Virgil snatched his hand back, clutching his bruised fingers against his chest.
He looked up at the towering shadow looming over the desk. The Grim Reaper stood beside it, its gloved hand resting on the Archive’s cover. Its eyes were fixed on him beneath the hood.
"You stopped it," Virgil said, his blue eyes locking onto the dark hood. "Why?"
"You were researching the throne, am I correct?"
"Yes."
The Reaper withdrew its hand from the cover.
"A drowning man should not be told the weight of the ship he is about to pull himself into."
It picked up the book, examining it for a moment before tucking it beneath its robes.
"The Archive is a repository of absolute truths. It does not measure the weight of the burden, nor does it care if your mortal mind is prepared to endure it.
"If you truly understood the eternal, agonizing restrictions of the Authority at this exact moment," it murmured, "then you might choose to let Minervia’s rot consume you instead. And after you’ve enlisted my help, I’d rather my efforts did not go to waste."
’Of course it does.’
He glanced at the Reaper’s robes. He hadn’t gone too deep into his questions, but it still felt like he had been getting somewhere, or at least he thought he had. He had found something capable of answering his questions, and it had just been taken away when he was getting to the important part.
Though what the Reaper was implying was clear. He understood that the Reaper knew things he didn’t, things he might not be capable of understanding yet.
The Reaper turned towards the Chamber’s exit, something that had not existed when Virgil had first come up here.
"We are done here, Son of Death," the Reaper stated, the edges of its cloak seeming to blur against the drifting ash. "The Entity at the summit has awakened."
"...Entity?"
Virgil gazed past the towering figure towards the dark exit. The freezing temperature of the sanctuary lingered in the air, but the burn in his veins was rapidly accelerating.
"The Entity is the one who will grant you the throne and allow you to proceed with the succession."
"Right. About that."
The Reaper stopped at the threshold. Virgil followed for several steps before speaking.
"You mentioned that both candidates are normally required, but Dante isn’t here," Virgil said.
"Under normal circumstances, yes," the Reaper replied. "However, the Underworld operates on the principle of equivalent exchange. An exception can be granted as long as the substitute is a being belonging to the Underworld."
"...An exception?"
"To circumvent the absolute rule of the succession, a price of equal weight must be paid," the Reaper continued, the abyssal darkness beneath his hood unreadable. "Specifically, the soul of the strongest being residing within the Underworld."
Virgil considered that.
The strongest being in the Underworld.
Normally, he would have assumed it was the God of Death, but there was currently no god in the Underworld.
And the term ’being’ was too vague. It could be some ancient monster buried beneath a mountain or a creature that ruled over a territory.
"Where is it?" he asked, taking a cautious step forward. "This being. Do we have to kill it?"
The Grim Reaper did not move. It stood as an imposing void against the shattered pillars, its silence stretching for several long seconds.
Virgil stopped to stare at the towering figure for a moment before his gaze fell to the massive scythe resting in the Reaper’s grip.
He looked up at the hood shrouded in darkness.
"You’re talking about yourself."
"Yes."
"You’re going to sacrifice yourself for me?"
"Offering my soul, yes."
"And you’re telling me this now?"
"You asked how the succession could proceed."
"That doesn’t mean you have to volunteer yourself as the answer."
The Reaper tilted its hood slightly.
"Would you prefer that I suggest someone else?"
Virgil opened his mouth. Then closed it.
He didn’t have an answer.
That was the problem. He didn’t know enough about the Underworld to name anyone who could take the Reaper’s place. Even if he did, the trial demanded the strongest, and there could only be one.
"Why?" he asked at last.
"The succession must continue."
"I know. But why?"
Someone it barely knew. Someone who was a servant of the God of Death, no less.
"The Underworld continues to function, but it is not whole. There are things that even I cannot repair. Responsibilities that were never meant to be mine."
It paused.
"I have done what I can."
"You think I can fix it?"
"I believe you may." The Reaper then turned towards him. "Before his departure, your father entrusted me with a final instruction."
Virgil’s expression changed slightly.
"He told me that when his children came to the Underworld, they should be treated well, regardless of whether a new God of Death emerged during his absence," the Reaper said, lowering its head. "He would not want your body to become a puppet for a Goddess.
"And if you were to reach the summit without the other heir, you would be sent back to die from the Goddess’ curse. I would rather extinguish my own existence to pay the toll, so the Son of Death can claim his rightful inheritance."
"..."
Virgil quietly looked at the Reaper.
For a moment, he couldn’t find anything to say.
He had expected an ulterior motive or a debt owed to his father. Instead, it was far simpler.
He looked at the enormous scythe resting in the Reaper’s hand, then at the black robes concealing its body.
He had known the creature was powerful. The aura it gave off was unlike anything he had ever experienced in the living world.
And now it was willing to give all that up for him.
He knew the Reaper was doing it out of respect for his father, but nevertheless, the thought was strangely comforting.
"But there is a condition," the Reaper added. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
It slowly turned fully towards Virgil. The temperature in the room plummeted to absolute zero, freezing the breath in Virgil’s lungs.
"A condition?"
"Death is a toll that is exacted, Son of Death. It can never be donated."
The Reaper raised a pale, gloved hand. The massive scythe materialized fully, its curved blade gleaming with a terrifying glint.
"The Entity will not accept a willing suicide. If you wish to claim my soul to buy your passage..."
The Reaper leveled the scythe directly at Virgil’s chest.
"You must take it from me."
The Reaper pulled the scythe back, lowering it to its side.
"The toll will be collected at the gates. So come."
The ascent up the final black staircase was a grueling, agonizing crawl.
When they finally breached the summit, there was no grand colosseum or ornate throne room. It was a desolate, flat peak covered in an ocean of drifting gray ash.
He slowed down as he approached the center.
He couldn’t immediately make sense of what he was looking at.
Something occupied the center of the room.
At first glance, it appeared to be a mass of darkness suspended above a circular platform. Yet the longer Virgil stared, the less certain he became. Its outline shifted whenever he tried to follow it, expanding and contracting without any discernible movement.
It had no face, no limbs, no recognizable features. And yet it possessed a form.
"Is that the Entity?"
"Yes."
Virgil gave a sidelong look before returning his attention to the Entity. The moment they approached the platform, the darkness at its center stirred.
"You have returned, Grim Reaper?"
The voice carried no discernible gender or age. It seemed to come from everywhere at once, reverberating through the summit rather than traveling through the air.
"Yes."
The Entity’s presence seemed to shift.
"And you have brought the candidate."
"Yes."
"And where is the other heir?" the Entity questioned.
"The second candidate is absent."
The reaction was instantaneous.
The shifting mass of the Entity violently expanded, the surrounding space warping as a blinding rage erupted from its core. The ground trembled violently, cracking beneath Virgil’s boots as the Entity’s divine fury threatened to flatten him.
"Both heirs must stand before the Authority. Neither may claim what belongs to both alone. Where is the other heir!?"
The Entity’s form twisted, its edges stretching into something vast and incomprehensible.
"The other heir is absent, and the trial will take place without him," the Reaper said calmly.