Surviving without God

The wind blades never flew.

“......”

Gunther froze in the sudden silence that swallowed him. Slowly, he turned his head and looked toward the alley where Blanc was hiding.

Golden eyes fixed on him alone in the darkness. The emotions raging inside them were painfully clear.

Sorrow, guilt. And hurt.

In that instant, Gunther realized: Blanc would never be able to launch a wind blade at him. And that fact mercilessly exposed his own mistake.

“...What kind of order did I just give?”

It felt as though a bucket of ice water had been dumped over him. Gunther inhaled slowly.

Yes, this was wrong. Under the pretext of protecting his comrades. Beneath the noble slogan of saving everyone.

He should never have pushed the people close to him forward, turning them into tools. They were not regressors. The extreme situation had made him forget that. Like an idiot.

In the distance, Blanc’s lips trembled.

“Ah... u-uh... Gunther, I’m sorry... I can’t.”

The words could not be heard across the distance, but he understood what she was saying. She was kind, so of course she was apologizing, even after realizing what he had been trying to make her do. It felt as if a heavy stone had been dropped onto his chest.

Gunther turned toward Blanc. Wanting her to feel no guilt at all, he smiled as brightly as he could.

“It’s all right. I definitely will...”

He never finished.

Crunch—

An invisible giant hand crushed his brain.

An alien force beyond words. Pressure whose weight and direction could not be measured. Only the sound of something being crumpled like paper, then smoothed flat again, over and over, echoed in his ears.

And...

“Ah.”

Everything vanished.

***

The estate, which until then had been frozen beneath the oppression of some presence, instantly filled with noise as if a dam had burst. The moment the Hierarch, radiating that dreadful aura, dropped to her knees and collapsed, the oppressive majesty vanished as though it had never existed.

The people freed from the brainwashing fell into confusion. Some looked around, searching for familiar faces. Others stood in stunned silence, trying to feel out the gaps in their memories. Those who had never been under control in the first place burst into joy at the return of their neighbors and threw themselves into each other’s arms.

By contrast, the faces of the Cult of Repose’s followers turned ashen gray. Even they did not understand what was happening.

Only one thing was clear: the chains of mental control binding the people had snapped. It was obvious that once the joy subsided, the blades of the crowd would turn against them. Not knowing what to do, they could only stare blankly at their Hierarch.

But at that moment, a bizarre laugh rang out, making all the chaos fall silent in an instant.

“Ha-ha-ha... A-ha-ha-ha-ha!..”

The sound came from the fallen Hierarch. The silhouette rose unsteadily. Blue-black pupils filled with pure delight were locked onto the prone Gunther.

“...How, just how can a person like this exist?”

In truth, the Hierarch’s own condition was far from good. Her strength was nearly spent after breaking through Gunther’s mental barrier. Her control over the captured castle was also weakening rapidly. Yet apparently none of those losses mattered to her at all.

Like a child who had just obtained a marvelous new toy and no longer wished to look at the old one, the Hierarch shone with pure intoxicated delight. The sight of childish appearance mixed with twisted innocence left the onlookers with an indescribably heavy feeling.

Shrrk—

The Hierarch was about to step toward Gunther, but at that moment—

“No! No!!”

A desperate scream tore through the air. A sound so full of agony and pain it felt as though the throat itself were ripping apart.

A white silhouette burst out from the alley. It was Blanc.

Stumbling, she ran straight toward the fallen Gunther and touched his chest with trembling fingertips, checking his breathing.

“...Ah, uh...”

The moment she felt Gunther’s chest rising and falling ever so faintly, Blanc let out a convulsive breath. No one would ever know what horrific images had flashed through her mind in those moments... or how deep into the bottom of despair she had sunk.

Meanwhile, Remesia watched this with extreme irritation.

“Your precious comrade has finally found true repose.”

Taking a step forward, she looked down coldly at Blanc.

“Instead of congratulating him, what is this disgraceful scene you’re making?”

“You... You!”

Blanc lost the ability to speak. Her emotions spiraled out of control.

Hatred toward herself for failing to carry out Gunther’s order. Hurt toward Gunther himself for giving such a reckless, incomprehensible command.

And the killing intent that instantly swallowed every other emotion—the hatred for the Hierarch standing before her, the one who had taken everything precious from her. Blanc’s gaze turned crimson.

Whoosh—!

In an instant, a storm wrapped around the girl’s small body. With one explosive burst, she shot upward like a bullet flying toward Remesia.

From shoulder to fist. She loaded the strike with a sharpness beyond anything she had ever displayed in any previous technique.

Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh!

Wrist, shoulder, waist, ankles. Rings of razor wind layered one over another, multiplying the power again and again. A raging vortex strike capable of reducing human flesh to bloody dust from the slightest touch.

The probability of victory or defeat had long since vanished from her thoughts. At any cost, crush the Hierarch before her and reclaim her precious comrades.

Clang—!

However, that frenzied will shattered against a metallic screech, and the shockwave blasted outward in every direction.

“...Ugh... A-a-a-a!”

Blanc let out a beastlike scream. Her path was blocked by immense steel. The greatsword of her former commander, now Gunther’s weapon. The symbol of Fourth Platoon, like a banner beneath which they had fought as a family. The wall that had always protected her and her comrades.

All the warmth and familiarity had become something alien, soaked in killing intent.

“Ah...”

Something collapsed deep inside Blanc. Anger, grief, fear, and the thought that all of this was her fault because she had failed to carry out Gunther’s will surged over her all at once, draining the last of her strength.

Her fighting spirit died.

Even as the massive sword descended toward the crown of her head, she could not move. Blanc closed her eyes.

.

.

.

Pshhhht—!

A familiar sound made her open the eyes she no longer wished to open. Before Blanc unfolded a crackling azure shield of lightning. A magic shield trembling dangerously, continuously showering sparks as it held back the steel. Then a sharp voice cut into her ears:

“Idiot! Pull yourself together! It’s not over yet!!!”

At the same time, a calloused hand caught her by the waist. The Hierarch and Gunther rapidly began to recede into the distance.

“Pa... Parco?”

“Blanc, sorry. You had it rough all alone.”

Parco immediately set Blanc down in front of Tarsha. Bright yellow hair, and a gaze where mischief and tenderness were mixed together. No doubt about it—it was Tarsha.

“Kiddo, sorry. Had to make you sweat it out alone. Our brains got knocked sideways for a second there.”

“...Ta-aarsha.”

Meanwhile, Parco held out Blanc’s shield.

Uuuuun—

Seren Gless let out a low resonance, as if greeting its owner. Parco gave a faint smile, then shook his head and pointed toward the approaching Gunther. His dark face was pale as a sheet.

“...Wow, so this is what it feels like to have Gunther as an enemy. Seriously terrifying.”

The imposing steel armor wrapping his entire body. The Scarlet Flame blazing across the massive two-handed sword. The gaze behind the mask held a coldness they had never seen before. Until now, that coldness had been reserved only for Gunther’s enemies.

Now that merciless image was aimed at them.

Blanc’s heart clenched painfully. The others felt the same. Blood ran down Tarsha’s chin where she had bitten her lip. Parco clenched his fists so tightly that veins bulged across the backs of his hands.

Gunther, their commander. Having lost his shining will, he had turned the point of his sword toward those he valued most.

But Blanc no longer sank into despair or trembled in fear as she once had. Now her comrades were beside her. The very «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» people Gunther believed in more than anyone in the world were standing here.

Together, they would manage somehow. Gunther had surely believed that too. That was why he had smiled like that at the end.

She whispered softly,

“...So what do we do now?!”

At first glance, the battlefield situation had reversed. Their allies who had restored order inside the castle would soon join them. The enemies were in confusion. The Hierarch also looked exhausted.

However, all three instinctively understood. The instincts of veterans who had fought Luthien countless times told them one thing.

The battle could not continue here.

Otherwise, both the path to saving Gunther and the chance to retake the estate without casualties would disappear.

What they needed now was not a reckless clash, but regrouping. A second to breathe.

The eyes of the three met at the same time. No words were needed. The shout burst out on its own:

“We’re out of here!!!!”

“Run, run!”

“Move your asses!”

The Hierarch, savoring the surge of strength she had received as a reward for seizing Gunther, stared at the fleeing trio in stunned disbelief.

“...Ah, what a shame. Just a little bit more.”

She licked her lips, then turned her gaze back toward the castle where the commotion was beginning.

***

And Gunther saw all of this with his own eyes.

Only after confirming that his comrades had safely left the estate did he finally let out a sigh of relief. As the anxiety receded, his clouded mind gradually began to regain clarity.

“So this is how the brainwashing works.”

Gunther raised his head and looked straight ahead. As already said, his field of vision remained unchanged, but control over his body had vanished completely.

They were his eyes, but he could not move them; his vision merely followed the movements as if it were a camera in someone else’s hands. It resembled spectator mode from the days when had been just a “game.” But this was a hundred times more horrifying.

When he had nearly split Blanc’s skull with his own hands... Gunther had felt that horror in every cell of his body.

And at the same time, deep remorse flooded him.

“...I have no excuse.”

He had tried to make Blanc do the same thing.

After all, after regression everything would disappear as if none of it had ever happened. He had made that decision solely from his own position.

The principle of “for the goal, any means is acceptable.” Even the comrades he cherished had been included in that “any.” No matter how hard it was to admit, his order had proven it.

The arrogance he had failed to notice. In the days when he fought with everything on the line, he had unknowingly become soaked in the methods of this world. So this current failure was the fruit of that very arrogance. Blanc was not at fault.

Gunther acknowledged that fact without embellishment.

“...What a bastard I am.”

[Three gods fiercely agree]

...But fortunately, the situation was not absolutely hopeless.

Ding!

Messages he had failed to notice before began to appear in the corner of his vision. And among them was something he had forgotten.

[Blessing of Mari activated]

[Resistance to mental contamination (Madness, Chaos, Despair) greatly increased]

[Probability of removing seed and mental control effects increased]

The seed was not perfect. That meant there was a loophole. And...

[Save Point designation right activated]

[Upon your next death, you will return to the designated Save Point]

The final safety belt he had prepared had locked into place. The reward for defeating Albino in Act 1, Chapter 5 and saving Border City from Luthien’s grasp. Put simply, it was a card that allowed him to nullify any atrocities he might commit in this life while under control.

It was precisely because of that certainty that Gunther had dared the desperate leap into the Barkel estate.

So now his task was simple.

Until the seed was broken, as a Luthien “insider,” he had to see, hear, and record everything possible.

“And then, using this death as the foundation, I’ll take revenge in the next life.”

His gaze followed “Gunther” as he began to move.