Surviving without God

After completing their reload, the Fourth Platoon surged forward at full speed across the second floor. Their destination was the inter-floor portal leading to the third floor, where the relic was located. However...

— What the hell? Why isn’t it here?!

— Tarsha, calm down.

— Th-this is really strange. They appear less frequently on the second floor than on the first, but not to this extent...

Blanc was right. Although the frequency of portals decreased with each descending floor, they should not have wandered this long without finding one. And it wasn’t just the portals that had vanished from sight. There were no Luthien troops to be seen either.

During the past several hours of reconnaissance, the Fourth Platoon had encountered nothing but groups of adventurers, mechanical constructs, and patrols from the Public Security Bureau.

— Halt! Inspection!

They were stopped once for a check, but Gunther was not worried. The organization («Night Raven») had prepared their cover perfectly.

— ...So, fifth-rank adventurers.

After finishing the inspection, the Public Security Bureau soldier snapped a crisp salute. The emblem on his chest was familiar to Gunther — the exact same one adorned Seraz’s uniform.

— We have received reports that dangerous elements are causing disturbances in the Labyrinth. Apologies for the inconvenience.

— Not at all, officer. We understand your job isn’t easy, — Gunther replied.

— Thank you for your understanding. If you notice any suspicious individuals, take shelter in a safe location first, then inform us.

The soldier’s tone was polite. The city authorities, who would not even blink when dozens of vagrants in the Lower City died or were led to slaughter, were always courteous toward capable adventurers. After all, the taxes levied on the spoils dug out of the Labyrinth were the city’s lifeblood.

— ...Gunther.

When the patrol disappeared from view, Levain called out to him. He did not look well.

— We were right, weren’t we?

Gunther sighed.

— Yes. 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

— We’re too late. It looks like they’ve already gone down.

An inter-floor portal closes after ten people use it, and it takes considerable time before it appears again. It seemed Luthien’s forces had somehow monopolized every portal.

Gunther recalled Dimona’s words — that an exceptionally gifted Arcane Runner was working on Luthien’s side. Clearly, this was his handiwork.

Pshhh—

[Sorry. I reached the second floor late and failed you.]

— It’s nothing. This isn’t your fault.

Dimona was operating alone. Gunther had suggested they move together, but she was terrified of her identity being exposed. The fact that she was breaking through the dangerous Labyrinth alone and assisting them already deserved gratitude.

Gunther and Levain explained the situation to the rest of the platoon. The atmosphere darkened immediately: the enemy had gained significant ground, and the risk of losing the relic had increased.

— A-and what do we do now? I don’t want to end up empty-handed! — Tarsha exclaimed.

Gunther answered without hesitation.

— We switch to Plan B.

In truth, besides portals, there was another way to ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ descend.

Namely — “killing the boss.”

If a certain mechanical construct — a kind of “core” — was defeated, there was an extremely low chance it would drop a “Portal Creation Device.” With it, one could instantly move to an adjacent floor. But bosses spawned randomly, and the drop was not guaranteed, making the device difficult to obtain.

“And once taken outside the Labyrinth, it loses all function. You can’t buy one on the outside.”

It was a rare resource obtainable only within. Levain voiced the obvious concern.

— That relies too much on luck. We’d spend ages searching for a boss, and the drop chance is tiny. Besides... how do I put it, today doesn’t feel like luck is on our side at all...

Gunther, the true culprit behind “Twisted Fate,” flinched briefly but continued.

— No. Besides bosses, there are others who carry Portal Creation Devices.

— Don’t tell me... Scavengers?

— Exactly.

Originally, “scavengers” referred to those who roamed the Labyrinth collecting parts from broken machines and scrap metal to sell. But the meaning had changed. Now the word described bands of criminals and vagrants who had settled inside the Labyrinth and made a living through robbery.

Levain nodded in admiration.

— Of course... Those types would definitely keep a couple of devices for emergencies. To escape sudden raids or flee if something goes wrong while robbing adventurers.

— Yes. Exactly.

— Impressive, Gunther. It’s your first time here, yet you figured it out faster than anyone.

Gunther gave a short smirk.

— Either way, shaking them down gives better odds than taking down a boss.

Tarsha, smiling, immediately added fuel to the fire.

— Great idea, but will those cautious rats even show themselves? Not to brag, but we look pretty strong. They won’t attack us.

Gunther already had an answer.

— Then we’ll make them attack.

— How?

Instead of answering, Gunther looked at Blanc.

— There’s something they lose their minds over more than anything.

Blanc tensed for a second... then realized he didn’t mean her.

“...Oh?”

U-u-u-um—

“Seren Gless.”

An autonomous relic shield worth a fortune. Blanc wailed.

— Nooo, not that—!

***

A trembling voice echoed through a corner of the Labyrinth.

— I-it’s really here?

When the scanners first detected the relic’s signal, the bandits had refused to believe it. But once they reached the coordinates, they saw it. A massive shield lying alone in the wasteland. The scavengers’ eyes bulged.

— Unbelievable... A relic without scan protection? A fresh find?

But the true shock came next. The scavenger holding a measurement device screamed.

— Damn... This shield! Its Posa... exceeds ten thousand!!

The moment that number was spoken, all fear of a potential Public Security Bureau ambush vanished. Who in their right mind would use a ten-thousand-Posa artifact as bait for a bunch of ragged scavengers?

“O-oh, I can finally quit this filthy scavenger life.”

Even if sold cheaply to middlemen and split evenly, the money would allow three generations to live in luxury.

Thud—

Without speaking, they all rushed toward the shield.

Or tried to.

— Don’t you dare drool over my shieeeeld!

The desperate scream froze them in place.

— What?!

— Who is that? An attack?

Just as they were dreaming of a rosy future, an uninvited guest appeared. Fury flashed in their eyes... then turned into confusion.

— What the hell is this?

The voice belonged to a frail girl. She wore a snow-white rabbit mask that inspired not an ounce of fear. She ran at them unarmed, shouting loudly.

— Get lost!

One of the scavengers smirked and pointed his blade at her.

— Damn it, lately every nobody thinks we’re garbage.

These vagrants were not to be underestimated. Hardened by countless skirmishes, scavengers were dangerous. And there were seven of them against one. A clumsy brat like this wasn’t even worth an appetizer.

Whistle—

The sharp blade cut through the air. Far too brutal a strike for an unarmed girl.

In the next moment, everyone lost their voices.

U-u-u-um—

The attack froze midair.

And it was not the girl who stopped it.

The scavengers swallowed.

— W-what is that...

— An autonomous relic?

The shield that had lain motionless on the ground now floated in the air.

A terrible premonition gripped the bandits.

— Damn it! Kill her!

Too late.

Clang! Clang-clang! Clang—!

The mirror-smooth surface of the shield moved and rotated at tremendous speed, deflecting every attack aimed at its owner. Blades, clubs, even magical bullets failed to reach her. Ranged attacks were useless. Sudden lunges were meaningless.

“Wow...”

Watching from a distance, Gunther smiled faintly.

“First time seeing it in action... It’s even more impressive than I thought.”

He even felt a flicker of desire to purchase some magical tool for himself.

But it wasn’t over.

— Gunther, take cover, — Levain said.

— What?

— It’s about to explode.

Levain nodded toward “Seren Gless.”

That was when Gunther noticed the change.

Whirrrrrring—

With every deflected strike, complex patterns and circuits flickered beneath the shield’s surface. The flashes grew more frequent. The low hum intensified.

U-u-u-u-um—

Soon the ground itself trembled.

Gunther understood.

This shield wasn’t just defense.

It was charging something.

Parco grabbed his shoulder.

— At least fall back to here.

And then—

Flash—!

For a moment, the world turned blinding white.

— ..........

A moment later, Gunther cautiously peered from behind cover.

The scavengers were no longer moving.

They lay scattered across the floor like the rest of the Labyrinth’s trash.

Chest. Neck. Legs. Abdomen. The points of impact differed, but it did not matter. They were all dead instantly. From the dozens-of-centimeters-wide holes in their bodies, no blood flowed. The flesh had been seared by heat.

And in the center...

— Hehe... my shieldy.

Blanc pressed her cheek affectionately against the silvered mirror surface of the shield. In her other hand, she clutched a dark mechanical device.

A Portal Creation Device.

Gunther silently clenched his fist.

“Finally... the real game begins.”

It was time to head to the third floor of the Labyrinth.

***

The first underground floor had been a transport base. The second — a skyscraper zone.

The theme of the third underground floor was “Mountain of Garbage.”

This sector was piled high with countless scraps and construction debris. Because fairly useful parts were often found here, it was the floor where scavengers and adventurers lingered the longest.

In a place where order was a rare guest...

— Preparations for the ritual complete?

— Yes.

Only at one point — where the staff of the “Lord of the Oceans” had been driven into the ground — did a completely different scene unfold.

— Bring out the next victims.

Luthien fanatics, who had established a camp, hurried into motion. Soldiers had erected a full defensive base around the staff. They knew they were not the only ones hunting the sacred relic. That was why they had deployed every trap, every defensive artifact, and completely sealed off the entire sector.

— N-no! Yuria! Yuria!

A temporary prison stood at one side of the camp. From within came hysterical screams. Adventurers and scavengers captured by the cultists on their way to the third floor were locked in cages... and some were now being dragged out.

— I’ll give you everything I have! I have money!

— Aaaaahhh!

— Yuria! Take me first instead! Yuria!

— Jebel! Jebel!

Even as their fingernails were torn out and limbs broken, they clung to the ground and to each other, refusing to move. Because they had clearly seen what had just happened on the “table” before their eyes.

But under a merciless rain of club blows, they too were forced to stand upon the crimson-black magic circle.

— Aaaaah...

— Please, someone...

— Save us!!

No one would help them.

Beyond the camp, men in Public Security Bureau uniforms walked past, pretending not to notice. Having received bribes from Luthien, they would report to their superiors that the sector patrol had proceeded without incident.

U-u-u-u-um—

Thus, the ritual began.

Above the magic circle where the victims stood, dark shadows swayed. From black, sticky, formless smoke, a distinct shape emerged.

...It was a mouth.

A gaping slit opening in all directions, countless ridged gums writhing into view.

The victims screamed and tried to crawl away.

In vain.

Crunch-slurp—

The mouth descended without hesitation. Breaking bones and tearing flesh, it chewed slowly, agonizingly. The spilled blood and torn meat did not fall to the ground. Surrounding the magic circle, they were sucked into the core that pulsed like a heart.

Thud. Thud.

With that strange heartbeat, crimson-black smoke rose from the core of the magic circle. It lifted its head ominously like a serpent and—

Bang-bang-bang-bang—!

At a speed the human eye could barely follow, it shot toward the relic.

With a thunderous roar, the smoke surged into the sky.

— This time...

— O Jean Daet.

The fanatics watched with hope in their eyes, then, after confirming the result, hurried toward the tent at the center of the camp.

— The barrier... neutralized by 78%!

— 78%? Only an increase of 13%?

A corpulent man slammed a butcher’s knife into the table in irritation.

— Too slow. A hastily made magic circle is terribly inefficient.

In contrast, a lean silhouette began massaging his shoulders.

— It can’t be helped. We didn’t have time for a full ritual. I told you this would take a long time.

— ...Listening to you and placing “that” outside was a wise decision. — Yes. At least uninvited guests won’t take the staff from us.

Through carelessness, they had let two rats escape. The “Table Companions” had no intention of repeating such a mistake. Soon, «Night Raven» would counterattack. If they failed this mission...

“We’ll be the next ones on the table.”

Thus, once they realized the staff’s barrier was stronger than expected, they invested half their victims and half their energy into creating the “Great Circle of All-Devouring Feast.” It was a top-secret technique the archbishop had taught them specifically for this mission.

...Now that the “circle” was complete, whether it was «Night Raven» or anyone else — no one would set foot here.

— Prepare the next ritual.

At the senior’s command, activity resumed outside the tent. New magic circles were drawn where the “devouring” had just taken place. The remaining victims, sensing their turn had come, began to sob, their faces twisted beyond repair by despair.

.

.

.

— Damn... bastards.

Five pairs of eyes watched silently from the darkness, holding their breath.