Blanc opened her eyes. She saw the “uprising” flaring up in different parts of the estate.
The moment Gunther first spoke of a “separate operation,” she had guessed that in one form or another he intended to start a battle on the estate grounds. His expression had given it away. The experience she had accumulated over the past few months allowed her to recognize the stubbornness and recklessness of this new commander better than anyone else.
“He’s always trying to shoulder all the danger by himself, that idiot!”
But Gunther had another trait as well—he always fought where he was least expected. She had never imagined he would rally these “weaklings,” forcing them into a direct confrontation against the forces of the Cult of Repose. The very people originally judged completely useless in combat. But that had been a miscalculation.
“Everyone! Hold your positions!”
“Do not retreat!”
The residents and soldiers who had not been brainwashed united as one, stubbornly resisting those consumed by the indoctrination. Shouts rang out, bodies shoved against each other, but no blood was spilled.
The Cult of Repose focused on “suppression,” unwilling to kill future sacrifices, while the “rebels,” in turn, refused to harm their neighbors who were under control. Because of that, the clash dragged on, turning into a long and exhausting struggle.
And that was exactly what Gunther had been counting on.
Like a shadow, Gunther darted through the crowd. One by one, he eliminated the priests and paladins of Repose hidden throughout the settlement, identified the locations of the magic circles, and destroyed them. Watching him, the people found courage.
“Incredible...”
With trembling eyes, Blanc watched her commander.
She knew. Just as there are people gifted in singing or studying, there are also those born with the innate talent to inspire, to lead, and to make others follow them.
That was what the master of the school had been like—the one who first taught Blanc hand-to-hand techniques and energy control. That was what her former commander had been like, the one who treated the platoon’s soldiers like family. And that was what the current Gunther was like as well.
And Blanc loved people like that.
By herself, she was weak to the extreme. But if someone pointed out a clear direction and led the way, she could follow in their wake and somehow find strength within herself. ...This time had to be the same.
Blanc moved slowly after Gunther, replaying in her mind the “instruction” he had given her.
“The moment I start moving, you’ll probably be free very quickly. They won’t have time to focus on you.”
“T-Then...?”
“Hide your presence as much as possible and follow me. The moment will come. Then...”
The instruction had been vague. Even so, Blanc nodded. She did not want to betray Gunther’s expectations. But the more she thought about it... the more the anxiety in her heart grew.
Gunther’s face when he explained the plan. She felt as if she had seen that expression somewhere before. No, she knew she had.
“Blanc, listen carefully. Right now, you run with everything you have to this point and draw all attention to yourself. While that happens, I’ll escape.”
That tone of voice. That look. That calming smile.
It was exactly the same as the final moments of her former commander, who had sent her far away from the site of the brutal battle against the Society of Holy Flame before blowing himself up alone.
“No... this can’t happen.”
Her heart dropped into her stomach. A choking sensation rose all the way to her throat. The tips of Blanc’s fingers trembled faintly.
.
.
.
The flat of Gunther’s sword struck the solar plexus of a brainwashed knight with a dull thud. He collapsed to the ground. In one natural motion, Gunther turned the sword to its “edge” and spun his entire body.
Flash!
The body of the Repose paladin rushing him from behind was split in two.
Each of the Seven cults had its own fighting style. If the Cult of Abundance was famous for monstrous defense and regeneration, then the Cult of Repose specialized in debuffs. In the most literal sense—they imposed a “state of repose.”
If Gunther could see a status window, it would have been overflowing with messages about reduced attack power, slowed speed, delayed mana recovery, and all kinds of other negative effects.
However, the price for that was the cultists’ mediocre individual combat power.
“Come on, then!”
At the very moment Gunther’s sword was ready to cut down the enemy before him once again—
“...Kh.”
His breathing faltered for a fraction of a second. The battle heat that had just been blazing through his entire body instantly cooled, and powerlessness spread rapidly through his limbs. The strength in the hand gripping the sword drained away, and his mind blurred as if from severe intoxication. This was not the kind of debuff ordinary priests could impose.
“So they’ve finally targeted me.”
But not yet. Gunther gritted his teeth, forcing out that unwelcome “repose.”
“Don’t make me laugh.”
Hrrr—
The Flame of Eternal Torment ignited in Gunther’s palm and flowed over the blade. The Scarlet Flame lashed out for an instant, burning the priest and paladin in front of him. Before their screams could even fade, another sword strike followed.
[Level increased! / Lv. 81]
[Strength 70 → Strength 71]
“And Blanc...”
There was no time to look back, so Gunther immediately released “Serpent’s Nest” behind him.
“Good. She’s following.”
One small, light presence. She was keeping the exact distance. He had even passed her the Frost Ghost Robe, specialized for stealth, along with the Black Needle Pauldrons. As long as he drew all the attention to himself, no one would notice her.
“There’s also the Flower of Silence... but better to be safe.”
Gunther felt a brief sense of relief and looked ahead.
“Almost over?”
This was the final stage. In a short span of time, he had turned the estate upside down and managed to gather a massive amount of information. But Gunther understood that this chaos could not last much longer.
Screeeech—
In the distance, the massive gates of the inner fortress slowly opened. The low, heavy rumble of grinding metal. In the noisy estate, it should have been impossible to hear, yet somehow it entered everyone’s ears.
Shrrk—
And against the rays of the afternoon sun, a single figure emerged. Her steps were unhurried, as though she had merely come out for a stroll.
At that same moment, the brainwashed people parted like waves. Even those whose minds were clear, those fighting for freedom, recoiled in shock.
On the street packed tightly with people, a corridor formed in an instant. At the end of that path, she looked at Gunther with a faint smile. The face was the same as Rem’s, but the power radiating from her was on a completely different level.
“Hello?”
Gunther also spoke slowly.
“Yes, glad to meet you.”
This was the final stage of Gunther’s plan.
A conversation with the Hierarch.
A chance to draw out priceless information, and at the same time a choice burdened with colossal risk.
The current reality was fundamentally different from the game. The principle behind the brainwashing, its effectiveness, the mechanism of its operation—everything was unknown. Simply sharing the same space with the Hierarch, the “carrier” of that indoctrination, when even her essence was unclear, was already absurdly dangerous.
But Gunther instinctively felt that now was the moment to walk this dangerous path. Only this could avert an even greater threat. And fortunately, he had already fastened several layers of safety belts.
[You consume the “Flower of Silence”]
[After some time, you will die]
[You may regulate the time of death through mana control. Maximum 5 minutes]
Ignoring the foul taste sinking into his gums, Gunther asked calmly,
“You were inside the fortress? How?”
“I was there from the very beginning. You simply refused to see. Blinded by your desire for repose.”
Hearing that, Gunther became certain: Remesia of Repose was not the same being that had existed in the game.
“Far stronger, and with much more varied abilities.”
Whether fortunately or unfortunately, he was beginning to understand why that was.
“Oh, Gunther. Look at yourself.”
The voice imitating intimacy suddenly drew close. Gunther raised his head, measuring the movement.
“About this much... that’s enough.”
A small pale face framed by blue-black hair. And in the center—eyes that had lost their light. In those empty, glassy eyes, Gunther saw his own reflection.
“You’re covered in wounds.”
It was true. Even if the priests and paladins of Repose were weak, he had been fighting under endless debuffs and overwhelming numbers. The Hierarch’s fingers slid over his {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} battered body. Confusion appeared on her face.
“Isn’t it hard? Why do you live in such pain?”
“What?”
“The path to release from all suffering is right in front of you. You no longer need to fight, no longer need to endure pain. Just stop.”
Gunther exhaled slowly. A sense of déjà vu flashed through him, like his conversations with Rem. Then again, if she was its embodiment, the resemblance was only natural.
“I don’t want that.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s false repose.”
Gunther leaned back just slightly.
“There’s something I have to do. Only after I finish it can I find true repose. What changes if you strip away my thoughts and my right to choose by simply throwing away suffering?”
“......”
Whatever in his words had struck the Hierarch, the face that had just resembled Rem turned cold and still.
“Fool. Who told you to fight, who ordered you to carry this burden, who defined your suffering as inevitable?”
“...No one decides things like that from the outside.”
The Hierarch sighed and shook her head. The movement was very much like Rem’s.
“All right. I’ll just help you...”
“By the way, is this Dominic?”
In an instant, the air seemed to freeze.
A silence fell so complete it was as though all sound had vanished. It felt like one could even hear the sound of the Hierarch’s eyelids opening and closing.
From that reaction alone, Gunther knew he had hit the mark. The reason the brainwashing had become abnormally strong. Most likely because they had long ago consumed the hero of the age—Dominic—offering his spirit as a sacrifice to Remesia. The price for defiling the Savior chosen to stand against the Seven Evil Gods. Naturally, it had to be immense.
“Yes. In <Forgotten God>, everything has cause and effect.”
Dominic had become the enemy. He had confirmed the single most important fact...the one he needed to realize above all else.
“You... know an astonishing amount. Who the hell are you?”
The Hierarch’s eyes moved side to side like a pendulum. Confusion and caution mixed in that motion. She spoke rapidly, without stopping.
“Hmm... there should be a record of someone like you somewhere in the Tablets... the ones in the royal capital... I wonder if it’s there...? ...No, impossible... and yet... I’ll have to ask.”
Gunther absorbed every word she said... every scrap of priceless information, engraving it into his memory. At the same time, he predicted her next action.
...It’s coming.
“For now, come with me. We’ll have to take you apart together with Masiu. Masiu will like that. He’ll praise me.”
With those words, she reached out her hand. The motion seemed slow, but the speed was such that dodging was impossible. Beneath his feet, in the sky, across his entire field of vision, it felt as though thousands—tens of thousands—of hands were reaching for him. The Hierarch’s lips twisted strangely.
“Ha, what is this? What’s wrong with your mental barrier?”
“...What, not everything is going the way you want?”
Most likely it was because he was loaded down with every possible resistance to holiness and mental interference. In particular, the mythic trait “Godslayer” was showing its full brilliance now.
“And the stacks have piled up quite a bit too.”
But Gunther understood perfectly well: he would not endure to the end.
At the same time as he resisted furiously, Gunther released the mana that had been suppressing the toxicity of the Flower of Silence. In a few seconds, the poison would corrode his body, and he would be able to kill himself.
“No! That won’t do!”
Uuuuun—
Suddenly, painfully familiar energy entered Gunther’s body. It was Parco’s healing ability.
“Kha-a-ak!”
Parco’s healing literally tore the poison out of Gunther’s body. At that same moment, one of the nearby priests of Repose collapsed, blood pouring from all seven orifices. Gunther let out a strained laugh.
“...Unbelievable.”
It seemed this insane Hierarch could partially copy the abilities of those whose minds she had subjugated. New... and very bad information.
“I wonder... how much Karma killing the Hierarch would give?”
But Gunther was not the only one surprised. The Hierarch of Repose stared at him with wide eyes.
“Are you even human? How are you enduring this?”
At that moment, the veil of indoctrination pressing down over the estate began to peel away layer by layer.
“...Ah?”
“...M-mm?”
“...What was I...”
The groans of the people regaining consciousness did not even reach Gunther’s ears. ...An incredible pressure crashed down on his mind. The Hierarch of Repose whispered softly:
“I think thanks to you, I’ll be able to do very much.”
Gunther understood instantly: he could not hold out any longer. But that was fine. ...Because the next safeguard remained.
“Blanc!”
He detonated the mana making up the “Serpent’s Nest” he had sent to Blanc, using it as a signal. He had told her in advance: the moment he gave the signal, she had to launch the most powerful wind blade she could at the Hierarch. Of course, he had never once assumed that attack would affect the Hierarch.
“But... it’ll pierce my skin just fine.”
That blade was meant for him. He had already calculated the Hierarch’s speed. Unlike her absurd “spirit,” her physical stats were not actually that exceptional. More importantly, right now she was pouring all her power into breaking him, and her concentration was scattered.
Gunther was certain.
If he activated Eyes of the Tyrant and used maximum instantaneous acceleration enhanced by doping... he could throw himself into Blanc’s attack and die.
And then—reset.
The information gained in this life was enormous. An immense amount of knowledge that would have been impossible to obtain under normal circumstances had piled up in a very short time.
The next life would definitely be different from this one. And even if in the next life he failed to crush the Hierarch, it did not matter. He was certain he could achieve even greater results.
The chance of victory was visible now. Without the slightest hesitation, Gunther lunged forward and shouted:
“...Now!”
