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

#187Reader Mode

T/N: Thanks for the coffee Simi! Happy Holidays to everyone! (づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ🎁

#187

For a moment, all I heard was white noise.

It wasn’t exactly shock. More like a full system crash—that specific kind of numbness when your brain realizes it can’t process the sheer scale of disaster, so it just… shuts down.

It felt like getting fired from your job, dumped by your lover, and watching your house burn to the ground all in one afternoon—only for someone to hand you the mortgage bill while you’re still standing in the ashes.

I actually felt dizzy.

I forced myself to breathe. In slow. Out slower.

It took real effort to gather my scattered thoughts, to even begin making sense of the words in front of me.

Athanas has Retrograde?

Since when?

Since the beginning? Since the moment we first met?

How many times has he already lived through this?

The room tilted slightly, like it was spinning just to spite me.

For a second, I seriously considered rolling the scroll back up and pretending I’d never opened it. Ignorance really is bliss, isn’t it?

“…Did I really write this?”

“Is the ‘you’ who lost your memories truly the same person as the ‘you’ sitting here now?”

My eyes narrowed. “…What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means the continuity of a person—what makes you you—is something only you can define.”

What the hell is he even talking about?

I didn’t have the mental bandwidth to unravel the House Lizard’s latest attempt at philosophical nonsense.

So it really is my handwriting, huh.

Probably.

Heaven Above, Earth Below, I Alone Reign Supreme has never once been deactivated. And in theory, the only thing that can influence me… is me.

But even if I wrote it, does that actually prove anything?

People leave handwritten suicide notes all the time. Doesn’t mean they weren’t murdered.

And if you sign a will with a gun to your head, does that really count as free will?

If Athanas figured out I had Forced Persuasion, screwing with my head would’ve been disturbingly easy.

Just saying Retrograde might’ve been enough to send me spiraling.

Hell, maybe I’m the one who gave him the idea in the first place. Maybe I’m the reason he even realized self-targeted persuasion was an option.

And honestly? When you’re up against someone who can rewind time… maybe total compliance from the start is the smarter move. Better than forcing Athanas to reset the timeline over and over until he finally gets what he wants.

At the very least, it would cut down on how much I’d have to suffer in the long run.

So…

[Trust ‘Athanas.’]

“……”

I dragged a hand down my face and let out a slow, exhausted breath.

For a long moment, I just stared at the name. Then, slowly, deliberately, I pressed my fingertips to the parchment. The ink smudged and bled beneath the pressure, blurring the word. I didn’t stop until every mention of his name was gone—scrubbed out completely.

But erasing the name didn’t break the spell.

There was no sudden clarity. No rush of relief. The fog didn’t lift, and I didn’t feel like I’d just freed myself from some great deception.

Just…

Why?

Why is the only image I can conjure up… Athanas crying?

I tried to picture something terrifying. I wanted to visualize him killing me, hurting me, revealing himself as the monster I suspect he is.

But nothing came up. All I could see were those deep blue eyes, filled with tears, staring back at me in silence.

…Am I just making excuses for him?

They say people can look straight at undeniable proof and still reject it, because accepting it means admitting they were a fool.

When cognitive dissonance hits, the brain defaults to self-preservation. We twist the narrative, justify the faults, do whatever it takes to avoid facing the truth.

It’s just human nature.

Athanas…

Even after all that scrubbing, ugly black smears still clung to the parchment. Maybe those leftover traces were still doing their work. Still whispering:

Trust Athanas.

What would it actually take to rip that command out by the roots?

I sat there for what felt like an eternity, pen in hand, completely still.

[About Athanas…]

Would it work? Would this blind faith finally vanish? Would I finally be able to see him for who he really is?

I hesitated. Ran through every possible consequence in my head. Then, my hand moved.

[…all emotions disappear.]

The moment I dotted the period, something inside me stopped cold.

It wasn’t peace. It wasn’t clarity.

It was like a storm-tossed lake had been flash-frozen mid-wave. The motion didn’t settle, it just ceased instantly.

No ripples. No echo. No feeling.

Just silence.

A stillness so absolute it felt wrong, like the physics engine had been abruptly switched off. And I was left in the unnatural quiet.

…I need to be careful with this.

Now I understood why I was supposed to forget that using Forced Persuasion on myself was even possible.

A few more shortcuts like that, and I’d start chipping away at my own personality. Eventually, I’d forget who I even was. And without a physical body to ground me right now… I might just fade out of existence entirely.

Well.

At least now I could look at the Athanas problem with something close to real objectivity, and with no emotional bias muddying the picture.

How do I even describe this feeling…

It was like booting up a mystery game on a fresh save file. All the clues were there. All the evidence was already on the table. All I had to do was figure out what the suspect had actually done.

I began slotting the facts together like puzzle pieces.

A faint frown tugged at my brow.

…The tears still don’t fit. Why was he crying?

Strangely enough, the instincts I’d had before erasing my feelings about Athanas weren’t completely off the mark.

I touched the corner of my left eye, mentally tracing the logic.

“Athanas has never killed me.”

That line… it’s not just a statement. It’s a planted axiom. A trap.

There’s no rational reason to use Forced Persuasion to write something like that… unless Retrograde was already part of the equation.

If I hadn’t already suspected Athanas could turn back time, why would the idea of him killing me even be on the table?

Sure, a panicked version of me might’ve written down something irrational. But this wasn’t random. It felt deliberate. Curated.

Whoever I was when I first opened this scroll… I was being guided. Herded toward a very specific conclusion about Athanas.

That’s what this is really about, isn’t it?

Athanas isn’t your ally.
Athanas took your eye.
Athanas has Retrograde.
Athanas has probably killed you before.

…Okay.

Let’s say I accept all of that. Let’s say I don’t trust him.

Then what?

Right now, I felt nothing toward him. There was no sense of betrayal or attachment. And when I looked at the situation as a cold case study—with all the sentiment stripped away—the holes in the theory became impossible to ignore.

Why would Athanas make me use Forced Persuasion just to lie to myself?

What did that actually accomplish?

No. I’m approaching this from the wrong angle.

The real question is: what was Athanas after that was worth exposing Retrograde?

If his goal had been simple control, there were far cleaner ways to get it.

Think about it. Step one: confirm that self-targeted Forced Persuasion works. Step two: activate Retrograde. Step three: manipulate the oblivious version of me into using it on myself.

He could’ve pulled that off without ever revealing he could loop time.

Athanas could’ve said his memories as the Heretic Slayer were returning. Or claimed the Lord gave him a divine revelation that I was a heretic.

Simple. Plausible. And he keeps his cards close to his chest.

And considering how good Athanas is at acting, he could’ve sold it without breaking a sweat. Retrograde is a weapon best used when no one knows it exists.

…So did he seriously not consider the possibility that I might break the suggestion?

Because if it were me, I would never leave a ticking time bomb like that inside the mind of someone nearly immune to mental interference.

The moment that person senses something’s wrong and removes the tampering, you’ve just handed them the keys to your downfall.

Now they know your biggest secret.

So, let’s flip the premise.

Maybe it wasn’t a mistake. Maybe Athanas has been trying to tell me about Retrograde. Over and over.

But why?

I tapped my fingers against the desk, thinking hard. Mentally rewinding the footage of every interaction we’ve had. Rewatching every move, every line.

…It was all unnecessary.

There’s a hard limit on what “Fabio” could realistically offer him, and I’d already spilled 90% of what I knew.

So why keep this going? Why drag out the relationship?

It doesn’t add up.

Two Retrogrades—maybe three, tops—should’ve been enough.

Athanas could’ve just tortured the rest out of me.

I seriously doubt my resolve would have held up while he was breaking my bones.

Realistically? I would have given in. I would have folded and told him everything I knew, plus a few things I was just guessing at, just to make it stop.

And Athanas would’ve known that.

So why sink so much time into me?

To find another Watched One?

That motive disappeared the second Reyes was captured.

And yet… Athanas kept coming back. He even went looking for me when I was holed up inside the Cathedral.

So what is it?

What is he actually trying to get from me?

My hand went still on the desk.

What if the thing Athanas wanted… was just “Fabio”?

My first instinct was to scoff. What use does a guy like Athanas have for a unit like Fabio? But the truth is, he’s never been that shallow. Athanas doesn’t measure a person’s worth like a shopkeeper counting coins.

Gaining something isn’t the point.

White and black.

White is protected and uplifted. Black is condemned and destroyed.

The logic of Order doesn’t allow for gray areas.

So why didn’t Athanas paint me black?

Because, in some ways, he’s still a child.

Back when he was the Heretic Slayer, Athanas had Adelaide.

A holy knight sworn to the Saintess. A loyal soldier who followed every command without question. Until the day she died, Athanas wasn’t a person. He was just her sword. A tool.

Violence is a sin. Judgment is a virtue.

That’s the loophole. That’s what makes the bloodshed righteous. That’s how the Church of Order justifies it all.

Order is the only thing that separates righteous execution from meaningless slaughter.

And the Saintess’s voice? That was the voice of Order.

So even if Adelaide was condemned for fabricating divine will, Athanas—who merely carried out her commands—would still be seen as clean. Blameless.

He was just the sword.

Granted, Athanas kept killing long after Adelaide died. That’s what ultimately dragged him down into hell…

But if you tilt your head, you could see it another way:
That was the first time the Heretic Slayer acted on his own will. The first time he moved without the safety net of blind obedience.

He was twenty-eight when that happened.

…And this Athanas? He’s maybe twenty.

It’s almost laughable.

He’s spent his entire life in a world where Order was unshakable and absolute. He’s never learned what it means to be ruined.

He is, in every meaningful way, still a child.

And that child just picked up a nightmare of a power—Retrograde—with no one around to teach him how to bear it.

It explains a lot. No wonder Athanas clung to any destiny that came with clear instructions. Any revelation he could take as a divine command.

Holy Knights aren’t raised to think for themselves. They’re trained to be vessels. Instruments. Obedience is the virtue. They’re not taught to make hard calls or live with messy consequences.

So to him, NPC “Fabio” must’ve looked like a glowing quest marker dropped straight into The Legend of Athanas.

‘You are the savior of Order.
I am the anomaly touched by an Othergod.
I bring you forbidden truths of this world.’

And yet… this same NPC insists he doesn’t want to see Order fall. Even without the promise of salvation, he remains loyal. Loyal even when doomed. That kind of contradiction is pure catnip for a hero complex.

From there, the logic practically writes itself:

My destiny is to save this NPC.

And once you convince yourself you’re on a righteous crusade, well, critical thinking doesn’t stand a chance.

It’s honestly kind of sad. Any veteran player would’ve taken one look at Fabio and realized the truth immediately: he’s cannon fodder. A side character who dies off-screen just to give the protagonist some character development.

Important NPCs with tragic backstories? They’re almost always pretty girls. It’s practically a genre rule.

Sure, being cute in a dark fantasy setting doesn’t guarantee you’ll survive until the credits—but at the very least, you’ll get a dramatic death cutscene.

Actually… imagine if I’d possessed Perpetua instead—

Nope. Absolutely not. Where the hell is my brain going with this?

I gave my head a quick shake to dislodge the stupidity.

Anyway, the point stands: I’m not dealing with the battle-hardened “Inquisitor” who spent years deciding who lives and who dies in the aftermath of Order’s fall.

This version of Athanas? He’s basically a total noob playing his very first RPG.

You know the type. New players who equip useless starter gear because “my dad gave it to me.” The ones who insist on dragging their level-one companion all the way to the final boss, stacking up one suboptimal choice after another.

They haven’t learned the hard truth yet: some things are just dead weight.

And sometimes, you have to leave them behind.

In an easy game, sure, sentimentality like that is fine. It might even pay off. But in a game with real difficulty? That kind of naivety slams you straight into a wall you can’t break. Game over. Back to the title screen.

Then again… if Athanas saw me now, he’d probably write me off without a second thought.

I’m covered in unknown divinity, with three heretic Servants bound to me. Trying to claim I still serve Order while looking like this? No one in their right mind would believe it.

Though, to be fair, Order abandoned me first.

I did everything I could to stay loyal. Meanwhile, those bastards were scheming up plans to chop me into pieces and turn my body parts into holy relics.

A stray thought drifted in—detached, more curious than anything.

If I dropped to my knees and begged Athanas to spare me… would he?

Or would he cut me down with that soft, reassuring voice, telling me that those who die for Order are rewarded in the afterlife?

Hard to say.

Especially since Athanas isn’t even in control of his own body right now. He’s been hijacked—temporarily evicted until the Emergency Rescue System’s time distortion runs its course.

Order probably summoned the Bell Keeper on purpose. Most likely to stop Athanas from using Retrograde.

As long as time keeps looping, Records can’t be completely destroyed.

That alone tells me everything I need to know. Retrograde isn’t a divine miracle from Order. It’s a function of the System. No way would a power like time manipulation be handed to some miserable god trapped in the Dark Realm.

So then… what is the System actually trying to accomplish through Athanas?

Is it trying to fracture the timeline?

After all, variables have value.

The System doesn’t make mistakes. But Athanas? He absolutely can. And with mistakes come more possibilities—more outcomes to analyze, more branches to explore.

But that still doesn’t answer the real question:

Why did I write that suggestion? What was I trying to achieve?

“Can you read the time that Retrograde erased?”

“Naturally. You could too, if you’re willing to admit that the ‘Fabio’ who lived through those deleted timelines is still you.”

“Of course I—”

The words died in my throat.

I froze.

Because if I admit that those “unsaved” playthroughs are part of my canon history… then I also inherit every sin I committed in them.

Sure, each rewind only erased an hour or so.

But still.

I didn’t do anything completely unhinged during that time, did I?

…Like kill someone?