The Lands Between, Liurnia of the Lakes.
Since this was a world constructed by the System, it naturally wasn't like the original game where the water only reached a horse's ankles.
Here, thick fog blanketed the region year-round. One moment the ground felt solid beneath your feet, the next you might plunge into a pool over ten meters deep.
Arthur had already fallen into these waters more than once.
In his previous life, he hadn't even known how to swim. Here, he'd been forced to learn.
Once again, he swam to shore, just as dusk was fading into night.
The next second, a "Deathbird" appeared amidst the crumbling ruins at the lake's edge.
It spat a breath of deathly flame straight at him.
Arthur tried to fight while retreating, planning to kite it as usual.
But the moment after, countless black vines burst from his body.
When he opened his eyes again, he was back in the real world.
He froze. That fast? Was the instant-death trigger really so quick?
What about his Twelve Trials? Weren't they supposed to grant resistance after being hit?
"System, what's going on?"
[Death's power is absolute in every world. The resistance granted by the 'Twelve Trials' cannot affect it.]
[When the host is burned by the Deathbird's flames beyond a threshold, instant-death will be triggered.]
[The host may expend one Resurrection charge to completely negate the power of death.]
In the game, Arthur had two revival options:
one, respawning at a Grace after a 24-hour cooldown;
two, resurrecting instantly through the Twelve Trials.
But he had always kept the second option disabled.
After all, he only had eleven Resurrection chances in total.
Yes, life energy could replenish them—but how much would it take?
And life energy had grades. The red crystal vials he carried only had enough power to heal injuries and restore stamina.
By his estimate, refilling even one Resurrection might take hundreds or thousands of those vials.
The next day, Arthur logged in again and headed straight back to the ruins.
This time, it was night.
From a distance, he spotted the Deathbird patrolling.
Without even casting a spell, he drew a greatsword and charged.
He hates this thing now.
The instant-death effect was excruciating—the sensation of black vines tearing out of his flesh was worse than being cut to pieces.
And he was about to go through it again.
The Deathbird noticed him and, as usual, spewed its gray-white flame.
Arthur barreled through the inferno, leapt onto its skull, and slammed its bony head with his fists.
Blow after blow rained down until half its health was gone.
Only then did instant-death trigger, and he collapsed.
"Resurrection!"
The moment he died, Arthur whispered the command.
The vines sloughed off, his body healed, and he revived at full strength.
Grabbing his sword, he smashed the Deathbird relentlessly until it dissolved into mist and returned to the Erdtree.
"Phew. Trying the warrior's path once in a while isn't bad. Pretty cathartic, actually."
"I remember there's a Death Rite Bird in Liurnia too… perfect, round two!"
After resting briefly, Arthur made for the Gate Town.
Sure enough, north of the settlement, the Death Rite Bird circled ominously.
Its wingspan and body dwarfed the Deathbird's, and it wielded a weapon blazing with deathflame.
Unfortunately for it, Arthur was now immune to instant-death.
He pounded it to dust with his greatsword.
Its drop surprised him:
[Ancient Death Ghostflame: One of the rare death magics of the Lands Between. Summons vengeful spirits that automatically seek out and strike foes, dealing heavy damage with a chance to trigger instant-death.]
This was his first death magic.
In the Lands Between, death's power was held by only a few.
He guessed there were fewer than ten spells of this kind in existence.
Lucky him to have one so soon after crossing over.
Especially since, in the real world, he lacked any instant-kill techniques.
Logging out, Arthur used the Zen Garden key to enter.
He summoned his clone and had it cast Ancient Death Ghostflame on his body.
No instant-death trigger.
"Arghhh! Again!"
Grinding his teeth, he pulled out the Philosopher's Stone and absorbed the small reserve of life energy inside to restore himself.
His clone continued firing ghostflame at him.
This wasn't pointless masochism.
Yes, the Twelve Trials could revive him.
But in a real battle, every second counted.
He couldn't exactly fall, resurrect, and then keep fighting in front of an enemy.
If they realized he could revive, they might flee. Worse, they could spread the news, painting a giant target on his back.
No—he had to shore up his resistances in advance.
He'd long wanted to build immunity to instant-death, but never had the chance.
Why not just use Avada Kedavra, someone might ask?
Because it wasn't suitable.
The Killing Curse was tied deeply to the caster's emotions.
If your killing intent wasn't strong enough, the best you'd do was give someone a nosebleed.
Arthur wasn't schizophrenic, nor did he have a violent alter ego.
He couldn't muster that kind of malice against himself.
Now, with Lands Between Death magic, he finally had a way.
And someday, when an enemy's Killing Curse hit him only to fizzle out—oh, the look on their face would be priceless.
At last, after draining the Philosopher's Stone's energy, he triggered instant-death.
Vines burst through his flesh once more.
Upon resurrection, he had achieved complete immunity to instant-death magic.
"Damn! Sleep. Never self-torture again!"
Death magic wasn't like other spells that only damaged the body.
It struck both body and soul.
When his clone attacked earlier, it had only been his consciousness controlling the avatar—he hadn't felt it.
Now, with his body under assault, he understood.
The spirits that passed through him stole his life energy, weakening his body and leaving him cold, corpse-like.
The deathflames seared his very soul, burning from within.
It was agony—ice and fire together.
Exhausted, Arthur collapsed onto his bed and fell asleep.
Spiritual fatigue was not easy to shake off.
For days afterward, Arthur seemed sluggish, unable to muster energy for anything.
The first to notice was Hermione.
Seeing her cousin listless for days, she dragged him to the infirmary.
Madam Pomfrey gave him a thorough check and declared him perfectly healthy—
likely just mentally overworked.
She advised more rest, fresh air, and green plants.
So Arthur spent days staring at the flora in his Zen Garden.
Eventually, bored of that, he dismantled his dead wyvern Agheel's corpse, fashioning a fishing rod from its bones and tendons.
Using alchemy, he etched reinforcing runes into the rod.
The result was a rod and line strong enough to withstand even a whale.
From then on, whenever he had no classes, Arthur took his rod to the Black Lake to fish.
And strangely enough, spacing out with a rod in hand really did help his mind recover.
A few days later, Arthur felt his spirit return in full.
Not only that—his mental power could now extend outward, sensing his surroundings.
By projecting it, everything within a hundred meters painted itself in his mind, down to the movements of ants on the ground.
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