— Holy Capital of the Theocracy, Agnor.
At first glance, a familiar peace reigned here. Pilgrims walking along marble pavements, priests chanting psalms, and worshippers in prayer. A faint aroma of incense drifted above the square. But beneath that tranquility simmered an ominous premonition that could not be ignored.
The Papal Throne’s council chamber had become the epicenter of that unease. Beneath the high ceiling, banners bearing the emblems of the Seven Cults swayed slowly, despite the absence of any draft. An emergency convocation. With the exception of the Pope, who had long since stopped appearing, and the Archbishop of Justice, sent on a “secret mission,” all five hierarchs were present.
— Archbishop Masiu... how are we to understand this?
The first to speak was Ardell, Archbishop of the Cult of Trust. He oversaw affairs in Badland, the Desert Empire... and was one of the few not burdened with blame for the recent “sabotage in Zeros.”
— .......
Masiu remained silent. In the past, it would have been unthinkable for anyone to address him in such an accusatory tone. Masiu was the de facto center of power in the Theocracy, an elder of unquestionable authority, second only to the Pope. A man above all, yet beneath one.
But now Masiu’s position had visibly faltered. The operation Luthien had prepared for years had collapsed under his command. The only consolation was that the incident had not been the failure of the Cult of Repose alone. The Archbishop of the Cult of Healing, who had failed to spread the “decisive” epidemic, also kept silent. And only one person in the hall looked almost pleased.
— I told you, these wretches are not to be underestimated, — spoke the Archbishop of the Cult of Abundance, Silen Preva, who had previously been thoroughly beaten down by Gunther and “Night Raven.”
— Truly cunning and dreadful heretics. They calculate our moves one after another, as if reading the future. By the time you come to your senses, the board has already been rewritten, and every step leads into a trap.
If Maruna were here, he would have been nodding more vigorously than anyone. In the past, he had lost an entire Border City while insisting on their danger, but the reaction of the other archbishops had been ambiguous. Outwardly, they agreed, but inwardly dismissed it as the excuses of a failure.
But now everything was different. “Night Raven” could no longer be written off as “borderline noise.” No—this was no longer incompetence. The enemy was simply too strong.
— .......
Yet Silen’s satisfaction quickly gave way to a strange sense of defeat, and he lowered his gaze with a sigh. In any case, in the five pairs of eyes gathered in the hall, something shared had begun to take root for the first time.
Wariness. Recognition. And fear.
For a long time, Luthien had pursued only one goal — the Descent of the Seven Evil Gods. That the great Outer Deities would step into this world, end the false World of Shadows, and lead the chosen into the realm of true light. For that, they had taken root and fought for centuries, enduring persecution from the Union of Kingdoms.
But the Descent demanded an immense price. Only continuous faith and sacrifice could pave the path for the gods. Thus, expansion of influence and the collection of tribute were not indulgences, but necessities. Stop for even a moment, and the fruits of centuries of preparation would turn to dust. And it was this generation that was meant to taste those fruits.
— There was only one step left...
However, five years ago, beginning with the incident at Audrey House, the grand plan began to falter, and since the Border City, the crack had widened into something catastrophic. And at the center of it all stood one man.
— Hunter at the Waning Moon... that’s what they call him, isn’t it? — muttered the previously silent Archbishop of the Cult of Protection, Molta Brach, in a low voice. He had just returned from Pendrox, where he had spent the entire night conducting experiments on Dominic, and undisguised irritation seeped through his tone.
Silen Preva hurriedly nodded and laid documents on the table — records of Gunther’s feats, along with his portrait.
— His real name is Gunther Sirhe.
The gazes of the archbishops converged on a single point. Whatever Silen’s failures, he had ruled the Border City for a long time and had been obsessed with gathering information, even artificially cultivating Arcane Runners. No matter how carefully “Night Raven” guarded its secrets, uncovering the background of a man who had shaken the entire continent in such a short time was achievable.
— The one who appears on every path to the Descent and methodically crushes our sprouts. The heretic who destroys our altars wherever our Harvest is gathered! Does it not seem to you that this very corrupt world is resisting us through him?
— .......
— There are too many coincidences for this to be chance. The gods have already expressed their displeasure. We do not have the right to simply watch.
Of course, there was a desire in Silen’s words to exaggerate the threat to justify his own failures. But the truth within them was undeniable. Thanks to him, the name Gunther had now been firmly etched into everyone’s mind.
— I heard he has headed toward Nereus.
— Don’t tell me he has already caught wind of what is being prepared there?
— Oh gods... again?..
Quiet sighs spread across the hall. Naturally, the conversation shifted entirely toward Gunther.
— By the way, I heard that in Zeros, the Apostle of Justice had a chance to finish him. Why did she suddenly leave the battlefield? I intended to ask the Archbishop of Justice, but since that operation also failed...
At that moment, a strange sound came from beyond the door. Heavy, confident footsteps, accompanied by someone’s strained groan.
Bam!
The door burst open. Even before the silhouette became clear, the archbishops already knew who it was. Few in the capital would dare to enter this chamber so brazenly.
— Do you intend to place all the blame on us? — a low, cold voice rang out. — We retreated only because the circumstances demanded it. Since when does the Cult of Justice flee out of fear? Those who sit endlessly in the Holy Capital find it easy to speak of battles.
A woman stood in the doorway, a red ribbon covering her eyes. A symbol of a vow — to cast aside personal judgment and emotion in order to enact higher “Divine Punishment.” In her left hand she held a hammer, identical to the one wielded by Revmael.
Uuuuun—
Dark-red divine power continuously flowed across its metallic surface. Archbishop of Justice, Bellesa Lucan. The only hierarch who was constantly in motion. Officially, it had been reported she was conducting a secret operation in Nereus — but she was here for another reason.
— Archbishop Bellesa... and who is that?
In her other hand, a man hung limply.
— Kh-h-h... spare me, my lords... I am guilty... I beg you...
Pathetic cries clashed grotesquely with the grandeur of the hall. Judging by his clothes and speech — an ordinary peasant, one among thousands. Bellesa casually threw him onto the floor.
— A-a-aah!
As his body struck the stone, he howled in unbearable pain. His bones had already been crushed by torture, and even the slightest movement tore through his nerves. Behind her blindfold, Bellesa’s eyes seemed to narrow.
— Gunther Sirhe. This is someone from his hometown, who watched over him since childhood. He possesses rather interesting information, so I brought him for all of you to hear.
The archbishops’ attention instantly locked onto the victim.
— Oh? Is that so?
— Hm... let’s see what kind of soil this heretic grew from.
— A countryman? I trust you have already secured that village, Bellesa?
As the long shadows of the hierarchs fell over him, the man trembled like a leaf.
— You mustn’t, Gunther! Better... better go to the hosts instead!
He was the very same man who, four years ago, had tearfully tried to dissuade Gunther from becoming a mercenary. How had that simple, kind youth become someone whose name the great archbishops now spoke? There had to be some mistake.
— M-my lords... G-Gunther, he...
Bellesa roughly grabbed his hair, cutting off the incoherent babble.
— Go on, — her voice was eerily calm. — Speak, insect. Gunther Sirhe. Whose blood flows in his veins?
***
[※ Due to results exceeding expectations, reward adjustment is in progress. Calculation may be delayed]
Several days had passed, but the message in the status window had not changed. Gunther stared at it for a long time before letting out a short breath.
“I’d prefer to receive the reward before arriving in Nereus.”
In truth, there was no urgent need to grow stronger right now. The peak crises had passed, and his power had increased significantly. The battle in Valloren had elevated “Night Raven” to a new level. Parco, who had reaped enormous gains thanks to the Holy Sword and Karma, and the rest of his comrades had gained sufficient combat experience and relics. On top of that, they were being escorted by Valloren’s elite knights to guard Parco.
“Right now, we could crush almost any faction.”
And yet...
— Hm, when are they arriving? And why is there no contact since morning? It’s not like they’re flying on a “Black Cloud.”
— Mana is always unstable around Nereus. I think they’ll join us by sunset.
— Either way, an operation with the deputy commander... isn’t this a first? I can’t wait!
They were currently at the border between Nereus and Valloren, at the rendezvous point with the support group. Once they joined forces, the unit’s strength would increase even further. Grand Crow had said he gathered only the best. Gunther didn’t know the full roster, but the presence of Moon Wolf and Dimona alone spoke volumes. Frankly, even if the Apostle of Justice appeared again, they could overwhelm her through sheer force.
And yet, a sense of unease would not leave him. And the cause of it was this:
[Consumed Karma: -3881]
※ Karma has fallen below –3000. Branch “Judgment Pursuit” activated.
[Based on your Karma trajectory, the most rational and inevitable Judge is being calculated]
“Judge.” The word alone sent a chill down his spine. It sounded like a debt collector. Only instead of money, it would come to collect Karma. Gunther couldn’t even imagine how horrifying that would be. His childhood PTSD, tied to family debt, stirred within him.
“Maybe I should just kill myself now?”
He seriously considered suicide. Despite the monstrous 12% compound interest, there was still hope that the Karma from saving Zeros might somehow offset the debt. But Gunther’s natural gambler’s instinct took over.
A Karma collector? Terrifying, sure. But also an opportunity. If this Judge was directly tied to the structure of Karma and Regression... then it might possess the very information Gunther had been desperately seeking.
And so he endured several days waiting for catastrophe, until the moment of rendezvous with the reinforcements finally arrived.
— Oh? Looks like they’re coming...
— Cheonmae, with the sharpest eyesight, spoke first in excitement — then abruptly fell silent.
She narrowed her eyes. A column of dust rose over the horizon, far too large for a simple march. Gunther felt it too. This wasn’t just movement. Levain, hurriedly pulling out his magical glasses, muttered:
— Hm, am I seeing things?
Thud-thud-thud-thud—
The ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ ground trembled. The noise grew louder. The leaders came into view first. A familiar wolf mask — Moon Wolf. Beside him, Dimona, her expression blank, but sweat pouring down her face. There was also the mysterious bandaged woman Gunther had seen in the Sanctuary.
...And one completely unexpected face. Fluffy raccoon ears and tail whipping wildly from side to side. All of them had one thing in common — they were running as if their lives depended on it. And the problem was, they clearly weren’t running out of excitement.
— ------!!! — without even looking back, they sprinted at full speed.
Rumble—rumble—rumble—
Behind them, like a tsunami, surged a wave of mechanical creatures made of steel and gears.
— No, no, no! What is that?!
— What the hell is going on...
— Oh... now that’s a sight.
— Your Highness, protect His Highness!
Watching the stunned Barkel twins and the knights on the verge of fainting at the sight of enemies they had never seen before... Gunther let out a heavy sigh.
— Can we stop switching genres already...
