novelraw Chapter 139: The Name of Death is Mictlan
Chapter 139: The Name of Death is Mictlan
"Oh, so it is just as I thought. A Divine Warrior created with only a speck of God Power still has its limits!" Bai Yang sat atop a tank, casually critiquing the battlefield unfolding before him.
The Divine Warrior he had crafted using a small amount of God Power appeared somewhat overwhelmed by the onslaught of a modern military. This actually made him raise his estimation of modern armed forces slightly.
Alvin chimed in, "These people's application of sacrifices and Wish Power is clearly shallower than Father Angus's. It seems the guidance of a Godhood and the inheritance of knowledge are quite useful after all!"
"That knowledge is inherently the manifestation of Wish Power, so of course it is useful!" Bai Yang nodded. "Given enough time, they could probably figure out a viable way to channel Wish Power on their own..."
"That is what will happen after the future Divine Pantheon is established! As for now, let the world bear witness to the realm of death!"
Before his eyes, the smoke and dust finally cleared...
...
Amidst the dissipating smoke, several more artillery shells rained down, landing squarely on Ivan. The blasts inflicted even more grievous wounds, leaving his battered frame swaying and on the verge of collapse.
Yet, even in this precarious state, he continued to march forward. Facing the vast army, he unleashed a furious, defiant roar!
"Those who profane innocent children shall be punished! This is the will of the gods!"To many onlookers, such a roar undoubtedly seemed like the desperate death throes of a doomed man.
But it was precisely this desperate struggle that made even more people feel an ever-growing sense of terror!
Exactly what kind of power and willpower allowed this man—who in countless records was described as incredibly cowardly and entirely devoid of redeeming qualities—to erupt with strength rivaling a War God?
And what kind of spirit drove him to relentlessly press forward, even under the looming threat of death?
The short-sighted could only see his impending defeat, but those with far-reaching vision were already glimpsing a terrifying future!
If all the original inhabitants possessed this kind of unyielding willpower, just how horrifying and dreadful would that be?
Would they really be able to achieve ultimate victory in this conflict?
Panic set in for many, yet they had no idea what to do.
However, these existential thoughts did not halt the actions on the battlefield. Following another sharp command from the commanding officer, heavy machine guns opened fire.
Under the relentless barrage of thousands of rounds per minute, the muscles binding Ivan's body together slowly began to strip away.
His flesh and blood were torn away, and his body was gradually reduced to a skeletal frame, causing all the figures watching from behind the scenes to let out a slow sigh of relief.
This monster was finally dead!
"Good that he is dead! It is good that he is dead!" Even the typically boastful Governor of Alabama slowly exhaled in relief. Heaven knew just how much pressure he had been under when he issued the order to attack.
Now, it seemed he had truly succeeded!
"A deceased Transcendent Being... The value of such a thing is incalculable!" he muttered. "Major, I order you to bring this man's bones back to me! Bring them back to Birmingham!"
"Governor, I would very much like to do so, but he isn't dead yet!"
"Not dead? How is that possible? He has been stripped down to a bare skeleton!" The Governor refused to accept it. He glanced at the screen and witnessed a sight that chilled him to the bone:
On the live feed, the cameraman's hands were visibly shaking, because that skeletal frame was still moving!
The surface of the bones seemed to be cloaked in Ivan's Soul, allowing his facial features to flicker faintly over the skull, appearing both ethereal and ever-present!
"A Divine Warrior will never surrender, and will never flee!" His voice echoed in the ears of every single person present, plunging them all into deep, creeping dread!
They never could have imagined that under such impossibly dire circumstances, with all of his flesh entirely obliterated, this Transcendent Being was still alive!
He was no longer a living man; he was an undead spirit—a mere skeleton, yet a specter brimming with absolute, unyielding resolve!
Fear spread through the ranks like a plague. Many soldiers subconsciously lowered their weapons.
After all, what could they possibly do against an enemy that couldn't even be killed by artillery shells?
Faced with this situation, the commanding officer was paralyzed with panic. He stared at the direction the skeleton was marching, his face pale with terror. "Don't come for me! Stop him, quickly!"
A tank rolled directly into the skeleton's path, attempting to block his advance, but they had severely miscalculated!
Even as a skeleton, Ivan still possessed monstrous, exaggerated strength. He gripped the tank that tried to run him down and flipped it aside with both bare, skeletal hands. Now, there were no more obstacles between him and the commander's vehicle!
The commander's eyes widened to the point of tearing. He screamed frantically, "Drive! Drive the car!"
But his vehicle remained completely motionless. By the time he realized what was happening, he found that everyone from the driver to the rest of the crew had already fled!
Having realized that their superior was the skeleton's target, they naturally had no intention of dying alongside him. They had bolted at lightning speed.
The skeleton grabbed the stiff, paralyzed commander. With a swift turn, he hoisted the man up and dragged him before the remains of the children. Snatching up a random Wooden Stick from the ground, he ruthlessly impaled him.
Then, in the public spotlight, he chanted in a remarkably ancient language:
"By the supreme divine decree, the Sacrifice... begins!" It was an incredibly ancient tongue, yet astonishingly, everyone—even those sitting far away in front of their screens—understood the words perfectly, regardless of whether they wanted to or not.
Ivan raised his obsidian knife and sliced the commander from top to bottom. Then, meeting the commander's bewildered gaze, he drove the blade straight through his heart!
"Ghk... ah..." The Major never could have imagined that the mission he had eagerly volunteered for to secure a promotion and a raise would instead become the final moments of his life.
No one paid any mind to his death, because the moment Ivan finished delivering the fatal strike, he dropped to his knees. Facing the pile of white bones before him, he began his prayer:
"O little eagles, imprisoned by iron bars—"
A peculiar wind began to howl through the air, weeping and echoing like the mournful sobs of children.
It was the phantom pain of the deceased children, lingering in the very atmosphere...
"Please gather your broken wing bones; the ferry of Mictlan is already moored by the sulfur river!"
Fissures spiderwebbed across the ground before him, seeping with a dim, blood-red glow. Under the watchful gaze of everyone present, the earth fractured and split apart!
"The steps to the Nine Layers of Hell are paved with the skulls of our enemies—"
"Tread across this bridge forged of blood! Step upon these stairs built from sin!"
Blood surged violently from the commander's pierced chest, materializing in front of him to form what looked like a bridge made entirely of pure blood!
"You whose limbs were severed as you cowered in the kitchens,
You who were drowned in the filth of the washrooms,
You whose eyes were crushed in the crevices of the rooftop walls,
At this moment, let your bodies be reshaped within the golden dust cast by the eagle's wings!"
At that exact moment, Ivan's skeletal frame was engulfed by the surging tide of blood. It condensed into tangible flesh, rapidly regenerating his body!
The previously ethereal words grew immensely solid and resolute as his physical form reconstituted itself!
His roar pierced the heavens:
"Fly! Ride the cleansing path washed by the sulfur rain!"
"Fly! Toward the thirteenth heaven where the chariot of the sun gallops!"
The scattered bones suddenly began to emit a faint glow before instantly turning to ash. The ash rapidly drifted upward, swirling and dancing before their eyes like a flock of ten thousand birds taking flight!
"Smash the dog bowls in the ruins of Hatred,"
"And sink the monuments of shame into the molten sea of stardust!"
A crimson rift tore open right in front of them, expanding into a chasm dozens of meters long. Inside lay a terrifying domain where hues of red, yellow, and gray intertwined in chaotic turbulence.
At the far end of this domain, a massive gate materialized before the crowd. Its dreamlike purple luster seemed to silently declare to the world that this was the absolute realm of death!
Ivan had completely finished the reconstruction of his body. His voice now boomed, rich and piercing:
"The Spear of K'ak' Tiliw cleaves the curtain of the hurricane for you!
May you finally arrive at the cornfields free from eternal famine!
May you finally return to the embrace of the Feathered Serpent watched over by our ancestors!"
As his words fell, ethereal silhouettes of people who should have long since vanished suddenly appeared along that endless road.
It was a group of children with mangled and incomplete bodies. They walked carefully along the path, trudging forward step by painful step.
As they walked, their forms began to change. Severed limbs were restored, blurred faces were mended, and shattered bodies were made whole again.
By the time they reached the gates of death, every single one of them had regained their original appearance, transforming into healthy, unblemished Souls!
Beside the grand gate, another skeletal figure manifested at this very moment, revealing itself to the eyes of all!
It was a skeleton clutching a Scepter. It opened its toothless mouth as if laughing boisterously. Adorned with Owl Feathers and a Paper Crown on its head, it wore a Human Eyeball Necklace and Bone Earrings, and stepped lightly in Bone Sandals.
The moment he saw this figure, Professor Peyton Edwards, who was standing beside Nuland, cried out in shock, "That appearance... That is... Mictlantecuhtli!"
"What is that?" Nuland asked, her curiosity piqued.
"If death in our world means returning to Heaven and Hell, then in their culture, Mictlantecuhtli is the very embodiment of death itself!"
"It is the Lord of the Underworld, the God of Death, the ruler of the Nine Layers of Hell, and the most crucial entity among the seven gods of the underworld in Aztec mythology—the absolute master of Souls..." Peyton mumbled in a daze. "The most important part is that, according to numerous Stone Tablets and Spanish records, it is death itself!"
"The God of Death has arrived!"