The waters of the River Styx were black as ink.
Yet they shimmered with an eerie blue phosphorescence.
As if countless souls were burning within them.
The river's surface looked calm, but hidden currents surged beneath. Countless Pale Hands reached out from the water, their fingertips rotted and knuckles skeletal, struggling to seize any living being that passed by. On both banks lay a bleak gray wasteland where not a blade of grass grew. Only withered thorns twisted upward, like snakes drained of all Life Force.
There was no sun, moon, or stars in the sky, only a heavy layer of gray fog. Eternal twilight descended like a thick black veil, completely severing the boundary between life and death.
The air was filled with a damp, icy chill, as though even souls would tremble in this land of deathly silence. From time to time, lightning-like soul-light flashed past, illuminating the dead drifting on the river—they had twisted faces and silently gaping mouths, as if they still endured the suffering of their lives. This was Ancient Egypt's Underworld.
The kingdom of the dead.
Anubis's domain.
Ian stood by the River Styx, his gaze shifting from the pitch-black water to the oar in Anubis's hand.
The jet-black shaft was carved with ancient Hieroglyphic incantations. Every line seemed to flow like living veins. Merely staring at it sent a chill racing up Ian's spine—not fear of death, but an instinctive wariness toward something deeper and more chaotic.
"Lend me your oar."
Ian grinned, his tone as casual as if he were borrowing a shovel from a neighbor. Ahead of him, the River Styx wound through the heart of the Underworld. Its waters were black as ink, their surface gleaming with a faint blue light like countless eyes staring into the abyss. Anubis's golden