Challenging a God

The waters of the Styx were black as ink.

Yet they shimmered with an eerie blue phosphorescence.

As though countless souls were burning within them.

The river's surface appeared calm, but hidden currents churned beneath. Countless pale arms reached out from the water, their fingertips rotted and their joints starkly bony, struggling to seize any living being that passed by. On both banks stretched a dim gray wasteland, barren of even a blade of grass. Only withered thorns grew there in twisted shapes, like snakes drained of all life.

There were no sun, moon, or stars in the sky—only a heavy veil of gray mist. Eternal twilight hung over everything like a thick black shroud, utterly severing the boundary between life and death.

The air was saturated with a damp, icy chill, as if even souls would tremble in this land of deathly silence. Occasionally, flashes of soul-light streaked past like lightning, illuminating the dead floating upon the river—they wore twisted expressions, their mouths open in soundless cries, as though they still endured the agony of their lives. This was the underworld of ancient Egypt.

The realm of the dead.

Anubis's domain.

Ian stood at the edge of the Styx, his gaze shifting from the pitch-black waters to the oar in Anubis's hand.

The black shaft was carved with ancient hieroglyphic spells. Every line seemed to flow, like living veins. Simply 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 the oar."

Ian grinned, his tone as casual as if he were borrowing a shovel from a neighbor. Ahead, the Styx wound through the heart of the underworld. Its waters were black as ink, their surface glimmering with a faint blue light, like countless