Machina Arcanis: Two Worlds Collided

TUChapter 6. Growling in the Mist

TU6. Growling in the Mist

High cast-iron walls, extending so far upward they nearly brushed the abyssal sky, stood as the impenetrable border of the Stygian Marsh. Waves from the River Styx crashed relentlessly against the foot of the fortifications — unyielding barriers that had stood since the dawn of time.

“Such a grand structure,” Aurora murmured in awe. She stood beside the Charon, Aeacus, watching as he mumbled a soft incantation to his staff before inserting it into a designated slot on the deck.

A magical chime resonated, and the massive slab of metal ground outward, spilling an red glow from the world within.

“My exact impression when I first saw it, Empress!” Tachyon added with a wide grin.

Aurora quickly snapped her jaw shut, clearing her throat to regain her regal composure. She studied the illumination bleeding through the open gates. The light was red, bordering on a deep crimson, emanating from a spherical source hanging above. Judging by the trajectory of its rays, Aurora deduced it acted more like a massive, focused spotlight than a distant sun.

“A local sun,” Thanatos noted softly, drifting closer. “It has been a while.”

Slowly, the battlecruiser drifted past the threshold of the wall.

A vast marshland unfolded before Aurora’s eyes, defined by its rippling, uneven terrain and skeletal, withering trees. Ghostly mist drifted aimlessly, blanketing random swathes of the landscape in an eerie, suffocating haze. Despite the desolation, the land still whispered of a deeper history. Faint, tragic remnants of spring lingered in the decaying flora — a melancholic echo of an era when Queen Persephone had first coaxed buds and blooms from the barren soil. But such vibrancy now felt like a distant, fading memory.

Beyond the Stygian Marsh lay Leimonopolis. It loomed like a dark mirage in the far distance, with only the flickering lamplight or torchlight of the ruined metropolis seeping out to greet outsiders. Aurora suddenly realised that the local sun she had spotted earlier was situated directly above the city centre.

There were no true cardinal directions in the Underworld, but according to the great Charon, a convention had been agreed upon by the souls residing here. North was simply wherever the observer faced Leimonopolis. Left was west, right was east, and facing away from the city meant looking south. In a nutshell, Leimonopolis served as the equivalent of the Overworld’s North Pole.

Strikingly, to her right, or east, lay the colossal bones of a dragon's skull, ashen spine slithering. The size of a mountain, the ancient remains emerged and disappeared into the passing, swirling mist. Even from this immense distance, the sheer age of the leviathan was palpable.

In a clearing just a short distance from the gate, Aeacus initiated the landing protocol. The terrain below wasn't merely muddy swamp; it was a sprawling platform of thick cobblestone. Billowing smoke caught the amber light, rising from a shimmering furnace integrated into the side of an ancient temple. The temple's grey, moss-covered walls spoke volumes of its long, forgotten history.

Boisterous laughter rang out over the drone of the engines, instantly drawing Aurora’s attention. She eyed the approaching monstrosity in alarm, her hand instinctively twitching toward her hip, uncertain whether it was an ally or a foe. However, the dual, beaming smiles of the two-headed cyclops quickly gave her an answer. Towering easily five metres tall, the giant waved a massive blacksmith's hammer erratically. One head sported a mane of shaggy hair, while the other jutted with massive tusks like a wild boar.

“They are allies, Empress,” Aeacus reassured her with a light nod, his hand yanking a heavy lever.

With a mechanical whirr and the grinding crank of chains, the gangplank was lowered. The payload of passing souls began to disembark in a solemn procession, each spirit fading into the mist one by one. Meanwhile, the cyclops watched them go with overbearing joy, waiting patiently for the ship to empty.

“Odd…” Aurora murmured.

“Which part?” Aeacus asked, snapping his attention back to her.

“I thought you were supposed to deliver them directly to a high judge, rather than releasing them into the wild,” Aurora stated. She watched the last of the souls leave until no one remained on the dock but their immediate party and the giant.

Aeacus chuckled deeply. “One must find their own strength to be judged,” he affirmed, voice soft. His gaze grew distant, while Tachyon fidgeted nearby, clearly unsettled by the philosophical weight of his words.

“Hmm…” Aurora grunted, crossing her arms. There was a distinct nuance behind his words, hinting at the true nature of how this realm functioned. First, she had learned that both the willing and the unwilling could choose either to continue their journey or return to the primordial chaos. Now, they were expected to actively seek out their own judgement? It seemed the Underworld operated with far more autonomy and free will than the mortal myths suggested.

How bizarre. Unless there was more to it, no, there was more to it. She was certain of it.

As she finally descended the declining gangplank, Aurora surveyed the scenery beyond the ancient platform. There were distinct sounds of animals, the rustling of tall reeds, and the hollow glug of air bubbles escaping the thick muck. It was as if living ecosystems thrived here in the realm of the dead. The atmosphere remained as gloomy and dim as one would expect; the local red sun was barely bright enough to penetrate this far out. The seemingly normal, swampy environment almost made her forget about the towering cyclops waiting for them.

“Ohhhh! You must be one of the goddesses,” said the shaggy-haired head. His large, hazelnut mono-eye gleamed with thrilling reverence.

However, the second head snapped to attention, sensing the presence of a true primordial. “Ah! Look, Leon! Behold, the god of death himself,” the tusked head whispered loudly to its twin.

The cyclops immediately dropped his hammer, which struck the cobblestone with a deafening clatter, and dropped heavily to one knee.

“Why, what a delightful surprise!” Thanatos lilted, his lips spreading from ear to ear. “Leon-Idas! You boys are working as shipbuilders now?”

“Yes, my lord! How long has it been?!” Idas, the tusked head, chirped eagerly.

Leon was the shaggy-haired one, his mane a dirty blonde colour reminiscent of lionbane, while Idas had the wild boar tusks. The giant wore a thick, single-shoulder leather pelt over his massive frame, accented by crude leather bracelets. However, his lower body was wrapped in a far more intricate, four-piece armoured skirt forged from ornamental gold. Each plate featured a terrifying repoussé depiction of a Gorgon’s face.

From the sheer quality of the armour, it was clear that Leon-Idas had been handsomely rewarded for their services to the Charon.

Especially in recent memory, Aurora internalised. The recollection was grim. At the onset of the Sixth Apocalypse, the devastating Light of Punishment had consumed seventy million lives in an instant. Hell's shipbuilders and Charons must have been working overtime to accommodate the demands for ferries.

The brief reunion finished, and Thanatos hovered back to her side. A small wave of his hand brought Aurora out of her spiralling thoughts.

“Very well, Empress. Do your mortal thing,” he suggested with a cheeky grin, tapping his own mask where his nose would be.

“Ah.” She had almost forgotten about that; her passive Iasis functioned far better than she had expected. Closing her eyes, Aurora took a long, deep inhalation. Her lungs inflated, testing the moist, damp air of the Meadows. To her surprise, the place simply smelled like earthy mud. It was completely unexpected; she had assumed the realm of the dead would carry the signature, suffocating sulphurous scent of demonic forces.

After a few minutes of waiting, Tachyon and Aeacus emerged from the belly of the ship. Aeacus handed his long oar — which acted as his magical staff — over to the eager cyclops. It was essentially the ignition key to his battlecruiser.

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Tachyon hobbled over, a leather pouch slung across her frame. “Sorry about the mess. We were attacked by the Furies,” the cheetah wildren said, her eyes lingering nervously on the serrated holes punched through the top section of the hull.

“It’s fine, Tachyon! We’ll take care of it,” Leon boomed, while Idas bobbed his head in enthusiastic agreement.

“Thank you!” Tachyon forced a beaming smile, adjusting her pouch so it rested comfortably against her chestplate. It was clear that the party were now fully prepared for an adventure on foot.

“Is it truly fine leaving the ferry like this?” Aurora asked the old Charon, who was busy rewrapping the leather strappings on his greaves.

“Only a Charon can command the ferry,” Aeacus replied with a confident grin. “Besides, this area is highly protected.” He turned and offered a conspiratorial wink to the two-headed giant.

As soon as the party journeyed past the edge of the stone platform, the cyclops began their metalwork. The temple's furnace roared to life, casting high, billowing plumes of smoke into the amber sky.

While Aeacus and Tachyon marched in tandem, Aurora’s footsteps remained nearly soundless. Trailing in her wake was Thanatos, angled like a stalker to her left. There was a cold truth to their formation; as the ancients whispered, Death does not walk beside the mortal — it follows, measuring the distance of the very next step.

Yet, no one seemed willing to address the elephant in the room. Seeing Tachyon suddenly equipped in an oversized bronze cuirass — complete with sculpted, goofy abdominal muscles she clearly didn't possess — made it blatantly obvious that their trek could be incredibly dangerous.

Still, the dynamic felt off. Aeacus had just surrendered his staff to the shipwright, leaving him entirely unarmed.

“Why is the stewardess the only one wearing armour, and not Aeacus?" Aurora murmured absently, mostly to herself. The question prompted Thanatos to chuckle deeply in his throat.

Together, the party navigated the edge of the swamp, journeying across patches of relatively firm soil, their boots brushing against thin, dark blades of grass. There were spirits of the wild here. Translucent, ethereal deer grazed peacefully, only to dart away into the mist when the group drew too close. Occasionally, their path also intersected with the ghostly, wandering apparitions of passing human souls.

Suddenly, a low, rumbling growl shattered the quiet harmony of the red-lit day. The vibration sent glowing spirit-bugs darting upward in a frantic haze. Aurora’s entire body tensed. Her sharp eyes surveyed the movement in the high branches above; spectral birds scattered, the frantic flapping of their wings creating a cacophony of disarray.

“Hostile?” Aurora whispered, her hand hovering instinctively over the side to ready the summon as her gaze locked onto the source of the disturbance.

Not one, but three monstrous muzzles hissed hot steam into the chilled air, followed by three pairs of glowing red eyes piercing through the thick mist. It was the legendary beast, Cerberus. He had stalked them. The hellhound’s size was absolutely massive, easily rivalling the bulk of Aurora’s own Legendary Griffin. A single canine fang was larger than her entire leg. Thick saliva dripped and frothed from its three growling jaws, painting the picture of an untameable, ferocious nightmare.

Cerberus wore a heavy, spiked iron collar around its central neck. Its colossal body was encased in thick, dark armour plating and draped in tattered, shadow-woven cloaks. It was abundantly clear why he was Hades’s favourite beast, entrusted with roaming the outer gates of Leimonopolis.

As the predator drew closer, no one in the party dared to move, seemingly entrapped by the sheer paralysis of its intense glare. Aurora clicked her tongue, her grip tightening as she began to summon her blade—

“Boys!” Thanatos suddenly shouted, flying upwards with both arms thrown wide in greeting.

Instantly, the hostile growling ceased, shifting into a high-pitched, pathetic whimper that was a complete mismatch for the creature's titanic size. A heavy, spiked tail began to wag from side to side with jovial, earth-shaking aggression as Thanatos approached.

It was the first time any of them had seen the fearsome God of Death turn into an absolute bundle of joy. The massive beast bounded forward, licking him and darting up and down. Its actions were no different from an overexcited puppy being reunited with its favourite owner.

“Roll over, boys!” Thanatos commanded between bright chuckles.

The legendary beast immediately slammed onto its back, rocking the very bedrock beneath them as it rolled its thick-furred belly upward. Thanatos vigorously rubbed the beast's exposed tummy. Aurora found her lips tugging upward at how the untameable terror of the Underworld was just a very good boy with three heads in the eyes of the God of Death.

Aeacus and Tachyon watched the bizarre scene unfold with unblinking eyes. Aurora wasn't entirely sure which part shocked them more — the terrifying hellhound acting like a lapdog, or Thanatos giggling like a child. But her bet was likely both.

“Phew…” Aurora hissed, releasing the trapped air from her lungs. She certainly hadn't expected to encounter another legendary beast in the span of just a few centuries. Who knew what catastrophic collateral damage would have occurred if she had been forced to clash with Cerberus? If push came to shove, she might have had to unleash that power. She shook her head. She had been lost in her own thoughts far too often recently; the overwhelming influx of new lore and information continuously made her question the reality of this entire realm, and even her own place within it.

“Empress, come here!” Thanatos waved her over, tugging playfully at the beast's leash — a massive cast-iron chain as thick as an anchor line used to moor a dreadnought.

All three of Cerberus's heads immediately locked onto her, staring her down with an intense, unblinking glare.

“Come on, let them familiarise themselves with your scent!” Thanatos cajoled enthusiastically. “They won’t bite!”

Reluctantly, Aurora stepped forward and hovered her palm near the snout of the middle head. She had never shared this level of casual intimacy even with her own legendary griffin, Ventiff. Such beasts were cataclysms made flesh, terrors capable of levelling entire cities in a matter of days. They were far from domestic pets meant for playing. She was absolutely certain Hades’s personal guardian was just as devastatingly powerful.

The middle head sniffed deeply. As Aurora’s palm finally made contact, the monstrous snout felt surprisingly soft and warm against her skin. The beast let out a low whimper and respectfully lowered all three of its heavy heads, as though bowing to a sovereign.

Thanatos’s smile widened into a proud grin. “It seems your radiant aura is recognised.” He then turned to Tachyon and Aeacus, motioning for the pair to come and try petting the hound as well.

Ever the polite gentleman, Aeacus raised his palms in a gesture of surrender. “My Lord, I believe I shall pass. I know my limits.”

“M~me too!” Tachyon stammered, taking a deliberate step backwards.

“Hmm…” Aurora grunted softly as the middle head affectionately licked her palm. The drag of the incredibly coarse tongue felt strangely satisfying, even if the putrid, rotting stench of the beast's breath was nearly unbearable.

It was like a curse upon her brilliant mind, a ceaseless insatiability for knowledge that she could never quite satisfy.

“According to the mortal myths, Cerberus is supposed to guard the gates to prevent the dead from escaping,” Aurora began, watching as Thanatos wiped his hands clean with a small towel provided by the trembling stewardess. She then shifted her gaze to the former judge. “But didn't you say it was by their own will that they entered Leimonopolis? I can’t fathom why a soul would actively choose to flee back to the treacherous currents of the River Styx.”

Aeacus’s lips parted in hesitation, but Thanatos casually gestured for him to explain. “Go on. It's a good question.”

“Well,” Aeacus mumbled, nervously scratching the side of his head. “You are right to assume that eternity implies a state of permanence. But practically speaking... that isn't entirely how the Underworld operates.”

“You said earlier,” Aurora prompted, her eyes narrowing as the philosophical picture became clearer. “That even here, souls can change their minds?”

“Something exactly like that!” Aeacus blurted, his eyes widening. “And Lord Hades would absolutely hate to lose his… umm… resources. Don't tell anyone I think of him as a hoarder, please?”

Aurora found that logically sound, especially from a stark, bureaucratic standpoint. If one viewed Hell as an expansive empire, its only source of population growth was the steady influx of the dead. The Lord of the Underworld had to do everything in his power to ensure the gates remained thoroughly sealed; it was the only surefire way to guarantee the continued economic and infrastructural growth of his boundless domain.

After Cerberus appeared thoroughly satisfied with the party's scents, the beast lumbered off into the dark mist to resume its eternal patrol. The group resumed their trek, strengthened by a strange new wave of confidence. Time seemed to blur as Tachyon and Aeacus fell deep into a spirited debate over who was the most brilliant among the twelve Olympian Gods. Tachyon proved to be a passionate patron of the sun god, Apollo, while Aeacus was a persistent advocate of Athena's wisdom.

Aurora did not join the fray. She wasn’t a patron of any Olympian twelves. In fact, if she had to pledge allegiance to a pantheon, it certainly wouldn't be to those gods. She exchanged a subtle, knowing glance with Thanatos, sharing a silent nod of mutual respect. Thanatos was of the older, deeper order — a primordial god, the son of Erebus and Nyx.

“Look, we’re here!” Tachyon suddenly blurted, pointing ahead.

They had finally arrived at the true edge of Leimonopolis. The cheetah wildren bent forward, puffing out her cheeks and blowing a massive sigh of relief from her lips, clearly grateful that her bulky bronze armour hadn't been tested in combat.

A ten-metre-high wall of dark, jagged stone emerged from the thick mist. Its crumbling surface gleamed faintly beneath the oppressive red light of the local sun. Certain sections of the fortification had suffered massive breaches, through which the flickering, dancing torchlight of the inner city oozed out into the gloom.

Aurora studied the immensely thick structure, sweeping her analytical gaze from left to right. The ruined perimeter wall appeared to extend indefinitely, materialising from the mist on one side only to vanish back into it on the other.

Leimonopolis must be absolutely boundless, she surmised.

Luckily, they wouldn't have to navigate around the treacherous perimeter to find a breach. The massive metallic gates dead ahead stood wide open, a silent, gaping invitation into the City of Mediocracy.