Chapter 26: Embracing One Who Does Not Fear Death
Rowe had no idea what death actually felt like. After all, he had never truly gone through it.
But right now, he could feel the Underworld's aura seeping into this world.
Cold. Desolate. Quiet enough to make the soul sit up straight.
Yet it was not terrifying.
Instead, it brushed over him like a hand across the cheek, so gentle that it stirred an almost sinful urge to close his eyes and rest. Eternal slumber was also a form of passing away. And this was what Ereshkigal, Goddess of the Underworld, did more than anything else in Kur. She let the dead settle. Let them sleep. Let them become still.
The wind of the Underworld carried precisely that kind of harm to all living things.
Rowe had already become the Key of Heaven itself. In theory, that meant he could move freely in any environment without being crushed by it. He should not die from the Underworld's aura.
But after the last fiasco, he had learned his lesson. At the very least, he now understood the basics of turning that power on and off.
So this time, he shut it down.
He let the aura touch him directly. Let the cold seep into his bones. Let the sweetness of final rest press against his skin.
Of course, this alone would not be enough to make him vanish into sleep forever. Death, to Rowe, was always a transition and never a final deliverance.
Still, the moment his palm met that deep current of wind, his breathing steadied, and he kept walking forward.
Toward Ereshkigal.
His steps were firm. His eyes did not waver.
Even when the Underworld's cold wind began peeling at his flesh, decaying his appearance as if time itself had turned hostile. His skin slackened. His posture bent. In the blink of an eye, the young priest became an old man clawing at his last breath.
But I said it.
What I said was not a joke.
His meaning was obvious.
If you want to leave, you can.
Just take me with you.
Truly.
I want to die.
Rowe would not let this chance slip. A once in a lifetime opportunity did not come with return tickets.
And under that unwavering stride, Ereshkigal, now in control after Ishtar had retreated, could not help but falter.
Why was he doing this?
Even facing death, enduring Kur's erosion, suppressing any instinct to flee, he was still walking toward her, the one abandoned by the gods.
Ereshkigal raised a hand to cover her face. Her thoughts tangled into knots she could not loosen.
If Rowe knew what she was thinking right now, he would probably say something ridiculous like, No, you misunderstood. I am just sweet talking. You are not in my heart.
Unfortunately, Rowe had no way to read the mind of a goddess, let alone one cloaked behind layers of black wind and death.
So Ereshkigal misunderstood him thoroughly.
Her emotions churned, too complex to carve into words. Yet one conclusion kept pushing itself to the front.
She still could not meet him.
Through what Ishtar had left behind in this shared body, she already knew who Rowe was. The youngest divine priest of Uruk. The adjutant to the King of Uruk. Young, yes, but already woven into the fate of the living world, already standing in a place where history could see him.
He was not like her.
Death was solitary. Unlucky. Unwelcome.
Ereshkigal could not, and did not wish to, let him lose everything because of her.
What she did not know was that Rowe was enjoying this a little too much.
The further he stepped into the wind, the less pain he felt, and the more drowsiness rose from his failing body. He knew that if he continued, he would die before ever reaching her.
To die without pain.
To sleep and never wake.
Was that not exactly what he had always begged the world for?
The opportunity was rare. His steps hardened. His resolve sharpened.
And Ereshkigal's heart shook even more.
Stop.
Please stop.
Why go that far?
If he stopped now, the aura would no longer erode him. His body would recover. He would walk back to life as if this never happened.
Because Kur had been her home for so long, because she had spent ages among nothing but unconscious spirits and the quiet of death, Ereshkigal was, in truth, the gentlest goddess toward life. Even without any humanity mixed into her, she treated every soul with kindness.
Life or death, it did not matter.
She had never wanted to harm him.
She simply did not expect him to walk through death for her sake.
The worry in her chest twisted into something warmer.
No one had ever done this for her.
No one had ever treated death with such disdain for her.
A voice echoed inside her.
It sounded like her own, and yet not.
Ishtar, tucked somewhere within the body they shared, spoke with a tone that tried to be mocking and failed to hide its softness.
"He is good, is he not?"
"Even if he is a fool, that spirit is rare."
"Even the most devout believers do not ignore death for a god."
"He probably really likes you."
"Ereshkigal."
Ereshkigal knew.
Just from his actions alone, she could feel his intent.
Avoiding him was impossible now.
What should she do?
Ishtar clicked her tongue inside her head, sounding disgusted and strangely jealous all at once.
"You are wriggling around like this and you call yourself the Mistress of the Underworld?"
"Show the courage you had when you killed me, Ereshkigal."
Ereshkigal had once killed Ishtar.
When Ishtar had trespassed into Kur. Supposedly to accompany her. Supposedly out of sisterhood. But a dispute had flared from clumsy words and raw pride, and within the Underworld, a goddess died by another goddess's hand.
Anu later resurrected Ishtar, but the shadow remained.
Even now, Ishtar did not dare step into Kur again.
Back then, Ereshkigal had been decisive.
Back then.
Was she not longing for someone to stay with her?
So why should she avoid him now?
Ereshkigal's eyes widened.
She understood.
Thank you, Ishtar.
A haughty snort came from inside.
"It is nothing. Consider it a small compensation for what I said to you back then. For this goddess, it is easy."
Ereshkigal lifted her head.
Her crimson eyes pierced through the black soil and wind, fixing on the man walking forward. His body sagged. His hair whitened. His breathing grew heavy. Yet his steps did not slow.
Rowe saw that red light through the darkness.
He saw her eyes.
His entire body had withered into an old shell, and he was so happy he almost laughed.
Finally.
I am going to die.
Then the darkness in front of him vanished.
In a breath, the goddess hiding behind it revealed herself.
Golden hair swayed. A red mantle fluttered. Pale and full legs supported a graceful, delicate form. Tight black fabric traced the soft curve of her hips, her waist slender, her chest gentle and winding. Sharing the same vessel meant she looked identical to Ishtar, yet her aura was nothing like her sister's.
Deep.
Quiet.
So gentle it felt like being lowered into still water.
A girl who carried peace the way others carried weapons.
Rowe felt no peace at all.
Only confusion.
What are you doing?
Why did my body recover?
Bring back the Underworld aura, hurry.
Why are you hugging me?
Because Ereshkigal stepped forward and embraced him.
Softness flooded over his chest and shoulders.
Her arms opened wide, and she pressed herself into his embrace as if she were holding up the entire world with someone else's warmth.
At that moment, the girl who symbolized death finally found the courage to embrace the one who did not fear death.
[TL: Check out my new fanfic, Soul Land: Thunder Dragon God (Douluo Dalu).
Join Yu Tianlin of the Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan on his rise to the top no system, no shortcuts, just pure talent and hard earned power.
If you want classic Douluo energy with thunder dragon might, give it a read.]
<><><><><>
[Check Out My Patreon For +40 Advance Chapters On All My Fanfics!]
[[email protected]/FanficLord03]
[Every 100 Power Stones = +1 Bonus Chapter]
[Join Our Discord Community For Updates & Events]
[https://discord.gg/MntqcdpRZ9]