Surviving without God

[Glad to see you, Gunther.]

The voice coming through the headset was completely distorted. Impossible to determine gender or age. The kind of mechanical modulation you hear in crime documentaries. However, Gunther immediately knew who it was.

[Was my assistance useful?]

— ...Very useful.

[Glad to hear it.]

Memories surfaced from a few days ago: the basement in the Lower City. The magical surveillance devices, every single one disabled. The locks that had opened on Eddie’s and the victims’ cells by themselves. And finally, Ryan’s call.

There was only one person capable of that level of support.

Dimona Ryen.

Act 1, Chapter 2. A powerful Arcane Runner he had encountered in the smugglers’ warehouse. She had finally made direct contact.

[You’re not asking who I am. Do you already know?]

— ...In my entire life, I’ve only met one Runner.

[Then this will be quicker.]

— Quicker?

Gunther paused briefly, considering how to approach this conversation. The way he had introduced himself to Dimona and spoken with her before had happened in a timeline that no longer existed. Fortunately, due to the inheritance effect of Partial Co-Regression, their connection had carried over, but—

‘It’s probably not strong.’

His counterpart was an elf deeply distrustful of humans, and an Arcane Runner extremely cautious about revealing her identity. One careless move could sever the relationship permanently. First, he needed to understand what she wanted. Knowing the goal meant knowing how to preserve the connection.

— First, I express my gratitude. If you want compensation for the help—

[That won’t be necessary.]

— Hm?

[I contacted you only to deliver a notification.]

The conversation was not unfolding as he had expected.

[For some time, I will continue to provide you with support at the same level.]

— ...Support? Why?

As if unwilling to answer questions or elaborate, Dimona quickly finished what she intended to say.

[If you require my help, keep that “Operate Link.” If not, you may destroy it.]

[And while I’m at it, I apologize for having observed... monitored you and your companions recently.]

[That is all.]

In a short, dry tone, she ended the connection.

Click—

At that moment, Brody’s patience, which had barely held as she listened beside him, finally snapped.

— G-Gunther! Did you just say “Runner”?! You know an Arcane Runner?!

.

.

.

After that, a week passed quickly.

Despite her promise to assist, there was not a single call from Dimona. Complete silence. Gunther even began to worry that she might have gotten herself into trouble. But of course, there was no way to determine her location. There was only one clue.

— I think she’s in the Upper City.

— ...How did you figure that out?

— This.

Brody pointed at the Operate Link.

— You can only obtain something like this in the Upper City.

According to her, the Link was a communication device manufactured from high-tier cores. And high-tier cores, along with all products made from them, were under strict monopoly of the Upper City. Trading them in the Middle City was forbidden. On the black market, such an item would cost no less than 1,000 gold. It hadn’t even been a month since Dimona’s rescue. What had happened in that short time for her to settle in the Upper City? Gunther couldn’t even begin to guess.

— Gunther, you’re some incredible big shot, aren’t you? Ah, I’m so glad we became partners!

In any case, the mere fact of having ties to an Arcane Runner filled Brody with a certain confidence. Confidence that by working with Gunther, she would one day fulfill her dream of entering the Upper City. For someone who traded in information, an Arcane Runner was the key to every treasury in the world.

— ...It makes me want to impress you even more, Gunther. In that case! I’ll make sure we see results from commissions this month. Just wait.

With those words, Brody left the estate together with Roanna. Gunther didn’t know why she had taken Roanna along, but she said it was for work.

Meanwhile, Eddie and Ryan spent their days in grueling training under Gunther’s supervision. Especially Ryan.

The second assembly was approaching. Gunther would most likely act within the 4th platoon, meaning Ryan would be assigned alone to a combat unit.

‘He’ll go to a training camp first, but...’

Soon enough, he might be assigned dangerous missions. Gunther had no intention of completing his own objective successfully only to return and hear of his friend’s death.

— ...I thought we’d be assigned to the same unit.

— Are you scared?

— ...It’s a strange feeling. Fifty-fifty?

— ...They don’t throw rookies straight into hell.

— And if they do?

— Then just run.

— You crazy bastard.

— I’m not joking. Survival comes first. If you survive, I’ll handle the rest.

— ...Oh, darling.

— Cancel that.

Gunther did not limit himself to words. He took Ryan to well-known “researcher groups.” The goal was to gain experience fighting adventurers of various classes. At first they expressed dissatisfaction at the sudden proposal for duels, but gold overruled complaints. Ryan worked himself to the bone sharpening his skills.

[Party member “Ryan Parker” gains +1 Endurance through intensive training]

[Party member “Ryan Parker” increases Agility by 1 after mastering incredible evasive maneuvers]

[“The Century Tree That Endures Thunder” watches party member Ryan Parker with interest]

The Century Tree That Endures Thunder. It seemed the deity Ryan had contracted with was also granting him various privileges. As a god tied to giants, perhaps it did not demand excessive compensation from Ryan—their distant descendant. Other than occasionally receiving lightning magic to the face?

— A-a-a-a-agh!

For a small fee, a mage from the researcher group happily provided that service.

And Eddie was working hard too. To Gunther’s surprise, he showed no less passion than Ryan. It seemed that after a series of life-threatening events, he had fully awakened.

— Gunther, if you’re not busy, I’d appreciate it if you looked at my swordsmanship.

He frequently requested personal guidance. Moreover, after each session he passed the techniques on to his subordinates. Brody’s Agency was gradually forming genuine combat strength.

And finally, Gunther himself. Since he intended to seriously interfere with the Executive Division scenario, he required decisive stat growth.

Specifically—mana.

Having reached the 1st stage of the Art of the Pure Heart, he had raised mana to 10, but the other stats still lagged behind. Reaching 20—the threshold for releasing Aura—was still a long way off.

[The King of Ninety-Nine Defeats grumbles that you must fix this horrific imbalance as soon as possible]

[He adds that due to your low mana, you are forced to rely on drugs]

There was truth in that. Mana itself functioned as a buff, amplifying other stats. But currently there wasn’t even enough to activate skills. Though he compensated with the Saint’s potions—

‘That can’t continue forever.’

Most importantly, mana increased resistance to divine power. At present, that was the ability he needed to prioritize.

‘Time to donate.’

Gunther emptied his savings, purchased trade goods, and headed straight to the Gods’ Shop.

[Ah, my lord. You have returned. I am Servant-Guide No. 28, Rakies.]

[I eagerly anticipate what magnificent deal you shall offer this time.]

The “servant,” noticeably more respectful than before, eventually began showering him with praise by the end of the exchange.

[Truly, how do you so precisely match the preferences of deities?]

[I cannot fathom the depth of your knowledge of myths and legends... If the renowned scholars of the Upper City learned of this transaction, they would certainly take interest.]

It was the result of combining veteran player knowledge with unexpected assistance.

[She Who Flies Ahead of the Wind gracefully shakes her feathers.]

She belonged among spiritual entities. Naturally, many deities of similar origin surrounded her, and most possessed abundant reserves of herbs and elixirs necessary for creating Nezzi. Whether to gain his favor or simply out of whim, She Who Flies Ahead of the Wind voluntarily acted as a kind of intermediary. Thus, the ingredients imbued with positive energy were gathered.

[The Drug-Addicted Saint lets out an excited cry.]

If processed properly into Nezzi, it would ensure steady progress in the Art of the Pure Heart.

‘Nezzi’s cooldown is over.’

He immediately rented an alchemical laboratory and began crafting.

[The Drug-Addicted Saint places her hands on her hips confidently.]

[She is certain the result will be far more magnificent than you expect.]

...He hoped so too. He had poured his entire fortune into it, including casino winnings. They said the process would take over a week to complete.

He spent his free time in the Lower City.

— Heretic! It’s the heretic—

— T-to defy the will of the gods... Kh—ack!

Purging preachers. It was a method not only to gain levels, but also to address the Karma debt.

— Follow them and you’ll die. Tell everyone you know.

— Y-yes?

— They’re scum in priest skins.

A “good deed”—saving those who were meant to end up in the womb of an evil god. Perfect for earning Karma.

...Everything proceeded smoothly. Training companions. Preparing Nezzi. Eliminating preachers.

All planned tasks advanced almost suspiciously well. ...And yet he did not suspect.

[Fate is being distorted]

Two days before the second assembly, an unforeseen incident occurred.

.

.

.

The first misfortune was trivial.

— I saw him... that heretic went into the southern alley! Black mask, long sword—

A Lower City resident whom Gunther had believed he saved secretly reported him to the priests.

— It’s that same bastard who’s been disrupting holy sermons and killing our brothers for days.

— Do not act rashly. He’s nimble like a rat. Contact the nearest branch first and gather forces!

That was tolerable. No matter how much rabble gathered, they posed little threat to Gunther after his stat growth. But when misfortune accumulated, the situation grew dangerous.

[Fate is being distorted]

During battle, a shard from a broken weapon struck directly into his eyebrow, blood flooding one eye and cutting off vision. On his escape route, a gang clash erupted # Nоvеlight # at the worst possible time, delaying his retreat. But the most critical misfortune was this—

Screeeech—

— ...What the hell is wrong with this?

The ghost elevator he had counted on for escape froze. Sudden malfunction.

Beep—

He pressed the Middle City button repeatedly. No response. Just hours earlier it had functioned perfectly. While Gunther kicked the door in irritation, enemy footsteps grew louder.

— He’s here!

— The blood trail leads this way!

— Unholy heretic. We’ll hang you at the stake.

Several priests and paladins. Along with them, hired gang mercenaries.

— ...They really prepared.

Gunther’s recent exploits had thoroughly enraged them. In the Lower City, free from oversight, they had mobilized enormous forces, flooding the streets.

Clang—

Gunther exhaled and forced himself through the steel door, stepping out of the elevator.

‘This is bad.’

He was exhausted from prolonged fighting. If he died now, the debt wouldn’t simply increase by 12%. The next life would begin with a fresh debuff. And he knew exactly how bleak that future would be.

Tap—

He tapped the headset in his ear... no response from Dimona. There was nothing left but to prepare for battle and stare forward.

‘...There’s one last option.’

Nearby was a secret Night Raven outpost. If he could break through, he could at least survive. ...Of course, that depended on escaping this dead end.

— There he is!

— Get him! He’s alone!

Two bandits rushed around the corner. Gunther lowered his stance and held his breath. Just as he prepared to strain his exhausted muscles again—

Vrrrrrroooom—

A deafening roar like an explosion erupted from the far end of the alley. Dull impacts. Piercing screams. For a moment, Gunther doubted his ears. Because—

‘No, wait... that’s—’

The rumbling sound closed in instantly.

Vaaaaa-wooooom—

With a vibrating engine roar, a luxurious four-seater sports car burst into the narrow alley.

...Yes. A sports car.

As Gunther stood frozen, the two bandits blocking the path slammed into the hood and were launched disgracefully into the air.

— Aaaagh!

— Kh—ack!

But Gunther’s gaze was not on the bodies flung aside like bowling pins.

Low, streamlined chassis. Massive air intakes and glowing engravings above the engine compartment radiating power. Silver magical circuits flowed softly across glossy black paint. Instead of wheels, levitating discs allowed it to glide over uneven ground. ...The low-frequency vibration came not from an engine, but from a core blazing beneath the hood.

It resembled a sports car from Earth—yet was entirely different, adapted to this world.

Wuuuuum—

It halted directly in front of him. The rear door, thick as armor, opened smoothly. A man in glasses extended a hand from inside.

— I’ll explain later. For now—are you getting in?

...That line. That moment. Was there anyone who could refuse?

As if enchanted, Gunther stepped inside. When the heavy metallic door shut behind him, he finally looked around the interior.

— ♩♬♪~ —

A large driver hummed to himself. And beside him, on the dashboard, a crow figurine engraved with the number “4” on its forehead greeted him, swaying gently from side to side.