Surviving without God

When “◆” first appeared in the status window, Gunther vaguely sensed they were destined to meet. After all, there had already been a precedent with “◇”.

◇ and ◆.

Bizarre, transcendent deities whose existence could not be explained by the store of knowledge he possessed.

However, since ◇ had granted Gunther an unbelievable reward in the form of the “Godslayer” stat, it was also true that he’d harbored hope: ◆ might give something comparable as well. But Gunther knew.

In this world, nothing is free. ...And as it was, there were already more than enough variables without him thoughtlessly accepting favor from something unidentified.

— Sorry.

— Mm?

— Right now I’m too broke to make deals. How about you drop by later?

At Gunther’s refusal, the corners of ◆’s lips curved, just barely. And then came an answer that surpassed every expectation.

— It’s fine. This time, you don’t have to give anything.

...Gunther couldn’t help being thrown off by those words. When it came to deals, deities could never lie. That was the law of this world. ◆ couldn’t be an exception. Meaning he really had come to give something away for free.

— No... But why?

— It seems to me that if we leave things as they are, my brother/sister will take you entirely for themself. Isn’t it sad—to end everything without ever even getting a chance? Isn’t it?

When Gunther narrowed his eyes, trying to read his true intent, a low laugh echoed through the air. The too-symmetrical, inhuman face spread into a smile.

— My, my, Gunther. Do you think I’m some demon inciting villainy just because my brother/sister issued a reward for a good deed?

— Aren’t you? You’re all black, too.

— No, no. Please, don’t lock us into that infantile dichotomy. Black and white don’t always mean good and evil. That’s true.

When he laughed, an inexplicable impulse flashed through Gunther. He wanted to laugh along with him. Yet at the same time, instinctive resistance reared up, trying to shake off the spell.

— ...Then what? What exactly are you going to give me? And what do you want in return?

◆ took a step forward. The tips of his shoes touched the snow, but no footprints remained. His clothes didn’t flutter in the wind, either.

— Let’s postpone the pleasure of figuring that out until later.

— What?

— In any case, the terms are simple. I’ll pay the price, and you just enjoy yourself.

...At that moment. Gunther’s body suddenly swayed.

“Damn... this feeling?”

It was exactly like the meeting with ◇. Back then, at some point he’d lost his mind and simply followed her, doing what she told him to do. That intoxicating sensation repeated itself perfectly. The only difference was that this time he could recognize the clouding of his mind on his own. But even that lasted only an instant.

[Failed to resist mental contamination]

Black emptiness embraces you coldly. There is neither warmth nor hostility there. Only silence, waiting for you.

◆ looked down at the unfocused Gunther and spoke in a strangely sorrowful voice:

— ...We aren’t hostile to you. Someday you’ll understand that.

Then he gave him a captivating smile.

— I’ll give you a small hint before we part. Listen carefully, Gunther.

Gunther obeyed, even as his consciousness faded.

— ◇ erased your failures. But I am the one who will make you, on the contrary, crave failure.

A brief silence fell, and his figure swayed faintly amid the falling snow.

— Then until we meet again.

That was the last thing.

[‘◆’ breathes life into your time]

The sound of the blizzard howling in his ears receded. Gunther’s consciousness slowly sank into an endless abyss.

.

.

.

On the watchtower where Gunther had vanished, ◆ remained alone. The place was filled only with the wail of the blizzard. But an alien noise cut into it.

Bzzzz—crack!

With the harsh sound of an electrical discharge, red sparks suddenly flared around him. The air warped, and snowflakes evaporated into thick steam before they even touched him. It was a strange sight. As if this world were a living organism, producing an immune response to his presence. ◆ let out a quiet sigh.

— I knew it, but still, you’re stingy. You won’t allow even this much.

The pain sank deeper and deeper. A searing torment, as if his skin were burning alive. Even so, he only frowned slightly.

But then. The sparks, growing endlessly brighter, vanished as if by magic. However, even greater displeasure showed on ◆’s face than when lightning had been searing him.

— Excessive interference...

At the same time, a sticky sensation seeped in along the edge of his consciousness. A whisper that took shape—layered voices barged in all at once.

[Cannot, ignore, grateful, you]

◆ answered that voice with cynicism:

— Even though that wasn’t my intention.

[Ha, ha, ha, ha—]

It was an extremely slow, long laugh. A strange sound floating in the void, carrying not even a clear emotion.

[You, too, think, that we, are right]

A minute of silence. ◆ murmured softly:

— ...It’s better than collapsing together with the truth.

A voice mixing compassion and cold sarcasm quickly drowned in the snow.

[Yes, it truly is]

The voice agreed gently and continued:

[Unexpected, conclusion, but, pleasant]

◆ twisted his mouth into a smile as well.

— It can’t be helped. Those parts are joined within me, so I’ll have to accept it even if I don’t want to.

His gaze drifted into the distance.

— Though my brother/sister will never agree.

Then he fixed his eyes in the direction Gunther had disappeared. In a dry voice, ◆ muttered:

— Even if the world is rotten and falling apart, living in it is still beautiful.

***

Fog in his head. Someone was calling him.

— Big bro handsome.

— ......

— Big bro!

Gunther opened his stiff eyes. And met green eyes looking at him reproachfully.

— ...Where have you been all this time, and why did you only come now?

He silently looked around. His head was foggy, like after a brutal hangover.

“...What happened?”

He’d lost consciousness at dawn, but it was already completely dark around him. His legs throbbed with heavy pain, like after a long walk, and a familiar landscape hovered before his eyes. The main gate of Brody’s mansion.

Had he... walked here from the Nest on foot? While unconscious?

— Big bro.

And Roanna. It seemed she’d been sweeping snow; with a straw broom in her hands, she looked at him, her nose red from the cold. Meeting that unusually offended look, Gunther finally parted his lips:

— Roanna...? Did something happen? 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

— “Did something happen”? Of course something happened!

She grumbled irritably, tapping the end of the broom on the ground.

— I cooked a whole feast for your return, and you suddenly evaporated~ The food all went cold~ And you were supposed to meet Sister Brody~ Do you know how long she waited for you? She’s a person for whom time is money!

...This time, Gunther could only stay silent. He was supposed to hear the results of ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) Brody’s investigation, but he’d ended up pulling a no-show. At that moment, Roanna—who’d been pouring out her complaints—suddenly fell quiet and changed the subject.

— Ah, right. A package came for you.

— ...A package? From who?

— Don’t know. There was just the number 9 on the wrapping, and no postmark.

Gunther’s eyes gleamed for a moment. Looks like that guy kept his promise.

— And Brody? Is she inside right now?

— No. She waited and waited and left for work. She rushed out with Uncle Eddie, they were in a real hurry.

— Went to work at this hour?

— She said an informant brought in some information... She said she’d be late, so don’t wait and just go to sleep.

Gunther let out a short breath and nodded. Seems he’d have to hear the report tomorrow.

“For now, it’s better not to wander around—just wait at home.”

This time he’d been unconscious far longer than when ◇ had endowed him with luck. He didn’t know what side effects there might be. And besides, he didn’t even know what exactly ◆ had given him this time. Only the hint given at the end rang in his ears.

“I’ll crave failure?”

Gunther tilted his head without meaning to. In this brutal scenario, failure meant death. Even if his death counter still allowed mistakes, thinking about the end, every life counted. So why would he crave “failure”?

“...I don’t get it.”

Complex guesses tangled in his head, but it was a problem with no answer right now. As always, Gunther decided to focus on what he could do at this very moment.

“While I’m waiting, I’ll practice.”

Lately, because he’d been so busy, personal training had slipped into the background. Brody said the leads for the hidden cultivation technique were almost ready. He needed to raise the mastery of the Art of the Pure Heart quickly so it would be easier to learn that great technique.

[The King of Ninety-Nine Defeats praises your diligence]

Gunther returned to his room, checked the package contents, and sketched out a plan for the future. After that, he immediately sank into training.

.

.

.

Ding!

[Mastery of the 2nd stage of the Art of the Pure Heart increases slightly]

After finishing a cycle of the formula, Gunther slowly opened his eyes. It was still dark outside the window. By his sense, about ten minutes had passed, but....

[Alphonse of Red Street grumbles that you sat motionless for over three hours]

“That long?”

A sharp smell rose from his sweat-damp back. Yet his body didn’t feel tired; on the contrary, it felt light, like after an excellent sleep.

Before, training had always been exhausting. There was a catastrophic lack of mana; it constantly broke off, and body and mind wore themselves out trying to hold onto that thin thread. But from the moment he absorbed the “Core of the Firmament” and his mana crossed 20. The dried-up energy channels felt as if they’d turned into small streams.

Hooo-ummm—

A state where mana flows through the channels on its own. With it, you can not only increase the hardness and sharpness of a weapon, but also sharpen perception and recover strength quickly. It felt as if all stats were working at 1.2 times efficiency.

...Naturally, certain expectations arose.

“How much stronger will I become if I obtain the hidden technique?”

In , there were only three mythical-rank cultivation techniques available to the player. What he’d asked Brody for was the location of the only person who had mastered one of them. Right now that person had lost all strength because of a side effect, but in the past he’d been a supreme master with crushing power. If you met certain conditions, he passed the technique on to the player. A mythical cultivation technique—“Flame of Eternal Torments”.

“Even this useful Art of the Pure Heart is only ancient-rank. There are three tiers between them—arguing about efficiency is meaningless.”

Of course, you didn’t receive that technique in a completed form immediately.

“At first it’s legendary-rank, I think?”

To turn the imperfect technique into mythical, it took many conditions and a lot of effort. But Gunther could already see through the process end to end. And he was certain that walking that path was the shortest way to get stronger in the current situation.

“Clearing the scenario on sheer grit like I am now is too risky.”

In fact, lately the desire to possess overwhelming power had been growing inside him at a frantic pace. In the end, the more people you’re responsible for, and the heavier the burden on your shoulders, the more you crave simple, reliable means.

“So I need to work even harder.”

He had become incomparably stronger than at the start, but the world was still full of monsters. Just take the Table Companion who had nearly killed him on the last mission, or the sniper from the Society of Forgotten Books. And the “◆” he’d just encountered possessed power whose upper limit was impossible to even imagine. The Seven Evil Gods of Luthien had to be at least on that level. On top of that, the mysteries surrounding him still lay beyond the edge of his capabilities.

Crunch

Finishing his thoughts, Gunther sat back down in the lotus position.

[Three gods support you]

Today he would focus on training, and tomorrow he would set aside time to get used to the new sword—“Straight Line of Despair”. With that final thought, Gunther’s consciousness was drawn back into the practice.

Ding!

[Mastery of the Art of the Pure Heart...]

Gunther only rose after a long time. Just as loud voices began to ring out downstairs in the kitchen.

“What’s going on down there?”