“The pharaohs of ancient Egypt cared greatly for their tombs.

They were all sorcerers, and even if they died young, they would never allow their final resting place to be built entirely by others.”

“Otherwise, after Tutankhamun’s successor took power, he worked hard to erase all traces of him and his father. Why would he have gone to such trouble to construct so many secret passages inside his tomb?”

Fatima frowned as she spoke, her tone quickening.

“I think, when it comes to Tutankhamun’s tomb, what we should really focus on is which god he himself favored.”

Harris, who had just finished tending to his wounded hand, was helping Dawn burn away the bugs when he joined the discussion.

“That would be Amun, wouldn’t it? If I remember correctly, during Tutankhamun’s reign, many of Aten’s temples were destroyed.”

“No, that might not have been his own decision,” Fatima shook her head.

“At that time, Horemheb held supreme control over both the military and the government. His power far exceeded that of the young pharaoh.”

“And besides, Aten’s followers were all the remnants left by Akhenaten. I don’t think Tutankhamun would have been foolish enough to destroy them on his own.”

Fatima twisted the golden bracelet on her wrist as she spoke rapidly.

Amir, watching the swarm of undead beetles crawling closer, became increasingly frantic.

He gestured wildly, trying to cast a spell to help, but nothing happened no matter how much he waved his hands. Desperate, he cried out,

“For heaven’s sake! Can you two save the history lesson for later? We’re about to be buried alive by these cursed things!”

“Got it! Stop yelling!” Fatima snapped, clearly irritated with him.

Still, their conversation had given her an idea. She took a deep breath, faced the great stone sphinx, and spoke clearly in ancient Egyptian:

“The Sun God, Aten!”

A deafening rumble shook the ground.

The stone blocks forming the sphinx’s face suddenly vanished, revealing a pitch-black opening.

“That’s it! We’re right! Let’s go!” Amir shouted in relief, leaping into the hole without hesitation.

The other three didn’t waste a moment.

Dawn and Fatima followed closely, while Harris hurled one last wide burst of flames behind them before diving in.

Beyond the entrance was a smooth stone chute, its surface polished like glass. It felt much like the secret passage Dawn had once slid down when leaving Hogwarts.

But unlike that passage, this one curved upward after several minutes, forming a U-shape that sent all four of them soaring upward against gravity.

“What kind of mechanism is this?” Amir gasped, feeling himself lift into the air.

No one answered.

Harris and Fatima were just as puzzled, while Dawn was intently watching the magical circuits glowing faintly along the walls, trying his best to memorize their structure.

After what felt like an eternity—

Bang!

With a heavy crash, all four of them were spat out of the chute and landed hard on a narrow stone floor.

This new corridor was much higher than the previous one, tall enough for them to stand comfortably.

Dawn scanned their surroundings carefully. Seeing no immediate danger, he allowed himself a brief sigh of relief.

Beside him, Harris tried to push himself up with his injured hand and hissed in pain.

Fatima quickly reached out and pulled him to his feet. “Mr. Carter, are you alright?”

“Am I? Well, maybe—if we ignore the new life form growing inside me,” Harris said with a strained smile.

He looked down at his palm. The gash that had once revealed bone was now nearly healed, thanks to the potion—but his expression showed no comfort.

“A necro-beetle lays no more than ten eggs at a time,” Fatima said reassuringly, rummaging through her enchanted pockets. “You were only stung once—it’s not too bad yet.”

Dawn noticed that her pockets were filled with all sorts of tomb-exploration gear, even a small black cat, thanks to the Extension Charm she had cast on them.

A moment later, she produced a bottle of bright yellow potion and handed it to Harris.

“I didn’t expect to encounter necro-beetles in Tutankhamun’s tomb, so I wasn’t exactly prepared.

But this—this is a heating draught. It raises your body temperature. The beetles hate heat—it might delay their hatching.”

Harris drank it without hesitation.

Fatima nodded approvingly. “Good. Based on what I know, those things will need at least seventy-two hours to hatch. That’s three days—enough time for us to get out and find proper treatment.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day,” Harris muttered, licking his dry lips.

Fatima shone her flashlight at the floor where they had slid out. The entrance had already sealed itself with solid stone.

“Perfect. Now those bugs won’t be following us.”

Adjusting the flashlight’s beam, she widened the light—and suddenly, tall, colorful figures appeared on the surrounding walls.

Amir jumped so hard he almost screamed—until he realized they were only paintings.

“Gods! That scared me half to death.”

He exhaled shakily, staring at the vivid murals of people and strange symbols.

Dawn looked around too. On the ceiling, he saw a massive sun symbol, with countless hands stretching outward from it like rays of light.

He had no idea what it meant, so he asked, “What do the paintings say?”

“They tell the stories of the gods,” Fatima replied without looking back, shining her light on a green-skinned figure holding a curved scepter.

“For instance, this one—Osiris, god of fertility and harvest. The mural shows him being murdered by Set, the god of the desert, and his body being cut into fourteen pieces.”

Amir frowned. “What’s the point of that story? Everyone knows it. His wife Isis finds the pieces, turns him into a mummy, and revives him.”

“Ah, but that’s where it gets interesting.” Fatima moved the light further down the wall.

“This mural ends with Osiris’s death—there’s no depiction of his resurrection. And look here—” she pointed to another section.

“Anubis, the judge of souls, cuts open his own chest and removes his heart. The scales then judge him unworthy of the afterlife.”

The sight of the jackal-headed god made Dawn’s eyelids twitch slightly. Harris, too, looked uneasy.

Dawn noticed his expression and thought silently. Even after the world’s restoration, Harris still bore the same curse as himself.

Amir slowly began to understand as Fatima continued explaining.

“So… all the gods in these paintings—they’re dead?” he asked, stunned.

“Exactly.” Fatima nodded. She continued along the corridor, her light sweeping across the ancient carvings.

“The serpent of chaos, Apophis, finally devoured the Sun Boat. But the gods struck back, and both perished. The world fell into eternal darkness.

Until one day, an Egyptian pharaoh heard the final whispers of the gods. He gathered their remains and cast them into the corpse of the dead serpent.

From those divine remains, a new light was born. The bodies of the gods became nourishment—

—and thus, the one true god, Aten, was born.”

Her flashlight lingered on the ceiling, where the sun with countless hands glowed faintly in the darkness.

“How fascinating,” Fatima murmured in awe. “So in Akhenaten’s reformation myths, Aten was born from the death of all other gods. This is a major discovery.”

Amir shuddered as he stared at the grotesque figures on the wall. “Fascinating or not, I’d rather know where we are—and if there’s a way out.”

“This seems to be the passage that leads to the pharaoh himself,” Fatima said after a pause.

Amir froze. “You’re joking… right?”

Meet the pharaoh? What pharaoh? The dead one?

Fatima pointed ahead at the slightly upward-sloping corridor. “When the pyramids were built, their designers ensured that no matter where tomb robbers entered from, the paths would always lead downward.

But the pharaoh’s sarcophagus is always placed above. That means we’re walking upward—toward him.”

She hesitated, frowning slightly. “But Tutankhamun’s body was confirmed by the magical authorities long ago—it’s genuine. So whose remains could possibly be sealed beyond this point?”

Amir let out a breath. “Oh, you meant the body. I don’t care whose it is. I just want the exit. Where’s the way out?”

“All Egyptian pharaohs believed in resurrection,” Fatima explained. “So they always left a way to return to the living world.

If we can find the pharaoh’s mummy, we’ll find the way out.”

Dawn said nothing.

He had planned to explore tombs in Egypt one day—but that was supposed to be after he had studied enough and come well-prepared.

Now, trapped in a tomb filled with ancient traps and curses, he couldn’t even read the language.

The best he could do was stay quiet, follow those with experience, and avoid making trouble.

Thinking of this, he tried to Apparate—but as expected, the magic failed entirely.

He sighed quietly.

The group continued walking. The oppressive murals silenced Amir’s chatter.

After an unknown stretch of time, the passage finally opened up.

In the beam of Fatima’s flashlight, about fifty meters ahead, they saw a stone statue as tall as a man.

It was a kneeling figure, its skin painted entirely blue, wearing a tall crown with two long feathers.

“Amun!” Fatima exclaimed.

___________

Upto 20 chapters ahead on patreon :-

patreon.com/BloodAncestor

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep