Surviving without God

The Fourth Platoon of the Executive Division.

It was the exact moment Gunther realized who they were.

The man in glasses sitting beside him shouted sharply:

— Hold on tight! We’re pushing it!

Wuuuum!

The car’s frame exploded with acceleration, and Gunther’s body was slammed into the seat. Beyond the windshield, enraged enemies were already raising their weapons. Yet, despite his own warning, the bespectacled man pulled something from beneath his seat, sprang up, and shoved his upper body halfway out through the narrow window.

In the blur of rushing scenery, Gunther barely caught sight of what he was holding.

“...A gun?”

More precisely, it was a high-grade magical instrument that converted mana into magical bullets. Judging by the vehicle—clearly a Labyrinth artifact—the Fourth Platoon actively utilized magical tools.

— Eat magical rounds, you bastards!

He waved the barrel wildly from side to side. In an instant, shining magical projectiles burst forth, and the pursuers scattered with screams. But he didn’t stop firing.

— Hold me for a second!

Before he realized it, Gunther swore and grabbed both of the man’s calves with both hands. Bent in an inverted “L” shape through the window, the man pulled trigger after trigger. The vibration of the car and the recoil of the weapon jolted his body as if he might fly out at any second.

— ...Wanna try shooting too?

At the offer shouted from outside, Gunther immediately shook his head. With mana barely at 10, he’d exhaust himself before firing a few shots. He couldn’t afford such a pathetic first impression with future comrades. Instead, he focused entirely on keeping the glasses-wearing lunatic from tumbling out.

— Whew!

After firing dozens of rounds, the man finally pulled himself back inside and returned to his seat. The madness that had gleamed behind his lenses vanished completely. With a calm face, he looked like an entirely different person.

— Hm. You’ve got a good grip.

— ......

At that moment, Gunther recalled Grand Crow’s words.

“How should I put it... They’re all outstanding. In ability, and, well, individuality. Very vivid. Almost too vivid.”

He let out a quiet internal sigh.

“So... this is what he meant.”

The Fourth Platoon hadn’t existed in the official storyline. They had invaded his scenario when the game became reality. In other words, Gunther knew nothing about them. From now on, he would have to analyze them one by one.

— You’re from the Fourth Platoon?

The answer came from the driver’s seat.

— That’s right. That’s us.

His tone was relaxed, completely at odds with the situation. He even flashed a grin over his shoulder. Brilliant white teeth contrasted sharply against skin the color of strong coffee. ...Incidentally, neither of them wore masks.

— And drop the formal speech. Everyone’s on informal terms here. Except one person.

Gunther nodded.

— Then watch the road!!!

A wall loomed directly ahead. At the last second, the car spun sharply and slid into a side alley.

Crash!

Gang members who had set up a barricade were thrown into the air with the impact. Ignoring the chaos, the vehicle weaved through tangled backstreets. The driving was nearly divine. Like a Formula-1 pilot, the driver threaded through narrow passages without hesitation.

Gunther realized this wasn’t random escape.

They were moving with purpose.

— Where... are we heading? — Gunther asked immediately. — The two of you can’t make up an entire platoon. Are we meeting the others?

The man in glasses, polishing the weapon’s barrel, tilted his head.

— No. The rest are still in the operation zone. We were on a separate task and... happened to run into you.

— ...Happened to? Considering the streak of misfortune I’ve had lately, that’s unexpected luck.

A low, heavy laugh came from the driver.

— Hah. Been a while since anyone called us “luck.”

Gunther smirked faintly and turned to the window.

Then he froze.

— ......?

Over the past few days, roaming the Lower City, he had memorized the terrain. And he realized instantly—

They were heading into Luthien territory.

Deep into it.

After a steady breath, Gunther spoke flatly:

— ...I think we took a wrong turn.

The man in glasses replied without delay:

— We didn’t. Parco never gets lost.

The thin lenses of his glasses glinted faintly. Gunther felt as though he were being measured down to the smallest detail.

— Our mission was to handle something nearby. Originally, we planned to take you along, but...

The man in glasses and the driver exchanged looks.

— Hm. Seems you’re less prepared than we thought. In your condition, you’d just be a burden. You wouldn’t like that either.

— ...What?

— We saved you from a tight spot, so call it a win-win deal.

He grinned.

Clack!

And in that very instant, he kicked the door open—

—and shoved Gunther out.

— See you!

— Sorry! And welcome to the Fourth Platoon! Try not to die!

Hahaha!

Gunther landed in a soft heap of trash and stared blankly at the retreating pair...

Then his gaze shifted to the “thing” the glasses-wearing bastard had thrown out with him.

Cold, smooth metal.

A sinister heat radiating from within.

— Ha... what a deranged bastard.

A magical bomb slowly emitted rays of light from its bright red mana core.

[Magical Bomb — Detonation Pending]

Time Remaining: 5 seconds.

Pshhhhh—

Blue-green smoke began leaking out simultaneously. It was essentially an announcement to the entire district:

“I’m here.”

Now it was crystal clear what role the man in glasses had assigned him.

“Bait.”

Gunther clenched his teeth.

— Fine... I’ll start with this.

At the exact moment—

He hurled the bomb with all his strength.

BA-BA-BA-BOOM!

Violent mana spiraled outward in a vortex. Smoke and flash erupted together. ...Then came a fleeting silence.

Or rather, it only felt like silence.

Thud-thud-thud!

Numerous hidden footsteps awakened at once. Every force within dozens of meters converged toward the explosion.

[The King of Ninety-Nine Defeats is horrified by the morals of your new comrades]

[Alphonse of Red Street laughs, unable to suppress astonishment]

[The Drug-Addicted Saint suggests crafting poisons for torture]

Shing!

Ignoring the noise, Gunther drew his sword first.

...It seemed he had just «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» found the reason he absolutely had to become commander of this damned platoon.

.

.

.

[Personal Scenario Updated!]

Trust is not given freely. The Fourth Platoon, notorious for its ruthlessness toward those not officially enlisted. This is their harsh initiation. A trial meant to prove whether you are worthy of joining them. Success or failure here will determine your position and future within the Fourth Platoon.

Complete it successfully.

***

— G-Gunther? What happened to you? Are you okay?

— ...Do I look okay?

— No.

Ryan, approaching with concern, pinched his nose and stepped back.

— Ugh—did you crawl out of a sewer pit?

— Something like that. I’m heading in.

The moment he entered his room, Gunther went straight to the bath. Hot water poured over his head.

Shhhhh—

As dried blood, dust, and sewer filth washed away, the exhaustion of the past few hours eased slightly.

“...That was close.”

If the Operate Link hadn’t activated midway, the death counter would certainly have increased by one. The aftermath of detonating a bomb in the center of Luthien territory had been catastrophic.

...The Arcane Runner’s assistance had been even more so.

[37 meters ahead, beneath the stairs, is a safe zone]

[Northern gate unlocked. Pass within 15 seconds]

[11 Luthien soldiers entering in scattered formation. Shield unit in front, crossbow unit in rear]

[Lighting in this sector disabled. I will create noise—use it for a surprise attack]

[Three paladins and two priests approaching. Current strength insufficient for confrontation. Opening western drainage canal. Leave the battlefield immediately]

Dimona hacked magical instruments as if reading the battlefield like a map laid flat in her palm. To her, any magical tool possessing a “core” was nothing more than an eye or limb.

“...Is that level of competence even possible?”

He knew little about Arcane Runners, but Gunther acutely felt that Dimona stood on a completely different tier. Up until the moment he jumped into the drainage canal to escape, she guided him flawlessly without a single error.

Hard to believe she was the same girl captured by that pathetic smuggler gang in Act 1, Chapter 2.

“It would be good if she became an official ally.”

But he still didn’t know her true objective. The connection was strictly one-sided. Today’s situation had been critical—understandable.

If another call came, he would need to attempt a proper conversation.

“Alright. That’s clear...”

Gunther pushed back his wet hair and sank into thought.

There was one question that had bothered him from the start.

“What the hell are those Fourth Platoon idiots planning?”

The car that had thrown him out had clearly charged straight into the heart of the zone. Unlike the outskirts guarded by rabble, the center housed concentrated intelligence and key personnel. High-ranking paladins and priests swarmed there.

Why had they left the rest of their platoon and invaded such a monster den with only two people?

“...Well. I hope they’re fine.”

His irritation toward the glasses-wearing lunatic for using him as bait faded somewhat. He understood that Night Raven—especially the Executive Division—was a place ruled by meritocracy.

The man had judged him a hindrance.

And, objectively, that wasn’t entirely wrong.

That insane tactic had been the most efficient use of Gunther at that moment. The explosion had drawn massive attention at the perimeter, significantly easing their infiltration.

“Well. Now I know exactly what the Fourth Platoon is.”

Extremely radical. No nurturing atmosphere for rookies. Each member missing a few screws.

The future would not be smooth. Countless trials of skill likely awaited.

...Even so, promising himself he would overcome them all, Gunther shut off the water and dried himself.

— Hm?

The moment he stepped back into his room, good news awaited.

The creation of Nezzi had finally been completed.