Chapter 80: Hades.
Alaric sat in silence for a few minutes more before abruptly rising.
"I need to let out some steam." A glint flashed through his eyes as the events replayed in his mind.
Crow and the snapping turtle.
He gnashed his teeth, his nose flaring with seething rage.
Sure, it was his fault, but so was that of those who had actually committed the crime. He wasn’t going to let them off.
"Huu!" With a release of breath from his lungs, his rage calmed, yet the glint remained.
He walked out of the room, closing the door gently so as not to wake Kai up. In her current state, she had basically recovered and was sleeping normally.
"Make sure no one enters the room," Alaric said to the black-armoured guard behind the door. "Keep your senses on high alert just in case something happens," he added.
The black-armoured guard raised an eyebrow at Alaric’s way of talking but ultimately bowed in respect.
Only one guard stood behind the door, but Alaric was sure he was as powerful as, if not more powerful than, Raika. But for his loyalty, Alaric trusted him. The fear Hugh had shown was enough proof the man wouldn’t pull any stunts on her people for a while.
He wasn’t stupid enough to think he had allies in a new environment, especially considering his strange predicament: born of fire, embraced by water.
"Don’t worry, I’ll make sure nothing happens." The guard stamped his chest. "But if I may ask, where are you going, Young Master?"
"The dungeon."
"Huh?" The guard flinched.
What did a seven-year-old have to do with a dungeon?
.
.
.
Behind Vulcan Mountain.
"Young Master, are you sure you want to enter?" a silver-haired, middle-aged man asked Alaric for the seventh time.
They stood behind the Vulcan estate, at the base of the volcano upon which the estate sat.
Two bear-like men stood before a giant stone door filled with intricate runes and strange symbols.
Even to the bear-like men, standing at an imposing 8’1", the door made them look like dwarves.
Their muddy brown hair mirrored the door behind them, the only colour amid the black rocks around.
"Don’t worry. I want to see my mother, and I am also curious about the dungeons here." Alaric smiled innocently, the silver-haired butler remaining hesitant.
Even though Alaric was a Vulcan, he was still but a child. For a child to witness such horrors at such a young age worried him.
When he heard Alaric wanted to visit the dungeon, arguably one of the most secure dungeons on the continent, he wanted to flat-out deny him access.
Alaric was only a seven-year-old, and he wanted to enter a dungeon nicknamed Hades.
Why?
Because he missed his mother.
That was unheard of, and he wasn’t going to tolerate the little boy’s wishes.
The prison was home to the most dangerous criminals and demons on the continent, its conditions as bad as the abyss, filled with miasma, not to mention the constant screams of prisoners under torture, tangible malice, and killing intent strong enough to bring most adults to their knees.
He had said outright that Alaric couldn’t go into such a dangerous place, Alaric only replying with,
"Go ask if Mother will permit me."
The silver-haired butler didn’t hesitate, believing any mother wouldn’t want their child to see such horrors. Yet, upon asking Raika, who was interrogating Crow in the dungeon, she gave the go-ahead for him to come.
He had wanted to object, but Raika’s mental state wasn’t something to argue with, and even if she were normal, she wouldn’t care what someone less powerful than her had to say, especially about how to raise her son.
He could only bring Alaric to the dungeon’s gate, trying to convince the seven-year-old not to continue with such a reckless decision.
"Please reconsider!" the butler pleaded once again, Alaric only shaking his head with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
The butler flinched at the seven-year-old boy’s gaze. Though he smiled, it demanded no room for questioning.
"Open the gates."
Hesitantly, he gave the order, the bear-like men raising a brow, but they didn’t say anything.
The butler held the token that allowed him to go in and out as he pleased.
They turned towards the door, brownish aura enveloping their forms.
They pressed their hands against the door, facing in opposite directions.
Alaric looked on intently as they worked.
The energy from their bodies was visibly pulled into the runes, lighting them with a golden hue. They shone as if coming to life, reacting to the earth elemental mana.
GRRRRRRNNN!!!
The door slid open, the two halves pulling away from each other.
A rancid smell, worse than a rotting corpse, burst out of the partly opened door, greyish-black fumes pooling out slowly like the coattails of the abyss, which was the endless darkness that lay behind the door.
The sun hung low on the horizon, its fiery orange luminance bathing the surroundings before the opened dungeon doors. Yet the darkness repelled the sun’s orange glow, like a boundary between heaven and hell.
Alaric unconsciously scrunched his nose at the smell, adjusting his breathing.
The Butler believed just the smell alone should have been enough to dissuade the boy, yet the boy only scrunched his nose and stepped forward.
Even adults would vomit at the intense smell, yet the little boy walked forward, not even waiting for him.
The butler could only follow, dumbfounded, trying to figure out how this little boy could withstand such a horrid smell.
As a wind mage, he pushed the smell away from himself with subtle wind currents around his nostrils. Most who visited, including Raika, used a trick or two to reduce or repel the smell, yet the seven-year-old walked in as if he were entering his backyard.
"You have an hour," one of the bear-like men said to the butler as they stepped in.
This wasn’t a rule but a warning.
The miasma would begin to eat away at his mana if he stayed longer than an hour, to the point that he could become a cripple.
He knew this, but always welcomed the warning.
Alaric heard it. Curious, he inquired, "What did they mean by ’you have...’"
As he crossed into the darkness, he halted, falling to his knees, his breaths turning haggard as it felt as though the air he was breathing was being forcefully pulled out of him.
"Young Master!" The butler crouched down, quickly enveloping him with a mana shield, a sphere of transparent silver energy surrounding them, repelling the miasma that had almost claimed Alaric’s life.
He gasped, catching his breath, the air that had once refused his lungs now flowing in with little effort.
"What happened?" He touched his throat, a lingering ache spreading through his chest.
"The miasma here is too strong for one as young as yourself, Young Master."
"Miasma?" Alaric inquired.
"It’s the opposite of mana, where mana feeds us, miasma feeds demons, powering their spells, like fire and water, they are natural enemies..." the butler proceeded to explain, keeping the shield steady around them. "
Alaric listened intently as he sat within the wind shield, the miasma slowly eating away at it while the butler continuously supplied it with mana.
"Can you allow a less harmful portion into the shield?" Alaric asked, his gaze fixed on the darkness beyond the translucent barrier.
"Huh?" The butler stared at him, dumbfounded.
The kid had almost died, yet here he was, wanting to examine the very thing that had nearly killed him.
"He is a weird one," he thought as he allowed a small amount of miasma into the barrier.
He would have suggested otherwise, but now he was curious to see how this boy, who was hell-bent on entering Hades, planned to get there.
"Mother did say my mana should be on par with hers. Maria said so as well." Alaric twirled the black, smoke-like energy around his fingers, feeling it.
He was sure that if his mother could remain in such conditions, so could he.
The butler watched as Alaric brought the miasma to his nostrils.
"Hey, what are you doing?" He reached out, trying to stop him, but paused when nothing happened.
Alaric didn’t convulse as he had expected. Instead, he smiled as understanding dawned on him.
He could move as long as he had more mana than the surrounding miasma to counteract it.
But looking at the darkness ahead, he was certain he would still die, even knowing how to resist it.
"Let’s go." He rose to his feet, already thinking of another way to counteract it.
"Okay." Driven by curiosity about Alaric, the butler didn’t object.
He dismissed his barrier, curious to see how Alaric would handle it.
Before the darkness could rush in, another barrier formed around them, a foggy white barrier made of steam.
The butler’s pupils dilating in shock.
The steam barrier blocked the surrounding miasma just as his own element had.
"Lead the way."