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The waters of the River Styx were as black as ink.
Yet, they shimmered with an eerie blue phosphorescence.
It was as if countless souls were burning within it.
The river's surface appeared calm, but violent undercurrents churned beneath it. Countless pale arms stretched out from the water. Their fingertips were rotted, and their joints were bony and jagged. They struggled desperately to seize anything living that passed by. On both sides of the river was a gray, barren wasteland. No grass grew there; only withered thorns twisted upward like snakes drained of all vitality.
There was no sun, moon, or stars in the sky, only a thick layer of gray fog. Eternal twilight hung over everything like a heavy black veil, completely severing the boundary between life and death.
The air was damp and freezing, as if even souls would tremble in this silent land of death. Occasionally, flashes of soul light streaked across the sky like lightning, illuminating the Wailing Souls floating on the river. Their faces were twisted, and their mouths were open in silent screams as if they were still suffering the agony of their lives.
This was the Underworld of ancient Egypt.
The kingdom of the dead.
The domain of Anubis.
Ian stood on the banks of the River Styx, shifting his gaze from the black water to the oar in Anubis's hand.
The oar's jet-black shaft was covered in ancient hieroglyphic spell inscriptions. Each carved line seemed to flow like a living vein. Simply staring at it sent chills up Ian's spine—not from fear of death, but from an instinctive wariness toward something deeper, something more chaotic.
"Lend me the oar."
Ian grinned, his tone casual as if he were borrowing a shovel from a neighbor. Ahead, the River Styx wound through the depths of the Underworld. The water was black as ink, its surface shimmering with dim blue light like countless eyes staring into the abyss.
Anubis's golden pupils narrowed slightly, and the jackal-headed god lowered his head.
He studied the boy before him.
Behind him, the River Styx flowed soundlessly yet carried a suffocating pressure. The Styx was merciless, it devoured and contained everything, much like Anubis himself. In response to the mortal wizard's request, Anubis showed no anger nor rebuked Ian for his audacity.
"Child. Everything in this world has weight. Even the oar in my hand."
His cold, deep eyes beneath the mask stared straight at the young man. He was neither furious nor surprised but rather calm and precise, as always. It was as though he had long foreseen this moment.
Anubis spoke slowly, his voice low and filled with authority.
"Tell me, rare Legendary among humans, does your weight suffice to win it?"
The Death God's voice was solemn and heavy, like a judge's hammer striking the soul. There was no way Ian's status as a Legendary Wizard could be hidden from a god's discernment.
In fact...
The difference between a Legendary Wizard and an ordinary wizard, whether in soul or flesh, was immense, greater even than the difference between a wizard and a Muggle. Even some high-level wizards could recognize it at a glance.
Not to mention a god who had lived for countless years and was a higher life form.
Whether or not the ancient Egyptian beings came from beyond the stars, they were undeniably higher beings.
In every way, they far surpassed all other life on Earth.
"What do I need to do?" Ian wasn't overly domineering. If he could obtain what he wanted through normal means, he wouldn't choose to seize it by force or resort to other methods.
Being law-abiding wasn't just something Ian said for fun.
"Pass three trials and prove you are qualified to hold it."
Anubis answered calmly. As he spoke, strands of black mist continuously seeped out from the oar in his grasp.
"Three trials again? It seems you people really like the number three."
Ian sounded slightly surprised. He had just gone through a threefold trial to reach the Underworld.
"Three is special. All things are three." Anubis replied, his tone firm and unquestionable. There seemed to be some ancient belief and order hidden in his star-cold eyes.
It seemed the gods of ancient Egypt had their own sacred numbers as well.
Ian took a deep breath and looked firmly at the Death God.
"I accept the trials."
Ravenclaw students never feared trials; if anything, they enjoyed them. It was similar to how Gryffindors loved adventure, though Ravenclaws were usually far more prepared.
Ian was no exception.
He didn't believe there was anything in this world that could stump him...
Other than giving birth.
"Very good. I can already sense your courage and confidence."
Anubis nodded slightly, raised an arm, and pointed toward the endless River Styx behind him.
"Then cross the river. After you cross it, you will face three challenges."
"First, challenge the heroic spirits of history."
"Second, challenge a legendary wizard your equal."
Third, challenge my will."
"Only by proving yourself strong enough can you resist the influence of this oar."
Anubis lifted the oar and pointed toward the opposite bank of the Styx. His voice carried a trace of concern for the living.
Many said that Anubis, the god of death, was cold and merciless. But, in truth, unlike Death itself, a god of death merely receives the deceased. They possess love for the living.
Only such a god could truly wield that authority.
"Even holding an oar requires qualification?"
Ian looked at the ancient Egyptian god in surprise. Perhaps this era was the Egyptian pantheon's golden age—these gods were not as berserk as the gods of ancient Greece.
"Yes."
Anubis nodded slowly. His tone was still calm yet carried an undeniable force.
"Ferrying souls is more than just a journey. It is a process of cleansing past sins."
He slowly raised the oar, allowing Ian to see the black mist flowing between the runes.
"This oar has absorbed far too much sin and negative emotion. Only someone strong enough can hold it without being consumed."
The black mist roiled endlessly. Ian stared at it, faintly hearing shrieks and sobbing coming from within. After a moment of silence, he finally nodded, accepting the reality.
"Fair enough."
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Then, his body began to change and transform into a gigantic raven. He had used Transfiguration to make himself even larger, spreading his wings wide enough to blot out the sky.
Mainly to intimidate the Death God before him.
His massive shadow circled the air once, and then he dove sharply, turning into a streak of black lightning as he shot toward the far shore of the River Styx.
The Styx's surface began to glow with an even more terrifying light. Countless souls rose and sank within the water, stretching out their arms and trying to grasp this sliver of hope.
Like all drowning people, they were desperate to clutch at a lifeline.
However, Ian had become a raven, existing between soul and reality, tangible and intangible, immune to all laws.
Those reaching hands could not touch his feathers.
Those wails and sobs could not shake his will.
The raven's wings cut through the gray sky.
The Wailing Souls within the Styx reached out in frenzy, their rotting fingers nearly brushing Ian's plumage.
But they could not seize him.
"The ancient Egyptians really had it rough. Not like our British Twilight Zone. As expected, our Twilight Zone has a much kinder administrator."
"And I'm obviously not talking about the Death God! I mean a certain Raven!"
Ian looked down and saw the scene within the Styx more clearly: countless souls rising and sinking. Some screamed silently, some wandered aimlessly, and some clung together while tearing each other apart.
This was sin made manifest: The eternal torment of the unjudged dead.
At first, only ordinary Wailing Souls floated on the river's surface. Their expressions were dull, and their eyes were hollow as they stretched out their pale arms, trying to grasp onto anything that might allow them to escape this eternal darkness.
These souls had long since lost their sanity, leaving behind only instinctive longing and despair. However, as Ian flew deeper, a different aura began to emerge from the depths of the River Styx, an icy, evil fluctuation filled with obsession and malice.
"Mortal... mortal..."
A low, hoarse voice rose from below, carrying temptation and greed.
Ian lowered his gaze and saw a half-transparent soul slowly rise from the water. The soul wore tattered robes and had an indistinct face, yet its presence was clearly not that of an ordinary Wailing Soul.
"You have flesh. You have life. Why have you come here?" the soul murmured softly. Its voice seemed to contain a strange magical power that attempted to seep into Ian's consciousness.
Ian did not respond. He only increased his flying speed.
But the soul refused to give up. Suddenly, it leapt from the water and transformed into a black shadow, lunging straight toward the raven.
"Live on for me! My knowledge, my magic, my obsession—you can inherit it all!"
It roared, berserk light flickering in its eyes.
Ian stared at it coldly. With a powerful flap of his wings, he dove downward sharply. His beak was like a blade as he viciously pecked toward the soul's head. He knew this soul was trying to possess his body.
However, it had clearly chosen the wrong target.
Bang!
With a dull explosion, the dark wizard's soul shattered and turned into a wisp of black mist, which was then swallowed by the River Styx.
It was easy.
But Ian's true trial had only just begun.
More black shadows surfaced from the depths of the river.
Just like the soul that had tried to tempt Ian earlier, these were once wizards, sorcerers who had died in sin and betrayal, Fallen souls sealed in the deepest part of the Styx. They were unwilling to sink into oblivion. They yearned to return to the Human Realm, and Ian was the perfect vessel.
"Wizard… young wizard…"
A raspy whisper rose from beneath the water. Immediately after, a shriveled hand burst through the surface, its fingertips wrapped in pitch-black magic. It grabbed straight for the raven's wing!
Ian twisted his body and dodged. His sharp raven eyes locked onto the figure beneath the water, a skeletal shadow cloaked in a rotting black robe with ghostly green flames flickering inside its eye sockets. It grinned widely, revealing bone-white teeth.
"Give me... your body!"
The dark wizard's soul shrieked. Its hands formed seals, and a black chain shot out from the water, whipping toward Ian's throat.
This was a more direct soul.
"Tsk."
The raven let out a disdainful cry. With one flap of its wings, the raven's body shot upward, evading the chain. At the same time, it dove straight down.
Peck!
Its sharp beak pierced the dark wizard's forehead like a dagger. His head exploded instantly, dispersing into a wisp of black smoke.
"That's it?"
The raven tilted its head, its tone full of mockery.
But this was only the beginning.
The River Styx seemed enraged. More dark wizard souls surfaced from the water, each once a powerful spellcaster, retaining fragments of magical power even after death.
They were more conscious than ordinary Wailing Souls.
"Boy..."
A female soul called softly, her voice sweet like honey.
"Would you like to hear my story? I was once a great witch who was betrayed and killed. If you lend me your body so I can enter the Human Realm and be reborn, I will teach you all my magic, and you can have me as your wife."
It was a honey trap.
But to Ian, it was completely useless.
Women would only slow down his learning.
Ian did not stop. He flapped his wings and flew even higher.
"You reject me?!"
The witch roared. Her form twisted instantly and turned into a black, serpentine shadow that lunged straight at him.
Ian's eyes sharpened. He dove downward like an arrow, accurately piercing the soul's forehead with his beak.
Bang!
Another fallen wizard's soul burst apart and dissolved into black mist.
One soul after another rose from the River Styx.
Some roared, some whispered, and some cast rotten, decayed magic, trying to disturb Ian's mind or attack him directly.
"A young body... so vibrant..."
"Let me out! Let me return to the Human Realm!"
"Your soul belongs to me!"
Ian was no longer an ordinary mortal. His raven form existed between soul and reality; he was not bound by the rules of the Styx, nor was he affected by the influence of these fallen souls.
He moved like a streak of black lightning above the river. Every dive was accompanied by the explosion of a soul. Every flap of his wings scattered black mist into nothingness.
His sharp beak became a merciless blade of judgment, shattering the souls of wizards who dared covet his body.
Ten minutes later, he crossed the River Styx.
It was like passing through a corridor of time and fate, flying beyond endless darkness and sorrow. Finally, he descended onto the rocky shore on the opposite side. He folded his wings in and transformed back into human form.
The River Styx flowed endlessly through the darkness behind him. Though silent, its waters seemed capable of devouring everything.
But they could not devour Ian.
"Fast."
Anubis was already waiting, standing quietly as if he had never left. He stood on the black stone shore of the Styx's far side, his figure tall and solemn, like a shadow. His black robes fluttered slightly in the unseen winds of the Underworld.
Beneath his mask, his eyes, deep as the night sky, gleamed with a cold, stern light. They were like the pointer of a scale of judgment, impartial and unwavering.
"A clever method indeed."
Anubis looked at Ian, and a trace of approval flashed through his eyes.
"Your transformed creature is very special," he said slowly, his tone carrying a rare warmth. "It seems you truly are different."
The ancient Egyptian god of the dead gave an unusually direct evaluation, as if he genuinely did not recognize the raven. Of course, he could still distinguish the Raven's aura.
Ian was not the same as the generic concept of a death god, and Anubis held no hostility toward him. Instead, Ian's transformation made Anubis feel an odd sense of familiarity.
Ian grinned.
"Thanks for the compliment. Can we start the challenge now?"
He was already prepared.
Anubis did not answer. He simply raised his staff and struck the ground heavily.
Hōng Lóng Lóng!
The earth began to tremble.
A deep rumbling rose from beneath the ground as if an ancient beast had been awakened from its slumber. Dust billowed, stones flew, and cracks spread across the surface like a spiderweb, extending in all directions.
The outline of an arena gradually emerged from the darkness, first only a vague shadow, then growing clearer and more massive.
Gigantic stone pillars rose one by one from the ground.
They bore the weight of the ages. Their surfaces were adorned with ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs and mysterious runes. Each symbol flickered with a dim blue light, as if containing the will of gods from an even more ancient era.
The pillars encircled the central area, gradually forming a massive, circular structure.
It was like a forgotten temple tearing itself free from the dust of time.
An ancient coliseum rose from the gray wasteland. Its outer walls slowly lifted, towering into the dim canopy of the Underworld. Huge ramparts of stone blocks stretched upward like mountains, constructed from obsidian-like black rock.
Though smooth as a mirror, the surface radiated a suffocating sense of oppression.
At the corners were countless relief carvings depicting struggling souls, as if recording the fates of challengers throughout history.
When the final foundation piece slid into place, the entire arena emitted an ancient, majestic aura, as if it were not merely a battlefield but a sacred hall of death and judgment.
The air grew heavy, so heavy that even the Underworld wind seemed suppressed into stillness.
The stands were filled with blurry shadows, the souls of the dead who had come to watch.
"The first trial begins." Anubis's voice echoed throughout the coliseum.
(End of Chapter)