Surviving without God

...Shhhk.

It was an utterly unreal sight. Gunther and Levain had taken position at the very peak of a sheer cliff in the “Sunken Crown.”

And right there, out of nothingness, Verion appeared. It happened even before the fired magic bullet could reach him. Sensing the trace of the mana projectile from such an enormous distance, he leapt to the source of the shot in a single instant.

...And this was barely a second after Levain had pulled the trigger. What kind of absurd perception and physical capability was that?

— Gunther! Watch out!

But Levain’s reaction was just as instantaneous.

U-u-u-u—

The magic bullet that had already torn through the air and flown past began to tremble faintly. The next moment—

Whoosh—

The projectile abruptly accelerated and twisted sharply midair. Levain’s class — Spell Thief, master of the most bizarre magical formulas. A tracking spell had already been embedded into the bullet. Like a meteor, it curved through the sky and snapped into a sharp turn.

— .......

It seemed Verion hadn’t even considered that the bullet that passed him would come back and strike from behind. The projectile slammed directly into him.

BOOOOM!

A thunderous roar.

A massive explosion shook the cliff, and the summit was swallowed in thick white smoke. The impact rivaled the discharge of a ship’s cannon. Even for Verion, he couldn’t have come out unscathed.

Pshhhhh—

The wind tore the smoke away, revealing a figure with half his face obliterated.

— .......

But neither Gunther, nor Levain, nor the frail girl standing nearby showed any sign of relief.

Far below—

Splurt—

A grotesque sound of tearing flesh echoed. The Sphere of the Ritual of Storm Fusion. Several people fused into it burst apart like balloons.

Rumble—

Yet the blood and chunks of flesh did not fall. Like boiling water turning to vapor, they oxidized into crimson energy and were absorbed into the void.

At that same moment, Verion’s wounds began to writhe. Fragments of flesh twitched and reattached, shattered bones and muscles weaving themselves back together before their eyes. Gunther let out a low groan as half of the face reconstructed as if it had never been destroyed.

“Damage transfer... So this is how it works.”

The in-game description of the Ritual of Storm Fusion surfaced in his memory:

[Heretical ritual constructed around a fragment of Beltracha. It binds multiple followers into a single sphere, forming a massive “collective of sacrifices.”]

[When attacked, damage is not inflicted on the caster, but distributed and transferred to the sacrifices within the sphere.]

[As long as the sphere remains intact, the caster will not fall, even after sustaining fatal wounds.]

(※ However, if the core — the fragment of Beltracha — is destroyed, the ritual collapses immediately.)

A truly fraudulent structure.

An absurd opponent, one that seemed impossible to fight. Verion slowly lifted his head.

— ...Ah.

He whispered quietly:

— So this is it... this feeling of omnipotence. What trivial scraps have I been sensing until now?..

Something gray flashed through his vision. The next instant, Levain’s body flew toward Gunther. His waist was grotesquely twisted backward.

— ......!

The frail girl’s face froze in horror.

Clang—

Levain’s body did not fall off the cliff. The flying figure abruptly halted midair and was dragged back into the void. Only then did the whip extending from Verion’s hand become visible.

Flare—

Engulfed in flames, it writhed like a living creature as it coiled around Levain’s body.

Crack—

As if playing with a toy of fire.

Crack—

The sound of bones breaking. The smell of burning flesh. Levain’s lifeless body dropped like a sack off the cliff.

— .......

Gunther forced himself to breathe, suppressing the boiling emotions in his chest. In any case, “one death” was inevitable. This was a calculated process from the start. If he lost control now, everything would collapse.

— Y-you... froze in fear.

Verion looked at him indifferently and stepped forward.

— I... I truly cannot understand... How, after seeing such power, anyone could still doubt God. R-ridiculous, truly ridiculous.

Whoosh—

Gunther drew the Straight Line of Despair and silently blocked the path to Mikhela.

Crunch—

A sharp crack echoed in his mouth.

[Emergency Ampoule of the Drug-Addicted Saint — Type X has been used!]

[The effects of all active substances are temporarily amplified.]

It had been a long time since he had used full doping. The sensation of boiling blood surged through his entire body.

[“Overdose” has been activated.]

Gunther gave Mikhela a brief nod. She immediately turned and ran.

“...How long can I hold?”

Gunther locked his gaze on Verion. He had fought him once before. Back then, when he borrowed Raymond’s body, Verion had been strong — but still within human limits.

“If not for the Ritual of Storm Fusion... I could still aim for victory.”

But the current Verion was different. A monster that had devoured the power of hundreds. At minimum — an Apostle of Justice. Perhaps something even beyond that. The chance of instant death was overwhelming.

[“Northern Swordsmanship” has been activated.]

Even so, Gunther bet on the fact that Verion would not kill him immediately. The reason lay in the enemy’s nature. A sadistic judge warped by an inferiority complex. The more significant the opponent, the more blatantly his cruelty manifested.

That was how he had treated Raymond, his former academy peer whom he once admired. That was how he acted when he overthrew his former superior — the “King of Flame.”

So Gunther, whose reputation within the Theocracy had risen to the point of being called an “Active Figure,” would never be killed in a single blow.

Whoosh—

At that moment, the tip of Verion’s whip ignited.

Ffff—

Flames surged forward like a dragon’s breath. They were aimed at the fleeing Mikhela. Realizing this, Gunther did not raise his sword — instead, he opened his palm.

U-u-u-u—

[“Flame of Eternal Torment” has been activated.]

The roaring fire was drawn directly into Gunther’s energy channels. Verion’s eyes, which had been certain he would incinerate the frail girl, widened for the first time.

— ...Ha-ha. Y-you... where did you learn that?

Meanwhile, Mikhela was already far away.

— .......

Verion tilted his head in confusion, but soon seemed to reach a conclusion and smirked crookedly.

— S-seems you got involved with that old man. Twisted that senile heretic and extracted his cultivation technique?

The next moment, his gaze darkened dangerously. He realized that Gunther’s “Flame of Eternal Torment” surpassed their own.

— D-Dominic will like this. Another companion will appear in the neighboring cell.

That single sentence clarified everything. Verion had completely abandoned the idea of killing Gunther.

Pendrox. To throw him there, break him, interrogate him for eternity — that was his intention.

For a Regressor, it was the worst possible scenario. A situation where suicide would not be strange at all. But Gunther said nothing.

Whoosh—

He simply swung his sword.

[Karma Penalty: “Miss” effect activated.]

Verion looked at the clumsy strike that didn’t even come close with a baffled expression.

— Have you lost your mind?

— Y-you t-talk too much for a st-stutterer. J-just attack already.

Verion’s face twisted.

— Insolent trash!

Crack—

The whip struck like lightning.

BAM!

Gunther barely managed to block it. A whip against a heavy sword — the difference in mass was obvious, yet it was Gunther who was sent flying. The shock traveled through his arms and spread across his entire body. It was the same impact he felt when he took the Apostle of Justice’s mace head-on.

— Kgh!

Following the recoiling Gunther, Verion whispered:

— I k-know what you crows believe in. What was it called... the Flower of Silence?

A suicide pill.

— D-don’t worry. Did you really think our Society of Holy Flame wouldn’t prepare for that? You won’t even be able to die for your sin against God...

Spitting blood, Gunther muttered:

— Th-that really is terrifying.

— YOU!!!

BAM-BAM-BAM!

The whip came down again and again. Gunther barely managed to shield his vital points, focusing on a single thought.

...The Flower of Silence, created by Sharin. It had always been his support. But not this time. Now, he had something else.

Whistle— Crack— BAM!

If Verion had wanted, Gunther would already be dead. The unbearable pain of torn flesh pierced through him.

“He wants to drag me into Pendrox as a half-dead vegetable.”

But Gunther waited. Endurance — that was what he trusted most in himself.

“It should be about time...”

This was a gamble with no certainty. But after dozens of deaths, he had developed an instinct. The path he had chosen now was correct. He believed it and waited.

And then. Finally, the moment he had been waiting for arrived.

U-u-u-u-u—

At first, it was a faint vibration. So subtle that Verion might have ignored it. But the next instant, he was forced to halt his whip.

— Ha...

The sky above the archipelago... was rippling.

As if the entire sea had been lifted into the heavens — azure circles and waves spread through the air. The sky twisted into strange colors, warping along an invisible curve. If Verion had been from the Border City, he would have understood immediately what this phenomenon meant. But unfortunately, he was not.

— W-what... what have you done?

All he could do was stare at the smiling Gunther and wonder whether to kill him immediately. But it was already too late.

[Skill “Eyes of the Tyrant” Lv. 3 activated.]

Clap—

Gunther’s silhouette vanished before Verion’s eyes. He could only watch in shock as his opponent leapt off the cliff without hesitation.

— ...Madman?

.

.

.

— ...This is madness. Pure madness. Truly.

A coastal cave a few hundred meters away.

Tssss—

Mikhela stared anxiously at the glowing gear-shaped symbol on the back of her hand. Before climbing the cliff, Gunther had clearly said:

— When I give the signal, just open it.

— ...What?

— The door to the Labyrinth dungeon that you guard.

The very door Ellen Beyra had forbidden to open under threat of death. A place where something unknown was sealed — something Gunther had called the “Karma Judge,” though Mikhela herself did not know that.

— Just open it. I’ll take responsibility for the consequences.

If anyone else had said it, Mikhela would never have obeyed. But...

“This feels like back then.”

A sense of déjà vu washed over her. Like the day they defeated Albino, despite it seeming impossible. Like all those times when Gunther’s most insane decisions led to success.

So Mikhela believed. She believed in Gunther. And she opened the Labyrinth door.

U-u-u-u—

But in that moment, even her firm faith wavered.

What stirred behind that door... was something far older than anything she had ever seen. Something utterly incomprehensible.

Mikhela froze as she watched “it” rush toward the summit where Gunther and Verion were.

“What is that... what is that thing...?”

.

.

.

Whoosh—

The sound of air tearing past rang in his ears. The nauseating sensation of falling made his insides rise into his throat.

[The one flying ahead screams in panic that this height is excessive even for her, flapping her wings desperately.]

But Gunther’s mind was unusually calm. Scattered thoughts converged into a single point.

Karma Judge.

Gunther could not say exactly what kind of entity it was. But one thing he knew for certain.

Judge. That name was not just a title — it {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} was its role.

A verdict delivered from somewhere beyond. A punishment assigned from above.

The reason Gunther was pursued by this entity was simple. His Karma debt was too large. And Karma, as he had observed, was a resource that accumulated when one distorted the path the world was originally meant to follow.

In other words... a debt to causality itself.

Then who is the Judge? The creditor.

And that raised a question.

What if, during the execution of that judgment, something stood in its way?

Not just an obstacle. Authority that had descended from outside this world system. The Seven Evil Gods worshiped by Luthien were, ultimately, external deities. In the face of something transcendent that arrived to judge broken causality — if an otherworldly power distorted the laws of this world... the corners of Gunther’s lips lifted faintly.

“Am I really the only target of this judgment?”

Discarding all complicated calculations and assumptions, Gunther aimed for one thing.

Chaos. Using enemy against enemy. Making the Judge crush not only himself, but also the Cult of Trust, Verion, and all these knots of distorted causality gathered here. To earn Karma from it — and at the same time, uncover what this Judge truly was.

Gunther’s eyes gleamed. And—

BOOOOOOM!

With a thunder that froze the soul...

“Ha.”

Gunther realized that part of his calculations had hit perfectly.