Chapter 224

One day, Rychlen got drunk and beat his friend to death.

Even Rychlen, who was so strong with alcohol that he could chug an entire jar of potent booze without getting tipsy, couldn’t explain how he ended up completely losing control and accidentally killing his friend in a drunken rampage. But the damage was done.

Ultimately, his friend had died by Rychlen’s hands, and Rychlen himself felt an infinite amount of responsibility for it.

He wanted to bring his dead friend back to life.

“Reviving someone from the dead? That’s something only the legendary Dragon Priestess would do.”

When Rychlen told his story, someone responded. Indeed, reviving the dead wasn’t something just anyone could achieve.

In legends, the Dragon Priestess, acting as the representative of the Goddess of Life, did possess the ability to resurrect the dead through powerful magic. However, such feats were extraordinarily rare and usually tied to divine intervention.

Still… rare didn’t mean impossible.

“Maybe the Sage of the Deep Forest knows a way to revive the dead?”

“The Sage of the Deep Forest…?”

“Yes, you’ve probably never heard of him. He’s famous from several decades ago—a prophet whose words even the gods listened to.”

Rychlen nodded thoughtfully. He vaguely remembered hearing about this sage from one of his old mentors. The man had been active long before Rychlen was born, leaving behind many prophecies.

“Where can I find this Sage of the Deep Forest?”

“In the deep forest, though no one knows exactly where. Maybe the gods know.”

At that, Rychlen sighed softly. It was true—over the last few decades, the influence of the gods had waned significantly, and active temples dedicated to them were few and far between. So, Rychlen decided to head to the Temple of Life, one of the few places where divine presence still lingered strongly.

Before leaving, Rychlen used a valuable Magic Scroll to encase his friend’s corpse in ice, preventing decay until he could potentially revive him. After all, bringing someone back to life would be pointless if their body rotted away to bones.

—

The priests at the Temple of Life seemed to already know what Rychlen sought when they saw his face. They immediately gave him directions to the Sage of the Deep Forest.

Guided by their advice, Rychlen ventured into the shadowy depths of the ancient woods, eventually meeting the mysterious sage after sharing some brief words. The sage provided him with a few cryptic items and mentioned that the entrance to the Underworld lay beyond the frozen seas at the northernmost edge of the world.

With occasional help from giants and frequent attacks by predators and beasts along the way, Rychlen journeyed toward the continent’s frozen north. There, he faced a perilous black bridge over a sea of knife-like ice waves. Crossing meant there would be no return.

Clutching fear in his heart but determined nonetheless, Rychlen pushed forward onto the black bridge. It groaned under his weight, threatening collapse with every step. Finally, he reached the ominous gates of the Underworld.

“Abandon all hope ye who enter here.”

The inscription on the gate sent shivers down Rychlen’s spine. Could even a hero like him truly navigate the Underworld? Would he succeed in retrieving his friend’s soul?

After steadying his racing thoughts, Rychlen stared at the pitch-black stone gates carved from obsidian. Even touching them filled him with dread, yet he rolled up his sleeves and braced himself to push them open. Despite his legendary strength, it took hours of grueling effort just to create enough space for him to squeeze through.

Once inside, the massive doors slammed shut behind him with terrifying speed. If he’d hesitated even slightly, he might’ve been crushed into two pieces by the colossal gates.

Wiping cold sweat from his brow, Rychlen began descending the staircase leading deeper into the Underworld.

—

How long had he traveled through the pitch-dark cave? Guided only by the faint glow of a mana-powered lantern gifted by the sage, Rychlen pressed on. About a day after passing through the gates, he emerged into a vast square dominated by a towering statue made entirely of black rock.

This was Talos—the Obsidian Giant, the first guardian of the Underworld. Unlike living giants, Talos was crafted from solid obsidian, his glowing red eyes scanning everyone who dared enter the realm of the dead.

Talos served as both overseer and executioner, ensuring no unauthorized souls disturbed the peace of the Underworld.

Knowing direct confrontation was futile, Rychlen quickly extinguished his lantern and held his breath. To pass unnoticed, he needed to sneak past Talos, but how?

Thankfully, the sage had foreseen this challenge and provided a solution. From within his pouch, Rychlen carefully retrieved a small bag attached to a thin string. According to the sage, lighting the string and throwing it toward Talos’ face would temporarily blind the giant.

Though skeptical, Rychlen lit the string and hurled it toward Talos’ fiery gaze. As instructed, the burning string obscured Talos’ vision just long enough for Rychlen to slip past unnoticed.

—

Through countless trials and tribulations, Rychlen descended further into the Underworld. The seven-layered Hell presented various challenges, but surprisingly, the third layer proved the most difficult due to an inexplicably powerful male guardian.

With the aid of earplugs and a compass-like device given by the sage, Rychlen managed to endure the haunting cries of suffering souls and navigate safely through the labyrinthine layers.

Finally, battered and bruised, Rychlen stood before the final gate of the Underworld. Beyond it awaited the gods of death themselves.

If they decreed his demise, there would be no resistance—his body and soul would be torn apart instantly. Yet, Rychlen trusted himself—and more importantly, he trusted the sage’s promise that the gods would grant him the means to revive his fallen friend.

Pushing open the heavy door, Rychlen entered.

—

Inside was a courtroom carved entirely from black stone. Seated at its center were three figures:

Thanatos, King of the Grim Reapers, wielding a massive scythe and embodying pure darkness.

Moros, Judge of the Underworld, holding a ledger of lifespans and a mirror reflecting one’s deeds.

Keres, Goddess of Half-Life, balancing scales to weigh souls while clutching a sword for judgment.

The three deities regarded Rychlen with cold indifference. A living being standing before them in the deepest reaches of the Underworld was unprecedented since its creation.

Any one of them could snuff out his existence in an instant, yet none moved to do so. Instead, they gestured toward a corridor behind them, carved from polished black stone so reflective it mirrored Rychlen’s image perfectly.

Suspicious at first, Rychlen soon realized these gods wouldn’t waste time on trivial matters. Trusting their intent, he followed their silent command and entered the corridor.

As he walked, Rychlen noticed something peculiar: alongside his reflection appeared the silhouette of a girl with dark hair. Though invisible in reality, she existed vividly within the mirrored walls, her presence growing clearer with each step.