Surviving without God

Edad Camaril’s true fate... the ending that awaited him, had Gunther not intervened, was this: pursuing the source of the infection, he would delve into the industrial district, toward the mills, where he would encounter Audrey, Raymond, and a bishop of the Cult of Healing. And he would die after a brief clash.

No matter how great his swordsmanship, standing against three at once was impossible. It was an inevitable outcome. Torn apart by Audrey’s hands, he would meet his end beneath the millstones, leaving behind not even an intact corpse. Leaving his sick daughter behind, Edad would never have been able to close his eyes in the afterlife.

But now, his fate was changing.

— B-bastard...

The rumble of waterwheels pounded against his ears, yet those words pierced Edad’s mind with startling clarity. It was only natural—“bastard” was the very insult he had reacted to painfully his entire life. Though since becoming an agent of the Public Security Bureau, no one had dared call him that to his face.

“What kind of lunatic...”

Feeling the steel composure he had forged through years of service waver slightly, Edad turned around. There—

— Heh-heh, finally decided to look, huh?

A white-haired woman in a rabbit mask stood there. No—more precisely, she wasn’t standing. She was floating in the air. Edad looked her over and, for a moment, lost the ability to speak. 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

— What the hell is this...

The uninvited guest didn’t just look strange—she looked outright provocative. Beneath her feet, humming steadily, vibrated a transparent floating platform.

Seren Gless—an autonomous combat shield with a flight function. But now it was draped in festival garlands and decorations, making it look more like some mystical ritual tool than a weapon.

Moreover, through the slits of the mask, half-lidded eyes could be seen. Translucent pupils framed by pale lids radiated a strange, almost divine aura.

Gunther had calculated this image precisely. A prophetess, a shaman... a mysterious being with traces of Korean shamanism. And fortunately, this unusual performance seemed to have worked on Edad. He stared at her, stunned, completely forgetting the insult from moments ago.

— ...Who the hell are you?

Blanc Ibel delivered the prepared line:

— Who am I? I am a savior who has come from the distant Border City to protect an unfortunate father and daughter—and all of Valloren.

Before she could even finish, Edad reacted instantly. His sword flashed into his hand, aimed at her.

An unknown figure who knew his daughter was sick—this was extremely suspicious.

However, Blanc did not retreat. On the contrary, she stepped forward and snapped:

— You point your blade at me? Fool, you don’t even understand what matters most right now!

...Complete immersion in the role. Before Edad could interject, Blanc continued:

— Do you intend to leave the child with the same scars you went through? Can’t you see that if this continues, you’ll lose everything before you even get the chance to apologize?

— How do you... how do you know that...

This wasn’t just knowledge of his daughter’s illness. The words struck precisely, piercing straight through Edad’s core.

In the mind of the shaken agent, a piece of information surfaced: today, operatives from the secret organization Night Raven were supposed to arrive in the capital, Zeros, from the Border City.

Everything matched—from the mask to the general description. The tip of Edad’s sword lowered slightly. No matter how all-knowing the Bureau was, it knew little about secret societies from distant lands. Only their brilliant achievements and their desperate will, allowing them to fight Luthien even while outnumbered.

“...Could such groups really possess foresight?”

Blanc’s voice rang out again, low and heavy:

— High fever, convulsions, the stench of a rotting corpse, and complete loss of appetite. This is no ordinary illness. It is a trace left by the Cult of Healing of Luthien.

At this point, Edad had no choice but to believe. The idea that they had come here not by chance, but after sensing something wrong in the capital, seemed far more plausible. His suspicions didn’t vanish entirely, but in his situation, he had to grasp at any straw.

— ...What do you want from me?

Blanc answered with solemn grandeur:

— Your role is extremely important. To save the capital and your daughter’s life, you must act quickly.

She turned sharply, gesturing for him to follow.

— First... we deal with the rat.

Edad looked at her slender back with doubt, but in the end, he sheathed his sword and followed.

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Blanc’s mission “Recruit Edad” — success!

***

A corner of the shelter provided by the Barkel family to Night Raven. Under the watchful eyes of the others, Levain Bernecker slowly began taking out his equipment.

First—a bracelet densely studded with incredibly expensive cores. Then—magical glasses, their lenses flickering with dozens of complex signals. Finally, attention shifted to compact devices attached to his wrists and ankles. Different in shape and size, they hardly resembled anything an ordinary person could recognize.

— I’ll warn you in advance, — Levain said as he adjusted the equipment. — I haven’t done this in a while... I might mess it up.

— “A while”? You’ve been training every night just to surpass Dimona Ryen.

— ...Shut up, Parco.

Many might have forgotten, but his class was not just a rogue. He was an Arcane Runner—someone whose skill had once been acknowledged even within the Labyrinth. A truly rare class. While Dimona was around, there had been no need for him to step forward. But now, the time had come. Gunther, watching, spoke briefly:

— Begin.

The Kingdom of Valloren—a land of knights. Swords and shields, dogma and tradition reigned supreme. Which meant that in the field of magic and magi-technology, they lagged far behind.

As a source of cores, the Border City was untouchable. Valloren relied on importing basic magical devices—lighting, communication, heating—from the neighboring kingdom of Seiran. Which meant...

— I can track them.

It was simple. The equipment of Luthien’s special forces was unlikely to be made in Valloren. Most likely, their devices were created in the Border City—cutting-edge equipment supplied by corporations under Luthien’s control back when they still ruled the city.

— In a place that’s basically a desert of magi-tech, a signal like that will shine like a beacon. That’s them.

The world flipped in Levain’s vision. As arcane-running activated at full capacity, reality peeled away layer by layer, exposing the deeper strata of mana. Faint signals across the city, dull pulses from household devices—and among them, sharp, highly efficient lines of magical communication.

The work was not easy. It wasn’t enough to track them—he had to completely conceal his own presence at the same time. Magical circuits overheated, pressure built in his temples, and sweat poured down his back.

Ryan held a straw to Levain’s lips and smirked:

— If Dimona were here, she’d be done in a second.

— ...What incredible encouragement.

— Always happy to help.

Incidentally, Dimona was currently with the support unit and rushing here at full speed. For now, Levain had to handle all the running alone. The weight of responsibility. Suffocating concentration.

— ......

And finally, a breath of relief escaped Levain’s lips.

— ...Done.

The moment he moved his hand—

Wuuuuuun—

The image from his goggles was transmitted to the others, overlaying their vision. A collective gasp filled the room.

The entire space was filled with dots, dots, dots. Countless signals scattered across the city.

Luthien’s special forces. Especially concentrated around Sector 7. Gunther cursed inwardly.

“No wonder... they could provoke a riot so easily.”

Among them, several points were exchanging signals particularly actively. Clear command nodes—the upper ranks. The points in the industrial district were most likely the bishop of the Cult of Healing controlling Raymond, and Audrey.

Masiu’s location could also... be roughly determined. He would be the brightest point.

— Phew, that’s it for me, — Levain, drenched in sweat, removed his glasses.

Pshhhh—

At that moment, Gunther’s Operate Link, lying on the table, emitted the sound of an incoming call.

[I’ll take it from here, Levain. Excellent work.]

Dimona’s calm voice filled the room, and the faces of those present brightened. It felt as if an entire army had arrived. Direct tracking was only possible through Levain, who was inside the capital—but now that the circuits were connected, Dimona could intervene as well. And she was the strongest Arcane Runner on the continent.

Their communication network was now meaningless. On the contrary, the interference would bind their enemies hand and foot.

[I’m beginning the hack.]

A smile spread across Gunther’s lips.

— Alright, everyone—take your positions!

Levain and Dimona’s mission “Surveillance and Interference” — success!

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— M-mm, I don’t think this is a good idea. Could Graham be wrong?

Feeling an intense glare on her back, Seril whispered this to Servan. He, too, was drenched in cold sweat. Servan glanced behind him and replied quietly:

— ...The die is cast. There’s no turning back.

— The die? Is that some kind of octopus dish?

— Do you think this is the time for jokes?

— Sorry... it just felt too serious, I wanted to lighten the mood...

The “man” they had dragged out in the middle of the night wasn’t even trying to hide his irritation. His heavy breathing grew louder.

Well... it was understandable. Tomorrow morning, he had an extremely important and honorable role—he was to host the Holy Sword Festival.

If not for their long-standing friendship, if they hadn’t grown up like brothers, and if they hadn’t begged him while staking the honor of their families, he would never have left his house at such an hour. But his patience was wearing thin.

— What are you whispering about?! When are you going to explain why you dragged me to a place like this?!

The eldest son of House Arder, the First Family of the Round Table—Albern Arder stood there in ordinary clothes. Unlike his usual dignified and flawless image, his face now showed irritation fitting his age.

— W-well... where are we taking you?

Hearing the question directly, Seril and Servan exchanged glances. No words came. Instead, their gazes shifted in one direction.

...Toward the entrance of Sector 7.

Yes. This was Gunther’s request.

“Bring Sir Albern to Sector 7. That will be enough. This is how we prevent the tragedy in Zeros.”

Seril and Servan were not the type to blindly believe such claims. At least Servan was no fool.

The man who had prevented the theft of the Barkel family relic—the Soul Summoning Sphere. The one who exposed the highly respected judge Krest Royen for colluding with Luthien. Rumors of his deeds in the distant Border City had already reached the capital. And above all, there was the “Affinity Level” accumulated through previous lives.

And this was the result. Albern, Seril, and Servan—the precious heirs of the Round Table—gathered in the middle of the night in Sector 7.

Could the Round Table still choose an isolation tactic now? When the kingdom had no king, and the heir of House Arder—the one effectively acting in the king’s place—was standing at the very center of Sector 7?

Gunther could guarantee it:

“They won’t.”

Seril and Servan’s mission “Force a choice worthy of chivalry” — success.