A black-bluish-black crescent-shaped ether focal point was floating inside Luther’s chest. Acher fluttered through the air and perched on his shoulder. The raven spoke in a low voice:

“Very good. Now you can try using the powers of a reaper. For most people, mastering magic requires long years of practice. However, some supernatural beings inherit certain spells as a birthright, passed down through their bloodline. For example, magma dragons are born already capable of spewing molten fire, or hell worms are able to traverse through all kinds of terrain with ease.

What about hellravens? Eating a lot? Luther thought to himself.

Acher continued explaining, his wings giving a faint flutter as he spoke:

“Reapers are quite similar in that regard. Even though they are not a race in the traditional sense, all of them are capable of wielding a set of unique spells. Their most fundamental magical abilities include things like ‘harvesting ripe souls,’ perceiving the date of a person’s death, accelerating the approach of death, opening gates to the underworld, tracking down malicious spiritual entities, and many more.”

He looked around for a moment, scanning the surroundings before continuing:

“Right now, we have no loose souls or malevolent spirits nearby, and we also don’t have any living creature to test with. So, the easiest spell for you to attempt first will be opening a gate that leads to the underworld. In order to accomplish that, the first thing you need to do is draw a small amount of magic from your Ether Focal Point. Then, guide that energy to spin in a circular motion in front of you and chant the word ‘Pylōrodiogēsis.’ In your mind, focus on an exact location in the underworld where you want the gate to lead.”

“Where?” Luther asked.

“Try opening a gate to the seventh layer, because that is the place where your power is the strongest. Picture a location fifty thousand feet below the ground.’ The surface of the underworld is filled with crazed wandering souls, demons, monsters, and all kinds of vicious creatures. For a powerful reaper, these minor nuisances would pose little concern; in your current state, however, you must tread with great caution.”

Luther nodded.

“First of all, activate your Cloak of Ambiguity so you can conceal yourself from any strong creatures that might be able to sense your presence,” Acher instructed.

Luther flexed his wings and allowed them to transform into a thick cloak made of dark raven feathers that covered his entire body, hiding even his face.

Next, he drew a portion of the mana from his Ether convergence point, guiding it outward from his body. He then willed the snowflake-shaped particles of magic to begin spinning in a gentle circle before him.

“Pylōrodiogēsis,” Luther whispered.

The moment the word left his lips, the swirling circle shifted into an absolute jet black vortex in an instant, opening up into a portal large enough for him to walk through if he wished.

Before his eyes stretched a world drenched in blood and fire.

The Phlegethon River crawled through each of the rings of the seventh layer of the underworld. Vast and varied terrains stretched across its immense surface, reaching far beyond the horizon.

All at once, Luther was overcome by an indescribable sensation.

This place belongs to me.

“Grandpa? Mother?” he asked aloud the question he had been carrying inside his mind for the past few days.

“You want to see them again, don’t you?” Acher replied. “Your mother may have moved on to her next life already. Even your grandfather could very well have reincarnated by now. After all, when they were alive, I did not see any sins weighing heavily enough upon them to warrant long-term punishment in the Abyss.”

He paused for a brief moment and added:

“Besides, even if they have not reincarnated yet, now is not the right time for you to step into Hell. The Abyss has never been a simple or forgiving place. Even demigods do not dare to take reckless actions here.”

The raven tapped Luther’s head with his beak, and the boy knew this was his way of offering comfort.

“Although very few beings in the underworld would dare to kill you, because slaying a reaper will cause the Flow of Destiny itself to place a massive bounty on their head. Even if they used another’s hands to carry out the deed, it would make no difference. Nothing can deceive fate. That bounty would be so enormous that it would draw the attention of many powerful entities eager to hunt them down,” Acher explained.

“Then. Why can’t I go?” Luther asked.

“Because when someone wants to harm another, killing is not the only way to do it,” Acher answered, his voice turning low and serious. “There are many other methods, abusing the body, torturing the mind, imprisonment, sealing away one’s powers, manipulation, enslavement, the list goes on and on.”

There was something about the tone in the raven’s voice that sent a shiver crawling down Luther’s spine.

“When you are strong enough to defend yourself, you can try searching for them. But by then, chances are that they are already in Longing Sea or even in their next life,” Acher went on. “For now, close the portal. This step is easier than opening it. All you need to do is stare straight at the vortex and chant the word ‘Pylōrosphragisis.’”

“Pylōrosphragisis.”

The pitch-black vortex in front of Luther began to contract, shrinking smaller and smaller until it vanished altogether. Luther checked the energy in his mana convergence point.

Used up about one twentieth, he estimated.

“Next, before we proceed to your very first mission, you must claim two sacred artifacts that belong to the power of the afterlife. Cross both of your hands over your chest, look upward toward the Great Flow, and chant the word ‘Moirascharisma’ three times,” Acher instructed.

Luther did as told and whispered the word three times in a row:

“Moirascharisma. Moirascharisma. Moirascharisma.”

From an unreachable distance somewhere in the endless cosmos, a shaft of light broke away from the Unending Cycle and descended toward him. Two objects began to take shape in his grasp.

In his left hand, he held a gray book made from two stone tablets pressed together.

On its cover were carved creatures of many kinds: humans, animals, nymphs, dragons, and even demons and gods, all depicted as if they were resting in the still embrace of the Flow.

“This is the Book of Fate,” Acher explained. “Its primary abilities allow a reaper to review a person’s life and predict their eventual death. Of course, the stronger a being is compared to you, the more difficult it will be for you to discern the story of their life and the details of their destiny. Besides that, with this item, a messenger of the underworld can locate the precise positions of missions assigned by the Great Flow.”

In his right hand, Luther now held a scythe taller than he was. The handle of the weapon was carved from an unknown type of jet-black wood, while the curved blade had been shaped from a silver-white metal, delicate in its half-transparent glow.

“And this,” Acher continued, “is the Scythe of Death. It deals great damage against creatures of darkness. It can also be wielded as a weapon capable of directly attacking the souls of living beings. If an apprentice mage or an apprentice knight were to hold this scythe, they could even fight above their rank and challenge a brute demon.”

“It looks. Different,” Luther remarked.

Acher understood what he meant. He answered:

“Of course it doesn’t look like Minos’s scythe. This is only the basic form of a Scythe of Death. Each reaper forges and refines their own weapon in their unique way.”

The raven seemed to recall something. He clicked his beak and then added:

“After Minos completed Moon Ascension, he bound the whirlwind punishment of the second layer Himer to his scythe. That act turned his weapon into one of the most powerful artifacts across every era.”

“In the future, if you wish, you can choose to do the same. The Phlegethon River flows right along the edge of your scythe’s blade. I truly want to know if such a weapon would be able to send a divine being straight back into the Great Flow the instant it cuts through their immortal body,” Acher said with a sly, almost sinister laugh. “Now, let’s begin your very first mission.”

Following his instructions, Luther opened the Book of Fate and chanted:

“Moiraperasmata!”

The surface of the stone tablets began to glow as pale red lines formed, sketching out a map bit by bit. At its center was a bright red dot, and scattered around the map were three faint blue points of light, one larger and two smaller.

“A map of. New York,” Luther recognized what it was.

“That’s correct, though to be more precise, it is a map of the area around you. The red dot represents your current position. Those glowing points, on the other hand, are intersections of destiny, places where fate itself is being disrupted. In other words, they mark the locations of missions given by the Great Flow,” Acher explained.

“Why they. Different sizes?” Luther asked.

“The size of each point corresponds to the difficulty level of the mission. For example, this tiny one, about the size of a grain of rice, represents an apprentice mage level task, while that larger one represents a novice mage level task,” Acher clarified.

“The fact that, in a city as crowded as this, there are only three of these locations just goes to show how rare supernatural events have become nowadays. It must be because the magic level is so low. Although you are now a novice-rank mage, we should start with an apprentice-level mission so you can get used to the work little by little,” he added. “We will go to this location.”

Acher extended a sharp talon and pointed to one of the two small dots.

“What is. The mission?” Luther asked.

“The Great Flow provides nothing more than the location and the general level of the disturbance. Our job is to go there, investigate what is disrupting the world of the living, and put an end to that interference,” Acher answered.

Luther pulled out his ancient, clunky laptop and compared the position on the magical map with Google Maps. After a moment, he read aloud:

“115 West Esplanade Street.”