Hogwarts Raven

Chapter 343, Section 342: Ian's True Authority.

The night is dark.

The candlelight flickered inside the barn.

The wizards were utterly stunned. All of them froze on the spot, their breaths caught in their throats. Their eyes were fixed on the figure in the doorway—clad in silver armor, crowned with olive branches, with eyes as deep as the starry sky, radiating a suffocating aura of power.

Athena.

The goddess of wisdom, Athena, has actually descended upon us!

“It’s over…it’s all over…” a young wizard murmured, trembling, his legs going weak and he almost collapsed to his knees.

“She must have come to settle scores…” Another old wizard closed his eyes in despair, his fingers unconsciously gripping the hem of his robe.

The wizards were deathly pale, some even rehearsing their own deaths in their minds—would they be burned to ashes by divine punishment? Turned into stone statues? Or thrown into Tartarus to suffer eternally?
However, just when everyone thought the end of the world had come—Athena's gaze passed over them and landed directly on Ian.

Her voice was soft, yet it reached everyone's ears clearly.

"If you can let me live when Ragnarok comes."

As soon as these words came out.

It was no different from a bomb exploding.

They had assumed they would either die at the hands of the Templar Knights or be punished by Athena. But who could have imagined… that the gods were negotiating with a wizard?!

Dead silence.

Even the sound of breathing disappeared inside the barn.

The wizards stared wide-eyed, almost unable to believe what they were hearing.

Athena… is seeking a deal with Ian. This is a scene they've never imagined in their lives—a true Olympian god has appeared at their secret gathering!
Moreover, she didn't unleash divine punishment, nor did she angrily question him; instead... she wanted to make a deal with the wizard! And it was a deal in which she hoped he would help her save her life!
The gods...are bowing down to mortal wizards?!

"Are you betraying the Olympian gods?" Ian raised an eyebrow slightly, staring at Athena with somewhat surprised eyes, a meaningful smile slowly curving his lips.

He could sense that the other party was very afraid of Ragnarok.

Upon hearing this, Athena remained calm, but her fingertips tightened almost imperceptibly for a moment.

“This is just precautionary planning; I see further than you imagine,” she whispered. “The fall of Olympus is inevitable, and I… just want to live.” Her voice was full of sincerity. She wasn’t there to suppress these wizards, nor to test his strength.

She came here to survive.

The future is set; the gods will eventually fall.

"You are indeed very wise."

Ian smiled.

Then she nodded thoughtfully. In a sense, the future gods had indeed vanished—or rather, at least in his time, Olympus had long since become dust in mythology. If Athena could truly foresee this… then her “wisdom” might be more real than the legends suggest.

“I’m not smart, but I haven’t let fear cloud my thinking,” she said calmly, as if discussing an impending storm.

Rather than a choice that could overturn the entire Olympian order.

Just as the Titans were inevitably replaced by the gods, this goddess of wisdom before us has clearly foreseen a similar ending.

"Many of my brothers and sisters, like my father Zeus, chose to flee and conceal out of fear; they dared not face the truth of Ragnarok."

"That's why you see our desire for control, our fear of wizards—it all stems from Zeus and my brothers and sisters' greed to stop Ragnarok. However, I know very well that Ragnarok will inevitably come, and when that day comes, I don't want to become dust in history."

Athena's voice was full of calm analysis.

Ian nodded in agreement.

He certainly knew what the future held. After a moment's hesitation, Ian's gaze swept over the still shocked and tense wizards before returning to Athena.

“Zeus dislikes wizards,” he said calmly. “Do you dare to defy Zeus?”

Athena chuckled softly.

“Zeus is too busy to take care of himself.” Her voice carried a hint of sarcasm and a touch of weariness. “The souls of the Spartans… are about to crawl out.”

I don't know if Zeus even slept with her, but Athena now not only has no respect for Zeus, but also seems to want him to collapse as soon as possible.

“You truly deserve the name ‘wisdom’,” Ian sighed again, expressing his heartfelt admiration. “At least, you are far wiser than those blindly confident gods.”

He sensed Athena's honesty.

but.

“That Spartan thinks you betrayed her. Don’t you want to stop him from climbing out?” Ian still remembered Kratos’s shout to the sky earlier.

“I was merely being manipulated by Zeus. I left myself some room for error and offered the Spartans help to return. His wrath will only be directed at Zeus.”

Athena spoke as if she had calculated everything perfectly.

"Can he really come back?"

Ian was a little unsure, since according to the story he knew, Kratos needed the help of the Titans imprisoned in the Underworld to return to the world of the living.

however.

He had already killed all the Titans, and the only remaining female Titan, Tantalyr, was a prophetic Titan, so it was unlikely that she would be imprisoned by the gods at this point in time.

If they are imprisoned by the gods.

The female Titan's mission was to save her, not to collect any nectar from the night-blooming cereus. Athena smiled slightly at Ian's curiosity but remained silent.

She simply raised her hand, and a ball of silvery-white light appeared in her palm. As the light spun, it gradually coalesced into an image.

Underworld.

Darkness, chaos, and wailing souls floated and sank in a blood-red river. And in that endless abyss, a familiar figure was climbing upwards step by step.

Kratos.

he died.

He was killed by Zeus himself, stripped of his divine status, and banished to the underworld. Yet, even so, he never truly perished. His soul remained powerful, and his will remained steadfast.

Driven by pure rage and a thirst for revenge, he climbed step by step into the abyss of the underworld. There was no sunlight, no air, only countless vengeful spirits and the whispers of despair, yet he continued forward. His skin was charred black by the flames of the underworld, but his muscles remained as muscular as steel. His hands clung to the cliff face, his nails cracked and bleeding, yet he showed no sign of stopping. Even more terrifying—his eyes burned with a fury more intense than the flames of the underworld.

It was this anger that sustained him as he climbed higher. Here, there was no distinction between day and night, only endless nothingness and wailing. The air was thick with the stench of decay and despair, and the souls of the dead drifted in invisible shackles, uttering low moans. This was the final resting place of the dead, the end of the soul, a place where even time seemed to stand still.

But Kratos refused to accept this outcome.

He was no longer a god of war, nor a god-slayer, but a soul banished to the underworld, having lost his physical body. Yet, even so, he did not yield.

Anger was his only motivation. The souls here had completely lost themselves, becoming part of the River Styx, drifting with the current, never to be reborn.

But Kratos is different.

He still has memories, will, and unfinished revenge.

"I want to return to the human world!"

Kratos stood atop a hill piled high with corpses, beneath which lay countless wailing souls that stretched out their decaying arms, trying to drag him into the abyss of eternity.

"Go away!"

He let out a low growl, and the Chaos Blade slashed down fiercely. Crimson chains wrapped around his arm, and wherever the blade passed, the souls of the dead dissipated like dust. But soon, more souls crawled out of the river of blood, their empty eye sockets staring fixedly at him, emitting piercing screams—the laws of the underworld were rejecting him.

This is where the dead belong.

But it does not welcome a god-slayer filled with endless rage.

They wanted to purify Kratos.

of course.

The laws of the underworld failed. Kratos, too, resisted becoming a mindless, aimless soul. He strode forward, each step heavy as a mountain, the corpses beneath his feet cracking with a sickening sound. His skin was torn by the chilling winds of the underworld, yet his muscles remained taut and steely. The blood seeping from his wounds was evaporated by his burning rage before it could even drip.

"Zeus..."

He whispered the name as if he wanted to chew it up between his teeth.

We crossed a mountain.

Ahead, the River Styx churned, its black waters teeming with countless struggling souls. There were no bridges, no ferries, only endless despair.

Kratos did not hesitate and stepped directly into the river.

"Ahhhh——!"

The waters of the Styx pierced his flesh like a thousand sharp knives, corroding his bones, attempting to dissolve his soul into this eternal torment. But he merely gritted his teeth, the blade of chaos digging deep into the riverbed, dragging his body forward step by step. At the riverbed, countless pale arms gripped his ankles, the spirits of the dead grinning, wanting to drag him into the abyss forever.

"You... dare to stop me?!"

He swung his sword fiercely, the crimson blade severing countless arms, the shrieks of the dead echoing through the River Styx. But the pain did not lessen; the River Styx's corrosive power continued, his flesh began to peel away, revealing his stark white bones.

But he kept going.

step.

Another step.

Until he stepped onto the other side.

The River Styx roared behind him, but could no longer reach him.

Kratos looked down at his arm—a bloody mess, with exposed bone, but flames of rage burned in the wound, and the flesh was regenerating at a visible speed.

“Not fast enough…” he growled, looking up at the higher reaches of the underworld.

There, lies the cliffs of Tartarus—sharp and precipitous, where countless punished Titans are chained to the rock face, their wails echoing like thunder in the abyss.

At the top of the cliff is a crack leading to the human world.

Kratos began climbing again.

His fingers dug into the rock, his nails cracking, and blood flowed down the charred rock face. The eerie winds of the underworld cut into his back like blades, trying to tear him off.

But he just sneered.

"Olympian bastards...do you think you can trap me like this?"

He exerted all his strength, his muscles taut like steel, and dragged his body upwards. The remnants of the chains broke off from him and crashed into the abyss below.

Above, a demonic eagle from the underworld swooped down, its sharp beak aimed straight for his eyes.

Kratos gripped the rock face with one hand, then swiftly reached out with the other, crushing the eagle's throat. Black blood splattered on his face; he licked his lips, his eyes blazing with even greater fury.

"Who else?!"

Kratos is roaring.

On Earth, Ian and Athena watched his feat.

After Kratos died, his soul entered the underworld. Although the Titans did not offer him any help, he managed to climb back to the world of the living step by step on his own.

“This is truly a fucking mess.” Ian’s eyes twitched. Although he roughly understood that this kind of thing was not that unbelievable, and many legendary wizards had the ability to return to the human world from the underworld or illusions, this was the first time he had seen Kratos climb up purely by brute force and anger.

Perhaps it's related to the fact that the Olympian gods created a separate underworld within the realm of illusion, closer to the human world? In any case, Kratos's posture is hard to judge.

The flesh has completely rotted away.

The soul even has the chance to return to the human world and be resurrected—perhaps this is because he carries some kind of mission, to bring Ragnarok to the gods of the human world.

The wizards in the barn were also completely shocked.

They might not know Kratos, but they could feel the savage aura that almost broke through the shadows—a monster that even death could not restrain!

"Mars!"

Many wizards fear Kratos more than Ares.

the reason is simple.

Kratos is far more tyrannical than Ares.

and.

It's incredibly sinister.

"Kratos will inevitably drag Olympus into the abyss. Even if he doesn't target me, I will still be affected." Athena looked at Ian, her voice calm but filled with undeniable certainty.

He hesitated for a moment.

She still spoke up.

"I am seeking your protection."

This is clearly a straightforward request.

boom!
These words struck like a thunderbolt into the hearts of all wizards.

A god… not just wants to make a deal with a wizard… but this deal is actually a plea for protection?! Just how powerful is the mysterious wizard who suddenly appears before them?! Their gazes all turned to Ian, a mixture of awe, fear, worship, disbelief… almost tangible.

Their eyes were filled with awe and fear.

They finally understood why this mysterious wizard dared to challenge the temple head-on, and why he could easily defeat those arrogant priests and knights.

Because this wizard is not merely a powerful wizard. He might be—a being beyond the gods!
"interesting."

In this regard.

Ian, however, paid no attention to their emotions. He simply looked at Athena, his eyes slightly narrowed. Athena, on the other hand, seemed unconcerned about the opinions of the other wizards.

She was eager to make a deal with Ian, even to the point of being impatient.

"You think... I can protect you?"

Ian's tone carried a hint of surprise.

Athena met his gaze, her eyes as deep as the starry sky.

"You just need to speak..."

she whispered.

"I will live."

Athens' voice remained as resolute as ever.

Ian narrowed his eyes slightly.

"You seem more confident than I am?" His tone was unusually confused; he didn't quite understand what information Athena knew about him.

Upon hearing this, Athena's fingertips lightly traced the window frame, the olive wreath gleaming coldly in the moonlight. Outside the window, a withered leaf swirled and landed on the temple steps.

“You are the end of all things, the master of destiny. When you say ‘I will live,’ death will take a detour; when you say ‘I will perish,’ even the river of time will change course.”

"Your words are the will of destiny."

Her voice suddenly became ethereal.

Ian's true appearance was reflected in his pupils—a raven.

(End of this chapter)