Hero of Rome

As Max and Camilla sail off into the mists of Styx, Cerberus takes its frustration out on a new chew toy standing nearby: dear Horatius.

“Go, now!” Charon growled, his black teeth revealed by his pulled back lips. “Cerberus will punish me if you linger.”

“Thank you for the trip,” I said, grabbing Camilla’s hand and helping her off of the boat, being extra careful to avoid the River Styx and the souls that floated lifelessly through it.

Charon muttered darkly to himself before pushing off from the shore. In just a few moments, the gloomy figure disappeared in the darkness we came from.

“Ready?” Camilla said as we stepped onto the ashy gray river bank.

“No,” I admitted, clutching my bone sword in my hand. I took a quick look at its abilities before we advanced.

Item: Random Femur (Common)

Description: The femur of a nobody, weathered by time but still solid enough to be used as a crude weapon. It is stripped of any grandeur, serving only as a blunt tool for survival. The bone is pitted and stained, with cracks running along its surface, yet it retains a surprising durability for such an old relic. The femur feels unnervingly cold to the touch, as if some lingering essence of its original owner remains.

Damage: 18

Durability: 96/100

Weight: 2.5 kg

Special Effect: Bone Rattle: Has a 5% chance to cause a disorienting "rattling" sound when striking enemies, briefly stunning them for 1 second.

Worth: 100 Denarii

“Any power to it?” Camilla said, smirking as she went ahead.

“If by power you mean making a fun rattling sound, then yes.”

Camilla giggled at my joke. It felt like water to my parched soul to hear that. Especially because of where we were now.

The Fields of Asphodel were even bleaker than the spawn point to the Underworld. Unlike the Labyrinth, there wasn’t a dome of rock above us, but rather, a pale, gray sky stretching over endless fields that were equally as devoid of color. While it was nice to not be surrounded by darkness, the overcast atmosphere sucked the life out of me. To say the landscape before us resembled fields was a mischaracterization. It looked like the battlefield remains of a no man’s land from the Great Wars. There grew sparse, black vegetation, as if withered, with dead trees sharing the same depressing features. And scattered throughout the seemingly endless fields shuffled millions of souls.

Every single one of the souls wore colorless robes like Camilla and I had. Color had been long sapped from these aimless peoples, all of them wandering without purpose or passion. They reminded me of zombies, all shuffling around and mumbling to themselves.

“Is this anything like your, what did you call it, Dante?” Camilla said as we walked carefully into the horde of the dead.

“Just about,” I said, totally creeped out by how none of them cared to look at us for very long, despite how different we must have looked to them. All of them had been drained of purpose, doomed to wander forever. “Dante was a Catholic, and so he believed this first ring to be where those who lived a decent life but did not become a believer were destined to remain. But, man, this does not look like a place to rest for eternity. This looks miserable.”

Camilla drew closer to me as we passed the first of the endless sea of souls. The eerie seconds stretched on forever as we weaved through them. Camilla unknowingly clung to my arm as we walked. Although my loyalty was to Cleopatra, I didn’t mind this companionship. I would have lost my mind from how freaky and dreary these fields were if I was alone.

As the minutes became hours, my guard relaxed. There didn’t seem to be any threat amongst these lifeless souls. The only danger was the gnarled roots from the black and twisted trees that we might trip over and the sudden emergence of thick, ropey webs that laced them.

“I didn’t notice those before,” I said, pointing to the spider webs.

Camilla pushed past a soul who was mumbling strangely to himself, almost like he was questioning everything he said. She stood on the tip of her toes to feel the cobweb. Unlike regular webs, this one did not break when she pushed her fingers into it. The web only reverberated like a cable. When she tried to pull away, her hand stayed.

“This is no ordinary web,” she grunted, kicking one foot up to the dark tree and pushing away. With tremendous effort, she freed herself. When she investigated her hand, I could see a dark mark where the web had been.

Looking ahead, past the swarm of the dead, the cobwebs grew in frequency and size, some even stringing between trees that stood dozens of feet apart.

“Let’s bank left,” I said, preparing to move.

“Do you expect to find an easier path?” the man said.

“I think—”

Wait a minute. My head snapped to look at the soul Camilla pushed aside. The man was of average height. He had a medium sized belly, with a bushy beard and wild hair that seemed to be one cohesive mess. Though his eyes were dead, there still remained a spark of curiosity in his black eyes.

“Do you know what’s ahead?” Camilla said, frowning as she rejoined my side.

“I will tell you if you answer me this: why do you seek to escape death, to deny the Fates?”

I shook my head. “Our deaths were premature. We need to get back to the land of the living to save our friends, to save my wife.”

The man cocked his head. “Are those not the words of all who die? And why cannot your wife save herself? Is she unable to?”

The man’s intensity in his questioning stopped me in my tracks. “She will die, either by the one who had me killed or by the pregnancy when it’s over. If I don’t return, she will join me here.”

“Birth brings death to many, that is a part of life. Why should you deny the natural order of things? Won’t we all die anyway? What is the point of trying to stop the inevitable? Is it for glory which is here for only a short while? Why must you deny death?”

Now it hit me.

“You’re Socrates, aren’t you?” I said, familiar with his Socratic Method and the intensity of his questions.

The old man smiled. “That depends if you plan to give me hemlock,” he said, chuckling to himself before the joy quickly evaporated. “You still did not answer my questions. Why do you resist death? Is it truly for love of this Cleopatra, or is it to deny the impermanence of life, of being a man of consequence?”

I stood there, speechless, before the man of ancient wisdom. I hadn’t really considered the depth behind my motivation till now. Instinctively, I activated my Cleopatra Figurine. Suddenly, a spectral figure of her emerged next to me. Socrates’s eyes widened with approval at her stunning appearance. She was dressed in a simple stola, hair braided with gems, and eyeliner that drew me into sorrow, sorrow because I could not be with her. I reached out to touch her but my hand only went through her, like vapor. I didn’t realize I was crying until I tasted the salt on my lips from my tears. Camilla looked down next to me, unsure of what to do. As I looked into Cleopatra’s eyes, I knew in my heart that there was a strong desire to see her live out of love. Afterall, she had built a throne in my heart.

Yet, I couldn’t deny the validity of his other assumption, that I was doing this for vanity. That I was too afraid to accept my fate, to let the die be cast as it were. I knew deep down in my heart that from the very beginning, I wanted to be a man of consequence. It was such a deep and defining part of my journey. My life had to mean something, I had to be someone. Otherwise, what was the point?

“If I fail my wife who deserved to live, and if I sink into the cold recesses of an unjust death, then my life would mean nothing,” I finally admitted.

Socrates nodded in approval. “You cannot accept death, then, it seems. You are in denial of how it often is for humanity. Life is not always fair or just. You can ask anyone here of that truth. But, it is meaningful. It can be.”

I shook my head. “There is no meaning in me and my wife dying.”

Socrates sighed, turning to look at the thickening webs in the near distance. “I’m afraid you will have much to overcome, then. Take care, strange one.”

“Let’s go,” Camilla said, grabbing my hand again as if it were natural and leading me away from one of the wisest and most confusing men of antiquity. The specter of Cleopatra vanished when we left.

“Don’t let anything he said get to you,” Camilla insisted as we continued navigating the sea of sad souls. I tried not to make eye contact with their vacant eyes. “What you’re doing is noble, not selfish. You’re a protector, Max, you always have been.”

She squeezed my hand for comfort. I tried to smile at her, but I was too torn to know what to think.

We walked in silence for another hour it seemed. There was no clock down here or sun to tell us what time it was. The only passage for time that was consistent was the growing webs in the fields. It was now covering good portions of the barren fields. More and more aimless souls were getting ensnared in its fibrous, sticky embrace.

“Be careful,” I said, jumping over a particularly thick web tendril as we pushed past more of the dead. It proved almost impossible to see far ahead with how thick the crowd was. “I have a feeling we’re getting closer to whatever is weaving these.”

And then, without warning, we pushed through the last of the souls and came upon the most morbid sight. Just ahead where the field sloped downwards, a string of webs taller than the trees stretched across the horizon like some sort of wall. Beneath them appeared to be what used to be a forest, as evident by the dark husks hidden inside. But what made it worse was the countless number of souls stuck inside the webs. None of them moved, even though they must still be alive. Perhaps they had given up long ago.

“How much do you want to wager the next ring is just beyond this?” Camilla said, her face unusually pale.

“I have a feeling you’re right,” I said. Now I was squeezing her hand for comfort. “Come on, let’s find a way through.”

Camilla took a labored breath. “As you say, screw it.”

Once we were close enough, I had to keep my eyes far away from those that hung in the dense webs. They did not look like the others wandering in the fields. These looked like they had every drop of humanity drained from them. They looked more like dry husks than anything. Not even their eyeballs remained. As soon as we approached, all of their eyeless faces flickered to look at us, straining against the webs. None of them said anything, which I think made it worse.

“Be careful,” I said as I ducked beneath some webbing as we began weaving through the web forest.

Camilla’s breath sounded rapid beside me. Her hand began to sweat in mine.

I was about to ask her something random to get my mind off of this creepy place when one of the figures hanging in the webs gasped, freaking me out.

“Not even Remus shall make it!” the man said, just as freaky looking as the others. “Death cannot be avoided. It is folly!”

“Let’s walk a little faster,” I said, not wanting to look at the withered corpse of whom I thought was Remus. What a terrible end to such a legendary figure.

Camilla cleared her throat, attempting to breathe before speaking. “Perhaps we should turn back. We can see if there’s—”

An ear splitting shrill of a laugh rocked the web forest. Both of us turned to look at the direction it came in. At first all I saw was very large black figures scurrying through the webs. Then, the most deranged and crazy-eyed woman I had ever seen popped up far above where those dark shadows had moved.

“Death cannot be avoided,” the black haired lady said, her smile crooked beneath the messy tendrils of her greasy hair. That’s when I realized that the shadows beneath her were not people. They were legs, long, furry, and black. Eight of them.

Camilla screamed it first.

“Sp-sp-spider!”