The Beast Of Both Worlds: A Drunk Mythology 24 Night At The Elysium

Team Underworld had been on a lucky streak. With the exception of Prometheus, they suffered but minor casualties and avoided head-on collisions with the enemy, but after tonight, it would be war as it's meant to be waged. Tomorrow it's Zeus, Heracles, Apollo, and the rest of the golden gang actually trying to crush them. They probably have a solid strategy too, what with the undisputed Athena drawing up the tiles.

And when you stop to really think about it, their counteroffensive was the double-edged sword of double edged swords. If even one of their tactics flunked, Zeus' stable would be too much to beat on a fair fight. There was only too much faith to give Hades' inside man, and he wasn't exactly master swordsG.o.d with the Cronkris yet. They had nothing else in the bag save for these one-shot gla.s.s cannons.

He rose out of bed and stroked Minea's hair for a bit. She smiled and huddled for the sheets but didn't wake up. At least one of them slept well, Ginrius thought, returning her expression. Then he kissed her on the cheek because G.o.ds could still be gentlemen.

Minea was the one good thing about that room. Though royal in design, it was still just a section of the Underworld, where everything but the Elysium emanated gloom.

Because of this, Ginrius knew that staying put would only add to the restlessness. So he got dressed, skipped the inexistent free caffeine, and went on to train with the Cronkris. Every bit of mastery improved the odds, which he would take even in measly decimals. All he needed was a s.p.a.ce far from the keep, preferably one where he could lay waste at things of no vital import.

After wandering for a while, he ran into Persephone and her vigil to Styx. The G.o.ddess was hauntingly beautiful in her black, ethereal motif, her silken hair just as dark and long enough to brush the ground. Her skin was icy pale, like her husband's, though it seemed more by transition than au naturel—being a spring G.o.ddess no doubt came with a more vibrant wardrobe.

It made sense for Ginrius to ask for directions; if there was anyone who knew the Underworld better than Hades, it would be woman of the house—better yet, its queen. While the king sat on his a.r.s.e judging souls, she was probably busy tidying the place up. Instead of fumbling around like a wayward spirit, he could pretty please a favor from the best tour guide in the industry.

But for someone like him, it wasn't that simple. While Persephone been nothing but an amicable hostess, it didn't change the fact that he was Hades' b.a.s.t.a.r.d son, one who probably doomed the entire family already. He was guilty for dodging her all this time, even though she kept Minea company since day one. In the following moments, the decision will be made for him.

"Does sleep elude you, young G.o.dsmith?" the G.o.ddess addressed Ginrius, who was this close to sneaking back into the shadows.

Ginrius scratched his head and approached her at last. "Y-yes, your highness," he stuttered. "Please pardon me for interrupting you. I'm gonna go now."

Persephone then turned around, revealing an obsidian pitcher filled with Styx water. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the Cronkris, which Ginrius held like something non-lethal. "I gather you're looking for a place to train?"

His guilt, coupled with the queen's beauty made Ginrius fire-G.o.dlier than ever, blushing to the point of eruption. He was barely able to respond. "Yes… m-my queen…"

"Then follow me—and drop the honorifics," she said. "You are son to my husband, and I know for a fact that your parents have pa.s.sed away. I'm the closest thing you have to a mother."

That comment would have been downright cold, if she didn't smile warmly towards the end. She meant it without a speckle of ill-will, and because of that, Ginrius was able to breathe a sigh of relief. He felt like he could hang with stepmom now—or at least drive her to the grocery. "Should call I you mother, then?"

Persephone walked off to lead. "That would be taking it too far. Persephone should suffice for now," she said without looking back.

The walk was not as bad as Ginrius pictured. In fact he rather enjoyed it, learning about the Underworld landmarks along the way. He was told that the Styx coursed through the premise seven times, leaving but the Tartarus and Elysium untouched. He also learned about the remaining four rivers of the realm, including one that supplied fire to the pits of Tartarus, and another that made the dead forgo their memories. He was even informed that the place they were heading to was found at the end of the fifth river, Cocytus, where the unwanted souls go. The rest of the chat was divided between Minea, Hades, Charon, and what he actually used his ferryman earnings for.

Towards the last bend of Cocytus, Ginrius was introduced to a place called Limbo. It was a hollowed out s.p.a.ce of stygian darkness, housing a denizen of souls that seemed more despaired than tortured. The G.o.dsmith looked for the training ground he was promised, but couldn't find that one patch of uninhabited land. "I thought it'd be empty?" he asked his guide.

"It is," Persephone answered. "These are the unwanted dead: neither worthy of Elysium nor d.a.m.nation of Tartarus. They were improperly buried and there are none to mourn them above ground."

Ginrius was not very keen of the conversation's trajectory. Then again, he may be getting ahead of himself. "Where exactly are you going with this?"

"This is the one place in the Underworld where you could swing that sword without consequence."

"What about these souls?"
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"What about them?" the G.o.ddess threw his question back.

He still couldn't believe what he was hearing. Persephone seemed pretty chill a while ago, now she suggested double death sentence for everyone—all for a lousy swordplay that wouldn't improve in another hundred years. That went south so fast, he didn't have anything prepared against it. "Just to be clear, Persephone, this sword can kill anything, even the dead." Ginrius looked around, and even with his level of comprehension, it was impossible to get an approximate headcount. "These spirits get hit, they're dead."

"Which is why you're not in Elysium—or even Tartarus," she said, casually still. "These souls are unneeded, and if you look closer, you would know that they suffer even more. Depression in the afterlife is not a joke, G.o.dsmith."

Persephone's argument was sound. The souls around them held such irredeemable gloom, not even a G.o.d would be able to lift it. They were depressed, bored to infinity without hopes of ever bouncing back. Seeing them tightened Ginrius' grip on the Cronkris; now he actually considered the mercy of his blade, for whatever consolation it granted.

But moments expired and he accomplished nothing, prompting the G.o.ddess to reaffirm his resolve. "Can you do it? Or should we opt for a different prospect?"

At that point, he caught the deeper meaning in Persephone's suggestion. Come the morrow, he would be faced with the same choice, and reach a turn where it was more about being able to swing the blade than wield it with requisite skill. If he cannot bring himself to destroy, how would he be able to face Zeus and therefore, the aftermath of their clash? Could he bring himself to smite half the planet just to win?

It took another while before he got out of his head and speak. "You're right, I shouldn't be here… I was so caught up with everything that I have forgone some of the most glaring issues. Can you escort me somewhere else, G.o.ddess?"

Persephone agreed to indulge him further. Their next stop became Elysium, an eternal island of green off the coast of Ocea.n.u.s. Its fields were the opposite of Tartarus, and there the mana grew on trees and ambrosia rationed as morning dew. Its only mandate was happiness and its outlaw was punishable by euphoria; everything was brilliant and night only came when you sleep; the sky, earth, and sea were not embroiled in any conflict, instead working together to render paradise whole. Even the ferryman who took them was cheerful, and best of all, free of charge.

As Ginrius' feet touched the banks, he noticed how they felt like clouds. He also felt the waters to be warm and nurturing. The plan was to reunite with his parents before all heck broke loose. It was a necessary stop en route to the climactic war, akin to the quiet before a storm.

"Your parents live close to the sh.o.r.e," Persephone informed him as they walked. "There's their hut right there." She pointed to a small but cozy dwelling just a little ways off the white-sand banks, surrounded by palm trees, c.o.c.ktails, and Coach.e.l.lan vibe.

Ginrius recognized his foster father right away, though he was noticeably different, way younger than he was when he died. He never looked so happy in his life, enough a sight to make Ginrius stop and question his motive.

"Are you hesitant? I thought you wanted to say goodbye?" the G.o.ddess' voice resounded from behind him.

Dying while he was still very young, Ginrius never got the chance to know his mother that well. He remembered her pretty almond eyes, and then some of her kindness and maternal patience, but everything else was a blur. Now that she was within reach, she didn't know what to tell her, or if she'd even want him there. "When G.o.ds die, we don't come here?" he found himself asking.

"Sadly, no," answered Persephone. "It's the price we pay for immortality. When we fall, our essence lingers for the next deity to inherit, and our consciousness drifts to join the stars."

In a sense, they were the same as the souls in Limbo. They had nowhere to go—no-one to keep them. For all their majesty, they were nothing but a c.h.i.n.k in nature and reality, which recurred even beyond retirement. With the balance of the war still tilted against their favor, it may be his last chance to wave his parents goodbye. "I'm suddenly unsure if I should trespa.s.s in this idyllic scene," Ginrius said pensively. "All our lives, Zacleus and I brought them nothing but pain… I think—I know I'm content seeing them like this."

The couple ran around the beach now, forever young, unburdened by mortal trials and tribulations. And just when the two deities agreed on cancelling the meet, Ginrius' mother finally took notice of them, and tugging her partner along, approached them to pay their respects.

Every soul was required to drink from Lethe River prior to designation, which explained why Cletus did not recognize his own adopted son. His mother on the other hand, still felt the connection, though unable to make sense of it. Since Ginrius was a new G.o.d, she decided to address Persephone instead. "Greetings, G.o.ddess, what brings you here with Lord…"

"Ginrius," supplied Persephone. "He is the new G.o.dsmith in place of our fallen Hephaestus."

The couple bowed to their son. Feeling awkward, Ginrius a.s.sured them that salutations were not necessary. The three of them shared a mystifying moment together, before an invitation to the abode was extended. Persephone and Ginrius declined but not without a parting gift for the honeymooners.

Ginrius took a couple of his rings and bestowed it upon his parents, explaining how no union—or reunion for that matter—was complete without its signet. He then embraced them both meaningfully, waved them farewell, and retreated back to their ferry without another word.

When Persephone caught up with him, she discovered the reason behind the rushed exit: The G.o.dsmith was bawling his eyes out. It stung that his parents could not recognize him, but their newfound bliss nonetheless made him happy. The singularity of emotions was too much, cosmic vitality notwithstanding.

The G.o.ddess then slipped her arm around his back, hoping to provide him a semblance of comfort. "Should we call it a night?" she inquired.

Ginrius wiped his eyes clean, before telling her with revived confidence, "No, I'm afraid I still have one last stop."