Surviving without God

“You cannot kill me.”

The one who had restrained the flames said it completely calmly. But Zakhar Mordecai, the King of Flame, did not so much as flinch.

Even before this upstart had approached, Zakhar had already understood from the familiar sensation: the man wielded the “Flame of the Rebellious Heavens.” Ever since his companion had died, only he himself and the Society of Holy Flame had been able to control that fire. Which meant the one standing before him was undoubtedly a member of the Society. Another piece of trash that had slipped into the city, taking advantage of the recent chaos.

“If that’s the case — I’ll kill you.”

Even if he had to burn himself in that frenzy, he would strike. Zakhar’s hatred toward the organization to which he had given half his life was blind and absolute.

He lunged forward. His vision flooded with crimson, and within that haze, as always, fragments of the past surfaced.

Blind faith. Luthien made people like that. The days when he, born in a Luthien temple, fought for Luthien and, in Luthien’s name, burned countless heretics. He had never had the chance to believe in anything — he had not even been granted the right to choose “not to believe.”

And then Zakhar learned the truth about the Theocracy. A truth that would have been better never to know. The fact that he had devoted his entire life to serving “evil.” If he had known how cruel the price of that realization would be, he would have chosen to burn out his own eyes and ears.

— Die, blind dog of the Society!

Whoosh!

Tongues of flame collided. The fire erupting from his opponent’s hands was merely “red,” like that of most of the Society’s lackeys. Compared to Zakhar himself, who had once reached the “yellow” level, the enemy was incomparably weaker.

— Kh!

Zakhar pressed forward, and the opponent was helplessly blown back. Hold this for a few more seconds, and the insolent brat would turn into a handful of ash.

But something was off. Zakhar froze for a brief moment.

Fire instinctively awakens terror in people. And yet the face of the young man staring at the raging flames, which should have swallowed him at any moment, remained utterly calm. As if his words — that he was “impossible to kill” — were an absolute truth. On the contrary, the giant standing behind him looked at the spreading fire as though he had seen a ghost.

“...Doesn’t matter.”

Fwoosh!

Without hesitation, Zakhar drove the flames to burn even more fiercely. Heat exploded outward, crashing down on the enemy. But the longer the fight went on, the stronger that strange sense of inconsistency became.

Familiar. Too familiar.

It wasn’t about the outward color or shape of the fire. It was about the way mana circulated within it. The subtlest distortions of flow in that raging heat... It felt as though his own flame were being reflected in a mirror.

Zakhar slowly shook his head.

“...That’s impossible.”

At first, he hadn’t noticed it because of the opponent’s low level of mastery. But now it was obvious. This wasn’t someone who had merely memorized the Society’s imperfect technique. If that were the case, such manipulation would be impossible. What he possessed...

“...How?”

A technique Zakhar had honed alone for ten years in pursuit of revenge, drowning in despair and regret. A secret art known only to himself, never passed on to anyone... Flame of Eternal Torment.

At that moment, like a hallucination, a voice rang in his ears.

The final words of the prophet he had burned with his own hands many years ago, back when he was young and blinded by faith. A memory that, for some reason, refused to fade.

“O fool, worthy only of pity... On the day you encounter the same flame, you will be granted a chance at redemption. Do not miss that moment.”

Zakhar extinguished the fire. And for the first time, truly looked at his opponent. Behind the black mask, clear turquoise eyes met his — eyes without even a trace of fanaticism or blindness. ...A painfully familiar gaze.

Meanwhile, Gunther also extinguished the flames in his hands and straightened.

— Are you willing to talk now?

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Rustle.

After standing in confusion for a while, Zakhar silently gestured to us with his hand. Then, limping, he headed deeper into the ruins.

— Follow me.

Looking at his defenseless back, I couldn’t help but feel disoriented. Of course, I knew that the moment Zakhar recognized the Flame of Eternal Torment, he would immediately stop attacking. After all, his greatest wish was to punish Luthien — who had deceived him and taken everything — with that very fire.

“But he himself cannot complete this technique. That’s why he cannot kill me — the one in whom he sees that potential.”

Yes, that had been the calculation. And yet Zakhar’s reaction was far too unexpected. No hesitation, no visible turmoil. Only a look as if he had been waiting for this day his entire life. Far too dry a response for someone encountering a stranger who wielded his personal secret art. Ryan Parker looked even more confused.

— No, wait...

After taking a few steps, my friend stopped, glancing between me and the old man’s retreating back. A strange expression settled on his face, as though he had realized something.

— You...

Up until now, in battle, I had used Flame of Eternal Torment indirectly — in a form similar to “sword energy.” That meant I had never used pure fire mana in front of my allies.

...Because that method too closely resembled what the Society of Holy Flame used. The very people who had burned Ryan’s home village. The image of flames bursting from their hands, devouring his loved ones, must still be etched into his memory.

— You... don’t tell me you’re...

— ...Seriously? — I cut him off.

— Yeah. That can’t be right. But this is weird! Fine, you, maybe — but that old man... who the hell is he?..

— I’ll explain everything. Let’s follow him first.

Ryan still looked at me with distrust, but in the end, he followed after Zakhar together with me.

Thud.

The place where the old man stopped could hardly be called a home. The walls had partially collapsed, the ceiling was overgrown with black mold. The only advantage compared to the street was that snow didn’t drift in here.

— Come in, — Zakhar said curtly, stepping over the threshold first.

Ryan muttered with a sour expression:

— Uh... I really don’t feel like going in there.

Right. But before entering, there was something I had to do. I slowly turned to Ryan.

— Ryan.

— ...Why are you suddenly so formal?

Noticing the change in my tone, Ryan tensed instantly. Looking at his stern face, I let out a short breath.

“...Yeah, this won’t be easy.”

To be honest, I had long hesitated whether I should bring Ryan face to face with the King of Flame. Zakhar was one of those responsible for the tragedy in his past. But I knew my friend well. And I understood: no matter how painful it would be, he would want to know the “truth.”

I looked into his scenario window again.

[Bond Scenario with Ryan: Judgment of That Day]

“The flames have died down, but the scars of that day have not cooled.”

On that day, a child survived, losing everything. Yet he still does not know who cast the fire that night. And why his family and village became the targets of “judgment.”

[Updated!]

The key to the truth lies with Zakhar. The one who was the head of the Society at the time, and the man who could have personally given the order or been present at the scene. Loosen his tongue and uncover the truth.

Scenario objectives:

1. Hear the truth about the events of the past from Zakhar.

2. Obtain internal records of the Society or testimony from those involved.

3. Help Ryan, who has faced the truth, make a choice and “step over the flames of that day.”

[Ryan Parker’s class and skill awakening potential will change depending on your choice].

That’s right. Ryan still didn’t know the true culprit. Back then, he had only been nine years old. On that night, when the flames rose and screams rang out, he had simply run — run and run away from the burning village.

And that ignorance had, over time, turned into guilt and regret that slowly poisoned his life.

That was why he couldn’t help but want to know the truth of that day.

That was why I had sought out Zakhar today. One reason was his help, including his cultivation technique, but the main goal was to uncover the truth behind that old massacre.

“If Zakhar was the one who carried out that crime...”

In that case, I was prepared to abandon any cooperation with him entirely. No matter what benefits he could offer, I could not ally myself with Ryan’s enemy. Having said that, I lowered my head.

— I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.

— No, wait. So that old man... he’s connected to what happened?.. And what the hell is this Society of Holy Flame? Ha. I’m going to lose my mind. This is too sudden.

— If you ask him about your village, he’ll answer everything he knows. And there’s a high chance he knows all the details.

Zakhar was a sinner paying for his mistakes with the rest of his life. Even knowing Ryan was a victim of the Society, he wouldn’t evade answering.

— ......

Ryan shook his head. His mouth opened soundlessly, then he lowered his head.

— You can listen to him. But if it’s too much — don’t. If you want revenge, I’ll do everything I can to help you. I can give him the most painful end possible. I’ll accept any choice you make.

— I...

Ryan didn’t answer. He simply began walking toward the old man’s shack.

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— Uh... sir.

Zakhar glanced at him with a frown, as if he didn’t understand why Ryan had entered and spoken to him instead of Gunther. Right now, his interest lay only with Gunther — the one spoken of in the “prophecy.” As he thought about how the masked man would become the “key to redemption,” he paid Ryan no attention.

In the silence, Ryan looked the old man over again. The skin visible beneath the robe was covered in inflamed burn scars, and his body was so emaciated from malnutrition it was almost skeletal. Despite the cold, he was barefoot. There was not a single sign that this man took care of himself in any way.

Yes. This was not mere poverty. This was the appearance of someone trapped in a cage of overwhelming guilt and despair, living only to punish himself.

He did not look like someone who could have committed such an atrocity.

— ......

Ryan clenched his teeth and raised his voice:

— Western Badland, the gorge near the red cliffs... a small village of about a hundred people... Do you—do you know it?

The moment he spoke, the old man’s wrinkled eyelids trembled faintly. Only then ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) did his empty eyes turn to Ryan. Something burning stirred within the giant.

— My father was... I mean, the village chief was twice the size of a normal man. There was a lot of salt in the pond nearby, so the air always tasted sharp... When the children ran, white salt dust would fly everywhere...

Zakhar parted his lips:

— I remember.

Ryan froze in place.

— ...What?

— That village where it was said a man with the blood of extinct giants lived. They said a heretical faith was preached there.

Ryan’s face went rigid, turning frighteningly cold. And in the next moment, his emotions exploded like fire.

— You... it was you... YOU!

His voice broke. Then it turned into a frenzied scream.

— You bastard... you son of a bitch!!!

Ryan charged at him. The fact that the old man was strong enough to contend even with Gunther flew completely out of his mind.

— You burned our village, killed my family, my little brother, just a child...

But why? The old man didn’t resist. They both fell onto the filthy floor. Ryan easily knocked him over and straddled him. Then he brought down fists the size of a human head. Without even thinking of using a weapon, he beat the old man, gasping like a wounded beast.

Rip — Zakhar’s robe tore open, revealing a face mangled by burns. Ryan faltered for a moment, remembering his family, who had died under torrents of molten lead and boiling oil. What had their faces looked like?

He survived alone. Completely alone. And now he couldn’t even remember their features.

Thud — the old man did not resist at all. He simply closed his eyes, accepting the raining blows as deserved punishment. Through heavy, pain-filled breathing, he spoke faintly:

— ...If you’re asking whether I personally burned that village... no.

Hearing that voice through the dull sounds of blows, Ryan suddenly stopped his fist. He shouldn’t have been tired so quickly, yet his breathing was ragged, as if he might vomit.

— At that time, the operation in Badland was led by the deputy head of the Society.

— Deputy?..

— By now, he is likely the head. A man named Verion Heinz.

Ryan could tell: the old man’s words were not a confession in hope of forgiveness or mercy. If they were, he would not have added the next line:

— But that changes nothing. I... did the same thing for decades. Do whatever you want. Forgive me.

Ryan raised his fist several times, then lowered it again. In the process, his eyes lost all light. His dry lips trembled:

— Why?..

The old man closed his eyes again and answered:

— Because those above ordered it.

— ......

— I believed it was right.

So the reason Zakhar had lost everything and ended up like this was obvious. He had realized he was wrong — and stopped obeying those “above.”

Hearing that, Ryan didn’t move for a long time. He stared at his bloodied fists with a vacant expression, as though he had turned back into that small child.

But then, something new began to form in the depths of his pupils.

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Ding!

[Ryan Parker has made his “choice”]

[Bond Scenario: Judgment of That Day — Completed]

[Ryan Parker’s worldview has been updated]