The Beginning

The three-hundred-year deadline passed in the blink of an eye.

In the World of Gods, after a brief three hundred years, the power belonging to the gods began to gather, moving toward the underworld of the God of Death.

The God of Death's underworld finally opened to the outside world for the first time since its creation ten thousand years ago, revealing its true face.

Faint Death Power gathered, filling the surrounding world. An inscrutable force of law enveloped the land, making the world appear hazy as a unique power flickered within it.

All around, a black river flowed, running through the entire world and lending it a touch of variety.

Anyone who turned their gaze to the Styx River before them and carefully observed its waters would see souls bobbing within. The river's power washed over them, gradually eroding their impurities and memories until their expressions grew blank.

It was a horrifying sight.

After a living being died, the Styx River drew in its soul and subjected it to a baptism, washing away all its memories and identity from life and transforming it into a new, pure soul.

This scene might have seemed all well and good, but to the living, it was terrifying.

After a soul was baptized and washed by the waters of the Styx River, could it still be considered the same person once its memories were gone?

Perhaps, in essence, it was still the same soul as before. But after losing its memories and sense of self, it could no longer be entirely the same as it had been.

Without a doubt, every living being hoped to avoid such a fate.

Now and then, souls wreathed in Golden Radiance could also be seen in the river.

They were usually devout followers of the gods or