Ever since Gunther had entered the world of <Forgotten God>, the three gods had stayed by his side the longest. Three beings who gave him survival advice and supported this outsider, thrown into a new world without a shred of power.
Even at the moment when he killed a person for the first time and could not let go of his sword until dawn, because the sensation of чужой крови on his palms would not fade. And on that evening when he spent the few coins he earned on food, only to end up retching in a filthy alley. And when the mercenary squad he had finally grown used to and attached to was completely wiped out in a sudden bandit attack, and he, fleeing alone through the mountains, collapsed on a slope and seriously considered giving it all up.
They had always been there. Sometimes as friends, sometimes as mentors... like family.
Gunther had never even hoped he would one day meet them face to face and speak with them. Especially not at a moment like this.
He had thought that when they met, he would have so much to say. But the words caught in his throat, tangled into a tight knot. Gunther sat silently on the ground, simply looking up at them.
“Hey, what are you doing sitting on the ground? It’s cold.”
The Drug-Addicted Saint rushed to him first. Her light-green hair was disheveled from haste, and her golden eyes were wide like a startled fawn’s. She grabbed Gunther’s hand, helping him up, and leaned closer. A fresh herbal scent drifted from her. He was smelling it for the first time, yet it felt painfully familiar. Meeting his gaze, El spoke:
“I... I had so much I wanted to say when we met. I mean, you’ve been through so much, and I can’t put everything in one sentence, but I’ve been cheering for you so much, and during the twenty-seventh iteration it hurt so much to watch you that I could barely hold it together, but I still think you did everything you could, and...”
The stream of words cut off as she ran out of breath.
Pff-hahaha!
Alphonse of Red Street, standing nearby, burst out laughing. The Saint fell silent, blushing, her lips moving soundlessly.
“...What?!”
“You were supposed to say it like we practiced. What was that? He didn’t even understand half of it.”
“I... I wanted to say it properly too!..”
At that moment, the King of Ninety-Nine Defeats, who had been silent until now, spoke. The voice from beneath his helmet was very low and deep.
“Understand her.”
His head tilted slightly, like someone smiling.
“Her social skills weren’t great even when she was alive. But I think she conveyed her joy at seeing you well enough.”
Gunther realized he was smiling back without meaning to. The smiles of the three gods surrounding him grew warmer. After a moment, Gunther spoke for the first time:
“How is this possible?”
Alphonse answered:
“Well... it’s not like we’ve been eating your hard-earned Karma for nothing. Bit by bit, we picked up a few tricks. Just know we had to work pretty damn hard to break in here, so you should be grateful—”
Feeling the King of Ninety-Nine Defeats’ gaze on him, Alphonse immediately fell silent. Pretending nothing had happened, he changed the subject and clapped the frozen Saint on the shoulder.
“Anyway, El. You ready?”
The Saint nodded resolutely. She turned around at once and began rustling something in her hands. A few sparks flashed, and—
“Gu... Gunther... do you want to try this?”
She held something out to him. Gunther narrowed his eyes at the “mushroom” in her hand.
“This is definitely not an ordinary mushroom.”
Its surface emitted a soft but vivid glow, pulsing in a steady rhythm like a heartbeat. Wasn’t it true that the brighter a mushroom, the stronger its poison? Gunther asked cautiously:
“What... is this?”
But the three gods only exchanged mysterious glances, clearly not intending to explain anything. Gunther let out a faint internal laugh.
“It doesn’t matter... they would never harm me.”
After a brief hesitation, he took a bite. The taste was surprisingly ordinary. Only a strange, indescribable foreign sensation lingered on his tongue — neither bitter nor sweet. At that same moment, the three gods also took out mushrooms and calmly ate them. Alphonse winked playfully.
“Alright then. See you in a second.”
And at that very instant, the faces of the three gods distorted like crumpled paper.
[You have consumed the item “Mycelium of Convergence” — Legendary-grade consumable]
[You are being transferred to the “Shared Hallucination” of the creator]
...Shared hallucination? There was no time to dwell on the unfamiliar term.
Whoooosh—
Everything spun into a vortex, the outlines of objects blurring and overlapping. The light filling the space began to recede.
“Am I leaving the regression space?”
The dizziness did not last long. The blinding light that had swallowed his vision vanished like dissipating mist, and—
“Oh.”
The scenery changed completely. Staggering, Gunther took a step forward, feeling something pierce through his senses — something that absolutely should not exist here.
“This place...”
.
.
.
Gunther felt stone beneath his feet. Well-crafted, but not smooth, worn by countless footsteps over time.
The sky was clear. A night filled with an extraordinary number of stars. The air was clean, the view unobstructed, and the stars felt so close it was as if they might fall at any moment, drawing nearer and then drifting away again.
“This place...”
The answer came from behind. Alphonse casually placed a hand on Gunther’s shoulder, flashing a charming grin.
“This place is called the Star Tower. Ever heard of it?”
The King of Ninety-Nine Defeats, appearing beside them, shook his head.
“How would he? This place burned down and disappeared long ago.”
The Saint, looking at the bewildered Gunther, added quietly:
“We used to come here often when we were still human. When things got too hard, we’d lie here, catch our breath... and then go back to the front.”
Gunther could read the deep, hidden attachment they had to this place in their eyes.
“Star Tower...”
A stone observation tower built on a low hill. Beside it stood a small shelter, with traces of habitation, and a gently sloping terrace leading toward the sea.
In the dense darkness, the outline of the sea was clearly visible. Waves crashed against the base of the cliff, and starlight scattered across the water like a path. Along the shore stretched a small bay and a coastal village.
Low rooftops, boats tied in the harbor, swaying slowly with the gentle waves. A few houses still had lights on, and shadows of people moved behind the windows. Someone was repairing nets and oars — the slow movements of people finishing their day.
They were probably not real people. More likely a landscape preserved in the Saint’s memory.
And yet, the sound of wood knocking together, the creak of tightening and loosening ropes, and the salty scent carried on the wind felt so vivid that for a moment Gunther forgot the burden he carried. The three gods were also watching the scene. No one spoke, but a strange sense of release was written on their faces. As if they had finally reached a long-awaited break.
Of course, the calm did not last long. The King of Ninety-Nine Defeats suddenly shook his head and spoke in a formal tone:
“We didn’t come here to slack off. Get to work.”
With that, the atmosphere shifted. The gods began to act in a very familiar way.
Alphonse somehow produced a fishing rod and, without hesitation, jumped off the cliff. A moment later, the sound of waves mixed with his laughter rose from below:
“El, look at this! It even simulates the resistance of the fish!!! Incredible.”
The Saint, smiling proudly, walked to the shelter, hung a pot, and began laying out herbs one by one.
“Hehe, I’ll make something delicious.”
The King of Ninety-Nine Defeats silently gathered firewood. Taking out a flint, he struck it a few times.
Click.
The flame caught the kindling, and soon the fire began to breathe, burning brighter. Under the starlight, in the cool sea breeze, a small flame flickered.
Gunther watched the scene, captivated, when Dietrich looked at him, smirked, and removed his helmet.
Clang.
Beneath it was a face with sun-scorched skin and brown hair. His eyes were deep and steady. His features were not strikingly handsome, but they carried a kind of dignity that only belonged to someone who had silently borne countless decisions and responsibilities.
“What’s an adventure without a campfire?” Dietrich said calmly. “It’s time for some romance.”
The firelight danced across his face, illuminated by a gentle smile. Only now did Gunther understand why they called this place their refuge.
“Maybe I can hel—”
Before he could finish, a heavy hand rested on his shoulder.
“You’ve been through enough. Just rest today.”
At that moment, Alphonse appeared, triumphantly raising a massive fish.
“Ta-da!”
The # Nоvеlight # fish, half the size of his torso, was already perfectly cleaned, only the head remaining. His knife work was so precise that not a single piece of flesh was damaged. Thick slices of fatty meat gleamed in the firelight. In his other hand, he held a bottle that had come from nowhere. There was no label, only a crooked inscription: “El’s Tincture.”
“Heh, if the Ruler of the Oceans finds out we’re feasting like this on our own, she’s gonna lose it.”
Before he finished, the Saint came over, puffing, with the pot and added:
“Hehe, it’s fine, let Dietrich take the blame for everyone. He’s used to it.”
“...Used to it. I’m quite the expert at that.”
Fish steaks and stew were set out. Oil sizzled, the aroma of herbs and spices rose into the air. A cup of tincture passed from hand to hand.
“To us!”
“Khah...”
“Mmm...”
“How did we even live without this all this time?”
“Thanks to Gunther, we get to enjoy this. Guess it was worth hanging on a little longer.”
The strong alcohol burned his throat. Perhaps because of the nature of this space, intoxication was not neutralized by magic and hit immediately. In a light haze, Gunther watched the three gods laughing and chatting. The conversation drifted to trivial things.
“So, is this better than that wine you drank after Rahenia dumped you?”
“...I dumped her.”
“Yeah, sure. Bet that wine tasted salty from your tears.”
Swish!
“Looks like we’ve got a new appetizer.”
“Whoa, whoa!”
They teased the King of Ninety-Nine Defeats about his relationship with the Ruler of the Oceans.
“So, what do you think of our true forms? Handsome, right?”
“I... I want to hear your opinion too...”
“Ahem.”
They playfully poked Gunther, demanding his impression.
“So who do you think helped you the most on your journey?”
Dietrich asked with a burning gaze, but then laughed without waiting for an answer.
Not a word about the twenty-seventh iteration. Not a word about the mission Gunther carried. Not even the usual encouragement that he would succeed.
There was only the night sea and starlight, good food and conversation suited for drinking. Small joys that could be enjoyed for a lifetime and would never grow tiresome.
And because of that, deep inside Gunther, a thought that had long been tied into a tight knot suddenly came undone.
“You...”
Gunther tried to find the words, then gave up. He realized that no matter how he wrapped them, his true feelings would seep through. That weakness he had hidden for so long, even from himself, despite everything he once proudly claimed.
“...Have you ever wanted to just give up?”
Silence fell around the campfire, as if even the flames held their breath.
The gazes of the three gods, who had been laughing moments ago, naturally turned to Gunther. No one was surprised, no one looked away. As if they had been waiting for this question for a very long time.
“Yeah.”
“More than once.”
“...For me, it was every day.”
Soft smiles appeared on the faces of the three gods — the kind given to a junior walking the same path. And the King of Ninety-Nine Defeats slowly spoke:
“There’s something I absolutely need to tell you, Gunther.”
