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

#164Reader Mode

#164

Yeah… Based on his tone, he’s clearly planning to follow my instructions with painful literalness. Doing anything except the exact thing I explicitly forbid.

Of course. He’s a copy of the original bastard, the Research Director, after all.

Wasn’t the Director exactly why they kept adding endless, nitpicky regulations? People like him were the reason warning labels had to spell out that you shouldn’t drink the condensation from your air conditioner.

“So what actually happened at the Council?” I asked.

“The Council? I wasn’t there.”

“Then where were you? What were you doing?”

“Oh, just wandering near the Apostle Hall. Hoping you might get nervous enough to bite your nails or something.”

“……”

“But I do have some insight into what occurred. When all the rituals surrounding the Holy Flesh Repositories merged into one… things got a bit… tangled.”

“Tangled? How?”

“Because in that convergence, we realized something.”

“What?”

“The truth about Ledeia. About the original contract. About what was forgotten and why it had to be forgotten.”

Was this realization the source of the contamination?

“Tell me. What’s Ledeia’s true nature?”

Callister’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite amusement. Something more like pity.

“Ledeia was nothing more than a bug who desperately dreamed of staying human.”

“…A bug?”

In response, Callister opened his hand. A fat maggot lay curled in the center of his palm.

“This insect feeds on the living. It consumes their essence, their memories, their very being. And when it’s gorged itself on everything it can take, it returns to its prey’s family—not as itself, but as a copy of what it devoured.”

He poked the squirming creature with casual indifference. “Instinct drives its actions. Nothing more. Consume. Imitate. Multiply. Spread.”

Is he saying that Ledeia started off as some kind of parasitic insect?

“Imagine a flock of birds. When just one is infected, it copies the others until it fools the rest. Then, one by one, they’re replaced. Until the sky is filled not with birds, but with perfect lies wearing feathers.”

Listening to him, I felt an itchy sensation crawl up my left arm. Without thinking, I clamped down hard on my bicep.

Callister let out a sudden, high-pitched yelp. “Hyat!”

“…What was that?”

“Nothing!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing at all!” Callister insisted, his fingers fidgeting with his cloak. “I was merely startled by the sudden, intense pressure. That’s all.”

“Then why is your face bright red?” I pointed out.

Callister’s hand flew to his cheek, his eyes widening as he felt the warmth radiating from his skin. “Oh! It is warm!” he exclaimed, his tone shifting to analytical curiosity. “I always thought ‘flushing’ was just a figure of speech, but the skin temperature actually increases! That’s fascinating!”

Of course, autonomic nervous system sensitivity would be genetically determined too.

Clearly, the Research Director wasn’t prone to blushing.

“Alright, enough of that—”

“It’s just that Fabio’s body is so… reactive!” Callister interrupted, looking genuinely distressed. “This is mortifying. And the fact that I can’t even hide my embarrassment only makes it worse! I think I’m turning even redder now!” With a dramatic fuss, he slapped his palms over his eyes.

Note to self: Find Colomba ASAP and demand he reset Callister to factory settings. This is getting unbearable.

“Remarkable! The color is so vibrant! A true scarlet hue!”

I recoiled. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Ah, forgive me. I shifted my eyes onto my palms for a brief moment. I wanted to get a better look at my face.”

Callister casually rubbed his empty eye sockets before blinking, his eyes reappearing in their proper place with an unsettling wet sound.

“Fabio? You’ve gone quite pale. Are you alright?”

“…..”

“Fabio?” Callister moved closer, concern in those eyes that had just been in his hands.

“…Just keep talking,” I finally managed, swallowing hard. “We were discussing something important.”

“Oh right! Of course!”

Callister straightened and cleared his throat.

“Ledeia’s origins began not as one, but as many. Picture millions of insects functioning as a swarm. Then one fateful day, something terrible happened. They gained awareness.

“The Swarm awakened to itself, not as separate beings but as one consciousness. And with this awakening came a horrifying truth that shattered their newfound identity. They weren’t the people whose lives they’d stolen, whose personas they’d adopted. They had consumed humans—absorbed their memories, their essence—and learned to mimic them with terrifying precision.”

God, that’s creepy.

“But imitation exacts a cost. The longer they impersonated humans, the more deeply they believed the deception. They clung to this fabricated humanity with desperation, terrified of reverting to what they truly were—a scattered, mindless swarm lacking purpose or identity.

“In their desperation, they turned to Order. The Swarm pleaded, begged, and bargained in their stolen voices: ‘Let us remain human. Let us forget the Swarm, the terrible truth of what we are.’

“And Order accepted. But such mercy demanded sacrifice. They could keep their human shells, their carefully crafted identities—but in exchange, they surrendered their freedom. No longer could they consume indiscriminately. No more devouring at will, no more harvesting memories, no more expanding the collective. The Swarm became Ledeia, eternally bound to Order’s will.”

“And who were they permitted to consume…?”

“Ledeia’s preists.”

“……”

“The severity of infestation varies. Those baptized as children harbor more of the swarm. The later in life it happens, the more original human tissue remains. But when they ascend, when a priest transforms into an Apostle? Nothing remains except borrowed voices animating borrowed flesh. Still preaching. Still healing. But everything human inside has been devoured.”

I tried to process this revelation. “So that’s what happened? Discovering he was just a collective of insects drove the Research Director insane?”

“What? No!”

“…No?”

“When the Director uncovered the truth—that he wasn’t a man at all but merely thousands of insects operating as one consciousness—he wasn’t horrified.” Callister’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “He was absolutely thrilled!”

Crazy bastard. Of course he was.

“He was euphoric! To discover that the human body is merely a vessel! That form itself is nothing but perception. He immediately saw the potential! If he could manipulate that self-perception, even slightly, he could reshape himself into anything, become anyone he desired!”

“If this discovery thrilled him so much, how did he end up contaminated? What broke him?”

“Ah…” Callister’s excitement dimmed, his shoulders dropping slightly. “It was a single, devastating thought. A realization that unraveled everything. If he was fundamentally a swarm-consciousness… what about the others? The copies spread throughout the region? Perhaps there never was a true ‘Callister’ or ‘Colomba’—only a singular entity existing across countless duplicates…”

“And then?”

“The moment that thought took root—” Callister snapped his fingers sharply, the sound cutting through the air, “—all Callisters’ consciousness merged with Colomba. Every mind, every memory, fusing together. But therein lay the catastrophe—the fatal flaw in the Director’s revelation. Some of those Callisters were already contaminated.”

“…Contaminated?”

Callister just stared at me, his expression impossible to read.

“Fabio… do you know Francesco?”

House Lizard?

His name being brought up immediately after “contaminated” didn’t bode well. A connection that couldn’t possibly lead anywhere good.

“Tell me who he is.”

“Francesco is a Watched One, an entity existing outside Order’s influence. Like you, in certain respects.”

“…How, exactly?”

“When he first discovered the Holy Flesh Repositories, his immediate question wasn’t about their spiritual purpose or divine nature. It was about their method for replicating the heads.”

I frowned instantly.

Seeing my reaction, Callister quickly raised his hands. “But Francesco’s eyes were gleaming with fascination! He eagerly proposed creating copies of himself! Completely different motivation from yours. That’s what separates you from him, Fabio. You’re unique. Special!”

Something wasn’t adding up. “Hold on. He volunteered? To replicate himself?”

Just the thought made me feel sick. After hearing the horrifying process, who could possibly, willingly subject themselves to that? What sane person would choose to be cut apart, replaced, transformed into…

“Well, it’s not entirely surprising. Unlike you, Francesco possessed a body compatible with the Blessing of Pain Relief.”

“No.” I shook my head firmly. That couldn’t be the whole story. Pain or no pain, no rational mind would choose to become… that. Carved apart, consumed, converted into a walking hive of insects wearing human skin.

“Anyway,” Callister continued with disturbing nonchalance, “after Francesco created his duplicates, he immersed himself in a series of fascinating experiments. The results astonished everyone! Turns out, Watched Ones possess a remarkable ability to share memories across their copies. This discovery dramatically accelerated our exploration of the Main Building’s lower levels.”

Lower levels of the Main Building… House Lizard had mentioned them before. Some place underground, beyond the System’s reach.

So that’s how he discovered the ultimate answer? Through his self-cloning experiments?

“Before Francesco made his discovery, we never went deeper than the 22nd basement level. And even getting that far…” Callister gave a slow shake of his head. “The cost in Holy Flesh Repositories was steep. We sacrificed so many.”

“Were there traps?” I asked, thinking of how eerily empty the upper floors had felt. What could possibly destroy Callister units that are basically living vessels of the Blessing of Healing?

“Traps…” Callister echoed, weighing the word. “Not quite. It’s more like a cognitive breakdown. Past the 20th level, you forget how to go back up. The very idea of ascending just… vanishes from your mind.”

“What?“

“In the early days of exploring below the 20th floor, our methods were crude.” Callister demonstrated with a sharp yanking motion. “We tied ropes to the Repositories, lowered them down, then hauled them back up. But there was a complication. Whatever exists down there… it scrubbed their consciousness completely. They returned as husks—unable to speak, unable to communicate. Empty vessels.”

Scrubbed their consciousness?

The casual way he described mental obliteration was chilling. How monumentally dangerous was this place? And that Records bastard sent me there without a single warning about any of this? My hands trembled uncontrollably. Fuck, this was terrifying.

“Francesco, however, possessed his Othergod’s blessing. Granted him resistance to Oblivion. Yet even he encountered a barrier. Any duplicate sent below the 24th level simply… vanished. Connection terminated.”

Connection terminated?

Wasn’t that just clinical language for death? Or something infinitely worse? How many times had Francesco dispatched copies downward, knowing they wouldn’t return? Knowing they’d simply… cease to exist? And the duplicates just… complied?

“Eventually, Francesco claimed he’d discovered a solution. He attempted a new approach…”

“…Which was?”

“Well, at that moment, every single ‘Francesco’ descended into madness.” Callister paused, searching for words. “Though perhaps ‘madness’ fails to capture the true nature of their condition. Contaminated. All of them. Simultaneously.”

“Contaminated? What does that even mean?”

“It means the madness spreads. A contagion of consciousness.”

“How?”

“It progresses in stages. A brief interaction with him? Generally harmless. But listen to Francesco long enough to truly comprehend what lies beneath his words… You begin to feel it—a gravitational pull. An irresistible compulsion to keep listening that overrides all else. You become… captive to his voice.”

“…So he just talks? Rambles about something?”

“Incessantly. And he’ll engage with you, respond to your questions. At first, he appears perfectly rational.” Callister’s eyes narrowed to razor-thin slits. “The danger lies in truly listening, in understanding… it invariably fractures your mind. No one ever extracts anything worthwhile before their sanity shatters.”

The ‘Crack’s’ words suddenly resurfaced in my mind, his enigmatic message taking on a darker significance. House Lizard had claimed he could answer anything, even the ultimate questions about existence and the universe.

Could the ‘answer’ itself be the trap? Knowledge so vast, so incomprehensible, that merely grasping it destroys your mind?

“Just ten minutes of active listening is enough,” Callister continued. “Ten minutes before they collapse into total unresponsiveness. Even basic survival instincts—flinching from pain, seeking water—simply vanish. They remain frozen in a catatonic state until their bodies finally die of starvation.

“As for the Holy Flesh Repositories, their bodies break down—collapsing into writhing masses of separate insects. By then, the Holy Flesh itself is contaminated beyond salvation. Its healing properties vanish, replaced by something that will only harm when applied to wounds. The only recourse is purification through fire.”

Complete unresponsiveness… The description hit uncomfortably close to home. Like the “Ultimate HappyHappy” state.

Had the Research Director ever actually encountered Perpetua while she lived?

“So,” I deduced aloud, piecing it together, “this contaminated knowledge… it must have leaked from a Repository that was still partially functional down there?”

“Precisely!” Callister’s eyes widened with delight. “And thanks to you, Fabio, I experienced that frenzy from a safe distance! The ecstasy of comprehending such profound truth! It’s the most intense rapture any consciousness can know! I hazily recall feeling so transcendently euphoric that my mind seemed to melt…”

Callister’s voice drifted away, momentarily lost in the memory’s grip.

“The unified consciousness—Colomba and all the Callisters—became possessed by an overwhelming need to share this bliss, this enlightenment, with every living being.”

Just like roaches rushing poisoned bait back to the nest…

“So the Research Director, intoxicated by his newfound enlightenment, determined that his precious, revered Ledeia deserved this revelation too. He prayed to Her, infecting Her with this truth.”

“That’s completely insane…”

“Indeed. And Ledeia… She embraced it with rapturous abandon. Consumed by the revelation. Her immediate compulsion was to share this ‘gift’—first with Her devoted priests, then through them to every soul ever touched by the Blessing of Healing.”

“Absolutely crazy…”

“And that’s precisely what she did. Transmitted the contamination down through every rank. Had it been possible—had Her mad consciousness found a way—Ledeia would have spread it beyond those bearing the Blessing, beyond Order’s boundaries, reaching even the dead in their graves and souls not yet drawn into existence.”

So Ledeia is completely contaminated? Consumed by this madness?

What kind of apocalyptic poison had House Lizard unleashed? How did he even manage it? And where did he scrape together the resources for something this overpowered?

This is supposed to be the damn Tutorial!

“But I isolated myself,” Callister continued, his voice serene. “I refused to listen, refused to accept their ‘truth.’ Our connection, Fabio… it anchored me, kept me separate from their delirium.” His eyes fixed on mine with unsettling intensity. “I knew that surrendering, allowing myself to merge, would instantly fuse me with them. But I resisted. If we merged, every Callister, the entire Colomba consciousness would instantly know you. See you as their ‘Seventh.’ And I couldn’t bear to share what’s mine. Fabio, all I could think about, all that mattered, was you. And the moment when you finally become my Seventh…”

I barely registered his last words. The magnitude of this catastrophe crashed over me in waves.

“…Fuck. The Dark Realm is doomed.”

T/N: The God of Healing is down? It’s fine. Maybe pain builds character. Maybe bleeding out is a bonding experience...