The God of Death Just Wants to Quit?!

I never had a good relationship with my father. No, perhaps it would be more accurate to say I never had a relationship with him at all. I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times we've had any real contact.

Valerius Phatar, crown prince of the kingdom of Phatar. According to the palace maids, my mother was the one who chose that name. But I never had the chance to have a relationship with her either, since she died giving birth to me.

My mother was a low-ranking noblewoman and one of his many wives. My father, Dastor Phatar II, king of Phatar, did not even deign to attend her funeral. At least, that's what the rumors around the palace say.

When I was little, I thought he despised me, that he didn't love my mother, and that was why, despite being his firstborn, I meant nothing to him.

But as I grew older, I realized the truth.

That man doesn't care about family. To him, my siblings and I are nothing more than cogs keeping the kingdom running. Banners for the nobles to rally behind to safeguard their own power; a promise of stability to keep them at ease.

Even so, perhaps at those very nobles' insistence, my father once took me along on a diplomatic visit to Duskhaven.

To our kingdom, the empire is our mortal enemy; to them, we're an insignificant nuisance that isn't worth the trouble of eliminating. It's a reality everyone in Phatar's upper class knows.

Even that diplomatic visit was nothing more than an excuse to appease Duskhaven and keep them from deciding, once and for all, to put an end to our existence.

Of course, at that age, none of it interested me, and I didn't even understand it. The only things that bothered me were my loneliness, my father's cold gaze, and my servants' indifference.

I decided to run away the first chance I got.

As one might expect, it didn't take me long to end up completely lost in the countless corridors of the temple of Nereziel, where the empire had chosen to receive us. A deliberate slight against our delegation, of course.

Being lost didn't bother me. I hadn't run away with any destination in mind. Perhaps I simply wanted attention, wanted someone to notice me.

I walked until my feet began to hurt. By then, perhaps by coincidence, or perhaps because I had unconsciously chosen to follow the largest of the corridors, my aimless steps had carried me all the way to the temple's main hall.

There, my gaze settled on a colossal structure. It was a statue, far larger than anything I had ever seen in my short life.

I felt small, insignificant, and above all, afraid.

"What you see is the image of Nereziel, lord of eternal rest, purifier of souls, and the one who grants final peace."

When I turned around, I found a woman with long hair as black as night, dressed in ceremonial attire far more elaborate than that of any of the priests and priestesses I had passed along the way.

Her youthful appearance was deceptive. Even at that age, I could tell there was a wealth of experience hidden in those deep ash-gray eyes.

"Nere... ziel?"

Of course, no one had bothered to explain the root of our problems with the empire to me. I had no idea what god she was talking about, or exactly what kind of peace she meant.

But my childish mind immediately associated him with a god who stood above our Lord Helux. How could it have been otherwise with a statue like that?

The woman seemed intrigued by my ignorance. In hindsight, I would say she was taking pity on me.

"I heard a delegation would be coming to the temple around this time. If I remember correctly, it was from a kingdom of little importance, so a council representative had been assigned to receive them..." The woman leaned closer and studied me carefully. "To think they would bring such a young child with them."

"I... have nothing to do with them... I don't have a mother... I don't have... a father..." I looked away, trying not to let my lie show.

As far as I was concerned, it was true. I genuinely wanted nothing more to do with the father who despised me.

The woman smiled.

It was a mysterious smile that sent a shiver down my spine.

But she did not press the matter. Instead, she placed one hand on my shoulder and turned me back toward the gigantic statue.

I didn't really want to. The statue was frightening to a child my age who knew nothing about Nereziel. But I thought I shouldn't disobey a woman who looked so important.

"You know, my god is also the patron god of orphans."

"Of orphans?" I asked, looking up at her.

"Nations like yours believe he is because many orphans are destined to die. Especially in times of war."

The mere thought made me swallow hard. Was that the fate of children without parents?

I was so nervous at the time that I hadn't even stopped to consider the fact that the woman clearly knew exactly who I was.

"Don't worry. Nereziel isn't the patron god of orphans because they're more likely to meet him, but because long ago he saved a little girl who had lost everything, with even her life about to slip away. That is the true origin of his patronage."

Her voice was melodic when she wanted it to be, and as gentle as her touch on my hair.

That was my first encounter with the Eternal Empress, and the moment when my fear of Nereziel, that colossal figure before me, began to change into something else.

***

The mercenaries were slowly closing in around Nerez. Paying them no mind, he extended a hand, and a heavy black leather book appeared in it, its cover bearing an engraved silver skull bound beneath golden chains.

"He's a spellcaster!" one of the mercenaries exclaimed.

"Stay calm and wait for my signal, as always," Molder ordered, extending an arm. "If we attack at the same time, we won't give him a chance to react."

"Captain... I have a bad feeling about this," Clarile whispered into his ear after moving back to his side.

"I've already told you, you can call me Daddy." The middle-aged mercenary gave her a smile.

"This isn't the time for jokes," his daughter replied without taking her eyes off Nerez.

"This is exactly when you need to ease the tension, Clarile. Otherwise, your emotions will get the better of you before your opponent does."

Clarile nodded, but even when she tried to force a smile, the muscles in her face refused to relax.

Molder understood. There was something about the newcomer's presence that made even him feel as though he might start trembling if he lost focus.

"Now!"

But this was no time to hesitate. Hesitating would only give the spellcaster time to prepare. When Molder gave the order, all the mercenaries attacked at once.

"Memento Mori"

!!

Or at least they tried to.

They had barely taken a single step after Nerez uttered those words when chaos erupted.

Many simply collapsed. Others threw away their weapons and dropped to their knees, clutching their faces and screaming in terror. Most began vomiting as well, some even choking on it.

"Clarile... I think I'm going to die. Run... Run for your life!"

"I'm going to die, Dad! I'm going to die! I don't want to die!"

"Wha... what kind of spell is this...?"

Molder's face had gone pale, his expression one of absolute terror, while tears streamed endlessly down Clarile's cheeks. Even so, the two of them were the only ones still standing.

"I see the threat of punishment in the deepest layer of the underworld is having the expected effect in the mortal world," Nerez observed indifferently as he turned the pages of his Eidolon. "The worse they behaved in life, the more terrified they are by the certainty that their lives will eventually end. As you'd expect from mercenaries: rape, pillaging, murder... et cetera, et cetera..."

Memento Mori is a debuff. Basically, it forces living beings to directly confront the fact that they're going to die someday. I didn't expect it to be this effective, though... I was planning to test Mourning Day, but apparently that won't be necessary. Maybe that's for the best. Even before reaching proficiency S, its area of effect was already very wide, enough to reach the prince.

Once he'd checked everything he wanted to, Nerez closed the Book of Death and snapped his fingers.

Black Pyre

Black flames immediately consumed the bodies of all the mercenaries around him, leaving nothing but ashes behind.

All of them except two.

"This... can't be... Clarile! Hurry, run!"

But Molder's screams were in vain.

"What... was... that...?" Clarile dropped to her knees, unable to move.

Nerez had already ended Memento Mori's effect, but both mercenaries were still unable to move, now because of an entirely different kind of fear.

Now then. I wasn't expecting the next father-and-daughter pair I ran into after Falme and Alegor to have such different circumstances. The rest of these mercenaries deserved it, but according to what I read in the soul ledger, it'd be a shame if these two ended their journey through life here...

Nerez's gaze swept across the battlefield, from the two survivors to the piles of ash surrounding them.

I feel like Santa Claus, figuring out who's been naughty and who's been nice. A pretty grim Santa Claus, though... I think I owe Santa Claus an apology...

Seeing that Clarile could not move, Molder tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword and positioned himself between her and Nerez.

But when Clarile saw what he was doing, she too gathered her courage and got to her feet. Her legs were still trembling as she moved to stand beside her father.

"Clarile, if you can stand, get out of here."

"I'm not leaving you alone, Captain. I don't care if that's an order."

Molder looked at his rebellious daughter and let out a heavy sigh.

"Nereziel, I entrust my family and myself to you. I beg you to receive us with open arms and, in your mercy, allow us to reunite with Amiela."

Well, this is awkward...

"Captain, perhaps Aren will take pity on us and give us a chance. We don't need to prepare for the worst just yet."

"You're right, Clarile. It isn't over until it's over."

And now Aren comes up. What a nostalgic name... Well, if they still want to fight, this is a good opportunity to try out my sword for the first time.

Nerez raised his free hand, and the ring Thaelor had given him began to glow. At that moment, a long sword with a black blade, its edge and engravings silver, materialized in his hand.

This sword is made from minerals formed during Eryndea's creation. Just what you'd expect from Erebion. You really can't underestimate how much a titan born alongside the world itself knows. It had to be forged in the demons' forge at the Fortress of Fire, which uses lava from Eryndea's molten core. Even Drazira, who wields Escarion, was impressed.

Nerez moved the sword from side to side, examining it carefully.

I lost my enthusiasm for weapons many lifetimes ago, but this really is unlike anything I've ever held before.

"Captain... I wouldn't be surprised if that sword was an artifact..." Clarile said, studying it.

"Devastating spells, legendary weapons... I really don't know what we've stumbled into. Clarile, get ready. It's all or nothing."

"I'm ready, Captain! No... Dad!"

Molder nodded with a smile, and the two of them prepared to attack at the same time.

All right, I'll focus on blocking their attacks for a while. I want to see how this sword feels in my hands.

"Let's go!"

At Molder's shout, father and daughter lunged at Nerez.

!!

Molder came at him from the front with a powerful sword strike, while Clarile swiftly moved into position behind Nerez and delivered two quick thrusts.

Clink

Clink Clink

Nerez's blade met the mercenaries' weapons only three times, each contact barely more than a touch. First Molder's sword, then, an instant later, both of Clarile's daggers.

In both cases, the mercenaries' weapons were cut in two without the slightest resistance.

"..."

"..."

"..."

They felt like they were made of butter. And not even hard, frozen butter, but butter left out in the sun until it was almost melted...

Molder and Clarile stared at the hilts left in their hands for a moment, then sank to their knees in defeat.

Now it looks like I only pulled out the sword to bully them... In my defense, they had good instincts. This would've made for good practice if not for the difference in weapons.

"Ahem..." Nerez cleared his throat, trying to lighten the painfully dark mood. "To sum things up, Molder, unlike your subordinates, you were an honorable soldier, but your superiors betrayed you. You had no choice but to survive as a mercenary. And to make matters worse, when your wife died of illness, you had to bring your daughter with you because you had no one else to leave her with."

"How...?! How do you know all that?!"

"It's a kind of skill... that's not what's important right now. What's important is that putting the two of you to the sword would leave a bad taste in my mouth."

Molder and Clarile looked at each other, neither quite understanding what was happening.

Truth be told, it'd be pretty awkward if I ended up running into them in the underworld, especially after they just mentioned me like that... The rest of the mercenaries will be purified in the river, and the worst of them will fall into the Deeps, but knowing Edrick, he'll probably take these two to Elysium...

"Does that mean... you'll spare us?" Clarile asked, tears in her eyes.

"That's right, but you two need to mend your ways. I was a mercenary myself in another li... at another time, but being a mercenary doesn't have to mean going around kidnapping people." Nerez let out a sigh and turned his gaze to Molder. "Still, I understand that work is scarce in times of peace and that you didn't want to move far away from your wife's grave."

"You even figured that out... Who are you, really...?"

"Well, we don't even have a mercenary company to lead anymore," Clarile added.

"I recently met another father-and-daughter pair. I'll talk to them and see if they have any work for the two of you as part of their household guard."

Molder and Clarile exchanged another look, this time with their eyes shining and smiles on their faces.

"That really would be a blessing!" the former mercenary captain exclaimed.

"I'm not promising anything. I need to speak with them first... Speaking of things I need to do first..."

Nerez remembered the prince existed and headed over to the tree where they had left him.

He had been silent the entire time, but his expression wasn't one of terror. Instead, he stared at Nerez in sheer astonishment, his eyes wide as saucers.

Looks like I made too much of an impression... After I free him, I'll get away before he starts asking uncomfortable questions.

Black Pyre

By designating the ropes as the only thing being consigned to the pyre, Nerez allowed the black flames to consume Valerius's bindings without harming him.

Valerius paid no attention to any of it. The moment he was free, he prostrated himself at Nerez's feet.

!!

"I never imagined I would see my god in person! I can't believe I have the honor of standing before Nereziel, Lord of the Eternal Rest!"

Molder and Clarile exchanged looks for the umpteenth time that day.

"Clarile, did you give the prince some strange mushroom to eat?"

"I didn't have time to give him anything. It's not my fault... Maybe it's the stress."

Nerez, meanwhile, tried in vain to shade his face with one hand.

"I think you've got me confused with someone else. I don't know this Nereziel fellow..."

"I could never mistake you, my god! The Eternal Empress gave me a statue of you that I pray to every morning! Even my father can't destroy it, as it would be an insult to the empire!"

Now I'm starting to understand why the Church of the Sun wanted to kidnap him...