Hell Gate

Imhotep himself did not know how long he had been dead.

Within the endless Underworld River, there were only countless wailing souls and those cold, emotionless beings that did not seem intelligent, yet managed everything.

Imhotep was a cursed man. No matter how noble his status had once been, he was now nothing more than a wandering ghost unable even to cross the Underworld River.

The years relentlessly eroded his soul, yet he retained all his consciousness and memories. He remembered the inhuman suffering he had endured before his death, and he remembered the woman he loved dying before his eyes.

The Underworld River was lonely. Here, Imhotep did not even have anyone to talk to.

Other than the endless wailing, Imhotep could not hear any other sounds. He truly wished his soul would simply be worn away, but because of that damned curse, he had no way to make it happen. He could only wait for time to slowly grind down his soul—or for someone to break his seal and bring him back to life once more.

Who knew how many years passed? Just as Imhotep himself had become utterly numb, a terrifying power suddenly made the entire Underworld River tremble!

The river water, forged from countless souls, began to boil. Many souls crossing the river fell in, including the ferrymen!

In Imhotep’s eyes, these ferrymen were likely higher beings created by the gods—demigod-like lifeforms with no self-awareness. Yet at this moment, Imhotep clearly saw them trembling! It was fear. Their fear was so great that they could not even hold their oars steady!

The terrifying power continued. Imhotep felt as though he heard a voice, one that sounded exceptionally young yet as ancient as eternity.

Suddenly, Imhotep saw a phantom slowly gathering. This phantom seemed to make the entire Underworld River boil even more fiercely.

As if answering Imhotep’s guess, when the phantom completely solidified and illuminated the entire Underworld River, Imhotep saw that it looked very young, just like the voice he had heard before.

But the phantom’s eyes were filled only with indifference, an indifference that seemed capable of freezing the entire Underworld River.

"Truly terrifying! Could this be a god?"

Imhotep muttered to himself, but he soon realized that his soul was beginning to move beyond his control!

A mysterious black energy completely wrapped around his soul and rapidly carried it toward a massive black gate that had formed at some unknown time!

Imhotep felt himself lose consciousness. Though he knew that, as a cursed soul, he should not possess such a thing, he could clearly sense that he had lost all ability to act. He was enveloped by a beam of black light with a silver core, and in the end, he completely lost consciousness.

Who knew how long passed? An instant, or a century? Imhotep suddenly felt that he could move again!

He could even hear sounds and speak. He could feel the breeze brushing against him. He had not experienced such sensations for who knew how many years; he had even believed he had forgotten them.

If not for the fact that, deep in his heart, Imhotep had always remembered a woman named Anck-su-namun—the woman who had chosen suicide so that he could escape—he would likely have been tortured to death by the endless loneliness of the Underworld River.

Imhotep slowly adjusted to it all. His hearing, sight, and senses had returned. He could even feel touch again. Most importantly, at this moment, he felt endless power within his body—a terrifying power capable of destroying everything!

"Is this the power brought by the curse?"

Imhotep slowly sensed the power within his body. It was power he could never have obtained even if he had spent his entire life pursuing it while alive!

With this power, Imhotep believed that he could certainly resurrect the woman he loved. He might even be able to take revenge on the Pharaoh’s Guards who had made him suffer!

Anck-su-namun, wait for me! I’ll bring you back to life soon!

Imhotep was overwhelmed with excitement. He opened his mouth and let out a roar at the top of his lungs! He was simply too excited. He had waited far too many years—or rather, he had never expected to live again at all!

"Looks like we can skip the part about helping this guy regain his vitality. Everything seems pretty normal, except he’s roaring way too loudly."

But just as he struggled to contain his excitement, he suddenly heard a familiar and rather grating voice. Not that the voice itself sounded unpleasant; on the contrary, it was rather appealing. It had simply interrupted Imhotep’s excited mood.

Imhotep raised his head and looked toward the source of the voice. The moment he did, he froze.

Before him stood several young people, along with some unknown creature coiled in midair. Of course, none of that mattered. Even though several of those young people made him feel danger, his gaze fell entirely upon the short-haired blond youth holding the Book of the Dead.

Imhotep was almost certain that the one who had spoken was this young man, because what terrified him most was that the youth’s appearance was exactly the same as the phantom he had seen in the Underworld River!

This man… is he a god?

As Imhotep stared at Josh in fear, Josh stared back at Imhotep in some surprise.

He had no idea what reading the contents of the Book of the Dead aloud with magic had done to this world’s Underworld River. Of course, even if Josh had known, he probably would not have cared much.

Josh sensed magic close to the fourth tier within Imhotep. For this world, it was indeed quite powerful, but honestly, it was not much in Josh’s eyes.

At the fourth tier, he could probably only bully Alexios in their current group.

Thinking back on Imhotep’s magical abilities, he seemed able to control wild sands and cast something similar to a Meteor Fire Rain spell. As for plagues and disasters, those seemed to be as instinctive to him as breathing.

Of course, plagues and disasters seemed to be instinctive to practically all undead creatures.

Imhotep now looked no different from a living person, but Josh could see him clearly. Imhotep was something like a creature wandering between life and death, though he leaned more toward death. Simply put, he was an undead.

"Could it be that the Egyptians built pyramids not only to commemorate great people, but also to seal things like this inside them? Cursed things that would wreak havoc on the world as soon as they came back to life? Those Ancient Egyptians really only thought about the present and not the future."

After casually making that remark, Josh walked straight toward Imhotep.

What Josh had not expected was that Imhotep actually took a step back upon seeing him approach. Fear and unease slowly appeared on his face, as though he had seen some terrifying creature.

"Tell me, can you understand what I’m saying? And what’s with that expression?"

Imhotep’s reaction forced Josh to stop. He tried asking Imhotep in English, but the answer was obvious. Imhotep looked utterly confused and frightened as he stared at Josh, forcing Josh to consider another method.

"Are you an idiot? How could this guy possibly know English? Even if he were going to learn it, that would take time. Don’t you know how to use his language?" Akathosh rolled his eyes in midair.

"Undead Whisper? I don’t know that."

"You stupid donkey! What language did you use when you resurrected him? Just use that one! Besides, this thing already has language ability. Do you really think he would still speak Undead Whisper? Or you could simply establish a Mental Link with him."

"Establish a Mental Link with an undead? Forget it. Just remembering what he looked like before makes me sick. Do you think that’s possible?"

Josh decisively shook his head. Though it was strange that Imhotep was afraid of him, and though Josh was very curious, he had no intention of establishing a Mental Link with an undead. Josh had only just begun learning Ancient Egyptian, but he figured he should be able to manage a simple conversation.

"Can you understand what I’m saying now?"

"Y-yes. Are you a god?"

The moment Imhotep heard Josh speaking to him in a familiar language, the fear on his face immediately vanished, replaced by fervor.

It was the kind of fervor an ordinary person would show upon meeting the god they worshipped, and it made Josh’s scalp tingle.

"That has nothing to do with you. Since you can understand me, that makes things easier. There are some things I need you to—"

"Honored god, thank you for resurrecting me!"

Before Josh could finish speaking, Imhotep dropped to his knees. From the look of it, he was probably about to perform some ritual like prostrating himself beside his master and kissing the ground. Josh was left speechless. He had not even done anything, so why did this guy think he was a god?

Garen and the others were dumbfounded as well. In the end, Garen could not take it any longer and turned to Evelyn. "What are they saying?"

Evelyn was briefly stunned too, but she quickly answered, "The resurrected mummy thinks Lord Josh is a god."

"That’s normal. It’s not like this is the first time someone has mistaken him for a god. I mean, besides that?"

"Apparently, nothing else."

Evelyn was rather helpless. Her brother Jonathan and O’Connor wore the same expressions. Who could have imagined that the demon said to be capable of destroying the world, the one guarded for over three thousand years by the descendants of the Pharaoh whom Josh had thoroughly beaten outside, would be like this?

Where was the demon they had been promised? Where was the destroyer of worlds?

He had seemed terrifying at first, but now he looked like a docile kitten. Were they sure this guy could really be the legendary demon capable of destroying the world?

"And what does it mean that this isn’t the first time Lord Josh has been mistaken for a god? Was he regarded as a god before? Though a being like him really isn’t much different from a god!"