Players' NPC boss

Even if the Einherjar dies, they can be resurrected in the Hall of Heroes, just like the Blessed. But the difference is that the Einherjar is a low-profile version of the Blessed.

Not only because the Blessed can get a profession, but also because the soul of the Blessed can be rekindled again and again even if it is crushed, and the Einherjar cannot withstand the soul crushing.

Unless the Einherjar can break through the limit of LV100, they are overwhelmingly at a disadvantage in front of the powerful Blessed.

Marika picked up the mace on the ground and pressed the sharp barbs against the chest of the Einherjar Singh. There are two huge blood holes on the man's face. It's not just blindness, but the eyes are dug out.

"Why do you want to hurt Toretori and her daughter?"

"... I don't hate them." The Einherjar Singh, whose body is gradually collapsing, murmured.

"I killed hundreds of people in battles before I died, so it was natural for me to be killed. But that was normal for me. This place fixed our spirits at the moment of death in order to keep the warriors inside full of fighting spirit forever."

"I was forever frozen in the shame and anger of being killed by a mother and daughter, and the mother and daughter always kept the moment of mental collapse."

The two holes flowed with bright red blood, like tears, and like a nearly crazy spirit.

Endless time of thinking should have allowed people to transcend themselves and give countless opportunities for redemption to those with bloodstained hands. But as long as you are in the Hall of Heroes, as soon as you open your eyes, you will only see the death that seems to be yesterday.

"Here... is not a place of honor at all, but just a hell of repeated death."

The body of the Heroic Warrior Singer turned into dust, and a soul flame emerged and slowly floated towards the Hall of Heroes.

Marika reached out and grabbed the soul flame. She only needed to pinch it lightly, and the Heroic Warrior Singer would disappear and return to nothingness. But...

Marika looked down at the bloodstained white cloth in her hand. She had seen many people who committed heinous crimes, and Singer the Einherjar was undoubtedly the best among them.

He killed Torretori and had to kill them again and again in Valhalla.

This was Singer the Einherjar's own choice, but it was not entirely his own choice. Under the power of Valhalla, his soul became a puppet of emotions at the time of death.

Marika finally chose to let go and let Singer the Einherjar's flames float to Valhalla.

"Hawkins, what kind of place is Valhalla?"

Marika took the bloodstained cloth back to the headless dwarf workshop, and Torretori and her daughter still did not wake up.

"The destination of the dead in battle, the land of heaven, the countless honors gained by eternal battles, and the salvation army at Ragnarok." The dwarf Hawkins seemed to have known that Marika would ask this question and prepared a standard answer in advance.

"Eternally high morale, always boiling blood, this is undoubtedly a perfect legion. But in that kind of heroic battle to become a dead warrior, how many such heroes are there?"

"Probably only about one tenth." As the leader of the Royal Knights, Marika climbed step by step from the grassroots, and saw and participated in the war with the Giant Kingdom.

There were crusades against powerful regional lords, frictions with the Holy Cross Theocracy, and even wars with the predecessor of the Eternal Kingdom - the vassal kingdoms.

None of the dead who died for the people and comrades were afraid of death. They knew that their return was only nothingness, but they still sacrificed their lives.

But if it was just to go to a place where you can enjoy yourself, the mental state at the moment of real death is unknown. At least those who regard fighting to death as a ticket to enjoyment will not have the spirit of not fearing death.

"Not even one tenth. Wild boar meat, divine honey wine, and eternal enjoyment attract people in the [World Tree] to fight constantly. But those who are attracted by material enjoyment will only have enjoyment in their minds at the moment of death."

"The magnificent paradise has long been corrupted from the inside, and there are only maggots that enjoy themselves. But although they are maggots, their power is still unquestionable." The words of the dwarf Hawkins were very sharp. In the endless years of creating Gungnir for the second generation of one-eyed, he had long seen through the inner qualities of every heroic warrior.

But when it comes to Torretori, his tone softened a little.

"In addition to maggots, there are also [failures] like Torretori and her daughter. What they desire is peace, but unfortunately, whether to enter Valhalla is not decided by them."

"Can this destroy Valhalla?" Marika raised the spear. This red spear is called [This is the Fire of Ignition of the World].

"It can't be done. It's just a failed prototype." The dwarf Hawkins' tone was very indifferent, and he didn't even want to look at the gun.

"You... after losing your body, all you have left is sarcasm?" Marika clenched the spear, and flames danced on the red gun.

She was disappointed, not only because the dwarf Hawkins was always sarcastic and said discouraging words, but more importantly, he gave up the most important thing for dwarves - love.

Dwarves love fire and metal. They can hear the crying of metal, and they will love even the failed products forged by others. But the dwarf Hawkins repeatedly expressed his rejection of his own works, and at the same time stopped hammering and forging weapons.

"And wisdom. As long as we have the wisdom of the dwarves, we can make more powerful weapons." The dwarf Hawkins has long been unable to be shaken by words, so he doesn't care about Marika's words, but his eyes avoid the flames dancing on the red spear.

"There are a lot of Gungnir here that are better than the failed ones in your hand."

"If you really want to do something to Valhalla, use these Gungnir. With these Gungnir, you only need to spend some time to capture Valhalla."

"I will think of other ways."

Marika turned and left the headless dwarf workshop, and the dwarf Hawkins turned and looked at the furnace burning with flames. This time he didn't even have the courage to reach out and touch it.

In the workshop, the headless dwarf was stiff and forging weapons non-stop. The dwarf Hawkins didn't know whether to envy or be thankful.

After losing his head, he can still use the dwarf's body to forge weapons, but the forging is to deprive of individuality and produce them one by one. But he only had a head and wisdom, and without the body of a dwarf, he could not create anything.

He could no longer feel the warmth of life bursting out of the flame, nor could he knock out the clang of life being born.

As a result, he had no idea whether it was lucky or unfortunate to survive.

Obviously, if someone inherited the wisdom of the dwarf, he could end his life and no longer be confused.