Hogwarts Raven

Chapter 355, Section 354: Leaving the Underworld and Heading to Ra's Territory
The air in the arena seemed to freeze for a moment.

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. His breathing was steady, his heartbeat normal, as if he had just experienced not a battle with a god, but a routine magical experiment.

On the other side, Anubis still stood there, his deep eyes silently watching him from beneath the golden jackal-head mask.

The trial is over.

Ian won.

He won this duel with death not through magic, not through strength, but through will, wisdom, and a complete challenge to the rules.

But just as Anubis was about to turn and leave, handing the Styx oar to Ian, Ian suddenly spoke.

Anubis.

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an unusual calmness and composure.

"I must admit one thing."

Anubis stopped in his tracks without turning around, but his golden eyes narrowed slightly.

"My power... is not a paradox."

Ian slowly raised his hand, looked at his palm, and said with a hint of self-mockery in his voice.

"It is merely power that I plundered."

"The paradox is just the power I once plundered. I wasn't born strong; I just... never refuse anything that can make me stronger."

This is Ian's philosophy of spiritual practice.

He paused, his gaze fixed on Anubis's retreating figure. "I don't deny that I'm a raider. I'm just... a raider who knows what he's doing."

Ian was mainly impressed by the other person's attitude, so he also appeared much more sincere. That's just the kind of person he is; when he meets someone sincere, he becomes sincere Ian as well.

The air seemed to freeze at that moment. Anubis did not respond immediately, but slowly turned around, his golden divine eyes staring straight at Ian.

Anubis's golden pupils contracted sharply, and the dim light of the underworld cast shadows of varying depths on his sharp jackal features, making the astonishment on his divine face even more pronounced.

He seemed to see a familiar shadow in Ian's words. Perhaps none of the past challengers had ever so frankly admitted their true nature.

He simply nodded slowly, his golden cloak fluttering gently in the invisible wind.

"Plunder?" The voice of the ancient Egyptian god of death remained steady, but the last syllable carried a barely perceptible tremor, and his eyes showed drastic changes in emotion, revealing what he was thinking.

You say paradoxical theocracy is...

Anubis's voice carried a somewhat enigmatic meaning.

“Stolen.” Ian twirled his wand, a sly glint in his eyes. “Authority seized from a legendary wizard who called himself a new god.”

Honest Ian demonstrated his honesty.

"That guy used to seem like a decent human being, and then he turned himself into a monster." He deliberately spoke of this shocking fact in a nonchalant tone.

This describes what happened in Pompeii. The winds of the underworld suddenly stilled. The phantoms of the undead warriors in the stands began to flicker erratically, some even disintegrating into particles of light—this was the instability of the divine realm caused by the tremor of Anubis's mind. Death's slender fingers unconsciously caressed the holy script inscriptions on the surface of his scepter.

The knuckles are slightly white.

He seemed to have confirmed some kind of guess.

But in the end, he didn't say anything.

Ian observed the other's reaction with great interest. The instant before the words of the Death God had faded, he suddenly felt a gaze transcending time and space—as if countless eyes were simultaneously opening and closing from the depths of the underworld. Anubis clearly sensed it too; he abruptly looked up towards the end of the River Styx, a flicker of wariness flashing in his golden pupils.

Or fear?

"Take it."

"The Styx Oars"

Anubis said in a low voice.

"It bears the sins of billions of souls."

He handed over the oar, his movements slow and solemn, as if handing over a sacred relic not belonging to mortals. It was indeed no ordinary object; it was crafted entirely from obsidian and gold, its surface engraved with ancient hieroglyphic runes, each one seeming to whisper a death incantation. A silver chain was wrapped around the oar's handle.

It seems to connect to the other side of the River Styx.

The obsidian-carved oar was tossed over, its surface still crackling with eerie blue ghostly flames. The moment Ian caught it, a chilling coldness instantly spread from his arm throughout his body.

He can feel it.

It wasn't just ordinary cold; it was the wailing of souls, the curses and resentments left behind by billions of the dead as they floated and sank in the River Styx. The screams of billions of souls poured directly into my mind.

He closed his eyes, sensing the power of the oars.

The cries of drowned infants, the roars of battlefield ghosts, the sophistry of traitors, the prayers of martyrs—countless years of sin transformed into black thorns, spreading wildly along his arms. But just as the thorns were about to pierce his heart, Ian's trials and tribulations stirred, and the light of his soul shone forth, devouring all the negative emotions.

“They…can’t affect me.” Ian was only affected for a brief moment. He opened his eyes, his tone calm, yet carrying a suffocating confidence.

Just as Anubis said, a powerful enough wizard is capable of wielding this artifact.

“Thank you.” Ian suddenly became very polite, even giving a standard mage's bow, since one doesn't usually extend a hand to someone who is being polite. “Your trial was very enlightening.”

That's just polite talk, of course.

Anubis gazed at the contradictory young man—just moments before arrogant and domineering, yet now as polite as a model student. Death's lips twitched almost imperceptibly.

He tapped the ground lightly with his scepter.

“Never again should you lightly set foot in the underworld.” His voice suddenly lowered, and the divine resonance imprinted these words directly onto Ian’s soul. “The true Grim Reaper is wandering. He has gone mad.”

Upon hearing this, Ian's eyes narrowed slightly.

grim Reaper?

crazy?

Ian's fingers, which were gripping the oar, suddenly froze. He remembered what he had witnessed in the hazy echoes of the past, and now it was Anubis's unusual reminder.

really.

The Grim Reaper who embodies rules is not only insane with himself, but also with other life forms. Even the ancient Egyptian gods were wary of him. The gaze he just received may also be related to the Grim Reaper who embodies rules.

"The fuse of Ragnarok" Ian had a gut feeling that the Ragnarok in ancient Egypt was likely a disaster caused by the god of death.

He nodded thoughtfully.

"Thank you for your generosity."

This is yet another expression of gratitude.

The sky of the underworld began to fade, a sign of impending farewell. Ian glanced one last time at the silent Grim Reaper, then suddenly pulled a golden apple from his purse—a parting gift from Greece—and gently placed it on the obsidian floor.

"A return gift."

When he had completely disappeared, Anubis bent down and picked up the golden apple, and found a line of tiny runes inscribed on its peel: "To a worthy adversary."

The ancient Egyptian god of death stroked the inscription and suddenly chuckled softly at the empty underworld.

"They actually gave me a golden apple."

It's unclear why Anubis found this amusing.

At this moment.

With Ian's return.

Ian's figure vanished completely at the edge of the underworld, the gray sky closed again, and the surging waters of the River Styx returned to calm. The arena began to crumble on its own, the obsidian ground receding like the tide, transforming back into an endless desert. The densely packed spectators of the dead also turned into specks of ghostly light with a gentle tap of Anubis's scepter.

Dissipated into the void.

The underworld returned to its former deathly silence.

Anubis remained standing, his golden eyes fixed on the direction Ian had gone, silent. His fingertips gently traced the scarab pattern on his scepter, as if deep in thought. Then, a deep voice echoed from the darkness.

"What exactly is that bird?"

The owner of the voice did not appear; only a blurry black mist slowly gathered beside Anubis, within which a pair of eerie green eyes could be vaguely seen gleaming.

Anubis did not turn around, but simply said:

"You don't know, and I know even less."

The entity within the black mist remained silent for a moment, then let out a low, enigmatic laugh.

"Interesting... the power within him is quite peculiar."

Anubis glanced sideways, a deep light flashing in his golden pupils.

"So special that it would cause the Time Guardian to lose his pocket watch?"

The black mist surged, seemingly fluctuating in response to those words.

“No, it’s not just plunder,” the voice said slowly. “He misunderstood his power… It’s not simple acquisition, but the aggregation and return of extraordinary matter.”

Anubis frowned slightly, and the scarab gem on his scepter shimmered faintly.

“No, it’s not just plunder,” the voice said slowly. “He misunderstood his power… It’s not simple acquisition, but the aggregation and return of extraordinary matter.”

Anubis frowned slightly, and the scarab gem on his scepter shimmered faintly.

You mean...

"Those powers originally belonged to him, but were scattered throughout time and space, and now he is reclaiming them one by one." The voice from the black mist was deep and resonant. "Plunder is merely the surface; reunification is the essence."

Anubis remained silent for a moment, the light in his golden pupils flickering.

“If that’s true…” he murmured, “then his existence might be even older than we imagine.”

The black mist did not respond; it simply dissipated slowly, as if it had never existed.

Anubis remained standing, his gaze distant. The winds of the underworld blew again, stirring up fine dust that brushed against the edge of his black robes. His fingertips tapped lightly on his scepter, producing a crisp sound.

"An aggregater of extraordinary matter...?"

He muttered to himself, then turned and his figure gradually disappeared into the darkness of the underworld. And at the distant end of the River Styx, a pair of eyes belonged to no known god.

It slowly opened its eyes, then quietly closed them again.

……

Ian did not linger in the underworld. After all, it was a special place, different from the dreamlike realm that Ian preferred, so he immediately took his oar and returned to the human world.

Therefore.

Ian was unaware of the conversation deep within the underworld.

He had already been sent away before that—he gradually blurred in the golden light, as if he had been taken away from the underworld by some mysterious force.

The sunlight poured down like molten gold. Ian blinked, adjusting to the sudden brightness. He was standing in the inner sanctum of the Temple of Anubis, facing the priest who had once blocked his way—Ian's unharmed reflection was etched in the priest's wide eyes, and the scarab amulet in the priest's hand clattered to the ground.

"You...you really..." The priest's voice trembled, his wrinkled hands gripping the edge of the altar tightly. Behind him, several young priests were already kneeling on the ground, their foreheads pressed against the earth.

"You...you actually came back?"

His voice trembled, filled with disbelief and astonishment.

Ian looked at him, a slight smile playing on his lips.

“Since I said I would come back, of course I will come back.” He didn’t think there was any danger in going to the underworld, since he could transform into a raven and escape at any time.

This is something that others don't know.

The priest stared at him, his eyes filled with shock and awe. After all, this was the first wizard in history to return to the mortal realm, and he could hardly imagine what the other had encountered in the underworld.

suddenly.

The priest's mind stirred.

It was as if I had received some kind of message.

His expression became even more incredulous.

"You...you challenged Death?"

This was clearly a notification from his superiors, but even though it was information from his own god, the priest still couldn't believe that a wizard could defeat his god.

Even if it's just in a certain aspect, even if it's just opportunism, or even if some underhanded tactics are used, it's still an act of confronting the gods and making the gods acknowledge that the other party has won.

It's incredible.

Looking at the old technician with a look of surprise and uncertainty.

Ian nodded, his tone calm:
Yes. I won.

His words were as casual as if he were talking about something very ordinary. The priest remained silent for a long time before slowly bowing, his tone filled with unprecedented respect.

"Great wizard, please allow me to see you off."

He no longer questioned Ian's identity, nor did he offer any life advice, because he knew that the person before him was no longer someone that could be judged by ordinary people.

"Let's go, I have something else to get." Stepping out of the temple, Ian looked up at the night sky, the moonlight shining on his face, casting a faint silver glow.

He still has unfinished business.

Ian casually straightened his collar, which had been ruffled by the eerie winds of the underworld.

How do I get to the temple of Ra?

He asked the priest a question.

The old priest's Adam's apple bobbed.

They dared not not answer.

They didn't even dare to ask Ian what he was going to do.

"Thirty miles north along the east bank of the Nile," he suddenly fell silent, for the young man before him had transformed into a jet-black raven, its claws still hooked on the oar that should have belonged to the Grim Reaper.

"Wait!" the priest cried out, mustering his courage. "The Temple of Ra is cursed with ninefold darkness."

This statement did not elicit a strong reaction from Ian's raven. It gracefully circled in the air, blinked its scarlet right eye, and suddenly spoke in human language.

"I was just missing a sample of the curse, thanks for reminding me."

As the black wings merged into the blue sky, the old priest's legs gave way, and he knelt on the ground. Soon, Ian disappeared into the horizon; his goal was clear.

Ian, transformed into a raven, swept across the desert, his jet-black wings gleaming metallically in the blazing sunlight. He flew over the spires of temples, through the spice-scented air above the marketplace, and finally arrived below his destination: a shimmering river, bustling merchant ships, and farmers toiling in the fields along its banks.

Everything was bathed in the splendor of ancient Egypt's most prosperous era.

This is a mysterious city in ancient Egypt.

City of God's Blessing.

The city is like a dazzling jewel set on the banks of the Nile. Towering obelisks point to the sky, and the golden domes of palaces and temples gleam under the blazing sun. The streets are teeming with people, the shouts of vendors, the chanting of priests, and the laughter of children blending into a vibrant and bustling scene.

The raven circled once and landed on the roof of a tavern, its sharp eyes scanning the street scene below.

The temple is not far away.

And the fragments of Ra's Eye.

We're still waiting for him to "borrow" it.

(End of this chapter)