Surviving without God

Verion Heinz fell into thought.

“What are these memories?”

It happened roughly ten seconds before Gunther’s sword pierced his flesh. Even to Verion—who had lived his entire life as a devout believer—something utterly incomprehensible occurred. Memories from a timeline he had never known flooded into his mind, as if someone were forcibly cramming them inside.

“I... died?”

Strange images. There he was, feeling absolute omnipotence through the Ritual of Thunderous Fusion. In that dizzying ecstasy, when it felt as though he had touched divine power... he encountered a being that was a mixture of absolute darkness and blinding white.

And then he was torn apart in its hands like a worthless insect.

Before a power that could not be resisted. In a single instant, he was ripped to pieces, restored, and turned into a bloody mess again.

Hundreds of times. Thousands of times.

That horrifyingly vivid sense of helplessness seared itself into his mind, branding it forever.

For Verion Heinz, it was the most terrible nightmare. After all, he was a man who had devoted his entire life to ensuring that no one would ever trample him again. Born in the slums, having endured every form of contempt and ridicule, he had even slit the throat of his own brother—the only support he had in that hell—just to survive and rise above it.

“Lies... There’s no way I could have lost so pathetically...”

At the moment when Verion’s mind was on the ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ verge of collapsing under the weight of those visions—

Crunch!

Gunther’s greatsword. A devastating strike. Verion felt the lives of dozens of believers connected to him through the fusion ritual go out like candles in the wind. A mortal wound that severed nearly thirty percent of his total power.

—Kh... Kh-a-a-a-a-ah!

But it was precisely because of that pain that Verion managed to regain himself. The foreign memories that had filled his head were pushed into the far corners of his mind by the surge of agony.

In the emptiness that followed, Verion recalled a single phrase. The most famous doctrine from the sacred texts of the Luthien Theocracy.

“This world is but a shadow left behind where the Light has withdrawn. He who is satisfied with the shadow will rot in darkness. But he who yearns for the Light will, in the end, open the gate to the true world.”

...Right. This world was corrupted and distorted from the very beginning. Then there was nothing strange about such absurd and irrational things happening within it.

“Light, my God. Save me.”

To escape this cursed world of shadows and step into the world of true Light, there was only one path—devote oneself tirelessly to God.

And the best way to do that now was to eliminate the heretic... the most terrifying demon the Theocracy had faced in recent times.

“Yes, if not for him!..”

Looking back, all of Luthien’s grand plans had begun to fail precisely when this upstart’s name started appearing in reports. Even the Pope’s prolonged seclusion had been an indirect consequence of his actions.

“I will end this here.”

Scrrrape!

Having made his decision, Verion grabbed the sword protruding from his chest and forcibly pushed it out. Flames devoured his skin as if trying to incinerate him, yet the charred flesh regenerated immediately.

If the Flame of Eternal Torment technique had been complete, things might have been different—but right now, Gunther lacked the power to suppress the divine force being poured into Verion by hundreds of followers. The moment his body was freed—

Whoooosh!

Verion’s other hand whipped forward, unleashing a lash. A whip—even in the hands of an amateur—can easily break the sound barrier. But when wielded by Verion, who possessed transcendent physical strength—

Boom!

The air within dozens of meters literally exploded. Yet Verion felt no impact. Gunther’s silhouette dissolved into shadow and vanished.

“...Rat spawn.”

Pitch-black darkness surrounded them. It was so dense that sight became useless, and Verion pursued his enemy relying solely on his sense of energy.

Shhhhhh—

The tip of the whip trembled like the head of a snake. Like a living creature, it probed the void, hunting for the hidden Gunther.

“Yes... hide until the very end, until I crush you like a bug.”

And just as the noose began to tighten—

Dong...

A strange bell rang out. Neither solemn nor lighthearted—an eerily deep sound. At the same moment, Red Lanterns began to ignite one by one in the black space.

One. Ten. Twenty.

The crimson lights flickered in the darkness like bloodshot eyes. His head spun. It felt as if his consciousness was being dragged away from reality. Gunther’s presence blurred once more. Verion’s eyes flashed with fury.

“Come out.”

His whip tore through the air again.

“Come out, I said!”

But Gunther, using the power of the Red Lanterns, continued to hide. It was more than strange—at first, he had charged into battle as if he intended to decide everything in a single strike.

“...What is this?”

Verion was an extremely experienced man. He had traveled the entire continent, fighting countless heretics and the dreadful deities they worshiped.

So he understood immediately. This darkness and these red lights were nothing less than a unique domain.

Such zones required colossal resources to maintain. They devoured mana endlessly. While active, the owner’s combat power increased dramatically—but the moment the domain collapsed, the user would be left completely exhausted before the enemy.

In a normal situation, someone who deployed such a domain would attack relentlessly, never giving the opponent a chance to breathe. Time here was more valuable than gold.

But this man... he was simply throwing away precious seconds.

He was running. Hiding. Concealing his presence and dragging out time.

“...Why?”

Verion’s brows twitched. Deep inside, an inexplicable sense of foreboding began to rise.

“Why are you doing this?!”

At that moment—

Rustle...

A faint sound. If his senses hadn’t been sharpened to the extreme, he would have missed it. Verion’s face twisted into a predatory grin.

“There you are!”

Without hesitation, Verion lunged toward the sound.

.

.

.

“Why?” ...Because only by dragging out time could he win under these impossible conditions.

In the shadow-covered lowland, Gunther sent a “shadow serpent” in the opposite direction, while he himself moved silently toward his true objective.

“......”

Floating in the air before him was the reward obtained for 5,000 Karma.

Countless messages. A notification that the restraints binding the King of Knights had fallen. A message about changes to the forgotten scenario “Old Is Always Better.” Alerts of explosive growth in the mastery of his existing skills.

And...

A new power. A new technique. Gunther’s gaze stopped on one line.

“This really is...”

He exhaled briefly.

“...a trump card.”

[The King of Ninety-Nine Defeats calmly closes his eyes]

Gunther slowly read the description of the new skill.

[King-Slayer Sword]

Rank: Legendary

Description: In the days when the Executioner of the Apocalypse was still human and fought upon the earth, the continent was overrun with kings who had fallen under the influence of the Luthien Theocracy. They hid behind high walls, praised false gods, and sacrificed their own subjects to preserve their thrones.

...The Executioner of the Apocalypse brought ruin to those kingdoms. With every swing of his sword, another crown rolled into the dust.

Effect: Delivers a devastating slashing strike to a single target. Forcibly pierces any defense and shields, dealing immense damage. If the target is a monarch, commander, or leader, the power of the strike increases significantly.

※ Restriction: 1 use per day.

Divine power was not merely a technique. It contained history. And some abilities were born from the very essence of a deity, from the key moments of its life. “King-Slayer Sword” was exactly such a skill.

Its power was incredible—but more importantly, it was extremely specialized.

And if so, who was the best target?

If Verion Heinz was the general here, then who was the true “commander” on this battlefield?

—Commander Verion! Commander Verion! Are you alive?!

A voice from beyond the veil of darkness. Gunther stopped right in front of it. Here, the darkness was at its thickest.

“Who’s there?! Show yourself!”

Gunther’s gaze fixed on Archbishop Ardel, who stood in complete confusion. The same target as before.

But the situation had changed. Back then, the Judge—a transcendent calamity—had intervened, crushing everything in its path. It was thanks to that chaos that Gunther had managed to carry out the execution. Now, there was no Judge.

Archbishop Ardel—a priest of the 6th hierarchy. Even if he was expending part of his strength to maintain the ritual, he was not someone who could be easily defeated head-on. The slightest mistake—and Gunther would have to fight both Verion and Ardel at once.

And yet, Gunther’s face remained eerily calm.

[Skill “King-Slayer Sword” activated]

This time, he did not have the Judge... but he had two other weapons.

[“Deicide” is ready for use]

The final strike that could be used only once in a lifetime.

Woooooo—

All the mana remaining in Gunther’s body began to drain rapidly. His heart clenched with pain. The energy running through his veins flowed entirely into the blade.

“King-slayer.”

Commander. Monarch. Leader. A technique created to cut down those who stood at the вершине of corrupt power.

And layered on top of it—Deicide. The forbidden ritual that awakened the power of a Godslayer.

His opponent was an archbishop who commanded divine power. The moment those two forces collided, the strength of the sword rose to unimaginable heights.

Screeeeeech!

The blade erupted in crimson light, tearing apart the darkness. Even “Night” itself was forced to retreat before that raging scarlet radiance.

“W-what?!”

The old eyes of Archbishop Ardel widened in horror at the unknown power. In the distance, Verion—realizing he had been deceived—was already rushing to intervene.

“Stop! Don’t you dare!”

Gunther knew: after this strike, he would not have the strength left to even move a finger. All his mana, will, and life force had been poured into this swing.

“If I’m lucky, I’ll kill Ardel... but Verion will tear me to pieces right after.”

But... it would be fine.

“The final gamble... has begun,” Gunther whispered, raising his sword above Ardel.

“Do you really think Verion will make it in time?”

...There was no answer. None was needed. Gunther could see Ardel’s thoughts in his frantic eyes.

Woooooo—

The Ritual of Thunderous Fusion began to collapse. The flow of power running from the sacrifices to Verion suddenly twisted. The redirected force surged toward—

“Archbishop Ardel!!!!” Verion roared in fury and disbelief.

Turning away from him, Ardel pulled all the power of the ritual onto himself. To survive. To stay alive, no matter the cost. Behind them came the sound of Verion’s body collapsing, crushed by the backlash of the severed connection.

“...Traitor.”

Faith. Oaths. Everything that had been offered to God. In that moment, Archbishop Ardel betrayed all of it to save his own skin.

“Hah... Hah...”

Ardel desperately tried to raise a shield from the scraps of power left in the ritual. Watching this, Gunther only smirked faintly.

“I knew it.”

Boom!!!!

Gunther’s sword fell without a trace of hesitation.

.

.

.

Ding!

[Progress of Act 2, Chapter 2: “Distorted Sea” has been changed]

The Great Admiral has successfully escaped. The remaining forces of Luthien in Nereus have been destroyed. Victory has been achieved in the battle against the traitorous naval forces—Black Wind and Blue Blade.

[Next objective updated]

→ Head to meet the slumbering Sea Dragon.