Chapter 317: The Belly of the Giant Eagle

The Bridge of the Past in the Underworld—Grindelwald had left, but Hoffa now faced an unprecedented challenge.

If someone had told him before that a bridge could exist underwater, he would have dismissed it as the ramblings of a madman or sheer nonsense.

Yet, now, an incredible and surreal scene unfolded before him.

Countless spirits of the dead floated a hundred meters above the ancient bridge of Helheim, forming a winding, flowing river of souls.

Beneath the torrent of souls and atop the bridge, icy winds howled like glacial storms, their speed unfathomable. The winds were eerie—sometimes blowing forward, sometimes backward.

The weight of the massive stone tablet on Hoffa's back made it impossible for him, or the other bearers of Helheim's burdens, to even turn around. They could only stagger forward out of sheer inertia. At first, they relied on their legs to trudge along, but as the relentless winds intensified, their bodies were forced to crawl on the ground.

Hoffa could see those ahead of him, also burdened by heavy stone tablets, slowly disintegrate under the onslaught of the wind. Fragments resembling pieces of flesh—ears, fingers, ribs, or maggots—peeled off their bodies, tumbling into the air and striking Hoffa's face, only to instantly disintegrate into ash in the tempest. It felt as if the wind wasn't cold, but ablaze with flames.

Some, unable to bear the weight, perished completely, both body and tablet swept into the wind, disappearing without a trace—even their cries drowned by the relentless gale.

On the Bridge of the Past, Hoffa trudged forward with immense difficulty. Thanks to his extraordinary mental resilience, he barely maintained his physical integrity. Looking up at the light souls gliding effortlessly above, he realized that he could simply let go of the chain tethering him to the stone tablet. If he discarded it, he too could float like the others into the sky.

But deep down, he knew that if he did, he would instantly lose all his memories. Aglaea, Miranda, Chloe, Grindelwald, Sylbie—everything he had experienced and all the stories he carried would vanish in an instant. That was a price he could never accept.

So, like the others on Helheim's bridge, he staggered forward despite the overwhelming difficulty, heading toward the massive eagle that loomed in the distance.

Time lost meaning as Hoffa endured countless gusts of fierce wind.

By the time he reached the edge of the bridge, he was utterly alone. All the others who had carried stone tablets with him had turned to ash under the wind's force.

At last, he arrived at the end of the Bridge of the Past, standing before the giant eagle.

The wind dispersed the mist, and in the fleeting calm between gusts, Hoffa got a clear view of the creature.

No—it wasn't just an eagle. It was a colossal figure cloaked in feathers, towering over ten thousand meters high. Though it bore the visage of an eagle, its face was larger than mountains, solemn and awe-inspiring, with one eye black and the other white.

The giant stood amidst the fog-filled abyss, its lower body obscured from view. Its upper body was more immense than Mount Everest. Anyone who saw it couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of dread.

The entirety of Helheim's Bridge of the Past stretched from the mouth of this giant, extending into the unseen distance. The gale on the bridge was none other than the giant's breath.

The sheer magnitude of the sight left Hoffa breathless. Compared to this, even the grandest wonders of the Deathly Realm paled in comparison. Standing before the giant, he was no more than a mosquito beside an elephant.

The moment lasted less than a second before the giant breathed again. Its mouth opened, unleashing an unparalleled suction force. This time, being so close, Hoffa had no chance to resist. He was instantly pulled into the giant's mouth.

As he tumbled inside, his stone tablet nearly slipped away.

Recalling how the other bearers had shattered, Hoffa clung tightly to the chain, refusing to let his memories be swept away.

Just as he lost his grip momentarily, the wind shifted direction. The giant exhaled, sending Hoffa flying backward. He collided with one of the giant's teeth, barely managing to stop himself.

"When will this torment end?" Hoffa groaned. Ever since entering the Underworld, nothing had been under his control. The frustration was unbearable.

As if hearing his prayer, the wind finally subsided. Even the howling sound disappeared, and the giant's breathing ceased. Only a pleasant clinking sound echoed faintly in his ears.

Under the crushing weight of the stone tablet, Hoffa lifted his head and opened his eyes. He was now lying inside the giant's mouth. Above him, the giant's teeth hung like inverted mountains, while the rough surface of its tongue stretched out like a crimson plain beneath him.

Clink. Clink. 

Accompanying the metallic melody, a pair of unnervingly long, black legs appeared before Hoffa.

They belonged to a figure—an incredibly tall, dark-skinned person, standing at least four meters high. The figure's entire body was covered in vibrant paint and adorned with golden rings. From a glance, even their ankles were as thick as an average person's thigh.

"Let me have a look."

The figure spoke in a melodious voice, one that defied categorization as male or female.

The impossibly tall figure bent down, their spindly fingers—resembling those of a stick insect—dipped in saliva and slid over the stone tablet Hoffa carried.

"Hmm, quite a remarkable life. No wonder you're so reluctant to let it go," the figure said, licking their fingers. "Few have lives as vivid as yours, and even fewer make it this far."

"Who are you?" Hoffa asked, struggling under the weight of the stone tablet.

"Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. I am Avada, custodian of the Underworld's recycling station and servant of Death," the figure said joyfully. They patted the stone tablet on Hoffa's back, causing the golden rings on their wrist to jingle pleasantly.

"That big guy outside is Hræsvelgr, the Soul Devourer. He feeds on spirits, and only souls favored by Death make it this far."

Suddenly, the weight on Hoffa's back lifted, allowing him to stand.

A group of tiny, dwarf-like creatures had taken his stone tablet. Joyfully carrying it, they disappeared into the giant's mouth in an instant.

"Where are they taking my memories?" Hoffa asked.

"To Death," Avada replied.

Hoffa gasped in shock.

Avada intertwined their fingers. "Death is a lonely god, and the stories carried by souls are their favorite pastime. The tablet you brought is impressive. I believe you might have a chance to settle in Helheim."

"Settle in Helheim?"

"Yes. You have two choices: remain here with your past or relinquish it and reenter the cycle of reincarnation. But given that you endured the wind to bring the tablet, you likely wish to keep your past."

"Am I dead?"

Hoffa found it hard to believe. Miller was still waiting for him at Hogwarts, and his body might still be breathing. Declaring him dead felt premature.

"You're amusing. If you've entered the Underworld, aren't you already dead?"

The towering, stick-thin Avada chuckled. "But don't worry—some people, even in death, are still alive. And some, though alive, are already dead. Follow me."

Avada began walking forward, their strides enormous. Hoffa finally encountered someone willing to speak calmly with him. He had a hundred questions to ask, so he quickly followed.

Unexpectedly, a pebble rolled to his feet, clinking as it stopped. Hoffa stared at it for a moment, then glanced back. All he saw were the mountainous teeth of the giant—no sign of anyone else.

Shaking his head, he hurried to catch up with Avada.

The two descended further, passing through the giant's mouth and arriving at an enormous bronze arch carved in the shape of two intertwined snakes. The arch soared ten thousand meters high, and the snakes' scales shimmered with emerald, obsidian, and lapis lazuli.

This corresponds to the giant's throat.

Avada extended a single finger and inserted it into a small hole on the door. With a twist, like turning a key, the massive bronze door slowly cracked open, revealing a narrow gap.

"Let's go."

Avada said cheerfully, squeezing sideways into the gap.

Hoffa wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but as they passed by the intertwining snakes on the door, it seemed like they smiled at him.

Beyond the bronze door was the giant's abdomen.

All sound disappeared. Looking up, Hoffa saw a black and white sun and moon shining simultaneously in the sky — the eyes of the giant.

The ground was paved with blood-red sandstone steps, engraved with various animals: slithering snakes, soaring kites, gliding fish, wolves of the red wasteland, and zebras and elephants.

Everything in this place was far beyond the ordinary — the soul-devouring giant, the gaunt servant of death who called himself a reaper's helper, and this bizarre world where the sun and moon hung in the sky together.

Hoffa dared not say a word. He felt like a country bumpkin entering a bustling city for the first time.

Descending further, the steps floated in mid-air. On either side were bottomless abysses, within which floated countless clusters of structures, resembling islands. They seemed to correspond to the organs of the giant's body. From a distance, the architectural clusters displayed solemn hues of violet and earthy brown, exuding an austere dignity.

Gradually, the steps beneath them branched out, resembling blood vessels extending in all directions. Shadows of figures began to appear on the steps alongside Hoffa and Avada. These figures varied in height and were dressed in clothing from various eras. Like ghosts, they hovered without touching the ground. When they saw Avada approaching, they showed fear, lowered their heads, and floated past him.

"They seem to be very afraid of you," Hoffa asked timidly.

"And you're not?"

Avada chuckled, looking at him. "You seemed rather calm when you saw me."

"If I'm already dead, what could possibly be more frightening than death?" Hoffa murmured softly.

"Is that so?"

Avada burst into laughter. "I do hope you can maintain that mindset forever."

As he laughed, there was a faint clatter.

Another pebble rolled to a stop at Hoffa's feet. Startled, he quickly turned his head to look around.

All he could see were pale, transparent figures drifting by. There was no way to tell who had thrown the stone.

"What's that?"

Hoffa pointed at a heart-shaped floating island in the distance.

He noticed that the transparent figures were all moving toward that heart-shaped island. Even from miles away, he could hear the frenzied shouting coming from it.

"That place? It's an entertainment venue."

"Entertainment venue?"

"Entertainment is instinctive — it's the same for both the living and the dead," Avada shrugged. "But let's not worry about that now. I'll show you around first."

Avada led Hoffa through a grand archway and onto one of the floating islands. As soon as they entered, Hoffa saw countless statues of ancient heroes standing atop white and green marble pillars, each three times the size of a normal human.

They appeared lifelike, but they didn't move an inch.

Avada said, "Throughout history, there have been many souls like yours. Some achieved extraordinary feats, others had unforgettable emotions, and some were simply unrestrained lunatics. These souls could never abandon their identities. For such souls, we must provide a place of rest. Don't you agree?"

As Avada spoke, the ancient heroes on the marble pillars turned their heads one by one, smiling and nodding in acknowledgment toward Hoffa.

After the harrowing winds on the Bridge of the Past, the tranquility of this place felt oddly comforting.

Yet, deep down, Hoffa felt uneasy. He muttered, "This place feels like... a museum exhibit."

"Nonsense. Exhibits are for people to see. This, however, is the reaper's treasury — not open to outsiders."

Avada bent down, whispering into Hoffa's ear, "Even the gods cannot enter here."

They continued walking and passed through a bustling marketplace housed in a massive multi-entrance building. Unlike the surreal absurdity of the nightmare world, every building and structure in the reaper's realm exuded solidity and stability.

The walls of these buildings were carved with vivid scenes of war — swords clashing, spears striking, arrows raining down, heroes battling, infants being slaughtered, and flames engulfing the earth from the heavens.

Inside the marketplace, thousands of brightly colored birds fluttered around. Dense trees and flowers grew on platforms above the gardens. The marketplace had countless shops with an array of goods, seemingly offering everything the gods had ever created, indistinguishable from the real world.

"What do you think of the environment here?" Avada asked. "Could you live peacefully in such a place?"

"Can I ask you about someone?" Hoffa couldn't suppress his anxious curiosity.

"Go ahead," Avada replied casually. "I may not answer, though."

"Aglaia Durasis. She died fifty-three years ago. Is she still here, or has she already reincarnated?" Hoffa asked. Standing before Avada, who was four meters tall, he appeared rather small and insignificant.

"Oh?"

The reaper's servant revealed an enigmatic smile. After scrutinizing Hoffa for a moment, he said faintly:

"In Helheim, you can obtain anything you desire — money, honor, status, and even information. But on one condition..." Avada bent down, his face close to Hoffa's, and slowly tilted his head to a 90-degree angle. "You must play a game with the reaper."

"A game with the reaper?"

"Exactly."

"What kind of game?"

"Oh, every game is unique. The reaper tailors it based on each soul's traits."

As Avada spoke, a sudden sense of foreboding gripped Hoffa. Something within him seemed to crack and merge repeatedly. Avada's voice became indistinct, and Hoffa struggled to breathe, his heart clenching painfully. Every second felt like an eternity.

Then, an intense feeling of déjà vu forced his head to tilt slightly to the side.

Plop.

A small pebble fell to the ground again.

This time, the pebble struck his head.

Startled, Hoffa spun around and caught sight of a fleeting figure behind one of the floating island's buildings.

"What's your decision, Mr. Bach?"

Avada bent down and asked.

Hoffa reluctantly tore his attention away from the pebble. "What?"

"I'm asking if you're willing to participate in an exciting and unforgettable game with the reaper."

"Can I... think about it for a bit?"

Hoffa suppressed the turmoil within him and replied with difficulty.

"Of course." Avada straightened up slowly, his smile fading. "But I suggest you give me an answer quickly. After all, the reaper's time is quite precious."

He turned and walked into the street. "Take your time here. Call me when you've decided."

"How will I find you when I've made up my mind?"

Avada didn't answer. He walked forward slowly, and before long, he disappeared into the air like a ghost.

Once the reaper's servant was gone, Hoffa immediately sprang into action. He picked up the small pebble from the ground and scanned his surroundings. His gaze quickly locked onto a figure in a narrow alley.

Clutching the pebble, he ran over and saw a young man with ginger hair squatting between two strange plants, grinning foolishly at him.

"Little Barty?"

Hoffa was stunned when he recognized the young man before him. "What are you doing here?"

(End of Chapter)

Want to read the chapters in Advance? Join my Patreon

https://patreon.com/Glimmer09