Chương 6: [LD-1] 5. Meeting Death

V Meeting Death The giant didn't respond to my attempt of starting a conversation. Granted, it wasn't the best attempt ever, but it was the most anyone could expect when facing what was Death in the flesh.

"So, uhm," I coughed.

"I'm…going to climb down now." I was a lot more careful in where I placed my feet this time, even using some chains as a foothold. I dusted off my chest as I touched the ground.

'My god, how embarrassing.' There wasn't much for him to feel, so it should be fine. Glancing at the being to see if he would do anything revealed he was just staring at me. I embarrassingly rubbed my hands, then went to retrieve the scythe— My brow titled as I walked.

'Did it shrink?' I picked it up and found it was the perfect size for my frame. Moreover, words that hadn't been there before hovered over the weapon. [Cull the Deathblade - Grade: F | Kills: 0/10000]'It has a name?' That lend more credence to that earlier theory of mine…my ears twitched when the system continued speaking. Class Weapon recognised. Weapon will be stored in the neophyte's soul space. Before I could so much as blink at the message, the scythe vanished with a snap.

'Huh?' Stored in my soul space? Was there a weapon inside me now? Dumbfounded, I called up my status. Name: Joy Grimm Level 1 Nox [Reaper] Rank: Neophyte Magic Domain: Death (Special) Class Weapon: Cull the Deathblade (F - 0/10000) Death Core: Dormant Death Fragments: 0/1000 Mana: 80/100 Skills: N. A. STR: 4 DEX: 6 INT: 8 CON: 5 WIS: 10 Faith: 0 Free Points: 0"It really is there. How do I call it—" A horrid idea interrupted my thoughts and pinned me to the floor. I whirled around, hands in the air.

"Just to be clear, Sir…Lord…I didn't stick Cull in you! I know it looks like that because, you know, there's no else in this place besides you and me and the scythe…is no longer there…because I absorbed it…" I bit my lips, aware I was digging my grave deeper with each word. I cleared my throat.

"But I swear it wasn't me!" For good measure, I added an awkward smile at the end. The possibly Death god, possibly about to kill me giant, stared me down. Yeah, he's not buying that. Deciding it was best to find a way out of here immediately, I turned to scouring the chamber for any manner of exit.

"Hey, system," I crouched, cupped my mouth and whispered to the floor.

"Is it possible to leave this place? Like, very quickly?" Initiation Chamber cannot be exited until all steps are complete. I balled my fists. What else was I supposed to do?! A heavy thud echoed from behind me, and I went still as a hare clouded in the shadow of a hawk. My neck rotated like it was a gear not oiled in millennia. To my great relief, the giant was still in the same place. Instead, an altar had appeared in front of him.

Intricate runes beyond my comprehension covered the grand chalice, which was about as tall as myself. Hurried steps set on leaving carried me over. There was nothing inside. I glanced from the chalice to the god, and back to the chalice.

'Don't tell me I need to use my new weapon to bleed myself.' Or worse: bleed the god. Of all things I had done, that must be the one that'd get me killed. My heart sighed in relief when neither of my fears came true. Tendrils rose from the pool of blood the giant was sitting in. Spinning on themselves, the threads wove into a black crystal that hovered towards the chalice on an invisible current. It wedged itself into the centre of the basin that I only now noticed had a marking similar in shape.

The crystal melted into the space and merged with the structure. Offering to tutelary deity accepted. Computing rewards for offering… rewards computed! Faith stat increased! Please choose one of the following (Legendary) starter skills. The items appeared in a list in front of my face. Raise the Dead: Raises slain enemies to serve the Reaper in death. Entities raised in this manner retain only part of their personality and class skills. Raised undead can level and gain abilities. Capacity: 0/5.

Reaper's Condolence: The Reaper may call on entities from the Black Well to serve them. Starter entity: Observer—a well-spring of information on anything Death. Subsequent entities must be subjugated before use. Cursed Codex: Death and curses are intertwined. The codex arms the Reaper with a slew of curses, which range from inducing illnesses, life-drain, or mind decay to causing plagues. Curses require rituals to activate. Ritual complexity depends on the channelled curse. I took everything in.

'These were…' Some good skills? Albeit quite disturbing. Inducing 'illness' or 'mind decay', seriously? Why couldn't it be something simple like a shadow bolt? Then again, we wouldn't be speaking about a legendary skill at that point. My sight flicked to the god. Was he offering me these skills? It sounded crazy…but I wasn't going to ask to find out.

'The quicker I choose, the faster I can leave.' Looking at the list again, I immediately discarded the Codex. The last line mentioned curses required a ritual, which made sense. If the codex allowed me to simply wave my hand and start the magical equivalent of the bubonic plague, then it'd be one of the most broken things ever. Moreover, while I hadn't dabbled in curses in my previous life, I was sort of in the 'know' because of the nature of my business. Curses usually had an activation time.

For all I knew, draining something's life or killing it outright with a curse was the process of a few days… and that was discounting the gathering of whatever materials I required to complete the ritual. Stolen story; please report. That left raising the dead and the condolence skill. Raise the dead was undoubtedly the strongest immediate option of the three. Though I'd had a solo adventure in this chamber, I hadn't yet forgotten what was waiting on me outside. Killing and raising that (was it a goblin?) thing would increase the odds of surviving whatever else was waiting on me tenfold. Especially since they could level and gain skills. The condolence skill was less straightforward. This Black Well it spoke of was this world's realm of the dead. Raising a goblin was one thing, but there was no telling what was hiding in the realm only the deceased got to visit. An entity from that realm may possess the ability to curse others or raise the dead themselves. But that wasn't what was drawing me to the ability.

'An observer, huh?' The system said the being was a fountain of information on everything death… that should include my class. Spellcraft, as this world knew it, was a closely guarded secret within the magic community. Classes offered skills as you levelled, but not always the ones you wanted. Moreover, the most powerful abilities were discovered through strenuous training and experimenting. For an F-grade Neophyte in high school like myself, unlocking low-level abilities may be simple.

The future wasn't that bright. Google and Wikipedia didn't exist in this world. Unless I landed a scholarship at a university, found a mentor willing to train me, or lucked my way into the completion of a dungeon with magic rewards, my opportunity for learning abilities was sparse. Even if any of these things came true, there was no guarantee I'd learn powerful abilities. I'd only be able to get what was given. The 'observer' was a being from the depths of the Black Well, the source of everything death.

It alone may know a method for me to learn the other two offered skills, though that may be wishful thinking. However, while having a personal encyclopaedia sounded great, would the observer be able to kill the goblin for me? If its name was any indication, it was more of a passive-party than a combatant.

'I'm not alone outside, though.' The others should be going through their Initiation Chambers too. With all of us together, it should be possible to kill one measly goblin that didn't even reach my hips.

'I've also got a weapon.' One that I didn't know how to use, but hey, it was a weapon. And if I was being truly honest…I wasn't sure if I wanted to raise the dead. Some things were better left alone. Though I reserved the right to change my mind. Before making my choice, I turned to the giant.

"Say…would Reaper's Condolence be the right choice?" He didn't answer. Of course. He must be calling on everything within him to stop himself from striking me down.

"Reaper's Condolence is my choice," I said. Starter skill chosen. Status page adjusted. Knowledge poured into my mind of how to use my new ability. My hand rose to test it, but the system had other plans. Ending Initiation Chamber. The floor shook and tiles around me crumbled. Then the whole floor broke and I floated in the air. The chalice disappeared in a puff of smoke. I cast a final glance at the giant, who had still to utter a single word or grievance at the entire experience.

He was still looking at me but slowly closed his eyes as the makeshift realm crumbled, leaving him to kneel in the void. His chains didn't show any cracks or signs of breaking. Was he trapped in this… darkness? My lips pressed into a line.

'There it is again. He looks so… lonely.' How long had he spent here, chained and isolated, nothing but the empty void for company? And if my theory was right, why would he ever choose to inflict this fate on himself? My own experiences surfaced in my mind. While I'd said I wouldn't compare myself to a potential god… I couldn't help but imagine what it would've been like for him. Did other gods shun him like the world shunned me? Did they, too, curse his name and hate him for no reason other than existing?

These thoughts plagued me. So much that I waved and called out on a whim: "I'll be back, Sir! When I do, I'll find a way to undo those chains next!" His eyelids paused right before closing. And, though I may have imagined it, I swore his lips took on a slight curve. The world went black. Moonlight refracted through the tainted glass and painted the temple grounds. Because of the design, the light and shadows in the chamber worked together to shape three obelisks.

Each was covered in runes, and together, the obelisks recreated the Three Columns of Death. Yuria knelt in the centre of the towers. The runes etched into the surface of the shadows held more information than any one mortal could comprehend in their lifetime. With a pulse of her mana, they were sent to ripple and sway like the ocean.

"O' Lord of the Undying, Purveyor of the Damned and the Lost, please answer mine prayers…" The disciples of the Black Church repeated her mantra. They were cloaked head-to-toe, with veils covering their face. Their heads were down. Their hands linked as they added their power to this holy ceremony. Yuria could feel their thoughts ripple through the negative space. Though they didn't voice it, they all wondered at the use of this pointless endeavour.

How long had it been since their Lord answered any of their prayers? Those not close to Death may not notice, but their Church could feel it: the bleeding power. The spells whose might was once feared losing their efficiency and efficacy. The High Priests called for more prayer. The Sinner Extermination Corps called for the use of MageTech gear, for they could no longer complete their missions safely. Other voices still, their voices smaller yet heard, said what everyone feared: that they had been forsaken.

Or worse, that Lord Null had died. Yuria knew the truth. She regulated her breathing as the chants mixed with the humming of the runes. The power swirled around her and seeped into her skin. Her skull expanded, and her mind pulled out of her mortal shell into the vastness of the Black Well. As one of the Three Sisters leading the Black Church, Yuria had the special gift of casting her consciousness into the realm of the dead.

The mere possession of such a skill had earned her the acknowledgement of the entire Black Church, which she had eventually used to work herself up to the title of 'Sister.' Yet, despite the open recognition and praise of her abilities, most assumed her skill only allowed her to enter certain parts of the black realm. It was a misconception Yuria didn't care to correct. If the others of her faction knew she could see their Lord and hadn't shared what was going on, she would pay with more than her life.

But she wasn't concerned for her safety.

'Lord Null…I need you to get off your fucking ass.' Like, seriously. The god had spent nearly a century doing nothing but sit with that blade sticking out his chest. He wasn't even really imprisoned; he was choosing to remain in his sorry state. Her mental projection grimaced as she hurled through the dark waters of the realm, making sure to avoid the strong presences she sensed all around her.

'I'll kill you myself before I allow you to commit suicide.' She'd gotten through depression without any help, and now you meant to tell her their whole faction was suffering because some god was throwing a fit? Fuck no! Despite her uncontrollable urge to slap some sense into him, Yuria did not have a way to interact with their Lord. Her projections were just that—images. Even if she could enter the Black Well and see him, she couldn't interact with their god. But she would find a way.

She prepared herself as she sensed herself coming close. While he was dormant and not a threat to her, a mere sneeze of the god could wipe her existence from reality. As a matter of fact, if he didn't want her to see him, she wouldn't have had the slightest chance of ever coming close. The hurling waters slowed down, and the edges of a chamber formed. Yuria frowned. He was in a different location. That was a first. Her spirit came to a stop above what she could only call a half-baked, pauper's chamber.

Her own bedchamber was more appealing than whatever sorry excuse for a room this was.

'Did he decide the bare bones of luxury were too much for him?' The frown on her forehead deepened at the end of her thought. Tiles cracked and turned to dust. The chamber was disappearing.

'Wait.' Her heart stilled. This was an Initiation— Her gaze hurled towards the centre of the space. Lord Null was there. Chained. Hair wild. Body covered in blood. All of that was expected. But their Lord wasn't alone. A girl in school clothes was waving and yelled.

"I'll be back, Sir! When I do, I'll find a way to undo those chains next!" Then she vanished from the crumbling chamber. …

'She removed the scythe…?' No, hold on. That wasn't important—no, it absolutely was, but there were more pressing matters! Like how she was actually inside the Black Well. The entire realm was a fountain of miasma and death energy that no mortal, let alone a neophyte could survive. That meant the system had… but why would it… Ten million questions did combat for command of her mental faculties at once.

Out of them all, one pierced through Yuria's head the loudest: Did the God of Death, that emotionless tyrant who didn't care a lick about his followers all dying a slow death as their whole faction slowly disappeared from prominence, just smile? Almost as if he sensed her thoughts, the curve to the Lord's lips vanished. Something happened, and Yuria found herself shooting back at a thousand times her original speed until she slammed back into her body.

She fell over and barely kept herself from slamming into the ground.

"Sister!" the apprentices yelled. They interrupted their prayer and hurried towards her.

"Are you alright?! What happened?" Yuria heaved for breath. He expelled her…she was lucky that was all he'd done. That right there could've been her death. However, despite coming the closest she'd ever been to dying, a maniacal grin pulled across her face. Their salvation was here. Now they just had to find her.