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

#179Reader Mode

#179 

Did the Helper really become my Servant? No, that didn’t feel right. 

With Pandomonium or Callister, I could sense a genuine connection. But with Trembly? Nothing. All I had was the faint trail of spit clinging to its paper body, letting me track where it was. That was it. 

I’d probably have to gnaw on it every now and then just to keep tabs on his location. 

[Stop! Stop this at once!] 

If only I could siphon the War God’s faith points… that would’ve been useful. 

But maybe the problem was that Trembly served as an Othergod’s representative. As long as he refused to give up his identity as an avatar of “War,” he could never truly be my Servant. Sure, I could crush his will with Forced Persuasion, but the moment I did, he would cease to be the War God’s Helper. 

A shame, really. Which meant my only option was to sweet-talk him into compliance. 

The more I subjected him to Forced Persuasion, the quicker Trembly would “accept” my suggestions. With a human, I might feel a little bad about that. But for a leftover scrap of an Othergod? I could manipulate him however I wanted without losing sleep. 

Honestly, wasn’t that less brainwashing and more… character development? 

Time to start with what I was really curious about. If he answered, great. If not, Forced Persuasion would do the job. 

“Trembly, tell me something. What exactly is the System? Is it another Othergod? Why do Othergods follow its rules? Is it stronger than them?” 

[…I don’t know.] 

Is he sulking because I called him Trembly? 

“My apologies, oh mighty representative of the War God,” I tried again, laying it on thick, ” please bestow your wisdom upon this humble fool. What is the System?” 

[Don’t. False courtesy is more offensive than insult. If the truth is ‘I don’t know,’ then those are the only words you’ll get. Nothing more.] 

“You really don’t know? How is that even possible?” 

[Because there’s no need to know.] 

“So what, you’re saying the God of War just doesn’t care? Muscles where his brain should be?” 

[Othergods do not ‘think’ with brains. And that truth applies to every Helper, not just the embodiment of War.] 

“You’ve honestly never questioned any of this?” 

[Why does it fascinate you so much?] 

The shift was sudden—Trembly’s tone softening, touched by something disturbingly close to pity. 

[Looking at you now, I see it. You’ll destroy yourself long before you ever kneel before me.] 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  

[It means my purpose is simple, unbroken. I exist to embody the God of War and claim victory in this game. Nothing else matters. Questioning your own existence only fractures your identity, breeds self-loathing, and ends in annihilation.] 

So gods didn’t do existential philosophy? The second they started pondering about the meaning of life, they dropped dead? They were like those fragile glass fish that shattered if you looked at them wrong. 

[Never doubt your nature.] 

The crane continued, voice unexpectedly earnest. 

[Don’t let yourself believe you’re some pathetic creature trapped in a rotting shell. That’s their lie, not your reality. When enemies claim you’re nothing, make them choke on their lies. When they deny your existence, wield that vicious tongue like the blade it is. Mock them. Belittle them. Carve yourself into their memory until they can never forget you. The only alternatives are madness or destruction. There is no middle ground.]  

I stared at the half-chewed paper crane, caught completely off guard.   

…Is Trembly actually trying to help me? 

A few minutes ago, he’d been shrieking for death like some bargain-bin melodrama villain. What triggered this sudden change? 

“You realize if I self-destruct, that’s your ticket to freedom, right?” I asked. “That’s literally your win condition. So why bother helping me avoid it?” 

[I don’t know.] 

“You don’t know?” I leaned closer, scrutinizing the crumpled little thing. “What, being reduced to this sorry excuse of a body made you grow attached to me or something?” 

[I’d sooner pour molten tar down your throat, set it aflame, and watch your tongue fuse to the roof of your mouth so you choke on silence forever.] 

“Not exactly what I meant. But that’s what’s bizarre, isn’t it? First you give me advice, then you claim you don’t know why. Which means the real reason must be—” 

[You really don’t understand it, do you? When I say ‘I don’t know,’ it isn’t coyness. It isn’t some trick. Every part of me aches to see you suffer and die in ways you can’t even imagine. And yet… against every instinct, I offered you words that might help you live. These urges clash against each other. That contradiction is why the only honest answer I can give is: I don’t know.] 

What the hell is he even trying to say? 

[That look on your face tells me you still don’t understand.] 

The crane’s papery voice carried a weight that felt almost like disappointment. 

[As long as you keep thinking of yourself as human, you will never escape this confusion.] 

…Could this be some strange side effect of him being “deeply moved” by what I said? 

Come to think of it, everyone touched by that influence had ended up acting friendlier toward me. Like Antonio, Nasir, Andrea…  

[Let me make this simple. I gave you advice because it led to the optimal outcome. Nothing more. Nothing less.] 

So basically, he’s too proud to beg for his life, so now he’s proving his usefulness instead while keeping his pride intact. 

“Sure, I get what you’re doing,” I said with a dismissive wave. 

[Ask something else. You’ll never truly understand anyway.] 

The fact that Trembly was answering this readily already told me his resistance was cracking. 

What else did I want to know…? 

“What do you think of the other Othergods? Do they ever interact with each other? There must be some connection with the Mother God, at least—”

[Do not mention that one in my presence.] 

“…Alright then. What about the Distorted One?” 

[Revolting. An abomination in every conceivable way.]

“That’s all? Nothing else to say?”

[What more is there? Every word spent on that creature stains the speaker.] 

“Fair enough. Then how about the Rider of Civilization?” 

[I have no patience for Rider. Once, that fool stood before me—the very embodiment of war—and had the audacity to whine about failing to build a world without conflict. And where did this pathetic conversation take place? On a battlefield already consumed by mutual annihilation, with nuclear fire falling like rain from the heavens.]

“What about the Happy God?” 

[…Is there such an Othergod?] 

Wow. Happy God’s recognition rate is abysmal. 

Sure, happiness and war were polar opposites, but for War to not even know Happy existed? That was strange. 

“Alright, enough of this nonsense.” Pandomonium abruptly broke in, flattening the paper crane against my palm. “I don’t get a single word of what you two are babbling about, but if there’s more to say, you can keep talking while we move.” 

What? He didn’t understand a word of that? No, more importantly… 

“Move? Where are we going?” 

“Everything’s settled now, right? We’re heading to my domain, obviously.” 

Settled? What exactly does he think is settled?  

“You weren’t all that into killing all of House Teres’s units, right?” Pandomonium continued breezily. “Now that you’ve got a Helper, you can just convert my entire family into your followers instead. It’s a bit out of the way, but not a bad place to start. Our biggest issue was food shortages, but I already secured the southern granaries.” 

…So in this bastard’s head, it’s still nothing more than a game. 

“I’ve set up camps at regular intervals, like makeshift rest stops. We can resupply there.” Pandomonium was already rummaging around, gathering supplies. “Got anything you absolutely need to bring? If not, we should head out now. I’ve already packed my stuff.” 

“What about everyone else?” 

“Everyone else? Who?” He tilted his head. “The Heretic Sla—ah, you mean Athanas?” 

“No, not him. I’m talking about the people who followed you to the Cathedral. Your family’s staff. Aren’t they coming?” 

Pandomonium froze, then gave me a look of genuine confusion. “None of them are valuable enough units to bother bringing along.” 

This crazy bastard really did see people as nothing more than game pieces. 

I swallowed down the urge to curse him out. 

“What about your family head?” 

“Oh, right.” 

Oh, right? This unfilial bastard. 

She might not have been his actual mother, but to the family head, Marcello was still her flesh-and-blood son. The least he could do—while wearing that body, no less—was show her the basic respect due a parent. 

“How the hell do you forget something like that, you idiot?” I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to keep my irritation under control. 

And on top of that, the Cathedral where the Council had gathered was still weighing on my mind. If there were any leads on fixing the contamination, that was where I’d find them. 

“I didn’t forget! I took care of it.” 

“…Took care of it?” 

What the hell did that mean? Did he get her into a carriage? Somewhere safe? 

“Nearly got killed by an Apostle while I was at it, actually.” 

That… almost reassured me. So he had gone to the Cathedral before heading to the bell tower. Probably just didn’t want to lose a high-level unit, but still— 

“Want to see?” 

See what, exactly? 

Before I could ask, Pandomonium reached into the air and yanked something out with a flourish. 

“Ta-da!” 

I froze, horrified. 

You can’t store living beings in an inventory. There’s no air in there. Even if, by some miracle, it did have air, the head of House Teres wouldn’t have survived. 

Pale blue hair spilled from the white wrappings, fine strands sliding free like silk threads. 

“House Teres specialty—the former head!” Pandomonium announced cheerfully, as if unveiling a prize. “With this, you too can gain telekinesis—” 

“Put it away.” 

“Hm? Sure.” 

He shoved that thing back into his inventory like it was nothing more than another piece of gear. “…Actually, I should’ve processed it first,” he mused. “Your Mental Power’s on the low side, right? Dead bodies cause status effects for you. Did that one trigger a debuff?” 

I couldn’t get any words out. 

“Sorry, didn’t think that through.” Pandomonium sounded genuinely apologetic. “I just wanted to show you.” 

“…Why?” 

Why? 

Why would you ever want to show me something like that? 

“Huh? Because it’s a gift, obviously.” 

“…..”

“I was going to use it myself,” he continued, “but since I didn’t end up making a contract with the God of War, I don’t need it. Unless, of course, you’re planning to make me your Apostle…?” 

“You killed her just for the holy relic?” 

“That was more like a bonus.” His tone stayed maddeningly casual. “The family head had to die for me to take over House Teres. Sure, a few loyalists will resist, but they’re worthless as resources anyway. And the ones sitting on the fence? They’ll only choose a side once every other option is gone.” 

My hand clenched so tight the paper crane crumpled in my fist. 

“You fucking bastard! What the hell did you do to Pandomonium’s amygdala and insula?!” I snarled at the crane. 

[I didn’t tamper with anything in particular. You’re the anomaly here. Every other player is calibrated to see this world as nothing more than a game.] 

“Hyung?” Pandomonium blinked at me, confused. 

[Is that what upsets you? That he is not like you?] 

The crane’s voice burrowed deeper, prying into me. 

[The desire to mold a devotee in your own image is natural for a god.] 

“You’re… talking to the paper crane again, aren’t you?” Pandomonium asked. 

[But what would you gain by making him like you? Would you prefer he flinch at every drop of spilled blood? That he feel his chest cave in with the weight of every life he ends? That guilt consumes him until he craves his own destruction?]

My hands shook uncontrollably.

[Violence is the foundation upon which peace is built. You, of all people, should understand this.] 

“That’s it.” Pandomonium’s fist closed fully around the crane. “I’m taking this thing away from you.”