Surviving without God

The subsequent course of events resembled the previous life — but with subtle differences.

Prrr-rah!

A red flare blossomed in the sky. Before Levain and Parco could even react in surprise, a shadow materialized before them. It was Gunther, his eyes shining with an unsettling intensity.

— Levain, the flare.

— ...What?

— Do you trust me?

Death in the previous iteration had borne fruit after all. The “Affinity Inheritance System.” That function allowed a certain level of closeness to be retained even after regression, provided it had been accumulated before.

And indeed, though Levain tilted his head in confusion, he handed over the magic pouch first. Even Parco, who in the previous life had rushed and pressured him, stood still this time, showing patience.

Prrr-rah!

Now a red flare shot up from Gunther’s side. Without wasting a second, he spoke into the Operate Link:

— Dimona, coordinates J-17-Δ3-14. Plot the shortest route.

[...Gunther? What coordinates are those? There’s nothing registered there...]

— After the Restructuring, everything changes.

[Excuse me?]

Those were the very coordinates where, in the previous life, he had found Tarsha and Blanc. Because of their injuries, they hadn’t managed to move far even after the terrain shifted. If they hurried, they could regroup faster than last time. In this life’s “plan,” speed was paramount.

“Good thing I memorized those coordinates just in case.”

Exploring the Labyrinth was dangerous enough as it was. Gunther was no optimist. He never assumed he’d only die once. He prepared for everything.

...Though he hadn’t expected to be saddled with the worst debuff in history.

Screeeech!

— Hold tight!

Gunther cleared the restructured terrain faster than anyone.

“Debt... I need to pay off the debt.”

The moment he imagined Ryan bursting into laughter at the sight of his thinning hair, his stamina limits seemed to retreat on their own.

[Thanks to your iron will, you ran beyond your limits]

[Stamina increases by 1]

— Tarsha, Blanc. I’m here to save you.

Gunther’s group successfully reunited and now numbered five. Thanks to inherited affinity, even Tarsha and Blanc reacted slightly differently this time.

— My class is Commander.

In the previous life, that line had drawn only ridicule. Now it was different.

— Hm, Grand Crow entrusted a rookie with commanding us? Just how much does he like you?

— W-wait! And what’s my hierarchy now?! Am I the youngest again????

They hadn’t fully accepted him, but at least there was no cold cynicism. Only reactions tinged with curiosity.

— From now on, I would ask that you refrain from such impulsive actions. That’s my opinion as a fellow platoon member.

Even the criticism that once earned him sharp rebukes now landed differently.

— ...You’re completely different from the previous commander. Looks like we’ll butt heads in the future.

— Th-that’s only because you don’t understand the identity of the Fourth Platoon! You really don’t!

As for Parco and Levain, there was nothing to say. The way Gunther moved with certainty, already knowing the coordinates, made him appear far more competent than in the previous life. That alone earned him additional affinity.

And yet, despite everything going smoothly, Gunther’s face remained grim.

...It wasn’t just the hair loss.

— Levain, could you hit a target from about one kilometer away?

— I’ve never tried... but in open ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) terrain, I think it’s possible.

— What if the area is packed with obstacles? Not from an ambush — while moving, chasing a target.

Levain shook his head without hesitation.

— ...Impossible. You’d have to calculate trajectory, wind correction, and gravity in a severely disadvantageous position, all within seconds, and secure perfect visibility. The conditions are too harsh.

The more Gunther recalled it, the clearer it became — the sniper who killed him had been a monster.

“Society of Forgotten Books... what kind of freaks are you?”

Right after regressing, his thoughts had been simple. Since the scarred man served as a link, he had planned to contact them immediately. Whether through battle or negotiation, they were tied to Ancient Gods — there was something to gain.

But once the initial excitement faded, unease set in. Even setting aside their aggressiveness — their willingness to kill on the spot merely for possessing an item...

“This is too strange.”

Why had they barely appeared in the official story or reality? Why reveal themselves now? ...And should he even approach them when he lacked Karma — his greatest weapon?

Gunther slowly pressed his palm to his forehead. An inexplicable, fundamental wrongness rose from deep within his chest.

“Something isn’t right.”

In truth, , which he had once praised as a masterpiece, wasn’t a “perfect” game. The grand narrative, charismatic characters, meticulously balanced combat system... all of it was magnificent.

Yet at the same time, there had been glaring holes. Certain storylines cut off halfway. Crucial clues left unresolved. Back then, he had blamed the limitations of a small development studio.

But perhaps those holes were—

[Gunther]

Tss—

[Gunther, 15 seconds until arrival at second coordinates. Prepare.]

At Dimona’s voice, Gunther snapped his head up.

Clang!

Cries and the ringing of steel echoed below. The second coordinates — the clash between adventurers and Luthien. The chaos in his mind vanished instantly. Gunther assessed the situation at once.

— Aaaah! Kill them!

— Don’t retreat! Hold formation!

— God’s judgment upon the heretics!

The battle raged on a loading platform. On a vacant lot scattered with massive containers, fanatics and adventurers were locked in a bloody struggle.

...Gunther and his group stood at the very top of a crane. Beneath their feet, unstable steel beams. The wind bit at their skin.

But there were two advantages: the battlefield lay fully exposed before them, and no one knew their location. Gunther leaned boldly over the beam and looked down.

“Good... I’m not late.”

Last time, the adventurers had already lost hope, waiting for execution at the hands of Luthien’s fanatics. Now the fight was still in full swing.

Fortunately, at this distance Masochism didn’t trigger immediately, allowing Gunther to observe calmly.

[Alphonse of Red Street points and says he has found the man with the scar]

Hoo—

— Come on then, you sons of bitches!

At the center of the battle stood the scarred man. He spun twin daggers with terrifying speed, as though deflecting raindrops in the heart of a storm.

But despite his prowess, things were going badly. Other adventurers were beginning to succumb to fear, their resistance faltering. No matter how seasoned they were, being surrounded by dozens of fanatics was no small matter.

— Haa... haa...

...If not for his unnaturally high skill level and refined dual-blade technique, the scarred man would have already been overwhelmed. Since anyone who approached fell grievously wounded, the fanatics hesitated to rush him head-on.

[The King of Ninety-Nine Defeats narrows his eyes]

[He claims the technique is familiar]

“----!”

Voices rose from below. The higher-ranking fanatics were speaking.

Gunther concentrated mana into his ears.

— That one’s not bad. Let’s take him alive for sacrifice. Orders from above — we need him to break the barrier below.

— Impossible. He’s resisting too hard. Want to lose everyone here? Kill this one and we’ll make do with the rest.

— Tch. Fine. Can’t be helped. Prepare “Harvest.” I’ll cover.

The next second, a sinister blue-black glow ignited at a fanatic’s feet. In the air, a complex pattern slowly began to trace itself, writhing and spreading like the roots of a living plant.

“Harvest.”

Gunther knew the skill. A high-level human-targeted spell of the Cult of Abundance. It required lengthy preparation, but once activated, its speed and power were devastating. In the chaos of battle, dodging it was nearly impossible.

“...So that’s how he died.”

The image resurfaced — the scarred man lying with a massive hole in his chest.

If nothing changed, he would die. And with him, the only link to the Society of Forgotten Books would vanish.

...A small temptation crept into Gunther’s mind. An instinct. The urge to avoid something ominous. Interfering unprepared could invite disaster. Perhaps now was the perfect moment to walk away.

Besides, the scarred man was a villain. No reason to feel guilty letting him die.

A minute of silence. The battle noise dulled. Only his own breathing echoed in his ears.

— Hah... let’s go.

— What? Go where?

...We’re on a crane! That’s over ten meters to the ground!

The moment Levain and the rest of the Fourth Platoon looked up in confusion, Gunther’s legs were already moving.

[The One Who Runs Ahead of the Wind watches you]

[Immunity to fall damage!]

Wind roared past his ears. The crown of the fanatic casting “Harvest” filled his vision.

“Damn it... here I go again.”

It couldn’t be helped. Walking away with doubt in his chest wasn’t his style. Gunther plunged straight toward the black sigil.

— E-enemy...!

The fanatic reacted too late.

Crunch—

The tip of the longsword pierced his skull in a single stroke.

Boom!

His head, his body, and the nearly completed magic circle exploded outward in fragments.

“......”

Silence fell over the battlefield. Fanatics and adventurers alike froze, staring at Gunther — who had descended from the sky.

Scrape—

Ignoring them, Gunther yanked his sword from the ground. He locked eyes with the heavily breathing scarred man. The man seemed to instinctively recognize him as an ally and began to relax—

But the moment he recognized Gunther’s sword, his expression changed.

— H-heretic! Kill the heretic!

— ...Do not retreat! In the name of the Holy Lord!

The fanatics snapped into formation. But the word “victory” had already disappeared from their faces.

Whoosh— Thud!

The reason was the succession of landing sounds behind Gunther.

Four silhouettes touched down in perfect balance. Through the rising cloud of dust, weapons glinted coldly in each of their hands.

— Hey, you fucking cultists. Don’t we look cool?

Tarsha spread her arms wide, flashing a radiant grin.