Surviving without God

Gunther froze motionless, staring at the corpse. There was no strength left in the hand gripping his sword. Because of such incomprehensible behavior, the brows of the “Table Companions,” who had rushed in pursuit, drew together at the bridge of their noses.

“What the—”

“Cut off his limbs first!”

They had seen this countless times before. The final moments of fanatics who swallowed poison to kill themselves just before interrogation. They could not simply let go of the thread leading to the Night Raven that they had struggled so hard to uncover. That was why they tried to neutralize him in advance.

Fwoosh—!

The tips of the blades pierced Gunther’s tendons and muscles like lightning. In an instant flesh split open, tendons were severed, and the horrible sound of tearing tissue echoed through the corridor. Scarlet blood sprayed in all directions.

But no scream followed.

“What?”

The light was already fading from Gunther’s pupils.

Ptoo!

Spitting out a lump of blackened, dead blood, he collapsed forward limply, falling across the headless body of his comrade. Looking at the fallen Gunther with irritation, the Table Companions only then realized—

one of his teeth was missing.

And from that empty socket flowed black blood mixed with shards of glass and poison.

“Savage bastard...”

“Hah, is he insane or something?”

There was genuine astonishment in their voices. They had seen plenty of fanatics willing to commit suicide. But never anyone who constantly carried inside himself a device capable of killing its owner the moment the jaw clenched the wrong way.

Rustle—

The Youngest, unwilling to give up, rudely pried open Gunther’s eyelids to inspect his eyes and tilted his head.

“But why did he even come here? Wanted one last look at his lover’s face before dying?”

A moment later the Eldest muttered quietly.

“...Documents. He was looking at the documents the corpse was holding.”

“Huh?”

“Strange. At the moment of death—why the documents...”

An odd silence settled over the office. The question remained unanswered, hanging above the two cooling bodies.

***

Clink!

Gunther opened his eyes in the familiar space of Return After Death.

[You have died]

[Calculating death records]

[16/99]

The messages updating before his eyes were familiar.

[Life cycle reset detected]

[Unlocked: Trait “Godslayer”, unique skill “Deicide”]

[Unlocked: Trait “???”, unique skill “Reading”]

As usual, a window showing skill rollback information appeared and disappeared—

[#16 The Life of a Long-Tailed Fox]

-You’re a cheeky bastard who got his tail stepped on, but a fox is a magical creature. Even in the worst situation you wriggled out and prepared for the next life! Well done!

Following that, the status window that usually mocked him strangely mixed praise into its message.

[Calculating Karma...]

Waiting for the next message, Gunther replayed his previous death in his mind.

He had swallowed the “Flower of Silence” immediately after activating the skill “Eyes of the Tyrant.” Because of that, by the time the Table Companions’ blades pierced his body, his consciousness had already been fading. The pain had been nothing more than a phantom.

“Though, just as Sharin said, it’s an effective suicide method.”

But that did not bring ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) him any satisfaction.

“Brody.”

When he had first entered the office, what Gunther saw was Brody’s decapitated corpse and the documents her pale hands had not released even in death. Documents whose contents were impossible to understand at first glance.

But Gunther was certain.

Brody would not have died clutching meaningless scraps of paper.

“These are definitely documents related to my request.”

He remembered Brody saying that today she had finally obtained decisive clues regarding his orders. The hidden cultivation technique and the Society of Forgotten Books. Those two leads had to be there.

That was why, before dying, Gunther had forced his way to the office, desperately engraving the tangled rows of numbers and codes into his memory as if copying them.

“...Aside from clues about the Society of Forgotten Books, what I need right now like air is the location of the hidden cultivation technique.”

The details of how the Table Companions had traced Brody’s office were unknown. But one thing was clear: they had been drawn here by the search for information about the Society of Forgotten Books and Ellen Beyra.

“...I was careless.”

He had not expected them to still be monitoring a group that had vanished long ago. It seemed the hostility with the Luthien Theocracy ran much deeper than he had assumed.

“The problem is...”

He had assigned Brody that request about a month ago. No matter which point he returned to, the mark of “a fixer handling suspicious orders and their client” had most likely already been placed. In other words, no matter when he returned, the Table Companions’ visit was inevitable.

Then the answer was simple.

If battle could not be avoided... he had to raise his “weight class” by any means possible.

Otherwise the only path was endless regression.

Fortunately, the hidden cultivation technique Brody had been tracking was not an ordinary demonic art. It was a technique left behind by a legendary figure whose destructive power ranked among the greatest in this world. If he mastered it, there was a chance he could break through the Eldest’s defense.

In fact, it was practically the only path capable of overturning the battle in the shortest amount of time.

“I could ask Night Raven for help...”

But that was only a last resort. Just as Night Raven monitored the Luthien Theocracy, the Theocracy monitored Night Raven. The moment the organization’s forces were drawn in, everything would turn into a war of attrition.

“And that would be guaranteed defeat.”

Night Raven was already suffering from a lack of manpower, and many of its key forces were tied up on external missions. Worse, it would only concentrate the Luthien Theocracy’s attention even further on them. He might repel the current threat, but the future would become even more dangerous.

“If anything, the Society of Forgotten Books is better.”

An organization whose members even the Luthien Theocracy could not identify. They knew how to operate without leaving traces. If he managed to make contact with them, he could obtain the information and power he needed without provoking a full-scale war between organizations.

That was why he had tried with all his strength to obtain both pieces of information Brody had left behind in this life.

[Karma calculation complete!]

[Karma gained in the 16th life: 355]

[Remaining Karma: 390]

[Accumulated Karma: 2505]

Just as the message said, Gunther had made the best possible choice even in the worst situation. Yet his expression remained grim.

Because he sensed a heavy future ahead.

“I’ll probably have to die another ten times. Maybe twenty.”

The hidden cultivation technique was a reliable way to rapidly increase his power level, but the path to mastering it was pure hell. And the battle with the Table Companions, honestly, inspired no optimism.

All of this was the result of an unforeseen domino effect rolling in the wrong direction.

But what could he do?

As always, he would have to charge forward, fall, and stand up again.

“Just like in Act 1, Chapter 1.”

Gunther, prepared for countless future deaths, stepped onto the starting line of regression.

“Let’s go...”

...but something was wrong.

The space that should have flared with light after the Karma calculation—signaling the start of regression—remained silent. Only a cold, oppressive stillness remained. No indication of a “save point.”

Gunther looked around in confusion.

Regression had never been delayed before.

“What is this? Why is this happening?”

The moment unease began creeping into him, wondering if something had gone wrong, a dim message appeared before his eyes, as if blurred beneath the surface of water.

Clink!

[A gift bestowed by ◆ is activating]

***

“...Hah.”

Gunther noticed his body was covered in sweat. And that his breathing was slightly uneven.

His gaze carefully surveyed his surroundings.

The setting winter sun and excited shouts filled the vacant lot.

“Want some?”

A packet of cheap cookies was held out toward him. The tired eyes that met his brightened, and she smiled.

For a moment, Gunther could not take his eyes off her.

“Gunther...? Are you okay? You’re making a strange face.”

“Brody.” 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

“...What? Why are you staring like that?”

He silently extended his hand.

“Just so you know! Only one. I won’t give you more.”

Crunch.

Gunther took a cookie and put it into his mouth. Along with the crunch, a sweetness spread across his tongue—so strong it made his teeth ache. As people who treat others often do, Brody watched him, waiting for a reaction.

“Tasty? An adult probably wouldn’t like something like that.”

“Ah... sweet.”

“What?”

“...Sweet.”

Gunther took a deep, very slow breath. It felt as if, if he held it even a second longer, his violently pounding heart would burst.

“Too... sweet.”

“Is it really that sweet?”

A gift, huh.

That’s exactly right.

If this wasn’t a god’s gift, then what was it?

His gaze locked onto the densely written message log.

[Gift bestowed by ◆ is activating]

Gift: Death Is My Power.

-Death through inheriting part of the killer’s power. However, the range is limited and applicable only once.

[Your killer: Yourself]

[Condition not met]

[...Error occurred! Inheritance postponed until the next life]

At first he did not understand what it meant.

But soon a chill ran down his spine.

“They give me the abilities of the one who killed me?”

◆ must have intended for Gunther to die without knowing the nature of this ability. To be killed by someone else without even suspecting anything—and inherit some miserable ability. Only then would he beg ◆ for a second chance.

It was such a powerful ability—no, the word powerful was catastrophically insufficient to describe it.

Who killed you?

Depending on that choice, the value of this power differed like heaven and earth.

Gunther felt dizzy.

“What if I had died at the hands of the Table Companions?”

His blood rushed to his head.

In the grand scheme of the scenario, they were nothing more than mediocre mid-bosses. Their traits and skills were at best epic tier. The Youngest’s Sound Echo and the Eldest’s Stench Descent were merely small skills that lost value by the end of the scenario.

“In any case, activating such an ability at the beginning of Act 1 would be a pure loss.”

But unexpectedly, he had committed suicide.

Because of that, the true nature of the device prepared by ◆ had been revealed for nothing. A path had opened to use this gift to its maximum potential.

“Under no circumstances can I waste it.”

It was a shortcut that could overcome deaths whose number was unknown.

Gunther looked at Brody with burning eyes. She, caught off guard, began to stammer.

“Wh-why are you looking at me like that again?”

“Brody... listen to me. Don’t think it’s strange.”

“Hmm, when someone says that, it usually means something strange is coming...”

Gunther pulled out a sheet of paper from inside his coat and quickly wrote down the rows of numbers and ciphers that stood before his eyes.

Less than a minute passed before Brody’s expression, watching him, changed to astonishment.

“Wait, Gunther? What is this... No, how is this possible? Did you climb into my head and pull this out?”

“You can decipher these symbols, right?”

Just the right person had appeared to kill him.