Surviving without God

The eyes of the platoon members and the rescue team were all fixed on the screen at once.

What unfolded there was something that stubbornly refused to submit to logic, which, to be fair, had become a recurring hobby in this world.

There were three figures on the screen.

Gunther, Remesia, and...

“...What is that... is that supposed to be me?” Cheonmae muttered in visible shock.

The silhouette she was seeing was clearly imitating her.

An archer in armor, with an enormous bow strapped across their back.

Most likely, it was one of Barkel’s knights who had been brainwashed.

Fwoooosh—!

The whistle of air being split came sharply through the transmission.

The drugged archer, bizarrely enough, drew the string and aimed directly at Remesia.

A perfect shot, packed densely with mana.

And yet...

Clang!

Standing some distance away, Gunther flashed forward like lightning, cutting in front of the arrow before it could reach Remesia.

With a single motion, “Line of Despair” knocked the projectile aside.

Remesia stared intently at Gunther, but soon, as if losing interest, she shook her head.

“Again.”

Gunther returned to his position, and the archer nocked another arrow.

Clang!

“Again.”

The same scene.

The same angle.

The same result.

Silence fell over the tent, brought on by this strange repetition.

Tilting her head to the side, Blanc asked cautiously,

“W-what... what the hell are they doing?”

The answer did not come immediately.

No one could decipher Remesia’s intentions at a glance.

They could only watch with blank, baffled expressions as “that day” repeated itself.

Tarsha muttered quietly,

“Hm, maybe it’s reinforcement for the brainwashing? By forcing him to keep protecting her, she’s making the mental control even stronger.”

“Feels like he’s already completely under her control even without that.”

Just as theories began to pile up...

“Ah...!”

Remesia suddenly clutched her head and staggered.

As if something invisible were crushing her brain.

Gunther and the “archer” froze at the exact same moment.

Barely holding back the pain and dragging in ragged breaths, Remesia forced out a low whisper:

“...Teacher?”

Her gaze was unmistakably fixed on Gunther.

But it lasted only an instant.

Soon Remesia stood still with a vacant expression, as if she herself did not understand what she had just said.

She shook her head several times and let out a heavy breath.

“That’s enough.”

A short sentence.

Remesia immediately dismissed the archer and returned with Gunther to the inner castle.

The platoon members watching this sank into even deeper confusion.

“What teacher?”

“Has she lost her mind?”

“...Nothing but riddles.”

At that moment, Dimona, who had been sitting with her eyes closed until now, spoke.

“The important thing is that we’ve confirmed Mr. Gunther is safe. Now let’s figure out the situation inside the castle and the condition of the guards.”

Whatever else it meant—

The fact that the specialized stealth drone had successfully penetrated the inner castle was already an enormous achievement.

Hummmmmm—

Under everyone’s expectant gaze, the drone silently slipped through one of the castle’s open windows.

Quiet corridors and tightly shut room doors.

Dimona spoke in a low voice.

“For now... let’s check the prison.”

***

Gunther met the kindly smile directed at him.

By reflex, he wanted to smile back... but that was not easy.

A feeling of nausea was slowly rising from inside.

“You... have helped us greatly.”

“I’m glad to hear that, if so.”

Masiu set down his teacup and continued in his characteristically gentle tone:

“We all have great expectations for you, Mr. ‘Guide,’ since you volunteered.”

From this short exchange, Gunther managed to extract more information than he had expected.

The greatest gain was that he was finally able to precisely determine the true nature of the “Month of Repose,” which until now he had only vaguely guessed at.

“...A Child of the Month of Repose, then.”

Gunther’s gaze shifted to the corner of the room.

To where the “outcast” stood, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

A girl of about ten with chestnut hair. The moment their eyes met, she hurriedly looked away and shrank in on herself... only to start sneaking timid glances at him again.

The children of the Month of Repose.

They were chosen from among the “vessels” who had failed to become Hierarchs.

Of course, not every failed candidate ended up on this path.

In cases like Kate Bellamor, they might be kept within the cult’s structure and assigned other roles.

But children who lacked faith, or in whom flaws were found, were a different matter.

They became “children of the Month of Repose,” and at the end of that period they were offered as sacrifices to a god.

This was how the cult reclaimed the vast resources and energy spent on creating a vessel.

“...Of °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° course, it isn’t only about efficiency.”

Gunther recalled the “abnormal attachment” the children had shown toward Masiu earlier.

There was clearly an element of control here.

The authority to choose the child for the Month of Repose rested in Masiu’s hands.

The structure was designed so that the opinions of “Audrey” and the teachers, including the “Guide,” were taken into account.

To survive, the children were forced to desperately seek the teachers’ attention...

And above all, Masiu’s affection.

“Even after becoming Hierarchs... their psychology probably wouldn’t change much.”

A truly cruel system.

Hierarchs were not those chosen by a god.

They were beings arbitrarily created by the Archbishop because it was too difficult for him to manage the power he had received in exchange for mass sacrifice.

Because they were unstable and full of variables, places like Audrey House had been created for systematic brainwashing and control.

“So much effort just to leash unsuspecting children.”

At that moment.

Fortunately, just as it was becoming difficult for Gunther to control his expression, Masiu rose from his seat.

“Well then... my schedule is quite full, so I’ll be going.”

“Ah, yes.”

“I’ll be counting on you in the future. Teacher Raymond.”

A hand was extended.

As Gunther shook it, he felt a faint shock run through him.

Because the name that until now had sounded like muffled static finally reached his ears clearly.

“Raymond?”

Naturally, it was the first time he had heard that surname.

But that was not what unsettled him.

“I thought I entered this illusion as Gunther?”

Only then did the strange sense of mismatch begin to slowly wrap itself around his body.

In the nearly untouched teacup, full to the brim, his reflection stared back at him.

Black hair, black eyes.

A young priest with a cold expression.

This was different from Bellamor.

Back then, he had been inserted as a completely new character, Guntra. This time, he had been layered over an already existing identity.

But there was no time to dwell on that difference.

Masiu, as the senior authority here, had already headed for the exit.

Gunther immediately stood and followed him into the corridor.

“Then please take good care of the child until the end of the Month of Repose.”

Leaving that final instruction behind, Masiu disappeared around the corner.

Only he and the girl remained in the hallway.

A thin little voice came from behind him.

“T-teacher. What should I do now?”

Gunther couldn’t answer immediately as he looked at her freckled little face.

...The Guide was the one who, at the end of the Month of Repose, had to personally take the child’s life and offer them as a sacrifice to the god.

And despite that, the girl standing before him looked, strangely enough, happy.

The reason was obvious.

The long “process of repose.”

It was said that the ritual was far more stable when the victim did not resist, but instead entered a state of acceptance.

For that purpose, a system of complete isolation had been devised.

That is, the status of “outcast.”

For a girl surviving in that nightmarish loneliness, the appearance of the Guide, the only being she was allowed to speak with, was equivalent to salvation.

Even if on a subconscious level she understood this was the relationship between butcher and livestock.

The child looked up at him with shining eyes.

The mockery of the Evil Gods echoed in his ears.

[Look at that, a grateful sacrifice. What a stupid animal]

[A beast that kneels on its own stays docile even when they draw blood]

“...Bastards.”

Gunther fought down the urge to immediately scoop up this miserable little girl and vault over the orphanage fence.

But that would be suicide.

This was an illusion of the past.

There was no structure here that allowed him to change things the way he had in Marie’s case.

Because she was not the subject of this illusion.

So now was not the time to give in to emotion.

First of all... he needed information.

“What’s your name?”

“Y-Yuria.”

“Good, Yuria. Can you head to the dormitory for now? Your teacher will come see you later.”

“W-when will you come... Ah, sorry. Sorry! I didn’t mean to rush you..!”

Yuria reflexively asked, then frightened herself and hurriedly bowed her head.

Grinding his teeth, Gunther forced his voice to stay as gentle as possible. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

“It’s alright, nothing’s wrong. I only arrived today, and I need to sort some things out. I’ll come as quickly as I can.”

Children were frighteningly quick at sensing whether the person before them genuinely liked them.

Yuria’s shoulders relaxed a little.

“...Okay.”

Unable to hide her regret, Yuria walked away, glancing back several times.

Suppressing a heavy sigh, Gunther immediately fixed his expression again.

There was no way of knowing who might be watching, or from where.

From the looks of it, the role of Guide here was extremely important.

In any case, the priority was clear.

He needed to contact the other teachers and figure out who this “Raymond” he had inhabited actually was.

Only then could he preserve his “mental life count.”

Rustle—

Just as he was walking through the empty corridor...

Someone suddenly grabbed his arm.

Gunther reflexively tried to resist.

“...What?”

But he was crushed by overwhelming force.

A feeling of pure helplessness he had not experienced in a very long time.

Bang!

He was literally dragged into a room.

Before he could recover, a bright voice rang in his ears:

“Ah, this. Sorry. I’m in a hurry. I won’t get another chance.”

Boom—

Gunther’s heart skipped a beat.

He had definitely heard this voice before.

It sounded slightly younger... but it was the same voice he had always heard through his headset while sitting in front of his old computer...

“Dear god.”

Gunther slowly turned his head.

Golden hair that seemed to have absorbed sunlight itself.

Azure eyes that perfectly captured the color of the sea.

An old wooden sword hung from his waist.

Meeting his gaze, Dominic Wolf gave an awkward nod.

“Uh... I should introduce myself first, right? Hello. I’m Dominic Wolf.”

For some reason, Dominic’s gaze held an inexplicable sympathy and expectation.

Honestly, Gunther was in complete confusion.

The protagonist of this illusionary space was supposed to be Remesia.

So he had expected the story to revolve around her.

And he had assumed Yuria was connected to her somehow.

For example, Yuria might have been Remesia’s best friend, later turned into a sacrifice for the Month of Repose.

Something like that.

He had expected that through this process, he would shake Remesia’s emotions, distort her relationship with Masiu, and create an anomaly in the real world.

And then.

Suddenly, Dominic.

Even so, despite the mountain of questions, Gunther calmed down instantly.

Or rather, he pretended to.

Right now, he was “Teacher.”

Forcing his face still, Gunther said,

“So, Dominic Wolf. What exactly is the meaning of this behavior?”

But Dominic, not the least bit flustered, continued:

“It’s me. About the letter.”

...Words whose meaning was completely impossible to guess.

The moment Gunther frowned, unable to grasp what he meant...

Dominic stepped decisively forward.

“You said you’d help with the escape. Since you came here... can I take that to mean the promise... is still good?”