NOVEL NEXT Chapter 35: A Familiar Culture
I had countless ideas about what awaited me beyond the barrier. A sprawling kingdom with rows of servants? Ha! Perhaps a grand throne room lined with armored knights, and at the center, a gilded seat worthy of a "King of Seals." With the authority he wielded, that seemed only fitting.
But the moment a blast of hot wind filled my mouth with sand, all those images crumbled. What stretched before me wasn't majesty it was a desert. Not just any desert, either. The landscape was uncannily familiar, like scenes I'd only glimpsed in films and documentaries: endless dunes, dry air shimmering under the sun, and the broken silhouettes of ancient pyramids scattered across the horizon. And towering above them all was the largest one where Derrick Ashborn must be resting.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Azazel remarked. "All of this was born from our master's imagination paradise pools and golden sands. Truly a sight to behold!"
Imaginative? I wasn't so sure. To me, it looked like something copied straight out of a book—or a documentary about pyramids in the desert.
"Yes, um, Adjudicator Azazel," I said carefully. "Quite a sight. A… familiar sight?"
Azazel narrowed his eyes, then quickly rephrased. "Ah familiar? Impossible! Surely you mean a sight unlike any you've ever seen before. Astraga, our rides are almost here."
Indeed, two double-humped camels approached, swaying with each step.
"Um, why don't we just teleport there? It's kind of hot, don't you think?" I asked, wiping sweat from my brow.
Azazel shook his head without hesitation. "A strict rule of the master. He wants us to savor the experience. That, in fact, is why I was late."
I blinked. Was he serious? Camels? When we literally had mana? No this wasn't just about the heat or transportation. Everything here pointed toward a very straightforward conclusion.
I had never been to a desert, but I at least expected the sun to be hotter than this. Yes, a sun was present in this place; this was truly amazing. As the camels moved at a steady pace, we reached the biggest pyramid. In front of a massive, ancient-looking gate stood two imposing statues of dog-headed guardians. Each figure was meticulously crafted, with a jackal-like head and the powerful, athletic body of a man. Their bodies were a deep, polished black, contrasting with the golden and bronze armor that adorned their chests and forearms. White, kilt-like garments were wrapped around their waists, falling to just above their knees. This place was trying so hard to be Egypt.
The statues held staffs in their hands, their tops shaped into ornate golden symbols. The gate behind them was carved with hieroglyphs and murals, hinting at a rich, forgotten history of a world I knew little of but was well known. The overall impression was one of immense power, mystery, and an ancient, solemn watchfulness. I had seen them in movies and other forms of media back in my previous life, but I couldn't properly tag a name on the guards. I remembered now that in Egyptian culture, they were called Anubis.
As the gates opened, I could only stare at the Anubis guards as they stood motionless. Azazel paid them no attention as well.
The interior of the massive pyramid was indeed fit for royalty, but not for a king for a pharaoh. Upon entering, the air grew heavy with the scent of frankincense and the dust of ages. The pathway ahead was a long, grand corridor flanked by towering pillars carved with intricate hieroglyphs. The walls were not just stone but a canvas of polished black granite and alabaster, depicting scenes of pharaohs in battle, worshipping gods, and ruling their kingdom. Each mural was inlaid with gold leaf and fragments of lapis lazuli, catching the light and creating a dazzling display. The attention to detail was mind-boggling. Could Derrick have been an actual pharaoh in this world? Did this world have histories similar to mine? So many questions I had to ask, but they could only be answered by the one and only himself: Greatest-grandfather Derrick Ashborn.
"This way," Azazel directed as we got closer and closer to the throne room.
The floor was a mosaic of obsidian and marble, arranged in a spiraling pattern that drew the eye forward. Statues of various gods and mythical creatures that were very similar to the ones I could remember from Egyptian mythology now stood in alcoves along the hall a Sphinx with a serene gaze, the falcon-headed Horus, and the ibis-headed Thoth, all rendered with an unnerving sense of lifelike presence. The ceiling arched high overhead, painted a deep, cosmic blue, speckled with gold and silver to represent the stars, a celestial map guiding the pharaoh's journey.
As we walked, the corridor widened, leading to a massive doorway. The doors themselves were colossal slabs of bronze embossed with the pharaoh's cartouche and flanked by more statues this time, twin Anubis guards, their jackal heads turned ever so slightly, as if they were watching our every move. The silence was profound, broken only by the echo of our own footsteps, amplifying the sense of awe and anticipation as we approached the final destination: the throne room.
Then Azazel stood in his tracks as we reached the end. "This is the furthest I can go, Astraga, as it wasn't me the Master sought. I dare not step any further."
"Now go," he said, touching my outfit, trying to adjust it as he wanted me to look my best. This was it: the throne room of the strongest Ashborn.
As the doors creaked open, an imposing figure sat upon a massive, golden throne, bathed in a single, dramatic beam of green or, more accurately, emerald light that cut through the surrounding darkness. The being, with the head of a jackal surely that wasn't his face, was it? and piercing, glowing emerald eyes, wore a royal pharaoh's headdress of striped black and gold. His body was muscular, covered in ornate, dark blue, and bronze armor that gleamed faintly. He held a hooked ceremonial blade in one hand, resting it casually on his knee, a picture of silent, uninterrupted power and intense menace.
The throne itself was a colossal work of art, made of polished gold and intricate carvings. Its armrests were sculpted into the powerful forms of golden sphinxes, their gazes fixed forward. Behind him, the high back of the throne was a maze of detailed hieroglyphs, dominated by the sinuous form of a coiled cobra at its center. The chamber was shrouded in shadow, with only a faint, eerie emerald light emanating from some unseen source, adding to the feeling of ancient, unassailable might.
I had only gotten to meet two males at the moment in this world: Mr. Vulgabread and Derrick Ashborn. I could tell immediately that Derrick was indeed not like Father. I could only imagine him to be a stern man, strict to the bone.
"Welcome, Astraga Fula, descendant of my third son, Horus. Do all these look familiar to you?" he asked, seemingly interested in my response.
"Yes, quite a lot, actually, Greatest-grandfather."
"Hmm, interesting," he replied.
He placed both hands on the throne seat as he wore his pharaoh attire, giving me absolute chills. As sunlight slowly began to engulf the shadow, I said, "Greatest-grandfather... yes, this whole place looks familiar, but it's truly beautiful. I was told you created all this simply from your imagination?" Stupid, he literally knows. Don't repeat what he can already see, I instantly regretted my actions.
"Well, that is partly true, Astraga," he said. "But then I would think it's most appropriate to call you by your earthly name, don't you think, Tamado Grey?"
What? How did he know my past name?