The Gods’ Gacha Game: Return of the God-King

Chapter 74: Become My Apostle [Volume 1 Epilogue]

Existing beyond the bounds of space and time? What does she mean by that?

I paused, thinking hard, then remembered that gods—depending on their powers and domains—could perceive truths beyond what even higher beings could grasp. A Goddess of Imagination, in particular, could conceive countless possibilities, spinning infinite outcomes from even a single moment, at least this was what I could infer.

But that didn’t mean she could uncover my secrets.

Still, in the presence of a godly being, caution was necessary. I needed to be careful… even with my thoughts. It was better not to think about anything sensitive, especially not that.

Raphael reappeared at my side, kneeling with her head bowed. “As you commanded, Lady Istellia. I’ve brought him.”

“Mm. Thank you,” Istellia replied with a small nod, her crimson eyes shifting back to me.

I instinctively lowered my gaze. Even after everything I’d experienced—even with all my fragmented memories of godhood—her presence pressed down on me like the weight of a mountain made of stars. The current me was just a speck of dust in front of her.

“How peculiar. I can’t seem to read your mind,” she said after a moment, curious. “There’s something about you that feels… different from other divine warriors. A deep secret, perhaps?” Her eyes lingered on me, glowing faintly, as if they could strip away every layer I hid behind.

“What are you doing? Why aren’t you kneeling and bowing down?” Raphael snapped, clearly noticing that I was still standing.

Kneel?

The urge was certainly there and growing since her divine presence made it nearly instinctual, but I had no intention of submitting. If I wanted to negotiate with Istellia as an equal, I couldn’t afford to show weakness.

“Do you want to die?” Raphael’s tone turned sharper as she realized I wasn’t complying. An invisible pressure came crashing down on me as she prepared to force me down.

“Enough, Raphael,” Istellia said in an absolute voice, causing Raphael to freeze mid-motion. “For this human, I’ll make an exception. He has contributed a lot to Fantasia, and for that, he is owed a reward.”

Her gaze turned back to me. “Tell me, human… is there anything you wish in return for your assistance?”

Assistance, huh? Truthfully, aside from suggesting the compulsory weekly scenario completions, most of what I’d done hadn’t exactly helped her. In fact, losing Graham and his elite warriors was a significant blow to her forces—even if Graham’s corruption and his contract with an eldritch being justified it.

But regardless, I had defeated her strongest divine warrior. That alone made me the most valuable asset in her domain, at least for now. And I knew why she had summoned me here, which wasn’t just about thanks or rewards; it was about uncovering my true intentions as well as making sure I remained under her control.

Still, there was indeed something I wanted to accomplish by coming here.

“Lady Istellia,” I began, keeping my voice calm and neither servile nor overbearing. “I ask for nothing… except the authority to act freely in Fantasia—and that you do not interfere with what I intend to do in the future.”

As expected, the words sent a ripple through the room, and Istellia even widened her eyes a little—small enough that I barely perceived it. I knew she wouldn’t expect that. She likely assumed I’d ask for power, items, or even a legendary-grade weapon. But I asked for freedom, which was a far greater demand than any material reward.

Of course, I didn’t expect her to grant it so easily; after all, nothing divine ever came without strings attached. Still, what I planned to do going forward couldn’t happen if I had to constantly look over my shoulder or worry about divine oversight. If left unchecked, it could lead to a conflict of interest between her and me—one that could fracture any tentative relationship we were forming.

That kind of fallout was the last thing I needed, at least for the foreseeable future.

“Impudent!” Raphael hissed, visibly seething. “How dare you make such a demand in front of Lady Istellia!”

I remained silent, eyes locked on Istellia’s. I needed to show no fear. I needed her to see I wasn’t just another servant. For a long moment, she said nothing. The lantern in her hands pulsed once, as though activating its function.

Then… a soft smile played across her lips, changing her expression.

“You are bold for a human, Maximillian Anderson,” she said at last, her voice like starlight rippling across a still lake. “Very well. If you seek the freedom to act in my domain…”

She raised her hand, and a divine symbol formed in the air between us. It was a perfect circle etched in luminous silver. At its center was a swirling spiral of stardust, surrounded by four orbiting glyphs, each one representing a facet of imagination: creation, transformation, perception, and thought. This was the symbol of the Goddess of Imagination.

“Then become my apostle.”

To become Istellia’s apostle meant receiving a fragment of her divine power. It wouldn’t instantly make me overwhelmingly strong, but it would significantly boost my potential, especially since I’d gain access to part of her authority. Also, I believed that the power I would receive would be something along the lines of Fantasia Magic, which arguably could be useful in many situations.

But at the same time, becoming an apostle meant being permanently bound to her, in life and in death. It also meant absolute obedience. Every command she issued, I would be compelled to follow.

Even worse, I would lose my current legendary class. It would be overwritten by “Goddess of Imagination’s Apostle.” While that class was certainly powerful—far from mediocre—it couldn’t compare to a one-of-a-kind class like Paradox Incarnate. That class wasn’t just extremely rare; it was broken and tailored to my existence.

Only a fool would trade that away to become a pawn on a god’s board.

And as someone who had once been the God of Creation—the former king of all gods—there was simply no way I could accept being reduced to the role of an apostle, let alone one serving a newly born god like her.

Still, a new god like Istellia likely only possessed one or two apostle slots. Offering one of them to me meant she held a certain degree of trust to gamble on me—or perhaps ambition. Either way, this was a calculated move on her part. But she had no idea who she was dealing with.

“But Lady Istellia! He’s barely even a proper Gimmel-rank divine warrior, not even close to Daleth,” Raphael said in disapproval. “I mean, sure, he beat that trash Graham, but still… please reconsider.”

I nodded slightly. “Raphael’s words are accurate. I don’t believe I’m fit to become your apostle.”

Istellia tilted her head. “Hmm… how humble of you.”

From the side, Raphael scoffed. “It’s good that you know your place, but your tone doesn’t exactly match your words.” She cast a sidelong glance at me, clearly catching on.

I ignored her jab and stepped forward slightly, keeping my voice steady. “Instead of accepting that role, why don’t you hear my proposal first?”

Istellia’s crimson eyes glinted with curiosity. “Oh? You came prepared with a counteroffer?” She leaned back on her floating throne, resting her chin on her hand. “Very well. Speak.”

Raphael’s glare sharpened. She had clearly sensed that I had no intention of playing along from the start, and now I was about to prove her right.

“I don’t want to be an apostle,” I said, “but what I do want is a formal divine pact. One that’s not bound by hierarchy, but by mutual benefit.”

“Mutual benefit?” Istellia echoed, an intrigued smile curving on her lips.

“Yes. You grant me freedom and a degree of authority within Fantasia, and in return, I act in ways that support your interests—offering advice, just as I’ve done before,” I explained. “Think of me as a ‘free agent’ under your banner. Someone who operates independently but is still aligned with your cause.”

Raphael was about to protest again, but Istellia raised a hand to stop her.

“You’re proposing a non-binding contract. A rare sort of pact, especially from a mortal,” she mused.

“Call it pragmatism.” I shrugged. “Or perhaps far-sightedness. Either way, I believe it will serve us both far better than blind loyalty ever could.”

When it came to the knowledge of Divine Will, I was second to none. Even with my memories still fragmented, I knew far more about its systems, structure, and deeper mechanisms than Istellia likely did. I could guide her to become the strongest god of her generation—perhaps even rise to the rank of a supreme god, if she followed the right path.

“Interesting. How interesting.” She laughed, though whether it was because my proposal was amusing or what, I didn’t know. “Very well. I accept your proposal. But remember, should you ever turn that freedom against me, or act in a way that endangers my divine realm, the consequences will be swift.”

“Deal.”

Naturally, I expected that.

Even with the pact in place, I was still a mortal. I would still have to follow the foundational rules imposed within Fantasia. That meant participating in scenarios, accepting System challenges, and staying within the confines of what Divine Will allowed. But I was already doing that and would keep doing that because I planned to use it to my advantage.

But truthfully, the most important reason that I dared to propose this was that even at my current strength, I was confident I could hurt her if I had to. The skill “Absorb Plausibility” allowed me to convert anything I touched into raw plausibility—no matter how divine. Istellia’s throne room was a manifestation of her power, constructed entirely from divine essence and imagination. If I activated the skill here and now, I could rip chunks of this place apart and convert them into plausibility.

Regardless, that was only a last resort (a worst-case scenario). And so far, Istellia seemed remarkably amicable for a god as far as I was concerned.

“Is that everything you wanted to discuss with me?” I asked.

“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “There’s one more thing I need to tell you.”

Afterward, her expression changed, turning solemn as her crimson eyes locked onto mine.

“The Battle of Divine Will is coming.”