Surviving without God

A space filled with nothing but darkness and silence. The three inhabitants of this place had spent so much time here together that most of it was swallowed by quiet. Any topic for conversation had already been repeated thousands—tens of thousands—of times.

But now, for the first time in a long while, laughter and lively voices echoed through this soundless void.

“O-o-oh! Finally!”

Alphonse of Red Street sprang up from his spot and broke into a dance, flailing his arms. The chains binding his body pulled tight, letting out a grinding screech, like skin being torn away. But even that sound, which normally brought nothing but pain, now felt like the music of a celebration.

“Gunther finally raised his hierarchy! Play the music!”

Even the Drug-Addicted Saint—who always cowered in the corner—started hopping like a child, chanting after him:

“Play the music! Gunther raised his hierarchy... ow!”

Halfway through, she dropped into a crouch, twisting in pain and almost crying, but her face was still radiant. The ever-majestic King of Knights was also watching them with a faint smile. Because of his inborn dignity, he could not allow himself any wild reaction, yet a storm of emotion was clearly raging in his chest.

“...Gunther, your successes give us the strength to laugh and speak. Thank you.”

Gunther’s previous achievements had been impressive too, but raising one’s hierarchy was a completely different matter. For a human, hierarchy was the same thing as a god’s “status.” They themselves had once been human and had gone through “ascension,” building their hierarchy step by step, so they understood the weight of this event better than anyone. Only when Gunther’s hierarchy rose would higher gates open, and the heaviest chains finally fall away.

“You’ll make it.”

The King of Knights did not even realize when he began swaying to the rhythm of Alphonse’s song.

“Oh, look, he’s dancing!”

“......”

The instant someone pointed at him, he froze. Alphonse, wearing a sly grin, strolled over and brazenly draped an arm over the King of Knights’ shoulder.

“If this keeps going, then one day... we’ll be able to get our status back, won’t we?”

“Yes.”

“And we’ll get out of this damn prison, and the day will come when we, like before, drink a mug of beer, letting the cool wind hit our faces.”

“It will.”

The King of Knights closed his eyes for a moment and added:

“And we will meet again... those we miss so dearly.”

Clink—

The Saint, who had been sitting on the floor, came over too, chains ringing, and tightly clasped their hands.

“Yes, absolutely. No matter what!”

Hundreds of years ago. They had entered into a certain contract, surrendered all their status, accepted forbidden shackles, and ended up locked in here. It had been a path chosen with readiness for eternal torment, but now that a ghostly chance of escape had appeared, they could not restrain the tremble in their hearts.

More than that, the status of the King of Knights had truly recovered a little. The Karma Gunther had sent reached him, and part of the chains squeezing his body loosened. ...Though he did not enjoy that freedom for long—he immediately took on part of the weight of his comrades’ chains.

“You’re a hopeless softie, you know that. Fine...”

Alphonse clicked his tongue and got to the point.

“So what do you think about the deity Gunther contracted with? ‘Flying Ahead of the Wind’? Ever heard of one like that?”

The Saint shook her head at once.

“Completely unfamiliar. Back when we were active, it must have been nothing but a young beast—barely a spiritual being.”

She had wandered into every deaf corner of the world gathering herbs, and she knew nearly all spiritual beings and demons. If she said “I don’t know,” then it truly was a very young entity. Alphonse smiled bitterly, realizing just how much time had passed.

“Hm, and a brat like that is already an Official...”

The King of Knights calmly continued:

“Gunther seems to have wanted to ask that young god about the Forgotten Age. I doubt it knows anything of value.”

“Well, Gunther will figure out what to listen to and what to ignore. You saw him bargain, right? That guy isn’t someone you can fool easily.”

“...He’s definitely more reliable than you.”

“O-o-oh, are you still mad about the dancing?”

“You are gravely mistaken.”

At that moment, the Saint let out a heavy sigh.

“If Gunther is going to make the next contract... I wish it would be one of our comrades. There isn’t much Karma as it is—what a waste to spend it on questionable deities.”

The King of Knights replied instantly:

“Then you mean ‘Fang.’ Without question, he could give Gunther the power he needs.”

“Fang” was the nickname of a comrade who was presumed to be connected to the scarred man. It was the only ancient god whose trail had surfaced by this point. Alphonse shrugged and added with hope:

“Who knows—maybe the others are waking up somewhere too. They were quick on their feet.”

Before, they would not have dared to hope for such a thing. They knew better than anyone how fanatical the Seven Evil Gods and their followers were. But recently, they had learned of an organization called the Society of Forgotten Books. That there were people of the present age digging into the history Luthien tried to erase completely—the “Forgotten Age.”

The King of Knights spoke quietly:

“...Even if that’s true, Gunther will have to find them. Our hands can’t reach them until this prison is destroyed.”

The three gods hoped Gunther would follow the traces of the ancient gods. Even if, in the distant past, they had lost to the Seven Evil Gods, they still had potential. If Gunther, as the “Heir,” could revive and inherit their status... He would surely become the only hope of salvation for this world doomed to ruin.

Clap!

Alphonse clapped his hands, driving away the heavy atmosphere.

“Enough of that! Let’s just cheer for him. Our Gunther is going to make new friends right about now, yeah?”

In the blink of an eye, the darkness thinned, and the vision turned clear. Gunther—their only channel to the outside world. He was taking his first step toward the initiation ceremony of “Night Raven.”

*** 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

The initiation ceremony is held in the most secret hideout of “Night Raven”—the “Sanctuary.” Not only were high-ranking figures from each division present, but also “Grand Crow,” whom Luthien hunted with particular fervor, so the security here was, of course, beyond imagination.

The Sanctuary lay on the outskirts of the Lower City. At first glance, it was nothing more than a long-abandoned steelworks, but beneath it hid an entirely different world. Ride the elevator down, and you would see a fortress built through mechanics and magic.

The walls were faced with a double layer of steel, and countless magic circles were drawn over them. Heavy black drones drifted soundlessly through the corridors, tracking any movement. But that wasn’t all. Every kind of defensive spell, perception-distortion field, and anti-spatial-distortion device was active. Hacking this and interfering with the Sanctuary’s operation would have been impossible even for the legendary Arcane Runner named “Nusi,” whose abilities were rumored to have reached a divine level.

And finally. Passing all that and pushing into the deepest section, you could reach the place where the ceremony was held.

“Preparations?”

“Proceeding smoothly. Most of the 45th intake are already on the way or have arrived.”

“Most... How many dropped out?”

“Only three.”

Originally, twenty-three candidates had volunteered. Nine from the combat unit, seven from the information unit, six from the support unit, and one from the executive division. Three of them changed their minds. Cases where candidates reversed their decision at the last moment happened often.

“They either vanish abruptly, or don’t answer the summons.”

...It was understandable. It took enormous courage to throw the rest of your life into a war where you couldn’t see any chance of victory.

In truth, after joining, it was the same. Even if they were carefully selected fighters, the moment they realized what they would be fighting... few people did not show weakness.

Their main enemy was not merely a religious state. It was overwhelming Evil Gods from outer space, and their lackeys. In the face of such transcendent beings, human resolve and thirst for revenge often burned out quickly.

Running away wasn’t even the worst option. Some went mad, others became traitors. But... there were also those who stayed.

“......”

Grand Crow cast a fleeting glance to the side. A woman in a wolf mask with red hair stood silently at her post. Only those ready to fight to the end, burning in the flame of unimaginable hatred, remained here beneath the wings of “Night Raven.”

“...Moon Wolf.”

“Yes, Master.”

“That man... the rookie you’re watching... must be on his way to the Sanctuary.”

“He is.”

“And what do you think of him?”

Moon Wolf did not answer immediately. That surprised Grand Crow. She—always cold, delivering verdicts like sword strikes—hesitated when judging someone.

Tap—

After tapping the tip of her umbrella against the floor several times, she replied calmly:

“I don’t know. It’s difficult to predict.”

“...And that’s all?”

“But... if he endures, perhaps he will bring some favorable changes with him.”

At that, Grand Crow only smiled faintly.

“A man who brings favorable changes, huh. Yes, Golden Fox sent a report in exactly that spirit.”

His one eye, the one not hidden behind the patch, fixed on the Sanctuary’s entrance. As if he already saw the future in which the candidate crossed that threshold. A quiet murmur followed.

“He received the highest evaluation from that picky Golden Fox, managed to detect the hidden ‘Serpent’s Nest,’ and showed excellent results on the entrance exam he took alongside you. But most importantly...”

Moon Wolf picked up the thought:

“...He destroyed the tracked Mother of the Asin class, dealt with the gang cooperating with Luthien, and helped every captured victim escape.”

“Yeah, the support unit guys were completely shocked. They said the candidate they thought was a slacker turned out to be a genuine prodigy.”

Grand Crow continued with a kindly smile:

“No candidate has ever had achievements like this before joining... and no one has been burdened with hopes like these. No one except you. Isn’t that right?”

“...Me?”

“Well, in your case it was even more serious. A very young girl came to me, casually holding a bishop’s head in her hands. I still get chills if I remember that night.”

“......”

“Still...” Grand Crow stroked his beard and narrowed his eyes. His lips were still smiling, but his gaze deepened. “If I add up all the reports... I’m wondering if I should send him straight into ‘That unit.’”

Moon Wolf didn’t even have time to voice her concern. A sharp voice cut in from behind.

“You’re joking, Master, right? If a greenhorn like that goes there, they’ll bring him back in a coffin in three days.”

“...Cheonmae.”

Cheonmae of the Executive Division. Tall and lean. Behind her mask, her eyes shone with a cold, translucent blue light. Her short hair, cut like grass, flashed viciously in the light—like knife blades. An enormous longbow hung on her back, far taller than its owner. Her whole presence felt like a predatory bird.

...Though her personality was far from that.

“Cheonmae.”

“What!”

When Moon Wolf called her, Cheonmae snapped back on reflex. Since Moon Wolf always spoke to her in a lecturing tone, her body reacted first. And sure enough—

“I understand you’re upset your candidate failed, but leave personal grudges outside official meetings.”

“...I’m not upset at all! Who do you take me for, some petty little girl? And anyway! You’re the one who should be thinking about whether you can be so sloppy with your duties.”

“What do you mean?”

Cheonmae snorted and continued.

“Your candidate! I was expecting the genius of the century, judging by how you raved, but in reality he looks like a total weakling. I honestly doubt he passed the exam fairly.”

Despite the slight against her protege, Moon Wolf remained unruffled.

“So you went to look at him? And when exactly was that?”

“...Uh.”

“It seems the rules mean nothing to you.”

Cheonmae’s ears instantly turned red.

“S-so what! Can’t a division commander take a look at a rookie who’s about to come in? ‘Serpent’s Nest’ went off to escort him, and he’s not even a commander!”

Now it was Moon Wolf’s turn to be surprised.

“Serpent’s Nest...? Escorting the candidate?”

“Yeah! He said he’d bring him personally and left for the rendezvous point.”

Cheonmae finished in an irritated voice:

“Anyway, we’ll see what kind of ‘blessing’ your great candidate gets.”

“I’m curious myself.”

“...Good grief. Not a single word yields.”

At the very end of the initiation ceremony, the candidate comes face to face with the “One-Eyed King”—the deity who protects “Night Raven” and is under contract with Grand Crow.

It was the so-called time of appraisal. That eye pierced many things.

A candidate’s past, their true nature, their potential. Anyone lacking ability or hiding malicious intent would be exposed and expelled immediately. And only those who passed this second appraisal finally received a “blessing” and a “codename.” A powerful gift that could become a weapon, a skill, or a stat.

“This is where it gets interesting.”

The One-Eyed King was a strict believer in meritocracy. The quality of the blessing varied enormously depending on the candidate’s potential and ability.

“Let’s see if he gets a better blessing than my candidate did.”

The candidate recommended by Cheonmae had recently failed to enter the Executive Division due to objections from the acting leader Moon Wolf and had been transferred to the Combat Unit. So it stung badly for Cheonmae to see a guy who, at first glance, seemed far weaker, aiming for the Executive Division.

“All right, all of you, disperse.”

Grand Crow—who had watched the quarrel between his two subordinates with a grandfatherly smile—raised a hand.

“In front of your juniors, seniors should keep face.”

Step, step—

Just then, several hooded silhouettes entered through the main ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) entrance. At the front of this group of people, who were feeling their way along blind, the escort moved his lips soundlessly—Serpent’s Nest, Jedriel:

“I brought them!”

The rookie candidates. They would be given one day of rest, and then the initiation procedure would begin.

“Hm...”

And, as if by agreement, the gazes of the three present snapped to a single point. The candidate in the middle of the line, who looked unusually calm.

“......”

“O-ho.”

“Tch.”

A range of reactions followed.