Surviving without God

Thud-thud-thud-thud!

The few seconds it took to sprint toward the cafeteria felt like an eternity to Lumar. Only one hope drove him forward.

‘I have to take him alive, no matter what!’

Now that Mother was dead, this was the only way to atone for their mistake. Lumar knew perfectly well how horrific the price of this failure would be. Their direct superior, the Bishop, was a man who hid indescribable cruelty behind a gentle smile. It would be better to be devoured alive by Mother than to report a complete fiasco to him.

‘But if I capture the Night Raven alive, I can at least save my own life!’

Judging by the fact that he eliminated Mother, he must be a high-ranking member of the organization. Surely he possesses valuable information.

...Those thoughts pushed Lumar forward.

— Run! Run faster!

After the battle with Mother, he must be exhausted. This is the perfect moment. Lumar, together with two dozen bandits—

— Seize the intruder!

—burst without hesitation into the cafeteria, its doors flung wide open.

Rustle... rustle...

Darkness in the corner of the hall. The spider, curled into itself, had just begun to shake off the status «Intimidation».

Boom!

Eight compressed legs sprang outward, and the massive body launched into the air. Panic-stricken screams erupted from the vanguard struck by the sudden attack.

— A-ah?! What the hell is that?!

— A-a-a-a-a!

— Fuck, it’s alive! You said it was dead!

The divine power was gone, but the intellect—far more developed than that of ordinary monsters—remained unchanged. Instead of immediately satisfying its hunger, the spider precisely identified the only escape route for its “meal” and—

Screeeee—

It crossed the wall and blocked the main doors.

“........”

An ominous silence fell. No one dared take the first step. Only Lumar’s and Patrick’s eyebrows twitched violently. They had no time to think about the invisible intruder. Their minds were consumed by the phenomenon before their eyes.

‘Mother is alive? But the signal was cut?’

Inexplicable confusion. ...And relief.

But before they could analyze the situation, something black whistled toward them. It was one of the creature’s legs.

Whoosh! Bam!!!

With the first strike alone, three bandits were literally smashed into the wall. They were crushed before they could even scream.

— H-huh?

— Max...?

Where would these bandits, accustomed only to knife fights in alleyways, gain experience fighting Great monsters? They froze, staring at the horror before them. When they kicked victims into the hatch, it had never crossed their minds that such a fate might befall them. On the contrary, because they had witnessed that very process, the terror seeped straight into their bones.

— N-ngh... n-ngh...

The boss shouted at his stunned subordinates.

— The fuck are you staring at?! Attack! Kill it now! Whoever finishes it gets 50 gold—no, 100 gold!

Just as the bandits, barely suppressing their fear, were about to raise their weapons—

— Stop! Lower your weapons! — Lumar screamed, eyes bulging.

— You wretched creatures, this is Mother. The vessel meant to incarnate God. If you so much as scratch her, I will personally send you all to the pyre!

Those were not words meant for men splattered with their comrades’ blood. Several bandits, faces flushed red, looked at Lumar. In their eyes there was neither fear nor reverence.

‘What the hell is this bastard babbling about?’

The rank-and-file members, aside from the upper echelon, knew neither who Lumar truly was nor what Mother was. Gritting their teeth, they shouted:

— Boss! What do we do?!

The boss himself, glancing nervously at Lumar, stammered:

— F-for now, form a defensive line! Step out of her attack range... I mean, Mother’s...

The price of that foolish order was severe.

Crunch! Sshhrrk!

This time it was two. With one swipe of its leg, the spider hurled two bandits away and bit a third clean in half, sinking its fangs into his lower back.

— Gha-a-a-a!

— Jefferson! Damn it!

At that moment, Lumar and Patrick exchanged a look. Not a word was spoken, but their intentions were clear.

‘We have to retreat.’

All of this was deeply strange. Mother was alive. The parasitic core was not physically destroyed. Yet the divine power within had vanished without a trace.

‘This contradicts logic.’

The power accumulated through the sacrifice of countless lives could not simply evaporate in an instant. They were certain there was some trick to this—and some way to restore it.

‘The Bishop will surely know the solution!’

The one who had conducted countless Descension rituals across the continent would see through this anomaly at a glance and correct it. The mere fact that Mother had not perished was already an achievement. They only needed to survive and report to him.

Rustle...

Having made their decision somewhere between rational calculation and fear-driven flight, Lumar quietly turned around.

— A-a-a-a!

Bandits were dying in chaos under Mother’s claws. If those wretches distracted her a little longer, he and Patrick could safely—

Slice!

— A-a-a-a!

Blinding pain exploded in his hamstring, and Lumar collapsed to the floor.

— Hey. You make this mess and now you’re sneaking off?

A scarred man smirked, holding an oddly shaped dagger in reverse grip. When Lumar saw ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ his own severed tendon dangling from the tip of the blade, he screamed again—not only from pain. The moment he realized he was lying helpless in a place where Mother rampaged freely, an indescribable horror flooded him. It was the primal fear of a predator who had become prey.

— You dishonorable trash!

The only consolation was that Patrick did not abandon him and charged the scarred man. He was a Paladin of the 3rd hierarchy, the parish’s key combat force. Firm faith ignited in Lumar’s eyes that Patrick would cut down some mere bandit officer in a single strike and save him.

“........!”

But that expectation was instantly betrayed. Moving with the agility of a wild beast, the scarred man calmly evaded the heavy sword strike and, drawing another dagger from his belt, threw it behind him.

Whistle!

...And Mother, who had been enthusiastically butchering bandits, had one of her eyes burst.

Screeeeeee!

Lumar’s hair stood on end as all of Mother’s remaining eyes turned toward them. Now that the parasitic core was gone, he understood better than anyone: to Mother, everything before her was nothing more than food.

— Y-you crazy bastard!

The scarred man lit a cigarette and laughed carelessly.

— Didn’t like you sons of bitches anyway.

His indifferent gaze slid over the mangled subordinates and stopped on Lumar and Patrick.

— Let’s play.

.

.

.

True chaos. The clash between Mother, the Paladin, and the bandits was nearing its end, and no victor was in sight.

Gunther, who had been observing everything from the ceiling, quietly rose and stood before the hatch. Eddie looked at him in confusion.

— You... what are you doing?

The question was logical. If they simply left things as they were, the situation would resolve itself. But Gunther had entirely different plans.

— I can’t deny myself the pleasure of delivering the final blow.

***

In front of the hatch, Gunther calmly surveyed the space below and began calculating. First—Mother.

‘Damn strong.’

If she had been handed over intact to the Luthien side, she would have become a catastrophe. Though several of her legs had been broken during the joint assault and her armor-like shell torn to rags, she still had every chance of winning this three-way fight. Even now, she was overwhelmingly suppressing that powerful Paladin.

‘Can’t give her time to recover.’

Without hesitation, Gunther leapt down.

Whoosh!

The second jump was even bolder and more precise. At the moment his falling trajectory aligned with his sword’s swing, the blade’s tip aimed straight at the monster’s head.

Crunch!

The monster’s shell had reached its limit and failed to withstand the impact amplified by gravity. The outer casing burst, and when the sword sank deep into flesh, dark green fluid sprayed like a fountain. At the same time, an ear-piercing shriek rang out.

Screeeeeek!

The creature’s legs twitched spasmodically, then it went limp.

— W-what the...

The Paladin who had been fighting Mother with the last of his strength froze, stunned. Ignoring him, Gunther pulled out his sword and landed gracefully.

Ding!

From the system’s perspective, Gunther was merely 1st hierarchy. The status window evaluated his feat of destroying the overgrown Mother as follows:

Ding!

[You have overcome a colossal gap in power and achieved a miraculous victory]

[Level Up! / Lv. 45]

[Level Up! / Lv. 46]

[Level Up! / Lv. 47]

[Skill Mastery of “Knight’s Swordsmanship” (Lv. 3) increases significantly]

[You have slain a being that once housed divinity]

[Your damage and resistance against divine entities and their servants increase]

— Damage +5%, Resistance +1%

Pleasant messages filled his vision. But enemies still remained. Gunther first distributed his stat points.

[Strength: 38 → 40]

[Strength has reached 40]

[Muscle fiber density increases abnormally. You can wield heavy weaponry with ease, and the power of strength-based skills increases significantly. Destructive force against certain structures also rises noticeably]

[Endurance: 32 → 33]

[“Weaver of Despair” looks at you, who shattered his vessel, with eyes full of hatred]

[“One Who Flies Ahead of the Wind” sends you a wingbeat filled with favor]

...One Who Flies Ahead of the Wind.

A deity whose name he recognized. An entity hostile to the Weaver of Despair. In the world of , players were often dragged into the feuds of gods. But that could wait.

Clang!

Gunther caught a sword strike aimed at his face. A greatsword nearly twice the size of Ladenbach’s. Under normal circumstances, he would not have withstood that force. ...Yes, under normal circumstances.

— I-ik! You! Filthy heretic trash!

Gunther nodded toward Patrick’s mangled left arm and smirked coldly.

— Aren’t you the heretic here? So how does it feel to engage in a heated battle with your own god’s vessel?

— Grrraaaaa!

Enraged, his opponent charged again like a wounded boar. His health was nearly depleted, and one arm crippled, so the trajectory of the blade was clear—a wide diagonal slash from left hip to right shoulder.

Whistle!

Gunther’s brows twitched slightly.

‘Hm...’

At first glance, it seemed the Paladin had lost his mind... but his eyes were ice-cold. That dissonance struck harder than the sword itself.

‘A feint.’

The blade was only bait. Then what was he aiming for?

‘Obvious.’

A Paladin in early 3rd hierarchy. At that level, they can more actively use «Devouring Authority». Which means—

‘This will be it.’

As the thought concluded, Gunther swung his sword. Not toward the incoming blade, but in a completely different direction. And at that very moment—

— Grrraaaaaaa!

Patrick’s previously limp second arm snapped straight, as if by magic. His blood-soaked palm pointed toward the pile of corpses in the center of the cafeteria. With crazed eyes, he shouted:

— O Lord of Gluttony! Forgive me for offering you the flesh of the unclean!

Splurt!

His palm split open. From the crack burst a bundle of grotesquely thick, bluish-black tentacles, writhing violently. Covered in slime, the massive appendages shot forward like a swarm.

Whoosh!

Their target was the heap of bodies. The tips of the tentacles spread wide, revealing rows of dense teeth. Gunther’s gaze darkened.

‘As expected. Gluttony.’

Gluttony. A skill of the Paladins of the Cult of Abundance, allowing recovery and empowerment through consuming organic matter—blood and flesh. A kind of ultimate move, used only in desperate situations, as it led to partial loss of human form and left irreversible traces. A decisive move capable of overturning the battle in an instant, but—

Slice.

Gunther’s sword, already positioned along the tentacles’ path, erased every possibility of salvation in a single stroke.

— Ha... a...?

Patrick’s eyes trembled violently as severed tentacle fragments scattered through the air.

— How did you...

How did he predict the trajectory of Gluttony without the slightest error? Before the question could leave his lips, Gunther’s blade took his head.

.

.

.

[Level Up! / Lv. 48]

[Level Up! / Lv. 49]

[Your level approaches the limit of 1st hierarchy (Lv. 50). Prepare for hierarchy promotion evaluation!]

[Agility: 37 → 39]

[You severed tentacles imbued with an Evil God’s authority in a single strike. Your skills are progressing at an unprecedented rate]

[Skill Mastery of “Knight’s Swordsmanship” (Lv. 3) increases significantly]

[Current Mastery: 33.3%]

[Jean Daet’s gaze lingered on you for a moment... but soon dimmed, as though he lost interest]