Miss Hebe is Slaughtering Her Way Out of the Lostbelt!

Even by the strictest standards, she needed to account for the knowledge she possessed.

The situation was like a chessboard from which dozens of pieces had been removed. How could one possibly win?

Hebe's answer was simple: she would pick up the chessboard and smash it into the opposing player's face.

She remembered clearly that even if she brought the news back to Memphis, the military aristocrats and temple priests would still delay for some time before dispatching troops southward—no matter what, some territory and some people would have to be sacrificed.

"Even Red King Ozymandias failed to reclaim those lost lands, leaving them to sink beneath the Osiris Plague."

Hundreds of thousands of people were abandoned one after another, until the seventh year, when there was nowhere left to retreat.

Hebe looked into the dense darkness before her.

The Osiris Plague, a natural disaster named after one of the Ennead.

Unlike the Breath of Set, it only descended within protective barriers, and the more people there were, the more likely it was to occur.

As far as Hebe knew, the outbreak point of this Osiris Plague should have been Thebes.

Not Thebes of ancient Greece, but Thebes Luxor, located along the middle reaches of the Nile River and regarded as the holy land of Upper Egypt.

Legend had it that generations of pharaohs had built countless temples, palaces, and shrines here, and Ramesses II had naturally been the most enthusiastic among them. Not only had he built temples and statues of himself on a grand scale, but he had also altered the statues of past pharaohs and gods to bear his own face.

At its height, Thebes had been called the "City of a Hundred Gates," and Arabs had praised it as a heavenly palace.

Yet now, Thebes was nowhere to be seen. The darkness before her filled everything.

Hebe reached out her hand.

When she had embarked alone on her southward pilgrimage, wielded her staff to drive back the darkness, and rescued those trapped in death, she had already advanced to "Daylight."

To ascend from Dawn to Daylight required a genuine "pilgrimage." What Hebe had done could even be regarded as the foundation of a "great deed."

—To undertake a pilgrimage alone, reclaiming the lives and lands that belonged to the living, like the God of Medicine in myth, like the warriors of legend.

This was also the difference between the past and the future.

In the future, apprentices had the courage and means to try, but lacked opportunities for pilgrimages.

In the past, such opportunities were everywhere, but apprentices lacked the boldness and imagination to seize them.

But Thebes was different from other places. A Daylight-level status was insufficient to shake the Osiris Plague entrenched here.

Hebe calmly stretched out her hand and grabbed at the air beside her.

An exquisite golden lotus ornament lay quietly in her palm. It looked like a brooch, though she did not know whose chest it had once adorned.

In past simulations, Hebe had received this brooch many times.

She gently closed her eyes and focused.

Hebe tossed the brooch into the darkness before her, then reached to her side and pulled.

"I hereby beseech Bestet Junapekape · Saqit · Hatshepsut."

Before her words had even faded, she spoke again.

"Great Pharaoh Pepe..."

"Wah, who exactly are you?!" A crisp complaint rang out from thin air. "How do you have my token? And how dare you call me by my nickname?!"

Witch (Thanks to August Archon · Remnant Wolf for the Golden Treasure Chest)

The girl before her unhappily pricked up the cat ears atop her head and shook her silky, flowing hair, making the water lily on her hood sway.

The tail beneath her cloak stood rigid, while her slender, pale feet stamped irritably against the ground, leaving a mess of footprints.

Even when Pepe was angry, she looked very cute.

Hebe sighed and met her gaze sincerely.

"Please hear me out first."

Hebe pointed to the dense darkness nearby. "There is no need to be angry with me. Just look—we are already in Thebes."

Pepe followed Hebe's fair finger with her eyes, and her slightly chubby face scrunched up.

"The Osiris Plague..."

She pursed her lips, unable to decide whether she should turn and run first or punish Hebe for her disrespect first.

Pepe took a deep breath.

"Listen carefully. I have absolutely no desire to get involved with Thebes at a time like this, much less now that the Calamity of the Ennead has descended here. I don't know how you obtained my token... but if you want to escape, I can give you a ride."

Pepe felt that everything today was utterly baffling, and she had already done more than enough.

Yet the girl with beautiful green eyes merely looked at her calmly, a trace of sorrow flickering in those pupils.

That shade of grief was like rain falling upon water lily petals at night, pricking Pepe's heart.

"Is that so?" Hebe nodded softly. "I understand. Please forgive my presumption; I did not bring more offerings."

"Please forgive me."

The girl gave a slight bow, then calmly turned and swiftly departed.

One step, two steps, three steps.

"Wait!"

The curve at Hebe's lips vanished in an instant.

She turned around, her face showing just the right amount of puzzlement, along with a faint trace of anticipation.

"May I ask if you have any further instructions?"

"Are you trying to die?!" Pepe's voice rose several pitches. "I won't grieve over one person's sacrifice!"

Hebe merely looked at her quietly.

She was waiting.

"Do you think doing this will soften my heart?"

Pepe felt her voice trembling slightly. "You cunning priests... you've all been like this since the Second Dynasty!"

"Tell me. What do you want?"

The girl who had once been Pharaoh and was now the Beast God gazed at Hebe and spoke softly.

Pepe knew that her heart had indeed softened. Whether as Pharaoh or during the time she had lived as the Beast God, she had never liked "sacrifice" or "offerings."

If it were Sister Nitocris, she would not have been troubled by such things. In her eyes, life and death were merely the most natural of cycles, and offerings would be reborn after their sacrifice.

But Pepe was different, so she would rather not look at scenes that made her feel miserable.

She would rather stand beneath the night sky, savoring the loneliness brought by history.

"Please forgive me. I seek your witness for what I am about to do."

"Why..." Pepe pressed her lips together and spoke with some difficulty. "Aren't you Hermanubis's priest? Why not seek the god you worship? Why ask me to bear witness for you?"

Hermanubis was Anubis's Greek name—in other words... he could also be regarded as Nitocris herself.

"Because your kindness surpasses that of all gods," Hebe answered. "Even if I fail, you will bring this news to the Egyptians. But in Hermanubis's eyes, this is the destined end of their lives. There is no need at all to resist it."

"You may still have doubts—if Hermanubis is like this, then why did I become his priest?"

Hebe spoke softly. "Because Hermanubis merely welcomes the coming of mortal endings and does not arrange the process. In his eyes, mortals are like flowing water in a riverbed."

"Hermanubis need only remain silent for his kindness to exceed that of the other gods."

Pepe wanted to explain things on Nitocris's behalf, but some hidden emotion kept her silent.

"Fine." Pepe looked at the girl before her, at those beautiful green eyes. "Tell me your name."

"Imhotep."

"Then, Imma! Whether you succeed or fail, I will keep my promise and tell everyone what happened in Thebes. I will let them know that there was once such a hero who sought to save everything."

Hebe thanked her again, then calmly walked into the darkness.

The darkness was not pure nothingness. It had swallowed everything in Thebes and recreated it within itself.

A surging blue-black river flowed past Hebe.

A numb, sluggish pain echoed through the depths of her body like the tide.

Hebe's eyes shifted as she looked around. Amid an exceptionally lush field of reeds lay countless corpses whose chests had been cut open and organs removed. Quite a number of them had already begun to rot, turning into sludge.

Everything here resembled the underworld where Osiris dwelled.

Splash, splash, splash.

Accompanied by those sounds, two figures emerged from the blue-black river. They were wrapped head to toe in thick linen robes, their surfaces coated in a heavy layer of slime. Their heads of shaggy long hair had clumped into tangled locks, making them resemble enormous crocodiles.

The one on the left held a hook-like knife and mumbled, "It's time, it's time."

"We have to bring ten people to His Majesty."

The one on the right carried pincers and a long hook, replying in a muffled voice, "Then we must not delay."

"They are all nameless dead. Be careful!"

They searched through the corpse-filled sludge and soon arrived near Hebe. Delighted, they dragged an old man up from the ground.

He was called an old man, but in truth, he was only in his thirties or forties.

The old man cried out in terror.

"What are you screaming for? What have you got to scream about?" The crocodile holding the knife roared gruffly. "You are all slaves of the Red King. To die for the king is your duty."

"Damn it! Damn it! You vicious slave, we cannot let you disturb the king's rest!"

The crocodile raised his knife, about to stab it into the old man's mouth and cut out his tongue.

"Why do you call him a slave? This is the underworld—why must he be treated this way?"

At that moment, Hebe straightened up amid the dense reeds by the river.

Her voice was not loud, yet it compelled others to listen.

The crocodile holding the knife shook the old man in his hand, leaned closer, and asked in a muffled voice.

"What place is this?"

Before the old man could answer, the crocodiles chuckled. "This is the Underworld. The Red King is the master of the Underworld."

"You're standing on the Red King's territory now. How are you not slaves?"

"The King has fallen asleep and needs you to offer yourselves up. Refusing to sacrifice yourselves for the King is a crime."

Hebe looked at the old man. "As they said, sacrificing yourself for the King is indeed the highest honor in your Egyptian beliefs. Are you willing?"

Tears streamed from the old man's eyes.

Hebe turned to another woman lying nearby, clutching a child in her arms. "What about you? Are you willing? After offering yourself to the King, are you willing to offer your child as well?"

The young woman was already barely breathing.

"I'm useless now. I'm about to die... Take me away, but don't take my child..."

The two crocodiles looked at Hebe together, mockery in all six of their gloomy eyes.

"And you?" they asked. "What about you?!"

"You slave, when do you plan to go and pay homage to the King?!"

"Not yet. At least, not now." Hebe rose to her feet. "And I'm not a slave—the King of the Underworld, he's the slave!"

"Rebel! Demon!"

The crocodiles were both furious and startled. The "slaves" around them stared at Hebe in disbelief, as though they had seen a true evil ghost crawl up from the Underworld River.

"I'll tear out your tongue! I'll dig out your guts and throw them away! I'll gouge out your eyes! I'll drain every drop of your blood! You filthy demon, you are not fit to pay homage to the King!"

The crocodiles howled as they swung their blades at her.

Hebe did not move. The blade struck her raised arm—struck the Papyrus Scroll wrapped around it.

The blade broke.

The Papyrus Scroll coiled around Hebe's arms. Hermanubis's Sixth Tier Secret Transmission took effect one by one in the Underworld, making her hands long and grotesque.