Hogwarts Raven

Chapter 354, Section 353: Battle against Anubis

The air in the arena seemed to freeze for a moment.

The second trial had just ended, the aftershocks of magic still lingering in the air, the dust still settled, the embers still burning. Ian stood on the scorched earth, his silver-white magical armor still clinging to his body, wand gripped tightly in his hand, his gaze calm and resolute.

Anubis stood on the judge's platform, the golden cloak of death fluttering slightly in the invisible wind. His voice was deep and solemn:
"The second round of trials is over. You have defeated one of the greatest sorcerers of ancient Egypt."

He paused, his gaze as deep as an abyss, and slowly said:
"Next, the third trial—a challenge to my will."

However, Ian didn't wait for him to finish speaking. He smiled slightly, his tone relaxed yet carrying an undeniable firmness:
"No, I want to challenge you directly."

The moment those words were spoken, the entire arena seemed to freeze for a moment.

In the stands, the "phantom audience" who had initially supported Heca-Ur instantly erupted in angry boos:

"A madman! He's insane!"

"He actually dares to challenge Death?!"

"Who does he think he is? A god?"

Ian's "virtual audience" erupted in cheers instantly:

"Ian! Ian! Ian!"

He challenges all rules!

"He refuses to accept his fate!"

He's going to challenge God!

Anubis stood still, his eyes slightly narrowed beneath the jackal-headed mask, and remained silent for a moment.

He didn't respond immediately, but silently gazed at Ian, as if scrutinizing a soul about to step into the abyss. Silence spread between them; the ghostly spectators in the arena even forgot to breathe, and the entire space fell into an eerie stillness. After a long while, Death finally spoke.

“Commendable courage.” His voice remained calm, yet held a subtle hint of admiration. “But challenging me will cost you your soul after death.”

Ian chuckled softly, his silver-gray right eye gleaming with confidence.

“No need to think so much.” He raised his wand and gently tapped his temple. “I don’t need to think so much. I will only win, not lose.”

This is Ian's invincible heart.

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an unshakeable conviction.

Anubis paused for a moment, as if weighing something. Then he nodded slowly. Finally, he sighed softly, his tone once again carrying a hint of approval.

"Then so be it."

He raised his scepter and waved it gently.

The structure of the arena began to change drastically.

The previously enclosed space rapidly expanded, the walls receding as if alive, and the ground continuously widening, as if the entire arena was providing ample space for this unprecedented duel. The ground cracked open, revealing ancient magic circles, with golden runes intertwining in the air, as if the entire space was being reshaped.

Rumble——!
The entire arena began to tremble violently. The obsidian floor writhed and stretched as if alive, and the surrounding walls rose higher and higher until they disappeared into the gray sky. The originally limited fighting space had now transformed into a boundless desert, with the outline of pyramids faintly visible in the distance. The sky was shrouded in thick, dark clouds, and occasionally lightning would rip through the sky, illuminating this world of death—clearly, the arena was no longer an arena, but an independent little world.

As Anubis cast his spell, the illusory spectators also transformed. The previously illusory souls now materialized into spirit warriors under Anubis's command. Clad in ancient armor, wielding bronze weapons, their faces solemn, their eyes flickering with eerie green flames. A dense army of undead filled the entire field of vision, an aura of impending doom washing over them—these souls were clearly not merely those lingering in the underworld.

They were part of Anubis's power. Ian's virtual audience, however, appeared minuscule at this moment, occupying only a small area.

"Tsk, home-field advantage, huh?" Ian curled his lip and waved his wand—

“Fictus Spectatores Maxima!” (Phantom Audience - Ultimate Edition)
A silvery-white light emanated from the tip of the wand, instantly enveloping the entire audience.

The next second, countless new "virtual spectators" appeared out of thin air. They were dressed in modern wizard robes, wore glasses, held magical cameras, and there were even young wizards holding glow sticks. Silver-gray magic spread like a tide, and in the blink of an eye, the other half of the desert was also filled with "spectators".

These virtual viewers are no longer just simple human figures.

There are also all sorts of strange creatures—flying pumpkin lanterns, skeletons riding brooms, and even several fire-breathing mechanical dragons that hover in the air, emitting deafening roars.

They stood up in unison and shouted:
"Ian! Ian! Ian!"

"A genius wizard from Hogwarts!"

"Potion Master! Alchemist!"

He changed the world with magic!

Even dragons are shouting in their own language. Here we must mention Ian's linguistic prowess; he has not only learned human languages ​​but also those of other creatures.

Therefore.

His magic is so powerful that it can produce such an effect. If those academically challenged students were to use this magic, they wouldn't be able to create so many realistic virtual viewers.

after all.

The limits of magic are the limits of wizards, and so are the lower limits.

Seeing this scene.

Anubis's jackal mask twitched slightly, and his brows furrowed slightly as well.

"It's unnecessary to waste magic on something like this."

The kind-hearted Grim Reaper reminded Ian not to be so vain.

however.

Ian shrugged.

"I have enough magic, I'm not afraid."

He was at the age where vanity was at its peak; how could he not be? Anubis strode towards the center of the arena, and with each step, the sand beneath his feet solidified into obsidian. His figure gradually grew taller until he reached three meters, golden divine runes flowing across his skin, and the aura of death pressed down on the entire space as if it were a tangible force.

He raised his hand and pointed to the surrounding ghostly spectators.

"Over the years, many have challenged me," Death's voice was calm and cold, "and without exception, they have all remained here."

The undead warriors roared in unison, their voices like the wails of millions of dead souls.

Ian looked around, his gaze sweeping over the distorted faces—priests clad in pharaoh's robes, warriors in Greek armor, and even the spirits of several black-robed wizards, their eyes filled with resentment and bitterness. But these souls, bound by their unwillingness, were ultimately controlled by Anubis.

“These people…” Ian glanced around, his gaze darkening slightly, “are they all people who failed to challenge you?”

Anubis nodded, his tone calm:
"Everyone who challenged me stayed here."

Therefore, they are no longer spectators, but witnesses.

He pointed to the souls.

"I absorbed their will and sealed their souls."

Are you sure you want to become one of them?

Anubis reminded the protagonist once again to think things through, clearly issuing another warning. However, Ian's lips curled up slightly, his eyes revealing unwavering confidence.

"I will not become one of them."

"I will be...the only exception."

Ian's words were arrogant.

Anubis looked at him and remained silent for a long time.

Finally, he slowly nodded:
"So, you've made up your mind."

Death said no more. "That's it."

As Anubis stepped into the arena, the entire space seemed to tremble.

He was no longer a referee, but a participant. He slowly raised his hand, his golden cloak fluttering in the invisible wind, and beneath the jackal-head mask, his deep eyes gleamed with divine light.

"My power is boundless, and the cycle of life and death never ends." Anubis raised his hand, and a huge black scepter appeared from the void—"The Staff of Anka".

At the top of the staff was a gem that flickered with a ghostly blue flame, and the staff was wrapped with countless tiny chains, each chain suspending a miniature soul.

They were wailing silently.

At the same time, a heavy bronze book appeared in his other hand—the "Grimoire of the Dead." The pages turned automatically, and countless incantations flew out from it, swirling around him.

“Ian Kent, you challenge me.”

"The stakes are where your soul will find its home."

Are you sure you want to start?

Ian stood opposite him, wand gripped tightly, his magical armor still fitting snugly, his gaze revealing unwavering determination.

"I am sure."

"And... I won't lose."

Anubis looked at him, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes.

Finally, he slowly nodded:
"Then... the match begins." The arena trembled once more, sandstorms raged, magic and divine power intertwined, as if the entire space awaited this unprecedented duel.

Ian had his wand in his hand and his purse slightly ajar, ready to take out alchemical items at any moment.

One person, one god.

One battle will determine life or death.

The battle is about to begin.

Anubis was the first to make a move.

He neither waved his scepter nor chanted any incantations; he simply took a step forward—

"You shall die."

This was the purest declaration of death, the most direct denial of life by the ruler of the underworld. Words became law; the power of the rules descended instantly. The air around Ian solidified into black shackles, and lines of death spread along his skin, as if to drag him directly into eternal slumber.

In the stands, countless undead warriors roared in unison, offering a hymn of awe to the power of death.

However, Ian laughed.

“Death?” He raised his hand, his silver-grey right eye gleaming. “Sorry, that concept doesn’t apply to me.”

"Paradox Anima!" (The Soul of Paradox)

His very existence suddenly became blurred, and the boundary between life and death twisted around him. The death lines melted away like snowflakes the moment they touched his skin—because he was simultaneously in a superposition of "alive" and "dead," making Anubis's declaration of death logically impossible.

Death's golden pupils contracted slightly.

"The power of divine laws..."

He couldn't recognize this artificial divine authority, but he could sense its immense power. Anubis's scepter struck the ground, and the entire desert suddenly collapsed, transforming into the surging waters of the River Styx. This was no ordinary river; it was a liquid condensed from the memories of countless dead, each drop weighing a ton and capable of corroding the soul.

The river roared toward Ian, but stopped abruptly just before it touched him.

“Time is interesting, isn’t it?” Ian tapped the water with his wand. “Especially when it…goes backward.”

"Tempus Inversus!"

The power of paradox was applied to the magic, and the River Styx began to flow backward against all reason, its waves receding back into the riverbed and even revealing the dried-up riverbed. Even more terrifying, the skeletons that had sunk to the bottom of the river were "resurrecting"—they were reenacting the process of death in reverse, transforming from skeletons into corpses.

Then he became a person on the verge of death.

In the end, he transformed into a complete living person and escaped from the underworld.

"This is truly an incredibly sinister power. If you were to ascend to godhood, you would likely become a god-king." Anubis finally revealed a solemn expression. He raised the Staff of Anka high, and the ghostly blue flames surged forth.

"Duat Restitutio!" (Restoration of the Underworld)

The reversed timeline was forcibly corrected, and the resurrected souls returned to their skeletal state. But at the very moment the rules were reset, Ian suddenly appeared behind Death, his wand pointed directly at Death's heart.

"Entropia Borea!" (The extreme cold of entropy)

An absolute zero silver-white halo erupted, freezing even the rules of the universe. Anubis's black robes formed ice crystals, but the next second, his figure transformed into countless scarabs and vanished, only to reform a hundred meters away.

Death opened the Book of the Dead, and a page engraved with golden scales flew out automatically. The scales quickly expanded to a height of a hundred meters, one end supporting a feather, while the other end revealed the phantom of Ian.

“Weigh your soul.”

This is the most fundamental rule of judgment, from which no being can escape. Ian's phantom began to materialize, and countless fragments of memories were extracted: the corridors of Hogwarts, the explosion in the alchemy laboratory, the confrontation with Zeus... Each fragment materialized as a weight on the scales of justice.

The audience held their breath. When a feather is lighter than a memory, the soul is condemned to the underworld.

But Ian suddenly scratched his temple, pulling out a shimmering silver thread of memory: "You call this?" He grinned slyly. "We'll have to ask it if it agrees first."

The power of paradox continues to exert its influence.

That memory suddenly split and multiplied, transforming into countless contradictory versions: in memory A, he died at the age of three; in memory B, he was never born; in memory C, he had already become a god… The scales swayed violently, and the rules of judgment collapsed due to logical inconsistencies. This was a Schrödinger-like uncertainty destroying the other side's rules.

"An impossible power?"

Anubis finally released the divine realm.

Centered on him, an area of ​​a thousand meters instantly transformed into the afterlife of ancient Egypt: the Eye of Horus appeared in the sky, holy water like molten gold flowed on the ground, and countless mummies crawled out of the sand, chanting verses from the Book of the Dead. This was an absolute realm of death, where any living thing would instantly decay.

Ian opened his arms, and a counter-clockwise vortex of silver-gray light formed:

"Logos Apophis!" (Chaos Logic)

His divine realm was entirely different—it was a space where countless paradoxes materialized—blinding lightning erupted at the boundary between the two divine realms, and the collision of rules caused spiderweb-like cracks to appear in the space. The undead spectators watched in horror as their bodies flickered between "existence" and "non-existence."

As the standoff reached its climax, Anubis suddenly withdrew his scepter. The entire divine realm receded like a tide, and the desert returned to calm.

"Enough." Death's voice was unusually weary. "If this continues, the Underworld will collapse."

Ian also put away his wand, and SilverAsh's right eye gradually dimmed: "So?"

Anubis took the Styx oar from his waist and threw it at Ian:

"You have proven that those who can master the rules can naturally master sin."

The oar shrank to the size of a dagger during flight, landing precisely in Ian's purse. An incredulous commotion erupted from the stands, as the spirits of those who had failed in their attempts let out resentful screams.

Anubis gave Ian one last look.

"Your power does not belong to you, and that is the most terrifying thing."

His vision is quite broad.

As the obsidian ground trembled, the training grounds began to collapse. Ian knew this was a sign of dismissal. He stroked the oar in his purse and responded softly.

"Yes, my power... is plunder."

He revealed the true nature of his legendary story.

(End of this chapter)