"I want to board the ship."
A voice echoed across the dark wooden dock, its surface glistening under the dim light of a few torches placed along the path.
Carrying a backpack I had just taken from my spatial ring, I spoke to the sailor in front of me—or rather, to someone dressed like one, wearing a blue hooded cloak that completely hid his face.
I'd probably die if I ever saw what's underneath that hood.
Of course, I already knew what he looked like. Calling him ugly would be far too kind.
And the reason I knew that… was because this entire scene came straight from my own novel. As the author, I obviously remembered it well—especially since it was one of the parts I liked the most and paid special attention to. Though, in the original story, this event was supposed to happen much later.
This was supposed to be how the main characters discovered the Fourth Descender.But I already knew that.
Still, I had no choice. If I didn't come here now, I'd die.Or rather—I wouldn't die, exactly…
My gray, hole-ridden arm trembled uncontrollably. I had to grab it with my other hand just to make it stop.
"…Please present your pass, proof of identity, or payment…"The shady sailor's voice rasped through the air.
"Here."I tossed him a pouch filled with gold coins. I didn't care whether I overpaid; it was practically everything I had left anyway.
"…Just enough…" the sailor muttered, catching the pouch before tossing it to another crewman aboard the ship. Without another word, he turned and walked up the gangway.
Just enough? Just enough for you means all I have, huh?My face twitched. I knew it was obvious, but that didn't stop the irritation from rising.
To board this ship, one must pay an amount equal to the number of souls they had slain—with a conversion rate of one death per thousand coins.
In other words, I was paying to wash away the wandering spirits clinging to me.This place didn't allow deathly energy from outside to enter. Whether I had ghosts following me or not, they would still collect the fee.
Sure, the people I'd killed weren't exactly good, but not entirely evil either.So I guess this was my way of paying off my sins—though I'd still be carrying that karma once I left.
'If this kind of cleansing method existed in the outside world, nobles, tycoons, and the so-called highborn would shine brighter than the sun itself.'I couldn't help but think.
I looked up at the colossal ship before me—its hull carved from a deep black wood of unknown origin, its crimson sails glowing eerily against the gloom.
As I stepped onto the wooden plank leading up, an eerie whisper rose behind me, faint but enough to make even the bravest soul shiver.
I sighed and walked aboard. My face stiffened at the sight on the deck.
Corpses hung from the rails. Some parts of the ship were crusted with dried blood. Bleached skulls were arranged like decorations.
And the crew—those twisted sailors—were reveling in the deathly aura seeping from it all. After all, that aura was their food. The ship itself generated death energy, feeding them continuously.
The corpses, skulls, and blood that sustained this vessel—were once the sailors themselves.
In other words, they were feasting on their own remains, or something that had once been them.
Taking out a gold coin, I bit into it lightly, then turned to ask one of the sailors where my cabin was. He silently led me away.
'The land of the departed... the Holy Domain of the Dead. I've arrived.'
…
At the farthest end of the black river, a massive ship drifted forward, cutting through the violent current toward the open sea.
In the oppressive darkness—more like a cave than a night sky—I looked down at my silver spatial ring.
'As expected, normal mana doesn't work here.'
This place was drenched in death mana. That made all other types of mana unusable—except for the mana of language.
Which meant the ring was useless now.I'd have to rely on the backpack I'd brought along. Not that I'd need to fight much anyway.
CLANG!
A bell rang out, followed by a fiery arrow streaking toward the ship—and then thousands more lit up the darkness.
A rain of flame.A 'fireworks show,' almost—beautiful, if you ignored the deathly air around it.
But I wasn't worried.This was simply their way of greeting the living—a welcome ceremony, in a sense.
This place didn't forbid the living, but its deathly aura was so heavy that anyone entering without a special body or protection would die instantly.
"We've arrived, honored guest."
Behind me stood a figure in a pitch-black cloak, holding a lantern.
They weren't sailors—they were Spectral Wardens, guardians who maintained order here. Any living being entering this domain would be watched by them.
Looking down from the dock, I was stunned. Beyond it stretched a vast city built in the style of ancient Rome—yet glowing with radiant light.
It didn't look like the land of the dead at all.
I took out a syringe and injected a substance into my arm. My grimace softened slightly as a faint relief washed over me.
Turning back, I slung on my backpack and stepped off the ship.But the moment my feet touched the dock, a wave of nausea surged through me.
"If you have any requests, honored guest, I could—"
"Take me where I need to go, guide."
I tossed him the bitten coin, then pulled out a cigarette and lit it.
'No mana. No healing potions. No tools to slow it down. Guess I'll need to find something new to dull the pain'.
I glanced down at my right arm—it had stopped trembling long ago, but the truth was, it was rotting. Flesh eaten away to the bone.Even with everything I'd tried, the pain refused to fade.
Then, suddenly, several ghostly figures gathered around me, like guards encircling a prisoner.Unlike the others, these weren't in black—they wore vivid, colorful robes.
"…I have a way to ease your condition until you reach your destination, honored one."
The Spectral Warden clearly knew where I was going.There was only one place a living being like me could go in this city—and he knew what I needed.
"What way?" I rasped. My words came out as mist, not sound.
"Devour your own 'Black Heaven's Core,' honored guest."
I froze, pain tightening my chest, but I still asked—though deep down, I already knew what he meant.
Absorb death mana… like the protagonist once did? But I'm not him. Is he trying to teach me that?
Before I could think further, something strange appeared before me—a corridor.
A hallway I had seen once before.
Fading Corridor—that was its name, if what the blonde overseer had told me was true.
But in the next instant, it vanished—like a fleeting memory slipping away as you tried to recall it.
"What is—"
Before I could finish, something struck me down.My last sight was the black cloth of the Warden's cloak.
He raised the lantern high and whispered,
"A man must descend into his own soul to mend what lies within, O blind wanderer in the mist."
"Khak… urgh—"
From my mouth poured a golden iris—an eyeball with a shining pupil—followed by hundreds of writhing maggots.