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

#166Reader Mode

T/N: 2/2

#166

I carefully set the poker down, letting the metal softly clink against the ground. Then I raised my hands, palms forward, making sure they were clearly visible.

Okay, let’s shelve Callister’s bizarre behavior for now. We’ve got a more pressing problem.

Priority number one: Convince Athanas not to kill us on sight.

Just imagine what he’s seeing: a Watched One casually strolling through this chaotic landscape without so much as a scratch. It practically screams “guilty as charged.” The moment Athanas lays eyes on me, then sees Callister as my freaky doppelganger, his first assumption wouldn’t be friendly. Far from it. He’ll leap straight to the conclusion that I’m in cahoots with whatever the hell caused this mess.

I’m harmless. I don’t know anything.

I tried to project innocence with my body language, shoulders relaxed, breathing even. But standing next to Callister, who radiated “Violation of Order” energy, I didn’t like my chances. Athanas wasn’t exactly renowned for his deliberation or mercy. This was the same man who’d shot a bolt at Reyes’s skull without saying a single word. There’s no doubt in my mind he’d attack Callister on sight and maybe get around to asking a few half-hearted questions later. If ever.

Neutralize the threat, lock down the scene… textbook FM protocol.¹T/N: I think I’ve explained this before but “FM procedure” refers to “Field Manual procedure” or “Field Manual standard”—a shorthand commonly used in military, tactical, or role-based game settings to describe standard operating protocol. The manual says to neutralize unknown or potentially hostile entities first, then ask questions once the threat is contained.

In all fairness, Athanas wouldn’t be technically wrong to follow procedure. But with players already tearing this place apart, a little friendly fire sparked by a stubborn devotion to the almighty Doctrine was the last thing we needed.

“Callister,” I said, keeping my voice low but firm as I stared at the approaching figure, not daring to look back. “Put the axe down. Get your hands up like mine. And don’t even think about moving. I mean it. Whatever happens next, you stay exactly where you are. Clear?”

I started forward, each step careful and measured. The figure grew more distinct with every passing second. A cold trickle of sweat ran down my neck, sending a shiver through my entire body.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Maybe it was just nerves, or the gloomy weather playing tricks on me… but for one heart-stopping moment, Athanas’s silhouette seemed to waver, momentarily replaced by the horrifying visage of the Heretic Slayer.

He wouldn’t just attack me. Would he?

Unless… what if Callister was right to worry? What if something had gotten to Athanas, scrambled his mind, turned him into another puppet of the Master of Nightmares? My mind raced down one dark path after another, each thought worse than the last.

Why would his halo be visible right now?

That brilliant light only showed up when he was actively channeling divine power. Was he using it to shield his mind? Was it draining him? Or was he…

…Charging up for a ranged attack?

I couldn’t let him see even a hint of fear on my face. One suspicious look and I might as well paint “GUILTY” across my forehead in glowing letters. Running wasn’t an option either. Like showing your back to a wolf, it would practically guarantee an attack.

“Athanas! It’s me! Fabio! You’re safe!”

I called out just loud enough to cut through the unsettling quiet as I closed the gap between us. Near enough now that he could easily make out my face in the gloom. But Athanas didn’t say a word back. He just lifted a finger to his lips. Shhh.

Keep quiet?

Got it. Message received. He recognized me, and he was warning me to stay silent. Smart move. Probably best not to attract any unwanted attention out here. But as he got closer, something else hit me… the smell. Heavy, metallic. Blood. The scent grew stronger with each step he took toward me.

My throat tightened as I swallowed hard.

What the hell went down out here while I was inside…?

“Athanas…” I said quietly as he stopped right in front of me.

With movements that seemed deliberately slow, almost unnervingly fluid, Athanas slid his sword back into its sheath at his hip. The soft shink of metal against leather cut through the heavy silence.

I quickly looked him over.

No crossbow. That’s something, at least.

So Athanas wasn’t setting up for a point-blank execution. But those bandages… there were so many of them, bright white against his dark armor.

Fresh injuries? From cutting out the contamination?

“Athanas, what’s going on—”

I didn’t even get to finish. He yanked me into a bone-crushing hug against his armor that felt less like comfort and more like containment. The air shot out of my lungs with a sharp gasp. My heart rate skyrocketed.

Shit! Is he attacking me?!

“Ath-Athanas?” I wheezed, trying to squirm free from his grip.

“…Are you hurt?” His voice was rough and urgent, but I couldn’t hear the hostility I’d been dreading, just fierce concern. Relief washed over me so suddenly that my legs nearly gave out. I sagged against him for a second, just trying to breathe.

And here I thought he was trying to squeeze me to death.

The sheer force of his hug had triggered a stupid, panicked thought: In Heretic Slayer, there’s this unarmed special move called “Crushing Embrace” where you literally hug an enemy to death against your armor. You keep squeezing until their ribs puncture their own lungs and heart, making blood spray everywhere…

Idiot. Stop thinking about the game.

“Athanas, hold on, I need to explain about Callister—” I started, hoping to get ahead of the questions I knew were coming.

He finally released me from the death grip, but his hands immediately locked onto my shoulders, fingers digging in like vises. His dark blue eyes bored into mine, intense and accusing.

“…Why do you always have to be so damn reckless?”

“Athanas?” I couldn’t help flinching at the anger in his voice.

“What were you thinking,” he continued, his grip tightening until it hurt, “why would you ever—?”

I watched his jaw clench so hard I thought his teeth might crack. I had no idea what exactly I’d done to push him over the edge, but his anger was almost a physical thing between us. A spark of real fear flickered in my chest.

“Athanas, I messed up,” I blurted out, cutting him off.

Just apologize now. Figure out the details later.

“…And what exactly do you think you did wrong?”

“All of it,” I said quickly, desperate to calm him down. “Acting without thinking. Being completely reckless.”

Athanas’s forehead creased, the anger briefly replaced by confusion.

“I didn’t know,” I pushed on, seeing my chance. “I swear on my life, I had no clue what it meant to share blood, share flesh like that. If I’d known it went against Order’s Doctrine, I never would’ve done it.”

He just stared at me, his eyes searching mine for any trace of a lie.

“Look, Athanas,” I pleaded, trying something else. “I know you’re a Sword sworn to uphold Order. I get that you can’t just ignore sin when you see it. But right now? Shouldn’t getting this whole mess under control be the top priority? Just… let the Callister thing slide, at least until we deal with this chaos. After that, I promise you, I’ll take care of it myself. Please…”

“…And exactly how do you plan to ‘take care of it’?”

“Huh?”

My mind went totally blank for a second. Deal with Callister? How the hell was I supposed to do that? My first thought was just… let this Callister blend back in if the others returned. Simple enough. But what if they were all gone for good? If the Director and every other Callister disappeared after this whole disaster…?

Okay, Plan B… A ridiculous idea popped into my head, crazy but maybe workable. …Make him eat some pork and turn him into a pig. The sin was pretending to be human, right? But animals? They weren’t held to those standards. No soul, no judgment. If Callister was just an animal, I could keep him around. Giving him a name wouldn’t even count as a ‘baptism’.

Not that I’d actually throw him in with real pigs…

I could totally fake it though. Say I missed life on the farm, get a small house with some land. Lots of people back home raised animals; one weird pig wouldn’t raise too many questions. Sure, trading a warm Cathedral suite for some rundown shack where I’d shovel crap all day sounded awful, but…

…Damn it. It’s like finding a stray animal. Once you feed it, it’s yours. I couldn’t just abandon him now, could I? He was my responsibility.

“If keeping him human is what’s causing all this trouble,” I said quickly, “I can just have him turn into an animal instead.”

“An animal?” Athanas raised an eyebrow. “What kind exactly? A dog? Cat? Perhaps a donkey?”

“A dog! Definitely pick dog Fabio!” Callister jumped in, popping up next to me with the biggest grin, completely ignoring that I’d told him to stay put. “I’d be a great dog! I could wake you up with face licks every morning!”

Athanas looked from Callister to me, his expression growing darker by the second. “…You’re planning to keep this thing?”

Damn it all!

Here I was, working overtime to convince him that Callister was just a bit eccentric, not actually dangerous, and the lunatic starts practically salivating at the thought of becoming some massive, potentially rabid hellhound. Maybe letting him burn wouldn’t be the worst idea after all…

No! We don’t have time for this! Who cares what animal he becomes?!

Me, walking around with a dog the size of a small horse? What is this, Game of Thrones? I can already hear people gossiping about the nobody serf raising a direwolf.

Okay, time to change the subject. Quick, deflect.

“Athanas,” I said, trying to sound as commanding as possible, “we’re missing the real problem here. It’s not about Callister or how I’m planning to ‘domesticate’ a Holy Flesh Repository! Commander Casimir has been kidnapped while she was unconscious. That’s the actual emergency we need to handle. We have to find her.”

I usually hate those players who just mash through dialogue and skip the entire storyline. But right now? I was praying Athanas would be exactly that guy.

We’re burning valuable time explaining this nonsense!

“Callister can track her,” I pressed on. “I promise I’ll answer all your questions later. But we need to move now. If those creeps use her for some kind of ritual sacrifice, we’re all screwed.”

“…Understood.”

Athanas nodded, not challenging me, even though my explanation sounded paper-thin. I exhaled a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

Thank fuck.

Okay. So he wasn’t the ‘stab first, ask questions never’ type of Heretic Slayer, at least not right now. Maybe reason could actually prevail…

But then… my eyes caught the dark splatters across his armor…

Where did all that blood come from?

Having just shut down his questions, I couldn’t exactly start demanding answers myself. Was it his own? From the Holy Flesh breaking down? No… it looked sprayed on, not leaked. Like it had spurted from someone else…

I kept sneaking glances, trying to figure it out, until his eyes suddenly snapped to mine.

…Shit.

My heart shot straight into my throat. Just making eye contact felt like being accused of something, like he could somehow see right through me to the “God Devouring” ritual and all those plans I’d been considering for Casimir. Standing in front of a holy knight when you’re hiding secrets like that… it’s absolutely terrifying.

I deliberately looked away from Athanas, focusing on Callister instead. He’d taken point, “leading” us with loud, crunching footsteps as he systematically squashed every stray maggot in our path.

“…Why are you stepping on them?”

“Hmm?” Callister glanced down as if just now noticing what he was doing. “Because they’re gross. These ones forgot how to copy anything; they’re just mindless hunger now. Honestly, it’s better to put them out of their misery.”

“…But couldn’t they be saved? If we found a way to clean out the contamination…”

“Ha!” Callister barked out a laugh. “Recycle Holy Flesh that’s been scraped off the floor? How very frugal of you, Fabio. Though I doubt anyone’s lining up to have that gunk shoved inside them…” He scraped his boot against the stone, adding, “Besides, they have to die. Their screaming is incredibly annoying. Crushing the ones behind us also makes it easier to track the fresh ones ahead. Anyway, it’s this way.”

…Screaming? Did he just say the maggots were screaming? That’s more than a little disturbing.

“Almost there,” Callister announced cheerfully. “She’s in that building up ahead.”

I followed where he was pointing. The dining hall. Of all the freaking places, it had to be the dining hall? My stomach twisted into knots, and I couldn’t hide my disgust.

Please don’t let them be chopping people up in there…

If Nyapoleon was holed up inside, just walking in would be suicide. He’d be smart about it, probably rigged the place with all kinds of nasty surprises. And Athanas… He’s still mid-tier at best. We couldn’t just count on him to muscle through whatever defenses were set up.

“You sense any Watched Ones in there?” I asked quickly. “Because if there are, we shouldn’t just barge in…”

Athanas didn’t answer right away. He just pulled out his sword, the blade sliding out without a sound.

“Six small ones, one large,” he said quietly, eyes fixed on the dining hall. “Plus several unconscious people.”

“…You can tell all that from here?” I asked, genuinely impressed.

Suddenly, Athanas slammed his sword into the ground right next to my foot.

What the hell?!

Skewered on the blade and still twitching was something small and round, like a brightly colored little macaron.

“Tracker bugs,” Athanas said bluntly, flicking the now-dead thing off his sword. “They use them to find targets.” He pulled out something that looked like chalk and quickly drew a circle around me on the ground. “Simple ward. Should keep these little pests away.”

Reminds me of those bug spray commercials. Drawing a line that ants won’t cross.

Then without hesitating, he sliced a dagger across his own forearm. Dark blood welled up and dripped onto the stone floor. Almost instantly, more of those macaron-bugs scurried out from hidden cracks, swarming the blood drops like hungry piranhas, lapping them up before crawling in a neat line toward the dining hall.

“The small ones will follow the bait,” Athanas muttered, watching them go with a grim look.

“…Do you know what they are? What’s in there?”

“The smaller ones, yes. I’ve run into them before.”

As he spoke, something big and awkward shuffled out of the building, following the trail of bugs. It looked like an oversized water bird, maybe a cormorant, waddling clumsily. Except… its eye sockets were completely empty, just hollow pits.

What the actual hell?

“They blind and deafen themselves,” Athanas explained, answering my unasked question. “It helps them resist Holy Flesh contamination.” He sighed, a quiet sound of bone-deep exhaustion and weary duty, then stepped forward and cut the blind bird’s head clean off with one swing. Blood splattered across the ground.

The other six, just as blind and mindless, followed their leader to the chopping block just as quickly. I just stood there with my useless fire poker, watching Athanas efficiently butcher these weird creatures. When he finished, the ground was slick with blood.

“Only one big one left inside,” Athanas said, flicking his blade clean with a casual wrist movement. “It’s not moving right now.”

“…When we go in, aim for the upper beak first. Break that, and it’ll be completely helpless.”

Athanas paused, turning to face me. “You know what these creatures are, don’t you?”

I couldn’t look him in the eye. The silence between us felt heavy.

He stared at me hard for another long moment, then seemed to make up his mind. Adjusting his grip on his sword, he headed straight into the dining hall.

Athanas…

He’ll be fine. The creatures inside aren’t built for fighting. They’re just transport units.

Shit. Of course I knew what they were. How could I not?

Back when I played my Utopia run, going full-on genocidal psycho to send every last soul to ‘heaven’, I created non-lethal transport units specialized in “capturing” people to bring them to me. I designed these pelican-looking monstrosities that could swallow targets whole, which I called Mothergeese. And these smaller cormorant versions, made to hold people in their throats and puke them up later? Those were Babygeese.

Those headless bird corpses turning the ground into a murder scene? They were my creation. Definitely Babygeese.

Nyapoleon, you bastard.

Stealing my old strategies? Annoying, sure, but that’s not even the real problem here. The actual issue is that making each one of those things required sacrificing a human being as the raw material.

“Ugh.”