“…Consumed. You’re speaking metaphorically, right?” I asked, hoping to hell he was.

“The oldest accounts talk about gods literally ripping each other apart, devouring entrails,” Callister said with disturbing casualness. “How much truth is in those stories… who can say? Even Lady Ledeia’s memories from that era are fragmented, unclear.

“But historical records do document what they called ‘God-Devouring’… it was a ritual. A ritual of utter annihilation. When one god sought to completely erase another. If the defeated god had followers, the victors would unearth their graves, desecrate them, offer the very bones on their own altars. Sacred relics, holy symbols, anything touched by the enemy god’s power, even the remains of followers– all collected, destroyed, presented as trophies. Every trace wiped from existence. Then, they’d rewrite history, revise scripture, claiming these two gods had always been one entity. They’d portray the old worshippers as misguided fools who only knew a lesser aspect, while their followers were the enlightened ones, the true believers. That’s the version of history that survived.”

“So… what exactly are you saying?”

“I’m saying, Fabio,” Callister’s eyes bored into mine, “what you just did with me? That was that ancient ritual. And since you don’t claim to serve any other deity… you’ve literally just become my god.”

“…Is there any way to undo this? Some kind of cancellation process?”

I had zero interest in starting some weird cult with myself as the pseudo-god figurehead. That was beyond insane. Besides, what was the point? Worshipping an Othergod might actually grant power or blessings. Worshipping me? Completely useless.

“No. There’s no going back. It’s done. Fabio, regardless of what anyone says, I will worship you as my god.“

“Even if I directly order you not to?”

“Naturally.”

What part of that is natural?!

“If you ‘worship me’, shouldn’t you follow my commands?” I argued, trying to find some reasoning in this madness.

“Fabio, I will obey every word you speak. Except for one. I cannot follow an order not to worship you.”

“…And what happens when Order discovers this? When they brand us both heretics and drag us to a pyre?”

“Haha, then we simply ensure that never happens.” Callister reached toward me with a wide smile, his hand gently cupping my face.

“Fabio. Didn’t I make this clear? Everything you’ve shared? It belongs only to me now. The blood you gave me is mine alone. I have no intention of telling anyone else, risking having it taken away. If you order me to die, I’ll make sure my end is so complete that not even ashes remain for anyone else to claim. No one will ever discover you made me your servant. It’s not documented anywhere. Even the deepest, most mad Records won’t know. Forever, Fabio, until the universe collapses, it can be our secret. Just say the word, and I’ll disappear like I never existed. Then only you, you alone, will ever know that I was your Callister… yours and no one else’s…”

When he leaned closer, I quickly slapped my hand over his mouth, stopping him cold.

“Enough! I get it, so stop crowding me. Didn’t you just promise to do whatever I tell you? Don’t touch me without permission.”

Callister’s eyes crinkled with delight.

Suddenly, I felt a sharp sting inside my eye and squeezed it shut.

Did something just get in my eye?

The moment I tried to rub it with my free hand, Callister let out a soft laugh.

The hand that had been on my face dropped away.

“Understood. I’ll avoid ‘touching’ you. See, Fabio? I’m your very obedient Callister.”