In truth... from a compatibility standpoint, this was an extremely unfavorable fight.
— You won’t even be able to touch the tip of my hair!
The paladin, who had just knocked aside Gunther’s full-force sword swing with his bare hand, roared at the top of his lungs.
Clang!
The blade slid off, throwing sparks.
Gunther’s heavy gaze fixed on the paladin’s skin, which had turned ashen gray. Skin that could neither be cut nor burned... his entire body had become as hard as iron.
‘As expected of the Cult of Abundance.’
Mana: 7. For Gunther, who could not use Aura, an opponent from the Cult of Abundance specializing in defense was far too inconvenient. Noticing his gaze, the paladin smirked.
— That’s the difference between those blessed by a god and those abandoned by one.
— Hm. Looks like your god forgot to bless your buddy. He was soft as ham.
— ...Shameless trash.
A blue-black glow boiled once more along the paladin’s sword.
Whoosh!
But the blade was not aimed at Gunther. The paladin suddenly stabbed it into the wall.
Crack!
To Gunther’s surprise, the stone wall began corroding and melting instantly.
Clang-clang-clang!
The energy of decay flowed directly into the paladin’s body.
His skin deepened to an even thicker gray. His body’s durability doubled.
Authority of Devouring. A power that strengthened flesh by absorbing the properties of what was consumed. It was the authority Jean Daet had granted to members of the Cult of Abundance.
— Come on, resist it! — the paladin charged. — The blessing of Jean Daet!
Boom!
Gunther narrowly dodged. The fist missed by a hair. The paladin’s straight punch blasted a massive hole in the wall. Yet as if he felt no pain, he continued his assault with a wild roar.
A sword in one hand, a spiked iron gauntlet on the other. As if his entire body were a weapon, he pressed forward, alternating between blade and fist.
Boom!
One clean hit meant death. Gunther widened his eyes and focused solely on evasion. A fist heavy as a sledgehammer grazed past his head.
Boom!
[The Drug-Addicted Saint and Alphonse of Red Street grab each other and scream!]
If not for Alphonse’s Stigma raising his Agility by 7. If not for the Saint’s doping effect maximizing his stats. He would have long since become a smear of flesh on the wall.
Clang-clang-clang!
Of course, Gunther counterattacked. But every strike bounced off, unable to pierce the enemy’s skin.
The paladin’s triumphant grin widened. Confidence solidified in his eyes.
‘This guy’s attacks can’t break my defense.’
His movements grew broader, bolder. Carefully measured combos gave way to arrogant single strikes meant to end it in one blow.
So Gunther deliberately fumbled and twisted. Desperate movements mimicking barely managed evasions.
But there was not a trace of anxiety in his pupils.
‘I anticipated this.’
The duel with the paladin had been planned in his previous life. If he hadn’t been certain of victory, he would never have leapt into this warehouse in the first place.
[The Drug-Addicted Saint informs you that the duration of “Overdose” is nearing its end!]
‘There’s a way.’
Of course, despite the unfavorable situation, he had no intention of spending Karma. He had something else reserved for that. What Gunther was aiming for was—
‘A battle gimmick.’
<Forgotten God> could be called a compilation of gimmicks. The developer wanted players to find solutions themselves rather than follow scripted answers. Combat was no exception. And among them was one famous gimmick that almost everyone had tried at least once:
The so-called Zero-Point Strike.
A seemingly simple mechanic where damage increased if you repeatedly struck the same point. Yet the number of players who truly succeeded was negligible. By monitor standards, the hit only registered if the strikes landed with near-pixel precision in exactly the same spot.
Naturally, high risk meant high reward. The difficulty was extreme, and the efficiency astonishing. 30%, 50%, 100%, 300%... and beyond. As hits accumulated, the damage grew geometrically.
Super-precise aiming. Frame-level input. An art requiring perfect concentration. To perform this gimmick in reality—against a violently moving opponent—was impossible.
...Unless you had “Tyrant’s Eyes.”
‘Now!’
Gunther, who had done nothing but retreat, suddenly delivered a heavy, crushing blow to the paladin’s neck. The force was enough to make the previously unrestrained paladin flinch. But—
Clang!
As expected, it ricocheted.
— Useless!
The paladin seized the opportunity and lunged. Like lightning, his sword fell toward Gunther’s wide-open flank.
— This is the end!
A strike thrown with his full body weight, as if determined to finish everything in one blow.
...This was the moment Gunther had been waiting for.
Crunch!
The tiny ampule hidden between his teeth shattered. Liquid ran over his tongue, and along with its acrid scent, struck straight into his brain.
[Consumed “Drug-Addicted Saint’s Special Emergency Ampule — Type X”!]
[All currently active medicinal effects temporarily amplified]
[Senses, reaction ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) speed, and overall combat capability increased]
[Severe bodily damage and incapacitation possible after expiration]
Even as his jaw spasmed violently, Gunther smiled.
[“Tyrant’s Eyes” Lv.1 activated]
Vooooom!
The sword hurtling toward him slowed and decomposed into components. Movements, patterns, rhythm. Everything imprinted into his mind in dissected form. Unfortunately, due to the enemy’s high defense, no red vulnerability line appeared. But it didn’t matter.
Whoosh!
Using the recoil from his rebounding blade, Gunther forced his body into a full rotation. The paladin’s decisive strike passed by mere millimeters.
— What?!
Of course, that was not the end.
Completing another half-turn around his axis, Gunther drove his sword into the back of the paladin’s head. Exactly the same spot as the first strike.
Clang!
It bounced again, unable to pierce the skin. But this time, something was different. The paladin staggered back slightly.
— You rat, where do you think you’re—
The pattern continued. Gunther dodged and countered. But something had changed.
Clang!
Recoil transformed into trajectory. The axis of rotation—Gunther himself. Linking the elasticity of knees and shoulders around the waist in a continuous chain—
Another rotation.
Clang!
The blade coiled precisely and struck the “zero point”—the nape. A high-difficulty motion made possible by Knight’s Swordsmanship.
‘...What is this?’
The paladin’s gaze began trembling, slowly but unmistakably. Just moments ago he had been dominating. This man’s attacks had barely tickled, and each of his own strikes had nearly knocked Gunther off his feet.
But now? A strange unease crawled through his body.
Clang!
Impossible to dodge. Impossible to block. The man even turned recoil into propulsion, rotating and shifting trajectory, striking the same point at incredible speed.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The paladin shrank back and raised his arms. Without realizing it, he had shifted from offense to defense. Yet the strikes always slipped in half a beat faster, landing in the exact same spot.
...The neck.
‘W-what is this?!’
Abnormal speed and precision rendering the very concepts of evasion and defense meaningless.
— You, you—
Three seconds. That was enough for spiderweb-like cracks to spread across the gray skin.
Crack!
It happened before the stunned paladin could even force out a plea.
Crrrrack!
The enemy’s defense collapsed, and red threads of vulnerability flooded Gunther’s vision.
— W-wait!
Why did these idiots always follow the same patterns? Gunther smirked.
— Get lost.
Slash!
The edge of Ladenbach cleanly parted flesh.
.
.
.
[Level Up! / Lv.43]
[Strength 34 → 35]
[Swordsmanship proficiency increased]
[“Knight’s Swordsmanship” Lv.3]
[Limit movements imprinted into the body]
[Agility +1]
[New skill unlocked — “Zero-Point Strike”]
[The King of Ninety-Nine Defeats praises your unique swordsmanship with satisfaction]
Gunther looked at the paladin’s severed head, then at the system messages, and collapsed to the ground.
— ......
By irony, he landed beside pieces of Regan’s corpse. The shoulder with the prosthetic. On the smooth surface of the surprisingly intact metal, the burning warehouse reflected.
[“Overdose” Lv.1 effect ended]
The efficiency of medicines plummets; side effects reach maximum. In addition—the backlash from a body tortured to its limits.
[Would you like to review the list of debuffs (11)?]
— No...
[The Drug-Addicted Saint frantically writes a recipe for a special detox juice]
Muscle pain and a crushing sense of powerlessness surged in—sensations he never wished to experience again. It was so severe that even as flames raged around him and he was on the verge of becoming roast meat, he could barely move a single limb. Moreover, because of the paladin’s rampage, part of the wall had collapsed, blocking the corridor entirely with debris.
A situation where he could easily lose another death count.
Yet Gunther remained calm.
Bzzzz—
Because the sound of approaching help rang clearly.
Baaam!
A massive metal arm smashed through the debris and forced its way inside. A guard golem carefully lifted Gunther from the floor. The lens embedded in the center of its head emitted an electronic “zz-ik,” adjusted focus, and stared at the scattered corpses and at Gunther.
Tap!
Gunther knocked on the golem’s head and pointed at the magi-engineered prosthetic on the floor.
— Take that too.
— ......
The golem picked up the prosthetic and began carrying Gunther toward the center of the now-safe warehouse.
Whir! Bam!
Outside, everything was as expected. Gang members lay everywhere, reduced to bloody pulp, and before them stood the now-deactivated guard golems.
Bzzzz—
The light in the golem’s lens that lowered Gunther flickered out as well. Silence fell instantly. Amid the crackling flames, a familiar voice cut in.
— He’s sprawled out again.
Gunther waved a hand. Ryan, a two-handed hammer slung over his shoulder, approached with a grin.
— At least I didn’t pass out this time.
— What an achievement.
— And the others?
Ryan answered while hoisting Gunther up:
— The only ones alive inside are us. All we need to do is leave.
— That’s a relief... And Dimona Ryen?
— Dimona Ryen?
Ryan tilted his head.
— Who’s Dimona Ryen... Ah, the one you asked me to pass the note to?
— Forget it. Never mind.
— Huh? What?
No answer was necessary. Gunther cast his gaze toward the end of the corridor. Beyond red flames and black smoke. A slender silhouette silently watched him. Golden eyes, slightly upturned like a cat’s, blinked slowly.
— ......
Once. Twice. And then she was gone, without a trace.
Gunther wasn’t surprised.
‘She’ll approach on her own soon.’
Saving all companion characters during the event did not mean they would immediately join the party. Usually, one had to gradually build affinity or fulfill specific conditions.
‘...For an Arcane Runner, the affinity requirements will be enormous.’
Due to the nature of the class, they had many enemies—and many who coveted their abilities. They were always forced to move cautiously.
‘Those who don’t trust easily and never belong to anyone.’
Persuasion and shared paths—conditions would have to be met one by one. Even if affinity from a previous life was inherited, the road ahead remained long.
‘Still worth it.’
Anticipating reunion with Dimona Ryen, Gunther moved toward the exit alongside Ryan. In truth... there was something he needed to think about first.
‘Ryan.’
Gunther’s gaze shifted to Ryan supporting him. The situation had changed completely compared to a few days ago.
‘An old grudge... that’s what he said.’
The moment to decide was approaching. Would he pretend not to notice, knowing his friend would jump into the fire on his own? Or... would he lead him forward and give him the chance to truly fight?
— By the way, these idiots were loaded.
— What?
Ryan lifted the pouches hanging from his belt. Gold coins clinked together.
— Split it fifty-fifty?
He looted the warehouse in that situation? Gunther couldn’t help but laugh at his practicality.
— You’re even asking? Since I planned this job, of course half is mine.
— Oho?! Listen to this shameless bastard.
Their shoulders brushed. Without further words, step by step, they exited the warehouse together. The tightly shut door slowly opened before them, like an automatic gate, as if it had been waiting only for them.
Act 1, Scene 2.
It was a perfect victory.
