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A kind-hearted Death God?
What a joke. It was the height of absurdity.
Yet Baal had to believe what he saw. Death God truly showed no desire to fight. How could someone who had lost even the most basic feelings of a living being unleash the terrifying Undead Calamity again and again?
He only wanted to go outside, to see the place where he had once lived. That was the sole belief keeping him alive. Without that last thread, he would be no different from a stubborn rock, devoid of any sense of self.
"Although I don't know why the consciousness I sent outside became like that, over the years I've come to feel that this so-called Netherworld has always been under his control!"
"Beware the Nether King!"
"And beware the Netherworld Scythe!"
Death God gave the Netherworld Scythe in Baal's hand one last look. Not a ripple stirred in his eyes, not a trace of feeling. Without looking back, he walked toward the Nether River. Its waters, which should never have been able to swallow him, gradually submerged his body.
He vanished. Perhaps this wisp of consciousness left in the Netherworld had fulfilled its wish and dissipated after learning what had happened outside. Or perhaps he had truly sunk into the unknown depths of the Nether River, never to emerge again.
A Death God stripped of all feeling and hope was no different from stone. Even if his body could still move, he was nothing more than a walking rock without emotion.
No anger, no grief, no joy, no pain. Greed, wrath, delusion, jealousy, hatred—every emotion was gone. Now his