Surviving without God

“Mmm-mmm!”

A muffled scream tore through the tightly bound cloth. But the one who responded to that sound was not the savior he had been desperately waiting for.

Shrrk... shrrk... shrrk...

Massive arthropod legs advanced, alternating between the walls and strands of webbing. On each limb protruded growths the size of daggers, scraping along stone and producing a grating, ear-splitting screech.

“M-mmmmm!”

Sticky, unyielding silk wrapped around the victim crawling helplessly across the floor. Soon, above him—now reduced to a white cocoon—the spider’s shadow slowly loomed.

Krrr...

The feast began.

The sound of flesh tearing from flesh. A desperate scream.

And yet, the faces of those watching remained calm, as though this were an ordinary, everyday sight. Some grimaced, but instead of sympathetic sighs, mocking curses spilled from their mouths.

— Ugh, shouldn’t have watched this. Lunch is coming up soon.

— What, you’re squeamish? You should be used to it by now.

— Used to that? Look, his guts are stuck between its teeth. You could jump rope with them.

Despite their words of disgust, their faces were bright with laughter. A pitiful end for those who strutted around calling themselves contractors. For gang members living in the shadows of alleyways, there was no greater entertainment.

— Huh?

The laughter didn’t last long. Rough faces froze instantly.

— Oh? Hey. Shut up.

It wasn’t the dying rattle of the victim that silenced them.

Step. Step.

Footsteps behind them.

Without even turning, the bandits reflexively bent into deep bows.

— Boss, you’re here!

A heavyset man entered casually, waving a hand. Behind him, silent as a shadow, followed another man. His face was marked with a massive “X”-shaped scar.

The thugs’ expressions stiffened further. It was clear they feared the scarred man more than the one they called boss. Noticing this, the boss barked irritably:

— Bastards, it’s almost work time and you’re loafing around?

— S-sorry!

— Scatter!

The gang hurried off. Only then did the boss cough and look down at the feasting spider.

Psssh—

The scarred man lit his pipe. The boss smiled in satisfaction.

— Damn, it’s grown like hell in just a couple months. When they first brought it, wasn’t it barely bigger than a dog? Now it’s bigger than a bull.

— We fed it well.

— Yeah...

Tch.

The boss flicked his still-burning cigarette through the grate. It fell quickly, a small spark flashing briefly against the creature’s hard black carapace.

In that flash of light, a shadow shot upward.

With legs spread wide, the spider slammed into the ground after a leap.

Boom!

It hadn’t reached the grate they stood on, but a five-meter jump was not something any normal living thing should manage.

The boss chuckled and slapped the scarred man’s shoulder. But beneath the laughter lay faint unease.

“...What a monster.”

The more it ate, the more its body swelled, its black scales gleaming... and the stronger that rising sensation became—discomfort, nausea, and something he refused to admit as fear.

Of course, he couldn’t show that in front of his men. He casually changed the subject.

— How much feed’s left?

— Two days’ worth.

— What? That little? What about the guy you picked up at the new establishment the other day? The idiot who rushed in without even knowing his own subordinate sold him out?

— Already counted. Starting today, we have to give them one extra per day.

The boss muttered:

— Damn glutton. If it goes hungry, those guys will make it our problem... What the hell do we do...

His gaze dropped again.

Truthfully, he was curious too. What kind of nightmare beast was this, that those busy gentlemen treated it ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) so carefully? Why did they come regularly to check on it? Why did it have to be fed contractors specifically?

“...Not like knowing would help me.”

Curiosity about something that reeked of danger only led to bloodshed.

“I won’t end up like Regan.”

Gold was what mattered. Gold that let him enjoy this magnificent city.

He turned and waved at the scarred man.

— I’ll handle them somehow. You keep a closer eye on it. They’re supposed to visit again soon. I’m leaving.

— Yes, boss.

Left alone, the scarred man stared down into the “dining hall,” lost in thought.

Just then, another body was tossed through the chute.

“Mmm-mmm! Mmm-mmm!”

In the darkness, locking eyes with those gleaming pupils, the victim screamed through the gag. His limbs were bound. Escape was impossible. The impact of the fall had left him even more helpless.

The spider approached slowly.

Watching the futile struggle, the scarred man nudged the subordinate beside him.

— Hey.

— Yes, boss!

— Knife.

Taking it, he narrowed one eye as if measuring the distance.

Fwhoosh— 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

Without hesitation, he threw.

The blade arced steeply, severed the bindings in a single stroke, and embedded itself in the floor.

Perfect. Diabolical accuracy.

— ?

The crying stopped abruptly. Only frantic footsteps echoed.

— B-boss?! Is this okay—

— Shut up.

Yellow pupils tracked carefully.

In his vision, the “food” ran desperately toward the dagger.

He lit a cigarette.

“...Yes. That’s it.”

No matter what kind of contractor you were, unless you were high rank, you couldn’t defeat a three-meter monster with a pitiful knife.

Everyone knew that. Even the man running toward the blade knew it.

Only the scarred man watching with anticipation seemed not to.

And, of course—

— Ah... ah...

The “food” gave up.

— You should’ve struggled to the end. That won’t do.

Clicking his tongue at the dagger lying uselessly on the ground, he gestured again.

— Knife.

Another blade flew in a steep arc.

Just a split second before the spider’s fangs pierced the victim’s abdomen, it sliced cleanly through his throat.

Grrr...

By the time the spider began feeding, the victim was already dead.

...

A subordinate hurried up and whispered in his ear.

— Bring him.

Word had come. A contractor had entered the new establishment.

***

— All-in.

Silence hung over the table.

— Wh-what?

— I said I’m betting everything.

— Ha. You’re insane...

His eyes darted. First to the mountain of chips. Then to his hand. Finally, to my eyes.

He searched desperately for a crack.

[Art of the Pure Heart is being used]

[Status applied: “Pure Heart”]

He wouldn’t detect even the faintest tremor.

[The King of Ninety-Nine Defeats is puzzled by such an unexpected use of the skill]

— You... you...

His feigned confidence faltered. The trembling grew until—

— ...Fold.

Shrrk.

Thirteen consecutive victories.

I gathered the chips. Nearly 50 gold on the table. Converted to Korean won—close to 50 million. A fortune.

Twelve spectators now surrounded our table—the largest game in the house.

I flicked a 1-gold chip toward them and smirked.

— Woooooo!

Thunderous cheers erupted.

Naturally, Ryan caught the coin while pretending not to know me. No need to waste a million won.

With the most innocent face imaginable, he stirred the crowd.

— The God of Gambling! It’s the God of Gambling!

Hoping for more tips, they joined in.

— The God of Gambling has arrived!

[The King of Ninety-Nine Defeats looks at you with a complicated expression]

[Alphonse of Red Street is cheering]

[The Drug-Addicted Saint hesitates briefly, then begins cheering as well]

Discipline? Irrelevant. Opponents? Irrelevant. Dealer or guest. Professional cheat or honest player.

Today, I was invincible.

[Alphonse of Red Street smiles smugly]

And it all became possible because of a deal made two hours ago.

“Alphonse.”

[Alphonse of Red Street smiles as if he knows what you intend to say]

To find Eddie, I first had to enter the gambling house where he disappeared.

Going as a simple guest would be meaningless.

I had to become someone they would want to seize immediately.

“Let’s take this place. How much?”

[He draws two sevens in the air]

I paid without hesitation.

[You offer “77” Karma to Alphonse of Red Street]

[Current Karma: 343]

An image of a skeleton flipping cards and dice appeared near my collarbone, beside the Stigma.

Ding!

[Passive skill added: “Ill-Handed Trickery”]

“Hands like these can accomplish many things.”

Rank: Rare

Type: Passive

Description: In nearly any action classified as “immoral,” your hands move with astonishing dexterity.

Effect: Grants a powerful bonus to all criminal actions.

Critical Chance +1%

After that, everything flowed.

Combining “Art of the Pure Heart” with Alphonse’s dexterity, I became untouchable.

I toyed with guests. Stripped dealers. Eventually, the house’s professional cheats appeared.

“They must be the ones who cleaned out Eddie’s men.”

Their tricks were cheap.

Mine were better.

In just two hours, my starting 15 gold had multiplied more than tenfold.

A very useful side income.

“Well. Time to call them.”

I yawned exaggeratedly.

— Haaah...

Pretending exhaustion, I stood.

Commotion stirred in the corner. Thugs approached. Well-dressed, but the stench of alleyways clung to them.

The dealer shrank instinctively.

But the thugs weren’t interested in him.

“Bingo.”

Their gaze was fixed on the exposed Stigma of the King of Ninety-Nine Defeats on my wrist.

Their eyes gleamed like they’d spotted treasure.

— Guest.

— ...

— You shouldn’t stay here. How about somewhere more... exclusive? Our boss would like to host you properly...

He faltered when he saw I was already standing.

— Let’s go. I was getting bored anyway.

— ...Ah. Yes.

— But first, restroom.

Before he could object, I walked off.

In the restroom, I handed my pouch of chips to Ryan.

— Have fun.

He sighed.

— ...Come back alive.

.

.

.

The rest was predictable.

Their cheat sat at the table. The performance continued.

Soon came wine laced with sedatives. A cigarette with narcotics.

A few hands later—

— Mm...

— If you’re tired, would you like to rest in our private lounge?

Polite tone. Hunter’s eyes.

I let my eyelids droop.

— Sudden fatigue... Long road, I guess.

Laughter rippled.

— This might sting a little~

Cold prick at my neck.

A needle.

I slumped onto the table.

— You... filthy bastards...

.

.

.

Not much time passed.

The numbness under my skin receded.

Clarity returned.

Ding!

[Effect of “Ferdian’s Awakening Herb” activated]

[Anesthetic effects greatly reduced]

[The Drug-Addicted Saint grins]

— Move him.

A cold order brushed my ear.

I relaxed completely.

Good.

If I stayed limp, these fools would deliver me straight to Eddie themselves.