Surviving without God

James, who had lived in a small village on the coast of Nereus, woke to a pain so intense it felt as if his head had been split in two. Memories of events from several days ago rushed through his mind in a torrent. It had been an ordinary evening.

An unremarkable day: he had been sorting out fishing nets soaked in seawater, repairing his boat with salt-stung hands. And yet, one thing had broken the routine. A ship flying the flags of the Blue Blade had approached the village.

The villagers rejoiced. After all, these were the invaluable protectors who guarded the coast from pirates. Children ran around in excitement, while the adults hurried to bring out wine and bread. James, together with his girlfriend, had rushed to the pier as well, just to catch a glimpse of the legendary privateers.

...He should never have done that.

The welcoming cheers turned into screams of terror. They were bound and dragged away. All the villagers... or rather, all except those who were cut down on the spot for trying to resist.

“Damn it... bastards... we should never have trusted those who are, at their core, nothing but pirate scum.”

Trembling from betrayal and despair, unable to contain his rage, James slammed his fists against the ground.

Thud.

“...?”

...His fists?

James looked at his wrists. The shackles were gone. His ankles and waist were free as well.

Even the place where he had been imprisoned seemed different. This was not the damp hold where the beatings and torment had continued without end.

A stone corridor with a ceiling so high it vanished into darkness. The scent of the sea was barely perceptible; instead, there was the cold smell of stone. And most importantly—

—J... James?

Turning his head, he saw Kate, sitting curled up and looking up at him. It was Kate, his girlfriend, whom he had not seen even once since they were captured. In the village, people pointed at her and called her a stuttering orphan, but to him, she was the most precious person in the world.

—Kate!

The moment he pulled her into his arms, a flash of intuition pierced James like lightning.

“There won’t be another chance.”

Whether it was someone’s design or a mistake didn’t matter — it was an opportunity. James grabbed Kate’s hand.

—Kate, get up, quickly!

There was no telling when the guards would burst in. Thinking could come later. First, they had to escape.

Tap-tap-tap—

As they ran, gasping for breath, images of home surfaced in their minds. The crimson sunset on the horizon. Smiling faces framed by fishing nets. Days that weren’t rich, but still brought happiness. Those hours during stormy weather when there was no need to go out to work, when he could hold Kate close and sleep long and sweet.

They would return. No matter the cost, they would survive.

Tap-tap, tap-tap.

The footsteps of the two echoed through the long corridor. The path was surprisingly simple. No forks, no dead ends. The corridor stretched straight ahead, as if deliberately guiding them somewhere.

And then — in the distance, light appeared. An exit.

Joy lit up both Kate’s and James’s faces at the same time. Their breathing faltered, their wounds throbbed, but that light pushed all the pain away. They could go back.

...But at that very moment—

Grrr-rum—

With a thunderous sound, the ceiling began to warp.

—Watch out!

Both of them instinctively threw themselves to the ground, rolling away. Had they been even a moment slower, they would have been crushed flat. As always, the moment James regained his senses, the first thing he did was look for Kate. Kate was the one he had to protect.

—K... Kate, are you okay?

—Y... yes. What about you? Are you hurt?

—I’m fine, but this... what the hell is this...

The structure of the corridor had changed. Now they stood in a closed room. Though calling it “closed” might have been an exaggeration. Through a narrow crack, the light from the exit still shone clearly.

—N-no!

—Damn it!

They rushed to the wall, clawing at it until their nails bled, but the barrier didn’t budge.

—J... James, look over there.

Only then did they notice the massive table in the center of the room. But its shape was strange. A deep hollow had been carved into its middle. And on top of it lay two blades, so sharp that just looking at them made the chest tighten.

Rustle, rustle.

Bloody letters began to form in the air.

[When the blood of one of the two fills this hollow, the door will open]

[I swear upon all gods, the path home will be granted]

“......”

Horror. Denial. Silence that refused to process what was happening.

Kate’s hand trembled slightly. But only for a moment. Suddenly, she rushed forward and grabbed the knife first. At that instant, James recoiled in shock.

—I... I’ll let myself be stabbed.

—What? Kate? No!

—I... I’m an orphan. But you need to save your family and return. Y-you have your mother, your father... your little brother.

—No, I...

The words James tried to use to stop her got stuck in his throat. His mind turned white. He wanted to live. That was natural. Completely natural.

But the moment he imagined Kate driving steel into herself, his heart tightened as if in a vise. The thought of her blood filling that hollow stole his breath.

“Does one really have to die in a place like this?”

It felt like a cruel joke. James’s frozen mind creaked back into motion.

“What if I’m the one who gets stabbed?”

Then she would live. But would that truly be the end? Someone as kind as Kate would carry that burden forever. She would be tormented by guilt for the rest of her life.

...As he thought that, a voice he did not recognize spoke.

—James, wouldn’t that be even more terrible for her?

In that case... wouldn’t it be better if he survived?

“No, you lunatic, what are you even thinking?”

To watch Kate die?

—But then I’ll die?

The thought forced its way into his mind. He didn’t even have time to question how strange it was. The whisper had always been there. And hadn’t he known this all along? Of course, he should sacrifice himself...

—What about your parents?

Just as Kate had said, James had a family he needed to support. What should he do...

Pshh—

For James, it became salvation. With that short sound of tearing flesh, his torment ended instantly.

—Ah... ah?

Strength left his body. The blood that burst out like a fountain changed direction midair and, as if guided by some magical will, was drawn into the hollow on the table. Thud. James’s body collapsed onto the floor. Through his fading vision, he saw two things: trembling Kate, and the door slowly opening with a heavy rumble.

—W... why...

The one who asked “why” was not the wounded James. It was Kate. She stood frozen, staring at her fingertips as if unable to believe what she had done. Shock and denial swirled in her eyes. And in that moment, James understood.

“Kate heard it too.”

So he wanted to tell her it was okay. So that she, who would live, would not torment herself over this moment. But his breath failed him.

Tap-tap—

His vision went completely dark, and the last thing he heard was the sound of footsteps rapidly fading away.

.

.

.

Kate ran, gasping for breath.

—Don’t think.

She cut off her thoughts, folded them up, shoved them deep inside.

—Guilt comes later. Right now, survival is what matters.

The fact that she had betrayed James, the truth that she had left behind the corpse of the man who had cared for her and loved her all her life — she pushed it all into the farthest corner of her mind. But the more she tried to suppress it, the tighter her heart squeezed.

—N... no... this isn’t right, why, why did you do that, Kate, why...!

In the end, she broke down. Crying as she ran, choking for air, she burst out onto a sandy shore. There, Kate froze before the “path to salvation.”

—...Ha, ha-ha.

And then laughter burst out uncontrollably. Kate laughed out loud. Like a hysterical fit. She laughed through her tears.

—Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!

The voice that had been in her head from the very beginning laughed along with her.

Before her stood a small boat, barely large enough for a single person. And in front of it, splattered with the blood of their loved ones, stood three villagers with identical expressions, gripping knives in their hands. Only then did Kate seem to understand what this island wanted... and what the demons who had dragged them here desired.

.

.

.

The center of the Sunken Crown. Atop a hill where the sanctuary of the Vanguard of the Dark Night stood, two figures gazed downward.

—Hmm...

Archbishop of Trust Ardel lightly brushed the crimson energy drifting in the air with his fingers. The energy of betrayal, freshly offered as sacrifice, unraveled like a thread, wrapped around his fingertips, then shot up into the sky.

—It must be because they’re nothing but rural trash. The power granted by their betrayal is truly pitiful.

Ardel clicked his tongue.

—To offer such a miserable tribute to Beltrakha... it’s almost embarrassing.

His gaze was fixed on the retreating figure of a fisherman, desperately rowing a fragile boat into the open sea. He would never make it home. Though the waters looked calm, they were in the very heart of the Black Paths. The one who had slaughtered his beloved wife and fellow villagers would find nothing but despair in that endless ocean.

—Well, at least that stuttering girl and her friend were rather amusing.

Archbishop Ardel — the very man who ruled Badland in the Desert Empire and turned the Sultan’s harem into something akin to hell. Now he had come here to lead one of the most important projects in Luthien’s current continental plans.

“The capture of the Sea Dragon.”

He had no intention of falling disgracefully like Archbishop of Repose Masiu. Nor would he be carelessly destroyed like Archbishop of Abundance Silen.

“If this ritual is brought to full completion...”

Beltrakha would manifest in this world. Then the Pope’s favor would be his, and on the day this cursed Shadow World ended, he would claim a place of eternal glory.

—Archbishop.

—Ahem.

Ardel’s sweet reverie was interrupted by Verion Heinz, head of the Society of Holy Flame, who stood beside him with arms crossed, roughly scratching the spot where the “twin brothers’” heads had once been severed.

—So, how many more sacrifices do we need for the ritual to proceed properly? The Black Wind is holding up for now, but the privateers are starting to grow dissatisfied. They say they’re tired of getting their hands dirty.

Ardel tugged at his long white beard that reached down to his navel and answered reluctantly:

—Not enough. We must squeeze out more. Betrayal that is more painful, more difficult — committed by more noble people. Do you understand? Do you understand what I’m saying?

—...I’ve thought this before, but the methods of the Cult of Trust are extremely tiresome.

—And just as effective.

A flicker of irritation crossed Ardel’s face.

—No, what matters more is this: what good is completing the ritual if we don’t have the Great Admiral? When will she finally be found?

—...The search is ongoing. However, the Vanguard of the Dark Night is not cooperating as willingly as expected.

—Is that so? And those scraps of Night Raven supposedly heading here?

Ardel muttered quietly:

—It would have been better if I had ordered them lured here intact. The more high-quality sacrifices, the better.

Night Raven. The moment that name was spoken, Verion’s gaze turned cold. Especially when he recalled the Moonless Guardian, Gunther — a clear wariness flashed in his eyes.

Rustle—

Verion stepped forward, standing beside Ardel. He looked down at the Sunken Crown shrouded in night mist and murmured:

—Who knows... they might already be here.

In response, Ardel let out a thin, giggling laugh devoid of dignity. It was the kind of laugh he only made when he was truly pleased.

—That would be delightful.

The old man’s eyes narrowed.

—I’ll show them a hell they’ve never seen before.

***

Meanwhile, Gunther and his companions safely arrived at Point No.2 — the bay where the Great Admiral was rumored to have been abandoned.

At first glance, it seemed peaceful. But if one lingered and looked closer, it became immediately clear — something was wrong. Beneath the water’s surface, massive shadows drifted slowly. Shapes flickered — impossible to tell whether they were dorsal fins or tentacles. Sea monsters.

And even on the white sand, there was no room for carelessness.

Search parties. Paladins of Luthien in white cloaks crossed the bay, while pirates of the Black Wind combed through everything in groups. A little farther away, sailors of the Blue Blade roamed with bloodshot eyes, searching for their former boss.

...And they had to pass straight through this gathering to find the Great Admiral.

“Concealing this many people with the Red Lantern won’t work.”

Even with Eyes of the Tyrant, the search wouldn’t end quickly. If they delayed and were discovered, a clash with the search party would be inevitable.

At that moment, Zahara, who had remained silent until now, tilted her bandaged head slightly and spoke in a low voice:

—It seems it’s time for me to step in?

For the briefest moment, mana rippled «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» in the shape of bandages.

Everything happened in an instant. A worn leather vest layered itself over Gunther’s tunic, while Rietta’s neat dress transformed into patched pirate clothing.

—Ugh... what a stench! — she grimaced.

Parco’s Holy Sword and Yuria’s axe warped, taking the form of rusted boarding sabers. Mikhela’s ears were neatly concealed beneath a pirate bandana. And on their shoulders and backs, the emblems of the Black Wind naturally appeared. This was no crude imitation. The wear and stains were so precise, it was as if they had spent years plundering under that banner.

And finally — the smell. A distinct pirate stench began to emanate from them: a mix of fish brine, sour rum, blood, and sweat.

—Ugh.

—T-to smell like this...

Zahara smirked beneath her bandages.

—Well?

Gunther looked down at his hands. Rough, cracked skin. Old knife scars. Blackened nails. A faint smile touched his lips.

—Perfect.

Now, only one thing remained.

To walk straight into the heart of the enemy camp.

Rustle—

The footprints of Gunther and his group stretched across the white sand.