The Witch's Anatomical Notes

Chapter 106

The Realm of Death and the Gatekeeper

"Master, are these shattered divine artifact fragments still useful?"

Lucy had double-checked—there was no divine power fluctuation left on the scythe, and the material had become brittle due to corrosion, so fragile it seemed it would snap with a light twist.

"Hehehe..." Theodosius replied with his usual sinister smile, "You think divine artifacts are that simple."

His withered fingers gently traced the mottled patterns on the scythe. "Every material capable of bearing divine power is a rare treasure. Even if the divine blessing is gone and it's rusted over..."

The old sorcerer suddenly raised the scythe toward the dying sun, the rust gleaming blood-red in the afterglow. "As long as divine power is poured into it again, its edge will return."

"It's not easy to find this kind of material nowadays. Keep it safe."

He said this as he handed the scythe back to Lucy.

During the Age of Gods, the Lady of Harvest wasn't among the top-tier deities—at most, she could be considered trailing among the first rank.

But that didn’t mean the authority in her hands was weak.

To govern harvest meant to govern grain, climate, and life itself. It was just that the Harvest Goddess wasn’t skilled in combat.

Lucy suddenly understood and carefully stored the scythe in the Abyss of Nightmares.

When she looked up again, she found Theodosius staring at the horizon.

"Master, where are we going next?"

"According to plan, our journey should end here. The task of slaying gods will be mine alone now." The old sorcerer suddenly turned, his black robe stirring up a cloud of dust. "But you, girl, suit my taste well. How about accompanying me for a walk through the Realm of Death?"

Lucy’s eyes lit up instantly.

How could she pass up such an opportunity?

They walked another two hourglasses' worth across the desolate land before finally pausing atop a sand dune.

"Here will do."

Theodosius retrieved a mass of ghostly green flame from his spatial artifact—this was the soulfire of the Horseman of Famine.

The flame, infused with the Law of Famine, pulsed continuously, trying to escape the old sorcerer’s control.

But Theodosius’s gaze grew focused.

With a forceful pinch of his fingers—

Bang—

The soulfire shattered instantly, and the enormous soul of the Horseman of Famine transformed into countless ghostly faces, scattering in all directions.

Theodosius made no move to stop them. He merely narrowed his eyes, surveying the surroundings.

Just as Lucy was about to ask, a breathless pressure gripped her chest, and an unspeakable fear crept over her.

When she turned around, she was startled to see a colossal stone gate materializing, with a freezing chill seeping from the crack between the doors.

"This is—!"

"The Gate of the Dead," Theodosius’s gray hair whipped wildly in the howling wind. "The only way the living can enter the Realm of Death. It appears only when a being who commands a Law dies—the gate then draws in the soul carrying that Law."

As the stone gate slowly opened, the fleeing soulfire fragments were suddenly seized by invisible hands, screaming as they were dragged inside.

Once the last piece of soulfire was bound by the Laws of the Realm of Death, Theodosius stepped toward the gate.

"Stay close!"

The inside of the Gate of the Dead wasn’t the darkness one might expect. Instead, countless bluish phantasmal lights floated in the air, like fireflies over a swamp on a summer night.

As Lucy passed through the unknown space within the gate’s crack, what lay before her was a road paved entirely with white bones.

Beside the path, a massive river flowed from the void beside the Gate of the Dead, winding its way to the far reaches of the Realm of Death.

Only upon closer inspection did she realize that it wasn’t water flowing through the river, but countless writhing, ghostly green souls.

Most were elderly, teetering on the edge of death, but there were also young and even childish faces mixed among them.

"The Styx. In principle, all the dead from the Old Lands and the Wizard Continent have their souls bound by Law and cast into this river."

Theodosius’s boot crushed a finger bone underfoot. "As for this road we’re walking—this is the Path of No Return. When souls are too powerful for the Styx to contain, they pass through the Gate of the Dead into the Realm of Death, and from there, travel the Path of No Return to the Avenue of the Sages. No soul can turn back on this road."

Lucy shifted around—forward, back, left, and right but felt no binding from any Law.

It must have been because they hadn’t died in the usual sense, but had entered the Gate of the Dead with their physical bodies. Naturally, the Laws of the Realm of Death couldn’t restrain a living being.

Still, what exactly was this Avenue of the Sages?

Everything in the Realm of Death filled Lucy with wonder.

But Theodosius gave no further explanation. Instead, he raised his eyes and gazed into the distance.

"Stay here and don’t wander. I’m off to deal with an old friend."

Just as he spoke, the Path of No Return beneath Lucy’s feet began to tremble.

The souls within the Styx huddled together in panic, creating waves of ghostly energy.

Moments later, Lucy finally laid eyes on the "old friend" Theodosius had mentioned a massive three-headed hound, ten meters tall.

Its body was covered in bristling fur of black, red, and white. Around the neck of each head hung a huge iron chain.

As the three-headed hound ran, the chains clattered with harsh, grinding noise.

"Who dares open the Gate of the Dead unbidden—grrrr!!!!"

At a distance of roughly two hundred meters, the hound suddenly seemed to sense something horrifying. Its long limbs slammed to a halt, and its massive body skidded dozens of meters before coming to a stop.

Theodosius slowly rose into the air, his graying hair floating as if moved by unseen currents.

"Fenrir—Gatekeeper, Moon-Eater, one of the Seven Gods of the Realm of Death—do you still remember me?"

Fenrir stared at Theodosius as though he had seen a ghost.

"Dammit! Is it the Day of Contract again? But why are you the one handling the Realm of Death this time?! And..."

All six of the three-headed hound’s eyes—each the size of a carriage wheel—locked onto Lucy by the banks of the Styx.

"You even brought someone else through the Gate of the Dead!"

Being glared at by that massive beast, Lucy felt her entire body go cold—her very soul seemed ready to flee her flesh.

"Wait!"

Fenrir suddenly began sniffing toward Lucy’s direction, as if picking up something strange.

"You carry the scent of that old nightmare from the Nightmare Plane... and the scent of the Law of Time... Your scent... I know it well..."

The dog god paced left and right, seemingly at ease, yet its massive claws carved deep furrows into the Path of No Return. All three bloodied maws grinned at once.

"I remember now. The soul inhabiting this body came to the Realm of Death a year ago. Interesting... your soul doesn’t belong to this world..."

Came here a year ago?

Lucy immediately realized—it must have been the original owner of this body.

That girl had gazed upon something anomalous and died from an excessive Contamination Value.

Who would have thought this hound god could pinpoint the soul’s scent amidst billions of the dead, all from a year ago?

"A soul from another world..." All three of Fenrir’s heads licked their fangs simultaneously, and thick drool poured down like a waterfall. "It’s been ages since I’ve tasted one of those!"

As his voice dropped, Fenrir, having silently crept into striking range, suddenly lunged with jaws wide open, snapping toward Lucy.

"Impudent!"

At that moment, Theodosius finally acted.

Countless threads burst from the void, wrapping tightly around Fenrir’s limbs. Accompanied by a thunderous impact, the silver threads let out a resonant hum.

Threads that had withstood both the Red Dragon and the Horseman of Famine now began to fray when facing Fenrir, one of the Seven Gods of the Realm of Death.

Dozens of threads snapped instantly.

Yet they managed to halt the dog god’s momentum.

The giant maw slammed shut less than half a meter from Lucy’s face.

The mere force of wind and saliva from the chomp almost shattered Lucy’s Fractured Crystal Reverse Scale Shield.

"You dare lay a finger on my guest!"

Theodosius’s expression turned savage, his hair and beard bristling. His fingers clenched midair, and the threads bit deeply into Fenrir’s fur.

"Wh-why can’t I eat her?!" Fenrir struggled violently. "My authority comes from guarding the Gate of the Dead—keeping the living out and the dead in. Even a Crown Wizard has no right to question me if I devour her!"

"Enough with the babble."

Theodosius sneered. "Let’s stick to the usual rules!"

"Whimper... beat me, and you may pass the Path of No Return!"

"As you wish."

"I’m not the same as I was twenty years ago—damn it! I wasn’t done talking—!"

Amid Fenrir’s wailing, his massive body was already yanked into the sky by the silver threads, flung toward the opposite bank of the Styx.

"This place is too cramped. Let’s find a bigger space for a proper fight!"

Lucy stood frozen, watching as man and hound disappeared into the mist.

She suddenly realized—this journey into the Realm of Death might be far more dangerous than she had imagined...