The air thickened with tension as the mummified priests advanced, their burning eyes fixed on Alastor and his companions. There was no fear in those ancient husks—only rage, purpose, and the weight of countless lifetimes devoted to guarding the Pyramid’s dark secrets.

Alastor fought to steady his breathing, his mind racing. Killing these cursed priests wouldn’t end the loop. They were part of the system, feeding the endless cycle of death and rebirth. He needed to find another way—something deeper, older.

Then, a shimmer along the wall caught his attention—a glyph glowing faintly in the corner of the chamber. It was different from the other symbols, darker and more deliberate, as though it had been hidden away, waiting for someone to discover it.

Alastor's hand brushed the dust from the wall, revealing the glyph’s intricate design—a jackal-headed figure standing at the threshold of life and death. Anubis, god of funerary rites, protector of the dead, and guardian of souls. But this wasn’t just an ordinary inscription. It was a key.

Aurora’s neural interface pulsed weakly, struggling to scan the hieroglyph. "That glyph… it’s not just a symbol," she murmured. "It’s a summoning. You’re invoking something."

"Something we need," Alastor muttered, narrowing his eyes as the energy from the glyph surged beneath his fingertips. He could feel the ancient power thrumming through the walls, beckoning him deeper into the tomb’s magic—a warning written in a forgotten language only the desperate could unlock. He needed to understand the priests’ curse, and the god they invoked to weave it.

Selene’s blade glinted in the dim light as she stepped closer. "What are you doing, Alastor?"

Alastor ignored her, his focus locked on the glyph. He knew instinctively that if he could unlock this message, it might show them the way forward. It was a gamble, but they were out of options.

His fingers traced the glyph’s jagged lines, reading the hidden meaning between the ancient symbols. The language felt familiar, as though it were speaking directly to his soul. And then, the glyph burned white-hot beneath his hand, flooding his mind with visions of ancient rituals, dark rites, and endless cycles of death.

And in the blink of an eye, he was somewhere else.

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The Realm of Anubis

Alastor stood in a vast expanse of swirling darkness, the walls of the tomb falling away into an endless void. The ground beneath his feet shifted like sand, and above him, the sky burned with an unnatural, spectral light.

Before him loomed a towering figure—the jackal-headed god, Anubis. His black fur shimmered in the ethereal glow, his eyes glowing a brilliant, deathless gold. He radiated power, ancient and absolute, the kind of presence that bent mortal minds to its will. This was no mere vision.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"Who dares summon me?" The god’s voice was a rumbling growl, like distant thunder rolling across the horizon.

Alastor stood his ground, his heart pounding but his gaze steady. "I need to know how to break the loop. How to end the cycle of death and rebirth that holds us prisoner."

Anubis’s glowing eyes narrowed, his towering form shifting with unsettling grace. "You speak of the immortal priests. They are bound to the cycle as its guardians, woven into the fabric of the Pyramid itself. They are beyond death—and so is their master."

"Lucius Cipher," Alastor whispered, the name tasting bitter on his tongue.

Anubis inclined his head, a faint glint of amusement flickering in his golden eyes. "Yes. He who commands the loop commands life and death alike. He cannot be slain by mortal hands. His existence transcends time, as does yours."

Alastor clenched his fists. "There has to be a way to stop him. I don’t care how many times I have to die—I’ll find a way."

The god chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. "Bold, but foolish. To kill the immortal, you must do more than wield a weapon. You must step beyond death itself."

Alastor felt a chill run through him, as if the very concept of the god’s words was tearing at the edges of his mind. "Beyond death? What does that mean?"

Anubis’s eyes burned brighter, and the sand beneath Alastor’s feet shifted, coiling around his legs like chains. "Death is not the end, mortal. It is merely a threshold. The priests who built the Pyramid understood this—and now, so must you. To sever the loop, you must ascend beyond the realm of mortals and become something greater. Only a god can slay the eternal."

The weight of Anubis’s words settled over Alastor like a shroud. He wasn’t just being asked to fight Lucius—he was being asked to become more than human. The scarab beneath his sleeve buzzed violently, as if protesting the very idea.

"How?" Alastor demanded. "How do I become something more?"

Anubis gave a slow, deliberate smile—a jackal’s grin that hinted at both wisdom and cruelty. "You already know the answer, mortal. The loop is not your prison—it is your forge. Each death has shaped you, sharpened you. You are closer to ascension than you realize."

Alastor swallowed, his pulse hammering in his ears. The god was right. The loop hadn’t just punished him—it had prepared him. Every death, every betrayal, every fragment of his soul that had been burned away had brought him closer to becoming something else. Something immortal.

"To slay the immortal," Anubis said, his voice booming with finality, "you must become a god."

The spectral sands swirled violently around Alastor, dragging him down as the god’s laughter echoed in the void. The vision collapsed, and the world of the tomb snapped back into focus, the ancient glyph still burning beneath his fingertips.

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The Tombs

Alastor staggered back, gasping for breath as the tomb returned around him. Selene and Aurora stood beside him, their faces tense with concern, but Alastor barely registered them. His mind was spinning, the weight of Anubis’s words pressing down on him like a suffocating cloud.

"What did you see?" Selene demanded, her violet eyes sharp with suspicion.

Alastor ran a hand through his hair, his pulse still racing. "A warning," he muttered, his voice heavy with the realization. "The one who controls death... can’t be killed by mortal means."

Aurora’s brow furrowed, her neural interface flickering. "So how do we stop him?"

Alastor’s gaze hardened, the scarab buzzing ominously against his skin. He knew what had to be done now. Lucius couldn’t be defeated with a blade or a bullet. He had to be fought on a higher plane—a battle beyond life and death.

"To slay the immortal," Alastor whispered, echoing Anubis’s final words, "you must become a god."