Kairos 87: Doom of Thanatos

It had been countless centuries since Nessus had last set foot in his late uncle’s palace.

Or did he ever visit it in the first place? Maybe he was mistaking it for another castle, one of the many fortresses he had conquered or explored in his glory days? The dark obsidian corridors felt awfully familiar, and yet the fallen god didn’t remember the way in. The memories of his past lives blurred together into a chaotic mess; sometimes he noticed the shadows of Indian tigers in a corner, or the tail of a Nile crocodile. Even the animals haunt me now, he thought. As if the people weren’t enough.

Mortals called it the fog of age, but in Nessus’ case, the zoo of memories may have been a more appropriate term.

The menagerie that Kairos called his party walked through finely furnished halls, each more splendid than the last; for Hades had been a god of wealth as well as the dead. The marble floor had withstood the test of time, as did exquisite gold frescoes and mosaics representing the Titanomachia. Tasteful ensembles of gems and diamonds covered the ceiling, forming visions of comets and constellations. Each door was made of a precious metal, each wall raised with rare and unique stones.

But it was the statues that left Nessus breathless. The group couldn’t take a step without finding a marble copy of Persephone and Cerberus, each more glorious and lovely than the last. Occasionally they crossed paths with representations of Orpheus and Eurydice, whose love had charmed even the Lord of the Underworld, or of Menippe and Metioche, twin sisters who willingly offered their lives to the god to lift a plague. They even found a shrine of white marble trees and silver mint plants in an isolated corner, a final tribute to the woman who once competed with Persephone for her husband’s heart.

All the wealth held in this palace could bankroll a hundred kingdoms, and now gathered dust, a silent memento of the fallen Lord of the Dead. Even Agron, never one to ignore easy money, seemed reluctant to grab any of it. Each piece of precious metal, each stone, served to honor someone else’s memory.

Nessus remembered Hades as a dour and grim figure, as cold as a corpse. Father once joked that his brother was born dead, he remembered, but though he only cared for a few, his love had been genuine.

A part of Nessus hoped to live long enough to see Lycaon perish and his uncle’s soul freed. Hopefully, Kairos would follow in Zeus’ footsteps and bring his ancestor down. The satyr imagined himself at his captain’s back, raising a bow at a werewolf the size of Cerberus. Such a glorious picture, almost worth living for.

Who am I kidding? Nessus thought as he banished these fantasies from his mind. As if Kairos needs my help.

The satyr glanced at the future King of Travia. He and Rook occupied the middle of the party’s formation, leaving Cassandra and Agron at the front, while Sertorius, Andromache, and Thales closed the march behind Nessus. The way Kairos walked reminded the fallen god of Perseus, a wise ruler with an unshakable will.

He had delved into this deathtrap to protect his people, while Nessus had come to perish.

The world will be in better hands than mine, the satyr thought until he sensed a heavy gaze on his back. Some of them at least.

The so-called Judge Sertorius had been observing him the moment they met, his enchanted eyes peering into Nessus’ soul and laying his sins bare. The satyr had felt a similar effect once in the old world, the first time he walked through the doors of Olympus. The goddess Themis, deity of justice, law, and fairness, had put Dionysus on trial and deemed him worthy of entering Olympus. The fact his ascension cost countless mortals their life had never factored into her decision.

Justice was never blind.

Themis’ enchanted gaze and Sertorius’ felt so similar that Nessus was convinced that the latter inherited the former’s [Legend]. The divine spark of absolute law had wandered across the centuries before finding a new vessel, one even more ruthless than the first.

And where Themis had deemed Nessus’ behavior acceptable in the first case, Sertorius found him wanting in the appeal. The satyr already knew the verdict the judge had rehearsed in his head.

You don't belong in the world I’m creating.

Sertorius desired to replace the Olympians with his own kin, and for that, all traces of the old order had to perish. And while Nessus had come to agree with the last part, he couldn’t help but find the judge’s ambitions a bit too familiar.

Hopefully it wasn’t too late for him to see reason and change his mind. Unlike Themis, Sertorius struck him as the kind of person who held everyone to the same high standards; himself included. If he ever ascended, [Gods] would be no safer from his judgement than the mortals they once oppressed.

“Beware,” Agron said as he used his burning Songaxe as an improvised torch to light the way. The fair ladies of the party had done something similar, with Cassandra summoning ghostly flames and Andromache summoning light with her staff. “I see a pit.”

Indeed, the minotaur stopped in the middle of a corridor right before an empty space. Nessus peeked over his ally’s shoulder and into the void, noticing one of his summoned jelly’s impaled on poisoned spikes at the bottom. The weapons hadn’t damaged the creature, but it couldn’t crawl back to the surface on its own.

Oh well, it should expire in one minute or so anyway. At least it sacrificed itself to spare them a nasty fall.

“You didn’t feel any feedback through the amulet?” Cassandra asked Nessus.

“I’m afraid not, oh lovely lady.” The satyr still couldn’t believe that Tiberius managed to woo her. “Our captain cornered the [Beastmaster] subclass before I could.”

His remark amused Kairos. “Would slimes even count as a [Animal Companion]?” he asked.

“Pfft, of course not! They can’t even fly!” Rook complained as he looked into the pit. “I can demonstrate!”

Kairos shook his head. “First rule of a dungeon, Rook. We don’t split up, ever.”

“We sent the undead ahead,” Nessus pointed out as he glanced at Andromache. “What about them, dear nymph? Did all of them find a hole their size?”

“Most are still in movement,” Andromache replied as she closed her eyes to focus. Though she couldn’t see through the eyes of her reanimated thralls, she could sense their presence and location. “One has moved up; through a staircase I presume.”

Thales immediately offered her a scroll and a feather pen, the sorceress scribbling lines on it as she recorded her thalls’ movements.

The automaton’s plan to explore the palace had been a stroke of genius. When the road forward split into multiple directions, he had the party send their summoned minions in all of them and then asked the creatures to always turn right. Since Andromache could sense her undead’s presence, Thales had swiftly recorded the movements of each undead through the maze to form a rough map of it.

It would have been even better if Nessus shared the same affinity with his summoned slimes, but he had quickly noticed that while his amulet allowed him to command these creatures, it didn’t create a psychic link with them. The party had thus settled on sending them ahead to scout for traps while they followed closely behind.

After giving Thales time to review and adjust Andromache’s additions, the group gathered around him to look at his map. As Nessus expected, his uncle’s palace dwarfed many towns in sheer size. Each wing could probably hold all of Kairos’ keep in Histria.

Worse, the place was a true maze. If Thales’ map could be trusted—and Nessus was tempted to do so, as the automaton had [Architect] as a subclass—then the right-wing alone contained more than a dozen rooms linked together by twisted corridors… and the undead scouts within hadn’t toured it all yet.

“We are here,” Thales said as he pointed at a corridor on the map’s southwest. “Right after the art gallery. According to Lady Andromache’s information, the southern wing is the smallest of them and circles on itself. Has any undead in the area descended?”

“No,” Andromache replied. “I ordered them to take pathways down in order of priority.”

“So we can assume this wing of the palace will not lead us to the fourth level,” Thales said before pointing at various points on the northeast part of the map. “We lost two undead in these spots, so we must assume the presence of traps or defenders.”

“Defenders mean something to defend,” Agron pointed out.

“Or bait to lure us into a trap,” Sertorius replied with less enthusiasm. “We have avoided many traps so far, but faced no ambush.”

“I wish I could know the way,” Cassandra said with a sigh. “But I never stepped foot in this place, neither in life or death.”

“Thales, can your Skills fill the holes in the design?” Kairos asked the only [Crafter] on the team.

“I’m afraid not, sir,” the automaton admitted with a hint of shame. “This palace has none of the amenities that mortal homes revolve around. There is no cistern, no kitchen, no furnace.”

“The [Gods] and the dead don’t need these things.” Andromache shrugged. “Magic fulfilled all their needs.”

Thales nodded slowly. “I would need to map out at least half of the floor to make an estimation, and my Skills inform me that we have mapped less than twenty percent of it.”

Kairos scowled and glanced at Nessus. “What do you think?”

The satyr could read the real question between the lines: do you recognize this layout?

Nessus crossed his arms and paid the map a long, hard look. Truthfully, it did feel vaguely familiar, but he didn’t recognize the wings’ shapes. He tried to dig up the memory in question and came up short.

Maybe he shouldn’t remember the palace, but its previous owner. Did Hades have a particular art style? He knew that the fortress predated his abduction of Persephone, and that he created beautiful gardens in an attempt to win her heart. Did he also redecorate the interior to please her?

Athena said that Hades always lived in his brother’s shadow, Nessus remembered. His kingdom was great and mighty, but it was a pale reflection of Olympus.

How ironic that not even dust remained of Olympus, and yet Hades’ palace still stood. Even centuries after his kingdom crumbled, mortals still held the Lord of the Underworld’s tomb in quiet reverence. For a goddess of wisdom and strategy, Athena had failed to see many things.

What good is foresight to those who blind themselves? Nessus thought. The gods of Olympus had spurned the Lord of the Underworld, considering his kingdom undesirable, mocked his dourness and inflexible sense of justice. And yet while Zeus and his children had been forgotten by time, mortals were still willing to fight Lycaon to free Hades’ soul. Nessus doubted anyone would honor the name Dionysus by the next century.

The satyr held his breath as an idea crossed his mind. “Dear Andromache, you said one of your undead found a way to the floors above?” he asked. “Could you tell me where?”

The nymph snorted. “Why bother? It went the wrong way. Unless you want us to circle the world and attack Thanatos from the other side?”

“He will never see it coming,” Nessus pointed out. Andromache rolled her eyes and pointed at a northern point on the map. “As I thought.”

“Do you have an idea?” Kairos asked, his eyes lighting up in hope.

“My kingdom for a pen, please,” Nessus asked.

“You don’t have a kingdom,” Cassandra chuckled. “Come to think of it, do you even have a house? I don’t remember ever visiting yours.”

“He has taken permanent residence in one of our guest rooms,” Kairos said with a smirk. “I don’t mind.”

“Of course you don’t, life would be dull without me,” Nessus quipped, only for his captain’s smirk to falter. Damn it, he still hasn’t seen reason.

Andromache granted the satyr his wish, and he instantly moved to complete the map one room at a time. His hand did not hesitate, for he remembered these halls perfectly.

After all, he had spent half his godhood walking among them.

A shadow of Olympus indeed, Nessus thought as he completed the map. Hades, not one to be outdone, had modeled his domain’s layout on his younger brother Zeus’ kingdom. Each room, each promenade, each corridor had been copied to perfection. In fact, Andromache’s lost thralls had vanished in the area where Dionysus’ lair would have been. He wondered who or what had made its lair inside these rooms.

…

His deadly shadow.

Nessus did his best to keep a straight face, his mind working furiously on a plan. “This all fits,” Thales said with joy as he reviewed his alterations. “Amazing. Which Skill did you use?”

“None,” Nessus then lied through his teeth. “I already visited a dungeon with a similar layout.”

“Of course,” Sertorius said with a sarcastic tone. He knew; the bastard.

“It’s not my fault if the gods lacked imagination.” Nessus shrugged. “They all tried to mimic Zeus’ home, and Hades was no different.”

“You didn’t note stairways though,” Kairos pointed out with a suspicious frown.

Nessus considered his next words carefully.

Olympus did have an underground floor of a sort: the forge-quarters of his half-brother Hephaestus. Considering Hades had built his palace over the entrance to Tartarus, Nessus didn’t need to think twice to guess what he kept in his basement.

However, while both were located east of the group’s current position, the entrance to the fourth level and his shadow Thanatos’ lair were in different wings entirely; with none connected to the other. Nessus didn’t doubt for a second that the bitter [Demigod] had set defenses around the floor access, but he would never risk himself in a direct confrontation. Even if his plan failed, Thanatos would slip back in the shadows for a few centuries and wait for the next opportunity.

But he didn’t know that Nessus had figured out his location inside the palace. This might be the satyr’s only chance in eons to catch his shadow by surprise.

But Kairos would never let him near Thanatos.

Nessus could see it in the Travian King’s eyes. Kairos thought he should live, as if his mortal existence meant anything. Even though the archer kept telling his friend that his self-sacrifice would be for the best, that it would destroy a threat to the world and help atone for his mistakes, he would never let Nessus give his life for the cause.

Even if the satyr ran away, Kairos would pursue and stop him.

Nessus had had companions in his first life, friends and lovers who sacrificed their existence to save him during the Anthropomachia. Watching Kairos try to take up their duty felt nostalgic… and dreadful.

So many had died so Nessus could live, and for what? Better people had given their lives for someone who didn’t deserve it. He couldn’t let Kairos follow in their footsteps.

A part of Nessus advised him to lie about the way forward, to trick his party towards Thanatos’ location so he could finally force this long-delayed confrontation. That was what Dionysus would have done. Put his desires above those of others.

But though it had taken many deaths, Nessus had learned the virtue of responsibility.

“The entrance to Tartarus is here,” he said, as he pointed at the right path.

He couldn’t put the whole world at risk, even for the sake of ending his immortal penance. Too many lives depended on it.

“Are you certain?” Kairos asked. “It is quite far from our position.”

“I would bet my life on it,” Nessus replied.

“This sounds like an elaborate guess,” Cassandra admitted with skepticism. “But it’s not like I have a better suggestion.”

“Out of curiosity, would you know of any treasure room?” Sertorius asked. “A location where Queen Persephone could have hidden the [Necklace of Harmonia]?”

Mmm… maybe in Aphrodite’s bedroom? Harmonia was her illegitimate daughter after all.

Kairos shot the idea down before Nessus could answer. “We can always find the relic after we defeat Thanatos, put an end to Helios, and save the island.”

“Point taken,” Sertorius admitted.

“The shortest path to the basement would be for us to turn back, go left until this crossroad, turn right, and then reach these chambers,” Thales said as traced a way on the map. “Unless parts of the structure have collapsed.”

“Let’s go then,” Rook chirped with impatience. “I want to stretch my wings again!”

After some consideration, Kairos gave his consent. “Very well,” he said. “Nessus, you move to the front with Agron and Cassandra. You guide us and—”

A chilling cold traveled through the corridor; the frosty embrace of death.

Nessus’ hands moved to grab his bow in alarm, though his nemesis didn’t show his face. Only his voice echoed through the hallway, nothing more than a raspy whisper.

“Turn back now,” Thanatos ordered. “Go back to your pointless lives. Return to the world of the living, and stop disturbing my stillness.”

“Uhm,” Agron grunted, unimpressed. “If you’re trying to talk us out of continuing now, it means that the satyr is right. The way down is in this direction.”

“You can still save your families from what is to come,” Thanatos whispered, ignoring Agron’s jab. “Live short yet longer lives. Go, and I shall stay my hand. But if you venture forth, your destiny shall be set in stone. You will meet your demise in the Kingdom of Death as I reap the last breath from your lungs, as predetermined by the Fate System. This is your final warning.”

“As far as threats go, I have heard better,” Cassandra replied with a shrug. “You failed to stop us with Cerberus, and we won’t turn back now.”

Sertorius snorted. “Will you dare to face us at last, cowardly reaper?”

Only silence answered.

“I thought so,” Sertorius taunted Thanatos with supreme arrogance.

“Let us go, my other half,” Andromache told Kairos while hitting the ground with her staff. “I have enough of this place—”

The cold breath of Death incarnate flowed through the corridor, and his answer with it.

“So be it. [Doomsday]."

Nessus gasped, as his heart froze in his chest for a brief second. Invisible fingers coiled around his soul, squeezing it like a rotten fruit.

[Doom] ailment resisted!

Thanatos’ grasp failed to hang on to this prize… but he claimed many others.

Nessus could only watch on in horror as fiery numbers appeared over his allies’ heads. Not all, for Thales and Cassandra had been spared from the spell's effects; the first because he was an automaton, the latter for she had died once before.

But everyone else, from Kairos to Rook, were marked by death. The number five hundred materialized above them in ghostly flames, immediately going down to four ninety-nine, then four ninety-eight...

As for Andromache… the nymph gasped in sheer terror, as a second, smaller number floated in front of her stomach. A system notification appeared before all the victims, with even the unflappable Sertorius paling in dread as he read.

[Doom] ailment.

If you fail to destroy [Thanatos] before the timer runs out...

YOU WILL DIE.

Nessus exchanged a heavy glance with Kairos.

However things went from now on, somebody would perish tonight.

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A/N: chapter made possible by you, dear patrons. 

Only a few chapters before the volume's end (I believe 91/92 should conclude it), with a little surprise awaiting. Enjoy.