The Bell Tolls After a Thousand Years
Too much time had passed, Carius.
He had been the protagonist of this world. The undefeated hero. The man who stood at the center of countless heroes.
And then—
Carius… is dead?
Juhan had only ever been wary of that one human being.
That can’t be.
His first reaction was naturally doubt. The more he thought about it, the more inconsistencies piled up.
Now that I think about it, Carius always said he wanted to live in the South.
The South, where the seasons were warm year-round and gentle breezes blew constantly.
In one old episode, Carius had stopped there briefly. The memory must have left a deep impression, because afterward he would always say the same thing, like a habit.
“Once all this fighting is over, I want to spend the rest of my life in the South.”
Exactly like that.
Yet that same Carius had settled in the North and even founded a family? In the North, with its notoriously miserable weather?
What in the world had happened after the novel’s ending to make him choose to settle there? He hadn’t possessed some goal he needed to achieve even if it meant staking the rest of his life on it.
It couldn’t have been because of me.
A moment ago his mind had frozen from shock and led him to the wrong conclusion, but thinking it over again, that was impossible.
As he always reminded himself, Juhan had never once revealed his presence.
“Wipe over there, and that spot too.”
“…Yes.”
Swish. Swish.
It was only information gleaned from a short conversation, yet none of it carried any credibility. Everything was simply too difficult to believe.
Fine. Let’s assume it’s true for now.
Yes. In the one-in-a-million chance. After countless concessions.
Even if, for some unknown reason, Carius had lost his mind and decided to settle in the North, Juhan could accept it up to that point.
Carius was the type who always kept his word, but he was still only human. It was possible for his thoughts to change over time.
What was far harder to swallow came next.
“Carius has been dead for… over a thousand years, you said?”
“You keep stating the obvious. Ah, there’s still a bit of soup here.”
Scrub. Scrub.
The claim that Carius had already been dead for more than a thousand years.
Which ultimately meant…
I’ve been hiding inside that space for over a thousand years?
It lined up perfectly with the idea that Juhan had remained concealed in that isolated space for over a millennium.
No matter how I look at it, this is impossible.
He had expected a fair amount of time to have passed. Even if it turned out to be close to ten years, he had been ready to accept it with a simple Well, that makes sense.
But a thousand years?
“There’s no more free soup. You spilled it, so it’s your own fault. If you want another bowl, throw in one more fairy tale.”
“……”
Honestly, he wanted to grab the innkeeper by the collar, yank him up from his seat, and shout, “Tell me the truth and I’ll spare your life.”
“Haaam… Why am I so tired today?”
Of course, the innkeeper didn’t seem to be lying. When Juhan glanced sideways at the man’s face while wiping the spilled soup, his expression remained exactly the same as when they had first met.
It simply felt like he was stating plain facts. There was no emotional disturbance at all.
Then let’s try thinking about it the other way around.
That was why Juhan decided to reverse his approach. Until now he had focused on the assumption that the innkeeper’s words were false. This time, he would assume they were all true.
First, the historical accuracy of the clothing didn’t match at all.
The very first thing that came to mind was the clothes. From the guard he met before entering the village, to the clothing shop owner, to the people walking down the street—everyone had looked at Juhan strangely. They had called his outfit weird, old-fashioned, from a bygone era.
And then there were the coins.
The name of a king he had never heard before: Leopold IV. It was definitely not in Juhan’s knowledge. Even though he had memorized the names of kings from small kingdoms and even all their princes.
There had been many other strange points after that.
The number of guards was far too small if they were truly meant to monitor and suppress something, and their relaxed attitude was so casual it bordered on reckless complacency. Tall buildings stood naturally throughout the streets, completely unlike the novel’s descriptions.
And above all else…
I couldn’t sense any fear in the people.
Their happy expressions, the vibrant energy completely untouched by fear. They were far too peaceful. It was as if they had forgotten the very existence of the demonic cult.
Nowhere could he find the heavy, gloomy atmosphere of a world on the brink of destruction.
Really.
Only after his thoughts reached that point could Juhan begin to accept reality, little by little.
If a thousand years really have passed…
If a millennium had truly gone by since the day he was possessed, then everything made sense.
If he accepted just one fact, every piece fell perfectly into place. The single truth he had struggled to accept.
Only I remained unchanged.
While the entire world transformed over a thousand years, only the person called Juhan had stayed exactly the same.
The moment that realization hit him—
Ha.
Juhan let out a hollow laugh before he could stop himself.
Swish.
He stopped wiping the floor and, without thinking, spoke to the innkeeper.
“Then…”
“Hm?”
The question came out almost like an interrogation, even though the innkeeper had done nothing wrong.
“The Great Catastrophe. Do you happen to know about it?”
“The Great Catastrophe?”
Juhan’s question about whether the man knew of the Great Catastrophe. He could easily guess what the answer would be.
He simply wanted to hear it. Not from his own mind, but from someone else’s mouth.
Snort.
“The Great Catastrophe, huh.”
The innkeeper gave a small laugh, as if mocking him.
In a way, it almost felt like the man was turning the question back on Juhan.
“What are you doing bringing up something straight out of a children’s fairy tale?”
As if asking whether Juhan still believed in such things.
- - - - - -
Thud. Thud.
After leaving the inn, Juhan wandered without direction.
“……”
He needed time to organize his thoughts. His head was such a mess it felt like it might explode.
The first thing that occurred to him was the knowledge from the novel.
So all the information I knew is now completely useless.
The knowledge from the novel had been the source of Juhan’s confidence all this time.
Now it was nothing more than literal garbage—completely worthless.
The novel wiki he had stayed up all night creating. The lessons he had drilled into the dark ones whenever he had the chance. Even the plans he had carefully built while wondering how to blend in with humans without revealing his identity. All of it.
Juhan now knew nothing.
If his identity were suddenly exposed, if something he had created without knowing its origin revealed his true form, or if some powerful being he had never heard of cut his throat—there was nothing he could do about any of it.
“This fucking sucks.”
The curse slipped out before he could stop it.
In truth, he had simply shouted because he couldn’t contain the emotion otherwise. That was the curse that had come out.
It was even more true because he had no intention of returning to that isolated space.
Having already tasted the outside air once, he no longer wanted to go back.
Step. Step.
As Juhan wandered aimlessly, something finally caught his eye.
“A church…”
The first thing he noticed was the tall spire of a church rising high above the surroundings. Before he realized it, he had already arrived at the church entrance.
Bistro Order.
He immediately recognized which religion the church served. A symbol representing the Bistro Order hung at the entrance.
Snort.
Seeing that symbol, Juhan unconsciously let out a small laugh.
So the only things that haven’t changed in a thousand years are you and me…
Honestly, he felt the sudden urge to go inside for no particular reason. Perhaps because it was the only thing that gave him any sense of kinship.
Even though the final boss he had been and the Bistro Order should have stood at complete opposite ends.
“……”
Juhan stood in front of the church for a while, staring blankly at it, when someone approached him.
Step. Step.
“Is this your first time visiting the church?”
“……”
Juhan turned his head toward the person speaking to him.
“You look like you’re carrying a lot of worries.”
There stood an elderly priest smiling with gentle benevolence.
His expression was kind. He asked for nothing and made no demands; he simply continued speaking.
“It is the pride of our Enton Village.”
“Pride?”
“This is the Antonio Church. It may be even older than the village itself.”
Older than the village? It didn’t look that old.
“Huhu.”
“We perform regular maintenance, so little of its original appearance from when it was first built may remain…”
Reading Juhan’s doubt, the priest continued his explanation slowly.
“But isn’t it enough that the hearts of those who built the church back then are passed down?”
“…Only the hearts?”
“And in fact, one object from that time still remains.”
The priest raised his finger and pointed at the large bell hanging at the top of the church.
“It is said that bell was created even before the church was built.”
The priest claimed the bell predated the church itself.
“That bell was once the focal point that gathered people. The bell came first, then the church was built, and the village formed around them…”
Even so, the questions in Juhan’s mind remained unanswered. What role had the bell played to become a focal point that gathered people? The answer came soon enough.
“In the distant past. In the era when the hero Carius lived.”
“……”
“It is said that a monster called the Great Catastrophe existed back then. Of course, no one ever actually saw it…”
The sudden mention of both Juhan’s and Carius’s names. Perhaps because he hadn’t expected it, Juhan simply stared at the priest, silently urging him to continue.
And what the priest said next was—
“And that bell is said to detect the Great Catastrophe.”
The unbelievable claim that the bell could sense the Great Catastrophe.
The priest himself didn’t seem particularly invested in the story. He appeared to be speaking only of its symbolic meaning.
At those words, Juhan unconsciously tilted his head back to look up at the bell.
“In all my years as a priest, I have never once seen it ring.”
Once again, Juhan offered no reply. He simply kept staring at the bell.
But there was no change. Just as the priest had said, it remained exactly as it had for his entire life—hanging there silently.
“……”
Before long, Juhan lost interest. He lowered his head, preparing to pull his gaze away from the bell.
Creeeeak… Creak…
“…What?”
If not for the ear-piercing sound that suddenly came from the bell hanging atop the spire.
Creeeak…
It sounded as if it were trying to ring. Though rusted and on the verge of falling apart, it seemed determined to fulfill its duty.
Little by little, the bell was clearly beginning to move.
“No way.”
The priest’s face was already colored with shock.
He had clearly thought of it as nothing more than a decorative object or symbol. His expression said exactly that.
And as if to mock the priest’s thoughts—
The bell rang powerfully, more forcefully than any bell Juhan had ever heard.
It was as if it were desperately trying to announce to the world that something had descended.