Surviving without God

The treatment began outside the village. It unfolded quietly in an open field, far from the dust of the peasants’ huts and beyond the reach of the villagers’ eyes.

Even if all of this had been the result of “brainwashing,” these people had, until recently, been tormenting the village. There was no reason for ordinary residents to witness their recovery—it would only reopen wounds. And for those whose sanity was about to return, unnecessary witnesses to their disgrace would bring nothing but pain. So Gunther, with the help of the platoon’s fighters, moved all the defeated knights and soldiers away from prying eyes.

Unexpectedly, this gesture seemed to earn him a few points in the eyes of Seril Barkel and Servan Barkel.

— Lord Graham... you are remarkably thoughtful.

— Hm, and you are quite delicate about such matters.

— Seril.

— ...?

There was more than enough “Sanity,” the antipsychotic drug. Gunther diluted it according to the formula in his head and called for Parco Draven.

— May I ask you for a favor?

— ...What is it?

— I think it would be more effective if you take this medicine and transmit its effect to them.

The reserves of “Sanity” were still limited. There was no guarantee they would be able to continue obtaining the ingredients in the necessary quantities. In a situation where they had to break through to the center of the Barkel family’s domain as quickly as possible, it was wiser to conserve the drug. If Parco helped—acting as a medium to amplify and spread the effect to those around him—it would allow for enormous savings of resources.

— But if it’s beyond your ability, then it can’t be helped.

— What are you saying? “Beyond my ability”... I can handle it.

Parco nodded without the slightest hesitation. His massive hand firmly grasped the bottle of diluted “Sanity.”

At that moment, all eyes converged on him. Everyone instinctively felt it—the real treatment was beginning.

[The Drug-Addicted Saint shakes her leg in small, restless motions]

[Under the gazes of two gods, she regains her dignified composure]

Gulp—

[The One Who Takes and Divides abruptly opens his eyes]

The next instant, an invisible energy burst from Parco’s body. The flow seeped into the bound, unconscious knights and soldiers. The platoon fighters and members of the Illusion Unit watched, holding their breath.

“...”

At first, it was only a faint tremor. Someone slowly shook their head, someone let out a deep, relieved sigh. Movements like people waking from a long sleep.

Then gradually, very quietly, suppressed minds began to rise from the dark depths.

— W-where am I?..

Someone looked around with clouded eyes. Someone groped for a comrade lying beside them. Someone silently shed tears, overwhelmed by unfamiliar emotions. Confusion still held them, but within that chaos, they were unmistakably finding themselves again.

[The Drug-Addicted Saint covers her smiling lips with her hand]

[Then she spins on her toes. She seems to be in an excellent mood]

[Both gods give a thumbs-up]

[The Ruler of the Oceans laughs softly, recognizing the familiar alchemy] 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

[She asks to pass along to “El” that she is still magnificent]

[The Drug-Addicted Saint slowly moves her hand from her mouth to her eyes]

[Through quiet sobs, the two gods can be heard giggling]

And at that moment, one elderly knight, swaying, managed to rise to his feet.

Step—

Someone darted forward from beside Gunther. It was Seril Barkel. Forgetting her usual restraint and noble dignity, she almost slid to her knees before the knight.

— Sir Aidan! Do you recognize me? It’s Seril. Seril Barkel!

— ...Young lady? What are you doing here?.. No, where are we?..

The old knight, still confused, patted Seril’s shoulder as her eyes filled with tears. She wept in his embrace, then turned and bowed her head toward Gunther.

By that time, most of the other knights and soldiers had already regained consciousness. Although a clear daze still lingered in their eyes... it was unmistakably different from the state they had been in under the brainwashing.

[The Drug-Addicted Saint says she deliberately avoided restoring their memories too vividly]

[She adds that for now it will all feel like a hazy dream, even if that changes later]

“...Because they need to return to combat readiness immediately?”

[The Drug-Addicted Saint nods]

However, their exchange was interrupted.

— U-uh... A-aaah!

From the side came a strange sound, like the howl of a beast. Albern Arder, his visor fully lowered, trembled all over. Gunther looked at him with an expression that said “don’t tell me...”

— ...Sir Albern?

But Albern seemed unable to respond even to being called. The other knights of the Illusion Unit were in a similar state. Not a word left their lips, but their trembling hands spoke for them. Gunther barely suppressed the not-so-polite urge to lift Albern’s visor and instead took a step back.

“...Understandable.”

The brainwashing of the Cult of Repose had been especially cruel toward the knights of the kingdom of Valloren. Knights were not merely warriors. They were people who lived by the oath: “The sword ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) shall not be turned against the weak,” for whom honor was the meaning of life. And those very people had cut down those they were meant to protect. They had spent that time without even understanding what they were doing.

The anger toward the cult that had done this was immense. The compassion for the victims—even greater. But the fear was just as great.

“What if I become like that?” “What if my sword, my oath, collapses under brainwashing?”

But now all of that was dispersing. The brainwashing had been broken, and those who had fallen were reclaiming their names, their memories, their oaths. They had overcome it. Even if someday they themselves fell the same way, there was hope here... hope that everything could be restored.

The knights covered their mouths, unable to believe what they were seeing. Some wiped away tears with their fists. Words were unnecessary. At the moment when a wave of aching joy and overwhelming relief spread among the knights...

Crunch—

Someone’s hand gripped Gunther’s shoulder firmly. Turning around, he saw Albern Arder standing before him, visor tightly lowered.

— I... from this day forward, dissolve the alliance with “Night Raven.”

At those unexpected words from Albern, the faces of the platoon fighters tensed. But Albern, paying no attention, continued in a trembling voice:

— From now on... we are not allies, but brothers and comrades-in-arms. “Night Raven” and Arder will become one.

— ...?

— Lord Graham.

It was the first time. He had called him “Lord.” The man who had once frowned every time Seril or Servan addressed Gunther that way now looked at him with deep respect and gratitude.

— Come here.

Albern brought Gunther forward. The gazes of the recovered soldiers, knights, and the rejoicing Illusion Unit all turned toward him.

— Say a few words at this glorious moment.

...Repaying kindness with trouble. Gunther sighed quietly to himself. This kind of thing was completely against his nature.

But now everyone was looking at him. Gunther exhaled and met those expectant gazes. Then he spoke the words he considered most appropriate for this situation:

— Congratulations to all of you on your victory.

Thunderous applause and cries of joy followed.

.

.

.

Ding!

[Affinity with “Albern Arder” has been unlocked]

[Affinity with “Seril Barkel” has been unlocked]

[Affinity with “Servan Barkel” has been unlocked]

[Chivalry is not merely a sword that strikes on the battlefield, but a hand that raises the fallen]

[Chivalry level has increased to “1”]

***

It took some time for the excitement to fully settle. Meanwhile, Gunther quickly gathered his forces and moved on to the next steps.

First, he ordered the platoon fighters to gather as many ingredients for “Sanity” as possible nearby. Then he sent part of the recovered knights and soldiers along the paths leading back to their villages and estates. This was done so they could assess the damage and personally tend to the fallen.

“Participating in the restoration with their own hands will help stabilize the mental state of those who were brainwashed.”

The cult’s side would most likely assume that everything in those areas was already finished. It would never occur to them that troops freed from brainwashing would return there to provide protection. Besides, Cheonmae had already cleanly eliminated all the surrounding warlocks. It should be safe.

Unexpectedly, Albern, as if to prove that his words about “becoming one” were not empty, silently helped reposition the troops according to Gunther’s instructions. At the same time, he sent messages somewhere. Most likely, he was summoning the other Round Table families that were restoring order on the outskirts of the domain.

Thus, the work of organization, defense, and restoration came to an end. The command of “Night Raven” and the Illusion Unit gathered together once more.

Night fell. The campfire flickered in the wind, scattering sparks in all directions. Albern spoke first.

— What do you plan to do now?

He glanced for a moment at the darkness thickening beyond the fire, then turned his head and continued:

— Do you truly intend, as you said before, to head straight for the center of the Barkel domain?

Gunther nodded silently. Then he slowly raised his gaze to the upper part of his field of vision.

Ding!

[Special Ability: Compass activated]

A translucent compass, visible only to Gunther, spun in the air and then stopped. It unwaveringly pointed toward the center of the Barkel family’s domain. That meant an enormous amount of Karma awaited him there. Gunther had a vague idea of its nature.

— ...Sir Albern, you said that a few days ago, a black barrier suddenly appeared at the center of the Barkel domain... and that those who tried to approach—if their level was low or if they practiced the cultivation technique distributed by the Cult of Repose—instantly lost their sanity?

— That is exactly so.

Gunther let out a short breath and replied:

— Those capable of executing such a large-scale operation without a single precursor can be counted on one hand within the Cult of Repose.

Albern narrowed his eyes.

— It seems you... are quite well-informed about the internal forces of the cult. Impressive.

...Of course I am. Gunther nodded calmly.

— The Archbishop of Repose rarely leaves the Theocracy... which means the one maintaining that barrier is at least at the level of a Diocese Head... or it is an Apostle. Perhaps both.

“Apostle.” At that word, the people of “Night Raven” tensed all at once. In contrast, the knights of the Illusion Unit looked confused. The same was true for Seril and Servan. Servan spoke cautiously:

— ...I am ashamed to admit that we know very little about beings called Apostles. Only that they are incredibly powerful...

Naturally. At this stage, Apostles were not yet beings that frequently revealed themselves to the world. They occupied a special position even within the Luthien Theocracy. After a brief moment of thought on how best to explain, Gunther decided to start with the core.

— You are familiar with the principle: if you offer something to a god, an equivalent reward is granted in return.

— Of course.

Everyone nodded. Although the kingdom of Valloren relied more on training and self-improvement and less on divine contracts, connections with knightly gods were common. The concept of bargaining with gods was not foreign to them.

— Naturally, most rituals are conducted by the Archbishop. He is the believer who most efficiently and rapidly stuffs the bellies of the Seven Evil Gods.

— The Seven Evil Gods...

Several knights groaned quietly. Just ten years ago, the faith of Luthien had been a natural part of daily life in the kingdom. Even now, it was hard to believe that such a familiar religion had, in truth, been the worship of evil gods.

— The problem is that an ordinary human cannot fully bear the burden of such immense rewards for offerings. Within a few years, the power of the god will tear their body apart. But the Archbishop is the symbol of the cult—he cannot simply be replaced. So the cult... chose another solution.

The flames of the campfire wavered. Everyone froze, and someone, as if already sensing the truth, whispered:

— Then...

Gunther nodded.

— Apostles are children with the highest aptitude, selected to have all that “power gained from offerings” poured into their bodies. In the end, Apostles live only a few years at most. Most of them are brainwashed so they will blindly follow the cult’s orders, and in exchange, they gain terrifying, overwhelming power.

Before he could finish, Cheonmae, her expression twisted, added:

— Real monsters. Whatever you imagine, they’ll show you something worse.

Her face carried the look of someone recalling something deeply unpleasant, something beyond words. The knights of the Illusion Unit had already experienced just how strong Cheonmae was. Holding their breath, they listened as Gunther continued.

— And the Apostle of Repose, it’s... how should I put it...

But suddenly, Gunther fell silent. The words caught in his throat, his lips numb on their own. Slowly, he turned his head and looked into the darkness beyond the fire.

For a moment—

It seemed as though the burning campfire went out.

— Why did you stop? Go on.

A quiet chuckle echoed.

— It was getting interesting.