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

#180Reader Mode

Trigger Warning Self-harm/Suicide: This content may contain scenes or discussion about self-harm or suicide, which could be disturbing for some people.

#180 

Pandomonium held the paper crane upside down, letting it dangle in the air as he kept talking. 

“Don’t believe a word out of this guy’s mouth. He’s just trash-talking me to save his own skin. That’s his whole thing, always assumes whoever’s winning must be on his side. Petty and no pride whatsoever.”  

The paper crane trembled violently. 

[You—! You wretched fool! If I’d known you were this spineless, I never would have chosen you as my contractor!] 

“Wow. Normally he’d be spamming quest windows like it’s a full-time job, but now? All he can do is flap around in that little paper body. Honestly, it’s kind of hilarious.” 

[I’ll hack off your arms and legs and chain you to the forge! I’ll drive a red-hot blade through your guts and temper it in your blood! I’ll make sure the only sound you can ever make again is a scream!] 

Pandomonium smirked. “This bastard’s still cursing me again, isn’t he? Keep being delusional, buddy. This is your reality now. Folded at the edges. The more you shake, the worse your creases get.” 

[GRAAAH!] 

“Take it easy,” I interrupted, “you’re going to tear it if you keep that up.” 

I had to admit, what the God of War said about Pandomonium wasn’t entirely wrong.  

This was the same idiot who once slept through a midterm, posted about how utterly doomed he was, then hit the one-time-per-semester reset button and uploaded proof that he’d applied for military service that same day. 

Anyone with that kind of mental resilience—if he ever truly grasped the reality of his situation— would probably either snap completely or swan-dive off the nearest cliff. 

The truth was, the only thing keeping me from ending it all was knowing that if I died here, I’d just respawn right back in Mother God’s faction. Out of the frying pan, into the fire. 

If there was a button that could completely erase me from this world, I wouldn’t press it right away. But I’d keep it close. Safe. 

Because I knew there would come a time when I’d need it. 

The thought struck me then: if I lost this physical body and became a true god, wouldn’t simply questioning my own existence be enough to destroy me? If that was how it worked, maybe I could avoid respawning in Mother God’s faction after all. 

My heart hammered against my ribs, suddenly racing. 

Is safe to kill myself? 

“Hyung?” 

But then what would happen to the souls I carried? If they trusted me completely, followed me to the very end, they’d disappear with me into that final darkness. They’d find perfect rest, beyond anyone’s reach forever. 

That would be— 

“Why’s your halo freaking out like that? What are you doing?” Pandomonium’s voice finally reached me. 

“…Halo?” I blinked, dazed. 

What halo? 

I twisted around, trying to see behind me, but there was no light visible. 

“Oh. Never mind. It’s gone now.” 

The words hit like ice water down my spine. 

What the hell had I just been thinking? 

My blood turned cold. Was I seriously plotting some kind of mass suicide in the name of “true rest”? What was I, some deranged cult leader leading his followers to their deaths? 

I needed to pull myself together. 

I dragged my hand down my face, feeling cold sweat slick against my palm. 

“Fabio? Are you okay?” 

No matter what happened, asking Callister to die with me would be unforgivable. 

He stayed by my side because he wanted to live. To be seen. To exist and be recognized as an actual person. After spending his entire existence as a tool that was never truly born and could never truly die, the last thing he wanted was to vanish like he never mattered. 

The thought of failing a SAN check was terrifying. If my mind snapped after becoming a god, would that mean instant annihilation?  

I can’t lose this body. Not under any circumstances. 

This wasn’t the time to be psychoanalyzing Pandomonium, not when I was barely holding myself together. Even if it didn’t show up in my status window, I could feel it… my mind fraying at the edges. 

And this feeling… it wasn’t new, was it? 

Was it when I lost my arm? 

No. Earlier. 

It was the moment Athanas was possessed by Oblivion.   

Even though I’d watched him recover safely afterward, my own mind had cracked. Just for a second. But that second burned itself into my memory, like a slap to the face that left me gasping in cold clarity. That was when I realized how far off the rails my thinking had gone. 

Back then, I’d made a decision. A clean break. 

Cut all ties with Athanas. 

So why hadn’t I? 

I let my thoughts drift, retracing the past like fragments of a broken mirror. 

It was because of Andrea. 

Bishop Andrea—zealot and servant of the Distorted One—hated Athanas with every breath he took. He was convinced that Athanas would one day lead to Adelaide’s death and bring about Order’s complete destruction. 

And when Andrea saw the state I was in, he comforted me. Reassured me. Promised that when the time came, he’d be the one to kill Athanas. I wouldn’t have to bear that weight. 

That promise… 

That’s what kept me from walking away. 

Because I couldn’t leave Athanas to face that kind of hatred and danger alone. Not when I knew what Andrea was capable of. But turning Andrea over to the Inquisition? That would mean losing my only real lead on Adelaide. My only chance to save her. 

Caught between impossible choices, I’d managed to convince myself that researching “Order” in the Main Building’s basement records was somehow the right move. 

Stupid. 

I bent down and picked up the poppy from the floor, twirling its stem between my fingers. 

But now… now I had a real path forward. 

I could go after Andrea. 

I could save Adelaide. 

Because in my hand was the holy relic of the Distorted One. 

“Fabio!” Callister warned sharply. 

“Relax, I’m not going to eat it.” 

The relic’s description hadn’t been lying—whoever held it could command the Distorted One’s servants absolutely. When I closed my eyes and focused, Andrea’s presence lit up in my mind like a flare. 

But Adelaide… I couldn’t sense her. She must be outside my detection range. 

“Hyung, what did you just do?” Pandomonium was staring at me. 

“I found the Distorted One’s servant.” 

“Found them? Why? To kill them?” His eyes lit up. “Nice. Just give me the coordinates, I’ll wrap this up in ten minutes.” 

“Stop talking like that.” I fixed him with a hard stare. “Do people really just look like monsters to you? This isn’t a game. Delete the ‘kill’ option from your brain, please.” 

Pandomonium raised both hands. “Okay, okay. My bad. Do you know who it is? What’s their name?” 

“Bishop Andrea.” 

“…Shit.” The color drained from Pandomonium’s face. “That guy’s a boss mob in Heretic Slayer. You’re seriously telling me to not kill him? That psycho murdered patients just to prevent them from wasting Holy Power before they died anyway.” 

“That hasn’t happened yet.”  

“No, it has happened. That’s exactly why he got corrupted and ended up a servant. Just because the timeline reset doesn’t erase what he did. The bastard’s guilty. Period.” 

I bit back the obvious comeback about how Pandomonium’s own kill count made Andrea look like a beginner. 

“I’m a god. I’ll do what I want,” I said instead. 

“Hyung, please don’t do exactly what the Distorted One wants you to do. This is such an obvious trap. Let’s just forget about the guy and leave, okay?” 

“You’re the last fucking person who should be saying that.” 

“Exactly why I am saying it. You can barely handle me. Why go around collecting more people like me?” 

[Shameless creature. Knows nothing of honor.] 

Much as I hated to admit it, the War God’s Helper had a point. 

I let out a long breath. “Look. I’m not planning to make Andrea a servant, okay? I’m just going to fix a few distortions around him. That’s it.” 

“But I wasn’t in your original plan either, was I? You’re not J, you’re P.” 

“…So what, damn it?!” I snapped. “Stop talking back to me and go fetch the Saint’s relic already.” 

The paper crane went silent the moment the relic came within range, as if the proximity had muted it entirely.   

Guess I’ll have to keep it that way. If Trembly starts talking again, he’s just going to be a nuisance. 

“Fabio.” 

“What is it, Callister?” 

“I don’t have shoes…” 

I was about to suggest borrowing some when I noticed Callister’s eyes looking up to mine, wide and worried. 

“Stay here. We’re heading to the orphanage anyway, I’ll grab you some clothes there.” 

“No!” His hand shot out, grasping my sleeve. “I’ll just go barefoot. Don’t leave me, Fabio. Please don’t go far away from me.” 

“Didn’t you say new feet can’t handle the cold? Kids have way more surface area compared to body mass, it’s much harder to regulate temperature.” 

“It’s fine. I can endure it.” His grip tightened. “As long as Fabio holds my hand…” 

“I’ll just carry him with telekinesis,” Pandomonium cut in, already lifting Callister into the air. 

“AAAH! NO! Put me down! Let go! I hate it! Fabio! Fabio! FABIO!” 

“Fuck, my ears,” Pandomonium winced. 

“Pandomonium!”  

Thud. 

Callister hit the ground and immediately scurried over to wrap himself around my leg, his entire body trembling. The way he clung to me made it clear this trauma ran bone-deep. 

“Fabio, Fabio, Fabio…” Callister’s voice was muffled against my leg. 

“Come here,” I said gently, pulling him close. 

I hadn’t planned on indulging him this much, but here I was, lifting him up and wrapping my coat around his thin shoulders. Even knowing he was just a clone the Research Director had created, it was impossible to be cold to someone who looked so much like a frightened child. 

“Hyung, that little shit is—” 

“The more you talk, the longer I’ll carry him. Got it?” 

Pandomonium shut up immediately. 

I began dissolving the distortions clinging to the stairwell, clearing the way as we stepped out of the Main Building. 

That’s when something hit me. Not physically, but viscerally like a thousand invisible insects swarming my skin, trying to burrow in. Crawling toward every vulnerable crevice: my eyes, my nose, my mouth. I froze. 

What the hell was that? 

[SYSTEM: The trait ‘Heaven Above, Earth Below, I Alone Reign Supreme’ has nullified the status effect ‘Oblivion.’] 

The moment the notification blinked across my vision, the crawling sensation vanished. Whatever had been trying to invade me dissolved like dust in the wind. 

So this was what Oblivion felt like to someone who could sense Holy Power. Yeah. Some things were definitely better left unknown. 

“Pandomonium, do you remember where we’re headed?” 

“We’re going to beat the Chapter 1 boss, right?” 

His memory still seemed intact. But whether he could fully resist Oblivion’s effects… that remained to be seen. As we made our way toward the orphanage, I carefully slipped one arm out of my sleeve and fished out the “Marcello” ring I’d stashed at my waist. 

“Where’d that come from?” Pandomonium asked the moment he saw it. 

“From inside my clothes.” 

“No, I mean where exactly? I didn’t feel any pockets when I searched you.” 

When the hell did he pat me down? 

More importantly, he already knew I had Marcello’s ring. 

I’d suspected it before, but now it was obvious: Pandomonium could track the ring. That’s how he’d known I was at the bell tower. He’d followed its location straight to me. 

I should’ve tossed the damn thing in the snow the moment I met up with Athanas. 

Still, there was one advantage to dressing in medieval clothes: no elastic bands yet. Everything was cut loose and held together with cords threaded through wide channels, so it was perfect for hiding small objects. Not that I felt like explaining all that to him. 

Besides, Marcello’s ring wasn’t the one that mattered right now. 

Inventory. 

I slid it onto my thumb, made an OK sign, and reached through the circle with two fingers, pulling out a completely different ring. 

The holy relic of Distortion. The one Reyes had given me. 

“…And what’s that supposed to be?” 

“A ring of Distortion. When I wear it, I look like Reyes Floren.” 

“What?! Why the hell are you carrying around something that nasty? Have you completely lost it? Throw that thing away, now!” 

I ignored him and slipped the ring onto my pinky. 

There was a good chance Andrea was already too “contaminated” by Oblivion to be conscious anymore. But if he was still aware, having him think I was the Prophet would make everything infinitely easier.