Erwin gazed at the tranquil lake before him.
Legend held that the Underworld was the realm of the departed. Every life, at the moment of death, was drawn by the authority of Death itself. Guided by this power, they entered the Underworld. In this world, there was no concept of reincarnation. Souls—whether they originated from the Western Underworld or Eastern Fengdu—eventually converged in this singular realm.
Over countless ages, these souls would gradually dissipate, transforming into pure energy that replenished the Underworld's fundamental structure.
For the living to enter the Underworld was generally considered impossible. The two realms were like overlapping dimensions, occupying entirely different planes of existence.
However, there were always exceptions. Erwin knew of an era when certain individuals had managed to cross the boundary, entering the Underworld to retrieve something specific.
The method to enter Fengdu was complex and ritualistic, but the path to the Underworld was singular: the River Styx.
In the original tale of the Deathly Hallows, the three brothers traveled along a secluded, narrow path until they reached a riverbank. There, they encountered Death. That river was the Styx.
The body of water before Erwin was, indeed, the Styx. Under normal circumstances, however, it appeared as nothing more than an ordinary river—a safety measure preventing accidental crossings. It only revealed its true nature when Death summoned it using its authority.
Erwin did not possess the complete authority of Death, but he had another method.
He drew his newly enhanced wand and waved it deliberately. A chilling aura emanated from him, almost identical to that of the Grim Reaper. Had there been any spectators, they would have been profoundly stunned. Fortunately, Ravenclaw was already secured within the sealed Crown Space, deep in protected slumber. While her power was considerable, the Underworld's influence could still affect a spirit; Erwin was ensuring her absolute safety.
As the icy aura spread methodically, the water before him began to churn. A dilapidated wooden boat slowly rose from the murky depths.
Erwin boarded the decrepit vessel without hesitation. The boat began to move autonomously, paddling toward the center of the water. As it progressed, the surrounding scenery transformed. Darkness and desolation consumed the landscape, with black mist drifting intermittently across the surface. Erwin glanced at it but remained unfazed; he had anticipated this environment.
The wooden boat rocked rhythmically on the water. He couldn't determine how much time had elapsed. Eventually, a sharp sound echoed from beneath the vessel. They had reached the opposite shore.
Erwin stepped onto the ground. Immediately, sharp wails erupted. Dark figures charged toward him from the shadows.
Erwin released another wave of chilling aura. The spectral entities screamed and retreated instantly. He glanced down at his wand, thinking, The power I've appropriated seems somewhat insufficient. I need to accelerate.
As he ventured deeper into the Underworld, a vast graveyard materialized. The aura shrouding his destination confirmed he was in the correct location. Erwin walked toward the cemetery, but just then, a massive figure lunged at him.
With a casual wave of his hand, the creature froze in place. Erwin turned to face a fully grown Cerberus—Death's three-headed guardian. The beast regarded him with obvious confusion, sensing the aura of Death despite Erwin's mortal appearance.
Erwin ignored the creature. Its potential was too limited, even as a servant of Death. He walked directly into the depths of the cemetery, which was vast yet contained only a single, solitary tombstone.
Erwin approached it. The stone bore no inscriptions but was shrouded in swirling black mist. This was the vessel of Death's authority. After Death's elimination, the authority had returned here. Left undisturbed, it would eventually birth a new being to bear the mantle.
Erwin's purpose was explicit: he intended to claim Death's authority for himself.
Without hesitation, he placed his hand on the tombstone.
Chilling energy surged into his body. The black mist boiled violently, releasing bone-penetrating cold, yet Erwin's expression remained unchanged. His face, however, gradually paled, betraying the strain beneath his composed exterior.
Time passed indeterminately. Eventually, the black mist ceased its turbulent swirling. Erwin slowly withdrew his hand and opened his palm. A scythe materialized in his grasp—a manifestation of power. He examined it briefly before waving his hand, causing the scythe to disintegrate into particles.
The weapon was merely a form. It could manifest as a scythe, an axe, or even a staff. Now, the power resided within Erwin himself, ready to be commanded at will. Additionally, he sensed a faint connection to the Underworld's structure. With a single thought, he could now depart or return freely.
Reappearing at the riverbank where he had initially arrived, Erwin activated the power of the Grim Reaper and began systematically searching the Underworld.
Within moments, a specific soul was located. Erwin waved his hand, and the spirit slowly coalesced before him.