Novel Full Chapter 768 - 768 Ferryman
768 Ferryman
....768 Ferryman
Lumian nodded, his right hand naturally falling on the Traveler’s Bag.
He then walked over to the dilapidated, gloomy boat, noticing the severely decayed boatman turning aside to make way, as if signaling for him to hurry aboard.
“Can you ferry me across the Styx?” Lumian asked politely in Dutanese.
Given that the former Death hailed from the Southern Continent, Lumian figured that speaking Dutanese might be more readily accepted by “all parties” in the Underworld.
After all, in an environment so rich with the stench of death that a living person couldn’t last a second, using mystical languages like ancient Hermes, which could manipulate natural forces, might have unexpected effects. For instance, merely uttering the words “River Styx” could forge a strong connection with the dark, ethereal river before him, possibly causing it to whip up a massive wave and sweep him away.
The boatman, its eye sockets filled with thick blood vessels and oozing yellow pus, faced the river, wide enough that the opposite bank was out of sight, and remained motionless.
It seemed it was answering Lumian with his actions:
Why would you try to communicate with a corpse?
I can’t hear you, nor can I make a sound.
It seems ordinary language won’t do… I’ve heard that the Death pathway includes a Language of the Dead, but unfortunately, I don’t speak it… Lumian muttered to himself quietly as he let his eyes take on a silver-black hue and slowly stepped onto the rickety, gloomy boat.
In his Eye of Calamity, the boatman’s destiny was pure black, dead and void, showing no signs of change.
Does this mean no matter how much the boatman struggles, it can’t change its status as a corpse, and its only fate is to wither away with time until even its existence vanishes?
But that doesn’t mean the boatman can’t do anything during this time before its demise. Its actions can still affect the fates of others, including mine and other undead beings. From this perspective, the boatman, or rather the summoned undead, should still have a destiny, only that the outcome cannot be changed…
Indeed, they have destinies, but my current rank isn’t high enough to see them, is it? After all, objects have destinies too, but I can’t see them now…
It might also be that the destinies of the dead need to interact with others to manifest in the destinies of those others…
Perhaps because he had temporarily become an undead himself, Lumian couldn’t help but ponder the destinies of these “residents” of the Underworld.
With the mystical knowledge he currently possessed, he couldn’t define destiny precisely, nor did he know how much the mercury river of fate encompassed, or whether there were unseen aspects or hidden parts he wasn’t aware of yet.
He felt there must be, which stemmed from a few simple questions:
Could it be that by donning the Eggers family’s golden mask and becoming an undead, the river of fate that still existed for me simply disappears, turning utterly black and void?
And when I take off the mask, does the river of fate instantly return?
What then is the river of fate? A plaything at our disposal?
Although the golden mask of the Eggers family was made by Death, it didn’t contain Beyonder characteristics and was only of a higher rank.
It surely wasn’t simple enough to manipulate the river of fate so easily!
Later on, if there’s a chance, I should have a Monster pathway Beyonder observe my fate to see the changes before and after donning the golden mask…
Uh… never mind, unless I find a demigod-level Monster pathway Beyonder, otherwise it would only harm them. Even when I had only Mr. Fool’s seal, the false angelic rank, and the residual aura of the Blood Emperor, the patrol team’s ‘machine’ Kolobo from Port Pylos was already too afraid to look at me, thinking it would bring him great danger. Now, I have also added the Underworld Daoist’s seal and Omebella’s bloodline…
Lumian positioned himself at the center of the battered boat, allowing the golden mask to turn his eyes iron-black.
He wanted to preemptively spot the boatman’s weaknesses to prepare for any potential mishaps.
At that moment, the highly decayed boatman began to row, slowly steering the dark boat towards the other side of the surreal, shadowy river.
His body was entirely cloaked in dark colors, and Lumian struggled to find any sign of a vulnerable pale spot amid the black.
Of course, these dark colors also meant that the boatman was completely vulnerable to sunlight and lightning.
The next second, Knight of Swords Maric’s voice rang in Lumian’s ears: “Its weaknesses might not be here.”
Not here? What do you mean they’re not here? Can weaknesses be separated from the person? Just as Lumian was filled with intense curiosity, he remembered several stories his sister had once told him.
In those stories, a type of monster called a lich would create phylacteries and hide them in heavily protected, secret places. As long as the phylacteries were not found and destroyed, the lich would not truly die, effectively separating its fatal weakness from itself.
(Amonoculus’ note: phylactery ⌜ either of two small square leather boxes containing slips inscribed with scriptural passages and traditionally worn on the left arm and on the head by observant Jewish men and especially adherents of Orthodox Judaism during morning weekday prayers.)
And in the twenty-two paths of the divine, such things were hardly surprising.
The Knight of Swords continued, “Were you trying to discern its fate earlier?”
“It holds a considerable rank; this is a dangerous endeavor.”
A considerable rank? Lumian glanced at the boatman, draped in tattered clothes and highly decayed flesh, unable to see anything particularly formidable about it.
However, the fact that it could ferry across the River Styx without sinking into it certainly suggested something extraordinary.
Lumian diverted his gaze, closely watching the boatman’s every move, patiently waiting as the dilapidated boat made its way across the River Styx to the opposite shore.
The battered boat rocked slowly, as if it might fall apart at any moment, taking what felt like an eternity to reach the middle of the river.
Suddenly, the highly decayed boatman raised its long oar and turned toward Lumian.
As the gloomy boat came to a halt, the boatman’s mouth abruptly opened, splitting down to its decayed chest, its hollowed-out navel, and further down to its groin.
Its body unfolded like a coat unbuttoning, stretching out to the sides, revealing no darkened organs or bones of its own, but rather a heap of half-melted, decayed limbs.
Once again, Lumian felt a chill that made him shudder, daring not to harbor any thoughts of resistance.
He clenched his right hand, which had been ready.
He grasped the Sword of Courage from the Traveler’s Bag, holding the hilt of the iron-black broadsword.
Courage swiftly filled Lumian’s body, prompting a manic smile on his face.
What is there to fear from a mere boatman?
Even if Death Himself stood before me, I would strike Him down with my sword!
Lumian drew his broadsword, now ablaze with white-blue flames, and slashed fiercely at the boatman, who was lunging at him with its skin peeled open.
With a thud, the Sword of Courage cut through the pile of melting limbs in the boatman’s stomach and struck the layer of rotting skin riddled with holes behind its chest.
But the broadsword failed to split the seemingly fragile, decayed skin.
As Lumian readied a second strike, one accompanied by a massive explosion, the boatman swiftly recoiled, slowly closing its opened chest and abdomen.
At the same time, the voice of the Knight of Swords rang in Lumian’s ears: “Stop. We’ve got it under control”
“This is our chance to finish it off!” Lumian responded without hesitation.
He and the Knight of Swords were communicating in Intis.
The Knight of Swords paused for a second and said, “I know, you’re not afraid of it, and you could kill it, but if it dies, we can’t cross the River Styx.”
Seeing Lumian calm down a bit, the Knight of Swords added, “Besides, killing it won’t grant you any Beyonder characteristics. It’s merely the skin of the true Ferryman. It seems to have been consuming other corpses, trying to regain a body but never succeeding.”
Lumian accepted the Knight of Swords’ explanation.
Having courage didn’t mean being deaf to others’ words, it’s just selectively ignoring dangerous warnings.
He then placed the Sword of Courage back among the ordinary straight swords in the Traveler’s Bag.
This time, he didn’t feel the post-event fear because this was the purpose of using the Sword of Courage. The only thing he feared was:
A demigod’s skin has been peeled off? What in hell happened in the Underworld back then?
Lumian watched as the boatman slowly and struggle-fully pinched together the split skin and rotting flesh on its chest, like buttoning up a coat.
Following this, the boatman plunged its long, dark, decayed oar into the surreal shadowy River Styx, moving it at an even slower pace as if resisting something.
Has the demigod of the temperance faction possessed the boatman, forcefully taking control and making it continue to row? It looks like this control is met with strong resistance… Lumian remained ready to draw the Sword of Courage again in case of any unforeseen incidents.
As the gloomy boat rocked its way towards the opposite shore of the Styx, Lumian, having nothing better to do, started a conversation with the Knight of Swords.
“I saw the entire Underworld as a series of descending layers earlier. Crossing the Styx should just get us to the other side of this layer, so why did you say it’s like entering deep into the Underworld?”
The Knight of Swords simply replied, “The geography of the Underworld doesn’t completely align with the real world. According to the many notes of the Eggers family, there are two ways to enter the depths of the Underworld. The first is to descend layer by layer through the worlds encircling the Styx, which are used to punish sinners, ultimately arriving at the realm where the Blessed of Death reside. The second is to cross the Styx directly.”
“Is that so…” Lumian mused aloud, “So, our destination is the realm once inhabited by the Blessed of Death?”
The Knight of Swords paused for a second and said, “Death’s palace should be there as well.”
The palace of the former Death? Lumian’s eyelids twitched at the thought.
As he and the Knight of Swords alternated between silence and conversation, the boundary on the other side of the Styx finally came into view.