Surviving without God

Creak, creak —

Gunther cast a doubtful glance toward the direction indicated by the Compass. The needle did not choose any of the three paths he had been hesitating between.

“...The royal palace?”

Gunther’s gaze fixed on the majestic structure located at the very heart of the capital. A palace rising directly before the Hill of Swords. Despite the festival period, the building—plunged into darkness without a single light—stood out even more because of it. As befitted a place where the King of Knights had once resided, it looked more like a fortress than a palace.

[The King of Ninety-Nine Defeats nods, confirming that this is an accurate description]

[This is because the structure is a reconstructed defensive installation originally built to protect against external enemies]

A place that had stood ownerless for decades. At present, it was closed to outsiders, and access was permitted only to high-ranking individuals, including the Knights of the Round Table.

The problem was why the Compass needle had suddenly pointed there.

Had it sensed a massive flow of Karma? Or was it a warning, urging him to avoid a misfortune that had not yet come?

If it was the latter, then it was worth following. But if it was the former?.. Of course, he desperately needed Karma, but if he missed the moment to help his allies while chasing it... the risk of ruining this entire life was far too great.

“......”

The situation was ambiguous, but as always, the decision had to be made quickly. Gunther burst into motion.

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.

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He ran and ran. A sprint at the very limit of his body. As his breath tightened in his chest, reports poured into his ears without pause.

Psh-sh-sht —

[Gunther, it looks like the enemies have noticed the breach. They’ve shut down most communication devices and switched to an emergency courier system. Pursuit and interference are no longer possible—be careful]

It was Dimona, her voice sounding slightly fatigued.

[Gunther, with support from the Public Security Bureau, we’ve set up a temporary infirmary in Sector Seven. We’re isolating and treating patients with symptoms. Full recovery isn’t possible right now, but we’ll do everything we can to contain the spread of Seren Mayra’s power. By the way, Sir Albern and the Barkel twins were helping us until recently, but they’ve been recalled to the city center]

Through the noise of the infirmary came Parco’s heavy breathing.

[Moonless, do you hear me? It’s Cheonmae. That bastard Masiu suddenly started resisting fiercely. We need a little more time to suppress him! Looks like he’s plotting something, so move carefully!] Cheonmae shouted at the top of her lungs.

...Persistent bastards. They had no intention of going down easily.

Gunther’s thoughts accelerated. He pieced together fragments of information, eliminated possibilities, and narrowed down the remaining paths.

All the while, his body continued to surge forward. Thanks to not sparing mana on movement, he reached the outer wall of the palace faster than expected.

— Ha-a, ha-a...

And at that very moment, Gunther felt something was off.

“Too noisy?”

There were too many people near the outer wall. The clashing of armor. The hurried pounding of footsteps. Shouts and curses rang out from all directions.

The number of knights and soldiers was excessive.

“Why are they all here?”

The Luthien strike force was currently attacking nearby departments and key points. Audrey, Raymond, the Bishop of Healing, and other dangerous enemies were there. Most available forces should have been sent there.

So why? Why was such a powerful formation concentrated at the palace?

“...Could it be...”

Alarm surged sharply. Gunther hurried toward the gates... and soon saw the true picture.

Grrr-rumble —

A defensive line had already been deployed before the gates. Barricades were being dragged into place.

Barriers of spears and shields, hastily piled wreckage of overturned wagons... The knights bustling about in armor bore clearly engraved crests of noble families.

...It was an obvious structure meant to keep people out.

And they weren’t holding back the Luthien strike force. Nor zombies.

They were holding back ordinary people driven here by fear. Women crying and clutching their children, exhausted elderly, junior knights and soldiers thrown into confusion by the collapse of the command system.

Warnings not to cross the barricade line rang out constantly.

“......”

Gunther stopped before them. Something twisted deep in his chest. Shock and anger flared at once. It felt as if Masiu’s mocking voice echoed in his ears:

— We brainwashed them, and they betrayed their chivalry?

— No. People are like this by nature.

— The more they have, the more the only thing they feel the need to protect is themselves.

— That’s why they lose to us, who have cast everything onto the altar of faith.

...This was the work of the heads of the Round Table families. Perhaps they had once been knights, but now they were people in power who couldn’t even remember the last time they had truly drawn their swords. In the end, they had simply cast off responsibility.

To save their own skins, they abandoned the capital, abandoned the people, and hid. Together with their households, their wealth, and the elite troops meant to guard them. Even the tracks along the walls showed how frantically they had been moving. Gunther’s breath caught from outrage.

“I caught the traitors, I restrained Masiu, and it still came to this shit?”

Gunther recalled the past few hours he had spent running like a madman, trying to prevent a “foolish choice.” His teeth ground together.

“Even if they’ve grown soft in the peace of the capital, this is too much...”

It looked as if the blockade that had sealed off Sector Seven in the previous regression had been entirely relocated to the royal palace.

If the situation had been truly catastrophic, if the destruction of the capital had been inevitable, he could have understood. But no. Even if it looked like bloody chaos on the surface, with the Apostle of Justice and bishops rampaging, in reality victory had already been within reach. And yet they chose cowardice and barricaded themselves.

With that single decision, a battle that could have ended in complete victory became unpredictable once again.

“...Damn it. The Holy Sword is probably broken again.”

At that moment, even Gunther’s composure snapped. His comrades were risking their lives, while those meant to bear responsibility hid in the rear, clicking away at calculations. Disappointment in people. A sensation as if his mind went blank for a moment. And just as his thoughts froze and his emotions began to boil—

Psh-sh-sht —

[Gunther, do you hear me? It’s Parco]

Parco’s anxious voice pulled him back to reality.

[The power of Seren Mayra hidden in the patients’ bodies is getting stronger]

[It looks like that “trigger” you mentioned has activated]

Gunther clenched his fists tightly.

[I’m taking as much of the disease onto myself as possible, but I don’t know how much longer I can hold on]

There was guilt in his voice. That only twisted something deeper inside Gunther. ...You’re not the one who should feel guilty.

[What’s the situation in the city center?]

[The Luthien strike force is almost suppressed? The disease hasn’t spread further?]

Questions filled with hope. Gunther suddenly came to his senses. Now was not the time to stand still and be consumed by emotion.

Sector Seven was already critical, not to mention the departments and strategic points. Raymond, the Bishop of Healing, the remnants of the strike force... and above all, Audrey were there. If she chose “self-destruction” again, the situation in the capital would instantly become catastrophic. Hordes of zombies would sweep the city.

— ......

However, Gunther, who had been about to move, froze.

A rare expression of confusion crossed his face. His mind worked at its limit.

“What should I do right now? Break through the barricade and drag out the elite troops hiding inside?”

But no matter how strong he had become, he couldn’t face such an army head-on. On the other hand, if he went alone to the departments, he wouldn’t even buy enough time. And what about Albern? What about the Barkel twins? He had heard they headed to the city center... had they also chosen to hide?

Just as Gunther’s thoughts began to boil over, it ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) happened.

“......”

The faces of the knights and soldiers standing in the cordon suddenly entered his field of view.

Eyes that could not hide their fear. And it was not fear of the approaching threat.

It was fear of themselves, for the choice they were making at this very moment. The terror of realizing that, even if they felt relief standing on the “safe side” without bearing responsibility... that guilt would remain with them for the rest of their lives.

Shuffle—

As if in a trance, Gunther took a step forward.

A massive two-handed sword on his back. Black armor, scorched and dented.

Shuffle—

The crowd, seeing his fearsome appearance, hastily parted. An empty corridor formed before the barricade. And so Gunther stood face to face with the forest of spears and swords blocking his path.

— Clear the way.

Gunther’s voice was not loud. But it rang with terrifying clarity. As if those words were destined to be spoken here and now.

For a moment, silence fell. Soon, a knight who seemed to be the commander stepped forward.

— This is an order of the Round Table, he said with a stiff face. — This is a restricted area. We cannot allow anyone inside without authorization.

— An order, is it... Gunther repeated quietly.

He slowly raised his head. His gaze from beneath the mask moved over the knights behind the barricade one by one. There was neither accusation nor mockery in it. Rather, a question—don’t you already know the answer yourselves?

— Is this what your chivalry is?

— What?..

The knight was momentarily speechless. His face showed it clearly—he had never expected the word “chivalry” to surface in a moment like this. Once, he had believed in its greatness, had taken up the sword because of it, but in the routine of service and orders, the concept had long since faded. Gunther didn’t care.

— If chivalry is nothing more than following orders...

He raised his voice, looking straight into the eyes of those beyond the barricade who were desperately trying to hide their guilt.

— Then anyone can do it. A trained dog could manage just as well.

A suffocating silence fell. In that stillness, Gunther recalled the star-filled night sky, the waves breaking into white foam, and the warmth of a fire beside him. Who would have thought that conversations with gods would come in handy so soon.

[Alphonse of Red Street snickers]

— But choice is different.

— ......

— The choice to fight when you can run. The choice to take responsibility when you can avoid it.

Gunther took another step. The spear tips trembled reflexively, but no one dared to strike.

— The courage to stand on the side of what you believe is right, without looking to orders.

Once again, the words he had spoken to a girl several regressions ago, a girl who no longer existed.

— Isn’t that the foundation of your path... isn’t that the kind of chivalry that has saved this kingdom, built on harsh lands, time and time again?

— ...We...

— I didn’t ask you to open the gates.

— ......

— I said—clear the way. The path you yourselves should walk, out to the people.

A visible stir spread among the knights behind the barricade. Spear tips shook. Shields knocked against each other with dull thuds. Someone lowered their head. Someone bit their lip until it bled.

Gunther watched them silently, then shouted:

— I’m asking! Right here, right now! Is there anyone among you who will not disgrace the name of a knight?!

Silence fell.

It stretched so long that some of the onlookers thought—this was the end.

That the eloquence of this stranger, though it struck the heart, could not convince. That reality could not be changed with such worn-out notions as chivalry.

— There is!

And there, beyond the gates, from an unseen space, a sharp yet noble voice rang out. Every gaze turned reflexively toward the tightly shut palace doors.

Bam!

The locked gates shuddered from within. Metal clanged in protest, hinges howled under strain.

Bam!

Bam!

And finally—

BOOM!

The gates burst open. Wind rushed out, carrying dim light with it. From the opening, spurring her horse, a rider shot forth.

Clop-clop-clop —

She wore ordinary clothes. The hem was disheveled, as if she had just fought her way out of a fierce struggle with those trying to stop her, and above her the banners of Valloren and House Barkel whipped wildly in the wind. The horse’s hooves bit into the stone pavement, closing the distance to the barricade in an instant.

Shuffle—

Strands of silver-gray hair fell across a straight nose and smooth brow. With a kind of fervor, she loudly recited words every one of those present had once memorized:

— Chivalry is not the strength of the hand that holds the sword, but the resolve of the heart that guides it! I, Seril Barkel, swear it by this name and this blade!

Another figure appeared behind her. Looking extremely embarrassed, he continued. It seemed he understood that if he didn’t support his sister, she would never let him hear the end of it... but his heart, too, had softened a little.

— I will not betray my honor. I will not abandon those I am meant to protect. This blade is raised in the name of justice and will always serve the weak...

Seril and Servan pulled their reins, bringing their horses to a halt. And behind them, a knight with a long spear completed the oath:

— And I am ready to pay the full price for it.

Thud-thud-thud —

At that same moment, thick clouds of dust rose from within the palace.

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.

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Ding!

[A forgotten oath resounds once more]

[The chivalry of Valloren answers the call]