Chapter: 224
One day, Rychlen got drunk and accidentally beat his friend to death.
How Rychlen, who could gulp down a barrel of strong liquor without feeling a buzz, ended up so wasted that he lost all sense and killed his friend was a mystery even to himself.
As a result, his friend lost his life at Rychlen’s hands, and Rychlen felt an endless wave of responsibility for his friend’s demise.
He desperately wanted to bring his deceased friend back to life.
“You can raise the dead? You’re not the dragon priestess from the legends, are you?”
Someone overheard his tale and remarked. Raising the dead was indeed an impossible dream for the average person.
The companion of a legendary hero. Sure, the Dragon Priestess wielded resurrection magic, but that was only because she served as a proxy for the Goddess of Life.
In general, it’s safe to say that nobody could typically resurrect the dead.
Yeah, usually.
“If there’s a sage in the deep forest, wouldn’t he know how to raise the dead?”
“The sage of the deep forest….”
“Oh, have you not heard? It’s a well-known tale from decades past. It’s about a sage who left behind numerous prophecies. They say he was so impressive that even the gods had to listen to his words.”
Rychlen nodded.
He vaguely remembered hearing about that from one of his teachers a long time ago. This sage had been active since before Rychlen was born and had made quite a few prophecies.
“Where is the sage of the deep forest?”
“They say he’s in the deep forest, but no one knows his exact location. The gods might know, though.”
At that, Rychlen let out a small sigh.
For some reason, the influence of the gods had been rapidly diminishing over the past few decades, and there weren’t many temples still operating normally.
In the end, Rychlen decided to head to the Temple of Life, which still retained its power largely because it was always frequented by desperate seekers.
Before leaving, Rychlen didn’t forget to use a valuable magical scroll to encase his friend’s corpse in cold ice to prevent decay.
Even if he managed to revive his friend… it wouldn’t help if the body rotted away, leaving only bones.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Upon seeing Rychlen’s face, the priest of the Temple of Life told him about the Sage of the Deep Forest.
As if he had known all along what Rychlen was searching for.
Thus, Rychlen set off toward the deep forest where that sage supposedly resided. He eventually met the sage in an unlit part of the forest, exchanged a few words, and received several items.
The sage pointed out that the entrance to the underworld lay at the northern end of the world, beyond the frozen sea.
Encountering giants sometimes and being attacked by wild beasts at other times, Rychlen made his way to the northern end of the continent, where the entrance to the underworld was said to be.
A frozen sea with ice as sharp as blades. A black bridge stretched across the tumultuous sea.
As Rychlen faced the black bridge, which he could never return from once he crossed it, he suppressed the fear rising in his chest and took a step forward.
Finally, Rychlen stood before the gates of the underworld, just past the bridge.
“Abandon all hope, ye who enter.”
The inscription on the gates of the underworld pierced Rychlen’s heart like a sharp warning.
Even though he called himself a hero, would he truly be able to traverse this dark realm?
Could he safely pass through the underworld and reclaim his friend’s soul?
Rychlen steadied his trembling heart and took another look at the gates of the underworld.
A black door set against pitch-black rock. A terrifying portal that sent shivers down the spine at just the sight of it.
Standing in front of that door, Rychlen silently rolled up his sleeves and pushed with all his might.
Even with a hint of exaggeration, it was said that to budge the gates of the underworld, one would need enough strength to move mountains. It took half a day just to create a space wide enough for a single person to slip through.
With all his strength, Rychlen pushed the door to create a gap to pass through, and hurried inside just as the door began to close.
The moment he passed through, the door he had struggled to open closed quickly behind him.
If he had delayed even a moment longer… he’d have been crushed between those heavy doors and reduced to mere pieces.
Rychlen wiped the cold sweat from his brow and began to descend the steps into the underworld.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
How far did he venture into the dark cave where he couldn’t see even a step ahead?
Rychlen continued to descend, relying on the faint light from the magic stone lantern powered by magical stones, one of the items bestowed by the sage of the deep forest.
How much time had elapsed? It was only after a day had passed since he crossed the gate that he spotted a vast square instead of narrow, winding stairways.
And on the other side of the square stood a giant made of black stone.
A giant of black rock, a far cry from the ones made of flesh and blood.
The first guardian of the underworld.
Obsidian Colossus. Talos.
He was a watcher with red eyes, keenly observing each soul that descended into the afterlife. A blade ready to cleave down anyone who dared to enter and disrupt the order of the realm.
Before Talos’s gaze fell upon him, Rychlen quickly extinguished the flame of the magic lantern and held his breath.
To advance toward the underworld, he had to pass the path behind Talos. However, deceiving Talos’s eyes with a living body would be impossible.
Anticipating this scenario, the sage of the deep forest had given Rychlen an item to trick Talos’s sight.
Rychlen carefully took out the item he had kept close to his chest.
A small pouch. A tiny pouch with a thin string attached.
The sage instructed him to ignite the string and toss it at Talos’s head; it would temporarily obstruct his vision.
Skeptical, Rychlen lit the string and hurled it towards Talos’s face.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
In this manner, Rychlen overcame numerous trials and obstacles, making his descent into the underworld.
Hell, divided into seven layers, showed various transformations as one descended through each floor. Strangely enough, after passing through the notoriously challenging third layer, it felt almost manageable.
The pained moans of those suffering in such harsh circumstances rattled Rychlen, but thanks to the earplugs gifted by the sage and the directions he had received, he level-headedly navigated through.
Or perhaps, the issue lay with the unexpectedly formidable guardian of the third layer.
The items supplied by the sage merely helped him trick Talos and cross the river of the dead. The remaining layers had to be navigated by Rychlen’s own skills… making it that much tougher.
In any case, Rychlen finally reached the last gate of the underworld after descending all seven layers in utter disarray.
According to the sage’s words, beyond this door lay the gods of the underworld.
If they deemed Rychlen deserving of death, he would find himself without a shred of power to resist.
Yet, Rychlen placed faith in himself.
And he trusted the sage’s words.
He believed that facing the gods of the underworld would grant him the power to bring his dead friend back to life, just as the sage had promised.
Thus, Rychlen opened the door and stepped inside.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
A courtroom made entirely of pitch-black stone.
Within, three gods were seated, each preparing for the trial.
The king of death, Thanatos, wielded a colossal scythe, his body composed of darkness, casting an ominous aura.
Moros, the judge of the underworld, held the register of every being’s lifespan and a mirror to observe their life’s journey.
Ceres, the goddess of half-life and half-death, grasped a scale in one hand and a sword of judgment in the other, ready to weigh the souls of the dead.
The trio of underworld officials cast their frigid gazes upon Rychlen.
Of course, it was expected. This was the first instance since the underworld’s inception that a living soul had traversed to its deepest reaches.
Had any one of the three pronounced Rychlen’s death sentence, he would have been separated from his body and soul without a scintilla of resistance.
Yet, the three did not do so.
Though they were displeased with Rychlen’s living presence here, they seemed resigned to the occurrence.
They gestured toward the corridor behind them.
A corridor crafted from black rock, polished to the extent that Rychlen’s reflection shimmered upon its surface.
Initially suspicious of their intentions, Rychlen realized there must be a compelling reason the gods of death, capable of ending his life at a whim, engaged in such a cumbersome task.
Rychlen heeded the death gods’ directives and proceeded along the black stone corridor.
A smoothly honed black rock corridor.
Rychlen began walking down the black corridor that reflected his image like a mirror.
At some point, Rychlen noticed he was not traversing the corridor alone.
No, while it was unmistakably true he was the only one walking, reason inexplicably revealed another figure alongside his reflection on the wall.
It was the form of a girl with black hair, a vision within the mirror-like wall that was decidedly unreal.
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