Surviving without God

No matter how cunning the plans he pulled from his sleeve. No matter how much power he poured into them. The fact remained unchanged—Albino existed in an entirely different “weight class.”

There were only a few ways to defeat an opponent who overwhelmed you with sheer power. And Gunther had chosen one of them.

“Counterattack.”

To read the enemy’s intent and strike back at the exact moment when their power reached its peak. To render all their effort and strength meaningless—turning it against them. Only that could carve out even a phantom chance of victory against a monster.

“That’s why...”

Gunther took a step back, scanning the battlefield. That was exactly why he had designed this battle the way he did. For the sake of a single “counterattack” that would force Albino into paying a colossal “cost”—one that could not even be compared to the loss of ordinary summoned creatures.

“10.”

The last few minutes. He moved silently across the battlefield, doing nothing but building up the “Blood Flash” counter. Minimizing his presence, swinging his sword only as much as necessary.

“9.”

Despite the rampage of the special unit, Albino showed no reaction beyond summoning new creatures. ...He simply stood there, like a petrified tree. At first glance, it looked as though he was at his limit—but a monster like him couldn’t be exhausted so quickly.

“8.”

He was conserving strength. Preparing for something. For what?

“7.”

What were Albino’s intentions? What was his goal? In truth, those were meaningless questions.

Gunther had already prepared something the enemy would inevitably reach for—and was moving while anticipating every single step in advance.

“6.”

Gunther broke into a run, using every available method of concealment. He reignited the “Red Lantern” and, for the first time in a long while, activated “Frost Stealth.” The support squad continued their noisy battle, drawing attention to themselves. At that moment, an inexplicable sense of unease spread across the battlefield.

“5.”

In between, he struck with his sword.

Boom—!

[Blood Flash: 96 strikes accumulated. 96/100]

“4.”

The squad’s battlefield receded rapidly behind him. Instead, the starting point—the temple roof—drew closer. His comrades, fighting with everything they had left, came into view. Magical pistols were still firing beams of light, but Parco’s breathing—bearing the entire burden—was at its limit. A magical pistol wasn’t like gunpowder weapons where you could just swap magazines. Levain supported Parco, who was on the verge of collapse from exhaustion. ...Gunther looked at them. They met his gaze with short, resolute looks.

“3.”

Gunther stopped. His consciousness plunged underground. The senses of “Serpent’s Nest” probed the depths of the Labyrinth.

Rustle—

The Labyrinth’s setting was a fallen mechanical civilization. Normally, the ground should consist of layers of steel plates, with rusted wires and machine debris tangled between the gaps. Yet to Gunther’s surprise, his senses detected something else.

Soil. But not just soil. Moist, hot... living earth. Like someone’s flesh.

And down there—something colossal was rushing upward at tremendous speed from the depths.

[The King of Ninety-Nine Defeats unconsciously tightens his grip on his sword]

[Alphonse of Red Street casts aside his joking demeanor]

[The Drug-Addicted Saint freezes, digging through old memories]

[The Ruler of the Oceans shudders in disgust]

“Knew he’d use this.”

From the very moment the sniper group took position on the temple roof, this monster had already begun burrowing ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) deep into the Labyrinth.

“2.”

Gunther stood directly above the point where the threat would emerge.

Yes. This was the inevitable conclusion. Driven into an endless war of attrition, Albino—tormented by growing hunger—would never ignore the mana and flesh of elites gathered in one place. That was why the sniper positions had been arranged just barely within range.

A deep breath.

“1.”

Gunther pushed off the ground with all his strength.

Ruuuumble...

The ground where he had just been standing collapsed with a deafening roar. The earth exploded, sending up clouds of dust, and beneath it yawned a black, bottomless abyss.

[The one running ahead of the wind flaps her wings toward you!]

His fall was momentarily delayed. Gunther looked down.

“It’s coming.”

Something colossal stirred beneath his feet. ...No—the movement itself wasn’t slow. It was his perception that lagged. The thing was simply too massive to be grasped at once. An indescribable form surged upward.

[“Pure Heart” is activated]

Tiling—!

[Boss appearance: 6th Root]

A hundred years of devotion. At the end of that long path—through sacrificed flesh and blood, prayers, and fanaticism—the Lord of Gluttony, Jean Daet, granted a human a fragment of his “Divine Body.” The tentacle-like roots that had crushed your party with overwhelming power were merely minor offshoots of this being.

[※ Warning: From this point onward, Albino’s life force is fully synchronized with the “6th Root.” As long as even one of them lives, the battle will not end.]

...In other words, sever one—and victory becomes possible.

Crack-crack-crack—!

A spiral body twenty meters in diameter shook the axis of the earth as it climbed the temple structure like a serpent. Countless mouths scattered across it screamed in unison. Gunther saw the wrinkled flesh twist, forming the outline of a human face. A faint smile.

[Checking resistance to mental corruption...]

He had warned his allies. That something “demonic” would appear. But no one had expected this. From the temple roof came screams bordering on despair.

— A-a-a-a-a!

Trembling gun barrels aimed at the climbing root all at once.

— Ngh!

— Die!

Rat-tat-tat-tat—!

A relentless barrage of fire. But it was useless. Magic bullets the size of fists—capable of easily piercing ordinary creatures—merely bounced off the bluish-black surface like pebbles. The worst possible matchup for firearms. And for swords... everyone was already at their limit.

...That was why Gunther was here.

Whoosh—!

Cutting through the air, a human silhouette landed atop the rapidly growing root. Gunther immediately dashed downward. Into the abyss... to where this root originated.

Even Albino, who had only just sensed Gunther’s presence, could not have anticipated such a maneuver. Who would think to leap into that endless subterranean void?

Scrrrr—!

He rushed down the insane slope. The uneven flesh writhed, trying to coil around his ankles, thick slime melted the soles of his boots—but he did not stop.

“I have to do this.”

His calloused hand gripped “Straight Line of Despair” with a death hold. At the same time, the artifact ring infused with mana shattered and reformed into black armor.

Tiling—!

[“Eyes of the Tyrant” Lv. 1 activated]

[“Overdose” Lv. 1 activated]

[Effects of all currently applied substances temporarily enhanced]

[Special emergency ampoule of the Drug-Addicted Saint — Type X used!]

[Special emergency ampoule of Sharin Vega — All or Nothing used!]

[Blood Flash: 100 strikes accumulated.]

[“Blood Flash” charged. Next attack will activate the skill.]

(Destructive power depends on mana stat)

(Landscape destruction and knockback applied)

Wuuuuung—!

In the endless fall, Blood Flash infused his sword with power. A black current surged up the blade, merging with the scarlet flame of eternal torment. The two energies collided, erupting violently; the recoil twisted his joints, and his entire shoulder began to break. Gunther gritted his teeth and endured. 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

Almost there.

He could feel the gazes directed at him from the temple roof.

Parco, lifting the weapon of a fallen comrade. Levain, catching his breath while drawing a dagger. The old man, leaning on his prosthetic, gripping twin blades.

They all knew.

That in this battle, they were merely bait.

But no one retreated.

And so Gunther could not stop either.

Boom—!

When his body was on the verge of falling apart, crossing the threshold of its limits, he poured all his power into that strike. Becoming a crimson flash, he plunged into the abyss. There, at the very core—a pulsating mass of flesh and pus—countless roots branched out in every direction.

Grrrraaa—

The “6th Root” lunged at the temple roof, maw wide open. And at the moment his comrades cried out in unison—

Gunther’s strike fell upon the target.

.

.

.

— Kh—!

A groan, like a scream of agony, tore from Albino’s throat. An indescribable pain engulfed him. It felt as if a red-hot steel rod was twisting inside his body.

Pshhhh—!

And it wasn’t just a sensation. Wounds like burns from a searing blade spread across his entire body. His snow-white priestly robe was instantly soaked with blood and pus.

— Im... possible.

At the same time, all summoned creatures around him froze. Even as mechanical beings trampled and struck them, they did not move. Some simply dissolved into black particles and vanished.

But most importantly—the “6th Root,” which had been about to devour the temple roof, suddenly stopped. Everyone stared in stunned silence at the frozen, statue-like monstrosity.

— Ha... ha-ha...

Albino laughed, his entire body trembling. The pain was so unbearable his consciousness dimmed, yet laughter continued to spill out. It was rage. But also—admiration. A solidarity of madmen.

Who, seeing that root—something that inspired both terror and reverence—would think to dive into the abyss from which it grew... just to sever its base?

It was a terrifyingly precise decision. Madness that went beyond ordinary courage.

And the enemy had succeeded.

Albino had lost a massive part of himself.

Coughing up scarlet blood, Albino dropped to his knees. Sitting in a pool of blood, he whispered slowly:

“...Ah. What a regrettably talented man.”

Everything hung by a thread.

Shrrr...

Deep within the abyss. The nearly severed root began to writhe. The flame of eternal torment burned fiercely, hindering regeneration. Flesh burst apart, slime boiled, releasing strange vapors. But the flame could not consume it completely.

Because it was only the “Scarlet Flame.”

“...He even wields the power of the Flame King? But how?”

Albino laughed louder at the absurdity—and rose to his feet.

The wounds crossing his body slowly began to close. The same happened to the “6th Root.” Charred flesh reached toward itself, stitching together.

Boom—!

The heart of the depths beat once more. The connection restored. The divine chains rejoined.

At that moment, Albino felt him.

The one without a moon.

The man in the black mask.

The man carrying the hope of those wretched heretics.

He still stood in the depths of the abyss, sword raised. There was neither resignation nor fear in his gaze.

But Albino knew.

...This was the limit.

— The limit of human capability.

Whoooosh—!

The regenerated root snapped forward with violent force and struck Gunther. From that heavy blow, his body was flung into the air like a ball. Blood scattered in all directions.

Beneath the overcast sky of the Labyrinth, dozens of despair-filled gazes followed that bloody arc.

— Ah...

The corners of Albino’s lips slowly curled upward. This was the moment he loved most—when false faith and hope vanished, giving way to the inevitable outcome.

In the end, justice and the “correct” always prevailed.

Albino burst into mad laughter.

***

In midair.

Despite the pain tearing his entire body apart, Gunther did not lose consciousness. Through the roaring wind in his ears, he whispered quietly:

— ...I won.