Rise of the OtherGod Apostle: Not a Cult Leader, but a Serf?!
#181
T/N: Thanks for the coffee Praxis, Simi, Gaara, & Lunarisrequiem!! (づ ̄3 ̄)づ╭❤️~
#181
Andrea had no idea I was a Watched One. How could he, really? Even if he suspected that Fabio had some hidden backstory, the last thing he’d expect was me walking through his door with freshly minted divine power.
As long as he doesn’t jump to conclusions about me devouring some Othergod’s pet disciple, we’ll be good.
The second I crossed into the orphanage grounds, something felt wrong. It wasn’t the usual background buzz of ambient divinity that always hung around this place. This was different. Like when you know a song by heart and someone plays it with a missing note. A presence that should’ve been there had gone silent.
Then it clicked.
Nobody’s passed out in the yard.
Just a coincidence? Everyone staying inside for once? Doubtful. At this hour, someone should’ve been out in the yard.
I lifted the poppy again, searching for Andrea’s location.
The chapel?
That was odd. Why not his office? Whatever. First order of business: finding Callister something to wear.
The closer I got to the children’s rooms, the worse that wrong feeling became. The place looked like someone had torn through it in a panic. Every drawer yanked out and emptied, wardrobe doors hanging open like mouths with nothing inside. Not a single piece of clothing left—no shirts, no socks, nothing. Even the damn bedsheets were gone.
What the hell went down here?
My brain raced through possibilities. Bedbugs, maybe? Some kind of massive fumigation that required stripping everything fabric? It was the only thing that made any sense. Though knowing this place, I really hoped nobody had dozed off in whatever room they’d picked for the chemical treatment.
The sewing room was where I finally found signs of life, well, sort of. Some priest was passed out cold in a chair, head tilted back like he’d been mid-conversation when the contamination took him. The brazier next to him was barely alive, just a few glowing embers trying to hang on. I kicked it back to life with some fresh coals and started digging through the fabric piles. There had to be something here Callister could throw on.
“Fabio, why do all these have names on them?” Callister asked from behind me, holding up a tiny shirt.
“Keeps them from getting mixed up in the wash,” I said, not bothering to turn around. “Helps keep track.”
“Then I want my name on mine too! Will you stitch it for me?”
“…Later.”
“Make sure it says Callister Fabio!”
Why the hell does ‘Fabio’ have to sound like some kind of family surname?
“Say one more stupid thing and I’ll grab your fucking skull and crush it.”
I whipped around to glare at Pandomonium. “Watch your mouth.”
“Come on, hyung. That little bastard’s completely out of line. You’re not actually considering making him an Apostle, right?”
Fair question, honestly.
Thing was, I had no idea how someone actually became an Apostle. In Conclude, you couldn’t even touch Divine Lineage mechanics until you were halfway through the game. I’d been banking on the knowledge just… appearing once I hit the right influence threshold. Like a tutorial popup or something.
Not that it mattered anyway.
Even if I could make him an Apostle, I wouldn’t. Not Callister.
A vessel needs to be empty first.
An Apostle wasn’t just some devoted follower. They were a container—one you had to hollow out completely. Scrape away everything that made them who they were, then fill them back up with your own essence until the original person was just… gone.
The thought of what happened to Saint Pell made my stomach turn…
“My body is a gift from Fabio!” Callister’s face had gone red with indignation. “That makes me Callister Fabio!”
Pandomonium rolled his eyes so hard I thought they might fall out. “Shut it, worm. If we’re going by that logic, you’d be Callister Ledeia, since her maggots are what stitched you together.”
So surnames are basically divine lineage tags. Interesting.
The more I thought about it, the less noble surnames seemed like bloodlines and more like nutrition facts. Marcello Teres: Now with 10% real Teres essence!
Callister stomped his foot. “No! I’m Fabio’s child!”
He spun toward me, eyes already welling up with tears. “Right, Fabio? Tell him I’m yours! You have to tell him or I’ll—I’ll cry!”
This is so damn exhausting.
I let out a sigh that seemed to start from my toes and worked its way up. I put a hand on his shoulder. “Callister. You’re not my child.”
His face crumpled into a pout. “Hrrrghh…”
“But you’re something better than that.”
The tears that were about to spill stopped right at the edge of his lashes. He blinked up at me, confused. “…Better?”
“Parents and kids? That bond isn’t as unbreakable as everyone makes it out to be. Parents turn on their kids. They abandon them without looking back.”
“Like Marcello did?”
“…Yeah. Just like that. But what we have? It’s different. You could literally melt into puddle of goo tomorrow, and you’d still be mine. That’s way more permanent than being my kid.”
“Then… what am I to you, Fabio?”
“My first believer.”
Callister’s eyes went wide as saucers, small mouth dropping open. Then his whole face lit up. “Your first? Really? I’m Fabio’s first?!”
A flush spread up his neck as I reached over to tie the strings of his new hat under his chin, making sure it wouldn’t fall off.
He really has… turned into a kid.
Maybe getting ripped apart and barely piecing himself back together had done more damage than I’d thought.
So much for that whole plan about turning him into a pig and keeping him that way. Turns out the mind reshapes itself to fit the body way more than I’d figured.
I had just changed out of my blood-soaked clothes when it started… a strange humming that settled right behind my eye. Low and thrumming, like a bass line you feel more than hear. I was maybe halfway to the chapel when it really kicked in, stopping me cold.
“You hear that?”
Pandomonium looked around, confused. “Hear what? I don’t hear anything.”
Shit.
The sound was already crawling under my skin, making everything itch, but I couldn’t let it show. Last thing I needed was Pandomonium having a panic attack and dragging us back. I smoothed my face into something bland and kept moving.
Each step toward the chapel cranked up the volume. It wasn’t music, more like a threat being hissed just outside normal hearing. ‘Ignore me and I’ll curse you!’ that kind of vibe. Made the inside of my ears feel like they needed scratching.
“Pandomonium. Get the door.”
The heavy chapel doors creaked open with a groan.
“Prophet!”
Bishop Andrea practically threw himself at me before the gap was even wide enough. His usually neat hair stuck up in every direction like he’d been tearing his hands through it, eyes wild and desperate. He stumbled forward, almost falling when his robes tangled around his legs.
“Prophet, I knew you would come.”
Did you, though?
Because you look like you’ve spent the last hour pulling your hair out and probably cursing my existence. And just like that, the humming cut out. Gone. Way too sudden to be coincidence.
“You’ve come for the children, haven’t you?” Andrea kept smoothing down his robes with shaky hands, like he couldn’t figure out what to do with them. “Everything is prepared. Forgive my appearance. I’m… I’m not quite myself.”
This was the first time I’d ever seen Andrea so undone.
“Oh dear, have I missed one?” Andrea’s gaze drifted to Callister, unfocused. “What’s your name, child? You look cold. Why don’t you go sit with your friends by the fire?”
“No.” Callister pressed closer against my leg. “I want to stay with… with the Prophet.”
Friends?
I looked past Andrea into the chapel, and the temperature seemed to drop ten degrees.
The pews were packed.
Every single orphan was there, bundled up in winter coats despite being indoors, sitting in these perfect, neat rows. Hands folded in their laps like someone had posed them for a painting. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was the silence. No shuffling, no whispers, no kid noises at all. Nothing.
A room full of children, and it felt like standing in a morgue.
Andrea rounded up all the contaminated kids and arranged them like some kind of display.
Each one had a little bundle in their lap—bedsheets tied up around whatever belongings they had left.
“Did I ever promise to take all the children?”
I tossed the question out casually, half-expecting that whatever the Distorted One had planned would mark every orphan for consumption anyway. But Andrea dropped to his knees so fast I heard them crack against the floor.
“Prophet! I know they are not all worthy, I know! You see their futures, you alone know which souls will never ascend to the Realm of Order. But they are just children! They have not yet been tried, not yet proven themselves in devotion. Please… give them the opportunity to earn their salvation. I’m begging you.”
What the hell is happening here?
This was completely out of left field. But I couldn’t let the ‘Prophet’ look confused. I kept my voice level, almost bored. “So you understand what happened at the Cathedral?”
“‘You will witness the day when Order collapses, and that day is near.’” Andrea’s eyes burned with fervor as he recited it. “I never forgot your words. When I saw them falling—men, women, children—cut down like wheat before the scythe, I knew. The prophecy had come to pass. I gave thanks first, for your warning alone preserved me from the curse. Then I prayed for guidance, because you’d never told me what I was supposed to do when that day actually came…”
“So you gathered the children here,” I finished for him.
“Yes.” A shadow of shame crossed Andrea’s face. “They wouldn’t have survived long out in the cold.”
So that’s why the yard was empty.
Andrea’s voice cracked, caught somewhere between confession and desperate prayer. “Forgive me, Prophet, for my blasphemous doubts. When you didn’t answer, I… I lost faith. Fear took over. I must have lost my mind for a moment. Please, forgive—no. No, don’t forgive me. Condemn me if you have to, but please save these children.”
“It’s not your fault.”
The words were out before I could catch them. Watching this old man break down on cold stone was just too much. But apparently, it was exactly the wrong thing to say.
Andrea completely fell apart, sobbing.
Shit. Now what?
Every option sucked. Sure, Distortion could keep the contamination from spreading, but it couldn’t reverse what had already happened. I could use my blood to snap them out of it, but that would just trade one disaster for another.
If Order ever restored things back to normal and reversed the contamination, anyone who’d consumed a heretic’s blood would end up on a pyre—kids included. It would bind them to me with a servant’s contract, basically signing their death warrant. And if the world stayed broken like this? I had nothing. No food, no supplies, no way to take care of a chapel full of orphans.
The easiest thing would be to just rip the distorted perception of Athanas right out of Andrea’s head, knock him out cold, and bail.
Guy’s too far gone to think clearly anyway. Need him out of commission, even if I don’t take off immediately.
I gripped the poppy tighter and reached out with my power.
Oh, fuck.
My eye slammed shut, forehead scrunching up. This was nothing like fixing Pandomonium’s distortion, that had been like cutting a fishing net off a turtle. Annoying, sure, but doable. Andrea however…
If I pull this out… will there even be an Andrea left?
His soul wasn’t just touched by Distortion, it had completely given in to it. Like trying to straighten out some ancient tree that had been growing crooked since it was a sapling. The distortion wasn’t some overlay I could peel off. It was baked into his core structure.
What if I just cut out the bits connected to Athanas?
No good. Too much of him was woven into it. If I carved that away, I’d be left with an empty shell wearing Andrea’s face.
Alright. Can’t delete it, so I’ll just write over it.
I could twist every thought of “Athanas” into something fake like “Satanas.” Or make him register the real Athanas as “Bathanas” from here on out.
At least Athanas would be safe.
But what kind of person would that leave me with?
After thinking it over for a second, I leaned in close, dropping my voice to something almost gentle. “There’s a passage you love, Andrea. ‘The sinner who repents may one day find cleansing, but those who deny their sins will never reach the Realm of Order.’ Do you remember it?”
“Yes, yes! I remember every word the Lord has spoken.”
“Then help me understand something,” I said, letting the gentleness freeze over. “Why did you bury your sins so deep that even you can’t remember what you’ve done?”
“Forgive me, Prophet.” Andrea’s head fell forward, his whole body shaking. “I’ve sinned more times than I can count. Please… show this wretched soul what I’ve done wrong.”
I pressed my palm against his forehead. But I wasn’t just touching him—I reached through, diving past all those layers of distortion, hunting for the memories he’d deliberately stuffed into the darkest corners of his mind.
The first thing that hit me was the day he decided to kill the sick.
Ugh.
The memory crashed into me like a freight train.
Andrea had visited each one, those too weak to rise from their beds for service. He’d knelt beside them in the dim light, listening to the rattle in their chests, their whispered pleas drifting up like smoke. When one of them asked, voice paper-thin, if perhaps a single cup of water might ease the burning in their throat, Andrea’s smile had been luminous with compassion. “It’s forbidden,” he’d murmured, gentle as a father. “But for you, I’ll permit this small kindness.”
He’d filled their cups until water trembled at the rim.
As they reached forward with skeletal fingers, tears carving rivers through the dust on their sunken faces, he watched something kindle in their eyes… relief, joy, the sweet taste of rebellion against Order’s decree. To Andrea, that flicker was rot spreading through their souls. And in that perfect moment, just as their cracked lips touched the cup’s edge, he’d turned their heads sharply to the side. The crack echoed in the silence.
Then came the others, those who’d refused the water through parched throats, whispering that someone stronger should have it. Andrea had praised them for their sacrifice, his voice rich with reverence. Then he’d wrapped his fingers around their windpipes as they lay there, powerless beneath his hands. Their sin, in his twisted logic, was worse: clinging to empty existence, drawing breath that rightfully belonged to the worthy.
They were nothing but “living corpses” to him—parasites draining the blood of the faithful. In his Lord’s name, he had become the cure. In his Lord’s name, he had murdered them all.
I jerked my hand away, feeling as though I’d plunged it into something rotten.
Andrea’s mouth opened in a perfect circle of horror. No sound emerged.
But I could hear him all the same.
His soul was screaming. And it was so fucking loud.
A violent shudder ripped through Andrea’s whole body, like he was trying to physically shake the memories off his skin.
“No… I didn’t—” The words came out choked, his eyes going wild with panic. “Prophet, I swear to you, those are lies! Those people from the visions—they’re alive! Every last one! I can take you to them this instant. I’ve never killed them!”
“And what about the ones Athanas supposedly killed?” I asked. “Aren’t they alive too? Does that make him innocent?”
“But Athanas…” Andrea’s face twisted, jaw muscles spasming as two different realities tried to exist inside his mind.
I kept going, peeling back layer after layer of distortion. “He was never your enemy, Andrea. Never the root of all evil. Just a convenient place to dump all the darkness that was already rotting you from the inside. A scapegoat, because facing your own sins was too much to bear.”
“No…”
“Athanas is the savior of Order.”
“But these memories…” His voice had shrunk down to almost nothing.
“You turned into a monster and tried to destroy the one person meant to save this world,” I pressed on, twisting the knife. “To see the world’s savior and still try to kill him… that was your role in this tragedy, Andrea. Not his. You offered your soul to something evil.”
“It can’t be true… That’s not possible…”
“Keep denying it, and you’ll never reach the Realm of Order.”
I could feel Andrea’s sanity starting to crack, spider-webbing out like a windshield after impact. Still, I didn’t let up.
Yeah, this is pretty cruel, but better to break him now than leave him as the Distorted One’s slave. At least this way he gets to be free.
As the last piece of distortion fell away, the wild panic in Andrea’s eyes shifted into something else… understanding.
“You…” His voice came out completely hollow, drained of everything. “Who are you? What are you?“
“I’m the Prophet. I came to show you the truth.”
“…If what you’re saying is real,” Andrea said slowly as blood-tinged tears carved tracks down his face. “then no Prophet could exist. You’re not my Lord’s messenger.”
Even drowning in his own horror, the man had found his footing. Andrea stared straight through me, his gaze cutting deep, and whipped something out of his sleeve. A black snake hit the chapel floor with a thud.
Tch. Poor snake. Thing hadn’t done anything wrong.
Well, except for being the living distortion that had been feeding Andrea’s delusions for years, keeping them nice and healthy…
“If everything was a lie, why reveal it now?” Andrea’s voice cracked with betrayal. “Have I outlived my purpose? Is this your idea of mercy? Letting me choke on my own sins and regret? Tell me! What are you?!”
I slipped the ring off my finger, and the Prophet disguise melted away like ice in summer.
“Bishop Andrea,” I said softly. “You have it all wrong.”
He staggered backward, the color draining from his face. “…Fabio?”
“Just listen for a second, okay?”
“Why?” Andrea whispered, his gaze fixed on my face. “Why do you look exactly like him?”
“Because the god you’ve been praying to has been playing you for a fool. The Distorted One is a god from beyond the stars, just like the God of Plague. It’s an evil entity that feeds on suffering, that finds pleasure in watching good people twist themselves into abominations. I only wanted to free your soul from its grip. But for that to happen, you had to see the truth with your own eyes.”
The chapel went quiet except for Andrea’s rough breathing. When he didn’t say anything, I kept going.
“I know you’ve got questions. So ask them. I’ll tell you whatever I can.”
“The sins I remember… the people I murdered. Did any of that truly happen?”
How the hell would I know?
But a ‘god’ has to keep face. I had to give him something, an answer that felt true without being an outright lie.
“That depends on how you choose to see it,” I said, picking my words carefully. “You could tell yourself it was all just a nightmare, that none of it was ever real. In that case, sure, it never happened. But if you erase that reality, you erase Adelaide’s pain too. Every moment she suffered, every wrong you carry, your hatred—they’re all bound together. You can’t pick and choose which parts of reality you want to keep.”
“Can such a thing actually be possible?” Andrea’s eyes searched mine desperately. “Who are you to offer something like that? No, what kind of god are you to have this power?”
I held up the poppy, its petals catching what little light filtered through the chapel. It belongs to this.”
“What is it?”
“A relic of the Distorted One.”
Andrea stared at the flower, bewildered. I took his hand and wrapped his fingers around it.
“With this, I could make you do whatever I wanted, Andrea. Say anything, think anything. Turn you into a slave. But I won’t. That’s the trap. That’s exactly what the Distorted One wants. Every time I use this thing’s power, Distortion digs its claws in deeper. Use it enough, and eventually I become just like It.” I looked him straight in the eye. “I’m not going to let that happen.”
“…And you expect me to trust you? Some unknown god?”
I cringed. “Please, just call me Fabio. Look at me, I’m still the same ignorant serf Reader you’ve always known. Weak, insignificant… Calling me a ‘god’ feels ridiculous. I awakened this power minutes ago, and honestly? I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Then you must be desperate for followers. For someone to serve you.”
“No! Absolutely not.” A real shudder went through me. “I don’t think I’m cut out for the whole godhood thing. And seriously, please don’t pray to me. I’d probably develop neurosis having to listen to people’s prayers all day. I came here to save you, Andrea, not convert you. The moment you start putting faith in me instead of Order, everything I just did becomes pointless.”
“Then why…?”
“I already told you.” I dropped down to my knees in front of him, taking his cold, trembling hands in both of mine. “I couldn’t leave your soul to that thing.”
Andrea’s lips trembled. “Even after knowing what I’ve done?”
“Especially after knowing what you’ve done.”
“But I—”
“Don’t you see?” I interrupted, clutching his hands tighter. “You could have abandoned Adelaide, but you didn’t. You loved Alicia too much to ever do that. That’s why the Distorted One came for you. It finds good people like you, and twists that goodness until they break under the weight of their own despair. If you were truly evil, Andrea, you wouldn’t be tormented by what It made you do.”
“Sin is sin,” Andrea mumbled, the words tumbling out like muscle memory. “The reasons don’t—”
“Then let your Lord be the judge. He’ll probably toss you into hell, but hell’s still part of Order, right?”
Silence hung between us, heavy as stone. The chapel air felt charged, almost electric. Then I felt it… this subtle shift, like something falling into place inside his mind. A warm pulse of power washed through me. Persuasion.
So that’s what gaining experience feels like.
“…May I ask one last question?” Andrea’s voice had gone soft, all the earlier hysteria wrung out of him.
“Sure. Though if it’s about saving all the children, I don’t think—”
“How did you lose your eye?”
“Oh. Uh…”
T/N: Hey y’all, I’m back and officially a Mrs. now! 🎉 Sorry for the scare, I totally should’ve posted that update under a chapter instead of trying to be fancy with the announcement feature. I should’ve known better 😂 I had a good laugh reading all your concerned messages though, y’all are the sweetest.
Thanks so much for the love and congrats! It really means a lot 💖
TLDR: Prophet and Othergod Translations are still alive. So am I. Just got hitched! 🙂
Andrea asking the real question now. Also where out boi athanas? Probably still ringing a bell, he gonna go full yandere again, i can feel it.
Ahhhhh!! congratulations on the marriage! praying for a life of happiness for both of you 🙏
I feel like Fabio is getting nowhere follower hahah
How do you get a pfp thingy?
I’m not sure. Seems to be tied to my email by wordpress.
Congrats on your marriage!!!!!!! <3<3<3
Congrats on your marriage 🤍 !!!! Thank you for the chapter!!!