Chapter 118: Unchanging Dead Lands

They passed under the iron gate without issue, Annie pausing to grab a sample on the way. Without a word, Liam stepped up beside her and grabbed one of the smooth spikes, tearing it off with minimal effort. Charon watched with wide eyes, unable to believe that the man was able to sheer metal with a single hand. The piece groaned, then snapped with a sound far too brittle for iron. It crumbled at the edges, flaking into ash that left streaks across Liam’s palm. He smirked, rubbing the useless bits off while tossing the chunk to Annie. "Weakest iron I’ve ever seen. Took barely any effort. I need a challenge or else I’ll grow soft." Annie smirked and placed the fragment in her pack. "That’s because you’re more muscle than man, Liam. An ordinary person would have never been able to do that single-handed." The brute scoffed. "Sounds like a them problem." As they pressed on into the Dead Lands, Charon couldn’t help but feel strangely comforted. Sure, the landscape was drab, the trees dead, and the grass the color of soot, but it was also calm. Except for the flashes of red lightning, he didn’t like those. They felt out of place, like an afterthought added to a painting that broke the rest of the piece. Achlys floated behind him without a word, the others oblivious to her existence amongst them. She just watched, like a lonesome sentinel. ’I hope she isn’t expecting me to entertain her. We can’t talk until we are alone, and even then, I don’t know if I want to after how she has been acting.’ He couldn’t get over how heartless she had been regarding humans. The path stretched ahead without definition, a plain of fractured stone that bled into mounds of grey dust. Every step sent up tiny clouds that clung to their boots and drifted back down as if reluctant to settle. The air was stagnant, slightly difficult to breathe, and carried no sound other than the scrape of their gear and the occasional cough. A faint fog was everywhere, not dense enough to block their vision, but still able to obscure things in the distance. Charon’s eyes roamed the landscape, looking for something that would break the monotony. Occasionally, members of the group would talk, but it was always under their breath in short whispers. Even Liam, usually loudmouthed, remained quiet, his axe drawn as if ready for combat at any moment. Not that Charon blamed him; he was one reason away from drawing his own dagger. After an hour had passed, Emerius fell back to stand beside him. He leaned in to talk, bringing his head near Charon’s shoulder. "You should summon your skeletons. We could use the numbers." Agreeing with the idea, Charon quickly found his mana and completed the spell, a large gathering of undead warriors appearing around them. The others jumped at their sight, but remained silent, a series of thankful nods breaking out as they saw the summons move for the perimeter. They created a cocoon around the others, giving them some breathing room should anything attack. The skeletons’ bone-white figures contrasted sharply with the grey haze, their hollow sockets glowing faintly as they marched outward into formation. Dust clung to their limbs and armor, but they moved on, their unfeeling bodies unbothered. Charon found his eyes drifting to their movements, watching the rhythm of their steps. He frowned as he realized they reminded him of something else. ’Alastor’s machines moved just like that. They didn’t feel alive, just an extension of his will. I suppose that’s what I should expect from undead summons.’ The path ahead narrowed between jagged ridges that jutted out of the ground like broken teeth. They weren’t stone, at least not entirely. Charon thought he saw veins of something darker running through them, like hard rubies hidden inside. Every so often, one of the ridges caught a flicker of red lightning and glowed for an instant, the color racing along the cracks before fading back to ash-grey. The group wound its way between them, shadows stretching long across the dust. He had his largest summons, the giant Clown Guard, remain between them and the strange rocks, unwilling to risk some kind of magical explosion from their presence. When the ridges gave way to another open stretch, the ground changed again. It was softer, almost sponge-like beneath his boots, sinking slightly with each step. Charon’s nose wrinkled at the smell rising from it, sour and metallic, reminding him of rotted meat left in the sun. The fog seemed thicker here, making it harder to keep track of everyone. Darius solved that by bringing them all closer together. Charon shivered and pulled his cloak tighter. The calm he had felt earlier was gone now, replaced by an unease, the kind you get when being watched. Achlys seemed to sense it too, her misty form often spinning as if to look behind them. ’Something feels wrong here.’ The next flash of lightning illuminated their surroundings, revealing shadowy figures. Annie gasped as the men drew their blades, Red being shoved between them all. Charon’s skeletons fell back in formation, the archers knocking arrows pointed into the fog. Darius raised his glowing sword to get a better view, but by the frown on his face, he seemed to find little success. Liam whispered just loud enough for all of them to hear. "You saw them as well?" Everyone nodded before Emerius offered a suggestion. "I think we should call out to them, try and lure them to reveal themselves. They could be other citizens or soldiers brought here." Darius seemed to agree, his voice rising as he yelled out. "Hey, who is out there?" No one responded, causing all of their fears to mount as tensions increased. ’Well, that didn’t work. Should make it pretty clear what side they are on.’ He looked up at Achlys, waiting for her to notice him before catching her attention with a wink. He then darted his eyes over to where the shadows were, silently telling her to scout. With an eye roll, she complied, floating out of his sight and into the mist. For a few tense minutes, they sat there, waiting to spot them again, before Achlys returned. Achlys drifted back into sight, her expression unreadable as she came to hover above the group. Her silence lingered while the men shifted uneasily, blades still drawn, eyes darting toward the fog. Finally, she gave the faintest shake of her head, a teasing smile on her lips as Charon frowned. ’Really? Messing with me at a time like this?’ He exhaled deeply in relief, the others shooting him a glare as if demanding he be silent. Realizing it’d be hard to explain how he knew the danger wasn’t there, he ordered his skeletons to explore, allowing them to return before the group checked things out themselves. As expected, it was just a few logs tilted upwards in the mud, creating the illusion of people watching them. ’She could have just said that rather than make us wait.’ The demi-god in question looked down at him and raised an eyebrow. "Do not confuse a convenient excuse with the truth, boy." He did his best not to look her way, his fists balling as he struggled to deal with her crypticism at a time like this. ’This has to be why her previous summoners didn’t explore her abilities very much. She is insufferable!’ Charon wanted straight answers, not riddles. Especially when they were schlepping through a mire that could be concealing a deranged cult hell bent on sacrificing them. The threat avoided, the group continued to push on, the skeletons remaining in their role as a deterrent. Minutes turned into hours as the swamp stretched on endlessly, Charon growing bored with the unchanging sights. Nothing ever differed in the Dead Lands, only rolling fields of black and gray, gray and black. Even the occasional flash of lightning didn’t break things up. Unsure what else to do, he took some time to close his eyes and practice with his new abilities. The mist around him shifted as he tried to command it, but only in quantities small enough to evade detection. A small ball here, a hammer there, all inconspicuous. Whenever someone looked his way, he let the spell fail, the mist drifting off to join the rest of its kind. ’It’s good to get the experience.’ That all changed when Red raised a hand, signaling their group to stop mid-step. Everyone turned her way as she pivoted to her left, her arm shaking as she raised it and pointed. "Weeds have found the garden."