Surviving without God

Rule two of the Bay of the Dead.

In this zone, the following emotions are abnormally amplified: guilt, longing, anger, regret. As they intensify, the influence of the zone increases. Suppress your emotions.

Rule three of the Bay of the Dead.

If any of your companions show the following signs, isolate them immediately:

— Talking to themselves.

— Standing by the railing for a long time.

— Suggesting to drop anchor.

— Laughing or crying at inappropriate times.

Do not ask them what they see—knock them out with something heavy instead.

Rule four of the Bay of the Dead.

When the influence of the zone grows strong enough, figures may appear on the surface of the water or on the deck. With high probability, it will be someone from the following: a fallen comrade, a lost family member, or someone you personally killed. Do not reach out to them and do not speak to them. Do not slow down.

(omitted) 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

Rule eight of the Bay of the Dead.

If the bodies of your comrades—or your own—begin to surface in the water, it means the influence of the dead has reached its peak.

If you still retain your sanity, attempt to escape alone immediately. At present, there has not been a single recorded case of a group successfully escaping at this sta—

“No.” Instructions like this, more akin to “campfire horror stories,” would not be of much use to him. He had his own way of breaking through. Gunther clenched his fists tightly.

.

.

.

The air rapidly took on a blood-red hue. With every breath, it felt as if sticky sea fog was seeping deep into his lungs. The Bay of the Dead—one of the worst zones even within the “Black Paths.”

[The King of Ninety-Nine Defeats asks whether this sea is not too harsh for your companions]

[The Drug-Addicted Saint expresses concern. She says that no matter how strong people are, it is difficult to remain firm in the face of loss]

[Alphonse of Red Street nods silently]

[The Ruler of the Oceans says this sea is truly revolting and recalls the clear waters she once inhabited]

Gunther’s face, however, remained expressionless.

He decided to change his approach. There was still a long way ahead. Time was short. This problem could not be solved through “safe clearing” methods. He needed to act more decisively.

“No reason to tremble in fear.”

The rules were simple: the higher the difficulty, the greater the reward. That meant the loot in the Bay of the Dead was on an entirely different level. More importantly, by fulfilling hidden conditions, one could obtain a rare artifact that would prove extremely useful in the later stages of the voyage.

“A true ‘high risk—high reward.’”

It was a principle he had followed ever since arriving in this world, but at some point—when the weight of responsibility had grown heavier—he had begun to forget it.

Gunther chose to gamble. If the others knew, they would be horrified—but there was no other choice. According to his calculations, this was where his chances were highest.

“I can do this. As long as they hold out and the influence doesn’t escalate too quickly.”

Just as Gunther, running through key points of the strategy in his mind, moved toward the helm—

— Little one. Why aren’t you going into the cabin?

The voice came from behind. When he turned, he saw a “bandaged” figure... Zahara, standing at the entrance. Her violet eyes stood out sharply against the blood-red fog.

— I’ll check things outside and head in right away. What about you, senior? Why aren’t you going?

— Me?

For a moment, Gunther felt uneasy. What if she was one of those prideful types who would try to face the anomaly alone? That would be troublesome. Zahara smirked.

— I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not one of those problem cases like Cheonmae.

Her violet eyes narrowed, but there wasn’t a trace of warmth in them.

— Voices of the dead... Do you really think I could resist them? How could a mother ignore the call of her child?

— ...?

Suddenly, Zahara’s expression hardened into something menacing.

— Listen. I have unfinished business. But right now, my life happens to be in your hands.

A short breath.

— I have to survive. Remember my words.

— You will.

— As always... so confident.

She vanished into the cabin in an instant, as if she were a ghost. The others had already taken their positions as well. Their expressions... as expected, were complicated. Each of them could already sense the voices and the dead they were about to face. Gunther called out to the last one remaining.

— Levain.

— Gunther.

When their eyes met, Levain spoke first:

— I know what you’re worried about. Tarsha is caring, but... sometimes she sticks her nose where it doesn’t belong.

Gunther paused for a moment at Levain’s bitter smile.

— Sorry. It came out like I was prying into your past.

Levain let out a light laugh.

— Are we strangers or something? Don’t overthink it. It’s been a long time. That’s just a story from my childhood.

Levain tapped the scar on his neck.

— How many deaths have I seen since then? Do you really think it still gets to me? Honestly... I’ve gotten used to it.

But those words sounded unusually unconvincing coming from Levain.

“Can anyone really get used to that?”

Gunther himself had experienced countless deaths in this world. But that first time... when, as a child, he stood by the bed holding his mother’s cooling hand together with his sister. That feeling couldn’t be compared to any other death.

Levain felt the same.

— ...

But Gunther said nothing. No words of comfort, no encouragement. Instead, he simply patted Levain on the shoulder. That was enough. His comrades were people who wanted to be of use. Excessive sympathy would be an insult.

— Go. Hold out as long as you can.

— ...Alright. You should come in soon too. You said it yourself—it’s more dangerous outside.

— I’ll check things one last time and come in.

Levain disappeared into the cabin without another word. Gunther remained alone on the deck. He scanned the surroundings and—

Bang!

Shut the cabin door and locked it tightly.

“It’s time to begin.”

Gunther had never intended to go below deck.

“To fulfill the hidden condition, at least one person has to remain on deck.”

And so Gunther walked across the empty deck. The blood-red fog, the roaring sea, and the skull-shaped constellation blazing with power all loomed over him.

Of course, he knew that dozens of sailors and companions were right below him in the cabins. But the bone-chilling loneliness of standing alone in this crimson ocean was unavoidable.

“This is the best option.”

The best choice in the worst conditions. Gunther stood at the helm. Fortunately, the owner of this ship had been an exceptional mage. Magical devices were embedded throughout the hull. With precise mana control, it was possible to steer the ship alone for a time.

Ding!

A message appeared at the top of his vision:

[If you survive in this zone for more than two hours, you will enter the open sea]

Waiting it out. The standard method. But Gunther’s instincts told him that was the wrong answer. His companions were people who had lost more than anyone else. Anywhere else, they might endure—but in the Bay of the Dead, they were vulnerable. The influence of death would exceed their limits too quickly. He needed another path.

“For example... a forced breakthrough.”

Break through the mental assaults of the dead, overcome reefs and raging waves, deal with zero visibility and a broken compass, and escape the domain of “death magic.” Anyone would call it madness, but Gunther had his advantages. ...And he had many.

Hummmmmm—

Gunther steadied his breath and raised his mana. Flame of Eternal Torment. He channeled the explosive energy into the propulsion sigils at the base of the ship.

Srrrrrrrr—

At the same time, he activated the Art of the Pure Heart. With clear, transparent mana, he began to finely tune the helm, sails, and stabilizers. Raw, overwhelming power—and delicate control over it.

The ship had to be handled with precision. A wreck here would mean the end.

[The Ruler of the Oceans offers advice on mana control]

At the moment a bead of sweat ran down Gunther’s focused brow—

— ...!

The hair on his body stood on end. His hands on the helm nearly froze by instinct. In a corner of the empty deck, someone stood—a faint silhouette barely visible through the fog. Gunther narrowed his eyes.

“...It’s started.”

Huuuuuu—

A gust of wind briefly parted the fog. He saw familiar ears and a tail. The silhouette of a raccoon beastkin. But it wasn’t Mikhela. The fur was far thicker than that of the one he knew.

[Mikhela...] the dead one called.

[If dirty blood flows in you, you should have bowed your head and lived quietly. I told you that so many times!]

[And in the end, you disgrace our clan by associating with filthy humans... You wretched half-blood raccoon spawn!!!]

The dead one opened its maw wide. Sharp fangs were revealed, and a foul stench burst forth. But Gunther had already averted his gaze.

“The more attention you give them, the clearer they become.”

Even now, he could beat such a dead thing. He could draw his sword and split it in one strike. But the time had not yet come. Gunther clenched his teeth and fixed his focus on the helm and the raging sea.

Splash!

The ship surged forward at tremendous speed. Gunther’s concentration was at its peak. But no matter how hard he tried to look only ahead, humans had peripheral vision. In it, he saw pale figures taking their places on the deck one by one.

“Already this many?”

Earplugs were useless. The influence of death intensified, and the voices began to sound directly in his mind.

[Dimona, run! The hunters are right behind you! Take your brother and go!]

[You must not be captured! Didn’t your mother tell you what would happen if they caught you?! Run!!]

A beautiful elf with long ears.

[Ta-da! Levi, look. What Nuna bought at the market today? Hehe, a book! I don’t know if I picked the right one, but... I spent three days’ wages!]

[Huh? What’s it called? “The Secret Passions of Lady Catherine”? H-hey, give it back right now! Since when did you get so strong??]

There was even a girl who looked strikingly similar to Levain.

[Mother, today the Sultan praised my swordsmanship! He even invited me to dine with him! Hehe, I’ll wear the dress you gave me!]

And even a child with violet eyes in luxurious clothes.

At first, everything was ordinary. Warm, nostalgic scenes. But the voices of the dead quickly twisted.

[It’s all your fault! Did you really not know why the hunters came?]

[Because your Arcane Runner talent awakened!]

[While you’re out here laughing and chatting with new friends at sea, do you know what’s happening to your brother? He’s probably being cut open on an experimental table in Pendrox right now!]

[Ahahahaha! How can you laugh, eat, and sleep? Dimona, you’re incredible!]

The elf screamed, her mouth tearing wide to her ears. Was Dimona seeing the same thing right now?

[Levi, you could have taken us somewhere closer to the magic tower.]

[Coward, you didn’t even avenge us—you just ran away.]

[What changes if you take revenge on Luthien later? We’re already dead!]

What was Levain thinking right now?

[Did you really think I wouldn’t find out that Mother was planning to betray us first?]

[I want you to feel the same pain I felt.]

[Look, this is the incense you liked so much. I’ll pour it generously over your body. It’ll be cold, but endure it—soon it’ll be very hot.]

Gunther understood what wounds Zahara hid beneath her bandages. And it wasn’t just them. The deck filled with the dead who haunted the ordinary sailors—it became as crowded as a marketplace.

“How long has it been? Thirty minutes?”

Gunther glanced at the sky. The skull-shaped constellation had grown brighter and larger. Everything was drenched in crimson. If he had chosen the standard survival method, he would have already admitted defeat in this life and prepared for the next regression. But—

“It’s ready.”

Gunther released the helm. He looked at the messages that had been appearing since the dead emerged.

His “main trump card” had activated.

[Mythical Trait “Godslayer” reacts]

[Resistance to all ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ forms of divine power increases]

He had feared it might not be enough, but fortunately, the stacks of divine resistance possessed by Gunther—who had already slaughtered numerous divine beings—had long surpassed common sense. And most anomalies originated from the power of “gods.” A developed mythical trait was enough to resist. The deities meddling in the “Black Paths” might find it offensive, but that was hardly his concern.

[Attempting to resist the power of an unknown deity enveloping the Bay of the Dead]

[Resistance successful!]

[Resisting the deathly energy (saki) of the manifested dead]

[The Star of the Dead attempts to whisper to you]

[Resistance successful!]

[Resistance successful!]

[Resistance...]

Gunther, having completely released the helm, straightened.

This was a section of the Bay of the Dead with fewer reefs, where the ship could be left unattended for a short time.

— Well then...

Huuuuuu—

A massive two-handed sword appeared in Gunther’s hands. He swept his gaze across the countless dead, then turned toward the cabin door.

— ...

Tightly shut. That was important to confirm. The scene about to unfold would not be something his companions should see—even if it was all illusion.

— Time to rest.

Boom!

Gunther’s body shot across the deck like lightning.

[Levi, you trash! You pathetic coward! I regret ever loving you when you ran away without even taking revenge—]

Crunch!

The dead wailed. The moment he crushed several of their heads—

“...Huh?”

Gunther realized something and immediately grabbed the helm again.

“Could it be...”

If his guess was correct... If the scenario truly followed this path...

For the first time in a long while, a strange feeling stirred deep within his chest. Not fear—anticipation. Gunther’s eyes gleamed.

“Just hold out a little longer.”