Lancelot couldn't help but be utterly shocked; the fate of the faithless was too grim. He should never die, at least not in this universe.
"If you haven't decided which goddess to believe in, there's no need to worry too much." Seeing Lancelot's uneasy expression, Alamir spoke to comfort him, "It's enough to have mentioned the name of a goddess at any time. Have you ever expressed gratitude to the Goddess of Luck, Tamora, during your lucky moments? Or, having spent time with the Dwarves, have you occasionally said things like 'By Moradin's beard'? These acts won't get you into heaven, but they are enough to get a Divine Envoy to 'fish' you out of the Stygian River. You will be deemed a nominal believer and reincarnated, provided, of course, that you've committed no sins that merit damnation in Barto Hell…"
"Well, I can still manage that," Lancelot shrugged. "Had no idea there were so many secrets about the soul…"
