Surviving without God

— That’s impossible.

Looking at Gunther over the lowered mace, Revmael thought exactly that. His eyes, which once trembled under the weight of overwhelming power. Not a trace of that hesitation remained. Nor of the body that used to bend and shudder under every one of her blows.

“...How?”

She knew he wielded unholy power. Wasn’t he the one who forced her to retreat last time by invoking the might of the One-Eyed King—a being whose path fundamentally opposed her own?

But this was different. It wasn’t about compatibility of power. This was growth. A leap that violated all logic.

“What the hell did you do in these past few months?”

Revmael’s thoughts tried to catch up with reality, but failed to reach an answer in time.

Screeeech!

The mace and the two-handed sword bit into each other, grinding and groaning with the scream of metal. In that instant, Gunther’s blade slid. Instead of taking the strike head-on, he redirected it, warping its trajectory.

And then...

The mace passed completely off course. In the moment when that multi-ton force cleaved through empty air, Gunther slipped into the opening and struck upward. The two-handed sword swept past, missing by a hair.

...Alien. Everything felt utterly unfamiliar to Revmael.

Like how the human body stiffens before a carriage rushing at full speed. When death becomes too real, a person cannot move. Overwhelming violence does not awaken the instinct to resist—it triggers the most basic instinct: to freeze.

Her weapon, the “Sacred Hammer of Eradication,” bestowed by the God of Justice, was precisely such an instrument—one that instilled despair in mortals. Absolute mass and power. A force that cannot be avoided or blocked—created solely to crush and annihilate.

But now. That certainty wavered for the first time.

— I see...

Revmael’s trembling eyes hardened again. The shaken confusion was replaced by fury and a sinister aura.

— ...Fine. Struggle. The outcome will remain the same.

It wasn’t as if no one had resisted judgment before. But the end was always the same. Erasure.

Whoosh!

Black flames crawled across her body. Fire that did not simply burn, but devoured the flesh itself. The mace surged toward Gunther again—this time much faster.

Crack!

— ......?

Gunther’s body shattered before it could even react. Blood and flesh sprayed in all directions, but even they evaporated instantly in the flames of justice, turning into pale smoke. A familiar sensation in her fingertips. A corpse disintegrating into nothingness. And yet Revmael did not rejoice at the easy death of a heretic... she froze. Her instincts screamed at once.

Woooo—

A shadow rippled behind her. From it, Gunther’s silhouette began to emerge. While she struck, dense night had already wrapped around him. In the glow of the ignited “Red Lantern,” his cold eyes gleamed.

— What the...?!

The one she destroyed was a double. An unbelievably precise imitation created through El’s transformation magic. Gunther perfectly replicated the combat style used by the three gods.

Whoosh!

The belated swing of the mace cut through empty air. Gunther was already gone. He had predicted the attack and activated “Step into Shadows” in advance.

— !

His figure slipped into the darkness and burst out again into Revmael’s blind spot. There was no hesitation. The accumulated power condensed into a single point. A sweeping strike pierced straight into her abdomen.

And...

Clang!

The sound produced when the aura-wrapped, flame-covered blade struck a human body was utterly alien. A metallic roar more suited to a forge. Revmael’s durability had long surpassed that of a living being.

Boom!

Only the ground beneath them failed, flipping over entirely. Cracks spread in all directions, and fragments shot upward like a storm. Of course, Revmael was not unharmed. Her body bent in half as she was sent flying, cutting through the air like a cannonball.

— ......

But Gunther’s expression did not brighten. He could feel it in his bones—the damage dealt was not critical.

“As expected of the strongest Apostle.”

Midair, Revmael twisted her body, regaining balance. In that fleeting moment while she regrouped, Gunther had only one thing to do.

[Skill activated: “Eyes of the Tyrant” (Lv. 5)]

With the level increase, he could now use it multiple times a day.

Perception accelerated sharply. It felt as if everything around him had slowed down. Gunther quickly scanned his surroundings, assessing the situation.

“The battlefield... is the same.”

A familiar landscape entered his vision. The sea bordering his home village. But this wasn’t like that “past” where nothing existed.

The Blue Blade ships were still at sea. Or rather... it seemed they had no choice but to remain.

Boom-boom-boom!

Cannon fire thundered without pause. Signal flares launched one after another from the masts, painting the sky red with desperate pleas for help. Gunther realized: half the fleet was relentlessly bombarding the shore beyond the sandy beach.

Kaboom!

Columns of sand taller than a man erupted into the air, grains scattering like needles. Gunther spotted the Great Admiral, who had already returned to the flagship and was issuing orders at full force.

“Who are they firing at...?”

The answer emerged through the gunpowder smoke.

— Aaaaargh! Death to the heretics!

Breaking through the bombardment, people charged forward. Luthien’s fanatics. Gunther’s eyes narrowed.

“This isn’t just one cult.”

Their attire varied wildly. Organized heavy infantry resembling a regular army. Priests shouting prayers in fluttering robes. Holy knights clad in silver armor. On their cuirasses and cloaks were the mixed crests of all seven cults. Abundance, Repose, Justice, Trust... Symbols of every faction blended into a single mass. It looked as if they had gathered and thrown every available force in the region into battle.

“Their numbers...”

It was impossible to even imagine when and how they had deployed so many troops. The density and scale defied all reason.

“Father... you made the right move.”

From Luthien’s perspective, it was the logical choice. Gunther had many allies. Once the Great Admiral finished preparing Nereus, thousands of elite naval fighters would be at his disposal. Valloren’s knights were also ready to march by land at any moment.

Meanwhile, Luthien’s main forces were concentrated in southern Badland and Nomadis. If they allowed Gunther to stall, they would be strangled.

So right now—throw everything in to break the axis that is Gunther. That was the fastest and most certain answer.

— Holy war! This is a holy war!

— Strike down the filthy enemy and offer them to the divine table!

— Incarnation of heresy! I smell decay!

Mad screams mixed with the thunder of cannons. But the problem wasn’t only on land.

— Hard to starboard! Hold the angle! Maintain sail tilt!

Half of the Blue Blade fleet was firing at an unidentified enemy emerging from the sea fog. Through the haze, unfamiliar ship silhouettes and flags appeared. Luthien’s naval forces.

“.......”

But why? Despite the dire situation, the allies were holding surprisingly well.

Night Raven was understandable—veterans who had returned from the brink of death countless times. They had already spread across the battlefield, acting wherever they were needed most.

But even the ordinary fleet soldiers did not waver. Despite the overwhelming disparity in strength, they acted calmly, following orders. They fought at twice the efficiency one would expect.

“Ah...”

Realizing something, Gunther shifted his gaze to the system messages he had been ignoring.

[New class unlocked]

[Would you like to view details?]

“...Could it be?”

Lines cascaded before his eyes:

[Countless repetitions of defeat and survival]

[Choices made within intertwined chains of causality]

[All of this path converges into a single result]

[Where you stand, there will be victory]

[New class: Unyielding Commander]

Gunther clenched his fist involuntarily as he read the name. Countless battlefields, choices that changed the course of events that should have ended in defeat... All of that accumulated legacy had finally taken form.

“Unyielding.”

It surpassed ordinary classes—a hidden higher-tier achievement.

— Command range expands from a group to the entire battlefield.

— Morale, recovery speed, and fighting spirit of allies within command range cannot be easily broken.

— The higher the affinity with companions, the stronger the gradual bonuses to all aspects of combat.

— Allies within command range gain significant resistance to “Confusion” and “Fear.”

— Enemy morale and stamina gradually decline.

※ Upon class mastery advancement:

— Range and influence will increase step by step.

— Tactical refinement in large-scale battles will significantly improve.

— In naval battles, maneuvering and bombardment precision will be enhanced at the fleet level.

— The speed of breaking enemy morale will accelerate.

A class with truly overwhelming efficiency in large-scale warfare. But it didn’t end there.

[Class skill created: “Banner of Victory”]

“Where he stands, there lies the center of victory.”

— Rank: Epic

— Type: Large-scale enhancement (buff)

Gunther activated it without even finishing the description.

“This will help.”

Rustle...

Above the dense sea fog, in the air over the battlefield where cannon fire and screams merged, a golden banner appeared. It moved against the wind. Suspended between reality and illusion, it slowly waved.

At the moment the “Banner of Victory” rose before the battle was even decided, every gaze was drawn to it.

Whoooosh!

The slow-stretched time suddenly snapped forward, like a fast-forwarded film. The effect of “Eyes of the Tyrant” ended. Compressed senses released, and all external stimuli crashed onto him at once.

— You dare lose focus?! How dare you!

The voice pierced his ears like a blade. Killing intent, boiling with rage, seemed to crush the air itself. Revmael descended with her mace raised, like a falling meteor.

“...Incredible.”

But Gunther felt only admiration.

All that analysis—assessing the situation, checking messages, activating a skill—fit into a span of time that could not even be called an instant.

An offering of 5,000 Karma. And the understanding accumulated alongside the three gods. “Eyes of the Tyrant” was no longer what it once was.

— Insect!!!

Sensing his calm, Revmael grew even more furious. The mace plunged down like a wedge. Gunther shifted the trajectory of that “vector of despair” and braced the flat of his blade like a shield, pouring all his mana into it.

Kaboom!

The strike wasn’t “blocked” in the usual sense—it was redirected into the ground. Gunther’s knees buckled halfway as he sank deep into the sand. The shoreline collapsed entirely. A massive crater formed instantly. Grains of sand shot up like bullets, and fanatics standing dozens of meters away bled from their ears.

Boom! Boom!

The attacks didn’t stop. The multi-ton mace danced in her hands as if she were striking with bare fists.

Gunther deflected what could be deflected and let pass what could not be blocked, retreating step by step.

Even so, bones and muscles screamed. If not for the increased stat efficiency after his hierarchy advancement, his body would have already torn apart.

Whoosh!

Even “Step into Shadows” barely helped now. Revmael’s abilities were not limited to physical strength alone.

Crack... crack...

An invisible pressure compressed space. A gravitational field dragged at his ankles. Even when he tried to slip into nearby shadows, he was pulled back into Revmael’s attack range. His movements grew heavier.

“As expected...”

And most importantly—he knew. Revmael still had several trump cards in reserve. Among them were ones that could not be faced head-on.

“.......”

Gunther’s eyes grew cold. Logically speaking, he was at a clear disadvantage.

In this duel. And in the battle unfolding alongside it. If he stalled, defeat was inevitable.

...And yet, Gunther did not lower his gaze. He seemed to be probing the battlefield itself.

The key to turning the tide exists.

“You’ve already noticed, haven’t you?”

A quiet certainty. The old Gunther, dying over and over, would have tried to break through alone. But not now. The way those three gods fought... it never involved the word “alone.”

Gunther slowly exhaled.

Right. It wasn’t necessary for him to be the one to deliver checkmate. In this game, he would not move as the queen—but as a pawn.

...Though a very useful pawn, one that would have to tie down a monstrous queen so that his allies could strike the enemy king freely.

The approaching Apostle of Justice. Staring straight at her massive mace, Gunther whispered:

— God of Justice, Revmael.

Hearing that name, the Apostle instinctively froze. The corners of Gunther’s lips twitched.

— Have you ever seen him in person? Or have you only heard his voice—is that the limit of your dreams?

— ...What?

— I have.

A brief silence. His opponent was the first to realize those words were not a lie.

— Wh... how...

At the moment when horror and envy appeared on her face at once, Gunther burst into laughter.

— Nothing special. My friends just beat the nonsense out of him.

Gunther was certain: for the next five minutes, Revmael would come at him with the intent to kill at any cost. And he knew—if those three gods were here, they would be laughing with him right now.