My Dungeon Life: Rise of the Slave Harem

“Why? What’s going?” I frowned.

I assumed he was being a little melodramatic. Wars here were not fought like wars in my old world. That naturally had to do with one major difference. Resurrection! Since death could be circumvented, wars in this world had more to do with resources. When one side ran out of resources, whether that be money, mana, Priests, or weapons… then they must surrender. One thing about death is that it didn’t bring back equipment.

There might be soldiers who get forgotten or they don’t feel should be resurrected, but for the most part, a noble would never have to fear death on the border. That’s why I was curious about how Lord Tibult had grown such a haunted look.

“I died.” He said. “I promised myself after I died in the Capitol that that would be the last time, yet I died again.”

“Ah…”

I had only died once since I had been to this world, but I heard of a condition unique to this world called Death Mania. Essentially, every time someone died, they took a certain degree of damage to their mind and soul. If someone died too many times in close succession, that damage became an integrated part of them. It was like scar tissue repeatedly building up.

For everyone who experienced Death Mania, it manifested in different ways. Some people grew psychotic, not valuing life and becoming brutal murders and rapists. Others simply become suicidal, racing into danger without value for their lives. The third kind was like Lord Tibult here. They grow a haunted look, becoming terrified of their next death. Having seen the nothingness beyond, they become more scared than anyone over a repeat.

This is actually a big concern in the Adventuring Guild. Back when I first came to this world and joined the guild, the Big Sister used to tell me that if I ever died more than twice in a year, that I should find her and she’d take care of me. Adventurers like that were considered at risk. She said if I had any lustful tendencies, she’d take care of them. I hadn’t seen Big Sister in a while.

If someone reached five deaths in a year, or ten deaths in five years, Adventuring Guilds stop giving you missions. It is kind of like the concussion epidemic of sports in my old world. Except rather than damage to your brain, it was damage to your soul. Even resurrection had its limits. I was glad I had died only once. Regrettably, Miki had already passed away twice. Yet, she was a Spiritualist and thus was able to mitigate the damage a lot better than most. Either way, I did worry about her dying again.

Of course, there was only one problem with what Lord Tibult was saying. He had only died twice, so how could he be suffering from anything?

“I died three times.” Otto continued.

“It’s only been a few weeks!” I cried out and then blushed. “Ah… sorry.”

Otto’s fist tightened. “The last time, I made a mistake. I got captured and wasn’t able to commit suicide. My brother stormed the enemy line and managed to kill me.”

“R-really…” My face twitched.

Some family they were. His brother didn’t save him but killed him.

“I may be a low-ranked officer, but under torture, I could give away information,” Otto explained bitterly. “That’s why he did it. However, he failed to kill himself and was thus captured in turn. I was resurrected, but my brother Octius took my place. Father was furious.”

“He’s a high-rank officer, right?”

Otto nodded. “If he breaks, the intel he reveals would be many times more dangerous than the intel I could have revealed. It may even be enough… for the Ost Republic to invade Aberis!”