As Kurou and Riddle were leaving the café, Mahmoud called out to him.
“What?”, Kurou inquired, glancing back.
Without warning, Mahmoud flung a khopesh toward Kurou's chest. Kurou skillfully dodged it, snatching the unsharpened hilt as it passed. “You guys really like to throw weapons at me, don’t ya?”, Kurou remarked, startled.
“And you’re getting better at not being stabbed by them”, Mahmoud quipped, breaking into laughter.
Kurou examined the khopesh he held, admiring its craftsmanship. It gleamed with a bronze hue, etched with intricate Egyptian hieroglyphs. The handle bore a black finish adorned with golden accents and featured a serpent motif at its base.
“Do you want me to keep it?”, Kurou inquired. “This seems more than a regular sword”.
“It’s yours”, Mahmoud replied. “You’re gonna need a real weapon if you want to challenge anything stronger than a thief”.
“I’ll take good care of it, then”, Kurou affirmed. “See you around!”.
As Kurou and Riddle strolled out of the café, his thoughts briefly turned to Tut. "I hope he's not trying to do anything stupid", he mused. Meanwhile, Riddle seemed to catch a scent and darted towards the Cairo Necropolis.
“STOP RUNNING AWAY, YOU MONGREL!”, Kurou shouted and chased after him.
The closer they got to the Necropolis, the louder they could hear the voice of two men and a woman. The woman seemed to be yelling things in languages he couldn’t understand, until she actually screamed the word “help”. Kurou found them in a secluded corner and quickly discerned the situation. The two men were on the verge of sexually assaulting her. Her clothes were torn up, revealing a significant portion of her body. Kurou felt rage boiling up inside him and Riddle snarled at the thugs.
"So you’re the kind of scum who my friend said stains the image of this country, huh?", Kurou said, khopesh in hand. "I guess it’s time to put this new toy to use", he added with a sadistic grin.
The two men looked at him and grimaced, yelling gibberish at him. It felt like they were cursing, but Kurou couldn’t understand crap. It didn’t matter to him anyway: he bolted towards them, swiftly severing one assailant's arm with a deft slash.
The man howled in agony, while the other widened his eyes in disbelief. He pulled a gun from beneath his shirt and emptied its magazine into Kurou. Over twenty bullets pierced his face and torso, leaving wounds critical enough to kill an elephant. Kurou staggered for a second, with his head down and his disheveled hair covering his face.
The assailants froze in place as Kurou wasn't falling dead from the gunfire. Instead, he started laughing.
"Hahahaha...HAHAHAHAHA! Is that all you've got, assholes?", he said out loud and raised his head, showing blood-red eyes and gritting teeth. "Be grateful, as I'm about to teach you a lesson in violence!".
What followed was a genuine bloodbath. Kurou surged towards the man who shot him and cut his hand off, also slashing his leg in a swift sweeping motion that inflicted a deep laceration. The other man was already running for his life, blood spilling from where his arm once was attached to, and Kurou sent a shadow towards him, stabbing him through his back. The man fell to the ground, lifeless.
The man who was holding the gun began to sob, seemingly begging for his life. Kurou's fury had waned, replaced by scorn. He glanced at the woman he just saved, and acknowledged she was terrified to the very core of her soul. She sprinted away as soon as their eyes met, but, in the distance, she looked back. It felt like it was her way of saying thanks.
Kurou lost interest in the stupid man lying on the ground, and had already turned away when the man bellowed, in English: "Burn in hell, monster!".
A shadow projection darted from Kurou's body, beheading the man with a swift strike.
"Look who's calling me a monster", he muttered to himself.
"I see you're enjoying yourself, Post-Mortal", a powerful voice rumbled.
"Who's there? I'm in a very, very bad mood right now", Kurou retorted without looking back.
Riddle was genuinely pissed off at the sound of that voice. Kurou had never seen the jackal so angry and wild. At the same time, he could feel some kind of aura emitting from the growling animal, the same unworldly feeling he caught from the Gods Horus and Amon-Ra.
Before them stood a man, clad in nothing but short pants. Towering nearly two meters in height, his build resembled that of a professional wrestler. His visage was framed by a mane of fur and punctuated by jutting fangs. His fingers terminated in razor-sharp claws, and he emitted heavy, labored breaths. He spoke in the same rumbling tone again.
"You can’t lie to me, Post-Mortal. I know bloodlust when I see it. You enjoyed killing them", the strange man proclaimed.
"So what if I did?", Kurou turned to answer, khopesh in hand. "I just did what I think was the right thing to do. Who are you to say anything?".
"Power corrupts human beings, and their wicked sense of justice leads to war and death", the man said. "That's why I’ve been tasked with the mission of killing you and all your kind".
"Answer me, dog man!", Kurou demanded. "Who are you, and who sent you?".
The man snarled fiercely and lunged at Kurou, slashing his chest with formidable claws before he could even blink. He crumpled to the ground and the man savagely mauled him until they were both drenched in blood.
"Any questions now, Post-Mortal?", he asked with a grin.
"You can't infect me with your rabies, stray dog", Kurou answered.
The man's eyes widened with rage as he howled, repeatedly crushing Kurou's face beneath his foot.
Kurou fell silent for a few seconds, and the man withdrew his foot. To his astonishment, Kurou's head began to regenerate.
Seizing this moment of hesitation, Kurou unleashed a shadow projection, delivering a forceful punch directly to the man's nose. This afforded Kurou the opportunity to reach for his khopesh.
"You freak!", the man growled. "I won't rest until you're dead!".
"Then get ready to die trying, weredog!".
"I AM A WOLF, YOU IMBECILE", the wolfman bellowed, charging towards Kurou. He tried to slash him again, but Kurou managed to parry the strikes with his sword, now better acquainted with his opponent’s speed. Despite sustaining some cuts and bruises, Kurou inflicted substantial damage upon the wolfman, discerning signs of fatigue.
"That shouldn’t be possible", the wolfman grumbled. "I am a God, and you are but a lowly human".
"A God, you say?", Kurou questioned. "I've met Gods before and you don't look like them".
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
"I am Wepwawet, Post-Mortal. I am the Wolf-God of war and death, and I will send you back to Duat, where you should have never escaped from", he said.
"You're here, fighting a lowly human like me, while Egypt is on the verge of destruction. You puny Gods care about nothing but your own desires. You're not any better than me", Kurou said, pointing his sword at the Wolf-God.
"My purpose is clear, Post-Mortal. You are an abomination and must be stopped. That is the will of the Gods", Wepwawet said.
"All right, Wep. You want war? I'll give you war. But it doesn't matter how many battles you win against me, you'll lose the war in the end". Kurou declared. "You can't kill me".
Wepwawet was enraged again, letting out a powerful howl. This time, Riddle stood next to Kurou and howled just as loud, causing the Wolf-God to flinch.
"Why is he with you?", Wepwawet asked, confused.
"He's my buddy", Kurou said. "Lay a finger on him and I'll see you cut in pieces and delivered to your creator on a platter".
"Have I been used, after all?", Wepwawet asked himself. "If he is with you, then...", he went silent for a while.
"Then what?", Kurou asked, impatient.
"I lay down my arms, Post-Mortal", Wepwawet said.
"What? Like that? You're gonna let me go, just because of this fat little mutt?", Kurou asked.
"You're a foul-mouthed bastard who deserves nothing but endless torture, but if your Post-Mortality was something granted by them, then there's nothing I can do. You should be able to sense who that jackal really is, right?", Wepwawet asked.
"Well, I do know he is smart, quick on his feet, or paw...whatever. And I did feel something godly emanating from him during our fight".
"Right. That feeling is the influence of Inpu."
"Inpu...Anubis?", Kurou asked, puzzled. "You're telling me this jackal is Anubis?".
"Not his real form, but yes, it is an avatar of the God you call Anubis".
"Good lord, I've been treating you like a dumpster dog and you turned out to be a God, buddy!", Kurou told Riddle, surprised. The jackal went furious and bit Kurou's ankle.
"OUCH, stop!", Kurou yelled.
"I honestly don't understand why you have been chosen for this", Wepwawet said. "But if that's what She wants, I'll abide".
"Who is she? Who are you talking about? Riddle is a male, you know?", Kurou said.
"When I say She, I'm referring to Ma'at, you ignorant fool".
"Ma'at...", he pondered for a second. "I've heard that name a couple of times now, but I've never actually met her. Is she that powerful to the point of granting me immortality?".
"You shouldn't think of that as a gift", Wepwawet said. "It's just a tool: it can be used for good or bad, and it comes with consequences. You are aware that Ammit doesn't like being fooled".
"I know right. I've escaped that crocodile once and I don't wanna see it ever again", Kurou grimaced.
"So you better steel your spirit, Post-Mortal, for that day will come. Now, you have something better to do. The Egyptian pantheon is vast, but there's a God who's the most problematic of us all".
"Set", Kurou guessed.
"Yes. The God of storms, deserts and violence. He seeks only to destroy what exists and reign over what's left", Wepwawet said.
"What does that have to do with me?", Kurou asked. "You don't expect me to fight that guy".
"If you can't defeat me in a fight, don't expect to defeat Sutekh", the Wolf-God said. "You will definitely need help".
"Not really my specialty, asking people for help", Kurou said, dismissively. "But one or two buddies come to mind".
"Good. Don't expect me to work with you. I can't stand your behaviour around the Gods", Wepwawet affirmed, angry.
"HA, I can't barely stand anything about this place, Wolfy", Kurou smirked. "We're even, I guess".
Wepwawet grimaced but said nothing. As he was about to leave, Kurou called out to him.
"Listen buddy. If I really need to find Set, where should I start looking?".
"Abydos", Wepwawet replied and leaped away with such force that he vanished into the distance.
"Lucky me that nobody saw that, right Riddle?". The jackal was utterly spent, so Kurou gently scooped him up. Riddle didn't take kindly to the gesture and bit Kurou's already bloodied face a dozen times.
"Easy there, buddy! It's time to rest, okay? That was one grueling fight", Kurou said, his tone soothing. After a few snarls, Riddle allowed himself to calm down. Kurou found a nice spot in the shade near the Necropolis, where they were unlikely to be disturbed, and they both drifted off to sleep.
***
Tutankhamon awoke with dizziness and a headache more intense than a hangover. He tried to move, but his hands were handcuffed, and his legs were securely tied to the chair on which he sat. The place was abuzz with people talking and bustling about, but Tut had no way of knowing he was in a police station.
A police detective approached Tut's cell, attempting to communicate, but their efforts resulted in mutual incomprehension. The language the officer spoke seemed similar to what Tut had heard on the city streets, yet he couldn't discern its meaning.
Surveying the surroundings, Tut failed to identify anyone of Ancient Egyptian heritage, rendering his unique abilities useless. He even attempted a few words in Ancient Egyptian, but received only puzzled looks from the police officer. Frustrated, the officer left the cell and informed a colleague. "I think he's speaking Old Egyptian. Call someone who can translate it, I don't know, a scholar, researcher, whatever".
After one hour or so, a man arrived at the police station, and was introduced to Tut's cell without much ceremony. They arranged for a chair, so the man stood face-to-face with Tut. He had the appearance of an old, white-bearded man, but his facial features were surprisingly sharp. He had the perfect image of a scholar.
Recognizing the man's Egyptian heritage, Tut attempted to exert his control but found his efforts futile.
"You can't control me, Tutankhamon", the man calmly stated.
"Who are you?", Tut asked, startled.
"I'm just a priest who's quite honored to meet a Pharaoh, albeit a very young one", the man replied with a smirk.
"How are you able to resist my power? Under whom’s protection are you?", Tut asked.
"I'm not here to answer to your questions, Tutankhamon. I'm here to find out where the golden mask is", the priest declared.
"The mask is no more", Tut declared, solemnly. "It has fulfilled its purpose".
"What did you do to the mask? Or should I ask...what did it do to you?".
"It gave me precious insight, but not of any value to you", Tut replied dryly.
"That's not for you to decide, Tutankhamon", the priest retorted. "I'm certain my King will make good use of your 'insights'".
"You can't scare me, old man. Forces beyond your meagre understanding stand with me, and you'll find nothing but pain if you enrage them", Tut countered in a threatening tone.
"You're not the sole Pharaoh in this land, boy. And certainly not the most powerful. Let me show you what real power looks like", the man declared as he rose to his feet. The police officers knocked on the door, demanding an explanation.
"Pathetic insects", the priest muttered under his breath as he opened a papyrus scroll and began to chant:
"Detestation of you is in my belly, for I have absorbed the power of Osiris, and I am Sutekh".
"STOP!", Tutankhamon shouted, quickly realizing the priest was casting a death spell. Ignoring Tutankhamon's pleas, the priest continued chanting. Tutankhamon struggled in vain, confined to his chair. As the incantation concluded, Tut felt a strong oppression, yet a yellow light, akin to the one emitted by the golden mask, shielded him from the curse.
Regrettably, there was no such protection for the others within the police station, and they lay lifeless on the ground.
"YOU KILLED THEM ALL!", Tut yelled. "You'll pay for this!".
"Interesting”, the priest calmly noted. “I now understand why the golden mask disappeared. You have absorbed its power. My King will be most pleased with this revelation".
"I may not know your King, but he shall surely regret these actions against this nation's people", Tutankhamon warned.
"Are you genuinely concerned for these individuals, who are not even true Egyptians?", the priest asked, his brow furrowing. "You really are short-sighted, young Pharaoh. Now, come along; the King's patience is far from unlimited".
With unexpected strength, the priest removed Tutankhamon from his restraints. Tutankhamon attempted to break free but found the man overpowering. In a final desperate effort to retaliate, Tutankhamon lunged forward to strike the priest, but he stumbled and took a heavy blow in return, rendering him unconscious.
"A feeble young Pharaoh, indeed", the priest remarked. "No wonder his reign ended prematurely". With ease, the priest lifted Tutankhamon and left the police station, his demeanor resembling that of a methodical killer departing a crime scene.