Surviving without God

“Gunther. Everyone who could have remembered us is already dead. Family, friends, former comrades.”

“That’s why we have to remember each other ourselves. At least among us, we have to remember who we brought with us... and who we lost.”

Over the past few days, while preparing for the battle against Albino on the 4th floor of the Labyrinth, Gunther found himself recalling that conversation again and again—the one that had taken place on the very first day of his transfer to the Fourth Platoon. He swept his gaze across those gathered here at his call. People who did not possess “Return After Death”... Those who knew perfectly well that death was the end, yet still voluntarily threw themselves into this brutal slaughter.

The first to hear Gunther’s question was Dimona. She was checking the equipment intended for the “first phase” of the raid on Albino, and upon hearing the unexpected question, silently looked at him.

— You asked... why I fight against Luthien?

He only knew that after being abducted to Pendrox, she had been subjected to inhuman experiments. But now he wanted to hear the truth hidden deeper. A brief silence stretched. The old Dimona would have simply looked away without saying a word. But this time was different.

— Gunther.

Dimona spoke in her usual calm tone, brushing her long hair over one shoulder.

— The operating table is cold... and terrifying.

Beneath her hair, at her temple, a deep surgical scar became clearly visible.

— But more terrifying than the blade carving up my body... was the sound of my younger brother’s breathing on the table beside me... It grew weaker and weaker until it stopped completely. I knew very well that on that cold, lonely table he was being cut open and stitched back together countless times... and I couldn’t do anything.

Within that short inhale and exhale, the emotions she had suppressed for so long seeped out. Gunther recalled how, last time in the Labyrinth, Dimona had asked the Runner about the “19th shadow.”

— That’s when I swore. That even if I have to give up my entire life, everything I have... I will destroy Luthien.

...The next to speak was Dramcrow, who had been checking equipment alongside Dimona. The Nest’s resident blacksmith. In the past, he had been a master armorer in the order of Luthien’s holy knights, but had deserted and joined the Union. He seemed like the type who would never open up—but surprisingly, the old man spoke willingly.

— I’ve long forgotten any personal grudges.

— ...Is that so.

Dramcrow’s sunken eyes fixed on Gunther.

— You’re starting to understand it yourself... but in “Night Raven”... there are a lot of good kids. Even if their lives can’t really be called lives, they pick up swords and fight for someone else.

Gunther silently listened to those seemingly empty words.

— All this time, I’ve been forging swords and armor for kids like that. Taking their measurements, watching how they fight, striking the hammer in a way that suits each one. And then... the days come when, over and over again, I have to throw their belongings—returned as shattered, worn-out relics—into the furnace.

Dramcrow turned away again and picked up his hammer.

— ...That’s all.

Viiiiiiing!

The sharp sound of a running mechanism snapped Gunther out of his thoughts. Above his head, a drone launched by Dimona slid through the air, leaving behind a blue trail. There were only a few kilometers left to the point where Albino had made his crash landing. They would arrive soon.

Pshh—

[Gunther, give the signal]

The official name of the 4th floor of the Labyrinth was the “Iron Temple.” It was different from the transport base on the 1st floor, the skyscraper zone on the 2nd, and the mountains of trash on the 3rd. Here, across an endless gray plain, massive structures resembling temples rose at regular intervals.

They were nothing like human sanctuaries of white stone. Among the bizarre constructions made from hundreds of thousands of tons of interlocked steel, the mayor’s residence stood out immediately—wedged among them like a deserted island.

— ...Take cover.

At Gunther’s signal, everyone moved in perfect coordination, dispersing and taking positions. Albino was undoubtedly at peak alertness right now. They couldn’t let him sense human presence.

The only thing allowed to move was Dimona’s drone. It gained altitude and flew straight toward the target—Albino. Standing beside him, Levain, tablet in hand, turned the screen toward Gunther. On the map-like feed, a red “target” marker began blinking.

— ...He’s there.

The zoomed-in image revealed an extremely strange and horrifying sight. In the middle of the iron ruins stood an old man in snow-white priestly robes. Amid the constantly rising steam, the endlessly rotating gears and pistons, he was the only creature of flesh and blood. With a mad gaze, he scanned the surroundings, nervously waving his arms. No summoned creatures were visible nearby yet.

“Looks like he still hasn’t given up on taking the city.”

However, Albino was a summoner and a priest. He was a monster capable of tearing apart the mechanical creatures of the 4th floor even without a single familiar.

Crack!

The steel plates of the ground split apart, and from beneath them burst out tree roots several meters thick. From every branch dripped thick, viscous black sludge. It felt as if the stench of rotting earth could be smelled even from here. They writhed like living beings, and then—

Whoosh!

They lashed out like giant whips.

Boom!

At that very moment, a sonic shock rang out, and dozens of steel golems surrounding Albino were sliced in half. Those whose cores weren’t destroyed instantly and tried to regenerate were immediately swallowed by the sludge and melted away. And each one of them was a monster that even a group of experienced adventurers struggled to handle.

Boom! Boom!

The tree-like trunks, dozens of meters long, moved with terrifying speed. This overwhelming spectacle, like the thrashing of a colossal kraken, was clearly visible to the naked eye. In the brief silence between the crashing blows, the sound of someone swallowing hard could be distinctly heard.

But Gunther didn’t move a muscle. He stood still, steadying his breathing and analyzing the situation.

“Black roots... Using serious power from the very start.”

Even so, he hadn’t yet summoned creatures from Border City. That meant he had decided he could handle things with his own strength for now. Probably reluctant to abandon a city that was almost captured.

As if influenced by Gunther’s calm, the others’ breathing gradually steadied as well.

Wuuuuuum!

Meanwhile, the drone continued scouting the battlefield. In the corner of the screen, the figure of a limp raccoon beastkin finally appeared. And in front of her—one of Albino’s summoned creatures, standing guard. Gunther clenched his fist slightly.

“...Got it.”

Just as expected, Albino was protecting Mikhela. Logical. If she died, escaping would become difficult for him.

“Good. Everything is confirmed.”

Everything was going according to plan. Gunther tapped the Operate Link near his ear.

— Begin.

[...Yes]

A few seconds later—

----------!

The drone circling above Albino and Mikhela began transmitting an “ultra-low frequency command signal” through its transmitter—inaudible to the human ear.

This was a so-called resonance signal used by mechanical entities to exchange data upon detecting an enemy. Over the past few days, Dimona had managed to decipher this pattern, and the “frequency amplifier” created by Dramcrow multiplied it hundreds of times and spread it everywhere.

“......”

The squad held their breath in the shadows of the structures, waiting for what was about to happen. And then—

Rrrrrrrumble!

The entire 4th floor shook. And it wasn’t a metaphor—the ground truly trembled.

Hundreds—no, thousands—of feet rushed toward a single target. Bronze golems marched with thunderous steps, while in the sky, like predatory birds that had sensed prey, swarms of combat drones circled. The number of mechanical hounds was beyond counting.

Gunther looked back at the tablet. At that moment, Albino’s icy, hatred-filled gaze locked directly onto the drone.

Crack!

A tree trunk, thrust forward like a spear, shattered the drone into pieces. At the same instant, Gunther parted his lips.

— Proceed to phase two.

Clack—

As soon as the order was given, the synchronized sound of rounds being chambered echoed behind him. Long sniper rifles were strapped to everyone’s backs. With Mayor Mikhela’s permission, Commander Seraz had personally handed them this special forces equipment—gear that had belonged to police officers killed by the “insects.” Gunther turned his head.

— Take command, Elder.

After Gunther’s words, the old man sitting in the shadows slowly rose. Using the heavy sniper rifle as a cane, he stood up, a grim determination in his movements.

— In the name of the Society.

The old wooden prosthetic struck the steel floor with a sharp sound. The old man answered briefly, without a °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° trace of a smile:

— Let’s hunt.

***

A wrinkled eyelid pressed tightly against the scope. Within the crosshairs, the silhouette of the target was sharply defined. His finger tensed slightly—

Bang!

A sharp shot tore through the noise of battle.

Screeech!

At that same moment, the “insect” crawling over Mikhela’s body was blown apart and vanished. From the impact, Mikhela’s eyelids fluttered, and she cautiously pushed herself up. In her honey-brown eyes was intense fear—but alongside it, determination. She quietly caught her breath, waiting for her “chance.” Her tail froze midair, trembling with tension. In the old man’s eyes, watching through the scope, a faint interest flickered.

“...It really is going exactly as he said.”

The moment Albino saw the army of mechanical creatures, he tried to force-feed Mikhela the “insect.” He intended to at least partially seize control of the Labyrinth—but that plan was thwarted by the timely shot Gunther had predicted.

— Fire!!

Phase two of the Albino elimination operation. Right now, the members of the Society were positioned on the roof of the nearest temple. A perfect vantage point overlooking the battlefield where Albino and his familiars clashed with the machine army.

Tarsha, holding the staff of the Ruler of the Oceans, which granted its wielder near-infinite mana, had lifted them to this dizzying height.

Thanks to that, they could carry out one-sided bombardment on Albino and his creatures. Unlike traditional bows, rifles required less time to master. Over these past few days, under the old man’s guidance, the squad members—training on mechanical monsters—had learned to easily hit large targets.

Moreover, the power of firearms depended more on the type and quality of equipment than on personal skill. The high-grade magi-engineered devices purchased with Border City’s abundant budget were simply undeniable. Mana consumption wasn’t an issue either—Parco handled that, with entire stockpiles of special potions from the Saint and Sharin Vega.

— Kill them!

— Just a little more!

Each time a familiar died, Albino was forced to summon new ones from the city—and the city became safer. Their morale rose with every passing second.

Rat-tat-tat-tat!

Amid the continuous roar of gunfire, the old man suddenly recalled the question Gunther had asked him. Why the Society of Forgotten Books fought.

Why, indeed? In that moment, memories from many years ago surfaced before his eyes. Words spoken on the day when “she,” still a young girl, had first taken the position of the Society’s secretary.

“Which life do you think is more valuable—one that knows the truth and ends... or one that flows in darkness without ever knowing it?”

A life with knowledge of the truth was like a flash of lightning, while a life in ignorance was a long darkness. He believed that even a brief flash would ultimately illuminate that darkness. Yes... it had all started with those words. With that belief, he had abandoned the life of a promising scholar and devoted himself to the Society.

But...

Too much time had passed. Friends he once laughed with died one after another, and that girl was no longer by his side. The Society that sought truth had been mercilessly crushed beneath Luthien’s boots, and all that remained was a world shrouded in ignorance—and himself, aged to the very limit.

The old man inhaled silently.

Bang—!

An unknown strength flowed into the fingertips pressing the trigger.

Bang!

Within his field of vision, as he followed the scope, a figure quietly slipped into the very heart of the collapsing battlefield.

Gunther.

The moment he first met him, the old man had felt a strange premonition—as if he himself had become that girl from the past. That this man would be the one to tear away the veil hiding what this world so desperately concealed.

A man walking the trail of the “Ancient Gods” and the “Forgotten Era.” If he could carry on the spark of their shattered dreams... If so...

“Then dying wouldn’t matter.”

The old man pulled the trigger again. The head of one of the creatures targeting Gunther shattered into pieces.

Step—step—

Under the cover of that barrage of fire, Gunther advanced toward Albino, one step at a time.