Hogwarts Raven

Chapter 350, Page 349: Challenging the Gods

The waters of the River Styx are as black as ink.

Yet it also shimmered with a faint blue phosphorescence.

It was as if countless souls were burning within it.

The river appeared calm on the surface, but beneath the surface, a turbulent undercurrent raged. Countless pale arms emerged from the water, their fingertips rotting and joints jagged, struggling to grasp any passing survivors. On either side of the riverbanks lay a bleak desert, barren of vegetation, except for withered thorns that twisted and grew like snakes drained of their life force.

The sky was devoid of sun, moon, and stars, only a thick layer of gray fog. The eternal twilight shrouded everything like a heavy black veil, completely severing the boundary between life and death.

A damp, chilling atmosphere permeated the air, as if even the souls trembled in this desolate place. Occasionally, a flash of light, like lightning, streaked across the sky, illuminating the floating spirits on the river—their faces contorted, mouths agape in silent agony, as if still enduring the pain of their past lives. This was the underworld of ancient Egypt.

The land of the dead.

Anubis's domain.

Ian stood on the banks of the River Styx, his gaze shifting from the dark waters to the oar in Anubis's hand.

The jet-black oar was covered in ancient hieroglyphic runes, each line seemingly flowing, like living blood vessels. Just looking at it sent a chill down Ian's spine—not the fear of death, but an instinctive wariness of something deeper, more chaotic.

"Lend me a paddle."

Ian grinned, his tone as casual as if he were borrowing a shovel from a neighbor. Ahead, the River Styx meandered through the heart of the underworld, its waters as black as ink, shimmering with a faint blue light, like countless eyes gazing into the abyss. Anubis's golden pupils narrowed slightly, and the jackal's head bowed slightly.

She scrutinized the boy in front of her.

The River Styx flowed silently behind Anubis, yet carried a suffocating sense of oppression. The Styx was merciless; it devoured everything, yet also encompassed everything, just like Anubis himself. Anubis showed no annoyance at the mortal wizard's request, nor did he blame Ian for his offense.

“Good child, everything in this world has its weight, including this oar in my hand.” Anubis’s cold and deep eyes, hidden beneath his mask, stared directly at the boy before him. He showed no anger, nor surprise, only his usual calm and meticulousness, as if he had anticipated this moment.

Anubis spoke slowly, his voice deep and authoritative, "Tell me, is your worth sufficient to win this rare legend among humankind?"

Death's voice was deep and solemn, like the hammer of judgment striking the soul. Of course, the fact that Ian was a legendary wizard could not be hidden from the discernment of a god.

In fact.

Whether it's the soul or the body, the difference between a legendary wizard and an ordinary wizard is huge, even greater than the difference between a wizard and a Muggle. Even some high-level wizards can tell them apart at a glance.

This is certainly not to mention gods who have lived for countless years and are considered advanced life forms. Regardless of whether the beings of ancient Egypt came from beyond the stars, they were undoubtedly a truly advanced life form.

In every aspect, it far surpasses other life forms on Earth.

"What do I need to do?" Ian wasn't an overly domineering person. He would get what he wanted through normal means and wouldn't choose to steal or use other methods.

Ian doesn't just talk about obeying the law.

“Pass the three tests to prove you are qualified to hold it,” Anubis replied calmly, wisps of black mist constantly rising from the oar in his hand.

"Three trials again? It seems you really like the number three," Ian said, slightly surprised. He had just undergone three trials to reach the Underworld.

"Three is special; everything is three."

Anubis responded, his tone carrying an undeniable firmness. His star-like, icy eyes seemed to hold some ancient faith and order.

It seems the ancient Egyptian gods also had their own mystical numbers they firmly believed in. Ian took a deep breath, looked firmly at the god of death, and gave his answer.

"I accept the test."

Ravenclaw students are never afraid of challenges, and even enjoy them, much like Gryffindors' adventurous nature. However, Ravenclaw students are generally well-prepared.

Ian is the same.

He didn't think there was anything in this world that could stump him.

Besides having children.

“Very good, I can sense your courage and confidence.” Anubis nodded slightly, then raised his arm and pointed to the boundless River Styx behind him. “Then cross the river. After crossing, you will face three challenges.”

"First, challenge the heroic spirits of history."

"Second, challenge immortals like yourself in the Wizarding World."

"Third—challenge my will."

“Only by proving yourself strong enough can you be immune to the effects of this oar.” Anubis raised the oar, pointing it towards the opposite bank of the River Styx, his tone even carrying a hint of concern for the living.

Many people say that Anubis, the god of death, is cold and heartless. In reality, unlike the god of death, the god of death only accepts the dead; he possesses a love for the living.

Only such a deity can wield power properly.

"Do I need qualifications to own a paddle?"

Ian looked at the ancient Egyptian gods in surprise. This era might be the peak of the ancient Egyptian gods, but the gods here were not as crazy as the ancient Greek gods.

"Yes."

Anubis nodded slowly, his tone still calm, yet carrying an undeniable power.

“Ferrying souls is not just a journey, but also a process of cleansing past sins.” He slowly raised the oar, allowing Ian to see the black mist flowing among the runes. “This oar has absorbed too much sin and negative emotions. Only a strong enough person can hold it without being devoured.”

The black mist was churning and swirling.

Ian stared at the black mist, and could vaguely hear shrieks and sobs emanating from it. He remained silent for a moment, then finally nodded, accepting the reality.

"Reasonable."

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then his body slowly transformed into a giant raven, its wings spreading wide enough to blot out the sky. Here, he used shapeshifting magic to make himself even larger.

Primarily to intimidate Death before him, his figure circled in the air once before swooping down, transforming into a black lightning bolt and flying towards the other side of the River Styx. The surface of the River Styx began to shimmer with an even more terrifying light once more, as countless souls floated and sank in the water, reaching out their arms in an attempt to grasp at this last glimmer of hope.

Like all drowning people, he desperately grasped at a straw. However, Ian had transformed into a raven, an existence between soul and reality, impervious to all laws between the illusory and the real. Those outstretched hands could not touch his wings, and those wails and cries could not shake his will.

Ravens' wings swept across the gray sky.

The souls in the River Styx reached out frantically, their rotting fingers almost brushing against Ian's feathers.

But they couldn't catch him.

"The ancient Egyptians must have had a really tough time, unlike our dreamlike world in Great Britain. Indeed, our dreamlike world has a much kinder ruler."

“I’m not talking about Death, of course! I’m talking about a certain raven!” Ian looked down, and the scene in the River Styx became even clearer—countless souls were floating, some screaming silently, some wandering aimlessly, and others huddled together, tearing at each other. This was the embodiment of sin, the eternal torment of the unjudged dead.

At first, the floating objects on the river were just ordinary souls, their expressions blank, their eyes empty, their pale arms outstretched, trying to grasp any means of escaping this eternal darkness.

These souls had long lost their reason, left only with instinctive desires and despair. However, as he flew deeper, a different aura began to emerge from the depths of the River Styx—a cold, evil, and obsessive fluctuation.

“Mortals… mortals…” A deep, hoarse voice came from below, filled with seduction and greed.

Ian looked down and saw a semi-transparent soul slowly emerging from the water, wearing a tattered robe and with a blurred face, yet he could feel the oppressive aura that was not that of an ordinary dead soul.

"You have flesh and blood, you have life... why did you come here?" the soul murmured, its voice seemingly carrying some kind of magic, trying to penetrate Ian's consciousness.

Ian did not respond, but instead increased his flight speed.

But the soul refused to give up, leaping suddenly from the water, transforming into a black shadow, and rushing straight at the raven! "Live for me! My knowledge, my magic, my obsession—you can inherit them all!" it roared, its eyes flashing with madness.

Ian stared coldly at it, then flapped his wings and swooped down, his sharp beak slicing fiercely at the soul's head. He knew, of course, that this soul wanted to possess his body.

however.

The other party clearly chose the wrong target.

"boom!"

With a muffled thud, the dark wizard's soul instantly exploded, turning into a wisp of black mist that was swallowed by the River Styx—this was easy, but Ian's test had only just begun.

More shadowy figures emerged from the depths of the River Styx.

Like the soul that tried to bewitch Ian before, they were former wizards, sorcerers who died for sin and betrayal, fallen souls sealed deep within the River Styx. They were unwilling to sink into depravity and longed to return to the mortal realm, and Ian was the perfect vessel for them.

“A wizard…a young wizard…”

A hoarse whisper came from underwater, followed by a withered hand bursting out of the water, its fingertips wreathed in dark magic, reaching straight for the raven's wing!

Ian dodged to the side, his sharp, ravenous eyes locking onto the underwater scene—a gaunt figure draped in a rotting black robe, with eerie green flames flickering in its eye sockets, and a grin revealing gleaming white teeth.

"Give me your body...!" the Black Wizard's soul shrieked, his hands forming a hand seal, and a jet-black chain shot out from the water, heading straight for Ian's throat!
This is a more direct soul.

"Tsk." The raven let out a disdainful cry, flapped its wings, and suddenly soared into the air, dodging the chains as it swooped down—

peck!
The sharp beak pierced the black wizard's forehead like a blade, and the soul's head instantly exploded, turning into a wisp of black smoke and dissipating.

"That's it?"

The raven tilted its head, its tone mocking.

However, this is just the beginning.

The River Styx seemed to be enraged, and more dark wizard souls emerged from its waters—they were all powerful spellcasters in life, and retained some of their magic even after death.

They are even more lucid than ordinary dead souls.

"juvenile……"

A female soul called out softly, her voice as sweet as honey, "Would you like to hear my story? I was once a great witch, betrayed and killed... If you are willing to let me borrow your body to sneak into the human world and be resurrected, I can teach you all magic... You can even have the perfect me as your wife."

This is a honey trap.

However, it was of no use to Ian.

Women will only slow down Ian's learning pace.

Ian didn't stop; he simply flapped his wings and flew even higher.

"You rejected me?" the witch roared, her body instantly twisting into a black snake-like shadow that lunged forward.

Ian's eyes narrowed, and he suddenly swooped down, his sharp beak piercing the soul's brow with pinpoint accuracy.

"boom!"

Another fallen wizard's soul exploded, turning into black mist and dissipating.

Souls rose from the River Styx, some roaring, some whispering, some casting long-decayed magic, attempting to disrupt Ian's mind, and some even launching direct attacks.

"A young body...how vibrant..."

"Let me out...let me return to the world of men!"

Your soul... is mine now!

Ian was no longer the mortal he once was. His raven form was an existence between soul and reality, unbound by the rules of the River Styx, and unaffected by these fallen souls. He moved like a black lightning bolt across the River Styx, each dive accompanied by a burst of soul, each flap of his wings dissipating a cloud of black mist.

His sharp beak became the blade of judgment, mercilessly shattering the souls of the wizards who sought to seize his body.

More than ten minutes later.

He crossed the River Styx.

Like traversing a long corridor of time and fate, soaring through endless darkness and sorrow. Finally, on the rocky shore on the opposite bank, he slowly descended, his wings folding, his body transforming back into human form. Behind him, the River Styx continued to flow in the endless darkness, its waters silent yet seemingly capable of swallowing everything.

But it couldn't devour Ian.

"soon."

Anubis was already there, waiting silently, as if he had never left. He stood on the black stone beach on the other side of the River Styx, his figure as tall and solemn as a shadow, his black robes fluttering slightly in the invisible winds of the underworld. Beneath his mask, his deep eyes, as dark as the night sky, gleamed with a cold light.

Like the pointer of a scale of judgment, it is impartial and unbiased.

"That's a really clever trick."

Anubis looked at Ian, a hint of approval flashing in his eyes.

“Your shapeshifting creature is quite special,” he said slowly, his tone unusually gentle. “It seems you are indeed different from others.”

The ancient Egyptian god of death made a rare comment, seemingly genuinely unaware of the raven. Of course, this ancient Egyptian god of death could distinguish the scent of a raven. Unlike the most generalized god of death, he harbored no animosity towards ravens, and thus felt a sense of familiarity with Ian's shapeshifting creature.

Ian grinned.

"Thank you for the compliment. Can we begin the challenge now?"

He was already prepared.

Anubis did not answer, but simply raised his staff and struck the ground heavily.

Rumble——!
The earth began to tremble.

A deep rumble came from the depths of the earth, as if a long-dormant beast had been awakened. Dust churned, gravel flew, and cracks spread from the surface like a spiderweb in all directions. The outline of the arena gradually emerged from the darkness, initially just a blurry shadow, then becoming clear and enormous.

Huge stone pillars rose one by one from the ground.

Bearing the weight of time, the columns are covered with ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs and mysterious runes, each symbol shimmering with a faint blue light, as if containing the will of ancient gods. These columns surround the central area, gradually forming a massive circular structure.

Like a forgotten temple, emerging from the dust of time—an ancient arena rises from the gray desert, its outer walls slowly rising, towering into the dark sky of the underworld. The walls, built of massive stones, reach into the clouds, their surfaces constructed of obsidian-like stone.

Its surface is smooth as a mirror, yet it exudes a chilling sense of oppression. The corners are carved with countless reliefs depicting the struggles of souls, seemingly recording the fates and ends of challengers throughout history.

As the last piece of foundation was placed, the entire arena exuded a majestic and ancient aura, as if it were not merely a battlefield, but a sanctuary bearing the weight of death and judgment. A heavy atmosphere permeated the air, and even the Nether Wind seemed to be suppressed by this power, remaining still.

The stands were filled with blurry shadows—the souls of those who had died throughout history, watching the battle.

"First test, begin."

Anubis's voice echoed through the arena.

(End of this chapter)