Surviving without God

Splash—

A raging wave slammed into the hull, and the vessel tilted sharply to one side. The deck slipped from underfoot, but thanks to the flawless construction of the ship, it quickly regained its balance. Even so, the minor commotion vanished entirely the moment one stepped past the threshold of the cabin.

A cabin prepared for the king’s retinue. The word “comfortable” was wholly insufficient. Fanatical precision permeated every detail — the very possibility of discomfort had been eliminated at the design stage.

Climate-control devices maintaining constant temperature and humidity. Sound-dampening magical spheres absorbing the roar of the waves outside. And luxurious bedding that swallowed you the instant you lay down.

It was a first-class cabin, filled with consideration for those destined for a long voyage.

...And yet, Levain Bernecker couldn’t fall into deep sleep. He had even deliberately opened a textbook on structural arcane mechanics before bed — renowned among scholars as the finest sleeping aid — but to no avail.

— I knew it...

It was the sea. From the very moment he heard that the operation area would be Nereus, a heavy, viscous sense of unease had settled somewhere inside him. But Levain, as always, did not reveal his emotions with so much as a twitch of his face.

“Levain, didn’t I tell you to untangle the nets!”

The soundproofing spheres worked flawlessly, yet in his ears, like a hallucination, a familiar voice echoed.

A poor port village. The smell of fish, tangled nets and ropes. The son of a fisherman.

“My, look at that boy. Is he playing with mana?”

A mage hired onto a fishing vessel noticed his talent when Levain was seven. Memories flashed before his eyes: a letter of recommendation to the Seiran Mage Tower, his family’s overwhelming joy over the scholarship, and the sound of waves on the day of departure.

In truth, Levain had not wanted to leave home. But he understood: if there was one less mouth to feed, his parents, who worked themselves to exhaustion, would have it just a little easier. And his older sister, who had cared for him so gently in place of their always-busy parents, would not have to marry some old rich man as though she were being sold.

“I’m leaving. Live well.”

Many years passed. One dawn, the senior mage — always stern and cold — called Levain over while he struggled with yet another dissertation. A strange expression was frozen on his face.

“Levain... your homeland...”

A cool corridor in the mage tower, the wind howling beyond the window.

“They say it was pirates. I’ll arrange transport. Leave immediately.”

The memories that followed were fragmented.

Smoldering embers. Smoke. Charred masts. Broken oars. A pier stained with dried blood. Familiar faces lying motionless on the ground.

— “Black Wind”... It was the “Black Wind.”

For the people of Nereus, that name sounded worse than a death sentence. The Black Wind pirates. It didn’t take Levain long to learn that some of them were closely tied to Luthien. And that they supplied living sacrifices for the cult’s offerings. In the ruined village, his sister’s body was never found. What had she gone through before she died?

At that point, his imagination always stopped. It had to stop. Otherwise, he would go mad. The more Levain learned about Luthien, the clearer it became what lay beyond the limits of his imagination. Sometimes — very rarely — he even regretted joining Night Raven.

Creak—

Without realizing it, Levain had made his way up to the deck.

The night sea raged. Moonlight trembled in a long path across the water’s surface. ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) The sky was veiled in haze, and the stars drowned in sea fog. In that wavering half-darkness, leaning against the railing, stood a man.

— ...

He was looking somewhere far away, but it was impossible to tell where. A gaze chasing something distant. A faint melancholy was etched onto his face. The entire platoon knew it — sometimes, Gunther Sirhe wore that expression.

To meet a commander you could rely on in moments of inner turmoil — Levain was sincerely glad.

— Oh, Gunther. Out for a walk at this hour?

— ...Levain?

The commander’s gaze focused. Gunther looked him over carefully.

— You look like shit. Bad dream?

Always like this. He noticed the slightest changes in his soldiers. That perceptiveness was the result of constant care for his comrades. He couldn’t be called sociable, but he was a man with a deep heart.

That was why Levain considered Gunther an excellent leader — not only for his abilities. Because of that, the soldiers had gradually recovered from the loss of their previous commander.

— ...Maybe I’m just not used to sleeping in a place like this.

— Hm. That sounds unusually sentimental coming from you.

Levain stepped beside Gunther.

— What about you? Why aren’t you sleeping and just staring at the night sea?

— ...I was thinking about home.

A short answer. Levain exhaled quietly.

— By the way, you said your homeland was—

— Nereus.

Gunther’s face tightened almost imperceptibly. Again. A face that could not be read.

— ...That’s quite far from here.

— Well, Nereus is huge.

— And your home?

— ...Mine is far from here too. Very far.

— I see.

Splash—

A wave struck the hull. Shattered foam flared white for a moment before sinking into darkness. Silence followed. When the sound of the wave faded again, Levain spoke, as if casting his words into the wind.

— You know...

— ...

— Lately, I feel like... there’s hope. That we might be able to end this madness within our lifetime.

Gunther answered instantly.

— ...We will.

— The ones who fought Luthien before us probably couldn’t even imagine that.

In the past, even the word “chance” had been an unforgivable luxury. Luthien had only begun to crack five years ago. Before that, it had been a wall. Anyone who struck it bled — and that was always them, the weak, while the wall remained without a single scratch.

And yet they fought. For parents who had their children taken in the name of divine will. For farmers who starved to death. For children thrown onto laboratory tables.

Levain tightened his grip on the railing.

— People who fought without ever seeing the end, without any chance of victory.

Another wave shattered against the hull. Spray broke the starlight.

— People who faced disasters that never should have fallen upon their already harsh lives.

The image of the fishing village flashed before his eyes again. There were too many calamities brought by Luthien in this world. Tragedies that should never have happened repeated themselves again and again.

— I wish I could show them who we are now. Tell them we made it this far, that Luthien is bleeding too, that maybe the suffering they endured won’t be repeated anymore...

— ...Levain.

— ...Well, it’s dawn and the night sea. Blame the atmosphere.

Levain awkwardly scratched the back of his head and stepped back.

But—

— That’s not it.

He felt it too. The atmosphere had changed.

— ...?

Levain’s gaze pierced into the swirling sea fog. It had grown thicker. Light drowned in the layered vapor, and outlines blurred. But for a moment, he caught a strange fluctuation.

“...A headwind?”

No way. His right hand quickly touched his glasses, and a faint glow spread across the lenses. A thin layer of magic infused the glass, expanding his field of vision. Though inferior to the binoculars he’d left in the cabin, his glasses were still high-grade madogu.

The veil of dense fog slowly began to clear.

...Shadows. Not one. Two, three, four... They filled the entire horizon.

Black-painted hulls slid across the waves, rapidly approaching. A scale impossible to see near the coast. A fleet that could only be encountered in the open ocean.

— This is...

At that moment—

Flap—

The first sail unfurled. Then, as if on cue, sails across the other ships began to spread in a chain reaction.

Clap— Clap—

Pulleys spun, and the furled canvas cascaded downward all at once. Until now, they had kept their sails folded to conceal their presence. They had waited for the moment to strike, only to unleash everything at once and surge forward.

Flap—

The massive sails devoured the wind greedily. It was as if they dragged the night itself behind them.

...And finally, Gunther and Levain could see the flag at the top of the mast. A black vortex.

“...How is this possible?”

Levain’s hands trembled slightly. In these coastal waters, swarming with Nereus privateer fleets under the Great Admiral and ships of the regular navy, the Black Wind dared to act so openly?

— ...

Gunther’s gaze lingered on Levain for a moment. The always-composed mage was now gripped by a strange, almost unnatural agitation. Gunther suspected something, but now was the time for battle.

Gunther’s chest expanded as he drew in the cold sea air.

— Enemy attack!

His shout tore through the sea fog.

— All units, prepare for battle!

.

.

.

Dong! Dong! Dong!

The bell in the watchtower rang with a slight delay. Once, twice, three times. The sound announcing the start of battle.

— To your stations! — All hands, to your stations!

Cabin doors burst open, and sleepy sailors poured onto the deck. Ropes were loosened, bowstrings drawn tight. The deck shook with a thunderous roar — magical cannons were being loaded, gunpowder rammed into artillery. Through the chaos came the captain’s shout:

— Prepare for impact... Damn it, where is His Highness? Protect His Highness first! How dare these godless pirates attack a royal vessel?!

Meanwhile, beyond the fog, the first flash flared.

Ka-boom!

Shells flew one after another.

The ship carrying Gunther and his unit was a top-class war vessel. Though adorned with luxury for distinguished guests, at its core it was a killing machine.

A hull made of special materials. Defensive runes carved into the prow. Mana amplification devices embedded in the masts. Long-range magical cannons and artillery lined along the sides.

...Which meant a surprise attack would not catch them unprepared.

— Deploy the barrier!

A translucent blue veil enveloped the ship. The sea wind bent, and the waves parted slightly. At that very moment, light flashed again beyond the fog.

A blinding flash. A second later — thunder.

Ka-boom!

A shell slammed into the barrier. The magical shield rippled like water, the residual glow scattering into sparks.

— Thirty degrees to starboard! Evasive maneuver!

The helmsman gritted his teeth and spun the wheel. Dodging the barrage, the vessel tilted sharply.

But the enemy was experienced. Black hulls appeared and disappeared in the fog, constantly shifting position. They reemerged again and again like shadows, forcing suppressed sighs from the sailors.

— ...This is strange.

Their movements were unnaturally fast. As if engines were mounted on the ships — even against the current, they lost almost no speed. As though an invisible force pushed them forward. Gunther narrowed his eyes.

— Those sails... That figurehead...

...All divine relics.

[The Hand that bends the currents burst into mad laughter]

[The Master of the bloodstained lighthouse flashed his eyes]

[The Throne above the foam raised its hand]

It was exactly as Levain had said. Black Wind — the oldest pirates. Their power, bolstered by countless treasures dredged from the ocean, surpassed even that of the regular army.

— Open portside gunports! Fire!

The gunports along the warship’s side opened in unison, spewing red magical shells and iron cannonballs. The barrage tore through the fog.

Direct hit! The pirate ship’s barrier flared brightly for a moment, cracks spreading across it. But it did not fully break.

Creak—

In the brief pause as the warship regained balance, the pirate ship fired again. The helmsman clutched the wheel, his face pale.

— Evasive! Evasive!

Watching the scene, Gunther let out a quiet scoff. One thing was clear: Valloren’s fleet lacked real combat experience. They could conduct as many drills and simulations as they wanted, but the moment they faced veteran pirates in dense fog, their helplessness was laid bare. And above all — this was the worst possible matchup.

— ...Looks like there’s nothing we can do? — Blanc Ibel asked.

— Seems that way... — Gunther replied.

Blanc, Rietta, Cheonmae, Levain — aside from these four, capable of long-range attacks and support, the rest of the platoon and knights simply stood on deck, unsure what to do. In close combat, they would undoubtedly win. But the pirate ships did not approach. They refused to close the distance, methodically bombarding them from afar.

— This is still strange. Usually, their goal is to seize loot...

Even as the warship’s magical barrier gradually dimmed, the enemies did not come closer. As if their intention from the beginning was simply to send the vessel to the bottom.

The situation was extremely unfavorable and dangerous. Yet for some reason, calm remained on the faces of the unit. Even Gunther, always serious, leaned casually against the railing with a faint smile. Cheonmae, lazily drawing her bowstring, let out a loud yawn.

— Time to wrap this up already.

And then—

[The One who opened the bloody night revealed himself]

The fog trembled. At first, it seemed like wind. But no. Black dots filled the night sky.

Frrr—

The sound of flapping wings. Hundreds. No, thousands of bats. They cut through the fog, sliced through the gunpowder smoke, and swept over the flags. Noticing this anomaly in the middle of the ocean, the pirate ships, which had been constantly maneuvering, froze.

— What the hell is that...

— F-fuck, something’s wrong!

In a single instant, the bats, as if driven by one will, rushed toward a single point. Above the mast of the flagship, the swarm began to compress rapidly.

Frrr—

They devoured both sight and sound. Black wings intertwined, flesh and shadow merging into one. An ultrasonic scream tore through the night air.

The next moment—

The form exploded and changed. Black fragments scattered, and at the center, a human silhouette emerged. Long crimson hair fluttered in the sea wind. Blood-red eyes gazed down upon the ocean.

Moon Wolf.

The strongest vampire in this world. Against humans, she was a true calamity. Any being with blood in its veins became her prey.

Whsh—

Watching her slowly raise her hand, the members of the platoon waved cheerfully.

— Good luck, Commander!