The stranger didn't answer—he just started walking towards them, and they all backed up instinctively. They could have easily tried to flee, but this man hadn't attacked yet. If he wanted to kill them, then they wouldn't stand a chance if they tried to run away.

The man stopped at the edge of the circle that Ray's corpse was still laying in, almost like he'd placed it there on purpose. It took a minute before he spoke again; his voice was deep, echoing in a way that made it seem like it came from a bottomless pit.

"You've not heard of me," the man said. “My name is Death."

***

"This is madness," Sophie growled angrily as she watched the strange man move across the ground towards her party. "What the hell did we do to deserve this?!"

Lance shook his head slowly as he looked down at the body of his new acquantaince: it was still not obvious now what had happened. The knife stuck out of Ray's chest perfectly, straight from the front and slightly angled downward as though someone had plunged it into him through his heart.

But nobody had seen the robed man move.

"Death?" Lance asked. "That's an awfully pretentious name."

He used [Assess], pouring enough mana into it that he was sure it must have a booster of at least +3 or +4, and yet--

[Assess failed!]

[Mana required for successful Assess: ]

"What the hell?" Jacob yelled angrily.

"I see you like to play games," the man who called himself Death said without moving his mouth—and he was suddenly standing right next to them all. "Let me teach you how this one is played."

A chill ran up Lance's spine as Death's voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere else entirely; no longer did Death look human to Lance as his eyes turned into dark voids as they stared down at the group. His skin looked pale and grey, almost like it was made out of stone instead of flesh; his body seemed impossibly thin, too tall and lanky to be real. It was as though he'd been carved out of the very earth itself by some god or another.

Death told them all calmly.

Wait. He hadn't said that aloud. The way he'd done that was awfully familiar...

"Do you have connections with the voice that's been speaking to us?" Sophie asked, apparently thinking the same things that Lance was. She stepped forward—or tried to—but her feet refused to move: she stumbled, unable to go any farther than two steps before falling back down to the ground.

"The voice that spoke to you is no mere illusion," Death said, still not moving his mouth, even though his lips were now moving like they should be. "It is an aspect of reality, and it is always listening for those who might need its help."

"So you do know about it," Lance said.

"Know about it?" the man-named-Death laughed. "I am one of its messengers."

Lance felt himself grow cold as Death continued talking. Something had changed; he couldn't put his finger on what it was yet, but something was off. It took him longer than normal to understand what Death was saying—but he finally realized that there was a difference between hearing someone speak normally and being forced to listen as if by telepathy. There was a certain detachment from the rest of the world that made this so much worse; he could hear Death's words perfectly, but they seemed like they'd come from somewhere else, somewhere far away where he was.

And with them came a terrible realization.

"You killed Ray because he was too weak," Lance whispered. "Are you going to do the same to us?"

Death smiled again. "Of course not."

"Then why are we even here?" Jacob asked angrily. "We haven't done anything to you! Why won't you leave us alone?"

"Your actions have consequences," Death said. "They must be paid."

Lance thought.

"It is," Death said. "If you stay weak, stay irritating, then you will be next."

And with that, he disappeared as suddenly as he had come.