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Chapter 51
Chapter 51. The God of Death’s Rope
Fick carried the bucket, where the three crucian carp crowded together in the water, their tails slapping loudly.
Shulia walked ahead of him, following the riverbank past a cluster of Gothic buildings. The figures in the reeds still had not come out.
Shulia stopped before a high wall. It had been built from dark gray stone blocks and was covered in withered vines. Several pointed spires protruded above the top of the wall. Shulia pushed the vines aside, revealing a small door. It was iron-plated and mottled with rust.
She took out a key, opened the door, and slipped inside. Fick followed her in. The moment the door closed behind them, the light immediately dimmed.
Е.n u ṁȧ
Before them lay a narrow passage. Towering stone walls rose on both sides, their surfaces weathered and covered in moss. Flying buttresses arched overhead, crossing one another in rows of stone, cutting the sky into fragments. Light seeped through the gaps in thin strands.
The air was strangely cold. Shulia walked forward, and Fick followed her. At the end of the passage, the space suddenly opened up.
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On all four sides stood towering buildings, stacked layer upon layer, their tops invisible from below. The walls were densely covered in sculptures—thin, elongated angels, twisted monsters, winged beasts. Some had their mouths open, while others stretched out their claws.
At the very center was a massive rose window. Its mullions were black iron bars, coiling into intricate patterns, ring upon ring. The glass alternated between deep red and indigo. Sunlight passed through it, casting mottled patches of blue, purple, and red across the floor.
“The main building of the Saphile Empire’s Witch Association,” Shulia said. “I serve as the vice president inside.”
Fick tilted his head back and looked at the spires and flying buttresses. “Lady Shulia, if you have any other big-shot identities, would you please tell me all of them at once?”
W̌е̂ b́ n ŏ vѐl̊ Eñ um а̀
“My greatest identity is being the girlfriend of you, the number-one smart-mouthed noble in Saphile.” Shulia tugged the dazed Fick and walked along the edge of the inner courtyard. The stone slabs beneath their feet were slick with moisture and squelched when stepped on.
After passing through an archway, a stairwell appeared before them. A spiral stone staircase wound upward, only wide enough for two people to pass through. Stone walls stood on both sides. Every few steps, there was a small window in the wall, and through it they could see the spires outside, layer upon layer.
Shulia walked in front, and Fick followed.
Halfway up, footsteps came from above. Shulia stopped and reached out to press a hand over Fick’s mouth.
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The footsteps drew closer and closer. Someone was probably coming down.
A black-robed teenage girl appeared around the bend. She looked to be in her early teens, her face pale and the area beneath her eyes bluish. When she saw Shulia, she froze for a moment, then quickly lowered her head and turned sideways, pressing herself against the wall to let them pass.
Ẁ ӗb̈ n о v̆ e ľ Е̃ ṅ u̇m̌ а
Shulia pulled Fick and continued upward. Once the girl’s footsteps had faded into the distance, Fick asked in a low voice, “Looks like you have quite a lot of prestige in the Witch Association?”
“Yes. I’m mainly in charge of managing discipline in the association, so I’m rather disliked.”
After climbing another two floors, a door appeared before them. It was made of dark brown wood, and a symbol had been carved into it: an eye encircled by countless smaller eyes.
Shulia quietly pushed the door open. Inside was a circular room. Long windows were set into all four walls, and through the glass, the entire Witch Association could be seen—
Those spires, flying buttresses, and rose windows had all shrunk into silhouettes.
An oak desk stood in the middle of the room. Several books and a roll of parchment were piled on it. Shulia walked to the desk, flipped through the parchment roll, pulled out two folded sheets, and tucked them into her clothes.
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“All right, we—” The door was suddenly pushed open. Fick was standing by the window, looking at the figures below that had shrunk to the size of ants, when a long black strip of something, like a snake and also like a whip, was flung straight at Shulia without a word.
Fick’s first reaction was to step sideways and shield Shulia behind him, reaching out to grab the thing flying toward them.
“Don’t grab it!”
Fick’s first thought was that it was a snake. Without another word, he wrapped an arm around Shulia and threw them both to the side. The two of them rolled across the floor, and the corner of Shulia’s skirt flipped up, revealing half of her smooth lower leg.
Shulia was pinned beneath him, then glanced toward the spot where he had just been standing.
The black thing had landed on the floor and was lying there motionless.
Е̃ ńù mä
It was not a snake. It was a belt.
Shulia stared at the ornament on the belt for two seconds, then suddenly let out a breath of relief. “Thank goodness you didn’t grab it.”
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Fick got up and reached out to pull her to her feet.
“What is that thing?”
“A relic of Mortis, one of the Four Great Knights.” Shulia stood up, patted down her skirt, and pointed at the belt on the floor. “Legend says Mortis escaped from beneath the God of Death’s scythe, then tore this off the God of Death on his way out. Whoever grabs it dies. The instant someone catches it, they’ll be drained dry.”
Fick lowered his head and looked at the black belt. It was three fingers wide, and at the center was a buckle shaped like a hand of bone biting down on a sword.
E ň u̇ m а
“That powerful? If it dropped from the God of Death, then doesn’t that make it divine-grade—” Before he could finish speaking, the belt on the ground moved.
As if it had come alive, it twisted, then crawled toward Fick. It did not roll. It crawled, like a snake, inching forward section by section.
Fick took a step back. The belt crawled a little faster.
Fick took another step back, and the belt sprang straight up, flying toward his waist—
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With a SNAP, it buckled itself on.
The buckle of the skeleton biting the sword happened to lock at the side of his waist.
Е n u mа
Fick and Shulia’s faces stiffened. They both lowered their heads at the same time and stared at the belt. It was wrapped there obediently. When Fick reached out and tried to pick at it, the belt even dodged his hand.
“I don’t feel anything. I should be able to endure it long enough to make it to the Church...” Fick said.
Shulia immediately used hand-enhancement magic and reached out to pull it off, but it would not budge. She dug her fingernails under the buckle until the veins stood out over her knuckles, yet the buckle remained completely still.
“Don’t move your waist yet. I’ll take you to the president right now. I don’t know how long this belt takes to suck someone dry.”
Before Shulia could say anything else, a hoarse voice came from the doorway.
“Anyone below A-rank can withstand it for five seconds. S-ranks can withstand it for one minute.”
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An old woman was leaning against the doorframe, holding a pipe in her hand as she narrowed her eyes at them.
Shulia turned her head and glared at her.
“Teacher! This is all your fault! Your stupid belt is going to kill my boyfriend!”
The old woman ignored her and stared at Fick.
Fick looked down at himself, then hopped twice. Nothing happened.
He looked up at the old woman, then looked at Shulia.
Ẃ е b́n оv̀ ѐ l̊ Е.n̊ ù mа
“I think it’s already been three minutes, hasn’t it? And I’m only D-rank...” He paused. “Are you two messing with me on purpose to test my feelings for Shulia?”
“You big idiot! I would never joke about your life!” Shulia was still trying to pull off the belt, her nails nearly snapping, while the old woman laughed so hard that sparks fell from her pipe.
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“Stop pulling.” The old woman walked over and stood in front of Fick. “You can’t pull it off.”
Shulia did not listen and kept pulling.
The old woman tapped her on the head with the pipe.
“I already said it. Even your old man wouldn’t be able to pull it off.”
Ёn ů m̄ ă
Shulia stopped and raised her head. Her eyes were a little red.
The old woman criticized Shulia for sneaking in to steal something without so much as a greeting and nearly getting this man killed. “This room has anti-biological magic. Even mosquitoes are blocked from entering. By rights, only you and I should be able to come inside, Shulia.”
Seeing the old woman block the doorway and refuse to let the two of them leave, Shulia grew so anxious that she nearly cried. “Then you still shouldn’t have used that damned belt to hurt him! He’s my lover! You dead old virgin, do you even understand what love is?”
“Why are you rushing like that, Shulia? Act more like a lady. I truly have no idea how you managed to find such an outstanding boyfriend.”
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The old woman looked at Fick with a wicked smile and deliberately spoke in riddles. “Young man, this belt can drain a person to death, yet it will not drain a person to death. This room repels the living, yet it does not repel the dead.”
The two of them did not understand. The old woman turned her head and looked at Fick.
Еn̈umã
“You deceived the God of Death and became the first human in the history of the empire to evade the Magic Crystal’s curse. That is why this belt wrapped itself around you.”
Fick was shocked. This short-legged old woman had exposed his secret right from the start. Was her next step going to be reciting his identification number?
Ignoring the belt still wrapped around him, he quickly stepped forward politely and clasped the old woman’s hand. “Grandma, if you want to study me, then study me. As your disciple’s boyfriend, I’m basically your son-in-law. Shulia was just anxious. If you have any opinion about me, please just say it directly. I’ll cooperate with you. Let’s not play these mysterious games. I’m scared.”
His smooth improvisation stunned even Shulia a little, but the old woman showed no expression.
“As expected of Shulia’s boyfriend. Your skill with your mouth is comparable to the Archbishop’s. As for studying you, I’ll leave that to my eldest disciple, whose elbows are already bending outward.”
The old woman took another puff from her pipe and blew the smoke onto Fick’s belt. “A divine object has acknowledged you as its master, and there are no side effects. You should be secretly delighted.”
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