The Witch's Anatomical Notes

Chapter 111

Farce and Whispers

As time passed, more and more sacrificed souls were rescued and brought ashore.

The riverbanks on both sides of the soul-fishing reed's woven net had already taken on a grim and eerie appearance.

From a purely spiritual perspective, the soul of a zero-tier lifeform resembled a wisp of bluish smoke, making it difficult to distinguish any facial features.

Tier-one lifeforms, such as Tower Knights and wizard apprentices, had souls that could outline their form.

Peak apprentices of tier-two lifeforms had souls detailed enough to discern facial features clearly.

As for tier-three lifeforms, full-fledged wizards, their souls—aside from the color—were indistinguishable from their physical bodies.

With the third wave of sacrificed souls hauled ashore, the total number of rescued souls had already exceeded one million.

This number accounted for the deaths across the entire Wizard Continent and the Old Lands over the past half month.

Fortunately, souls required no food, drink, or rest, or else such a massive number would have been impossible to manage.

Even so, the gathering of millions inevitably led to friction.

After all, in this world, the gap in social status during life was like a chasm and in 'death', some still failed to grasp their position.

Take, for instance, a foolish prince among the rescued, who had just erupted into conflict with a commoner soul that had helped save him.

Kaelde: "What the hell is this place? Insolence! Who dares touch this prince!"

"Your Highness!" Several noble souls hurriedly surrounded him, cautiously explaining, "This is the realm of the dead..."

"Rubbish!"

Kaelde kicked one of the noble souls beside him. "You sons of whores dare to collude with peasants to kidnap me? I’ll tell my father and have him kill every last one of you..."

His curse abruptly caught in his throat, his murky eyes frozen on a certain spot along the riverbank.

A silver-haired girl was directing knights to reinforce the fishing nets. Her proud figure, barely concealed by her black robe, and her fair skin made Kaelde’s soul tremble uncontrollably.

Ever since Lucy had left the Principality of Kolo, this prince had been searching for a silver-haired replacement.

But no one could ever satisfy the desire rooted deep in his heart.

"My silver-haired witch!"

He shoved aside the souls blocking his path. "Get out of my way! Do you know who I am? You filthy peasants!"

Completely unaware that he had already sparked public outrage, Kaelde continued to act recklessly.

At last, a blurry soul blocked his way.

"I know you're the prince, but do you know who I am?"

Faced with such audacity, even someone as dense as Kaelde was momentarily stunned.

Yet no matter how wide he opened his eyes, he couldn’t discern this soul’s appearance. Could it be that the Principality of Kolo had produced a noble daring enough to challenge the royal family?

He cautiously asked, "You are?"

"You don’t know who I am? Even better... I’m your father!"

Thud—

The muffled thump of a fist striking Kaelde’s face triggered a chain reaction. Enraged souls swarmed forward, beating Kaelde until he cried out in misery.

As for those noble souls from earlier, they had long since fled to who-knows-where.

Only after a long while, when the furious crowd had dispersed, did a large hand press down on Kaelde’s head and haul his barely-conscious form up.

"You filthy peasants, I’ll have you all killed... What are you doing?!"

Kaelde was shocked to be lifted single-handedly.

"You seem full of energy. Perfect. Come help me haul the nets," muttered the one-armed Cliff. "Also, if you keep yelling, I’ll break all your limbs. I’m curious whether soul damage affects the body."

Faced with this bear-like tier-three apprentice, Kaelde shrank his neck back.

He could throw his weight around with commoners by virtue of his status, but even a prince of the principality dared not act up in front of a full apprentice.

If he really pushed things too far and ended up getting killed, even Grand Duke Phoenix would only be able to issue a few token reprimands.

"Heh, someone like you actually dared to set your sights on the silver-haired demon? Aren’t you afraid she’ll dissect you..."

In the distance, Lucy raised an eyebrow.

She felt an urge to once again stress: she didn’t dissect living people.

...

The farce caused by the foolish prince passed in a flash, nothing more than a brief episode.

"Lucy, we truly owe you for this. If not for you, the entire Kingdom of Cordova would have been completely finished."

More than a dozen souls of full-fledged wizards expressed their gratitude to Lucy in unison.

They were all official wizards from various principalities—one among them was even a high-ranking wizard.

Just as had been previously speculated, this sacrificial array had encompassed nearly half of the Kingdom of Cordova, affecting several wizard towers.

After returning their gesture, Lucy gave a wry smile.

"My lords, I’m afraid things aren’t that simple." She paused, then continued, "All I did was fish you out of the Styx, but this is still the Realm of Death."

"Once the forces downstream discover that the sacrificed souls haven’t all arrived, they’ll definitely trace their way up the Styx to investigate. When that happens, none of us will be able to escape."

The Death God of the Sea of Eternal Slumber had gone to great lengths for this feast, even colluding with Outer Gods to host this soul banquet.

Now the souls were in place, but the banquet had been overturned by someone else it was easy to imagine how furious he would be.

The wizards exchanged glances.

No matter how powerful they had been in life, without their bodies they were no different from ordinary people, aside from their slightly more solid soul forms.

One wizard finally asked, "Then do we just wait here to die?"

Lucy rubbed her chin, deep in thought.

"Maybe there's still a way."

For a soul that had entered the Realm of Death to return to the realm of the living, it had to pass through the Gate of the Dead.

Ordinarily, with the Gatekeeper, Fenrir, guarding it, that would be impossible. But right now, that dog god should still be bound by Master Theodosius’s corpse-stitching thread on the Path of No Return.

"I need to go ahead and take a look. Maybe I can find a way out."

The lone high-ranking wizard stepped forward. "I still have a few trump cards that can be used in the Realm of Death. I’ll go with you."

"Alright!"

Lucy did not refuse—an extra person meant more support.

The two of them immediately boarded the ark and rowed upstream.

...

On both banks of the Styx, ghostly green soul-lights floated like fireflies, and within the deathly darkness, the sound of intense combat ahead grew clearer and clearer.

As they drew near, the scene before them caused their hearts to clench.

Before the Gate of the Dead, the Gatekeeper, Fenrir, once bound by silver threads, had somehow partially broken free.

But of his original three heads, two had already been decapitated. The massive canine heads lay upon the bone-paved Path of No Return, with pitch-black mist spurting from their severed necks.

The lone remaining black head was frenziedly biting at a sword-wielding enemy.

Clad in a white robe now soaked with blood, the figure still held an overwhelmingly dominant stance against the dog god.

"It's... it's Chief Arbiter Zoe!"

From the twelve Judgment Swords hovering behind the figure, Lucy quickly recalled the person’s identity from memory.

Ranked fourth among the Seven Gods of the Realm of Death.

But why was he here? And why was he attacking Fenrir, who was also one of the Seven Gods of the Realm of Death?!

Dealing with just the Gatekeeper had already proven difficult—now two true gods of the death realm had gathered at the Gate of the Dead. This path was clearly no longer viable.

Just as Lucy was considering what to do—

A sudden sound of a bubble popping reached her ears, and the next moment, Fenrir’s voice echoed in her mind.

‘Why the hell are you back alone? Where’s that old bastard Theodosius?!’

Startled, Lucy looked up—only to see that one of the severed dog heads lying on the Path of No Return was gazing in her direction, its eyes glinting faintly.

‘Don’t look around. Use mental communication—I can hear your thoughts!’

Lucy quickly held her breath and focused her mind.

‘Why is the Chief Arbiter here?’

‘That Sleeper bastard colluded with the God of Light to descend upon the Primary Plane through a true-body sacrifice. This guy’s here to strip me of my divine authority and take control of the Gate of the Dead.’

Fenrir’s words made Lucy frown deeply.

Divine authority was one thing but if the Gate of the Dead were taken by Chief Arbiter Zoe, not only would the millions of sacrificed souls be unable to return, but she herself would be forever trapped in the Realm of Death.

‘What do we do?’