Michael slowly exhaled, forcing the restless thoughts inside his mind to settle. There was no point dwelling on future evolutions.
Whether it required five million Evolution Points or fifty million, none of it would change what he had to do today.
His attention shifted toward the second effect of the Mausoleum.
Nether Gate.
Just like Hell, the Netherworld was an independent realm.
A vast world spanning areas far surpassing any ordinary realm, one that existed under its own set of rules, which could differ from universal ones at times.
Throughout countless civilizations, it had been given different names, yet every description carried one mon theme.
The Land of the Dead.
It was a place where the living did not belong.
Michael's fingers unconsciously tightened.
"…"
If he claimed he wasn't nervous, he would only be lying to himself. His previous trip into Hell had nearly cost him everything.
Now he intended to enter an even more mysterious realm with almost no firsthand knowledge whatsoever.
Yet he had no choice. The Demigod's resurrection demanded dark-element treasures of extraordinary quality. The Netherworld possessed them in abundance.
Michael's eyes gradually became resolute.
"What has to be done has to be done."
After a quiet sigh, Michael municated his intention to the Mausoleum.
At almost the same moment, the entire mountain trembled. Space directly before him began folding inward. Unlike ordinary spatial portals, this one didn't tear.
Layer after layer of space quietly descended into impossible darkness. An enormous circular gateway gradually emerged. Its edges resembled weathered black stone engraved with ancient runes Michael couldn't recognize.
Grey flames silently burned along its circumference without producing heat. Within the center there was no light. Only endless darkness.
The darkness slowly rotated like a bottomless whirlpool. An icy aura drifted outward, carrying a profound silence.
Michael stepped forward.
The moment his body crossed the threshold, the darkness swallowed him whole.
There was no sensation of falling, no feeling of movement, no perception of time. The only thing Michael could perceive was silence.
Then his feet touched solid ground.
Michael slowly opened his eyes.
A chill immediately crept through his body. The air felt impossibly dense with energy.
Every breath carried astonishing concentrations of death-element mana, several times richer than even the Mausoleum's darkest regions.
Above him, there was no sun. No moon. No stars. Only an endless expanse of dark grey sky, where enormous rivers of pale blue light drifted silently across the heavens like ghostly auroras.
The land stretched endlessly in every direction. Black earth. Grey stone. Countless dead forests. Mountains rising in the distance like the ribs of enormous buried beasts.
Michael remained perfectly still. His senses instinctively expanded, carefully probing the unfamiliar world around him.
"…"
Then his brows gradually furrowed.
Something was wrong. No, wrong wasn't the correct word. Unexpected.
Contrary to everything he had anticipated, the Netherworld didn't reject him in the slightest. For a living being with, to be humble about it, one of the most powerful constitutions in his rank, that was remarkable.
Instead, it felt fortable.
Michael slowly inhaled. The dense death-element mana entered his body naturally, flowing through his meridians without the slightest resistance.
There was no suffocating pressure, no sensation of corruption, no feeling of his life force being eroded. If anything, he felt strangely refreshed.
Michael's expression became thoughtful.
pared to when he had first awakened over a year ago, Michael now possessed considerably more knowledge about the Netherworld, even if it wasn't extensive. Certainly not enough to be considered an expert. Just enough to understand its basic nature.
The Netherworld wasn't merely rich in death energy. It was a world whose fundamental laws favored death over life.
Every living creature entering this place would instinctively be rejected by the environment itself. Their vitality would slowly diminish. Even their souls would gradually suffer erosion if they remained for extended periods.
Naturally, creatures possessing affinity with darkness or death fared considerably better, such as necromancers, dark mages, and similar existences.
However, better did not mean unaffected. Even a Rank Four Necromancer would eventually suffer consequences. After all, they were still living beings.
Yet Michael felt absolutely nothing. If anything, every breath seemed easier than the last. The dense death-element mana surrounding him almost behaved as though it were weling his arrival.
"…"
His thoughts rapidly turned. Was it because of the Mausoleum? No. The Mausoleum merely opened the gateway. It wasn't actively protecting him. His physique?
Also unlikely. His constitution certainly granted remarkable resistance against negative energy, but it shouldn't pletely negate the Netherworld's influence.
Then a realization suddenly surfaced within his mind.
"…My class."
Michael's eyes widened slightly.
Death's Heir.
The title quietly echoed within his thoughts. Unlike ordinary classes obtained through awakening, Death's Heir wasn't simply an enhancement to his abilities.
It was a special class. One that fundamentally altered his relationship with the concept of death itself.
Only now, after stepping into the Netherworld, did he understand that this class went beyond simply granting dominion over the dead.
He had known this in a general sense, but he hadn't expected it to make him feel like a fish returned to water in the Netherworld itself.
"…I see."
A faint smile slowly appeared on his face. It wasn't until he had changed classes that he truly began to understand how absurd special classes could be.
Michael slowly looked toward the endless grey horizon.
"If that's the case, this expedition should be quite fruitful."
His confidence quietly increased.
Of course, he didn't bee careless because of this discovery.
fort did not equal safety. This world was not an empty one. The Netherworld remained one of the most mysterious realms in existence. Even if the world itself accepted him, its inhabitants might not.
Taking one final glance at the pale blue auroras stretching across the endless sky, he chose a direction and began walking.
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