Cerulean glow from Crimson Light

Damasen, Ivory, and I sat on the precipice, still shaken from our encounter with the embodiment of Night. It had been a few days, but the weight of that battle lingered, pressing down on us like an invisible force. None of us were quite ready to move forward yet.

At least the precipice had something resembling peace. A small pond—an actual pond, with water—glistened under the eerie light, offering a rare sense of tranquility in Tartarus' never-ending torment.

Ivory had already bounced back, leaping around with an energy only she could muster. She darted between doves and swans, swiping playfully at their wings before purring contentedly as they fluttered away. Watching her carefree antics was a relief—she wasn't trembling anymore like she had in the aftermath of that nightmare.

Damasen sat against the rocky mountainside, lost in thought. He had been trapped in that cursed swamp for eons, stuck in an endless loop of despair. And then, suddenly, he had found himself thrust into a battle with one of the most powerful beings in existence. It wasn't exactly an easy transition.

Still, he had been impressed when I recounted how I'd survived. He even admitted that any doubts he might have had about my past achievements were completely gone. Honestly, that was hilarious.

But yeah, I had to admit—it was probably the most impressive thing I'd ever done. Well, second most. Getting Annabeth to be my girlfriend still topped the list. Gods, I missed her.

I sighed, shaking my head, and sat up. I had been way too close to the edge of the precipice—Thalia would have lost her mind if she saw me. She was terrified of heights.

Stretching my limbs, I walked toward the pond. Ivory immediately perked up and bounded toward me, rubbing her skeletal face against my leg before climbing up onto my shoulder.

I scratched under her chin. "You okay, cutie?"

She purred, golden eyes fluttering shut.

"Good girl," I murmured, feeling the vibrations of her purrs against my neck.

She curled into a small ball of bone and shadows, settling in comfortably. I chuckled, then turned toward Damasen. He was staring at the fawns by the lake, his massive form oddly still. His gaze was distant, yet thoughtful.

I plopped down beside him. "So… you ready to move?"

"Just a little longer," he murmured, his eyes still following the creatures by the water. Then, out of nowhere, he laughed. A deep, genuine laugh. "Haha, look at that."

I followed his gaze.

Two fawns were engaged in the most intense headbutting match I had ever seen. One of them, apparently unimpressed with how things were going, leapt straight into the pond and tried to imitate a dove.

I blinked. "Did… did that fawn just try to fly?"

Damasen chuckled. "It would seem so."

I exhaled, watching the scene unfold. The peaceful sounds of rippling water, soft animal calls, and Ivory's steady breathing against my neck made me realize something.

"This place…" I muttered. "It actually feels peaceful."

And it did. For the first time in a long time, Tartarus wasn't suffocating. This little sanctuary—this strange, impossible oasis in the middle of endless misery—felt like a moment stolen from another world.

I wasn't sure how long it would last. But for now?

It was enough.

"Oh no…" Achelois moaned in despair. "My tree…"

Damasen and I turned as the minor goddess descended from the sky. I felt bad for her—she had been caught in the crossfire just because we came here. It wasn't fair.

"Lady Achelois," I said, rising to my feet and stepping toward her. She landed lightly on the precipice, kneeling beside the fallen bark of her tree. When she turned to look at me, she moved so fast I thought her head might snap off.

"You survived? You survived my mother?" Disbelief laced her voice as her fingers traced the deep black crater where the tendril of darkness had struck.

"Well… it was intense," I admitted. Ivory shifted slightly on my shoulder, still asleep but purring softly. "But yeah… she let me go."

Achelois didn't respond right away. She stood, golden eyes scanning the destruction—the scorch marks, the cracked ground. Then, in the distance, she spotted it: the massive crater where the largest tendril had clashed with my Poison Hurricane.

"Perseus Jackson…" she whispered.

"Percy. Uh… Percy Jackson," I corrected.

She shook her head as if trying to process it all. "This is… unbelievable."

Achelois began pacing but stopped when she saw the fawns and doves. The moment they spotted her, they rushed forward, a flurry of feathers and tiny hooves. She knelt, stroking the doves, feeding the swans, letting out a long breath.

"My home… shattered, but not lost." She looked up at me, her expression softer. "Thank you for taking the fight away from here."

"Well… it was kind of our fault…" I started, but Damasen remained silent. He had been unusually quiet since our encounter with Night—more subdued, almost… contemplative.

"No matter," Achelois murmured. "My mother is not known for her mercy." She absently stroked a dove's wing, her fingers lingering as if grounding herself in the motion. Then, suddenly, her gaze locked onto something.

The compass.

The one Night had given me.

Achelois's golden eyes widened. "She even gave you a way out?"

To my surprise, she laughed—a quiet, almost disbelieving chuckle at first, before shaking her head and letting out a full, amused laugh. "What in the world did you do to make her favor you?"

I opened my mouth, ready to explain the insanity of it all—our meeting, the impossible challenge, the sheer chaos—but before I could say a word, Damasen cut in.

"In a nutshell, she challenged him to land a single hit while she toyed with him. If he succeeded, we'd be free, and she would help."

I nodded. That was… definitely a more efficient way of putting it.

"And you did it…" Achelois chuckled, disbelief still heavy in her tone. "You actually succeeded? How long was the fight? I've been gone for… what, a year? Maybe five? But you two are still here."

"A year or five?" I blinked. "It's only been, like, a week or two. The battle itself lasted about six or seven hours."

"Oh, that makes sense." Achelois nodded, still stroking the animals. The air shimmered faintly as her presence healed the precipice. "Ever since Gaea went dormant after the war, time between Tartarus and Earth has been out of sync…"

The words hit me like a truck.

"No… no…"

My knees buckled. My breath turned shallow.

No. No, no, no.

I started pacing, my thoughts spiraling.

"Percy? What's wrong?" Damasen asked, his deep voice laced with concern. Achelois frowned, clearly confused.

"I've been here for so long…" My voice cracked. I sank to the ground beside the pond, the weight of it all crushing me. "How many years have passed since I came here?"

My vision blurred. What if it had been decades? What if—

"Meow?"

Ivory stirred, sensing my distress. She rubbed her cheek against mine. "Mew, mew," she chirped, trying to comfort me, even though she didn't know why I was falling apart.

I forced myself to look at Achelois. "What year is it… back on Earth?" My breath came ragged.

Achelois hesitated. My stomach dropped.

"I… I don't know," she admitted, wincing. "Time is… difficult for immortals. And I rarely go near civilization. I prefer the company of animals, plants, and the moon…"

I turned back to the pond, my reflection a distorted mess in the rippling water.

This couldn't be happening.

I had to get out. I had to go back. Now.

"Urghh!" I slammed my fist into the ground. Frustration boiled over, twisting into something dangerous. My hands clutched my head. I barely noticed the tremors beneath me.

"Percy! Percy! PERCY!"

Strong hands gripped my shoulders. "Calm down!"

I met Damasen's gaze. He saw it—the fire burning in my eyes. The unshakable determination.

I needed to get out.

I needed to see my friends.

I needed to see my family.

"Damasen, get ready… We are leaving," I said softly, gripping the compass. I glanced at Ivory and lifted her onto my shoulder.

Time was slipping. I couldn't let it.

I turned back to Achelois and nodded in gratitude. "Thank you, Lady Achelois. For everything."

She gave a small smile, then lifted her staff, the crescent top glowing softly. With careful precision, she touched the ground where her tree once stood. The earth trembled slightly before a small sapling sprouted—dark as the abyss, adorned with golden-silver fruit, a miniature version of the one destroyed.

Achelois sighed. "It will take time, but this place will heal. You can rest here if you wish."

I shook my head. "I appreciate it, but we need to move."

She gave a knowing nod. "Then go safely, Perseus Jackson."

I looked toward the direction the compass pointed—away from the fragile sanctuary of the precipice and into the vast, crimson wasteland of misery. The dark unknown stretched before us, endless and unwelcoming.

With a deep breath, we stepped off the precipice and descended into the abyss of this forsaken land.

The domain of Misery was just as miserable as ever. The air was thick with poison, its acrid scent clinging to my lungs. But I kept a steady grip on my powers, purifying the air around us, ensuring we could move forward without choking on the atmosphere.

Despite the suffocating gloom, there was something… odd.

Nothing attacked us.

Monsters and spirits lurked in the distance, their forms flickering in and out of the shadows. But the moment they spotted us, they hesitated. Then—just like that—they turned and vanished into the darkness.

Even the snakes—large and small, venomous and strong—slithered out of our path, retreating without a fight.

That was new.

I had seen monsters hesitate before. Some showed frustration. Some even showed wariness. But outright fear? The kind that made them run in the opposite direction rather than challenge us?

That was rare.

Was it because of my fight with Nyx?

Had the news of our battle spread that quickly?

Or was it something else—something deeper, tied to the fact that this domain belonged to her daughter?

I wasn't sure.

But whatever the reason, I wasn't going to complain.

For once, Tartarus made our journey just a little easier.

—Line Skip / Eight Days Later—

"Is that the edge?" Damasen asked, his naturally gruff voice carrying a rare hint of unease. Ivory leaped onto me, golden eyes wide with curiosity as she tried to get a better look.

"This is so... not good," he muttered, almost in shock.

I didn't blame him.

Before us stretched an endless pit—an abyss so vast, so empty, it swallowed existence itself. There was no bottom, no movement, no sound. Just pure, unyielding darkness. The kind that came before all things and would remain after all things.

The abyss of Khaos. Or Chaos.

"Yeah... not the greatest thing in the world," I muttered, unable to shake the eerie weight pressing down on me. My gaze flicked to the inky black river beside us—the Styx, roaring as it flowed straight toward the abyss. Fallen hopes, shattered dreams, and broken futures, all rushing into nothing.

We had been traveling for days, maybe weeks, through this forsaken land. At first, the terrain had been jagged, cruel, even by Tartarus' standards. But as we moved forward, it changed—flattening into something resembling a frozen savanna, bleak and frigid, dotted with lava lakes.

And then we had reached this.

A dead end.

We had followed the river, walking along the jagged cliffs, searching for a way to cross. But instead of a bridge, we had found the edge of existence itself—where Tartarus' most wretched domain met the most ancient void.

Chaos. The omnipotent.

We walked until we were only a few dozen feet from the precipice. I had to admit—in a terrifying, mind-shattering kind of way, it was beautiful. The Styx, this river of ruin, didn't crash into the abyss like a waterfall. Instead, it thinned out, fading into smaller and smaller streams, trickling down drop by drop, until there was nothing left.

The abyss did not pull. It did not push. It was simply there—an expanse of perfect, absolute nothingness.

A place for the forgotten. A graveyard for shattered hopes.

"Mew," Ivory mewed softly, transfixed by the sight.

I swallowed, forcing myself to look away. This was beyond me. Beyond what I could—or should—understand. To grasp the chaos of nothingness… to truly comprehend it… would drive me insane.

I dared not gaze into the heart of the abyss, because the absence of presence was far more haunting than the presence of evil.

"Well… this is a dead end," I muttered, tearing my eyes away. Literally, the dead end of the world.

"Yes," Damasen murmured, eyes still fixed on the eternal void. "That wouldn't be wrong."

Ivory jumped from my shoulder to his, climbing onto his head like the view might somehow change if she was just a little higher.

"Snap out of it." I patted his massive hand, breaking his trance. "We have a bigger problem right now."

Damasen sighed, rubbing his face before turning his attention to the river. It flowed in a deep, terrible gorge beside us—a chasm of jagged rocks, seeping lava, and toxic mist.

"How do we cross it?" he muttered.

I exhaled, staring at the black, churning water below.

"You think your powers could do something with the Styx?"

"Probably." I rolled my shoulders. "I could try stopping the flow…" I trailed off, remembering how I had nearly drowned in the river during my first moments back in Tartarus—only to split it in half out of pure, desperate will.

"But even if I stop it, we'd still have to go down the gorge."

Fifty feet deep. Jagged rocks. Lava seeping between cracks. Poison dripping from the stone like venomous tears.

So, basically, just like the Mississippi.

"I hate these Underworld rivers," I sighed, squinting down at the Styx. "Phlegethon is decent. Acheron's tolerable, I guess."

Without wasting any more time, I carefully started making my way down the gorge. The last thing I needed was to slip and break something on Tartarus' version of a rocky staircase.

That's when I noticed them.

Weird purple, orange, and violet blobs bounced around the terrain, shifting and rolling like sentient slimes. They had tiny, eerie eyes and toothless mouths, moving in a way that was almost playful—if not for the fact that we were in the literal pit of hell.

I glanced at Damasen.

"I don't know," he shrugged, stepping carefully over a boulder larger than himself. No easy feat, considering he was a literal giant. After a few seconds, he added, "Probably some type of poison spirits. Or lava spirits."

They didn't seem aggressive.

POP!

One of the blobs exploded out of nowhere, spraying its body-colored goo in all directions.

I raised a hand, instinctively summoning my power. The liquid froze in midair, suspended like a grotesque, floating mosaic before I redirected it away from us.

"So they're just disgusting?" I muttered.

"Mew," Ivory mewed in disgust. If she had fur, she'd probably look like a cartoon cat that just got electrocuted.

"Yeah, pretty much. Just disgusting." Damasen let out a low chuckle, watching the other blobs shuffle away. "Neat trick, by the way—prevents us from constantly dodging."

"Well, I am a demigod," I said, waving my fingers dramatically. "You, on the other hand, could probably just walk through them like an indestructible wall."

He smirked. "Yeah, yeah. But you're not just a demigod," he added.

I rolled my eyes. Ivory, meanwhile, had abandoned her perch on his head and was now trotting happily down the steep terrain, weaving between rocks like she was on a playground.

She really liked slippery slopes for some reason.

Cute little minx.

But we were already close to the river. Whatever lay ahead—whether it was a crossing or another dead end—we were about to find out.

"Crossing me, are you?"

The Styx churned, rippling and twisting as if it had come alive. The voice echoed from the whirlpool itself, deep and layered with something ancient. Then, with the grace of a queen, the inky black water surged upward, twisting into the shape of a woman.

For a few seconds, her form remained liquid, filling itself like an overflowing vessel. Then, the shadows receded, leaving behind icy pale skin and cold, pitiless eyes. The goddess of oaths, the one who maintained divine bindings, stood before us.

"Pretty astute," I blurted before I could stop myself. In my defense… I am sleep-deprived.

Damasen, ever the polite one, quickly stepped in to prevent me from making things worse. "Lady Styx, we wish to cross your river."

Styx's piercing gaze landed on me first, narrowing slightly as if assessing something. Then, to my surprise, she turned to Damasen with a stiff, knowing smile.

"Damasen, right? One of the decent giants. Congrats on breaking the curse."

Damasen blinked, clearly caught off guard. He hesitated before inclining his head slightly. "Thank you," he said as politely as possible. But I noticed the way his jaw tightened—he was uneasy around her.

I was about to ask why when Styx turned back to me with an exasperated sigh.

"Yes, yes, you want to cross the river." She rolled her eyes and slowly descended from her whirlpool throne, her bare feet hovering just above the water's surface. "You have a compass from the Feared Lady that will help you escape Tartarus. I know."

I stared at her. "What… the hell?" I muttered under my breath. Then, shaking my head, I asked, "How do you know that?"

Styx let out a dramatic sigh. "You've been walking along my river." Her tone made it sound like I had committed some mild inconvenience, like stepping on a cat's tail. "For, I don't know… three or four days?"

Damasen and I exchanged glances, both equally thrown off. Styx had been watching us?

Yes, we had been walking beside her river, but still—why? Didn't she have more important things to do, like enforcing oaths and ruining people's lives?

She must have caught on to our confusion because she smirked. "Don't look so surprised." She shrugged. "It's quite fun to watch when you have as many liberties as I do across different domains."

I frowned. "That doesn't explain why—"

"And," she cut me off, "you happen to be one of only three humans to ever receive my blessing. Or curse, as some might call it. That makes you interesting."

Oh, fantastic. Another deity who thought I was interesting.

"Great," I muttered. "Do I get brownie points for that?"

Styx gave me a flat look. "No, you don't."

She turned her gaze toward the abyss, her expression unreadable. The way her dark eyes swirled, reflecting the churning black water, made it clear she was calculating something.

Finally, she spoke.

"I have a quest for you, demigod."

I closed my eyes, exhaled slowly, and reopened them. "A quest."

"Yes, a quest." Her voice remained even, but something about the way the river raged behind her made it clear—this wasn't optional.

"You will complete it," she continued, "and I shall allow you to cross my river freely."

For fuck's sake.

I had so many things to do. And now she was slapping another quest on my already overflowing to-do list?

I quickly debated my options. I could probably part the river if I tried hard enough. Now that I was standing so close to it, I could feel that power—the same raw, unyielding force I had tapped into when I split the Styx in half before.

But if Styx opposed me? It wouldn't work. She was the river itself.

And not just any river—the most powerful river in existence.

I really didn't want to piss her off. Even gods feared the consequences of breaking their oaths to her.

She locked eyes with me, her voice sharp. "Do you accept, Perseus Jackson?"

I sighed. "Sure."

Damasen raised an eyebrow, surprised by how quickly I caved despite my earlier sarcasm.

"Tell me the quest. Damasen and I will do it."

"Only you." Her words cut through the air like a blade. "Only you will undertake this quest. He shall wait here."

Damasen stiffened. "What? Why not me?"

"I don't trust your kind." Styx's tone was cold, dismissive—almost cruel.

My eyes narrowed. I had the sudden, almost overwhelming urge to blast her into her own river.

But Damasen didn't seem angry.

In fact, he looked… solemn.

Something was going on here. Something I wasn't seeing.

Styx met my gaze again. "A long time ago, a body floated down my river and eventually fell into—" she gestured toward the abyss "—the Eternal Nothingness."

I frowned. "A body fell into Chaos?"

What kind of quest was this?

"Yes," she said impatiently. "That body had a ring on its finger, which fell just at the edge before the body was lost."

"At the edge?"

Her words carried weight. More than just geographical weight.

"Yes… the very edge."

Her gaze darkened. "You will have to climb down to the precipices where only thin rocks hold you from falling, where Tartarus itself floats in nothingness. Somewhere there, you will find that ring.

"Return it to me… and you shall have safe passage."

Damasen's expression shifted instantly. His massive frame tensed, and his voice hardened.

"You can't send him there."

Styx's eyes flashed with anger. "You wouldn't understand, giant." Her voice turned razor-sharp. "He was your friend, but he was my son. And the earth took him in revenge—while I was busy with my duties."

Wait. Her son?

Damasen clenched his fists. "What good will a single ring do? It won't bring him back."

"Then you shall bear my curse for eternity," Styx snapped.

Damasen flinched. That single moment of hesitation spoke volumes.

"What are you two talking about?" I demanded, my patience wearing thin.

Styx straightened. "Just bring me the ring."

Damasen looked like he wanted to protest again, but before he could, I spoke.

"Okay, I'll do it."

Damasen turned to me, his face etched with concern. "No, Percy!"

"Good," Styx said, satisfied. Without another word, she dissolved back into the inky water, vanishing as swiftly as she had appeared.

Damasen turned back to me, his voice low, almost fearful.

"You can't go there…" He swallowed. "That place is worse than here. No one has been closer to the Original One. If you take one wrong step, you won't just die—you'll cease to exist. No comebacks. No second chances."

I held his gaze. "Then I just won't take a wrong step."

Damasen exhaled harshly, frustration clear on his face. "You're impossible."

I checked my gear—daggers strapped to my belt, Riptide at my side, and my usual lack of common sense. Seemed like I was ready.

I turned to Ivory. "You stay here."

She mewed in protest.

"No. Both of you. I need to do this alone."

Damasen shook his head, clearly unhappy. But he knew—I wasn't changing my mind.

It was a bad idea.

I knew that.

There were probably a dozen other ways to cross Styx's river without doing this. But… a quest was a quest, I supposed. And my instincts—the same instincts that had saved my life more times than I could count—were screaming at me to keep going.

So, I walked.

The river raged beside me, its ink-black currents crashing into themselves, sending up cold sprays of liquid darkness. Whirlpools twisted along its fifty-meter-wide flow, swirling with the weight of forgotten oaths, shattered promises, and gods-know-what-else.

This was just one of Styx's tributaries. One of the many veins that fed into the Abyss. There had to be hundreds more, spreading across Tartarus like the circulatory system of something ancient and malicious.

Tartarus itself wasn't as large as the mortal world, but it was massive—at least the size of a continent, maybe even multiple. And yet, only five rivers ran through it. That alone said enough about their power. Each one carried as much raw energy as a major god—maybe even a Titan at their peak.

Ahead of me, the slime spirits bounced and squirmed at a distance, keeping their sickly, pulsing forms well away from my path. I ignored them. I had bigger problems.

After what felt like hours, I finally reached the edge.

The river didn't stop. It simply bled into the void, spilling drop by drop into Chaos. But instead of crashing downward like a waterfall, the water dissolved into the darkness—fading into the nothingness like a whisper, like it had never existed in the first place.

"So this is Chaos," I murmured, peering down.

The ledge beneath me stretched deep—hundreds of meters, maybe more. The darkness was too thick to see beyond a certain point, swallowing everything like an endless, waiting maw.

I'd have to climb.

I sighed. "Yeah… this is basically a visual representation of my life."

Crouching, I placed a hand against the rock, testing for stability. The surface was solid, rough—not slippery, thankfully.

That meant it was all up to me.

Great. No complaints there.

Slowly, I lowered a leg, pressing my foot against a small protrusion, then carefully shifted my weight downward. Inch by inch, I began my descent.

The deeper I went, the darker Tartarus became. The usual sickly blacks, deep reds, and purples faded, replaced by a color that wasn't a color at all—just absence.

About thirty minutes in, I spotted a narrow ledge, maybe three feet wide. I climbed toward it slowly, my fingers aching from gripping jagged stone for so long. Finally, I pulled myself onto the platform and sat down, letting my arms dangle over the edge.

"Yeah… among all the crazy things I've done, this is definitely up there."

Above me, droplets from the Styx dripped eternally into the void, their ink-black forms vanishing into nothingness.

Then, from nowhere—

"It's a beautiful world beyond…"

I stiffened.

My head snapped around, scanning the darkness.

Nothing.

I let my magic flare, sending a soft golden glow rippling over my skin.

Still nothing.

A slow chuckle escaped my lips. "Yeah, I'm officially going mad."

After a few more minutes of rest, I stood and checked the path below. Still a long way to go. I inhaled deeply—only to pause.

Something was… strange.

The air here was shallow, yet breathable. It didn't feel thin, exactly—more like it wasn't there at all. Like it was forming around me as I needed it. No moisture. No scent. No toxins.

Just… nothing.

Weird.

I shook off the unease and kept going.

The lower I climbed, the easier it became.

More ledges appeared. Small caves dotted the cliff face. Outcroppings jutted out at just the right angles, almost deliberately placed—like the Abyss itself was inviting me downward.

And then—

"Come home… beyond this nothingness…"

I flinched. My grip tightened.

That voice again.

I whipped my head around. Still nothing.

"Just keep moving, Percy," I muttered under my breath. "Just a little further."

"It's waiting for you… enter the world beyond…"

My teeth clenched.

I climbed faster.

The whispers didn't stop. They weren't even threatening—just persistent. They spoke of a "world beyond," of leaving chaos behind, of something waiting for me below.

And yet… physically, I felt fine.

Too fine.

I wasn't hungry. I wasn't thirsty. Breathing was effortless, despite the eerie lack of air. My muscles weren't aching. The climb, while exhausting, wasn't actually draining me.

It was like this place didn't follow the rules of survival.

And that was the most terrifying part.

Then—

My glow flickered and died.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

I inhaled sharply, pressing a hand against the rock. My pulse hammered in my ears.

I tried to summon my power again. Nothing.

I closed my eyes, concentrated—willed the light to return.

Still nothing.

"Enter this peaceful world beyond… leave the chaos behind…"

A chill ran down my spine.

I cursed under my breath, extending my leg, searching for the next foothold. My foot scraped blindly against the rock.

Climbing blind was infuriating. More than that, it was unsettling.

The loss of my power, the way this place ignored basic survival instincts—everything about this descent felt wrong.

I reached lower, stretching my foot toward the abyss, and—

Plip-plap. Plip-plap.

Styx Water.

My foot met solid ground. A shallow pool spread dispersed into the void before me, its surface rippling with unseen currents, shimmering and wisping.

I had reached the bottom.

The edge.

The darkness pressed against me, thick and endless. The whispers were louder now, their words lapping against my mind like waves.

"Join us… for the world beyond…"

I gritted my teeth and ignored the voice.

I took a careful step forward, testing each movement, making sure the ground was real—that I wasn't about to walk straight into the void.

Now came the real challenge.

Finding the ring.

Without light, without my power, how was I supposed to—?

Idiot.

Why didn't I think of this sooner?

I crouched and listened.

The Abyss was silent, but the Styx still trickled drop by drop into the void. The ring, if it was here, had to be somewhere along this precipice.

if I searched every inch of this place, I'd find it.

I just had to be fast.

I pushed myself up, turning—

And then I saw it.

A figure.

Wait—saw?

Not exactly.

It was more like a silhouette—except not. Like darkness made visible within darkness. A shifting shape, blurred yet sharp, still yet moving.

Something inside me twisted.

Not just fear. Not just instinct.

Something deeper.

Every nerve in my body screamed at me to move. To leave.

Because this presence—whatever it was—was wrong.

Not in the way Nyx had been. Her power had been suffocating, overwhelming—but still something I could comprehend.

This?

This felt like my brain was trying to process something it wasn't built to understand.

My legs buckled.

I slipped.

Panic surged as I scrambled for the ledge, fingers catching just in time. My legs dangled over the abyss, kicking against the sheer rock of Tartarus.

Kicking against nothingness itself.

One would think that, in a moment like this, my brain would be screaming a stream of curses—at Chaos, at Ananke, at the Fates, at Styx—basically everyone responsible for my current predicament.

Instead, my mind had exactly one thought:

AHHHHHHH!

The ledge shifted beneath me.

My boots scraped against rock, searching for a foothold. Above me, the figure remained still.

Yet—I could see it.

Hear it.

Smell it.

It smelled like an ancient library. Like spring and autumn, summer and winter.

Like blood and roses.

Like something vast and unknowable.

It was nothingness—yet impossibly, undeniably, it was there.

And then, it spoke.

"Climb up, child."

The voice was ancient. Not like Nyx—not even close. This wasn't just old. It was beyond time itself.

It felt like it had been here before the first dawn.

Like it had been waiting.

My muscles burned as I forced myself up, teeth clenched, swinging my leg onto solid ground.

"Here," the figure said.

Chains rattled as it moved.

Instinctively, I caught what it tossed toward me.

Something round. Smooth. A hole in the center.

Wait.

No.

Oh my gods.

The ring.

Oh my fucking gods—the ring!

"Uh… thanks?" I said uncertainly, staring at the shadowy figure. I wasn't even sure who I was thanking. But one thing was clear—this being was ancient.

Older than ancient.

"Who… are you?"

The figure let out a laugh.

A terrible, bone-rattling laugh.

The entire abyss shuddered in response.

"I am the harbinger of change. The one who will inherit the next world when this one ends. The one who will claim the void itself—

I am Aeon."

A chill crawled down my spine.

That name meant nothing to me.

No myths. No legends. Not even some half-forgotten prophecy.

And that—that—was what made it terrifying.

"...Sorry? Eon?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. Probably not the reaction he was expecting, but in my defense, I had never heard of him before.

Hard to be scared of something that wasn't in The Big Book of Things That Want to Kill Me.

"It's Aeon," he corrected, irritation creeping into his voice. "A-E-O-N." He spelled it out slowly, like he was teaching a toddler.

"That's what I said. Eon."

"No." I could feel him shaking his head. "It's Aeon. More emphasis on 'AE.'"

"Jesus Christ, fine. Ae-on."

He hummed approvingly. "Good job, child."

His tone had the condescension of someone praising a dog for not peeing on the carpet.

"I must admit, I'm impressed. I fully expected you to plummet into my father's domain and be erased from existence."

I paused.

Wait—your father's domain?

"…Who is your father?" I asked, suddenly not sure I wanted to know the answer.

"Chaos," Aeon said simply. "My mother, Destiny, also enjoys playing with your life. The two of them, along with Time, are my… family."

I blinked.

The Primordials of Time, Destiny, and the Abyss were his parents? My brain hurt just thinking about that family tree.

"You expect me to believe that?" I asked dryly. "I've never even heard of you before. Not even as a footnote in some ancient scroll."

Aeon chuckled. "Of course you haven't."

"You mortals whisper stories of gods and monsters. Even Primordials become myths in time. But I?"

His voice took on a strange, wistful amusement.

"I was never a myth to begin with."

"I have never been seen. Never been known. Not even in forgotten texts.

"I am merely a memory buried so deep that not even Time itself bothers to recall me.

"And yet—I will be the last thing left when this world ends."

...Yeah. That wasn't ominous at all.

"Right. Well… thanks, I guess?" I said, still not entirely sure what to make of this guy.

"So… I'll just be on my way, then."

"Aw, come on." Aeon sounded almost offended. "Stay for a bit. I've been stuck here since the dawn of time with zero visitors. A conversation won't kill you."

"You've been stuck here since the creation of the world?" I asked, shocked.

"Oh yeah." He sighed, as if recounting some mild inconvenience. "My three parents decided I was destined to rule the next universe, so they chained me here until this one ends."

"…That seems a little excessive."

"Tell me about it." Aeon sighed, as if discussing a mild inconvenience. "Oh, and before you ask—I know English because, despite being stuck here, I'm still omnipotent. Like my father, Chaos."

I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, he cut me off.

"And yes, I will let you go, you paranoid son of a bitch." Then he added, almost offhandedly, "For the record, I'm calling Poseidon a bitch. Your mom was actually pretty decent."

"Uh… thanks?" I said, completely thrown.

A beat of silence. I shifted awkwardly. Then, curiosity got the better of me.

"If you're omnipotent… why are you chained?"

Aeon snorted. "Good question." He chuckled, then gestured lazily at the heavy bindings. "These chains were forged by the combined power of the Original Three—Chaos, Time, and Destiny. They'll only break when I surpass them all."

"That's… a lot of power," I muttered.

"Yup." He sighed. "They bind almost all my abilities. The one exception is my omniscience. Which means I get to sit here and eavesdrop on all the idiots across the different Primordial Manifestations."

"You seem weirdly chill about being imprisoned for eternity," I said, more confused than ever.

Aeon's tone turned thoughtful. "I may be stuck here, but I've lived a million lives above—experiencing the world through the eyes of mortals, seeing moments that happen only once. It's fascinating."

"So… you know all about me, then?"

"Oh, absolutely." His chains rattled as he shrugged. "You have a very tragic and very interesting life."

I tensed. "And?"

Aeon hesitated. Then, with a hint of amusement, he said, "Something tells me it's only going to get more interesting."

My stomach dropped.

No, no, no. Not more. I was already dealing with way too much.

"But hey, I could be wrong." Aeon shrugged, tone almost indifferent. "Even a single choice—one seemingly insignificant decision—can change the course of history. And I can't exactly influence anything, since—" He rattled his chains for emphasis, the sound echoing like distant thunder.

I nodded slowly. "Yeah, you're stuck."

That should've made me feel better. It didn't. Something about Aeon made it very clear that his chains didn't make him harmless. If anything, the fact that something had to bind him meant he was far more dangerous than I wanted to think about.

After a few moments of silence, I decided to push my luck.

"So… can you answer some of my questions? Please?"

Aeon tapped his foot against the stone, his chains crackling like static with each movement. He tilted his head, considering.

"I can." His voice was rich with amusement. "But should I?"

I frowned. How the hell was I supposed to convince someone like him? He was an all-powerful, chained-up cosmic entity, a being older than history itself, destined to rule the next world.

"…Why not?" I tried.

Aeon chuckled. "Why not?" He repeated, as if savoring the words. "Good question, child."

A pause.

Then, out of nowhere, he asked, "Ever wondered why Zeus is the strongest among the gods?"

I blinked. "Uh… no? Because he's the king and has the strongest weapon?"

Aeon let out a booming laugh.

It wasn't human. It wasn't even godly.

It was like the sound of an avalanche, of stars collapsing in distant galaxies.

It shook the very ambience around us.

When he finally calmed, he sighed. "No, definitely not."

He leaned forward slightly, as if sharing a secret. "Zeus is the most powerful because he was the one who killed Kronos—the Titan of Time. And Kronos, before him, killed Ouranos—a Primordial."

I frowned. "…So what, killing divine beings makes you stronger?"

Aeon grinned. I couldn't see it, but I felt it.

"Exactly, well not exactly, but that's the gist of it."

His chains rattled as he spoke.

"Whenever a being with divine essence kills another of its kind, they inherit a fraction of the fallen one's power. But there are conditions. First, you must be physically close to the one you kill. Second, they must be stronger than you in both divine essence and power. If both conditions are met, then for about ten seconds or so, a portion of their strength will seep into you."

My mind raced.

"So… that is how I got Hyperion and Perses' powers?"

Aeon nodded, his tone approving. "Yes. You were close enough, and you killed them with a weapon—your blade. That brief moment of absorption made you stronger."

That… actually made a lot of sense. But something still didn't add up.

"Wait," I said, piecing things together. "That means the original gods—Zeus, Poseidon, Hades—are the strongest because they personally struck down the Titans?"

Aeon nodded. "Exactly. And before you ask—no, you didn't absorb Porphyrion's power because giants are not considered divine beings."

I frowned. "Wait, what? Giants were the children of two Primordials, but they don't count as divine? And I do?"

Aeon let out a long, exhausted sigh. "Don't question it."

"That makes no sense."

"I know." He shook his head, sounding personally offended. "I swear, my world won't have this messed-up system."

I blinked. "Your world?"

Aeon waved a hand dismissively. "Later, later. Let's stay on topic. Yes, you are a divine being. In fact, you are one of only seven demigods in history who have ever been considered divine."

That threw me. "Seven?"

Aeon nodded, as if reading my thoughts. "Yes, Jason and Hazel are among them. This generation was an anomaly. Thalia. Nico, too. From ancient times, only Heracles and Perseus were divine."

I exhaled, my thoughts spinning.

That explained so much. Why some demigods were naturally stronger. Why certain people seemed to be favored—cursed, really—by fate itself.

It wasn't just talent. Or luck.

It was something deeper.

I looked at Aeon.

"…What else can you tell?" I asked carefully.

Aeon chuckled, his voice stretching into the abyss, carrying something vast.

"Oh, child… far more than you'd like to hear."

His words reverberated through the void, making my skin crawl. Then, with an amused hum, he added, "But where's the fun in that? I've already told you how you got your power. Now you know how to get stronger—so use that well."

A cold sensation settled in my gut.

"Now get lost." Aeon waved a hand dismissively. "And keep your life interesting—I do love good entertainment."

I quickly made my way toward the Tartarean wall. This place was terrible. And I never wanted to come near the void again. Clutching the jagged ridges of the wall, I began to climb.

"We shall meet again," he called, and I froze.

"What?" I turned my head back toward the darkness where I was sure he resided. "What do you mean?"

"In a different place, we shall meet again," he repeated. "Maybe in this world or the next, as friends—or perhaps as enemies—but we shall."

"Now get lost."

I would if you'd stop interrupting me every damn time! Ugh… This place. I just want to leave already.

"Yes, yes… I'm going."

"No need to be so sassy."

I didn't reply, choosing instead to focus on climbing.

The climb back up was harder. For the many hours I climbed without any light, it felt like I was trapped in a nightmare—except there was nothing to see, no one around, and a single misstep could send me spiraling into nothingness, lost in the cosmos.

"Join us… in the world beyond. Why resist?"

The voices had only paused when I was speaking to Aeon. But now, they were back. And for some reason, they sounded more persuasive.

"A single leap… believe in us… in the world beyond."

There was something unsettling in their tone—almost childlike, naïve, yet coaxing. A part of me wanted to let go, to listen. But I had bigger goals. I didn't just need to climb—I needed to rise. To go way up.

I had someone. I wanted to see Annabeth again.

I would never let go again.

I clutched the crevices in the wall tightly, leaning against it to rest. I still didn't feel hunger or thirst—just empty. It was a strange sensation, something I couldn't quite describe. There was no smell here, no light, no sound. And yet, it didn't feel primal.

What do you call a place with no scent, no sight, no sound?

It was unnatural.

Not that I missed Aeon. The absence of anything was better than the presence of something so… wrong. His existence was unnatural. More otherworldly than Nyx. Not overwhelmingly powerful, but his very presence felt fundamentally wrong.

Slowly, after what felt like hours of climbing, I felt my power returning. I let it flare, lighting up my surroundings. The sight of the Styx water, dripping slowly, was hauntingly beautiful.

"Join us… JOIN US."

I had almost grown used to the voices by now, but this time… something was different.

Something grabbed my leg.

I looked down.

A humanoid figure of pure darkness clung to the wall beneath me. Two horns protruded from his head, a long black tail curled behind him, and his mouth stretched to reveal sharp, gleaming canines. His large, black wings were folded against his back, one hand gripping the wall while the other held tightly to my leg.

He looked up, his pure white eyes meeting mine.

"Join us, Perseus Jackson," he said, his voice almost sweet, laced with otherworldly persuasion. "Come to the world beyond chaos—beyond this world of misery."

He looked like a Fury. But bigger. Scarier.

Despite his inviting tone, there was a cold finality to it.

"Let go of my leg," I said, glaring down at him.

"I can't," he murmured. "I have been ordered to bring you."

His voice shifted—no longer coaxing, but absolute. Like leaving his task unfinished was a crime against existence itself.

I studied him carefully. He looked like something pulled from a Christian demonology painting, the kind twisted into terrifying forms in TV shows.

I clenched my jaw and glared back.

"Let go of my leg. Right now," I snarled, gritting my teeth. "I will climb back up, no matter what you say."

"Then I shall bring you by force."

He yanked at my leg.

My grip faltered. Instantly, I drew Riptide, slashing at the wall and embedding the blade deep into the rock to stop my fall. With my free hand, I willed the Styx water to attack.

The creature let out a guttural screech, a sound so inhuman it sent a chill down my spine. He kept pulling, his claws digging in, but the Styx water responded to my will. A jet of inky blackness shot toward him, slamming him against the wall. His grip weakened just enough for me to push myself back, clutching the wall tightly as I scanned for him.

Swish!

I turned my head, sensing his presence moving, circling. I willed the Styx water to spread—a cocoon of darkness, a veil of nothingness that would tell me the moment something entered its space.

There. Up-left.

The tiniest ripples answered me. My security, my eyes in the abyss. A pulse of warmth spread through my vision—an itching sensation, familiar yet unsettling.

He was moving. Fast.

I let out a burst of magic, my eyes igniting, releasing pure golden beams—just like the ones I had used against Nyx.

"KHHAAAA!" The monster shrieked.

Then I felt it.

A sharp crack of air—followed by the unmistakable snap of a whip.

It coiled around my leg.

My grip on Riptide tightened, but it was no use. The whip pulled, dragging my sword against the wall, slicing through the thick, blazing-red Tartarean rock. Sparks flew, and then—

CRACK.

The hilt snapped away from the blade.

For a split second, I was weightless.

My hands scrambled, burning as they scraped against the jagged wall. Skin peeled, raw and stinging, but I barely managed to latch onto a ledge, my body dangling over the abyss.

The whip was still wrapped around my leg, digging in. Tears blurred my vision as pain surged through me.

Then—I felt it loosen.

No.

Panic flared in my chest. I turned, gasping, and fired another blast from my eyes, burning the whip away.

"Join us, Perseus Jackson!"

The voice came again, closer this time.

I looked up.

The figure hovered before me, wings spread wide, his form barely distinguishable against the void.

"Who are you?" I demanded, stalling, my mind racing for a way out.

"I am a Veyxar," he said simply. "We dwell beneath the Tartarean manifestation, on the ceiling that kisses the void."

"You live there?" I gasped, struggling to wrap my head around it. "But isn't that dangerous?"

"Only for divinity and creatures of the mortal realms." He chuckled, then extended his arm toward me. "Join us in the world beyond. You will live forever, free from the clutches of mortality. When this world ends, we are promised a reality of our own."

This guy is insane, I realized. I glanced at his outstretched hand—large, pure black, visible only as a silhouette despite the glow emanating from my body.

"Who promised you that?" I asked. "And how many of you are there?"

"Who promised us?" He hesitated, as if confused by the question. Then, his voice took on a feverish intensity. "Who promised us? The world! The moment we became what we are, the world spoke to us. We are its servants, and we shall be rewarded!"

This guy is completely off his rocker.

"And how many of you exist?"

"Trillions." His tone was eerily casual, but the reverence in his voice for this so-called world beyond sent a chill down my spine. "We hang above the void, against the Tartarean roof. The world beyond will cleanse existence, and we alone shall remain. Join us! Even we can sense your strength. We offer you this privilege."

I locked eyes with him. He was either completely brainwashed or just another divine lunatic—because the gods already had more than enough of those. Even Gaea, the so-called primordial mother, had only one generation behind her, and she'd passed the crazy down just fine.

"I don't want this privilege," I said firmly. "Leave me."

His gaze darkened. "Look at yourself. You will be free from pain. From hunger. From thirst. Even gods require sustenance. But we are free."

"Get lost," I spat, not in the mood for his cosmic pyramid scheme.

His white eyes gleamed, his fingers twisting into claws. With a snarl, he lunged.

My instincts kicked in, and I fired a searing burst of golden laser straight at his face.

A piercing shriek ripped through the abyss as his flesh burned away, his insides melting, thick black liquid oozing from the gaping wounds. The beam had carved straight through his cheeks, leaving a hole clear through his head.

Yet, momentum carried him forward, claws still reaching for me.

Cursing, I yanked a drakon bone dagger from my belt. My fingers screamed in protest as I grabbed a crevice and swung myself aside, sidestepping just as he lunged past. With a burst of speed I didn't know I could muster while hanging off a sheer cliffside, I rammed the dagger through his open mouth, pinning him to the wall.

He shrieked, his limbs flailing—hands, legs, wings, tail, all thrashing wildly.

I didn't hesitate. Pulling another dagger free, I ripped his wings off. Then his arm. Tar-like blood spurted from the wounds, thick and black.

But even after all that, he still wouldn't die.

Breathing hard, I put as much distance between us as I could.

Trillions, he'd said.

I could only hope that was an exaggeration. Or at the very least, that I wasn't at the top of their priority list.

My sword… Riptide… Gone. Broken too easily.

I forced the tears back, refusing to let my emotions consume me as I clung to the Tartarean wall, one misstep away from ceasing to exist… or worse, becoming like that Veyxar.

With my raw, peeled hand burning in agony, my clothes drenched in otherworldly black blood, and the loss of my sword weighing on me, I began climbing again—each movement slow, painful, but relentless.

— Line Break / A Few Days Later —

No whispers from the world beyond. No otherworldly creatures attacking me. No strange phenomena.

Nothing had happened in what I assumed were the past few days. Climbing was grueling. It hurt. But I persisted.

This damned ring that Styx wanted had forced me to understand the very fabric of this realm more than I ever wanted to. And yet, it had left me with more questions than answers. I wished I had never learned about those creatures. Or Aeon.

Then—finally—my hand found the edge of the steep wall.

I hauled myself up with whatever strength remained, using the leverage to pull my body over.

And then, I collapsed onto the beautifully terrible Tartarean land, limp, utterly spent.

For a while, I just lay there. I didn't feel like moving, didn't feel like forcing my body to stand after everything I had endured. But eventually, after what must have been a few hours, I pushed myself off the ground and started walking—limping—toward where I had last left Ivory and Damasen.

It had been a few days—three or four at most—since I left. They must be worried.

I followed the Styx's bank, walking against the river's inky flow, until I finally caught sight of them. Damasen was perched on a rock, staring silently into the dark currents, while Ivory played with those weird poison-lava slimes she had somehow befriended.

"Damasen! Ivory!" I called, raising a weary hand.

Damasen's head snapped up, eyes sharpening in alertness, while Ivory immediately abandoned her game and bolted toward me. I barely had time to brace myself before the little skeleton kitten leapt into my arms, nuzzling her cheek against me.

"Aww, you missed me, cutie?" I asked, stroking her softly.

"Mew, mew… meow!" She meowed incessantly before finally settling down, adjusting her position to make herself comfortable in my arms.

By then, Damasen had also reached me.

"What took you so long?" he asked, scanning me from head to toe. His expression darkened. "And what is that black gunk all over you?"

"Monster blood," I said dismissively, not wanting to bring up the Veyxar. "And yeah… sorry. Took longer than expected—got attacked, injured my hands." I held up my palms, raw and peeling. "Leg's messed up too."

Damasen's eyes widened. "A monster? Down there?" He hesitated, his expression growing more serious. "How many? And… did it attack you while climbing?"

I nodded, carefully stroking Ivory with the back of my hand.

"Well… it's good that you survived," he said, exhaling as he looked back at the river. "After the first week, your faint scent and aura were the only things telling me you were still alive."

"First week?" I frowned. That didn't make sense. "Wait… how long was I gone?"

Damasen glanced at me, hesitating. "Four… maybe five weeks."

I froze.

"FOUR TO FIVE WEEKS?!" I shouted. Ivory yelped in my arms, startled, and I quickly calmed her, murmuring an apology as I stroked her head. Then, I turned to Damasen, still reeling from shock. "What do you mean four to five weeks?! I was only gone for five days!"

Damasen's eyes widened in equal confusion. "Five days?" Then his expression darkened as realization settled. "So… time worked differently down at the edge."

A cold dread crept up my spine.

"Damn it," I cursed under my breath, my mind spinning. I turned toward the river, glaring at the endless black currents rushing toward the void beside us.

"Styx, show yourself!" I called, my voice sharp with anger.

The inky water twisted into a whirlpool, then rose, forming the figure of a woman. Her dark eyes settled on me, and a small, pleased smile curled her lips.

"So," she said, a hint of excitement in her voice, "you completed my quest?"

I yanked the ring from my pocket and tossed it at her. "Here, have your dumb ring."

She caught it effortlessly, her fingers tracing its details in admiration.

"Now be a dear and open the freaking river."

Her gaze snapped to me, displeased with my sharp tone. But I didn't care. I was done with her. I had endured way too much because of her attachment issues with her son and his stupid ring.

Her eyes burned with warning. "Do not be insolent, Perseus Jackson. You are still just a demigod, while I am a goddess."

I clenched my fists. That was it. I should have fought her instead of going on this absurd quest.

"Just let us cross the river, Styx," Damasen interjected, placing a firm hand on my shoulder.

I stayed silent, glaring daggers at the goddess, my fury barely contained. I had half a mind to throw her into the void myself.

"Mew." Ivory nudged her head against my cheek, her softness a stark contrast to the storm of emotions raging inside me.

Styx flicked her hand dismissively, almost arrogantly. "Only this once," she huffed. "But do not take that tone with me again, demigod." With a snap of her fingers, the ground trembled.

Rocks erupted from the depths of the river, assembling into a jagged stone bridge that spanned the Styx, connecting this side to the other.

Damasen patted my back. "Let's go, Percy," he said, pulling me along before I could burn a hole into Styx with my glare, both literally and metaphorically.

After we had walked a little further from the river, I slowly began to cool down. I was still angry, but mostly I was berating myself for my own idiocy. I sighed and muttered, "Thanks for pulling me before I did something dumb."

"Don't mention it, Perseus," Damasen chuckled, deliberately using my full name instead of Percy. "It's the least I can do."

I rolled my eyes and gave him a genuine smile.

Glancing down at the compass Nyx had given us, I reminded myself that we had to press straight ahead until we found our way out. Hopefully, there wouldn't be any more unexpected complications. After descending into Tartarus to the edge of existence and wasting months of my life, I'd rather throw hands than bend over for another god or goddess.

For a long while, we trudged across the desolate, frozen savannah-like terrain. Eventually, the landscape shifted, giving way to red and orange badlands with a much denser, sulfurous air. The ground was littered with small rocks, and every few hundred meters stood monstrous trees with moving branches, wailing mouths, and poisonous, spined leaves.

Yet nothing was insurmountable—even without my sword. With only the two drakon bone daggers I had left, I was managing fine. My magical power—Cerulean, Crimson, and Gold—was enough to hold my own against many gods, and a few petty monsters were nothing.

Suddenly, Damasen stopped and raised his hand, signaling for me to halt. "It's shifting."

"Shifting?" I asked, confused. He stayed silent for a few tense seconds.

Finally, his voice turned grave. "The land—it's shifting. Tartarus is rearranging his domain. Check the compass."

I pulled it out, and my heart plummeted as I saw the pointer had swung from northeast to west. "What…" I murmured, at a loss for words.

"I never thought I'd still be able to sense these changes…" Damasen said, as if lost in old memories. He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. We will escape my father's realm."

"Did the realm shift?" I wondered. That explained so much—why I always ended up back at the shrine, the mushroom forest, even when I took odd turns. Why did I always reach the Swamp? At least the compass pointer was reliable; I would eventually get out.

I started walking again, not in the right state of mind to speak. Honestly, I'd long passed the stage where I should have realized that anything that could go wrong would go wrong, yet I kept forgetting it.

Soon, the land shifted, and we reached a vast forest filled with gigantic trees whose branches spread out in every direction. They were enormous—the trunks were as big as Damasen. And Damasen was huge.

Ivory leaped and climbed one of the trees, bouncing from branch to branch.

"Ivory, come down," I called with a smile, though I wasn't truly impressed by her antics; her cuteness made up for it.

"Mew," she replied, as if to say, 'Watch me fly, mortals!'

Damasen chuckled. "Let her relax; you should also rest for a while." He looked around. "I can sense some monsters nearby that I can probably hunt. You stay here; I'll get them, and then we can have some food."

"Are you sure? I'm not—" I began, but he waved me off.

"Just rest. Stop straining yourself," he said with a pointed look. "What use is it if you die before reaching the world above?"

I couldn't argue with him, so I leaned against a large tree and waited.

After about fifteen minutes, Damasen returned with a wolf-like creature slung over his shoulder and a massive grin on his face.

"Wow, you got that?" I mumbled in awe. "That's amazing!"

Damn—it was as if he could sense monsters and know when one was near just by their scent or aura. Unlimited food supply—hell yeah!

For the next few hours, we cut down some trees, built a decent platform to sit on, started a small fire, cooked our meal, ate, and rested.

Eventually, I helped Damasen to my feet, and we resumed our journey, following the compass once more.

The forest stretched on for a few days, twisting and changing, and was filled with minor monsters. Honestly, most monsters avoided us. Damasen explained that I was leaking a significant amount of magical aura—after all, I was a demigod, and demigods are inherently bad at concealing their magic. Because my aura was so dense, most monsters realized that attacking me would be suicide.

Then the forest gave way to a crimson land filled with channels, lava-filled holes, and a floor covered with thorns. The further we walked, the worse it got.

And then the land shifted.

We wandered in that land for about two more weeks, and then it shifted again.

It was infuriating. But eventually, a subtle change in the terrain gave me a sense of déjà vu. Then I saw a massive silhouette in the distance. As we drew closer, the land became harsher, with lava spewing from cracks, the air growing hotter, and sulfurous clouds shrouding the sky.

Massive stone pillars, hundreds of meters wide, stretched skyward like jagged ropes anchoring Tartarus itself. I had seen Kampe in a terrain similar to this one. But now the area was silent—there was no sign of the colossal monster.

"Damasen, you know, I've seen Kampe in a place like this," I remarked, not giving it much thought.

"Oh, really?" Damasen mused, curiosity in his tone. "Kampe is usually known for roaming open lands. Maybe she has reformed in this terrain?"

His suggestion had merit. After all, the pillar-like structures would make mobility quite difficult for her here.

I looked at the compass and froze.

"Damasen," I called, a little hopeful, "did the terrain shift?"

"No... why?" he asked. I forced myself to remain calm, trying not to get too excited.

"The compass shifted..." I said, my breathing quickening.

I started walking toward the direction indicated by the compass, with Damasen and Ivory following me. We wandered in circles for about twenty minutes until I finally realized what was happening.

It was the pillar.

I asked Damasen to punch the pillar where the compass pointed, and a small section of its wall collapsed easily, revealing an opening that spiraled upward like a spider's nest.

"Is this..." I whispered, shell-shocked and overwhelmed with emotion.

"We're going to escape," Damasen declared, glancing around the Tartaric land one last time. "Back to Earth, where the gentle sun can soothe my skin and the stars can whisper sweet stories at night."