A freezing cold washed over Virgil.
Despite the cold, his body felt like it was burning.
He opened his eyes and found himself on a stretch of pale sand.
Beyond it was a vast sea of blood that expanded endlessly, perfectly still beneath an enormous crimson sky.
It took him a moment to register his surroundings.
"I’m alive?"
The last thing he remembered was performing the ritual... and getting struck by lightning.
He sat up abruptly.
His body was intact.
However, there was a slight burning ache in his chest.
[You have offered a lesser-soul to the goddess]
[You have angered Minervia, the goddess of knowledge.]
’Oh.’
He glanced once more at his surroundings.
His breathing became unsteady.
The moment the lightning struck, he had been certain that he was going to die.
And he had.
"...I’m dead."
The words barely left his mouth.
"No."
His chest tightened.
"No, no, no, no."
This wasn’t really happening, right?
Had he really died?
Maybe the lightning hadn’t actually killed him.
Maybe this was some kind of illusion.
"I shouldn’t have done that."
He had thought that even if he had died, he would transmigrate into another body.
Somewhere new.
Wasn’t that how he got here in the first place?
He never actually believed that he would truly...
Die.
Virgil lowered his head.
His fingers curled into the sand.
"I’m such an idiot."
He knew the ritual was dangerous.
He knew that the goddess might not appreciate his little exploit.
And he had still done it.
He gambled with his life, and now he was paying for it.
"Maybe I deserve it."
He laughed bitterly.
For a while, he didn’t move.
[An outsider has offered a soul through the ritual of her kin.]
[You are not recognized as a member of the Visconti lineage.]
Virgil blinked.
"...Outsider?"
His expression slowly changed.
"So that’s why she was angry?"
He had assumed Minervia simply rejected his request since he was trying to offer a soul despite possessing two.
Apparently, that wasn’t the only thing.
She hadn’t killed him simply because he offered one soul. He had also used the Visconti bloodline to invoke her despite not actually belonging to it.
He had died because he tried to cheat a goddess.
Virgil forced himself to stand.
His legs felt strangely sturdy, almost as if they hadn’t been reduced to ashes just moments earlier.
He looked around once more.
The beach extended endlessly in both directions.
Further inland, black mountains rose beneath the crimson sky, their peaks extending as far as the eye could see.
"You have arrived, Son of Death."
Virgil jumped.
He turned around to see a figure cloaked in darkness.
Its body was wrapped in black robes, though Virgil couldn’t tell what was underneath them. Its arms were unnaturally long, disappearing within its sleeves.
Beneath its hood was nothing but darkness.
"Wait... What did you just call me?"
"Son of Death."
"I mean why?"
"You are a descendant of the God of Death, sire. I merely addressed you appropriately."
Virgil was confused.
How could a living person even be a descendant of the God of Death?
"What?"
"Come, Son of Death, your questions will be answered as we make our way to the crossing."
The figure turned and began walking.
He stared at its back for a few seconds.
"Wait."
The figure stopped.
"Where are we going?"
"The crossing, sire, so you may enter the Underworld."
The figure continued on its way.
Virgil frowned but chose to follow.
Judging from its appearance, Virgil assumed the being was some sort of Grim Reaper.
And from its words, it was taking him to the Underworld.
He wasn’t entirely convinced, but something caught his interest.
’Son of Death.’
He didn’t quite understand what the figure meant.
So he followed after.
"What do you mean by Son of Death?"
"You are a descendant of the God of Death."
Virgil paused.
’Is that why the original Virgil awakened both Death and Shadow affinities?’
Both affinities were rare, each appearing only twice in a generation.
He had never heard of a god whose bloodline influenced the affinities of its descendants. Affinities were believed to awaken randomly, after all.
The pale sand gave way to cracked, ancient black stone paved into a crumbling highway.
Spanning both sides of the road were towering, broken statues of lesser gods whose faces had been violently smashed away by time.
"Is there any way I’ll be able to go back?"
"The true ruler of this realm treads freely between the veil of life and mortality. The path to the living world is open only to the one who inherits the God of Death’s authority."
"So there’s a way?"
"However, Son of Death, to inherit that authority you must first prevail in the succession."
"A succession battle? Against who?"
"There are only two candidates carrying the blood of Death," the Reaper said before stopping in front of a colossal, ruined monolith. "You, and the one born alongside you. Dante."
Virgil frowned.
His twin brother.
The holy protagonist of the original story.
"So, we’re supposed to fight each other?"
"Not yet, Son of Death."
"Not yet?"
"The succession battle will begin once both candidates are present in hell."
Somehow, Dante was involved in this despite having no affinity for Death.
And from what he knew, Dante was going to stay alive for quite some time.
The Grim Reaper stepped towards the monolith before raising one pale hand.
The monolith began to glow.
Thin lines of pale light spread across its surface, forming ancient symbols that danced across the monolith.
Space itself began to distort.
A black circle slowly formed in front of the monolith.
Then it expanded.
"Beyond this portal is the Underworld."
He looked into the dark circle.
There didn’t seem to be anything beyond it.
The Grim Reaper paused before abruptly turning in Virgil’s direction.
Two faint, icy spheres of blue light ignited under its hood, staring directly into Virgil’s soul.
"Son of Death."
The Reaper’s voice dropped.
"How did you die?"
Virgil’s brows furrowed.
"...Is there a problem?"
The Reaper fell silent.
Then its gaze seemed to deepen.
"Your soul..."
It paused.
"It’s dying."