radicalducati Chapter 349, Section 348: Anubis
Chapter 349, Section 348: Anubis
Chapter 349, Section 348: Anubis
Seth's whispers echoed in the sandstorm, like roars of defiance, yet were swallowed by the relentless sand. He was trapped deep within that forgotten palace, sealed between time and dust. His anger, his ambition, his pain all transformed into invisible ripples attempting to pierce the curtain of reality and curse Ian.
however.
Ian has already flown far away.
He transformed into a raven, untouched by any curse.
Skimming across the golden sea of sand.
His figure gradually blurred on the horizon, as if he had never existed. His potion pouch was filled with divine alchemical artifacts, as well as manuscripts and documents inscribed with ancient knowledge.
His purpose in entering Set's temple was never to save the gods, but to collect materials, study magic, and expand the boundaries of knowledge.
Seth's roar was destined to go unheard, like a whisper swept away by the wind in the desert, ultimately fading into nothingness. Of course, Ian's journey was not over.
His mission was to collect three items, and he had only collected one so far. Now he needed to travel to the realm of the ancient Egyptian god of the underworld.
He went to "borrow" something—a paddle from the River Styx. Although strictly speaking, Osiris is the ruler of the underworld, Anubis, as the god of death who guards the underworld, also has the authority to control the River Styx.
In ancient Egyptian mythology, the underworld was ruled by Osiris, the judge of the dead and the king of the underworld. But the one truly responsible for the order of the underworld and the guidance of souls was Anubis, the god of death—the god of ferrying souls to the underworld, who held the scales and weighed the hearts of the dead to determine whether they were worthy to enter the underworld.
"To borrow an oar, you naturally need to find a boatman." Ian knew that although Osiris was the ruler of the underworld, Anubis truly controlled artifacts like the Styx oar.
After all, Osiris had long since ascended to a higher level of godhood and no longer personally managed these details. Anubis, as the gatekeeper of the underworld, was the one who truly took charge.
Ok.
How can this not be considered a difference between a civil servant and a contractor? Ian traveled eastward, crossing deserts and wastelands, finally arriving at the Temple of Anubis—an ancient structure standing at the crossroads of life and death. The temple sits in the desert on the west bank of the Nile, its obsidian buildings gleaming coldly in the setting sun.
The temple sits atop a black basalt hill, surrounded by desolate sand dunes and weathered stone pillars. The air is thick with the scents of incense and death, as if even time itself keeps its distance. A colossal jackal head statue, symbolizing Anubis, stands guard at the temple entrance.
The empty eye sockets seemed to stare directly into the soul.
Ian landed in front of the temple, transformed back into human form, straightened his robes, and slowly walked up the stone steps. He made no attempt to conceal his purpose or his identity.
he knows.
His arrival had already been noticed here.
The temple doors slowly opened, and a priest dressed in white robes and wearing a jackal-head mask emerged. He was tall, with piercing eyes.
He exuded a faint aura of divine power.
"Who are you?" the priest's voice was deep and authoritative. "Why have you come to the sanctuary of death?"
Upon hearing this, Ian smiled slightly and said calmly, "I've come to borrow something."
He also tries his best to maintain a sophisticated image.
but.
Due to his limited acting skills, he failed to convey his profound and unfathomable nature to the other party.
"Living person, this is not a place for you."
The priest's voice was low and hoarse, like sandpaper scraping. He wasn't particularly happy about Ian's arrival; on the contrary, he wanted to persuade Ian to leave this place as soon as possible.
Ian smiled slightly.
"I'm going to the River Styx."
He believes in the principle that if others won't give it to you, you should go and get it yourself.
The priest's jackal mask turned slightly, as if he were sizing him up.
"Only the dead can enter the underworld." The priest was silent for a moment, then slowly shook his head: "Only the dead can enter the underworld; the living who set foot there will be cursed."
His brow furrowed slightly.
This wasn't the first time the priest had encountered a wizard like Ian who was curious about the underworld, but he was relatively kind-hearted, so he usually tried to persuade as many as he could.
“I know,” Ian nodded, stating the information he already possessed. “But the River Styx is not entirely unreachable. I know that the Underworld exists within a realm of illusion, a domain defined by the gods. You build walls, set up gates, and establish boundaries within it. All I need is an entrance.”
His argument is based on little-known facts. The illusory realm, a dimension between reality and illusion, is where the gods, relying on their own pantheons, have established their own territories and ruled.
Each side divided up its territory.
Normally, Ian wouldn't be able to directly access the territory occupied by the gods using the ability "I wish to enter," which is why he had to seek the promise.
Ian did not ultimately possess the highest authority in the illusionary realm.
"Um?"
The priest scrutinized him, a complex emotion flickering in his eyes.
"You're very clever," he said. "But clever people often die faster. Throughout history, how many have tried to enter the underworld, and who has ever returned alive?"
The priest clearly knew about the illusionary realm as well.
He offered further advice.
Ian, however, smiled slightly.
"So there's a way to get in?"
He completely ignored the priest's admonitions.
"Why are you so determined to walk down a path of no return? Young wizard, you clearly have a bright future ahead of you." "Go back, living man. Throughout history, no one who enters the underworld has ever returned." The priest remained silent for a moment before shaking his head again. He still valued the talent of a young wizard like Ian.
"You know you can't beat me, and my mind is made up." Ian wasn't threatening him; he was simply stating a fact and showing the priest his determination to go to the underworld.
The priest did see this, but he wasn't annoyed. He simply looked Ian up and down, a hint of regret in his eyes, before slowly asking a question.
"Are you really determined to go?"
He sighed and spoke.
"certainly."
Ian spoke casually, as if they were just discussing what to have for dinner.
"Do you really know what you're doing?" The priest's tone carried a hint of admonition again. "The underworld isn't what you imagine."
It is not a river, a bridge, or a trial ground. It is the end of death, a prison for the soul. Once you enter, there is no turning back; it is not the secret realm you imagine.
This admonition was the priest's last act of kindness.
Seeing Ian nod.
The priest also sighed deeply.
"Those who pass the three trials will be granted the right to enter the underworld." As he spoke, he turned around and made a "follow me" gesture.
Under the guidance of this priest.
Ian walked through the temple's long corridor.
The walls are covered with ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs and totems of the god of death. The air is thick with the scent of incense, as if every step is a path to death. The murals on the walls depict the judgment of the dead—their hearts are weighed on scales, with Anubis watching coldly.
Sirius, wielding his scepter, decides the fate of souls.
Finally, they arrived at the deepest part of the temple.
A massive golden gate stood before them, inlaid with obsidian and gold leaf, and engraved with images of Anubis and the gates of the underworld.
The door was closed tightly.
It looks mysterious and majestic.
Those who enter this gate must undergo three trials: wisdom, courage, and death.
The priest stepped aside.
"If you pass, you will enter the underworld. If you fail—"
He didn't finish speaking, but the meaning was clear.
death.
Ian chuckled. "Sounds pretty fair."
Without hesitation, he pushed open the golden door.
Beyond the door lay endless darkness, with only a single bronze lamp suspended in mid-air, illuminating the path ahead. The air was thick with the stench of decay and death.
It was as if the entire space belonged to another dimension. Ian slowly walked in, and the door behind him closed gently the moment he entered, completely isolating him from the real world. He knew he had embarked on a path of no return, and at the same time, he understood that he was a true wizard, never afraid of the unknown.
Keep walking forward.
The flickering flames illuminated a decaying wooden table. Behind the table sat a gaunt old man, his eyes gouged out, black sand flowing from the empty sockets.
"Living person, what brings you here?"
"Borrow a paddle."
The question-and-answer format is very much in the style of Ancient Dragons, at least in Ian's own opinion. However, the gloomy surroundings might give it a dark Ancient Dragons feel.
"So you came because of greed—very good, you need to answer my questions, living person." The old man's voice seemed to come from the depths of the earth, carrying an aura of decay.
"If you answer incorrectly, your eyes will belong to me." He was like a Ravenclaw door knocker, but with a stake on the question that Ian had to answer.
Ian raised an eyebrow.
"Ask away."
He wasn't afraid of giving the wrong answer.
After all, the worst that can happen is that they simply default on their debt.
The gaunt, scaly old man remained oblivious to the young wizard's thoughts. He merely scrutinized Ian and slowly asked, "What is something that never perishes, yet never existed?"
This is a very philosophical question.
But that didn't stump Ian.
Ian almost burst out laughing, because he was the great philosopher of Hogwarts.
"future."
The answer was almost effortless; it just popped into my head. It was a perfect answer. The old man paused for a moment, then nodded.
"The test of wisdom has been passed."
The flames of the bronze lamp suddenly surged, illuminating the second door—an archway made of piled bones, with a still-beating heart hanging above it.
Stepping through the bone gate, a wave of scorching heat hits you.
"It's so hot." Before Ian was a sea of fire, and in the crimson flames, countless souls twisted and reached out, desperately trying to grab any who stepped in.
"Through the inferno, live on." A deep voice came from within the flames. "If you retreat, you will burn forever."
Ian glanced at the sea of fire and curled his lip.
"this one?"
He pulled a bottle of magic potion from his money bag.
I shook it hard.
"Do you Egyptians have some misunderstanding about 'tests'?" Ian hadn't expected to encounter a tactic Snape had already used here.
For a potions master, this was the test he feared least. The cork popped open, and black mist sprayed out, extinguishing the flames the instant it touched them.
The souls screamed and vanished into wisps of smoke.
The voice in the void was silent for a moment, then reluctantly announced.
"The test of courage has been passed."
This was clearly cheating, but isn't daring to cheat also a kind of courage? Ian passed the test, and the third door emerged from the gray.
It was a pitch-black stone door, its surface carved with struggling human faces.
Ian walked forward.
The stone door opened automatically, revealing a small stone chamber inside. In the center sat a golden coffin, its lid half-open, its interior pitch black.
There was nothing around.
The entire space was so vast that it was impossible to distinguish between the sky and the earth.
"Lie down inside, you're alive."
A voice from the void commanded.
"If you fear death, you will be trapped here forever." Its threat looked imposing, but it did not put any psychological pressure on Ian.
"I'm stuck here for a long time."
Ian walked to the coffin.
I peeked out and took a look.
"You guys cut corners in designing this test." He reached out and tapped the coffin wall. The echo was dull. The coffin was hollow, not a solid one.
There weren't even any runes or decorations added.
"Not even a soft mattress, what a disappointment." Ian couldn't help but complain, genuinely disliking sleeping on a hard bed, but despite that, he still rolled over and lay down.
"Click click click click!~"
As soon as Ian entered the coffin, the entire coffin began to react. With a sound, the lid slowly closed, and darkness swallowed everything.
Ian could see nothing but absolute silence.
Absolute darkness.
Ian's five senses seemed to be enhanced by the coffin; he could feel his heartbeat gradually slowing down, his blood flow decreasing, and his breathing becoming weak.
This is not an illusion.
It was a truly tangible experience—he was "dying".
"Playing tricks." Ian's super intelligence has always been useful. He knows that conquering death is not about accepting it, so he suddenly raised his hand and punched the coffin lid!
boom!
With a deafening explosion, the golden coffin that Ian had sensed death shattered. Ian sat up and found himself standing beside a pitch-black river. The river surface shimmered with an eerie blue phosphorescence, and the opposite bank was shrouded in endless darkness. A dilapidated wooden boat was moored on the bank, and a tall figure stood at its bow.
A dilapidated wooden boat was moored on the shore, and a tall figure stood at its bow—Anubis. The jackal-headed god held an oar, his golden eyes coldly fixed on Ian.
Anubis was larger than expected, over three meters tall, with golden divine markings flowing across his jet-black skin. His jackal head was lifelike, with ghostly fire flickering in his golden pupils, and sharp fangs looming between them. He wore a cloak woven from shrouds of the dead, and the scales of judgment hung between his legs; each finger was adorned with a bone ring inlaid with a scarab beetle.
Most striking was the Styx oar in his hand—a jet-black, gleaming blade covered in ancient hieroglyphic runes, radiating a chilling aura of death. Just looking at it, Ian felt as if his soul were being drawn into it. And this was precisely what the female Tank Lyle needed Ian to find.
It's unclear whether it's related to the spirit of the resurrected bell. Just as Ian was sizing up Anubis, Anubis was also sizing up Ian.
He was not angered by Ian's disrespect.
Legendary shamans have the right to have fair dialogue with the gods.
"Shujin, what brings you here?"
Xiu asked Ian a question. It seems that the gods of ancient Egypt were quite different from the Greek gods like Zeus; the ancient Egyptian gods did not show any surprise or astonishment when they saw Ian.
Anubis didn't even call Ian a raven, nor did he reflect Ian's raven form in his pupils. Perhaps the local gods didn't have any particular connection to ravens.
"I'd like to borrow a paddle, yes, the one you have." Ian grinned, making no attempt to be polite, and reiterated his purpose once again.