A dull longsword and a heartbroken villager

“There are still tombs in the underworld that linger…” Bray muttered to himself by the campfire.

Because of Eric's probing, the other party revealed a lot of information.

That guy was basically in a rage, and he said a lot of things without thinking them through.

It's impossible to glean much information from a person who is absolutely loyal to a particular entity through normal conversation.

Therefore, provoking someone is the simplest way, and the more loyal they are, the easier it is for them to fall for it.

Honestly, Bray still can't understand what those who believe in God are thinking.

I doubt that even those who believe in God can understand why a person can be without faith.

Ultimately, it's difficult for people to understand each other.

However, it is not hard to see that the group that called themselves the Deathbringers had long since given everything to the golden seed that saved them in the apocalypse.

The golden seed was aimed directly at the "Wandering Tomb".

Although the Golden Seeds are capable of interfering with Kapras, their intrusion into Kapras would certainly have a significant impact on them.

Even the talkative goddess has only improved the function of communicating through walls.

The so-called "Lord of the Underworld, Dizoka" descended in his avatar, and he was certainly affected to some extent.

Is the reason why He is willing to pay any price to have someone destroy the "Wandering Tomb"? Is it because He can return to Kapras after the "Wandering Tomb" is destroyed?

But is it really that simple? If so, the "World Wall" would lose face.

It's giving me a headache. I seem to know a lot of things, but in reality, I only have a superficial understanding.

"I hope Mira is alright," Bray murmured.

Bray didn't know what would happen after the "Wandering Tomb" collapsed, but he knew that if this quiet place ceased to exist—

Mira, the guardian of the grave, will also cease to exist.

Although Bray was worried about the horrific consequences of the cemetery's collapse, sure enough... the reason he didn't want the cemetery to be destroyed by these death hunters was that he didn't want Mira to disappear.

"Dizzoka, Lord of the Underworld..." Bray murmured the name of this golden species, memorizing it. In a small town in the wilderness, there was a vitality that shouldn't exist in the wasteland.

The town's buildings were mostly destroyed once, but they were later rebuilt.

However, the traces of previous destruction are still there.

On the outskirts of this town are the skeletons of countless monsters and shrubs with withered black leaves.

However, what's truly surprising about the town isn't these things, but rather the fact that the magic circle Betley originally planned to be there is nowhere to be found.

In other words, this is not a safe zone.

Betley is not omnipotent; he cannot possibly set up magic circles in every corner of Kapras.

In reality, many villages and towns are too busy with the preparations to be done.

Almost all areas without the protection of the magic array have become hell, except for this town.

There was no magic array, but the people here were not threatened in any way and lived quite normally.

For some reason, the silver mines have not paid any attention to this place, nor do they seem to have any concept of affecting it.

Only monsters would attack this town, but for the people of this town, monsters are not a threat at all.

"Ah, the statue is lit up! They've returned!" one person exclaimed excitedly, pointing at the statue and speaking to the others around him.

When the others saw the statue in the center of the town light up, they seemed to smile as well.

The statue in the center of the town is a figure wearing a hooded black robe, with its face obscured beneath the hood.

The statue holds a sickle.

Although the god is carved in a rather simple style, and the sickle is not a proper weapon, it does not prevent everyone from worshipping the idol.

The statues emitted a dim light, and from the two open stone coffins beside them emerged a series of death-reaping beings.

They were the same death hunters who had recently come into contact with Bray, a group of people who believed in "Lord of the Underworld, Dizoka" and worked to achieve his goals.

The sight of a person emerging from a stone coffin was terrifying, but everyone in the town was used to it.

This town is the very place where the incarnation of "Lord of the Underworld, Dizoka" happened to descend.

The town was saved because of this god who controlled life and death in the underworld.

The town shares a common understanding in its residents who revere "Lord of the Underworld, Dizoka"—men, women, and children alike devoutly believe in Him.

The reason is simple: compared to other "gods," this god truly extended a helping hand to mortals and gave them hope.

Even though the power this god wields may not seem so upright, and may even be somewhat terrifying, people are still willing to believe in Him.

However, in reality, "life and death" and "the underworld" are not as terrifying as people think.

Isn't this just part of the world? There's nothing to be afraid of; just face it honestly.

The sarcophagus serves as a bridge for the Deathbringer to travel to various places. After using divine techniques, the Deathbringer can travel from here to any part of the world.

That's right, they weren't just spreading death for Dizoca in the Middle Continent; they were also active on other continents.

"Lord of the Underworld, Dizoka," now has a total of 120 life-reapers, and He has generously bestowed upon them powerful divine strength.

To Him, this "power" was nothing more than a fragment of a concept, not something precious.

The act of incarnating upon Kapras was more damaging to His essence than bestowing divine power upon Him.

In any case, the divine arts mastered by these 120 people are incomparable to those of the followers of previous religions.

They were the recipients of divine power that "Lord of the Underworld, Dizoka" had earnestly bestowed upon them.

Of course, the blessings of the gods are not unlimited, and the divine power of each life-taker is finite.

The Deathbringer never uses divine magic without restraint during its operations, and the expedition was able to escape thanks to this.

Unfortunately, starting today, there are only 119 riders left.

Fourteen men dressed in black robes returned amidst cheers, as if in triumph.

Do the townspeople not know what the Deathbringer's mission is? Of course they do.

From the day that deity saved everyone in the town, they knew what the great being desired.

So, are they insane? How can they cheer for actions that resemble those of bloodthirsty executioners?

Maybe everyone in town has gone mad, or maybe no one has gone mad at all.

The only certainty is that everyone in the town is a devout follower of the god who rules the underworld.

There is no eternal light in the world, only certain death.

But the god of death did not take their lives; instead, he showed them boundless mercy.

"Where is Daddy? Uncle, where is Daddy?" A little girl, holding a wreath, stood on tiptoe, constantly searching for her father.

Although her father was also dressed in a black robe, she was absolutely able to recognize him.

That back view, that figure, that voice—she knew them all too well.

However, she did not find her father among the fourteen killers.

Wait, fourteen? Weren't there fifteen people when we set off? Did I miscount?

The girl looked around blankly, holding the wreath, unsure of what to do.

The flower, this plant, has not disappeared, but it is extremely difficult to find.

It's as if beautiful things in the world are exceptionally hard to find; they clearly exist, yet you just can't find them.

The flowers in the girl's hand were retrieved by the kind-hearted people of the town who risked all sorts of dangers to find them.

They said that the wreath made by their daughter would surely make the father, who was seeking revenge, feel much better.

Constantly killing people like yourself will drive even the most determined person to madness; he needs some reassurance.

The girl thought so too, so she made what she thought was the most beautiful wreath, hoping to remove her father's terrifying skull mask and then put the wreath on his head.

She thought that this would help her father's dark circles go down a bit and that he would eat more.

“Third Uncle.” The girl walked up to a Deathbringer who had removed his mask and looked at him with hopeful eyes.

The names of those who claimed lives were gradually forgotten; apart from their own relatives and friends, it is estimated that no one remembered their real names.

For example, this man known as the Third Rider, if his face hadn't been torn apart on the day of the disaster, would be quite handsome even at thirty years old now.

He even forgot his own name, because it had been so long since he had used his real name.

"Where's Dad? Is he at the very back?" the girl asked疑惑地.

The man, who had even forgotten his own name, knelt before the girl, staring speechlessly at the wreath.

Wreaths should be a more beautiful gift, not an item for mourning.

“The thirty-fifth rider… no, Halkan…” He had prepared his words, but he didn’t know how to begin.

The third rider, holding the wreath the girl handed him, remained silent for a long time.

The man who died in battle, his daughter is crying in a voice of near despair.

In a daze, the third rider forgot exactly how he had uttered that cruel truth.

This wasn't the first time I'd heard such crying, but every time I did, it broke my heart.

As an executioner, he should have been numb; on that day of catastrophe, he had heard enough cries...

Disaster Day, that's what the townspeople call that day.

It is estimated that the entire Caprae community still does not have a unified voice on the day of the apocalypse.

It can be called the day of the end of the world, the day of disaster, or even the day of returning to zero.

He left the side of the thirty-fifth rider's daughter and put away the wreath.

The girl gave him the wreath for some reason, but he accepted it as a gift.

Of the 120 killers, half were madmen immersed in killing, but the other half were like the Third Rider.

They knew what they were doing, and were fully aware that they were trampling on the lives of innocent people.

But it was a divine commandment, and they did it without hesitation.

Sinful beyond redemption—that's how this group of killers defines themselves.

There's no need to be hypocritical and claim to be a good person. Right now, they are standing on the opposite side of you, a lower race, and are evil ones spreading death.

Even if their goal was to have "Lord of the Underworld, Dizoka" cleanse the Silver Seeds, the fact that the process was rife with evil cannot be denied.

The third rider could only hope that these things wouldn't need to be carried by the entire town, but only by a few people.

He certainly held "Lord of the Underworld, Dizoka" in the highest esteem, but when it came to faith, he wasn't particularly devout.

Compared to many people in the town, his faith was not as steadfast.

However, he believed that "Lord of the Underworld, Dizoka" would keep his promise.

Why believe? Because even if the gods break their promise, the world probably won't get any worse.

Did he have any other choice but to believe? No, he had no other choice.

This god could clearly tell who was more devout to Him, but He still granted the third divine power.

Because "Lord of the Underworld Dizoka" doesn't need faith, he only needs someone who can truly accomplish the task of destroying the "Wandering Tomb" for him.

If "Lord of the Underworld, Dizoka" really did descend when that graveyard was destroyed, if He really did wipe out the Silver Seeds that occupied the world.

So when he was nailed to the cross, it wasn't a big deal.

"Third Master, I'm sorry, we couldn't even bring back the body of the Thirty-Fifth Rider," a man in black robes said apologetically.

Strictly speaking, all those who seek death are equal; from one to one hundred and twenty, no one receives more divine power.

Without exception, they all gained superhuman strength, but in reality, there are still significant differences in their abilities.

The third rider is undoubtedly a strongman; he may not be the strongest, but only one or two can rival him.

Most others would respectfully address him as "Third Rider."

Except for a few madmen who only see killing.

This is because the third rider has never gone all out, and many crazy people are not convinced at all.

"It's alright, we have no way to go to the Underworld," the third rider said, shaking his head.