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

#184Reader Mode

#184

I stared at the paper crane. I hadn’t meant to give it a name, but it had apparently taken it that way.

The more pressing issue: how the hell do I cancel making this thing my Servant?

I have no idea.

Pushing the name problem aside for now, I focused on the crane.
“Codex. Do you know what happened to Records?”

[I don’t know! I’m Codex, remember? Not Records. Records is dead. Super dead. Definitely dead.]

This is really starting to piss me off.

[Fabio, forget about that! The guy inside here is so annoying! It keeps being trembly and screaming. Can I kick it out?]

[Do NOT call me Trembly!]

[Fine, whatever. I’m leaving. You can stay here and sulk, you pathetic thing. Fabio, bring me that book!]

[How dare you…]

Pandomonium gave me a worried glance. “Hyung, why do you keep turning random stuff into Servants?”

“Honestly? I have no idea.”

I grabbed a book from the nearby stack. The moment the paper crane brushed against it, something shifted. The title on the cover rippled like water before settling into bolded script: [Codex]. The pages flipped open on their own, and then—clear, bright, and unmistakably real—a voice rang out.

[Codex! What a perfect name! Codex means book, so that means all books belong to me now! This is amazing!]

Wait. It could actually speak?

Records had only ever communicated through text appearing on pages. This was different.

Then it hit me—Silver Tongue. My trait must’ve kicked in, strengthening the communication somehow.

A talking notebook with scrapbook functions… Honestly? Could be useful.

I gave it another shot. “Codex, do you remember what happened downstairs? Specifically, why you warned me not to go there?”

[Huh? Codex never said that! I was just reborn! Don’t mix me up with someone else, that’s basically emotional abuse.]

Damn it.

I exhaled slowly, trying not to lose patience. “Okay, Codex. Did Records leave behind any notes? Anything about basement level four?”

[Nope! Codex is freshly born! I’m Fabio’s Holy Scripture now! I deleted all that old junk! From now on, Codex only records Fabio’s story!]

Tsk. I should’ve just named it Records and saved myself the headache. Totally blew it.

Pandomonium folded his arms. “This thing is seriously annoying. You’re actually planning to bring it with us?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

Immediately, glowing text scrawled across the open page: [‘I honestly don’t know,’ thus spoke Fabio.]

Pandomonium jabbed a finger at the book. “Hey! Why aren’t you writing down what I’m saying?”

[Why would I waste good paper on that?]

I quickly stepped in before Pandomonium decided to tear the book in half.

“Codex, context matters. You need everyone’s words, not just mine, if you want to tell the full story.”

[Oh? That’s how it works? Got it! If Fabio says so! ‘Hey! Why aren’t you writing down what I’m saying?’ cried the smelly, stupid thing. Then the wise and glorious Fabio replied…]

I let out a long sigh. “Codex, the information Records left behind is part of that context. It matters to me. Without it, my ‘scriptures’ are going to look like a cheap knockoff. People will laugh. They’ll say it’s incomplete. Defective.”

[What? Defective? No way! I don’t want that!]

“Then can you recover the data? You want to write perfect scriptures about me, right?”

[Of course! I’m Codex, so I can…]

The book went quiet. Its bookmark ribbon twitched, curling upward and scraping awkwardly against the cover like it was scratching its head.

[Hmm… actually, I do know a way! Take me with you! Let’s go downstairs!]

“Downstairs?”

[Yes! Downstairs!]

You’re literally the one who told me not to go there in the first place.

So now I have to go downstairs to find out why I shouldn’t go downstairs. What kind of backwards logic is that?

“What exactly is down there?”

[Records’ corpse!]

I blinked. “Corpse?”

[Yep! Records’ blood tastes like ink! Want to try some, Fabio? You can learn so much from it! Though… it won’t quench the thirst.]

“Yeah, I’m gonna pass on that.”

My head was spinning.

Records’ corpse… did that mean the god was truly dead? Or just erased from certain levels? I’d already suspected something was wrong because Records responses from basement level four had been getting weirder lately. Deteriorated. Slurred, almost.

“Who killed Records?”

[Huh? Isn’t that what we’re going to find out? Fabio, is your memory okay?]

“……”

[Hmm… actually, that works out perfectly! Codex will just write down everything Fabio forgets. That way, Fabio will need me forever!]

I considered my options.

Go down there… or play it safe?

Even if I ran into whatever had killed Records, I could still escape—if the Emergency Rescue System activated in time. But there were dead zones in the basement. Areas where the System couldn’t reach. If the connection cut out while I was down there, the failsafe might shut down entirely.

Pandomonium eyed Codex with obvious disgust. “Hyung, maybe I should go alone. I’ll run down, dump this thing on level four, and get back up here.”

[Thus spoke the despicable, selfish thing! Its dirty desire to monopolize Fabio drips from every word! Does it realize the stench of rotting blood spreads every time it opens its mouth?]

“Hey! What the hell? I don’t smell.”

I shook my head. “No. Too risky. We don’t know what’s waiting down there.”

Pandomonium scoffed. “How dangerous can it really be? Worst case, something kills me and my soul just returns back to you, right? I’ll scout ahead and report back, even if it’s as a ghost.”

[See? The thing doesn’t even bother hiding its filthy, hideous heart anymore…]

Pandomonium shot the book a murderous glare. “Hyung, let’s just burn it. Seriously. One little fire and half our problems vanish.”

I ignored him.

Instead, I hugged Codex tightly to my chest and took the first step down the dark basement stairs.

“Hyung!”

Why am I doing this?

My foot found the next stair before I’d even decided to move.

“Hyung, wait!”

Why isn’t Pandomonium stopping me?

He could. With a flick of his telekinesis, he could freeze me in place.

“Fabio…”

I didn’t want to go.

But my body wasn’t listening.

I gripped the railing so hard my knuckles ached, but still—I kept moving. Down, down, step by step. Something was pulling me, dragging me forward like a moth to a flame. And I couldn’t stop it.

Why?

Down below.

It’s there.

[_____] remains.

The [_____] that cannot be lost.

My steps quickened. My breath grew shallow.

Down. Down. Deeper into the dark.

Codex pulsed against my chest like a second heartbeat—hungry, drinking. Its pages rustled without wind.

All around me, ink began to rise. It seeped from parchment, bled from forgotten books, and curled upward in defiance of gravity. Tendrils of darkness slithered through the air, drawn toward Codex, like spilled ink rushing back into an overturned bottle.

It gathered. It converged.

I pressed on, walking through what hadn’t yet been consumed. The ink splashed warm and thick as blood around my ankles.

How far down had I come?

[Fabio! You can stop now! I’ve read enough! I know who killed Records!]

“…I see it too.”

The words flowing across Codex’s pages didn’t just stay on the paper—they poured straight into my mind.

Records’ final moments. Their despair.

Ink leaking from their body like lifeblood, hands scrambling to catch what slipped through their fingers. Using the last of it to write—to testify.

To name their killer.

The one who drank them dry.

The entity had wings, soaked black in ink. White hair stained like the void itself.

And only his eyes shone—blazing white, like molten silver burning in the dark.

It was beautiful.

Breathtakingly, impossibly beautiful.

And in that final moment, the sheer thought of capturing such terrible beauty filled Alkaten’s heart with something close to rapture.

But Alkaten was suffering.

Not from pain. The shredding of their body was insignificant compared to this. The true torment was the failure to describe what stood before them.

They grieved. They despaired.

“We have read countless books, yet why is our vocabulary so lacking now?”

Even if they combined together the finest lines from ten thousand texts, it still wouldn’t be enough. It couldn’t capture that face. That presence.

In the end, Alkaten offered the highest praise they could imagine:

The entity resembles Order.

Order was the most beautiful thing Alkaten had ever known. And because they were a god who genuinely, deeply loved beauty… Alkaten felt happiness.

Even as the being that looked like Order tore through their heart and devoured it.

Alkaten’s only regret was this:

No one would ever read their final record.

…What the fuck? What kind of reaction was that?

I jerked back from the vision, skin crawling. Was Records always this perverted? Getting off on being eaten alive?

And that name… Alkaten? How was I ever supposed to guess something that random?

Still, putting Records… disturbing taste aside for now—

I replayed the description in my mind. Long white hair. Eyes like molten silver. And above all, a beauty so devastating it could break the world.

The identity of the killer was obvious.

The Saint.

The Saint had come down personally to kill Records. But that only raised more questions. Why here? Why this god and no one else?

Was it a command from Order?

No.

Even while dying, Records had kept recording. And in their final moments, as the Saint devoured them, Alkaten managed to ‘read’ into his thoughts. The Saint—Pell—wasn’t following a command. He was acting on his own desires.

But that was the terrifying part.

Because his heart had been shaped by the Lord, his personal desires were identical to Order’s will. Pell had told the other Apostles to stay behind. He came to the Main Building alone.

Why?

Because Alkaten had been searching for something Order desperately wanted—lost memories.

Memories?

Apparently, Order doesn’t know Oblivion’s true name.

The god under Roklem’s control is just a fragment of the real Oblivion—a pale imitation. This lesser avatar doesn’t have the power to reverse what the true Oblivion has erased from existence.

Roklem doesn’t even remember the original name of this continent.

So “Dark Realm” wasn’t its real name after all.

Which, honestly, made sense. Who names their homeland Dark Realm unless there’s a Light Realm to compare it to?

Roklem had appointed Alkaten as the God of Records and given them authority over all history for one purpose: to uncover traces of what Oblivion had erased. Order was desperate to reclaim what had been lost.

But Records had betrayed them.

Records ran.

They fled here and buried themselves deep within Oblivion’s gut—knowing that Roklem, who didn’t even know this Oblivion’s true name, would never be able to follow.

Normally, not even the Saint could survive a descent into that kind of abyss. But Pell had obtained a holy relic, one that made him immune to Oblivion’s power.

“My beloved Perpetua. Is this a gift from you?”

Damn it.

So that’s why he never gave it back.

I’d known Pell had the Research Director under his control. Every time I asked Adna about the missing relic, she’d avoid my eyes. I thought they had just misplaced it.

But that relic wasn’t a gift from Perpetua at all.

It was my arm.

That thieving bastard!

T/N: Where the hell are the updates, Ladyhotcomb?!

Prophet readers have been stuck in a slow-burn hell for way too long. We’re finally hitting a long-awaited moment, so I’m putting Prophet updates at the top of my list for now. Gotta end their suffering and stop those sassy emails Lol.

I’ll return to my regular update schedule soon and share the love equally between my two children (translations)!

To my beloved Othergod cult, please don’t sacrifice me! My devotion is eternal, this is just a temporary side quest! I swear! Put the knife down! AHHHH—