CHAPTER 19: NEW REALM

Charon spun to avoid the blackened claws streaking towards his head, narrowly dodging as the dog-like beast flew past him.

He lifted the gray rock he had been using as a weapon, a sizable chunk of stone, and brought it down on the beast’s back.

A thunk followed by a low whine was all the confirmation he needed to know the creature was not going to threaten him any longer.

’Good, only a few more left.’

It was the seventh one he had taken out since he arrived at the River Acheron.

Barely a minute after his feet touched the sand, a pack of the creatures appeared. They looked like rottweilers, but skinnier. They were fast and had long claws, but broke easily.

Once they caught sight of Charon, they attacked, chasing him off the beach. Nearby, there was a tall jungle, green trees and multi-colored flowers bloomed to create a canopy that blocked most light from reaching the ground.

Luckily, the dogs weren’t very agile, allowing Charon to lose them in the dense foliage. Long vines and tall shrubs gave him the ability to climb up onto a large tree branch, hiding as the beasts ran beneath them.

He had then climbed back down and began tracking them, picking them off one by one. All it took was a clean strike, and they went down.

A howl alerted him to the next one.

’Okay, here we go again. Just like before.’

He had learned how to kill them, having had enough practice to know exactly how to approach.

Charon crept through the brush, pushing away ferns and branches as he grew closer to the source of the howl. The rock was clutched tightly in his palm, ready to strike whenever needed.

A scratching noise alerted him to the beast, standing just a few yards away.

Its canine face was sniffing the air, snapping left and right as it tried to track the smell Charon gave off, a useless action.

He was wearing the Warden of the River Acheron, a summon that seemed to remove any kind of smell he would normally give off.

’My not-so-useless summon is coming in handy now.’

Watching the creature meander around for only a moment longer, he attacked, throwing himself from the brush and swinging wildly with the stone.

The rock found purchase, colliding with the beast’s skull. It crumpled, falling to the ground without another sound.

’Yes! Just like that!’

Not every attack went so well, the proof being the handful of cuts dotting his arms and legs. They wept fresh blood under his robes, the cloth having repaired itself seconds after being damaged.

A low growl came from behind Charon, ending his celebration early.

’Shit.’

He dove to the ground a second too slow, the dog colliding with his back and throwing him forward.

Charon screamed as long, jagged claws dug into his back, passing through his skin with ease. He thrashed around, trying desperately to dislodge his attacker.

Only once he rolled over did he manage it, the beast breaking away only to charge in again.

Expecting it, Charon swung the rock around, bashing the creature in the eye and knocking it away.

Rising to his feet, he hissed as his back muscles tensed, the fresh wounds contracting in agony. His vision swam as pain blurred his senses.

Stumbling back, he almost tripped over a large root, catching himself just before he fell.

The dog, meanwhile, was reorienting itself, growling at Charon with renewed fury.

Prepared for the next exchange, Charon just grinned back, venom lacing his words.

"Come at me, bitch! I’m going to break your skull!"

As if it understood the taunt, the beast barked and charged in again, ready to rend flesh from bone.

Despite its speed, it was no match for a human; its size too much of a vulnerability in close quarters.

The rock hit its head clean, ending the beast’s life in an instant.

Sighing, Charon dropped his weapon and fell to the ground, blood loss and exhaustion catching up to him.

He leaned against the root and jerked the tome from the strap he had wound across his back. He had made it from thick vines he had found early on, unwilling to leave the book behind but also unable to fight while carrying it.

Just as he had done a dozen times that hour, he opened to the ritual page and tried to activate it again.

Nothing happened.

Cursing, he re-wrapped the book and pushed it over his shoulder.

’Gods damn it all!’

He had hoped it would have allowed him to return to his bedroom, but it never worked. Even when he re-read the Chapter, nothing told him how to get home, leaving him trapped in this new world.

’I need to find the Fortress of Souls; there has to be a method to return home there.’

Beyond being a possible way out, it also promised safety.

’The book says only the strongest souls get sent here.’

Charon had been in the River Acheron for only an hour and had already had his life threatened. There was no telling if the next creatures he stumbled across were as strong as a master mage.

Dragging himself to his feet, he grimaced at the pain and hobbled further into the forest, deciding it was best to distance himself from the dogs rather than continue the hunt.

He was already feeling faint; another couple of scratches and he might pass out.

’Sleeping here might as well be the same as suicide.’

He tried to move to the left where the foliage was less dense, but his robe held him back, pulling him to the right instead.

Sighing, he listened, pushing through the thick greenery with a wince.

It was like the article of clothing had gained a mind of its own ever since he used the ritual. It pulled him wherever it thought best, the action helping him avoid the larger packs of dogs more than once.

’The Warden knows this place better than I do, trusting him is the only option I have.’

The further he pushed into the jungle, the more sounds he heard. Howls, chirping, barks, and roars all mixed to create a cacophony of natural noises, each promising a new type of horror for him to face.

Each step made him regret the ritual more and more.

’It’s like I couldn’t have stopped myself if I tried. I had to come here, I just had to! My brain wouldn’t let me do anything else.’

He shivered as he remembered the draw, the need.

’I never want to experience it again.’

Pushing a large fern to the side, he paused mid-step, a new sound drawing his attention back where he had come from.

’Is that what I think it is?’

Leaning in to listen, he heard it again, this time more distinctly.

’Human shouting!’

Turning around, he ran as fast as he could, praying that someone else was here and could help him find the Fortress of Souls.

’Other soul mages, perhaps! The book said they used to be here, maybe some have survived!’

The possibility gave new fuel to his fire, making him run faster and forget his wounds.

Shoving a tall red flower to the side, he rapidly made progress to the source of the shouting, finally able to identify it as male.

Steel striking something hard echoed out from the same direction, the ringing familiar.

’A swordsman?’

Climbing over a large root, Charon fell to the other side and found himself in a small clearing, a pond sitting in the center. On the other side of the clearing was a field of tall grass, the sounds of battle emanating from within.

Feeling elated with the prospect of finding another human, Charon ran around the lake and pushed into the grass, tapping his trusty rock to remind himself he still had a weapon.’

Metal pierced flesh just a few yards away, the sick sound it made causing his stomach to turn, while simultaneously making him happy that the human was seemingly winning.

The moment he got close enough, he burst through the grass and finally saw what had been making all the shouting.

A tall teenager with blonde hair and a chiseled jaw looked back, two metal swords clutched in his hands. Blood soaked him from head to toe, staining the formerly clean black robes.

Well over a dozen canine bodies littered the ground around him.

Unable to recognize him at first, Charon just stared, his heart skipping a beat as the blood-covered man spoke, his voice labored.

"Charon?"