Surviving without God

— An hour earlier.

In the very heart of the Labyrinth, amid scattered fragments of mechanisms, an inappropriately cheerful voice rang out.

— Wow, finally the first floor! Just a little more, and we’ll see familiar faces.

— Y-you... you’re fussing like we haven’t seen each other in ages, even though it’s only been a couple of days.

— Baby, do you even understand what you’re saying? I haven’t seen our cuties for a whole week!

— U-uh... I don’t know about Levi, but calling Parco a “cutie”... T-Tarsha, is something wrong with your eyesight?

Two figures in battered gear trudged forward, exhausted. It looked like the depths of the Labyrinth hadn’t been kind to them: their bodies were covered in dust and wounds. The only thing that looked intact were their masks.

Tarsha in a golden dragon mask, and Blanc in a white rabbit mask. Tarsha was tall and slender, while Blanc had a petite build, almost like a child’s. From a distance, they looked like sisters with a huge age gap.

— B-by the way, the rookie’s coming today with them, right?

— Yeah. Levi said he’s a solid guy, so wait for it.

With a smile, Tarsha added:

— I wonder what he liked so much about him. That picky guy spent half of our short comms session just describing the recruit.

With a playful smirk, Tarsha rudely draped an arm over Blanc’s shoulder. Blanc tried to squirm away, but it was pointless.

Tarsha’s strength was abnormally great for a mage. And Blanc’s strength was abnormally small for a vanguard fighter. In the end, Tarsha settled her chin on top of Blanc’s head anyway and continued:

— Baby, are you ready to try on the role of the senior? Time to show the rookie the harsh discipline of the 4th Platoon.

Blanc clenched her fists decisively.

— I... I’m completely ready, so don’t worry. I’ll fully demonstrate my a-au-authority as the higher-ranked senior.

— O-oh, “a-au-authority”? Sounds promising.

— T-Tarsha!

Pushing away Blanc’s lunging face with her palm, Tarsha smiled charmingly.

— I hope he can drink.

However, the smile slid off her face rather quickly.

— W-wait, Tarsha.

— Shh.

The sounds coming from the direction they were heading were unsettling. Tarsha and Blanc immediately went still and hurried toward the source of the noise.

“!”

The sight before their eyes instantly blew away the last remnants of their joking mood.

— K-k-a-a-argh!

In the middle of a barren clearing, several adventurers were on their knees, being brutally tortured. And the ones attacking them weren’t the Labyrinth’s mechanical creations. They were people in deep black robes, holding enormous scythes.

Tarsha and Blanc recognized them right away. Over the past few days, they had run into them so often it was impossible to mistake them. The Cult of Abundance’s assault unit—«Golden Harvest».

— W-we have nothing to do with the ones you’re looking for! We’ve never even s-seen them... Khah!

The scream choked off under the soul-freezing whistle of a scythe slicing through a shoulder.

— K-h-h-h...

The body of the adventurer who’d lost an arm arched and then immediately went limp. But the fanatics didn’t stop. Another adventurer’s wrist was twisted with a crunch that rang clearly in the silence.

— F-for... for what are you doing this to us... We just came to earn a little money...

The man, apparently the group’s leader, sobbed as his head was pressed into the ground by a boot. Blood from his broken nose mixed with saliva and dripped onto the floor. The voices of the robed fanatics remained frighteningly calm.

— Hmm-m, looks like it’s not them.

— Strange. The «Ravens» should definitely have helpers inside the Labyrinth.

— Yeah. Otherwise they couldn’t have slipped away from us so neatly.

— Were you the «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» eyes for those filthy heretics? Confess.

With a face gone pale, Blanc turned to Tarsha at the same time.

— T-Tarsha, you remember Levain’s words, right? He ordered us not to engage until we regroup! Especially today—it’s too dangerous!

Tarsha tilted her head to the side.

— Yea-a-ah? Did Levain really say we should just close our eyes when innocents get into trouble because of us?

— I-in this situation, he would absolutely say that!

— Well then, he can go to hell.

— T-Tarsha-a-a!

Blanc looked ready to cry. There were about twenty enemies in the clearing. With Tarsha’s firepower, they could burn them down without difficulty. But right now they were practically in the very heart of the enemy camp.

The Labyrinth had just opened. If they drew attention, fresh Luthien forces would flood in. And among them, with high probability, would be the «Table Companions».

“Too dangerous.”

They were already exhausted from breaking through from the third underground floor to the first. Tarsha—the lightning mage whose mana “gluttony” was legendary—was at her limit, and Blanc, who had to protect her, didn’t feel any better. But there was no time left to think.

— Tch, useless trash.

Deciding the torture wouldn’t get them anything else, a fanatic raised his scythe over the adventurer’s throat. Tarsha spoke in a gentle voice:

— Baby, if not us, then who?

— I... I don’t know...

— You know what’ll happen to them.

Blanc squeezed her eyes shut.

— A-and what do you propose! We risk our lives for complete strangers?

— Don’t know about risk, but we’re jumping into a fight.

Tarsha shrugged and casually added:

— If we’re lucky, it’ll end well.

— I... I think that’s an absolutely idiotic plan!

— Baby, don’t grumble. Come on, you go first.

— I-if you’re acting like some tough woman, then go first yourself!

— Oh come on. If the shield-bearer stands behind the mage, the mage will be very hurt.

In the end, the moment Blanc took a forced step out into the clearing—

T-r-r-r-r-ack!

A blinding blue flash burst from Tarsha’s fingertips. All the scattered mechanical parts lying on the ground... meaning conductors, instantly reacted, flaring up like fuses.

Cr-r-ack!

Lightning, weaving together like chains, tore through the enemy ranks.

— K-a-a-a-argh!

Screams and sparks. A single bolt split into dozens and hundreds, brightly illuminating everything around them. Yet in that furious brilliance, not a single discharge touched the adventurers. All thanks to Tarsha’s astonishingly fine control.

— ......?

While the adventurers stared in shock, realizing their sudden salvation—

— Coo-coo! Take that, sinners!

A lightning-fast silhouette cut across the battlefield. The «Golden Harvest» fighters, though their bodies were still jerking from electrical shock, managed to react.

— Gha-a-a!

— It’s them! «Night Raven»!

— Spread out and attack! Kill the lightning mage first!

The situation developed exactly the way Blanc had predicted. The Luthien soldiers in the clearing couldn’t hold out against them for long. Under Tarsha’s onslaught they crumbled like autumn leaves, and Blanc didn’t let a single attack reach her partner, giving her the chance to cast at full strength. It was a perfect victory.

...But unfortunately, Blanc’s prediction came true in more ways than one. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

When Tarsha and Blanc were catching their breath, and the rescued adventurers were crying with relief—

— M-m-m, what an appetizing smell.

All eyes turned toward the entrance to the clearing. And then two silhouettes appeared—one massive, one skinny. And behind them—numerous Luthien fanatics.

— ........

This time, Blanc didn’t grumble. She simply covered Tarsha with her shield. No extra words were needed. Blanc and Tarsha drew a breath at the same time.

— ...Run!

The adventurers, coming to their senses, scattered, and Blanc dashed to intercept them—straight toward the enemy.

Pa-bah!

A red signal flare fired by Tarsha shot into the sky. She didn’t hesitate for a single second. And again, in the blue glow of flashes crossing the clearing—

— Time for a feast!

The «Table Companion’s» laughter blended with the battle cries of his underlings.

***

And now, the present again. The bright-red flare crumbled into dim sparks high in the sky. For a moment, Gunther even forgot he’d received “Masochism”—the worst debuff in —and simply cursed.

“Damn it, why?!”

Why was the save point set to such a catastrophically tight window? He’d expected it to happen at least right after entering the Labyrinth, but reality shattered his expectations.

“In that case, returning is completely pointless!”

There was absolutely no time to change anything. Had “Twisted Fate” affected even the save point? Before, save points had been chosen in his favor, but this time the game had stabbed him in the back. Meanwhile, Parco and Levain, pale-faced, were already about to sprint forward at full speed.

— The girls... they’re near the rally point! Move!

— It’s not far, hurry!

...No. Gunther didn’t move.

— Gunther! What are you doing? Run!

— We’ll explain later, move!

If they took the same route, they’d run into the “Restructuring” again. Then making it in time would be impossible.

He would see the corpses of the 4th Platoon again, enter an unfavorable fight with the «Table Companions», and die. Which meant the same future awaited them.

— Gunther! Why the hell are you frozen?!

— Damn it, if you won’t go, we’re leaving you here!

Under their pressure, Gunther reluctantly started moving. They really were ready to abandon him. But if he just charged straight in without creating a new variable, the ending would be the same. With every second, Gunther’s nerves tightened more and more. “Restructuring” would start soon.

“What do I do...”

How was he supposed to break through this dead end? If he stopped here—the 4th Platoon would die. If he rushed forward—they’d simply add three more bodies to the list.

Despair crept up to his throat, but Gunther didn’t give in. In this game, there was always an answer. If one path was blocked, there had to be another way through.

“Think from the very beginning.”

Gunther began carefully reconstructing the details of his previous life.

The clearing strewn with corpses. Tarsha and Blanc—masters whose power even the picky Levain acknowledged. ...And yet—the Younger and Elder «Table Companions» without a single scratch. Suddenly, it was like a lightbulb flared in Gunther’s head.

“That wasn’t a two-on-two fight.”

A war of attrition. From the start, they’d exhausted the enemy with numbers. And the Younger and Elder had simply watched from the sidelines, waiting for the moment.

— A-ha-ha-ha!

The Younger’s laughter from the previous life rang in his ears—how he’d deliberately wounded Levain and toyed with him until he was dying from blood loss. That kind of person—the type who, once convinced of victory, starts savoring cruelty. Habits like that didn’t change. With a massive army at their backs, they surely allowed themselves that same leisurely arrogance even in a fight with Tarsha and Blanc.

“In that case...!”

Even from here. Even from a distance where a hand or a sword couldn’t reach, there was a way to flip the situation. A way to exploit the enemy’s carelessness and keep the 4th Platoon alive until they arrived! Gunther abruptly stopped.

— Levain!

— ...What now?!

Levain turned, his gaze a mix of urgency and rage. Gunther, not wavering, held out his hand.

— Give me that.