Surviving without God

Gunther stood still, letting out a heavy breath. His brows knit together, then loosened, then drew tight again at the bridge of his nose.

“Yes... this is necessary.”

He looked down at his palms. They were trembling noticeably.

But there was no choice. This was the only way to achieve a “complete victory.”

— Gunther?

Gunther turned his head toward the voice. Parco Draven was staring at him, clear anxiety written across his face.

— So... what do I need to do?

By now, most of their allies had already left the hideout to carry out their assignments. The communication network of the Luthien forces had been completely paralyzed. This golden window of time had to be used to accomplish as much as possible.

Only Parco remained. He had been pacing the room restlessly for a long time, and now it seemed difficult for him to even stand still. Gunther studied his face closely before speaking:

— ...You’re worried about the children in the seventh sector?

Parco nodded immediately.

— It’s a horrible disease. The slums are like a sewer, and they say there are children dying in agony everywhere... How can I stay calm?

Gunther had heard how Parco died last time from Blanc Ibel and Yuria inside the Executive Division building. Even after being bitten by an infected, he had continued treating people. In the fight against Masiu Beltirein, he had taken on as many of his comrades’ wounds as he could. In the end, his condition worsened, and as he lay dying, the transformation into a zombie began — Blanc Ibel and Yuria had been forced to kill him with their own hands.

“...A useless idiot.”

Parco had always been like that. He believed he had to be strong enough to endure as much of others’ pain as possible, and he pushed himself every single day with brutal training. It came from a kind heart. But beneath it, there was a certain deficiency — he genuinely believed his own interests should always come last.

“Well... they’re all like that here.”

Parco seemed to misinterpret Gunther’s harsh expression in his own way, and his face darkened.

— Yeah, I know. You said this disease isn’t something I can cure. But still... I’ve studied the Cult of Healing a lot. If it’s me, maybe I can at least ease the symptoms...

— The old you wouldn’t have been capable of it.

At those words, which carried a clear implication, Parco’s shoulders twitched.

— What are you talking about?

What else could it be. Gunther turned his gaze away from him and looked into empty space.

[The One Who Takes and Divides gazes at its contractor with longing]

Gunther knew well the nature of the gods contracted by the members of his platoon. The One Who Takes and Divides was a mid-tier deity — a powerful entity with ancient traditions and many followers, but nowhere near the High Gods. Naturally, it could not directly oppose the divine corruption of Seren Mayra. But...

Clink—clink—clink—

The sound of scattering coins rang in Gunther’s ears.

“What if I invest Karma... into The One Who Takes and Divides?”

The gods called Karma a universal currency.

He didn’t need to form a contract himself. But what if he directed that power solely into amplifying another god’s divinity? If he cultivated that power specifically so it could interfere with the course of the disease?

“Complete healing may be impossible, but slowing its progression or influencing it somehow... that’s realistic.”

In that case, Parco would become the key to buying the time they desperately needed.

If the enemy activated the zombie transformation trigger before the Holy Sword reached Gunther’s hands, everything would collapse. Even if they won, the capital’s streets would be flooded with innocent blood. And that was not a victory Gunther wanted.

[You place “2,000” Karma on the scales]

It was the first time he had invested Karma like this — and in such a massive amount. No precedent. No guarantees. But... there was a chance. And that was enough.

Clink—clink—clink!

The sound of scattering coins exploded into the silence. A clear yet heavy resonance layered upon itself, drowning out all other noise.

— Gun... what is this... what’s happening...

Parco looked completely lost. He was shouting something. And behind him, a blinding white light was already blooming.

— Ha...

Gunther forced his expression into the most dignified shape he could manage — or rather, pretended he didn’t regret what he had just spent — and spoke:

— Go, Parco.

Parco’s brows trembled.

— Go and save the children.

A human artificially elevating divine power — something completely beyond reason. But Parco didn’t ask a single unnecessary question about the impossible scene before him. His face simply became the brightest Gunther had ever seen.

— Thank you, Gunther.

.

.

.

Ding!

[Chivalry is not the blade that proves victory, but the choice not to turn away from those abandoned by fate.]

[Actions aligning with the path of chivalry have been observed]

[Chivalry Level has increased to “1”]

Gunther read the message and let out a quiet breath. A rather meager reward for two thousand Karma. Still, better than nothing. Because from this point on, he would be heading to the most dangerous battlefield.

Rustle.

Gunther cast one last glance at the screen in the hideout, where countless points flickered. Then he turned away without a word.

***

The Luthien special unit had already infiltrated the Holy Capital from all sides.

From ordinary tourists visiting for the festival, to merchants and hired swordsmen. Some of them had even been born and raised in Valloren. After undergoing brainwashing by the Cult of Repose, they had become impartial eyes and ears, tirelessly observing the capital.

And today, their senses were sharpened to the extreme. Because in the middle of a critical operation, uninvited guests had interfered — Night Raven.

The organization’s reputation as a dangerous group had been growing ever since the Audrey House incident, and recently they had become the worst of heretics by defeating Archbishop Albino Lacreta himself. On top of that, on their way here, they had even eliminated their ally, Krest Royen.

So from the moment Night Raven stepped into the capital, the special unit’s attention never left them.

— Just as expected, they’re crawling all over the place. Filthy heretics.

— They must have come to disrupt the sacred festival.

The commander reviewing their routes and contacts frowned.

— ...We need to report this immediately.

Some of them were heading straight toward the seventh sector — the key zone of the operation. The report was sent to higher command without delay.

...And ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) they had no idea that Dimona Ryen was intercepting every word. Through her, Gunther was watching exactly the movement he had predicted.

Plan B. The choice to plunge the entire capital into chaos through a “plant” embedded within the Public Security Bureau. However...

— No response from the Bureau.

— What? Did those Night Raven rats take them out?

— Doesn’t seem like it. Looks like he just isn’t wearing the communication device.

— Damn it, he was told not to take it off even for a second! At a time like this...!

The embedded Bureau agent could only be pitied. The communication hadn’t been cut by his mistake, but by Dimona’s interference.

It was an obvious oversight.

At the moment, all Arcane Runners under the Luthien Theocracy had been tied up in border cities, retrieving the legacy left behind during retreat. Of course, if Dimona had been officially listed among Night Raven’s forces, Luthien would have redeployed at least some of them to Valloren. But she had arrived with the rear guard, and according to Luthien’s intelligence, none of the others possessed “running” capabilities.

...Until recently, arcane running in Night Raven had always been exclusively Dimona’s domain. Levain Bernecker, who was with her, had never needed to reveal his abilities in previous open clashes. How could they have predicted that an unknown individual would display running capabilities, link up with Dimona, and launch a counter-operation?

In any case, with communication now “dead,” they had only one option left. A high-ranking figure who knew the location of the Bureau agent’s hideout would have to go there personally.

— And they don’t even know Lady Blanc is already waiting for them! — Blanc Ibel’s eyes gleamed in the darkness.

The agent’s identity had already been revealed through documents Gunther had seen. Blanc had extracted the location of his hideout from Edad Camaril... and now they were lying in wait nearby.

— Damn it... — meanwhile, Edad wavered between confusion and self-reproach.

He had agreed to cooperate after hearing he could prevent the tragedy threatening his daughter, but once he regained his composure, he realized just how reckless his actions had been. He had revealed a colleague’s location without even knowing who these people really were.

— Are you really sure... that if we wait here, we’ll get proof he’s a spy?

— I told you already! One hundred percent!

— You’re certain?

— Ugh, seriously! Don’t you trust Lady Blanc’s insight?! I even guessed you were a bastard and a terrible father to your daughter!

— ...Can we decide already — is it “I” or “Lady”?

— Just trust me and wait!!! — Blanc snapped, hands on her hips.

Even so, she was starting to feel nervous. Edad hadn’t taken his eyes off her for a second, his hand resting on his sword hilt. If no one appeared, that blade might very well turn on her first...

Rustle—

In the alley, empty due to the height of the festival, footsteps suddenly echoed. A human silhouette, wrapped deeply in robes.

“!”

— ...See? I told you!

“(Shh, quiet!)”

Rustle—

The stranger’s steps were firm. Broad, rough strides, as if the destination had long been decided. The direction was obvious: the safe house where the Bureau agent was hiding.

“......”

But just a few meters before reaching it, the figure suddenly stopped. The alley fell into a suffocating silence.

...Step!

The suspicious figure spun around instantly and dashed back the way they came. Blanc lunged forward reflexively, shouting sharply:

— Fire!

“Fire!” — her voice echoed through the alley, and from the highest nearby point came a chuckle.

— Like I wasn’t going to.

Whi—shh! — the arrow had already left the bowstring.

The “Half-Day Arrow,” an ultimate skill usable only once per day, was still being saved. But this was the strongest strike available at the moment.

— A-a-ah!

As Blanc extended her hand, a sudden gust of wind caught the arrow. Its speed and power increased dramatically. The enemy, turning back, hastily erected a defensive spell. But—

Baaam! — the timing was just slightly off.

It wasn’t a direct hit, but the shockwave shredded the robe to pieces. And beneath it—

“......”

The face of a middle-aged man was revealed, all traces of a smile gone. Narrow, slit-like eyes. A jaw clenched with fury.

Fweeet— Cheonmae let out a whistle from the darkness.

— Oh. Caught a big one.

At that signal, the shadows in the alley moved all at once. On rooftops, behind fences, in windows, at the alley entrance. Night Raven agents revealed themselves from every direction, tightening the encirclement.

— Ha... ha... So it was true.

...Standing at the front was Edad, with the opportunity of a lifetime promotion before him. The device at his ear blinked wildly — reinforcements were already on the way. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

— Oh, it’s teacher.

— I told you I’d tear you apart someday.

Beside him stood Rietta, smiling mysteriously, and Yur, swinging an axe.

“......”

All emotion vanished from Masiu Beltirein’s face. But what they showed was nothing more than recklessness. He had reinforcements too. Thousands of warriors who could tear these pitiful forces apart the moment they arrived.

— Deprived of repose... pitiful creatures.

It was unfortunate that his reunion with his beloved children had turned out like this... but it didn’t matter. He only needed to hold out. And that, he could do.

Wuuuuun— deep blue-black magic circles began to appear one after another behind Masiu.

.

.

.

Grrr— the grinding sound of a mace echoed through the alley.

It wasn’t just metal scraping against stone. It was a low, dragging sound that clawed, pressed, and carved into the ground.

Grrr— the sound spread low and long, appealing not to hearing but to instinct. Like the growl of a beast from the depths of a dark forest, coming from a blind spot. A chilling sound that made one thing clear: the prey had already been chosen.

Those still nearby trembled without knowing why. They simply locked their doors, extinguished their lights, and held their breath in the depths of their homes.

Then suddenly, the sound stopped.

— Huh?

At the entrance of the alley. A silhouette, as if it had been waiting, straightened the moment it saw her. Someone had blocked her path. Openly.

How much time had passed? The Hierarch of Justice briefly took on the expression of a child who had found an interesting toy — then froze.

— You...

Sensing the overwhelming killing intent directed at him, Gunther recalled events from several regressions ago. The moment of the Holy Sword trial.

— It was a veeery carefully planned operation, but this time, it can’t be helped, right?

— How could we pass up the chance to “punish” someone who defies divine limits? That takes priority. As for Masiu, he can go to hell.

The Seven Evil Gods hated Gunther. And when it came to Apostles closely tied to them, Gunther was an absolute target of aggression.

Shrrk— Gunther drew the Straight Line of Despair.

[“Northern Swordsmanship” Lv. 1 has been activated]

So Masiu would not receive his reinforcements. ...If Gunther could hold out.

Gunther gave a faint smile.

— Come at me, walking corpse.

Whi—shh! — the mace surged toward him.