Surviving without God

Gunther stopped swinging his sword and grabbed the helm again. Perhaps thanks to the few dead he had just cut down, the oppressive deathly energy around him noticeably weakened. The companions below deck in the cabins had likely managed to catch their breath as well.

“If I wipe them all out here... they won’t appear again.”

It was entirely possible. For the current Gunther, the dead were no longer a threat. However, as always, he stopped himself in time. His characteristic calculation kicked in—to extract the maximum from any situation.

“Let’s wait a little longer... I may never get another chance like this.”

Something worth testing had come to mind.

“The timing is coming.”

Gunther’s gaze swept across the deck. The dead surrounding his companions retreated in unison. Dimona’s mother, Levain’s sister, Zahara’s son, Mikhela’s father.

“...Huh?”

The moment Gunther realized that Tarsha’s dead was not among them—

Whoooooosh—!

A whistling metallic sound cut through the air. Gunther’s head turned involuntarily toward it.

“That sound...”

A heavy resonance produced when something massive—far larger than a standard two-handed sword—was swung through the air. Because of the long groove running along the blade, the metallic ring carried a strange, drawn-out echo.

“...Ha... now this is unexpected.”

Gunther knew that sound. In battle, in training—he had heard it countless times. There was no mistake.

His hand instinctively brushed his back. The “Straight Line of Despair” he had been using until now was still firmly secured. That meant the source of the sound was something else.

Whoooooosh—!

Gunther froze, staring. Within the blood-red fog, a silhouette swung a massive sword. The style was slightly different from his own. Yet the essence of the swordsmanship was the same. A blade meant to protect those behind it.

[You have witnessed swordsmanship comparable to another’s “Extremum”]

[The existing skill reacts to external influence]

That indistinct silhouette was clearly one of the dead. But it was different from the others. It did not wail or scream in resentment at the living. It swung its sword in silence, clearing space by cutting down other dead.

[...They said I would awaken on an unexpected battlefield, and they did not lie]

...Unfortunately, that calm, dry voice was drowned out by the howling of the dead.

“That’s her former platoon commander.”

The loss Tarsha mourned the most. A flicker of curiosity stirred in Gunther’s chest. His squadmates had often said he resembled that person. But there was no time left for close observation.

Creeeak—

A translucent compass began spinning in the air. It was one of the tools Gunther relied on.

In the Bay of the Dead, ordinary navigation did not work. Magnetic north, constellations, maps—everything became useless. But Gunther’s compass was different. It was a gauge that tracked Karma, born from his mysterious trait.

On top of that, he retained memories of clearing this zone multiple times in the game. He knew the general mechanics, reefs, and currents.

“...The end is coming into view.”

What remained was a straightforward course with no major hazards. But before leaving this place, there was something he needed to do. Gunther locked the helm in place—so that no matter what state he fell into, the ship would continue moving straight forward. And then—

[Do you wish to withdraw the power of the Mythical Trait “Godslayer”?]

[※ The effect of divine resistance will also disappear.]

[※ Hostile divine power detected nearby]

He set aside the very power that protected him. High risk—high reward. Gunther wanted to test something.

“The Bay of the Dead reacts to loss.”

His soul belonged to Lee Jonghyeon. But this body belonged to “Gunther.” Which of them would this zone reach for? Would he be able to touch what Gunther had experienced before he inhabited this body?

“Even if it ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) reacts to Lee Jonghyeon... that’s fine.”

There was only one loss that had wounded him the most. If he could touch even a fragment of it... it would give him strength.

Rustle—

The invisible layer covering Gunther’s skin peeled away. Instead of the cold sea breeze, something thicker seeped in.

...Gunther listened to the whisper coming from afar.

Splash—!

The ship raced forward.

.

.

.

Ding—!

[You have successfully survived the special zone “Bay of the Dead”]

[You did not merely endure—you completed navigation and broke through the zone]

[You are the first to clear a section where no records of full crew survival previously existed]

[Hidden conditions fulfilled. A special reward has been prepared in the open zone]

[Deities associated with the sea have taken notice of you after your success in such a dangerous voyage]

***

The weather was far too clear for a place considered part of the Black Paths. The sky was transparent like glass, and the current was calm, like a seaside resort. A few white seagulls circled above the mast, occasionally letting out cries. Even the salt-laden wind felt gentle.

Open waters. A peaceful zone where those who passed the trial of the Black Paths could remain for a limited time. Normal navigation was possible here, so this was the moment to move toward the objective.

Splash—!

At that moment, the air tore open, and a ship appeared. The one who had arrived first and was waiting, a massive bow slung over their shoulder, waved widely.

— Over here!

A wolf-masked figure responded from the bow of another ship. Beside him, a bronze-skinned giant grinned broadly and raised a gleaming sword. The radiance of the Holy Sword, a mythical-grade artifact, mixed with sunlight and scattered across the rippling waves.

— You’re alright, senior!

For those who had just passed through the infamous “Fog of Oblivion,” their faces were far too calm. Then again, given the purifying power of the Holy Sword, they likely hadn’t faced much difficulty.

The two hulls aligned side by side. Parco raised his voice:

— How was it on your end?

— How was it? — Ryan replied, who was in the middle of repairing the deck. — It got a bit creepy when those fanged jellyfish started crawling up. But otherwise, it was fine. We followed everything Gunther said, so no problems.

— Thank god for that. We’re smooth on our side too. Ready to move anytime.

Blanc cut in:

— S-still, let’s at least see Gunther’s face before we go!

Everyone nodded. The three groups would soon split to carry out their respective missions. The situation was tight, but there was time for a brief greeting. ...Then Parco’s attention was caught by something out of place.

— By the way... what is all this?

In the middle of the beautiful sea, things drifted that did not belong. Shipwrecks. Some looked so intact it was unclear why they had sunk; others were reduced to corroded husks. Sailors from the first ship had already climbed onto several and were inspecting their contents.

— My god, this coin... it has to be at least a hundred years old.

— What a haul! Priceless treasures...

— You could buy a whole house in the capital with this!

Cheers erupted from all sides. There was enough wealth here that no one would regret entering the Black Paths. Members of Night Raven were not particularly attached to money by nature. But sailors were different. Since Cheonmae had promised fair distribution, they had no reason to hide their excitement.

— So this is the open-zone reward Gunther mentioned...

Even the Night Raven members couldn’t take their eyes off what lay at the very center of the waters.

— That wreck...

A crimson hull, as if illuminated by its own spotlight. The wood, soaked in blood, emitted a faint glow. Its color did not harmonize with sunlight or sea. It felt isolated, as if the ocean itself avoided it. At a glance—it was extraordinary. Cheonmae shrugged.

— I tried boarding, but the barrier wouldn’t let me. Seems it only allows the one who fulfilled the condition.

— So... Gunther?

— Who else, — Cheonmae’s eyes narrowed. — And here he comes.

Contact with him had been cut for some time, making her uneasy. Now, the tension on her face eased slightly.

Splash—!

The air split open again. A ship shot out like an arrow—clearly moving at high speed. It was Gunther’s ship.

— So that’s the Bay of the Dead...

For a brief moment, through the closing rift, the crimson waters could be seen. A sea the color of diluted blood. Not glowing—but clinging, like slime. The sailors tensed—they would face it themselves if they continued.

— Gunther!

And then something went wrong. Gunther’s ship showed no sign of slowing—it charged straight toward them at full speed.

— H-hey!?

— At that speed... we’ll collide!

— Turn!

Sailors scrambling among the wrecks panicked and rushed back to their ships. Cheonmae, with her sharp vision, immediately understood the cause.

The helm on deck. Gunther’s body was bound with thick ropes, still gripping it tightly. His hands clutched the handles. Mana continued to flow into the propulsion systems.

But his eyes were closed. As if he had lost consciousness.

“You stubborn idiot... what did you do now?”

Questions later. First, stop him.

Creak—

Cheonmae drew her bow without hesitation. The string pulled taut.

— Parco! Get ready!

— Got it!

The moment Parco’s Holy Sword flared with light—

Whistle—!

The first arrow flew. It cleanly severed the auxiliary rope holding the sail. Instantly, the sail twisted, redirecting the wind. The ship’s thrust shifted.

Ding—!

The second arrow. It grazed the bindings around Gunther’s waist, cutting them. The rope unraveled midair.

Crunch—!

The third arrow embedded itself into the side of the helm—right into the lever. The impact forced the wheel to turn, altering the ship’s direction.

Warped sail, lost thrust, forced turn. The massive hull groaned.

— Hold on!

— Everyone down!

Screeeech—!

Right before impact, the angle of the ship shifted sharply. The hull skimmed past the wreckage, sending up a spray of water. The three ships drew dangerously close, carving a wide arc. A moment later, a massive wave crashed into them.

— ...Haa... haa...

Silence.

On the deck where all eyes were fixed, a single figure staggered upright. It was Gunther—regaining consciousness under the purifying effect of the Holy Sword.

— ......

In the Bay of the Dead, when he had deliberately discarded his divine resistance, the dead had appeared. There, he had seen something. Understood something.

The corners of Gunther’s lips twitched faintly. The expression of someone who had returned with an unbelievable truth. But now was not the time to dwell on it.

— ...Prepare.

— ......?

— For battle!

The sailors, who had been staring only at Gunther, flinched and turned sharply. They realized a strange sound was coming from the opposite side.

Pshhh—

The air tore open again. The open zone was a place granted as a reward to those who passed the Black Paths. Which meant others navigating the same sea could enter as well.

It was, quite literally, an “open” zone.

And there were not many roaming the Black Paths right now.

“Black Wind.” Traitors of the “Blue Blade.” Luthien bastards.

The sailors sprang into action. Winches turned, bowstrings tightened, gunports opened.

...Perhaps because of the rush, no one noticed that at the very center of the waters, the crimson hull had begun to slowly turn toward Gunther—without a sound.

Creeeeak—

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.

.

[The Ship of the Dead “Crimson Pearl” has acknowledged its master]

[“Crimson Pearl” is synchronizing with your fleet]