Miss Hebe Is Fighting Her Way Out of the Lostbelt!

Tutankhamun's eyes widened, shock appearing on his face.

At that moment, Hebe spoke her final words. "...I think the gods need only one ruler. They do not care who it is."

And with her will, new words emerged.

The words were incredibly pale, like fresh snow upon a window.

"Ozymandias's ascension ritual has nearly reached its midpoint. In accordance with the Crippled Wolf's promise, a new ruler shall step into eternity, and all of Egypt shall shatter and cease to exist. Yet there is still a chance to turn things around."

"For the rulers have not reached a unified opinion. The gods need only one ruler, but do not care who it is. It may be Ozymandias, or it may be another. And the priest once promised the goddess with whom he forged an alliance that everything would be well, that all would be in perfect order."

You will witness the birth of a new ruler, while proclaiming Ozymandias's defeat. Thus shall this Lostbelt come to an end.

When Nitocris stood outside Abydos, her mood could hardly be called good. She had realized that Hebe's words carried a heavy sense of farewell.

She felt resentment, anger, absurdity, and emptiness. As a Pharaoh, she was instead even more powerless.

Nitocris respected Hebe, just as Hebe respected her. In her eyes, Hebe was a child who might walk into self-destruction at any time, anywhere. Yet the more that was true, the more Nitocris wanted to cherish her, protect her, and accompany her as she grew up safely.

If that was still possible.

At that thought, Nitocris's heart grew even colder. She gazed at the soldiers standing guard atop the city walls, calmly extended her hands, then clenched them into fists and crossed them over her chest.

A dark halo rose behind her head, but the darkness was immediately dyed a bleak white, speck by speck like heavy snow silently falling through the night.

First Mark: Funeral Edict

Second Mark: Great Work of the Underworld God

Third Mark: Judgment of the Underworld God

Fourth Mark: Wind of the Desert Night

A thin layer of white frost abruptly covered Abydos's four gates. A grim chill sprouted from every inch of land. Whether commoner or noble, everyone unconsciously lowered their voices; even footsteps seemed painfully loud.

Sacred Script appeared upon Nitocris's crossed arms. The mere sight of those words made the guards on the walls shed uncontrollable tears, yet the tears froze before they could trail down their cheeks.

Cold winds arrived from every direction and silently circled beneath the gloomy sky. Then, all sound sank into intoxicating frost, and no extraneous noise remained.

Heavy snow came from the edge of the horizon, dyeing Abydos into a blue-white world. Whether the Temple of Kings or the obelisks engraved with achievements, all seemed frail beneath the weight of the snow.

The power of winter had completely transformed the city. Beneath snowlight and moonlight, it would appear even more beautiful, while an intoxicating silence lingered beneath the city's heavens.

It had walls like a crescent moon and a visage like fresh snow. This was present-day Abydos.

Yet Nitocris still felt it was not enough. She raised both arms, and an ancient Papyrus Scroll silently unfurled. One heartbreaking line after another fell upon it, and so, those who had died upon this land over the past thousand years crawled from their graves in succession.

The eye sockets of these dead were deeply sunken, while where their mouths had once been was now a smooth patch of shriveled flesh. Gaunt and skeletal, they wandered through the north wind, becoming Abydos's finest residents.

At last, Nitocris finished her preparations and gently exhaled a pale stream of breath.

Fresh snow and the north winds answered together, giving off a soft resonance.

—Mirror of the Underworld.

At some point, a mirror like polished obsidian had appeared in Nitocris's arms. It was pitch black, like a silent night sky. As she raised her hand, the reflection of Abydos appeared within it, though that city was equally silent and solemn.

All living things were drawn inside. They did not realize that they had already left the present world.

Within the present-day Abydos, only silent dead remained. Following lingering memories, they found the homes where they had once lived.

Nitocris embraced the mirror, reached inside it, and pulled out a white cloak.

There was nothing else upon the cloak, only two hollow eyes silently staring ahead.

Nitocris draped the white royal garment over herself.

The next instant, thunderous rumbling came from afar.

The female Pharaoh looked up. Scorching hot winds were sweeping a sandstorm toward her from an immense distance.

Abydos, Its Crown Cast to the Ground

Seno and the others sailed upstream along the Nile River.

Their vessel was ancient in design, with pointed, upturned ends. It was a craft the Ram School had modeled after the Solar Ship.

Though it could not travel through the air like Ozymandias's throne and could only sail upon water, it was still very fast.

In myth, the great god Ra rode the Solar Ship across the sky from east to west. At night, the Solar Ship passed through the Underworld River. Ra defeated twelve monsters along the way, thus bringing about the dawn of the next day. That was the cycle of a day in Egyptian mythology.

If nothing unexpected happened, they would reach the outskirts of Abydos in half a day at most.

Yet events did not unfold as steadily as expected.

A soldier on the boat casually scooped up a handful of Nile River water. The water swayed in his palm, its color faintly reddened beneath the sunlight.

"Something's wrong..."

Seno did not have time to say more. He quickly leaned his upper body over the side of the boat, his eyes fixed upon the river.

Under everyone's alarmed gazes, the waves rippling out from both sides of the vessel rapidly began to bubble. The bubbles were pale pink and clung together like grapes, but to the people watching, they looked more like bloody froth spewed from a dying man's mouth, or exposed lung tissue after a chest had been cut open!

The bubbles burst rapidly. Then dark red surged up, replacing the clear river water of moments ago.

A pungent smell of blood gradually rose into the air, even blurring their vision.

One of the Nine Calamities, Blood of Isis!

Just as Horus was an aspect of Scar Father, and Set was an aspect of the Crippled Wolf, Isis was an aspect of the Seventh Ruler, the Holy Grail!

This calamity could only occur near bodies of water. Unlike Osiris Plague, it did not claim lives on a massive scale while plunging everything into darkness. It merely contaminated water sources, filling all water with a pungent bloody stench and killing every living thing within them!

"Stay calm! Everyone, bring the boats to shore!" Seno shouted. "Keep away from the bloody water."

He calmly issued orders, and his manner gave everyone present something to rely on. The fleet slowly approached the shore.

Yet his heart was nowhere near as calm as he appeared.

Fortunately, the King of Ibis is not far behind us. Right now, we can only reach Abydos as quickly as possible.

As Seno considered this, the boat suddenly began to pitch violently. The bloody water churned into a whirlpool, and immense suction rose from below, dragging at his vessel and refusing to let it reach shore.

Then a low mutter abruptly sounded beneath the water.

A Crocodile Beast with compound eyes and scaled armor rose from the water and leapt up, slamming toward the boat!

Its body above the water alone was several meters long. Even more terrifying was the fact that this enormous creature could survive in the depths of the Nile River after it had turned into blood.

"Fuck!" Seno had no time to draw his sword. He could only clench his right fist and smash it into the giant crocodile's long snout.

Thud!

The wooden boat spun into the shore, and dark-red bloody water surged up from beneath it. The crocodile howled, threw back its head, and fell into the river, where it began to thrash in agony.

The power of sorcery roared between Seno's fingers, instantly evaporating the splashed blood.

He quickly leapt onto the riverbank.

The foul-smelling river churned like a chaotic hell. The giant crocodile sank beneath the water, whether dead or merely licking its wounds, no one knew.

Their boats also sank into the river one after another, without raising so much as a ripple.

And along with the boats, the spirits of everyone who witnessed it sank as well—their high morale instantly plummeted.

A poor start was one of the greatest blows to morale.

Everyone turned their eyes to Seno once more, waiting for his next order.

"How much food and fresh water do we have left? Were any weapons lost?"

After receiving affirmative answers, Seno calmly said, "Since our supplies and weapons are intact, what do you have to be so dejected about? Besides, the King of Ibis is right behind us. Do you really think Lord Imhotep will simply watch us march to our deaths?"

The crowd whispered among themselves, once again drawing confidence from Seno's certain tone.

"Let's move. We need to make up time." Seno waved his hand. "This time, we travel by land."

Traveling by land would take longer, but it would be safer and more stable... or at least, it should have been.

After encountering sand bandits for the second time, Seno ordered his men to stop holding back.

They had already wasted enough time, and among the obstacles on this road, blind sand bandits were the easiest problem to deal with.

If they encountered a natural disaster, they could only take a detour.

Yet along this journey, what made them most uneasy and anxious were the massive herds of beasts.

These monsters, which normally concealed their tracks, appeared before them in groups. And the closer they came to Abydos, the more frequently they appeared.

Something has happened in Abydos, Seno thought.

He did not want to indulge in endless, baseless speculation. He could only lead the team onward. At the end of their silent march, they finally saw their intended destination.

According to legend, this city rivaled Memphis. The king lists and temples here established a scale of majesty, and the lineages of several dynasties had been remembered here for ages.

Yet now, heavy clouds circled over Abydos's sky. Blazing hot winds howled as they shattered its outer walls, turning the city that had stood here for countless centuries into grayish-yellow ruins.

Winged venomous snakes coiled atop towering obsidian obelisks. Upon city streets already covered in drifting sand, tens of thousands of venomous scorpions made hair-raising sounds as they endlessly laid eggs, hatched, and slaughtered one another.

And the rooms where people had once lived had become nests for Poison Birds. Sticky feathers covered their shriveled bodies as they let out hoarse, mournful cries, proclaiming the city's end.

Abydos was finished.

They had still arrived too late and could only witness the city's conclusion.

Seno had no time to think about what this meant. He immediately ordered the group to slowly retreat farther away—during the time they had been watching, the winged serpents circling within the storm had already slithered toward them.

Seno was fortunate. They had not personally witnessed the descent of Breath of Set. It was an exceptionally abnormal and terrifying sight; merely seeing it could cause severe disorientation, even direct mutation.

Nitocris had withdrawn from frost-covered Abydos at the first opportunity, but she had not truly gone far.

Though she had some guesses regarding Hebe's arrangements, she had never truly believed that Ozymandias would destroy Abydos.

The reason was simple: the Temple of Kings was here.

It was where successive Pharaohs were worshipped, and where many Pharaohs had their tombs.

In other words, it was both an ancestral temple and an ancestral burial ground.

It was like some young thug rumored to be capable of every evil. No matter how rotten or terrible the rumors made him out to be, he should not go so far as to dig up his own family graves... but Ozymandias was no ordinary man.

When he had renounced the title of Pharaoh, he had already burned all the former kings in the Temple of Kings as firewood!

So what pressure could there be for Ozymandias in destroying one more shell of an Abydos?

The hot winds and sandstorm arrived just like that.

Nitocris suddenly felt cold. She was completely disappointed in the Ozymandias she had once looked up to.

She silently watched Abydos, watching destruction descend upon the dead within the city.

First came the hot winds and sandstorm, completely sealing off Abydos.

Then every water source stored in the city turned foul and putrid, becoming unusable.

Masses of maggots bred in the rotten water.

In theory, the dead within the city should not have been affected. Yet chaos was born among them—the silent dead actually began resisting Nitocris's control, attempting to achieve "freedom."

To avoid being discovered, Nitocris severed her control.

The silent dead launched a terrifying riot. Their shriveled bodies had no blood, yet under the effects of the natural disaster, they still acted according to instincts left over from life.

Thus, the entire city spiraled out of control, from top to bottom and bottom to top.

The dead silently swayed with that dreadful atmosphere. Some dead who had developed self-awareness tried to open the gates and end the chaos, but it was futile.

Soon, the desire merely to endure became uncontrolled and alien. Under those bizarre influences, the dead cast aside all sense of self. Change no longer occurred merely within their hearts, but manifested from within upon their bodies.

Those who had once loved reproduction saw their cheekbones grow more prominent, their arms elongate into strange wing-like limbs, while their lower legs atrophied from disuse. Their reproductive organs grew ever more vigorous, replacing their withered legs as tools for walking. Altogether, they resembled winged snakes.

Those who had once loved conflict saw their arms become stronger and more powerful, their hands mutate into pincers. Having lost their climbing arms, their ribs became flexible, parallel legs, allowing them to move freely across sand and sheer walls. Their tailbones extended backward and grew venomous stingers, like scorpions.

Those who had once loved power grew feathers over their bodies, covering their otherwise empty, shriveled forms. They forever held their heads high, either circling in the clouds or lingering atop the city's heights. They were easy to recognize; aside from their bulging eyes, they looked like enormous birds.

This was the monsters' original origin. Rather than a fall, it was more like transformation and atavism. The silent dead became the Crippled Wolf's army, and after dozens of rapid iterations, they had completely become monsters.