Seeing the three vicious dog heads wrapped in flames getting closer and closer, Sisyphus immediately panicked.
"Did you bring honey cakes? Hurry and throw one to it!"
In ancient Greece, people had a custom of placing a honey cake inside a coffin, as the purpose was to please the three-headed hound of hell, Cerberus.
They hoped that after feeding the beast, the soul of the deceased would be spared from its attacks.
Fortunately, as a subordinate of the hearth goddess Hestia, Lorne had plenty of this kind of easily stored food inside his magic formation storage.
As Sisyphus was forced all the way to the edge of the River Styx, he quickly traced a Hermes rune with his fingers, then tossed a honey cake into the air.
"Wooof!"
The three-headed hellhound that had been glaring fiercely at Sisyphus immediately abandoned the two-legged prey in front of it, as it caught the sweet scent drifting through the air, leaping upward with a low growl and swallowing the falling honey cake in one bite.
Since the food wasn't distributed evenly, the three heads quickly began biting and bumping into each other.
It actually ate it?
Seeing the infamous Cerberus react like that, Lorne narrowed his eyes, then casually tossed several more honey cakes into the air.
The three heads that had been fighting instantly stopped arguing, as the huge beast excitedly ran around on its four legs, appearing precisely at every landing point of the cakes, its three ferocious mouths opening wide while constantly catching the food falling from the sky.
These honey cakes not only tasted unusually good, but they also carried a rich scent of grapes.
Left, right, up, right…
While Lorne kept throwing the cakes toward tricky angles, he secretly observed the beast's movements and reactions, gradually draining Cerberus' stamina as the dog chased each falling piece.
As the hellhound's steps slowly became unsteady and its eyes turned hazy, the scheming feeder revealed a sly grin, then raised his hand and threw the final honey cake far away.
"Go!"
"Wooof!"
Cerberus suspected nothing, as it instinctively jumped toward the honey cake in midair and caught it perfectly in its mouth.
However, in the next moment, the airborne hellhound traced a graceful parabola and fell straight into the surging waters of the River Styx with a loud splash.
The dark and gloomy river water churned violently, as shifting deathly energy formed countless twisted faces of wailing souls, which rushed frantically toward Cerberus after sensing the scent of living flesh.
The three-headed dog could only stop paddling its limbs while letting out low growls, as it tried to shake off the ghosts clinging to its body.
But in the chaos, countless undead spirits dragged the beast beneath the water, causing it to rise and fall repeatedly with the waves.
"So it was this easy to deal with Cerberus?"
Standing by the riverbank and watching bubbles rise from the surface, Sisyphus couldn't help mocking with glee.
"This stupid dog is unbelievably dumb!"
Splash!
Before he could celebrate for long, a sudden sound of water splashing came from behind him.
Then a huge figure rose upright behind him, casting a terrifying shadow forward.
When Sisyphus caught sight of the familiar outline of three heads, his body froze instantly, and then he turned and ran without hesitation.
Boom!
However, before he could even take a step, the massive hellhound slammed down on top of him.
"I was forced! Those two are the real culprits!"
In the moment of crisis, Sisyphus hurriedly closed his eyes and tried to shift the blame.
Yet the barking and pain he expected never arrived, and instead a series of deep snores echoed beside his ears.
Snores?
Sisyphus cautiously opened one eye and looked at the three-headed hellhound sleeping soundly on top of him, his face instantly filling with confusion.
"It fell asleep?"
"To be precise, it's drunk."
Lorne stepped out of the swirling mist of death while smiling calmly.
"The honey cakes I threw earlier were soaked in wine."
To be honest, using drugged honey cakes to trick this foolish dog was not something he had invented.
In The Aeneid, the prophetess Sibyl once fed Cerberus cakes mixed with sleeping herbs.
In The Golden Ass, Psyche, the lover of the little god of love Eros, also used drugged cakes to make Cerberus fall asleep.
Another legend even said that Psyche once distracted the beast using a loaf of bread.
In short, this three-headed dog had been knocked out many times simply because it liked eating random food.
After hearing the explanation, Sisyphus finally understood.
No wonder the beast had dived straight into the River Styx for that honey cake without even thinking.
At that moment, Lorne walked to the riverbank and began examining the famous hellhound with curiosity.
Perhaps because it had been soaked in the water of the Styx, the hellfire surrounding its body had already gone out, and the terrifying image it once had completely disappeared.
What remained was simply a drenched dog that looked like an ordinary household pet.
The only differences were that it was several times larger and had three heads.
Moreover, the black-and-white color pattern on those heads, along with the slightly silly expressions they carried, gave him a strange sense of familiarity, as if he had seen something like this before.
After thinking for a moment, he suddenly slapped his forehead in realization.
Alaskan Malamutes and Huskies!
Those three heads looked exactly like enlarged versions of those two breeds, as if their entire bodies were radiating an aura of questionable intelligence.
No wonder the Greek gods often played with Cerberus and turned it into comic relief in so many myths and legends.
It seemed the real problem was simply its genes.
And the underworld was actually relying on a creature like this to guard its gates.
No wonder heroes from every era kept treating this place like a dungeon and clearing it again and again.
Shaking his head, Lorne kicked the sleeping hellhound aside, then grabbed Sisyphus from underneath it while smiling brightly.
"Oh right, what were you saying earlier?"
The latter stiffened immediately.
Looking at the hand gripping his wrist like iron tongs, he suddenly spoke with righteous determination.
"I'm the main culprit! You two were forced! If anything happens, you run first and I'll stay behind to cover you!"
"Hmm, now that's a true friend."
Lorne nodded with satisfaction before turning his head slightly.
"Did you record everything?"
"Every single word."
Thetis raised the faintly glowing conch shell in her hand, then stepped forward and asked kindly,
"Anything else you want to add, friend?"
"N-No… nothing…"
Sisyphus cried miserably while shaking his head repeatedly, as he finally realized he had once again been manipulated by the shameless pair standing before him.
After giving this habitual swindler a proper warning, Lorne spoke again.
"If there's nothing else, then continue leading the way."
Sisyphus nodded gloomily, then took out three gold coins from his clothes and threw them into the River Styx.
Soon ripples spread across the water, and a worn wooden boat slowly emerged from the dense fog of death.
The ferryman standing on the boat wore a black robe, his hunched figure holding a long pole while giving off a gloomy and somewhat sleazy impression.
He was Charon, the ferryman of the Styx, whose job was to transport souls between the world of the living and the world of the dead.
Of course, anyone who wanted to ride his boat had to pay a bribe.
Because of that, covering the eyes of the deceased with two coins eventually became a common Greek funeral custom.
As the ferry approached, the water of the Styx began to boil violently, while twisted spirits scrambled desperately toward the boat.
Charon, already used to this scene, stirred the river with his pole, as the ripples shattered and dispersed the clinging ghosts.
However, the spirits still refused to give up, and as the boat drew closer to the shore it began rocking more and more violently.
Soon Charon found the source of the disturbance, as he frowned and looked toward the two figures standing on the riverbank.
"Living people?"
"Cut the nonsense. Are you taking us or not?"
Sisyphus stepped forward while blocking Lorne and Thetis behind him, as he took the initiative to handle the negotiation.
After a moment of silence, Charon raised his head and carefully examined the two living people standing before him.
While the atmosphere grew slightly tense, Lorne glanced at Thetis, and both of them quietly moved their hands behind their backs.
"...It'll cost extra."
That firm reply almost made Lorne lose his balance.
However, Sisyphus seemed completely used to this behavior, as he raised one finger.
"One grand sacrifice."
"Two. And thirty Zeus gold coins."
As Charon spoke, he stretched out his withered hand and scooped the three coins out of the river water, then greedily brought them to his nose and inhaled.
A faint golden stream of light flowed from the coins into his body, causing the old ferryman's thin flesh to become slightly fuller.
Faith power?
Seeing this scene, Lorne immediately understood.
Although Thanatos, Hypnos, and Charon were all creations of the authority of the night goddess Nyx and could be considered brothers in a certain sense, their situations were completely different.
The god of sleep and the god of death both possessed clear and powerful divine authorities.
Charon, however, lived a far more miserable life.
He had no real believers and received no offerings, so the only thing he could do was ferry souls across the river while scraping together bits of faith power from passing spirits, barely maintaining his half-dead existence.
Most of that faith power came from the coins placed over the eyes of the dead.
Because of this, Charon had developed an extreme obsession with money.
According to legend, as long as someone paid enough, even living people who intruded into the underworld could board his ferry while he simply pretended not to notice anything.
(End of Chapter)