Chapter 81: Hades ( II )
The steam barrier blocked the surrounding miasma, just as his own element had.
"Lead the way." Alaric gestured, a rectangular opening parting in the thick steam barrier.
Miasma rushed in, the butler quickly reacting by setting a wind barrier over the opening.
"Why did you..." He paused, understanding dawning in his eyes as he noticed how perfectly the rectangular opening was placed, like the eye slit of a great helm.
He sharply turned to Alaric, the latter staring back with an innocent smile.
"That’s ingenious," the butler praised.
"Thank you. Mother taught me," Alaric lied through his teeth. He couldn’t be bothered to say anything more.
He could feel, though subtly, that the dark miasma outside was eating away at his mana.
Luckily, he was controlling steam from his storage ring, an actual physical medium.
If it had been pure elemental mana like the butler’s, it would have been depleted at a much quicker pace.
He felt the drain, but it wasn’t enough to cause any problems. He was sure he could last a whole day or more here.
"Wow."
"Shall we go?" The butler realized he was going overboard. They had to visit Hades.
He could only swallow his curiosity and take the lead, his eyes glued to the steam barrier.
"Steam?" It was the first time he had seen someone control this variant of water.
"A variant?!" He glanced at Alaric from the corner of his eye, evaluating his rank. "Is he a fourth?" He could only wonder. It was rude to check one’s rank, especially one such as Alaric.
They walked through the darkness, the butler lost in his thoughts somehow maneuvered through the pitch-black tunnel. Alaric was surprised he could move through the darkness so confidently.
" He should be Third Resonance or higher." Alaric thought. He remembered Raika mentioning something about being able to expand your senses after reaching a certain rank.
They moved in silence, the heavy miasma somehow lessening in density. Alaric could feel the drain reduce drastically, but before he could question it, he noticed a bright orange glow peering around a corner. Against the backdrop of darkness, it looked like the gates to hell itself, and in a way, he wasn’t far off.
As they rounded the corner, the Hades Dungeon came into view.
A hellish prison carved into the hollow heart of a volcano, where rivers of molten lava flowed like blazing waterways, converging into a vast fiery lake at its center.
Lava cascaded from the cavern walls like waterfalls, crashing into the molten lake below. Beneath each blazing fall knelt strange creatures, demons, and beings no words could properly describe, held in place by heavy ruins filled chains as the lava endlessly bathed their bodies.
Their horrid screams reverberated throughout the dungeon, blending into a chorus of endless torment.
Heat waves danced as they belonged, ash drifted lazily through the cavern like black snow.
The mist could do little to dilute the stench. Alaric covered his nose, his brows knitting in nausea and disgust.
Every breath carried the stench of sulfur, burnt flesh, and blood.
" Should we heard back? " The butler worriedly asked.
"No!"
Alaric removed his hand, a gas mask made of steam forming over his mouth.
"What is that?" Seeing such a device for the first time, the butler inquired, curiosity evident in his voice.
"Are those the prison cells?" Alaric changed the topic, unceremoniously steering the conversation in a different direction.
The butler could only smile awkwardly as he turned hus attention to the prison
Several rows of cells lined the towering walls, enclosed by bars made from the bones of creatures one could only imagine were horrors in life. Some bars were fashioned from ribs thicker than tree trunks, with skulls hanging above each cell. Some were similar, others weren’t, as if the prisoners had been grouped according to the threat they posed.
From where he stood, he couldn’t see what was inside the cells. The prison was eerily quiet, not nearly as rowdy as most, if not all, prisons he had been to.
"Are there no prisoners in?"
"You must be asking because of how quiet it is," the butler deduced.
Alaric nodded in confirmation.
"Well, most are too tired to scream, and the rest are probably dead or collapsed." He shifted his gaze elsewhere. "The warden is an eccentric, just like your grandfather."
Alaric followed his gaze, dispelling his steam barrier for a better view.
He could tell the miasma at the entrance was far denser than the one here, or at least that’s how it felt to him.
He looked toward the base of the spiraling staircase, where it met the lake of molten lava.
"Mother."
Raika stood with an entity made entirely of flames.
Its figure was humanoid, its body flickering with a mixture of molten lava and dancing flames.
They stood before Crow, the latter’s black flames like a dot in the orange brilliance of the lake below.
The latter’s hands and feet were bound, several gruesome, crater-like burn wounds marring his body, his blood sizzling the moment it touched the molten lava beneath him.
"There you are."
Alaric jumped down without warning, not even bothering to take the spiraling staircase.
"Young Master!"
The distance was about fifty feet, and the butler feared the lad would hurt himself.
He jumped after him, trying to catch Alaric mid-fall, but to his surprise, Alaric slowed his descent with pressurized steam, propelling himself upward from all four limbs before straightening to absorb the remaining momentum.
Amazed, the butler pulled back, his eyes widening as he watched the blue-haired boy gently land upon the molten lake.
"..."
He looked on, dumbfounded, unable to follow down himself.
He was a wind mage. The lava was sure to burn him to a crisp the moment he came into contact with it.
He was already perspiring under the dungeon’s intense heat.
To any non-fire mage, it was a literal hell, and even to most fire mages, they would feel the overwhelming heat radiating from the volcano’s very heart.
"Who is this? And what is that on his face?" the fiery entity turned to Alaric, the latter quickly rushing to his mother’s side, hiding behind her, his attention elsewhere.
"Oh, you are here." Raika, who had been wearing a murderous expression moments ago, beamed, hugging Alaric.
She had been interogating Crow after all.
She noticed the butler. "Thanks, you can head out now."
The butler bowed midair before flying out of the fiery pit.
"How is a water mage standing on molten lava?"
If not for his rank, just the heat would have been enough to claim his life, and thus he wondered how the blue-haired boy could stand on lava as if it were nothing.
Well, it wasn’t nothing. Alaric could feel the pain, but it was more akin to a prickling discomfort than actual torment.
"Is this the cursed child of Vulcan?" the fiery entity rubbed its chin in thought, its faceless gaze staring at the boy hiding behind his mother.
"He is the son of Hellflame and the Thunder Princess. Don’t call him cursed." Thunder crackled around Raika’s form, her face darkening with rage.
"And if I call him that again, what can you do, little girl?" the entity did not back down, stepping forward in provocation.
"I’ll fry you here and now. I don’t care that you’re family." Raika didn’t back down either, her chest heaving as lightning wrapped around her form, weaving itself into armor with a dragon-like tail slashing behind her.
Alaric had never seen this form, but he didn’t really pay much attention to it, nor to the fiery entity, which should have drawn his interest.
His gaze locked onto the unconscious Crow.
"Scum!" He gnashed his teeth.
As the entity and Raika remained locked on each other, Alaric walked toward Crow.
"Wake up, scum."
Steam enveloped Crow’s head, forming a rotating sphere of scorching white mist.
"What is the brat doing?" The entity was the first to notice Alaric, Raika raising a brow at her son’s actions.
Curious, the two didn’t interfere as they watched in silence.
The steam rotated with tremendous speed, like a small whirlpool pulling the air from Crow’s lungs.
"Ah... ah..." he began to gasp, his bloodshot eyes opening to the white, misty death.
"Good morning."
Alaric dismissed the spell, Crow’s blurry vision barely able to make out his silhouette.
He gasped and coughed, pulling in the scorching air around him like a fish out of water, his nostrils running, tears falling from his eyes.
"Wow!" The entity nodded, and though it was faceless, it looked as if it smiled.
"Where is your partner?" Alaric’s voice, cold and unfeeling, demanded.
...
Crow, regaining some of his senses, couldn’t believe what he was seeing, a blue-haired child standing before him on scorching molten lava.
Though that alone was unbelievable, it wasn’t what shook him.
It was the boy’s blood crimson eyes, brimming with bloodlust, like one who had witnessed more carnage than he himself ever had.
Though intangible, that murderous intent bore down on him.
"A demon..."