The dark, sinister waters of the River Styx churned violently. Shifting deathly miasma outlined twisted, wailing faces that swarmed toward the ferry in a frenzy, drawn by the scent of the living.
Charon stirred the long pole in his hands with practiced ease. The ripples spreading across the Styx quickly tore those unwilling spirits apart, scattering them into nothingness.
On the rare occasions something slipped through, the God of Death standing at the stern dealt with it casually, not even requiring Samael or Artemis to intervene.
On deck, Samael rubbed his chin, his gaze subtly shifting back and forth between the ferryman and the God of Death, his expression faintly strange.
"Relax. There's no problem. At the very least, Charon wouldn't dump us into the Styx right in front of his own brother."
Noticing his employer's lingering unease, Sisyphus, clearly well-versed in the ways of the Underworld, leaned closer to Samael and spoke in reassurance.
Ever since Thanatos had taken over the role of guide, Sisyphus had felt a faint sense of crisis. Naturally, whenever there was a chance to prove his usefulness, he was more than happy to step in.
"Brother?"
The ancient serpent paused, then turned to Sisyphus in confusion. The convict immediately obliged, explaining the relationship between the God of Death and the ferryman of the Styx.
In truth, Thanatos and Charon were both sons of Nyx, the Goddess of Night. They also shared another brother: Hypnos, the God of Sleep.
Nyx herself was an existence of extreme antiquity.
According to legend, she, Erebus the God of Darkness, and Tartarus the God of the Abyss were the three earliest primordial deities of the Underworld.
However, because these three ancient gods were embodiments of fundamental laws, they lacked physical bodies. After the world stabilized and the Age of Gods declined, they gradually merged into the operation of the Underworld itself.
For example, Tartarus Prison was formed from the Abyss God Tartarus, while the three layers of dark veils beyond the Underworld's three bronze walls were created from the residual authority of Erebus, the God of Darkness.
So that was the origin of those three veils. No wonder that under their interference, even his and Artemis's perceptions had been severely restricted.
Another point worth noting was that the three ancient deities of the Underworld had not vanished completely.
Each had left behind a physical successor to escape dissolution into nothingness.
Among them, the heir of Tartarus, the God of the Abyss, was naturally Typhon, the King of Monsters. Unfortunately, that troublemaker was still chained up by Olympus.
Erebus and Nyx, the gods of Darkness and Night, had produced multiple successors together, resulting in their authority being far more dispersed.
As for those still openly active under Zeus's watchful eye, it seemed only the three brothers remained: Hypnos, Thanatos, and Charon.
Hypnos and Thanatos were doing reasonably well, each possessing clear and powerful divine authority.
Charon, on the other hand, had it rough. All he could do was row his boat, scraping scraps of faith from passing souls to maintain his current half-dead existence.
Samael didn't particularly care about that.
The world was always changing. The transfer of divine authority and the weakening or fall of gods were simply part of the natural order.
Now, after time had sifted everything through countless trials, Greece had gradually settled into three major factions: the Olympian gods led by Zeus, the sea gods led by Poseidon, and the Underworld gods led by Hades.
In the Underworld, after Hades and his queen, the next in line were the three brothers, Hypnos, Thanatos, and Charon. After them came the three great judges of the Underworld: Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Aeacus.
Compared to Zeus on Olympus, who packed nearly every position with his own people, Hades was a far more decent superior, generous with both authority and autonomy.
As Samael and Sisyphus chatted about Underworld gossip, he happened to glance back and noticed Medea, who had been following him like a little shadow earlier. She was now crouched on the deck, hands braced on her staff, quietly chanting prayers in the divine tongue.
"What's wrong?"
The ancient serpent asked in a low voice, a hint of concern in his tone.
"I can feel Lady Hecate secretly guiding us along the way, so I wanted to thank her."
Little Medea lifted her head and answered earnestly, a shy smile on her face.
"Lady Hecate? Where, where? Why don't I see her?"
Hearing that, Circe immediately chirped excitedly. She leaned in, craning her neck and looking around in all directions.
However, the dense deathly fog blanketing the River Styx made it impossible for the great witch to see anything clearly. She immediately cast a suspicious glance at her young niece.
"It's true! I'm not lying!"
Medea scrunched up her face and protested with conviction.
"She's right. That Underworld Moon Goddess really is here…"
Following the direction Medea pointed, Samael felt something stir. The star-shaped pupils in his eyes opened and closed as he smiled faintly.
The ancient serpent's perception pierced through the surging death fog and extended toward the riverbank. In a fleeting glance, he saw a figure standing quietly on the opposite shore, gazing toward the ferry. She held a Dark Moon scepter, was draped in gauze-like veils, and had violet hair and eyes, with ears that tapered slightly at the tips.
Wait. Her face.
Samael's expression flickered with surprise. He then lowered his gaze and looked at the innocent, clueless Medea aboard the boat with a strange look.
A moment later, the fog over the River Styx gradually thinned, and the ferry slowly came to rest at the shore.
Standing at the crossing that led to the Infinite Wilderness was none other than Hecate, the graceful Moon Goddess of the Underworld.
"Goddess! I knew it was you!"
Medea's eyes lit up at the sight. Overcome with joy, she jumped off the boat and hurried over, excitedly grabbing Hecate's hand.
Yet the Moon Goddess brushed Medea's arm aside without leaving a trace, instinctively taking a small step back.
At the instant their skin separated, Samael caught sight of Hecate's hand beneath her long sleeve. It was pale and almost translucent to a frightening degree, with strands of purplish-red mist stretching and clinging to it like pulled taffy.
"You may return. I will guide them for the rest of the way."
As Samael and the others stepped ashore, Hecate walked forward gracefully, her cool, quiet voice emerging from beneath the violet veil.
Whether it was the aloof God of Death Thanatos or the eccentric ferryman Charon, both bowed respectfully as they listened, their obedience seeming to come from the depths of their being.
Charon then propped up his long pole and ferried Thanatos away, steering the boat back into the ashen fog.
Samael's hand lifted halfway, then quietly fell. He watched the two who knew the truth depart without stopping them.
The ancient serpent turned his gaze toward Hecate beside him, then toward Medea who habitually stayed at his side, his expression thoughtful.
Hopefully, I'm not mistaken.
If that's really the case, then it's worth the risk.
"Your Divine Highness, let's go…"
Samael took Medea's hand and positioned himself between the girl and Hecate, smiling as he spoke.
Hecate gave the ancient serpent a deep look, nodded slightly, and turned to lead the way.
…
Across the Infinite Wilderness shrouded in gray death mist, tens of thousands of spirits, filled with resentment or unwillingness, wandered and clawed at a golden barrier formed from countless densely packed divine runes, refusing to leave.
This wall was known as the [Wall of Sighs], the final barrier separating the [Pure Land of Bliss] from the Underworld.
Cross it, and even the lowliest spirit could obtain the life it had long dreamed of.
More often than not, however, they could only stare and sigh. When that final obsession faded away, the spirits would break down into drifting ghostly flames and eventually become nothing more than pure deathly miasma.
Led by Hecate, the group walked onward from the crossing. Across the endless plains, thousands upon thousands of mindless phosphorescent lights already floated aimlessly.
Buzz!
The Moon Goddess raised her staff and gave it a gentle wave. Instantly, whether resentful spirits or unconscious ghostly flames, all scattered in panic like mice fleeing from a cat, clearing a straight path to the Wall of Sighs.
The group advanced to the radiant barrier. Hecate lightly tapped her scepter, and the rune-shaped structures, like bricks of light, automatically withdrew to either side. Layer by layer, like peeling an onion, they opened to reveal the Pure Land of Bliss at the core.
Following behind the Moon Goddess, the group moved forward uneasily. After breaking through a membrane-like layer of resistance, their dulled senses suddenly sharpened severalfold. The scent of soil, the warmth of sunlight, the sounds of insects and birds were all captured with striking clarity. A powerful sense of vitality flooded their hearts, washing over both body and soul.
At the same time, Artemis's arms suddenly felt lighter. Orion, who had been half-dead just moments before, burst out as if injected with stimulants, scrambling free and charging forward in a frenzy.
Ahead of them, figures emerged one after another from a fragrant sea of flowers. Upon noticing the arrival of guests, their eyes lit up as they hurried over to greet them.
...