Hogwarts Raven

Chapter 361: The End of Ancient Egypt?
The night was as dark as ink, enveloping Memphis.

The daytime hustle and bustle has long since faded, the streets are empty and silent, even the wind seems suppressed by some invisible force, afraid to make a sound. Only the sound of the Nile River flows low in the distance, like the pulse of the earth.

However, within this deathly silence, the darkness is not still.

The shadowy figures emerging from the Temple of the Sun God are moving, hunting.

Before an abandoned shrine in the west of the city, a boy of about ten years old shivered. He was thinly dressed and his face was covered in dirt; he was clearly an abandoned orphan.

He had planned to hide under the shrine for the night and then go find food at dawn.

But he didn't know that he was being watched.

To cover up a family scandal, a businessman deliberately abandoned the child on this secluded path leading to the temple, thinking, "Anyway, quite a few people have gone missing recently, one more won't make a difference."

The night wind howled, and the brazier in front of the shrine had long since gone out.

Suddenly, the shadows on the ground began to distort.

One, two, three... several dark figures converged from all directions, like hyenas that had smelled blood.

The boy curled up in terror, wanting to run away, but his legs were too weak to move.

"Don't... don't come here!"

The shadow showed no mercy.

They pounced at the same time, surrounding the boy completely.

The light of life was forcibly extracted from his body, transforming into several thin streams that merged into the shadows. The boy's cries grew weaker and weaker, finally turning into a sob and disappearing completely. The shadows merged together, forming an even larger shadow, like a flowing blob of ink, rapidly drifting towards the temple.

The priests knelt outside the formation, their expressions solemn, chanting ancient incantations.

Just then, the first dark shadow surged in from the ventilation opening at the top of the secret chamber, transforming into a beam of blood-red light and merging into the embryo.

The embryo's glow intensified slightly.

Immediately afterwards, a second and a third dark figure arrived in succession, each carrying a wisp of life essence.

The embryo's pulsation grew stronger, and its halo changed from pale gold to crimson, like a sun about to awaken.

The priests' chanting grew louder and louder.

"Using blood as the catalyst, souls as the sacrifice, and lives as the fuel..."

"Awaken the sleeping god, restore the lord of light..."

"O Ra, please lend me this new body and return to the world!"

Cracks began to appear on the surface of the embryo, not from breaking, but from signs of growth. Its shape gradually became clearer, limbs took shape, and facial features emerged, bearing a striking resemblance to the legendary statue of Ra.

A faint yet pure divine aura began to permeate the secret chamber—clearly, upon hearing their words, Ian had a general idea of ​​what they were doing.

at the same time.

Those shadowy figures that have yet to hunt down a life continue their actions.

Deep in a narrow alley in the east of the city, a drunkard huddled in a corner, clutching an empty earthenware wine jug in his arms. He had a full beard, wore tattered clothes, and mumbled an old fisherman's song.

"The sun rises... God bless... hiccup—"

His eyes were blurry with drunkenness, and he didn't notice at all that the shadow at the alley entrance was slowly creeping up and down.

A dark shadow emerged silently from the darkness in the corner, as if formed from condensed smoke. It had no face, no limbs, just a twisted, eerily glowing outline, as if a piece torn from the underworld.

It slowly approached the drunkard.

The drunkard seemed to sense something, and suddenly looked up, his eyes filled with terror.

"Who...who's there?"

The shadowy figure did not answer.

It pounced down suddenly, like a giant maw, engulfing the drunkard entirely.

A short, agonizing scream pierced the night sky, then abruptly ceased.

The shadowy figure began to "absorb"—not the flesh, but the life force of the man. Wisps of pale golden light spilled from the drunkard's mouth and nose, only to be absorbed by the shadowy figure.

A few breaths later, the drunkard's body withered like a dead tree, his skin ashen, his eyes vacant, and he was dead. The dark shadow slowly retreated, its form becoming more solid, with a faint bloody glow emanating from its edges.

Without stopping, it turned and disappeared into the darkness, speeding towards the temple.

The same thing is happening elsewhere. Even though city dwellers know it's dangerous at night, there are always some unlucky souls who get stuck in the darkness for various reasons.

Among them, alcoholics are the most common.

This is quite normal. After all, with a large population in a city, there will always be a few people who are too careless. Just like in a big forest, there are all kinds of birds.

In the back alley of the "Golden Dates" tavern on the banks of the Nile, shards of earthenware and remnants of palm wine gleamed stickily in the moonlight. The portly brewer, Taka, lay sprawled beside a pile of garbage.

He was still clutching the half-empty double-eared bottle in his hand.

He had just been arguing with the bartender about whose beer was better, and ended up being thrown out the back door by a few equally drunk guys. They probably didn't mean to hurt him, but they hurt him anyway.

“You damned bastard!” Taka, drunk, raised his bottle to the moon. “Wait till I become the guild master…” The brewer suddenly shivered. He turned his head sluggishly, just in time to see the shadow unfold like silk. The sound of the bottle shattering was drowned out by the sucking sounds of the shadow enveloping his head.

Taka's obese body convulsed violently, and the layer of fat under his skin collapsed like melted wax.

Ten seconds later, only a skeleton covered in human skin and three plump, oily black figures remained in the alley. Satisfied, they trembled and slid towards the temple.

This is a nighttime hunting feast.

It is also a source of fear for the city's residents.

of course.

As everyone tacitly acknowledges the city's sinister situation, aside from a few unlucky individuals who are caught off guard, there are also some ruthless people who use this opportunity to carry out perfect murders and crimes—after all, everyone knows that the temples completely turn a blind eye to this kind of shadowy hunting of the people.

Nobody will care about things like this.

This creates fertile ground for crime and murder—in the White Stone Villa in the aristocratic district, a butler wearing a gold necklace is directing two burly men to throw sacks onto the street.

“The lady said,” the butler flicked non-existent dust off his linen robe, “that since this girl dared to seduce the young master, let her see what Memphis is like at night.”

The struggles inside the sack gradually weakened. As the footsteps faded into the distance, the sixteen-year-old textile slave finally managed to open the sack. Her terrified eyes reflected the entire avenue of nobles—sacks like these were piled up in front of every villa, some still wriggling, others already silent.

The dark shadows were overflowing from the drain. Like black water at high tide, they slowly but irresistibly engulfed every sack. As the female slave desperately retreated, her back bumped into something cold. She turned her head stiffly and saw the young master and his wife admiring the scene from the second-floor terrace of the villa, holding glass glasses. Beneath the malachite powder on her eyelids, the lady's eyes shone with an unnatural brilliance.

"Mother, can this really guarantee our family's safety?"

"The more offerings we make, the more the new god will favor us."

The slave girl's last questions were silenced forever as the shadowy figure poured into her seven orifices. Between her withered fingers, a strand of blood-stained flaxen thread fluttered gently in the night breeze. Many shadowy figures had seized their targets.

When the shadowy figures surged back into the temple like a flock of crows returning to their nest, the embryo had already swelled to the size of an adult. Beneath its translucent surface, countless golden veins formed a pattern resembling a sun disk.

Clearly, it was growing brighter as it absorbed life energy. The way the shadowy figures lined up to merge with the embryo was nauseating. They first stretched out into a thin membrane to envelop the embryo, then seeped in like liquid being absorbed by a sponge. With each fusion, a blurry human face would bulge on the surface of the embryo before quickly flattening out.

The air in the sealed room was stagnant.

The priests held their breath, watching the embryo intently.

Its light was no longer faint, but like the rising sun, dyeing the entire underground space crimson.

Each beat is like the pulse of heaven and earth.

Every breath carried the pressure of the gods.

It hasn't opened its eyes yet, but it can already sense the outside world.

It "heard" the priest's prayers, "sense" the life force brought back by the shadow, and "devoured" the souls of the innocent.

It's growing.

It is awakening.

All of this is built upon the loss of countless lives. The night in Memphis remains silent, and unbeknownst to anyone, deep within a temple, the embryo of a false god is quietly being conceived.

It is not La God.

But it is about to become a god.

The embryo suddenly trembled violently, and dozens of fist-sized bulges rose on its translucent surface. These bulges pulsated rhythmically, as if countless hands were pounding the amniotic sac from within. The air throughout the temple resonated with this, and the hanging bronze incense burners collided with each other, emitting a death knell-like hum.

Not enough. Still not enough.

A hoarse whisper exploded in everyone's minds. The embryo, suspended in the center of the magic circle, pulsated slowly, each beat releasing waves of invisible will. At first, it was weak, like a baby's murmur, but it quickly grew strong, urgent, and even carried an almost greedy thirst.

This was not a sound, but a thought that acted directly on the soul, crashing against the minds of every priest present like a tidal wave.

The priest with the scepter immediately knelt before the altar, his forehead pressed against the ground, drawing blood.

“Great Lord of Light! Your humble servant will go now—”

The priest with the scepter had not finished speaking.

“Stop. That’s enough for today.” The woman in black robes’ voice wasn’t loud, but it severed the embryo’s mental fluctuations like an ice blade. She stepped forward slowly, and as the hem of her runic robes swept across the ground, the corpse dust drained by the shadows automatically moved aside. Moonlight filtered through the lotus carvings on the dome, casting spiderweb-like shadows on her face.

"Seventy-nine people have already been sacrificed tonight."

She lightly touched the surface of the embryo with her fingertip, and a charred fingerprint immediately appeared where she touched it. "If this continues, Memphis will descend into complete chaos before the new god is even born."

Hear the words.

The priest of the scepter immediately stood up to refute it.

“He is calling,” he said in a low voice, his tone filled with fervor and awe. “It is not enough. He needs more life force to fully take shape.”

He turned and gave orders to the priests beside him.

"Bring more sacrifices to create new shadows, and tonight find thirty more. They must be strong, with vigorous life force. We must ensure that the moment the new god descends, he possesses the power to dispel the darkness!"

Hear the words.

Just as the priests were about to obey, the woman in black robes suddenly raised her hand.

She pointed to the pulsating embryo.

“We are here to create new guardians, not destroyers. If you continue to feed it with the lives of innocents, it will no longer be a god of light, but a monster that devours everything. Moreover, the remaining residents of the city will inevitably sense the danger spreading, and they will likely choose to migrate, and our city will become a place no one dares to live in.”

The woman in the black robe spoke softly, but everyone could hear her clearly.

Suppressed gasps filled the air around the altar. The young priest, who was carrying a jar of spices, trembled, and the jar shattered on the ground, the dark red powder spreading like blood. The embryo seemed to sense the disturbance; a crack suddenly appeared on its surface, revealing a molten gold-like liquid inside. A sound somewhere between a baby's cry and a beast's roar escaped from the crack.

The priest's face turned deathly pale instantly. He staggered back two steps, the scepter scraping against the ground with a piercing sound.

"Monster? If the god Ra is not resurrected, who will protect this city when the real disaster strikes? Who will resist the erosion of the underworld? Who will maintain the order of faith? At that time, it will not be three people who die, but the entire city of Memphis!" The scepter priest was indignant upon hearing this, but due to the other party's noble status, he could only grit his teeth and try to change his mind.

He took a step closer, pointing his scepter at the woman: "If the new god fails to awaken in time because of your obstruction, leading to disaster, then the blood debt will fall entirely on you."

The woman remained silent for a moment, her gaze resolute.

“I am aware of the consequences,” she said slowly.

“But I know even more clearly that if we resurrect the gods through evil means, what is resurrected will no longer be gods, but demons in divine clothing. Faith built on fear and slaughter will eventually collapse.” She looked around at the priests, her tone stern. “Today’s offerings are sufficient. Cease the hunt.”

Her command was like an invisible law; the priests stopped what they were doing, daring not to disobey. The priest with the scepter was ashen-faced, gritting his teeth, and could only let out a cold snort in the end.

"Okay, okay. We'll do it your way."

He glared fiercely at the other priests. "Are you all deaf? Clean up the altar!"

After saying this, the priest with the staff turned and left, leaving behind a whisper: "You can save today, but not tomorrow. Disaster is coming, and you will eventually understand that mercy is the greatest sin."

The woman in black robes silently watched the priests' frantic actions. As the last attendant withdrew from the inner sanctum, she suddenly pressed her entire palm against the crack in the embryo.

"Is it really Ra we are resurrecting?" she murmured, as if questioning herself, or perhaps questioning the unborn being. As a servant of the sun god Ra, her voice carried a hint of wavering that even she herself was unaware of. There was no way around it; the embryo's heartbeat was strong, after all.

Yet that surge of will echoed in her mind, carrying a twisted longing. The molten gold-like substance within the amniotic sac suddenly solidified. After a moment of silence, a crisp sound like shattering glass came from deep within the embryo, and all the golden patterns simultaneously turned dark red. The woman withdrew her hand with lightning speed, only to see the runes on her palm being eroded in reverse by some kind of black substance.

It seemed as if the other party wanted to turn the woman in black robes into its servant, replacing the power that the sun god Ra had bestowed upon her; it even uttered seductive words.

However, the woman in the black robe remained unmoved.

Unwavering belief.

It quickly severed the part of the force that was eroding it.

outside.

In the shadow of the eaves, the raven's pupils contracted to the size of pinpoints.

Ian could see things that the woman in the black robe couldn't, so he believed that her concerns were not unfounded; he saw that the reflection on the surface of the embryo was not the sun disk at all.

Rather, it was some kind of complex structure with multiple pupils—like the compound eyes of an insect. Even more terrifying, all those pupils were now turned towards the woman in the black robe.

He stared hungrily at her bleeding palm. Ian, in his raven form, witnessed the entire conversation. He began to piece together some startling facts. Sure enough, these people were creating divine life with magic, and the reason was that Ra, whom he hadn't heard a word about, might be dead?

The reason this group behaved so strangely was that they were preparing to create a replacement for the sun god Ra after Ra's fall, in order to deal with a certain disaster.

What kind of disaster would that be?
(End of this chapter)