Era of Players: Death God

There was no spray of blood, no ragged gasp of pain. The chieftain simply… ceased to be. Its headless body crumpled to the ground, a puppet with its strings severed. The phantom sword dissolved with a wisp of smoke, leaving only Nemesis, its familiar form gleaming in Noah's hand.

The metallic tang of blood hung heavy in the air, a sickening counterpoint to the acrid smoke still curling from the burning village. Noah stood there, drenched in a crimson geyser that had erupted from the gnoll chieftain's severed neck. His body trembled, not just from exertion, but from the weight of the choices he'd made.

This wasn't a battlefield victory fanfare playing in his head; it was a mournful dirge.

He sank to his knees, the taste of ash acrid on his tongue, a bitter reflection of the emotions churning within him. Had he achieved anything here? The village lay in ruins. The gnolls, both monstrous and innocent, were all gone.

With a groan that escaped his lips like a prayer, Noah pushed himself to his feet. His body screamed in protest, muscles screaming and bones aching.

He glanced towards the distant glint of water – a small lake he'd noticed earlier. A bath wouldn't erase the bloodstains or the weight of his actions, but perhaps it would offer a moment of cleansing, a chance to wash away some of the metaphorical grime that clung to him.

"A bath in the lake before going back," he muttered, his voice hoarse.

The cool water of the lake offered a stark contrast to the heat and stench of the burning village. Despite the grime clinging to him, Noah hesitated at the water's edge. A full bath wouldn't erase the bloodstains or the weight of his actions, but it felt wrong to return to Arion's mansion reeking of death.

With a grimace, he settled for a light wash. He splashed water on his face, scrubbing away the blood and soot that painted a grim mask on his features. The metallic tang lingered in his mouth, a constant reminder of the carnage he'd unleashed.

He emerged from the water, a damp chill replacing the clinging heat.

Noah decided to reactivate the notification feature, which would once again prompt him to receive notifications.

[You have 200% Exp]

[You have level up!]

[You have Level up!]

■Status Window

Name: Noah Adler

Rank: Expert

Level 44

Class: Angel of Death

Title: Goblin Slayer

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☆Stats☆

Mana: 104

Strength: 112

Intelligence: 94

Dexterity: 112

Luck: 87

Stat Points: 4

Coins: 3060G

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☆Skills☆

Common Skill: {Basic Swordsmanship},{Basic Close Combat} {Presence Detection} {Master of Weapons} {Mana's Armor Lvl 1} {Shadow Steps Level 1} {Blood Flowers} {Splitting Ripple Slash LVl 1} {Fangs of Insanity} {Flame Art} {Telekinesis Lv1}

Exclusive Skills: {Seal of Death} {Night of Death} {Lord of the Night}

◇◇◇◇◇

☆Runes ☆

{Basic Strength},{Basic Speed} {Angel of Death}

■

The acrid tang of the city's ever-present smog hit Noah like a slap, a strange sense of comfort amidst the turmoil churning within him. It was a bizarre sensation, finding solace in pollution after the devastation he'd witnessed. Perhaps it was a reminder of the world he was fighting for, its flaws and all, a world far preferable to the darkness he'd just encountered.

The weight of the past few days felt like an eternity. He needed to clear his head, to process the emotional toll of his actions. But first, duty called. Reporting to the guild took precedence. Their assessment and any potential intel they possessed could prove invaluable in his next foray into the caverns.

With a determined stride, Noah navigated the bustling city streets, his golden eyes scanning the crowds. He was a solitary figure, a silent guardian shrouded in the weight of his grim secret. The gnoll threat was eliminated, but the true battle had just begun, a battle he couldn't wage alone.

He needed the guild's resources, their knowledge, and perhaps even a sliver of their unwavering faith to bolster his own.

Reaching the imposing guild hall, he pushed open the heavy oak doors and stepped inside. The familiar bustle of warriors and adventurers greeted him, a welcome distraction from the horrors he carried within. Here, amidst the clang of sharpening steel and the boisterous tales of exploits, he could shed the mantle of harbinger of death for a moment.

He found the receptionist, a woman with a weathered face and eyes that held the glint of a seasoned warrior herself.

"Reporting in," he rasped, his voice hoarse from the ordeal.

"Mission to the gnoll-infested caverns and other missions– complete."

Relief washed over Noah as he stepped out of the guild hall. The bustle and normalcy of the city offered a stark contrast to the horrors he'd witnessed. But the relief was fleeting, replaced by a dull ache of exhaustion and a gnawing sense of unease. He needed a proper cleansing, a chance to wash away more than just the physical grime.

With a tired sigh, Noah made his way to Arion's mansion. The grand structure seemed almost out of place nestled within the bustling city, a haven of luxury in a world teetering on the brink. He navigated the familiar halls, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. The weight of his mission, the lives lost, pressed heavily on him.

Reaching the second floor, he his room and headed straight for the bathing chambers. The promise of a long, hot soak was all that kept him moving. As he shed his clothes, a grimace contorted his face. The stench of smoke, blood, and despair clung to him like a shroud.

He sank into the steaming water, a wave of relief washing over him as it relaxed his aching muscles. The hot water couldn't erase the memories of the village, the gnolls, or the chilling realization that lurked beneath the surface. But it did offer a temporary respite, a chance to numb the emotional toll of his actions.

Pushing open the heavy oak doors to the kitchen, Noah was greeted by a stark contrast to the horrors he'd witnessed. Warm light emanated from the hearth, casting dancing shadows across gleaming countertops. The air hung heavy with the comforting aroma of familiar spices, a soothing balm to his frayed nerves.

He was alone, a solitary figure in the vast kitchen. An unfamiliar pang of loneliness stuck him.

'What is wrong with me?' But dwelling on it wouldn't serve him. He took a deep breath, pushing the dark thoughts aside. Right now, he needed a distraction, a focus that wasn't drenched in blood and despair.

Cooking, an activity once relegated to leisure, now held a deeper appeal. It was a chance to reclaim a semblance of normalcy, a small act of creation in a world teetering on the brink. He rummaged through the well-stocked pantry, his eyes scanning the ingredients.

Tonight called for something simple, a one-person meal that wouldn't require elaborate preparation. Perhaps a seared steak with roasted vegetables, a dish he could whip up with practiced ease. He found the necessary ingredients, a satisfied smile gracing his lips for the first time since leaving the caverns.

As he worked, the rhythmic clatter of the knife chopping vegetables provided a calming counterpoint to the turmoil within him. The sizzle of the steak hitting the hot pan filled the air, a familiar sound that grounded him in the present. Focusing on the task at hand, he meticulously seasoned the meat, the practiced motions offering a strange sense of solace.

The act of creation, however small, served as a quiet rebellion against the darkness he fought. He wouldn't let it consume him. He would find moments of normalcy, of life, to fuel his resolve.

The sizzle of the steak had faded, replaced by a contented silence as Noah placed the plate on the table. The steam from the perfectly seared meat mingled with the roasted vegetables, creating a mouthwatering aroma that filled the kitchen and soothed the hollowness in his stomach.

He looked at the finished product, a simple meal transformed into a small victory. Cooking had been more than just a distraction; it had been a fun activity.

Reaching for a bottle stored on a high shelf, he retrieved a familiar wine he enjoyed. Tonight, he wouldn't just eat, he'd savor. He poured a generous amount, the deep red liquid swirling in the glass like liquid embers.

With a deep breath, he raised the glass in a silent toast. "To those lost," he murmured, the memory of the innocent villagers and desperate gnolls flickering in his mind.

"May your souls rest in peace."

He took a long sip, the wine warming him from the inside out. The robust flavor offered a welcome counterpoint to the emotional turmoil churning within him. He ate with gusto, each bite a deliberate act of self-care.

As he finished his meal, the exhaustion of the past few days finally caught up with him. He pushed away from the table, the warmth of the wine and the satisfying meal already working their magic. With a weary sigh, he decided to turn in early. He needed his strength for what was to come.

Tomorrow, he would report to Arion.

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