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SOM - Chapter 5 - Eye See You
🕑 Added 2024-03-17 19:44:55 +0000 UTCWithout thinking things through, Luke drew back his hammer and aimed the claw at the eyeball. The creature on the other side showed an unexpected level of intelligence by simply moving out of the way.
“Watch where you swing that thing. You could take an eye out,” a deep voice with a mild Irish accent said from behind the door.
“Wha- you're alive?” Luke's grip on the hammer loosened in astonishment.
“I suppose that depends on your definition of the word, doesn’t it?”
“But you… you’re talking?”
“Well noticed. Are you the village idiot? I know this is the frontier, but even so…” the man said, trailing off at the end, before continuing. “Haven’t quite finished evolving, have you?”
Luke was taken aback. He had braced himself for the possibility of more undead on the train but had not expected to be bullied by one. He cautiously tried to peer through the hole. His limited view revealed a leather trench coat, worn by an exceptionally tall man. A gaunt face looked back at him.
“Who are you? You’re not the train driver,” Luke said. Even though he recognised the accent, this was obviously not the jolly man from previous train announcements.
“Oh, but I am,” he said with a dark chuckle. “That other fella was in my way, so I took over the driver’s seat. My name’s Charon, what about you monkey man?”
“I’m Luke. Don’t call me names,” Luke’s grip on the hammer tightened. He was sensitive to name-calling, as Ryan discovered last night.
“It wasn’t that long ago that your lot were knuckle-dragging Neanderthals. To a thing like myself, the difference is barely noticeable. You’re all just primates,” the man said in a voice that made Luke feel pathetically small, like the entire human race bored him.
A chill ran down Luke’s spine. “Are you… death?”
“Hah! No, [Death] and I don’t get on, but we are acquainted. I’m the [Ferryman]. I deal in the in-between.”
“As in the Charon? From Greek myths? Shouldn’t you have a boat?”
“Your ancestors didn’t dream me into being, they merely latched on to the idea from beyond the Veil. Do you honestly think that in the entire omniverse, your particular breed of primate is the first to have come up with the [Ferryman]? My form changes across time and space. This time I have a train. Is that a problem, mortal?” he said. The last word was spoken with derision.
Off to a great start, Luke thought. “No, there’s no problem, but, if you’re so powerful, why are you stuck here?”
“I am not bound by this realm, but where the Styx goes, I go. It is my purpose throughout the veil to deliver deceased souls to the realm of [Death], and to offer an alternative.”
“Could you drive us out of this dungeon then?” Luke asked hopefully.
“I could, but I won’t. I don’t carry the souls of the living for free, monkey-man. The customary payment is two gold coins, but the anchors have been altered. Your world spirit is rather impertinent; her role is not to meddle. I suppose she takes after the arrogant apes that birthed her, but I digress. If you wish to leave this realm I require two golden tickets, and you don’t have any.”
“Where can I get a golden ticket then?” Luke asked, then as an afterthought muttered under his breath, “you old bastard.” The words slipped out before he could stop himself. Being called names always got under his skin, as did the mocking attitude.
There was a pause as an aura of malice filled in the air. His pithy retort had not gone unnoticed. The door clicked and slowly swung open.
Luke instinctively retreated from the figure that emerged and filled the carriage with his imposing presence. The man's pale skin stretched thin over a skeletal frame, and his towering height forced him to stoop.
As Luke backed away, the gaunt man leaned forward, resting his forearms on the blue seats to bring his small face closer. Charon wasn’t as physically large as the shadow giants deeper in the city, but he exuded a sense of power that made him far more frightening.
Luke couldn’t help but notice the flayed open ribcage and open chest cavity. He might have found what killed the old lady. Any thoughts of standing up for himself fled, replaced by a sense of overwhelming pressure.
After a moment that seemed like for an eternity, the intensity in the air lessened.
Charon eased back and sat on the floor of a train like a comically giant child. He briefly ran a slender hand through his bushy ginger beard and adjusted the black bowler hat sitting atop his head. Luke still didn’t move. A laugh, deep and resonating, broke the tense silence, its sound oddly comforting despite the surreal circumstances.
"Come now, I'm not your enemy; I'm just an honest soul trying to do his job. If you get those tickets, I'll take you anywhere in the sector touched by the Styx," Charon offered. His tone was amicable, but there was a sadistic glint in his eye.
"How much is a ticket?" Luke asked, swallowing hard.
"You can’t buy a ticket, that’s not the way it works. You need to kill an anchor. From what I gather, your world spirit calls them bosses. When killed, their essence will form into a ticket," Charon casually explained.
"A boss? Do you mean like those giant shadow creatures in the city?"
"No, nightwalkers are just regular aetherlings. Bosses have souls. They shape the dungeon around them and anchor it to the physical world. You would stand no chance against them, even with your system holding your hand."
Absorbing the deluge of information, Luke steadied himself and stood up. He maintained a cautious distance from Charon. Despite the jovial act, he had seen a hint of what lay behind the mask. Luke wasn’t suicidal, so suppressed the urge to punch the monster in front of him.
“Souls… are they part of the system? Luke asked. He was a bit sceptical, even if it was apparent that his old beliefs were fundamentally incorrect.
“Of course souls aren’t a creation of your little system, it is the other way around. Souls are the bedrock of the veil and shape the aether around them. Your world spirit merely created a new concept when she made your [System]. Many factions structure their cultivation similarly, but it doesn’t get spoon fed to them.”
From the way he spoke, Charon viewed the system with distaste, yet he was clearly a font of useful information.
I need to be careful, but maybe I can get some answers out of this guy, Luke thought. He took a breath in and a breath out, then boldly looked Charon in his milky eyes.
“And…. What is a concept? Could you help me remove one? I gained the concept of [Undeath] and I’m pretty sure I don’t want it,” Luke pushed for more information.
“Why would I do that? I am a literal manifestation of the thin line between life and death. [Undeath] is my core concept. Just because I wear this man’s skin, do not mistake me for a mortal.” Charon rumbled, his voice taking on an annoyed tone.
Not wanting to have his heart eaten by an eldritch monster, Luke cut the conversation short at that point. He made a few thin excuses about needing preparation to go hunting for golden tickets and backed away. For his part, Charon didn’t seem to care, and ominously stated that one way or another he always got his due.
The gaunt monster disappeared back inside the driver’s compartment, and closed the door behind him. As the lock clicked into place, a flat ivory bone grew into place over the hole Luke left in the door. The casual display of magic barely registered in his mind.
The conversation left Luke's throat parched, and he considered his next move. It could have gone better, but he now had a path forward, out of the dungeon. However, in the short term, he had to secure his immediate survival. That meant he needed food, water and a safe place to sleep.
Water was the easiest amenity to find, considering the river of the dead below. He would soon find out if it was safe to drink. Food and shelter could come later. Luke had entertained the notion of turning the train into his home base after he cleared it of the undead. It hardly felt like a safe haven any more, even if the city below was just as bad. He didn’t want to wake up to his heart being eaten.
Approaching the gangway between carriages Luke crouched down. After staring at the glowing runes for a few moments, he sat down and dangled his feet on the edge. The train only hovered about five feet in the air, so Luke simply lowered himself down until his feet touched the bridge below. Up close the hum of the runes was even louder.
Luke walked to the edge of the bridge and looked down.
Built out of the cliff face itself the bridge overlooked the river on one side and the city on the other. Luke decided to climb down to the small shingle beach at the base of the cliff. It was a thirty-foot drop to the rocks below, so Luke took care as he began his descent.
Fortunately, the support beams holding the bridge aloft had been carved with regular ridges, which he used to climb down. With Luke’s enhanced attributes, he had no trouble at all. His raw strength was sufficient that he could hang from the bridge one-handed, though his muscles quivered from the strain.
By the time he reached the beach, Luke had a broad grin plastered all over his face. His confidence had been knocked by his conversation with the Ferryman, but the power on offer in this new reality was intoxicating. A day into the new era and he was already on the level of an Olympic athlete. It made him wonder what the peak must look like if he was only just scratching the surface.
On a whim Luke took off his shoes and socks as he walked to the water’s edge, and savoured the feeling of the pebbles under his feet.
The sensation brought back memories of the last time his family had all been in the same place together almost five years ago. His parents had rented out a cottage near Avon beach for a week after winning the weekly scratchcard. He remembered his brother, Nathan, treating them to a fancy meal in town with his first paycheck as a software engineer.
These memories filled Luke with anxiety about family. He worried for his mum surviving by herself, and for his baby brother. Nathan was a grown man, but he was also scrawny, and asthmatic and had never been in an actual fight in his life.
Last time they spoke on the phone Nathan had been recovering from a chest infection and hadn’t left his house in a week. Luke tried to stay optimistic. If anyone could navigate and exploit the game-like system, it would be Nathan, who spent most of his free time speed-running computer games.
After his brief moment of nostalgia, Luke bent down to pick up a stone as a keepsake, a tangible reminder of what he was fighting for. He paused and gathered a handful of larger stones to put in his bag. Carrying something heavy to throw at things seemed prudent, and for all he knew could earn him a new concept. Earth-bending would be infinitely preferable to turning into a zombie.
Approaching the water Luke was thankful that none of the spectral ghosts swam in the shallow water by the beach. He unscrewed the Coke bottle and filled it with water. Up close the green tint was barely noticeable, so he cautiously took a sip. After waiting several minutes and suffering no adverse effects Luke gave in to temptation and drank the rest of the bottle. It was refreshing.
An hour later Luke had drunk his fill, washed blood and gore from himself, and even had a go at cleaning his clothes in the river. They were damp even after wringing them out, but that was still better than the sticky feel of dried blood against his skin. The stench of rotting flesh was gone, much to Luke’s relief. He had his hammer; he was ready. It was time to explore the city of the dead.
Let’s go hunting.
