Chapter 241: For Whom the Bell Tolls

People are often deceived by the Giant Bull Demon’s brutish appearance, enormous size, and savage, lesser kin, assuming them all to be simple brutes of astonishing strength.

This isn’t an entirely unfair assessment, as these kin of Bafumie do indeed possess unparalleled monstrous strength. But complementing that power is an equally exceptional intellect!

For the Horned Demon King, Bafumie, is himself a terrifying Hunter who embodies both ferocious savagery and cunning ruthlessness!

Brogmir had undoubtedly inherited his master’s spirit. When he appeared, smashing through the labyrinth with brute force, no one suspected that he was also a powerful Priest!

Flames laced with Abyssal Profane Energy crashed down from above the Dark Territory without warning, striking Ron squarely on the crown of his head. The horrifying fire consumed him in an instant!

"Ron!" "Benefactor!" "Lord!"

No one could have detected a deliberate sneak attack from such a powerful demon. By the time they reacted, all that remained where Ron had stood was a charred corpse.

"AHHHHHHH!"

Tears of blood streamed from Sera’s eyes. As her grief and rage surged, her attacks rose to a completely new level. A two-toned radiance of cyan and red erupted from the Grip of the Vast Wave, and amidst her tsunami-like onslaught, Brogmir no longer had any opportunity to free his hands.

The demon was utterly shocked. He couldn’t believe that this mortal, whom he had been handling with ease just moments ago, now required his full concentration to fight. ’How could she have gotten this strong?!’

"Ron!" Aive was on the verge of frenzy, throwing herself onto Ron’s charred corpse and crying out. It wasn’t that she had never experienced the parting of life and death; as a Half-Elf Warrior and an Adventurer, comrades falling in battle was practically a common occurrence. She herself was prepared to die in the wilderness at any moment for any number of reasons.

But... but! Ron was different. He was absolutely different! How could he just die like that?! And so suddenly, without any warning! All because of a single spell from that demon?!

"Aive, you..." Silvia knelt down, trying to comfort the Half-Elf. But the moment the Mage’s hand touched Aive, it was immediately flung aside.

"Silvia!" Aive looked up, her tear-streaked face glaring at the Vampire Descendant. "You cold-blooded creature! Did Ron ever do you wrong?! You won’t even shed a single tear for him?!"

"No, the benefactor saved my life, but..." Silvia was pushed to the ground by Aive, but she didn’t get angry. She simply hesitated before pointing toward Sera, who was still locked in a fierce battle with Brogmir.

"Aive, you have to understand, when a Caster dies, or even just takes a fatal blow, most of their Magic is instantly broken. But look at Sera..."

"The one who cast Giant Transformation Magic on her wasn’t me!"

"My Deities didn’t grant me that kind of Magic," Victoria said, wiping the blood trickling from the corner of her mouth as Aive and Silvia looked over. Due to the effects of the Chain of Guardianship, some of the damage Sera took was reflected back onto her.

"Then..." Aive stared at the corpse in her arms, stunned. "Ron... he’s not dead?"

"He should be dead," Victoria shrugged. "Resurrection Magic can be used on him, but I’d suggest we wait a bit. A minute?"

Ron, at this moment, had no idea his companions had decided to let him "stay dead for a little while." After that instant of intense heat, his vision went black. When he regained consciousness, he felt as if he were sinking endlessly, like a drowning man.

’Is this... what it’s like after you die in this world?’

Ron tried to open his mouth, but no sound came out. He tried to swim, but he couldn’t control his body. Just as he was finally getting a sense of his surroundings, the scene shifted in an instant, and he lost all sensation once more.

In this place, Ron couldn’t perceive the passage of time or changes in space. He only knew that the scenes around him changed again and again, and the torment of his body and mind never ceased. It was as if he was experiencing every possible cause of death in the most extreme way!

"I think I finally understand why people who have died once never want to die again." At some point, Ron realized he could speak again. He was now standing on a gray wasteland, and not far away, a pair of eerie green eyes were watching him, this unexpected guest.

"Am I going to be mauled to death by a wolf this time?" Ron slowly got to his feet with a resigned sigh. "Victoria, oh Victoria, you’d better pull me back soon..."

’Resurrection Magic does have a one-minute time limit.’

Ron proactively walked toward the gray wolf. ’After this one’s over, there’ll just be another. What’s one more or less?’ he thought. The fact that he could move freely now, however, was a little strange.

’Can I cast magic now?’

Ron raised his hand and tried to cast Light Magic to illuminate the surrounding gray plains, but he failed. At that moment, the gray wolf began to move, only...

It was standing up on its hind legs, and holding a pair of sickles?

"This is the ’Death Realm,’ the transit station for all the souls of the dead in Surrez," the strange wolf began to speak, using the Common Language. "Here, you will experience every way to die and meet every possible Death God until your soul finds its rightful place."

As it spoke, the wolf’s form changed countless times. Ron saw not only the traditional appearance of a cloaked figure holding a giant scythe, but also some figures in wide robes with long, flowing sleeves!

’This... how is this possible?’

"It seems you’ve been exposed to quite a few cultures," the being said, its form finally settling into that of a half-man, half-sheep. "This one looks like a Sheepman from the Fairy Wilderness? Interesting. But who would think they could serve as a ’Death God’?"

"Who are you?" Ron retreated two steps in shock. This being seemed to be merely imitating all the images of Death Gods from his memory, but he himself knew their origins crystal clear!

"The manager of the ’Death Realm.’ Is that introduction sufficient?" The Half-Sheepman approached Ron, giving him no chance to dodge. "Theoretically, I should be neutral, treating every soul impartially. But in reality, that’s not so easy to achieve, don’t you think?"

"’No man is an island entire of itself,’" Ron replied after a moment of thought. "Unless you’re some kind of machine, I’m afraid it would be very difficult to achieve absolute neutrality."

"Precisely. Not to mention the other Deities are always trying to influence me," the being agreed with a nod. "It seems we have a lot to talk about. Then answer me this: since no man is entire of himself, how can a being like me maintain balance?"

"It’s simple. You don’t need absolute balance, just dynamic balance."

"Dynamic. That makes sense," the Half-Sheepman nodded. It suddenly rose onto its hooves, reached out a hairy, human-like finger, and tapped Ron’s chest. "In that case, you too should become a part of this ’dynamic balance,’ should you not?"

Suddenly, a gate overflowing with light opened behind Ron. Countless arms reached out from beyond the gate, grabbing his sleeves and arms, pulling him back, trying to drag him through.

"Do not struggle, child," the Half-Sheepman said, its face unreadable as it watched Ron’s gradual departure. "Your companions are calling you home."

Ron subconsciously looked down at his chest, only to find what looked like a gray fingerprint on his skin. "Pay it no mind. It’s just a few souls that you will collect for me."

The Half-Sheepman waved lightly to Ron, watching as he disappeared behind the gate of light, and muttered to itself, "Therefore, ask not for whom the bell tolls; it now needs ’to be tolled by you, for me’."