The Underworld, once shrouded in lifeless cold, had become unusually noisy.
"Go go go! Kill that overgrown worm!"
"Idiot! Step on its tail, pin its head down, and chop it—how hard is that?!"
"It got away again! It got away again! It's on the left, you moron!"
"Damn it! I don't get what the goddess sees in these brainless idiots. All they know is brute strength! If they were under my command, I'd curse their entire bloodline out of existence!"
Inside the Spear Cages on either side, hundreds of soul flames in humanoid form flickered violently. The undead, their faces faintly visible, shouted and raged, gripping stones carved with skull symbols, itching to hurl them.
"Samael, yeah, that's it! Beat the crap out of him!"
"Poison won't work! Gallû Spirits are soul-type entities. They know how to use magic and divine arts—just smash everything you've got at them!"
"Martial skills are fine too! As long as they resonate with the Ether Factor, the shockwave can deal real damage to ghosts!"
"Haha! You little devil, you really pick things up fast. I knew I wasn't wrong about you!"
Meanwhile, another group of ghosts holding snake-symbol stones grinned ear to ear, offering tips or trading insults with the opposing side.
On the open ground, two figures—one large, one small—clashed back and forth in fierce combat. The shockwaves from their mana release blasted apart the surrounding rock, and strong gusts stirred a haze of dust.
"Awoo!"
A sharp howl echoed from one side. Shrouded in deathly aura, the Gallû Spirit had failed to break through for too long and had grown increasingly frenzied.
Its eyes flared blood-red, and with a wild sweep of its claw, silvery shockwaves burst outward.
"The Gallû Spirit's gone berserk! It's using power beyond the limit! That's a foul!"
A ghost named Um, holding seven or eight snake-symbol stones, slammed against the Spear Cage and yelled furiously.
The opposing souls all fell silent nearly in unison, the flames in their eyes flickering slightly.
But before they could react, the situation on the field flipped.
The slender figure cloaked in dark wind saw the bone claws wreathed in eerie blue fire closing in fast. It reared its head with a screech, its scales flipping and exploding outward, unleashing a dense mist of red and black blood.
At that instant, just as the Gallû Spirit lunged toward the blood mist, a hairy paw with reddish-brown patterns suddenly struck from nowhere and slammed it violently to the ground.
Boom!
The thunderous crash echoed as stone shards flew in every direction.
The Gallû Spirit was driven deep into a crater, its chest letting out a muffled crack as the surrounding deathly aura was forcibly scattered.
As the dust settled, the figure pinning down the Gallû Spirit came into full view.
A lion-like magical beast with reddish-brown fur stood imposingly, around two meters tall. Its gaping jaws held two pairs of sharp canines and rows of chisel-like fangs.
Its neck, spine, and tail were all covered with golden-yellow mane that flickered like fire.
"Wait, that thing is..."
Old Um smacked his lips, his face twisted with disbelief.
"Mad Lion Uridimmu! One of the Eleven Offspring created by the goddess Tiamat!"
A newly arrived ghost, once a centurion from ruined Babylon, spoke with a dry voice.
Just as tension filled the Spear Cage, the Mad Lion turned its head cautiously, its distinct snake-like pupils narrowing as it scanned the crowd.
"I'm just saying... it broke the rules first, so this round's still ours, right?"
Could this magical beast actually be that bastard Samael in disguise?
As the ghosts looked at each other in stunned silence, the Gallû Spirit—still pinned—shook its skeletal head.
Its previously scattered death aura surged back in violently. Flames flared in its eyes as it opened its jaws wide, snapping ferociously at the beast's front paw.
But the Mad Lion reacted faster, its claw slicing through the thin miasma and smashing the Gallû Spirit's head aside, forcing it to settle down and slowly regenerate with the help of its death aura.
"Hey, hey, take it easy, man. You go all out like that and no one's covering your injuries."
Still in his Mad Lion form, Ian muttered as he let go of the Gallû Spirit, then strutted toward the Spear Cages with the smooth elegance of a feline.
"Alright then, a bet's a bet. Time to pay up. Combat skills, magic, antiques, hidden treasures—anything of value will do."
The ghosts snapped out of it and instantly erupted, hurling skull-marked stones at the lion.
"You cheated, damn it! This was rigged!"
"You can turn into Uridimmu and you're still calling it a fair bet?!"
"Exactly! You damn trickster! Give us our money back!"
The Gallû Spirit, newly assigned as a guardian of the Underworld, had only recently completed its transformation. It was barely at the Silver level and lacked most of its combat technique.
And that's not even counting the fact that its base model was one of the Eleven Offspring—those divine-class monsters. Even among the beast hordes currently ravaging Mesopotamia, most mature Uridimmu were Silver level.
And now they were expected to believe a half-trained Gallû Spirit was going one-on-one while holding back? Fooling ghosts like that—where was his shame?
A few knowledgeable Sumerian soldier spirits cursed the loudest, itching to crawl out of the Spear Cages and tear the damn thing to shreds.
Under the pelting storm of stones, the Mad Lion's sleek, radiant coat deflected every impact. Its steel-hard body didn't feel the slightest bit of pain or itch.
"Tch! I told you we should've kept it civil, talked things out."
"You're the ones who pushed me to fight the Gallû Spirit and sneakily placed bets."
Ian, still in his Mad Lion form, padded up to the rowdiest ghosts, wearing a face of mock grievance.
On the other side, the ghosts who had bet on Ian with their snake-marked stones couldn't stay quiet when the other group tried to weasel out. They immediately fired back with curses.
Eventually, the chaotic shouting match and bickering fizzled out as the Gallû Spirit reassembled and the Spear Cage barriers reactivated.
...
That evening, a slender figure snuck into the stone cave, dragged out a large bundle, and quietly knocked on a few Spear Cages.
Several gems etched with cuneiform symbols were tossed onto the ground, causing the restrictive barriers to unfold and expand.
In the dim light, the bundle was unwrapped, and the shimmering glow of treasure lit up a snakelike face and two flickering soul flames.
To ensure a more comfortable existence in the Underworld, myths across civilizations speak of the dead bribing the local guardians—and the Sumerians were no exception. Most of the spirits who bet during the day had a little stash of valuables.
And even if they didn't have coin, the clay tablets stacked on the table were inscribed with secrets worth pledging.
"After clearing the debts of the betters, this is what's left."
"Per the usual rules, we'll split it three ways. One share goes as a favor."
"After all, in the Underworld, we see each other every day—some things just can't be pocketed casually."
"Like that burial gold ring from Ninnuta's wife, Nash's heirloom amethyst, and those service medals from soldiers of ruined Babylon..."
"All of those need to be returned."
The ancient snake flicked its tongue and picked a few items out of the pile. After a brief pause, its eyes gleamed.
"If one share isn't enough, take the rest out of my thirty percent."
"No objections, right? Old Um? General Tareel?"
In the dim light, two humanoid soul forms emerged—Old Um, the loudmouth troublemaker on one side, and a battle-hardened centurion from the ruins of Babylon on the other.
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
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