Hogwarts: Bloodline Legend

"Ferrying souls is not just a journey, it’s a process of cleansing past sins." He slowly lifted the oar, letting Ian see the black mist flowing between the runes, "This oar has absorbed too many sins and negative emotions, only those strong enough can hold it without being devoured."

The black mist continued to surge.

Ian stared at the black mist, faintly hearing the screams and sobs emanating from it. He was silent for a moment, then finally nodded, accepting this reality.

"Reasonable."

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then his body slowly transformed into a giant raven, its wings unfolding, overshadowing the sky. Here he used the transformation technique to make himself a little larger.

Mainly to intimidate the God of Death before him, his figure circled in the air, then suddenly dove down, transforming into a black lightning bolt that flew toward the other side of the Nether River. The river’s surface began to glow with a more terrifying light, countless souls rising and falling in the water, reaching out their arms to try to grasp this one hope.

Like all drowning souls, always trying to grab hold of a lifeline. However, Ian had transformed into the raven, existing between soul and reality, between illusion and reality, invincible. Those extending hands could not touch his feathers, and the wails and cries could not shake his resolve.

The raven’s wings cut through the dull sky.

The dead souls in the Nether River frantically reached out, their decaying fingers nearly brushing Ian’s feathers.

But they couldn’t grasp him.

"The Ancient Egyptians really suffered, unlike our Great Britain’s Misty Illusion Realm, indeed, our Misty Illusion Realm has a much kinder manager."

"I’m certainly not talking about the God of Death! But rather a certain raven!" Ian looked down, the scenes in the Nether River became clearer—countless souls rising and falling, some screaming silently, others wandering aimlessly, and some hugging together, tearing each other apart. This was the manifestation of sin, the eternal torment of the unjudged dead.

Initially, only ordinary dead souls floated on the river’s surface, their expressions dazed, eyes hollow, reaching out pale arms, trying to grasp anything that could help them escape this eternal darkness.

These souls had long lost their reason, leaving only instinctual desire and despair. However, as he flew deeper, the depths of the Nether River began to reveal a different aura—a cold, evil, obsession-filled wave.

"Mortal... Mortal..." A deep, hoarse voice came from below, filled with temptation and greed.

Ian looked down and saw a translucent soul slowly floating to the surface, cloaked in tattered robes, its face blurry, yet exuding an oppressive aura not belonging to ordinary dead souls.

"You have flesh, have life... Why come here?" the soul murmured, its voice seemingly carrying some magic, trying to penetrate Ian’s consciousness.

Ian did not respond, only accelerated his flight.

Yet the soul was relentless, suddenly leaping from the water, transforming into a black shadow, directly pouncing toward the raven!

"Live for me! My knowledge, my magic, my obsessions—you can inherit them all!" it screamed, eyes flashing with madness.

Ian coldly stared at it, his wings flaring, suddenly diving, his beak sharp as a knife, viciously pecking at the soul’s head. He was well aware this soul intended to seize his body.

However.

The opponent clearly chose the wrong target.

"Bang!"

A dull sound, the dark wizard’s soul instantly shattered, turning into a wisp of black mist, swallowed by the Nether River—this was easy, but Ian’s trial had just begun.

More black shadows emerged from the depths of the Nether River.

Like the soul attempting to tempt Ian earlier, they were once wizards, warlocks who died due to sin and betrayal, fallen souls sealed in the depths of the Nether River. Unwilling to sink, longing to return to the human world, and Ian, was their best vessel.

"Wizard... young wizard..."

A hoarse whisper came from underwater, followed by a withered hand breaking the water, fingertips entwined with dark magic power, reaching straight for the raven’s wings!

Ian dodged sideways, his sharp raven eyes locking onto below—the figure was shrouded in a decayed black robe, eye sockets flickering with ghostly green flames, mouth grinning, revealing forest-white teeth.

"Give me your body..." the dark wizard’s soul screeched, its hands forming seals, a dark chain shot from the water, directly toward Ian’s throat!

This was a more direct soul.

"Tsk." The raven let out a disdainful call, its wings flaring, its body sharply rising, evading the chain while suddenly diving—

Peck!

Its sharp beak stabbed into the dark wizard’s soul’s forehead like a blade, the soul body’s head instantly exploding, turning into a wisp of black smoke and dissipating.

"Is that all?"

The raven tilted its head, sarcasm in its tone.

However, this was just the beginning.

The Nether River seemed enraged, more dark wizard souls emerged from the water—they were powerful casters in life, retaining some magic power in death.

Even more aware than ordinary dead souls.

"Boy..."

A female soul whispered gently, her voice sweet as honey, "Would you like to hear my story? I was once a great witch, betrayed and killed... If you allow me to borrow your body, to steal away to the human world and revive, I can teach you all magic... You could even have the perfect me as your wife."

This was a beauty trap.

Only for Ian, it was completely useless.