Anubis Descends
The air itself began to hum with gathering power.
Baek-bo Myeol-hwang Gong
Fifth Step: Hellfire Thunder God Spear
A flash lit the underground.
Then a colossal thunderbolt—large enough to swallow two or three buildings whole—came screaming down onto the summoning circle.
Canteas, for his part, poured out the strongest black magic he could still command.
A dark roar answered him.
“Oh?! Is it working?”
Anubis’s crown had just begun to show above the circle; the twin assaults made the emerging head freeze for a heartbeat.
“No. It’s useless.”
At Canteas’s words Baek Do-ha simply shook his head.
Anubis had not flinched from the hits.
The circle’s too small. He’s forcing the entrance wider.
Only now did Do-ha understand: the Pope’s clone had not carried mere residual thoughts. A fragment of the Pope’s own soul had been sealed inside it. That soul bore the Demon God’s blessing, and the cult had burned even that fragment to hasten Anubis’s arrival.
Truly, the word madman fit the Pope like a second skin. He had been willing to spend pieces of his own soul for the sake of the cult’s ritual.
A sound like tearing silk ripped through the air. Canteas’s brow furrowed.
“Ugh…”
It was the same ear-splitting boom a fighter jet made when it shattered the sound barrier.
“Do-ha, hit him again.”
“No. Better wait until more of him is out.”
If the Pope’s soul truly powered the circle, the Demon God’s blessing was still shielding it. Further attacks would only waste strength.
The ground heaved. Cracks raced across the ceiling; clods of earth began to rain down. Carving out so vast an underground chamber had left nothing to support the roof, and Anubis’s emergence only added violent tremors. Collapse was inevitable.
Dirt poured in earnest. Canteas finally swept his staff and erased the entire mass of earth above them. Once the real fight began the ceiling would vanish anyway; better to clear the sky now than let falling rubble blind them mid-battle.
“Well done.”
With the sky open overhead, Do-ha drew Un-jeop-bi-jang. The moment Anubis’s body cleared the circle far enough, the Demon God’s blessing would judge its purpose complete and fade.
That’s when I strike.
A low, insistent vibration reached him. Do-ha tilted his head, still gripping the staff-sword.
“Looks like your phone’s ringing.”
“I left my phone behind.”
“Same here.”
They stared at each other. Then what was humming like a phone on vibrate?
Do-ha opened a subspace pocket. Something tumbled out, still buzzing.
“What— is the Heaven-Cleaving Blood Demon Sword crying right now?”
The legendary blade of the Blood Sect lay on the ground, resonating hard enough to shake.
“Didn’t you say this wasn’t an ego sword?”
“It isn’t. But it can still resonate.”
“Don’t tell me… with Anubis?”
“More precisely, with the death energy and the reek of blood pouring off him.”
Do-ha stooped and closed his hand around the hilt.
At the same instant two enormous arms thrust up from the summoning circle and slammed palms-first onto the earth.
“Finally…”
Anubis’s head cleared the rim. A suffocating aura flooded the chamber—the presence he had waited so long to unleash.
Do-ha tapped Canteas lightly on the shoulder. The lich’s knuckles were white around his staff; the whole arm trembled.
“Nervous?”
“N-nervous? Don’t be ridiculous…”
Canteas tried for bravado, but his voice shook. In truth he wanted nothing more than to sink to his knees. Pride alone kept him upright.
“It’s not weird. Don’t be embarrassed.”
Do-ha gave the shoulder a firm squeeze. They were facing a god—an entirely new realm. Fear rising from the marrow was only natural. Every deity carried a unique signature; the Demon God had possessed one, Anubis another, even the immortals. Higher beings called that signature Divine Status. The oppressive weight rolling off Anubis now was exactly that.
Divine Status or not, anyone would tremble under killing intent this thick.
Anyone except Do-ha. He had already crossed blades with a Demon God stronger than this jackal. A lesser god held no terror for him.
As Anubis’s head fully emerged, Do-ha shifted his grip on the Heaven-Cleaving Blood Demon Sword and drew power into the blade.
Anubis, still smiling as he rose, finally noticed the distant figure among the carpet of corpses.
“What are you looking at.”
Myeol-hwang Sword Technique
Thirteenth Form: Falling Petals
A colossal sword of pure qi took shape high above and plummeted toward Anubis’s skull. With the ceiling already gone, the technique had a clear path.
Anubis jerked his head aside. The blade missed his crown—but buried itself deep in his right shoulder.
“Kyaaaak! What the hell is this?!”
Blood sheeted down the jackal god’s arm. He had only just planted both hands and begun to haul himself free; the embedded sword threatened to drag him back into the circle.
Do-ha walked closer, unhurried.
“Just as I thought. The moment your body started coming out, the protection vanished.”
“…You?”
Anubis’s eyes widened. At a distance he had not known the man; up close recognition struck like a hammer.
“Seeing you in the flesh, I understand. You are the Absolute Being—Baek Do-ha.”
“Wow. The God of the Underworld himself recognizes me. I’m flattered.”
“Was it you who attacked me?”
“That’s right.”
“Fighting the Demon God must have robbed you of all fear. You dare strike a god? This is our first meeting, yet you show such insolence.”
“The second you crawled into bed with the cult, you became my enemy.”
“We made a contract, not crawled into bed.”
“That’s exactly what crawling into bed means.”
Baek-bo Myeol-hwang Gong
Seventh Step: Heaven-Suppressing Demon Emperor Art
Pressure slammed down like a collapsing mountain. Corpses burst into red mist. Anubis himself was forced several handspans back into the circle.
“Kugh! Stop!”
“Don’t crawl out. Go back in.”
“Why are you interfering?! I am not here to slaughter humans!”
Anubis roared. He was a god of the underworld—would he butcher mortals for sport? He merely sought something that belonged to him.
“Your words are hilarious. The same guy who was ready to sacrifice over a hundred million people?”
“A hundred million? What are you—”
Memory hit. Anubis’s eyes widened again.
“Remembered, huh?”
“Blame the cult for that! Why are you grilling me?”
“Ah, so it has nothing to do with you? Wow. You’re completely insane.”
Baek-bo Myeol-hwang Gong
Third Step: Heavenly Manifest Vajra
Six colossal arms of golden force erupted behind Do-ha’s back.
“From ancient times they said stray ghosts that crawl out of the underworld must be beaten down.”
“You dare call me a stray ghost?!”
“Shut up.”
One vajra fist streaked forward and smashed into Anubis’s skull. Blood sprayed.
“You bastard! I will not forgive this!”
Forced to slip farther, Anubis finally unleashed his full aura. He had held back—releasing power before complete descent risked shattering the circle—but the human kept climbing over him.
Tsk. As expected of a god—no real damage.
The released divinity shoved the golden arms backward. Yet brute force was not the only path.
Two more vajra hands shot out and locked around Anubis’s wrists. The god was hauling himself up by both arms; that meant the ground beneath his feet dropped away into emptiness.
Anubis roared and tore one arm free, flinging a vajra aside. Even a construct that could uproot entire buildings could not hold him. Truly divine.
“Did you think I would keep taking this?”
He flicked his fingers. Magic flared. Thousands of mummies clawed their way out of the earth.
“Canteas.”
“My turn?!”
Canteas slammed his staff down. Death Knights, Dullahan, ghouls, and skeletons erupted in answer—three times the number of Anubis’s mummies. Against a god, half-measures were suicide.
“A Lich? Aah… I see. I know you as well. Canteas, the so-called King of the Underworld.”
“What—why are you pouring killing intent at me so blatantly?”
Anubis’s glare made Canteas flinch. They had never even met; why the pure hatred?
“How dare a mere mortal claim the arrogant title of King of the Underworld.”
“I never went around calling myself that, you dog-headed bastard.”
“Wh—what? Dog-headed?!”
The insult struck Anubis like a physical blow. Never in all his existence had a mortal spoken to him so.
“Hmph. Go.”
Canteas snorted and raised his staff. His undead legion charged as one. Mummies and walking dead collided; the underground became a battlefield of clashing bone and rotting flesh.
“Need a hand?”
“Don’t worry. Trash like that I can handle alone.”
Canteas waved Do-ha off. God of the Underworld or not, no one living understood the dead better than he did.
“Do-ha.”
“Yeah?”
“Watch closely. I’ll show you something new.”
For the first time Canteas gripped the staff with both hands and drove it straight into the ground. A vast magic circle bloomed; black mana flooded outward.
“Come forth.”
A magic that could be cast only at the absolute peak of the Eighth Circle—summoning a true Reaper. Originally a Seventh-Circle spell, successive refinements had made it so complex and demanding that only the highest edge of the Eighth Circle could now call it.
Behind Canteas a towering black silhouette took shape, a colossal scythe already resting in its skeletal hands.
“Y-you… how did you…”
Anubis’s eyes shook. A Reaper that radiated such murderous presence… Canteas had already set one foot across the threshold of Divine Status.