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

#165Reader Mode

T/N: Thanks Praxis and Anonymous Reader for the coffee! I’ve cast Double Release Lv.2 in response to your offering. May the HappyHappy Cult smile upon you. 1/2

#165

Fuck. None of this made any sense. My thoughts were all over the place, a jumbled mess I couldn’t sort through. I sat down on the bed, pressing my fingers against my head like I could somehow force my brain to work right.

Why would House Lizard pull something like this? What “truth” did he supposedly find that made him go all in now, of all times?

Was he just desperately trying to get points? And even if that was his plan, would the System even count his so-called “truth” as real knowledge? Was he trying to flood the whole Dark Realm with this mind-melting revelation just to rack up points? Or had he been playing some crazy long game that none of us saw coming?

But here’s the thing: according to the System, he got a Game Over.

And those messages not going through? That seemed… final. Can you even score points if you’re not an active player anymore? Nothing added up.

Unless… I felt a chill run down my spine.

Unless the “Game Over” itself was a lie. A move he planned from the beginning.

We’d all figured out the rule, right? Learned it the hard way, through trial and a lot of painful mistakes. You call out a Player’s username, and if no chat pops up, they’re gone. Game Over. Simple. Clear-cut.

At least, that’s what we always thought.

But was it really that foolproof? Always true, no exceptions?

What if there were workarounds? Couldn’t someone just buy a Username Change Ticket from the store? Spend some points to wipe their old name clean? Or maybe the System just glitched sometimes. Maybe the chat window didn’t load if someone was in some dead zone, completely out of the System’s reach.

I couldn’t know for sure, obviously. No way to test it. But it seemed possible. There had to be tons of reasons someone might drop off the chat without actually being dead.

Yet everybody just accepted it. No questions asked. No second thoughts. Just—oh, he’s gone. Game Over. Why? Probably because of that last message he sent. The one hinting he was being hacked. Said Insanity was getting into his system, right before he disappeared.

It’s such an obvious setup when you think about it. Like finding a note saying, “If I go missing, blame this person.” Your brain immediately thinks murder. You’d never really think the person just… walked away on purpose.

…Total cliché in every mystery novel ever, now that I think about it.

Like a killer faking their own death to throw everyone off, only to show up later and start taking people out one by one. Damn. If that’s what House Lizard actually did, then creating that separate info chat—the one Nyapoleon wasn’t in—that wasn’t just being careful. That was step one. The groundwork for the whole plan.

So what if the whole “Oh no, Insanity is hacking me!” drama was just that? A performance?

If that’s what happened, it was genius. Devious, but genius. Because the moment House Lizard “disappeared,” Nyapoleon’s original chat was automatically compromised. And just like that, Nyapoleon and Insanity—two of the biggest threats still in the game—were cut off from everyone else.

But it does more than that, it poisons everything. Suddenly, everyone’s questioning the chat system. Wondering if it’s been hacked. If they can trust any messages. And before you know it, nobody’s sharing info anymore. The less players talk to each other, the harder it is for anyone to compare notes and figure out House Lizard’s lie.

And wasn’t House Lizard the one who pushed for the Council meeting in the first place?

What if, during his research with the Director, he found this “contamination”… and instead of being horrified, he saw a chance? A tool he could use?

“Fabio,” a soft voice called. “Could you look at me, please?”

I looked down and there was Callister. Leaning against my leg. His cheek just casually resting on my thigh, staring up at me with those borrowed eyes.

What the hell?

“Didn’t I just tell you not to touch me without asking first?”

“Pardon?” Callister blinked at me, all innocent-looking. “Touch you? Where, Fabio? My cheek was resting on some wool fabric. Are you wool fabric, Fabio?”

“…Okay, fine. New rule. ‘No touching’ includes my clothes too.”

Callister immediately jumped up and started taking off the cloak I’d given him.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

“You said not to touch your clothes,” he said smoothly, stopping halfway through undressing. “Everything I’m wearing is yours, Fabio. So if the rule is ‘no touching your clothes,’ then obviously I have to take them off. If you tell me to strip, I strip! I’m your ever-obedient Callister, after all.”

“I meant my clothes,” I said, pointing at my chest. “The ones I’m wearing! Don’t touch these clothes!”

He’s totally doing this on purpose.

The smug little smirk curling at the corner of his mouth confirmed it. He knew exactly what he was doing, twisting my words just to mess with me. A headache started building behind my eyes. I rubbed my temples, trying not to groan.

“Look,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose, “I’m trying to figure out something important here. Can you just… sit still? For like, five minutes?”

“But what are you thinking about?” Callister pressed, edging a little closer. “I want to know, too.”

“…It’s nothing solid yet,” I sighed. “Just… theories. Speculation.”

“I still want to hear. Even if it’s just speculation! Tell me.”

“No. Trust me on this. You don’t need to get tangled up in my half-formed guesses. I need you thinking clearly. Seeing things objectively.”

Was House Lizard actually behind this whole mess?

Sitting here, running the same theories over and over wasn’t getting me anywhere. Just wasting time. Too easy to fixate on one person, like blaming Insanity. That’s always the default whenever stuff goes wrong. Focus too much on one suspect, and you miss everything else happening around them.

No. I needed more. Actual evidence. Cold, hard facts.

Which meant… going back out there. Investigating. Walking right into that nightmare all over again.

Well, on the bright side? At least the contaminated aren’t violent. Not some rabid zombie horde trying to eat my face.

Still, seeing people just lying around everywhere, quiet and still… it creeped me out. Really disturbing. But at least they weren’t attacking anyone.

Small blessings. I’d take what I could get.

But I couldn’t let my guard down. House Lizard probably had backup plans, contingencies for unexpected situations. Like someone being immune to mental attacks, for instance.

And now that I thought about it… there could be other players out there. Active. Moving. Unaccounted for.

“Callister.”

“Yes, Fabio?”

“How confident are you in a fight?”

“Very confident!”

“…Really?”

That threw me off. I seriously doubted Holy Flesh Repositories got any combat training after they were made. Did that mean the original—the Research Director—was secretly tougher than he looked? He’d always seemed like the type who never left his lab, bent over microscopes all day, allergic to sunlight and basic human interaction.

“Believe it or not,” Callister said, puffing up proudly, “this Callister has never lost a single fight since he was created!”

“…Have you ever actually been in one?”

“Well… no,” he admitted, looking sheepish.

For fuck’s sake. I should’ve seen that coming.

“Then why would you say you’re confident if you’ve never even fought anyone?”

“Can’t someone just feel confident? Regardless of experience?”

“Haa…”

Unbelievable. This is my only backup? This untrustworthy party member?

Sure, his quick healing was a plus, but when it came down to it, he was just as soft and squishy as me. That cloak I gave him might as well be tissue paper with zero protection. Completely useless in a real fight.

“…Can you turn into someone else? Someone stronger?”

“If I consume a small sample of them, yes,” Callister answered, his eyes lighting up a bit too eagerly.

“……”

“Just a taste, really. Tip of a finger? Hardly anything at all.”

Hearing that, suddenly my mind was at war with itself.

Casimir…

I still couldn’t help her.

The second I shared my blood with her, she’d be trapped in the ritual. Tied to me. Condemned by Order, with no way to claim she didn’t know better. Ignorance itself is a sin, she’d basically said it herself and she’s the damn Knight Commander of the Heretic Inquisition too.

And now he wanted me to let him take a bite out of her?

Part of me was screaming Hell no. Said it was insane. Completely out of the question. But a colder, more practical voice argued back: This isn’t the time for moral debates. You need power.

Casimir’s stats had to be high. Even if Callister was clueless and barely knew which end of a sword to hold, raw power was still raw power. Give him a shield, tell him to just stand there…

No. Even still…

Could I really give that order? Tell him to bite someone—consume a part of them—just to copy their strength? The idea seemed completely messed up.

And Callister… he’d do it. No questions asked. He’d follow any order I gave, even knowing that if we got caught, this kind of ritual—something that goes against Order—would get us both burned alive.

Though let’s be real? He’s probably marked for death anyway.

Once Order is restored, Callister won’t be judged. He’ll be trashed. Disposed of like faulty equipment. Not even worth the trouble of a damnation trial.

So what’s this feeling in my gut, really? Is it actually conscience?

Or am I just being squeamish?

This is the Dark Realm. The same Order that’s totally fine with actual human flesh as offerings. Maybe it’s time I stopped overthinking. Toughen up. Make the practical choice.

…Shit.

What a garbage excuse for reasoning. I don’t even believe in the Church of Order’s laws—never have—so why hide behind their moral code now? That’s not being righteous. That’s being a coward.

Let’s just call it what it is: unethical. Immoral. Plain and simple.

So what?

Since when have morals been my top priority? Casimir won’t have any permanent physical damage, and I’d get a huge tactical advantage. Passing that up, choosing to do nothing, that seems like the bigger mistake.

“Let’s go,” I said, forcing the words out, making my decision final.

“Where we headed, Fabio?”

“To Commander Casimir.”

“Do you know where she is?”

“Are you kidding me? We were just there. She’s literally right outside the window. Did you seriously forget already?”

“She’s right—” I pointed toward the glass, my hand freezing mid-air.

The spot where she’d been kneeling… was empty.

“…What? Where’d she go?”

Did she wake up? Crawl away?

“Callister,” I demanded, turning to him. “Did you see anything? Tell me now.“

“…A strange creature came and dragged Commander Casimir away some time ago,” he said calmly.

What?!

“A creature dragged her away and you didn’t think to mention it?!”

“Because you would’ve chased after it. It’s too dangerous out there. Stay here with me, Fabio. It’s safer.”

“Bullshit!” I snapped, pushing past him. I yanked the door open and ran down the hallway.

No time for doubts, no time for moral hand-wringing now.

Casimir. I’ve gotta find Casimir.

That “strange creature”… had to be a player’s unit. Probably Nyapoleon’s. If he got her biometric data to Mother God and started pumping out copies based on her…

We were done for. Completely, totally screwed.

I had no clue where the armory was, so I grabbed a heavy fire poker from the fireplace instead. Then handed the small hand axe sitting next to it to Callister.

“Ah, this axe…” Callister said softly, sounding weirdly nostalgic. “Brings back memories. Actually, that third time we met, Fabio—”

“Stop. Don’t ever talk about the Main Building basement. Ever.”

“But Fabio, there’s something important I need to—”

“That’s an order. Don’t bring it up. Got it?”

“…Yes, Fabio.”

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves, then stepped all the way out of the Apostle Hall. Just like I’d seen through the window, the area was empty. No movement. No creatures.

Okay. So we weren’t in the middle of a full-on attack. Not yet.

I gripped the poker tighter, the cold metal digging into my palm.

Think like Nyapoleon. If I were him, I wouldn’t waste my best units here.

If this mess wasn’t part of his plan, then his forces wouldn’t be ready. And if it was… if he’d expected everyone to get taken out, why bother fighting us at all? No point in direct combat when everything’s already falling apart.

And even if some of Order’s units were still working, he’d be focused on the Ledeia situation. Not wasting time on stragglers like us.

So, the most likely scenario? Small, quick units sent to grab important targets. Like Casimir. A grab-and-go mission. The problem was… even his weakest units could easily take me down.

I remembered the stats: it took five untrained serfs with cheap spears just to kill a single low-tier creature without anyone dying. Any fewer, and things went bad fast. Injuries. Deaths.

But we’re not going head-to-head, I reminded myself, trying to stay calm. Get Casimir, then bail. That’s it.

When we got to the spot where she’d last been, I knelt down to find only a trail of maggots left behind, their pale bodies wiggling weakly on the cold ground.

“Callister. Can you track her from this?”

“Technically… yes,” he answered, casually crushing several maggots under his boot as they crept toward my knee for a bite. “Holy Flesh leaves a trace we can follow.”

“…Then do it.”

“Fabio…” Callister’s voice dropped, sounding uneasy. “If things turn ugly… would you allow us to retreat?”

I looked at him. “Would you actually stay if I ordered you not to?”

“Absolutely,” he answered right away, his eyes never leaving mine.

…Not sure I believe that.

But he wouldn’t abandon me completely. He couldn’t exist as “Callister” without me anyway.

“…Fine. If we need to run, we do it before they spot us. Tell me the second you see any halos light up.”

“Fabio,” Callister said suddenly, his voice tense.

“What?”

“What if we ran right now?”

“Huh? Why? Who’s coming?” My head whipped around, adrenaline hitting me instantly.

“He’s coming this way!” Callister whispered urgently. “Fast. That halo is incredibly bright!”

Startled, I instinctively ducked behind Callister, my heart racing. “Who is it? Someone from Order? Tell me!”

Wait. Shouldn’t he be hiding behind me?

If an Apostle found us, Callister could be killed on the spot just for existing in this form.

“…It’s Athanas,” Callister whispered, his shoulders rigid with tension.

Athanas?

Relief hit me, then confusion right after. I peered past him into the darkening fog, trying to make out who was coming—still just a shadow in the distance. Too far to confirm by sight.

Why would Callister panic if it was Athanas?

Was he worried Athanas would kill him on the spot?

“You sure it’s him?”

“Yes. I know that halo signature. I’ve seen it before. It’s definitely Athanas.”

“Then why the hell would we run?”

“Well…” Callister shifted uncomfortably, suddenly at a loss for words.

Whatever. No time for this crap.

We needed help.

“Athanas!” I shouted, stepping out from behind Callister.