Surviving without God

During the height of the festivals, this place would be so packed that the threshold wore down under footsteps—the most popular traditional tavern in the Kingdom of Valloren. To reserve a table here, you had to come half a year in advance with a sack of gold coins, but today the entire establishment belonged to the Night Raven. The tavern owner, out of respect for the heroes (or more precisely, so he could brag about it for the rest of his life), had cleared out the hall completely. In the distant future, that decision would bring him enormous profit, so his foresight could only be called exceptional.

— M-m-m, this is so good!

Parco watched Blanc with warmth as she devoured the free roast suckling pig, cheeks stuffed, then shifted his gaze. Gunther, meanwhile, was leisurely sipping traditional Valloren wine.

— So, — Parco began. — Let’s hear it. Why didn’t you pull the sword yourself and dump it on me instead?

The moment he finished, all eyes immediately turned to Gunther. They were just as curious. Everyone had been certain that Gunther would be the one to grasp the Holy Sword. But he simply shrugged.

— Because you were the one who had to pull it out.

A few days earlier. At the moment when the knights led by Albern and the Barkel twins rushed toward the administrative district, Gunther realized with slight confusion that the Compass was still pointing deeper into the royal palace. The fired-up knights had already left their positions. What business could possibly remain there now?

“I wanted to go to Parco, but...”

A dilemma arose, but the decision came quickly.

— I believed that if it was Parco, he could hold on a little longer.

— O-o-o-oh...

Amid the admiring voices of his comrades, Parco smiled awkwardly and scratched the back of his head with the hilt of the Holy Sword—then immediately stopped when Seril and Servan let out simultaneous heavy sighs.

In any case, back to the memory. Without wasting time, Gunther headed deeper into the palace. To where the Compass pointed. And soon he realized exactly where it was leading him.

“The Round Table?..”

The Round Table was located in the very center of the garden deep within the palace. A space surrounded by finely carved stone galleries and ancient trees. A man sat there.

— I... why is it...

A face on the boundary between maturity and old age. A body that had once been powerful now looked weathered by time like an eroded statue, visibly withered. Gunther recognized him by the crest engraved on his gleaming armor.

Gerard Arder. Head of the First Family of the Round Table. The man who, in the king’s absence, had held the heaviest power in Valloren longer than anyone else. As if stripped of his soul, he clutched something in his hands and muttered into the void. Gunther approached carefully.

— The one who bears the heaviest burden will draw it... she definitely said that... then why...

At first, Gunther thought the old man had gone mad from worry about his son, Albern, whom he had summoned to the castle for safety, only for him to rush straight into the thick of battle anyway. But no. Gunther’s gaze froze on the old man’s hands.

What he held had a far too familiar shape. A transparent crystal, like a glass sphere. As it caught the moonlight, it began to glow faintly, subtle vibrations running within it.

A memory surfaced. Back when Gunther had been brainwashed, he had overheard the Round Table knights speaking. They said that somewhere in the palace, a Tablet was stored. It had been true.

Shurkh—

Gunther unconsciously took a step forward. On the surface of the Round Table, dulled by time, the old man and Gunther’s mask were faintly reflected.

— ...

And yet the old man didn’t even raise his head, though Gunther was already standing right beside him. He continued pouring out his incoherent monologue into the void.

— Wasn’t it me... the one who bore the heaviest burden... I protected this country, I made decisions, I carried responsibility... all of it should have been mine...

Disjointed speech. But within those words lay the weight of decades of power and obsession. Only then did Gunther understand. As soon as the chaos began, this old man had rushed to the Hill of Swords. Interpreting the phrase “the one who bears the heaviest burden” as referring to himself, he had tried to pull the Holy Sword... and failed.

At the same time, it became ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ clear why the Compass had led Gunther here. Who exactly was meant to draw the sword. And why that person had to be Parco, not Gerard.

Thud-thud—

Gunther immediately rushed to Sector Seven. There he found Parco barely alive (after healing everyone in the infirmary, he had stepped outside and collapsed so as not to endanger them), and using a prepared skill—Deicide—he delayed the moment when Seren Mayra’s power would completely consume him.

— And after that, you already know the rest.

Silence fell for a moment. Blanc suddenly jumped to her feet.

— Waaah, applause!

— Parco... you’re insane. I’m proud of you.

— ...This is kind of embarrassing, — Parco said with an awkward smile, scratching his head. — I wasn’t the only one working. My abilities just happened to fit, so I stood out.

At those words, everyone simply shook their heads. Knowing your body is breaking down, knowing you’re stepping onto a path with no return, and still continuing to “carry” the pain of strangers—hardly anyone could do that.

Even the people of the kingdom understood it. So when news spread that the Holy Sword had chosen Parco, no one thought it unfair. If not for him, the wave of zombies from Sector Seven would have already swallowed the capital.

Ahem—

At that moment, Cheonmae, who had been listening silently, spoke.

— Well, one thing remains. It’s time to decide what comes next.

Her gaze fell on the Holy Sword in Parco’s hands. The one who draws the sword becomes the King of Valloren. It might sound like a ridiculous tradition, but over the past few days, they had learned there was nothing absurd about it.

The former leadership had lost trust. Especially the kingdom’s frontline forces were furious. While they had shed blood for the country, the upper echelon had chosen to abandon their families and the people—it was only natural. That anger had now turned into belief and support for those who had truly proven themselves.

Now, if Parco simply chose to, establishing a new order under him would not seem strange. He wouldn’t be able to shoulder everything alone, but there were already many young knights in the capital supporting him. Both legitimacy and the flow of time were on his side.

— I...

Parco parted his lips, about to speak, then froze. In that moment, the entire space seemed to hold its breath. Seril and Servan’s eyelids trembled, and the squad tensed in anticipation.

If a member of the Night Raven became King of Valloren, the benefits to the organization would be unimaginable. Finally, under the weight of countless gazes, Parco spoke decisively.

***

— I expected it... but don’t you regret it? — Gunther asked. Parco glanced slightly over his shoulder. Before the gates of Valloren, endless crowds stood along the stone road.

— Waaah!

Cheers did not cease. Some pressed their hats to their chests, others silently bowed while holding their children. Even the children stopped playing and, imitating the adults, bent their small backs.

“Thank you. Because of you, we lived to see this day.”

Those feelings were conveyed without words. In the very front row was a familiar face. Edad, ignoring everything around him, held his daughter Eva tightly. Beside him, his wife leaned on his arm and carefully waved with both hands.

Parco watched the scene for a moment, then broke into a wide smile. Without a trace of regret, he turned away and looked forward again.

— Not at all.

It would be a lie to say he hadn’t felt tempted. No matter how detached a member of the organization might be from worldly gains, a throne always stirs human desire. But for someone like him, who barely knew Valloren, to sit there... it would have been a bad choice for everyone. And most importantly—

— How would you manage without me?

Gunther snorted.

— That’s true.

The victory in Zeros had been impressive, no doubt. But calling it “complete” would be a stretch. Audrey and Raymond had been defeated. Other members of the strike force had fallen or been captured. However, Masiu and the Apostle of Justice had managed to escape.

Pendrox—the place they would have to infiltrate to save Dominic. If those two joined the forces there, the difficulty would skyrocket. And in that situation, to lose their only healer, Parco?

— Oh no, absolutely not. But I’ll give this back, — Blanc said with exaggerated seriousness as she approached. Something spun on her fingertip. A crown, devoid of excessive ornamentation yet filled with true majesty. With every turn, Seril and Servan’s eyes widened further.

— Please accept it, Your Maaaajesty!

— I graciously accept.

The crown dropped onto Parco’s dreadlocks with a soft clink. Cheonmae, standing nearby, let out a short laugh.

— A king who leaves the capital the very next day after ascending the throne...

And that was exactly it. Parco had not fully refused the throne. He had simply issued a few directives and relinquished actual authority. Support the allied forces during the assault on Pendrox. Establish a Night Raven branch in Zeros. Improve conditions in Sector Seven, and so on. Adjusting the crown, Parco grinned playfully.

— Someday, when this journey is over, I’ll come back here and live the good life.

Then suddenly, with a sharp clang, he drew the Holy Sword.

Fwoosh!

Catching the sunlight, the blade traced a blinding arc. The cheers behind them doubled in volume. Some of the knights standing in the honor guard even wiped away tears.

— Didn’t know you had a flair for showmanship, — Gunther muttered. Parco just shrugged.

— Not really... it just really wanted me to, — he tapped the flat of the blade. The Holy Sword, possessing its own will, vibrated faintly as if in response. A myth-rank weapon packed with defensive, healing, and purification functions—a true cheat item. Thinking of the road ahead, it was reassuring.

— Well then, now that the farewell is over... — Gunther said, taking hold of the reins. — We should pick up the pace. If we want to meet the others on time, we need to hurry.

At that moment, all eyes turned toward a single point beyond the horizon. The Barkel twins and several elite knights chosen as the new king’s escort straightened reflexively. Blanc smiled dreamily.

— I wonder how Tarsha will react when she finds out Parco became king...

Parco grinned.

— She’ll burst out laughing and say the world’s doomed if a freak like me is on the throne.

Their next destination—the Kingdom of Nereus. It was impossible to reach Pendrox by land, and to open a sea route with the Sea Dragon, they had to pass through those lands. And an old friend awaited them there.

“Tarsha...”

A faint ache stirred in his chest. Bright yellow hair and a mischievous smile flashed before his eyes. She wouldn’t remember him. Wouldn’t remember how they fought back to back in the Labyrinth, how they drank bitter wine, exchanged stupid jokes and words of support.

But that was fine. Memories could be made again. Right now, he just wanted to know she was doing well.

— No-!

At Gunther’s signal, everyone kicked off at once. The thunder of hooves rang across the plains, mixing with the clatter of equipment. Behind them, carried away by the wind, the cheers faded.

Clop-clop-clop—

A new adventure awaited them ahead.

.

.

.

At the same time, Nereus.

The storm tore through the sea like something gone mad. Rain lashed sideways, obscuring vision, while waves crashed relentlessly against the hull. Unnatural magical currents churned in the depths.

At the very center of that chaos, a woman with bright yellow hair stood unmoving at the bow of a swaying sailboat. Even before the raging waves, she did not waver for a second, feet firmly planted, eyes fixed on the sea. Though wind and rain whipped her hair across her face, her gaze remained cold and steady.

— Hm-m... — her lips slowly parted. — We’re done for.