There are five rivers connected to the Underworld: the Acheron, Cocytus, Phlegethon, Styx, and Lethe.
According to the normal order, the souls of the dead must pass through Acheron, Cocytus, Phlegethon, Styx, and finally Lethe before they can reach the Fields of Truth.
During this journey, the dead cry along the banks of the Acheron as they struggle to accept their death, then lament their past lives beside the Cocytus while recalling their memories.
After that, their souls are purified in the flames of the Phlegethon, and they cross the Styx aboard Charon's ferry.
Finally, when the souls reach the Lethe, they drink its water, forget their previous lives, and step into the Fields of Truth.
There, three judges—Rhadamanthus, Minos, and Aeacus, decide the fate of every soul.
Those who lived kindly and upheld moral virtue are allowed to enter the Blessed Isles, also known as Elysium.
Those who committed evil in life are thrown into the hell reserved for criminals, where they suffer severe punishment in Tartarus.
Most souls, however, who committed neither great good nor great evil, remain in a plain covered with blooming narcissus flowers, where they either wander aimlessly in a dull existence or wait for the rebirth that will eventually arrive.
To manage the Underworld more easily, the Phlegethon, the river of fire, divides these three regions from one another.
Charon's ferry is one of the few means of transportation capable of crossing between the different regions.
More importantly, this guy only recognizes money.
As long as the payment is sufficient, it doesn't matter whether the passenger is human or ghost, he will ferry them across anyway.
At this moment, Lorne personally experienced the exceptional professional ethics of the ferryman of the Styx.
Because living people had boarded the boat, the ferry swayed heavily under the weight of the law of life itself, while countless lost spirits in the river sensed the scent of the living and surged toward the vessel in waves.
Some tried to taste the freshness of life, while others attempted to seize the beautiful bodies of the living.
Standing at the bow, Charon calmly plunged the long pole in his hand into the river and stirred the waters, as his authority spread through the burning Styx.
The ripples that formed shattered the twisted souls one after another, allowing the swaying ferry to continue forward steadily.
Judging from his skillful movements, the old ferryman had clearly handled situations like this many times before.
Soon, under the guidance of this professional smuggler, the group followed the Phlegethon and successfully reached the border of Tartarus.
"We've reached the fork in the river. Repeat what you promised earlier."
With a muffled voice, Charon stopped stirring the water with his pole, then turned his head and looked expressionlessly toward Sisyphus at the stern.
The professional con artist immediately felt miserable.
The fork ahead was part of the Styx itself, the so-called River of Oaths.
Any oath sworn in the name of the Styx was considered extremely sacred.
Humans who broke such oaths would often be swallowed by the river after death, suffering eternal divine punishment within its icy waters.
Most of the tormented souls they had seen struggling in the river along the way had ended up there because of this.
Furthermore, as the three judges gradually took office and the divine authority of the Underworld became more stable, even gods who broke oaths sworn in the name of the Styx would suffer backlash.
However, compared to fragile humans, the punishment for gods was much lighter, usually no more than a year of unconscious sleep.
Seeing that Sisyphus remained silent, Charon's expression slowly darkened.
"You want to go back on your word?"
"Relax. As long as he escapes the Underworld, my friend will do anything!"
Lorne spoke confidently while guaranteeing the promise, then exchanged a glance with Thetis before the two of them stepped forward in perfect coordination, firmly grabbing Sisyphus from both sides.
Sandwiched between them like filling in a biscuit, the professional swindler realized he could no longer avoid the situation, so he reluctantly faced the flowing Styx beneath the boat and repeated the promise he had made earlier on the shore.
Thirty Zeus gold coins blessed with faith, along with two grand sacrifices.
Honestly speaking, although the price was expensive, it was not enough to bankrupt him.
However, compared to losing money, what truly hurt Sisyphus was the psychological humiliation.
Back in the day, he had kidnapped the god of death and tricked the lord of the Underworld himself.
Even Hades had failed to force him to fulfill the promised sacrifice, eventually throwing him into Tartarus while raging helplessly.
After surviving so many storms in life, how could he end up capsizing in such a small gutter?
Once the final oath was absorbed by the Styx, Charon finally nodded in satisfaction before pushing the pole back into the river and guiding the ferry into one of the river's branches.
Perhaps because they had left the dangerous region around Tartarus, the surrounding scenery gradually became more lively.
On the plains, plants such as narcissus, pomegranate, and myrrh not only survived the deathly atmosphere but actually grew unusually lush.
Along the riverbanks, strange plants grew in dense clusters.
Their stems were upright and ridged, covered with coarse hairs, while their leaves were deeply divided like feathers with serrated edges.
Purple-red and pink flowers bloomed brilliantly among them.
Even more striking were clusters of black-and-gold flowers.
As the wind flowed through them, the flowers swayed gracefully, and faint star-like lights shimmered among them, creating a breathtaking scene.
After observing carefully,
Thetis suddenly realized that they were not flowers at all.
They were large black-and-gold butterflies about ten centimeters long, resting on the plants and gently flapping their wings, creating the illusion of blooming flowers.
As if sensing her gaze, the butterflies within the "flower field" suddenly took flight, resembling streaks of starlight in the night sky as they drifted toward the goddess on the boat.
How beautiful…
The natural desire for beauty that women possessed caused Thetis' eyes to grow slightly dreamy, and she unconsciously reached out her hand to touch the lovely little creatures descending toward her, hoping to add a splash of color to the otherwise gloomy journey through the Underworld.
"Don't touch them!"
Just as her fingers were about to brush against the butterflies, a thunderous shout exploded beside her ear, and her ivory-like wrist was suddenly pulled back.
At the same moment, a slender hand beside her moved like lightning, drawing several Hermes runes in the air before shooting them forward, runes which collided with several of the approaching butterflies.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
The beautiful insects exploded midair, scattering glowing powder that shimmered like falling stardust, creating a fragile and elegant beauty similar to the strange colors of a dream.
As the powder drifted in the wind, a strong floral fragrance filled the air, bringing with it a sense of mental relaxation and pleasure.
Without even realizing it, Sisyphus at the stern had already collapsed onto the deck and fallen fast asleep, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.
But they were fleeing for their lives—how could he possibly fall asleep at a time like this?
Now Thetis no longer felt any admiration or enjoyment.
Instead, she stood behind Lorne with lingering fear, cautiously staring at the black-and-gold butterflies dancing along the riverbanks.
This was the Underworld.
How could there possibly be ordinary creatures here?
In a place filled with danger, she should never have been so careless.
Which meant that those creatures possessed the power to bewitch the mind.
"They're Underworld butterflies."
Lorne answered in a low, calm voice while his purple eyes quietly examined the plants growing along the riverbanks, his knowledge of alchemy automatically matching them with the creatures.
Poppies… and valerian…
In ancient Greece, valerian was known as the Sacred Herb and the Sleep Herb, while poppies had similar properties.
Just like the Underworld butterflies, they were symbolic plants associated with a certain god of the Underworld.
After glancing at the swarm of black-and-gold butterflies gathering along the banks, Lorne suddenly raised his foot and kicked Sisyphus.
"Wake up. Your old enemy has caught up."
As burning divine power carrying the authority of purifying flames slammed into his body, Sisyphus jumped up from the deck like a monkey whose tail had been set on fire.
When he saw thousands of Underworld butterflies flying toward their fragile boat from both sides of the river, his face changed drastically.
"Hypnos!"
"You idiots… did you provoke the god of sleep?"
At the same time, Charon also realized that this smuggling trip was very different from usual, and that he had been dragged into something dangerous.
Immediately, he turned hostile.
"No. I'm not finishing this trip!"
He only wanted to earn some money, but the other side clearly wanted his life.
"I'll pay more. Triple. He'll pay!"
Under Lorne's "friendly" gaze, and with his shoulders firmly held, Sisyphus could only nod in grief and anger.
But Charon shook his head firmly, fear appearing in his eyes.
"Even ten times the price won't work. They'll kill me!"
"Twenty times. And I'll build you a statue."
"Hiss—"
Hearing his words, Charon sucked in a cold breath, his throat moving dryly as he struggled for a long moment before finally muttering,
"This isn't about money…"
"Thirty times. Take it or leave it."
Hearing such an outrageously wealthy offer, Sisyphus almost burst into tears.
After all, the one shouting the price was someone else, but the one paying the bill was him.
If the earlier ferry ticket had only been a small loss, this deal was truly devastating.
However, before the unfortunate victim could protest, the ferryman of the Styx completely threw away his fear of the Underworld's rules and his fellow workers the moment he heard the final price.
"Deal!"
Then he eagerly looked toward the generous sponsor on the boat, rubbing his hands while asking politely.
"Where do you want to go?"
"The Fields of Truth."
"Got it!"
Charon immediately grabbed the long pole and began rowing with all his strength, driving the ferry forward like lightning as it rushed past the banks filled with valerian and poppy plants.
"Hmph… stubborn fools."
But in the next moment, a cold voice echoed across the river.
Countless black-and-gold butterflies gathered in the air above the water, forming the outline of a golden-haired, golden-eyed figure as it slowly raised its arm.
Instantly, the dancing butterflies transformed into a hundred-meter-long sword shining with chilling light.
Dream descends, fantasy becomes reality.
Turning thoughts and imagination into tangible weapons—that was the fighting style of the God of Sleep.
As Hypnos lowered his arm, the enormous sword swept across the river with icy killing intent, slashing toward the ferry speeding across the water.
(End of Chapter)