This was the first time Aergia had walked so far along the paths of the Underworld.
Ever since her birth in the Temple of Sleep, the scope of her actual activity had been extremely limited.
At most, she had traversed the long corridor leading from her divine seat to the main hall where Hypnos resided, or briefly descended to the earth alongside him once before.
Yet that time, the God of Sleep had personally torn through space, almost completely erasing the distance between the two realms.
Now, however, was different; the path leading to the earth lay truly stretched out before her eyes.
Black rock strata stretched endlessly ahead, the rough ground crisscrossed with fractures. Occasional wisps of ghastly white mist seeped up from underground, drifting sluggishly along the lower ground.
In the distance, no true sky could be seen; only a darkness so deep that distance became impossible to discern shrouded everything. The moisture of the River of Oblivion drifted slowly from some unknown direction, mingled with an ancient, stale scent unique to the world of the dead.
And walking beside her was none other than the God of Death, who would strike fear into all living creatures in countless future legends.
Thanatos was much younger than Aergia had imagined.
If Hypnos appeared like a deity who had just stepped into early adulthood, then Thanatos was closer to a young god who had only recently shed his boyhood.
His features bore a sixty to seventy percent resemblance to Hypnos, though his contours were somewhat softer, with faint traces of youthful innocence still lingering on his cheeks.
Dark short hair curled slightly, falling loosely over his forehead. A pair of grayish-blue eyes, unlike Hypnos's which were perpetually shrouded in deep drowsiness, appeared extraordinarily bright.
Especially when he was impatient.
Like right now...
“Can you walk a little faster?”
Thanatos stopped and looked back at Aergia, who was lagging behind him by about three paces.
A pair of dark wings folded behind his back. Unlike Hypnos's pure white, soft feathers, those wings shimmered with a somber, bluish-black hue, taking on a metallic, cold texture under the dim light of the Underworld.
A shortsword hung at his waist. There was no giant scythe so common in later legends, nor were there any eerie skull decorations.
A withered garland was wrapped around the scabbard, and beside the strap, a pale golden butterfly rested quietly. Every time its translucent wings opened and closed, specks of faint light fluttered off.
In Greek, butterfly was "psyche," meaning "soul." Aergia's gaze lingered on the butterfly for a brief moment.
“My apologies, Lord Thanatos.”
“Let's get one thing straight first,” Thanatos's voice suddenly came from ahead. “Hypnos only asked me to take you along to the earth on my way and help you find a flying mount. Keep up with me once we get outside, and don't wander off on your own.”
“Understood.”
“If you really run into trouble, I might not have time to look after you.”
“Alright.”
“Also, I won't go out of my way to stop and wait for you.”
“Mm.”
Aergia glanced at his movements—he had already turned back twice to check on her—and chose not to expose him.
Thanatos walked ahead, seemingly looking straight forward, yet the corner of his eye drifted back to Aergia from time to time. Even now, he had not figured out when Hypnos had gained a subordinate deity, nor why he had suddenly dumped her on him.
He knew his twin brother better than anyone. If Hypnos could lie down, he would never sit; if he could sit, he would never stand. Unless something truly worthy of his personal attention occurred in the sleep domain, even uttering two extra sentences was too much trouble for him.
Yet yesterday, he had specifically sought him out and rarely been so serious in giving him instructions.
He asked him to bring a minor god who had not been born long ago to the earth, and even specifically emphasized that he should take extra care of her.
At the thought of this, Thanatos could not help but steal another glance at Aergia.
The deity in the form of a young maiden followed quietly beside him, her pace neither fast nor slow, her expression always bearing a faint, lingering weariness. Her eyes, somewhere between amber and pale purple, were half-closed, looking as though she had just awakened from a long sleep.
That single glance didn't reveal much at first. But after looking a few more times, Thanatos gradually began to feel that something was off.
This aura... why did it look more and more familiar the longer he looked?
He took another careful look.
That expression of being too bothered to make a fuss no matter what happened, that aura that naturally evoked sleep, and the fluctuations of divine power on her body that clearly held a connection to the sleep domain...
Thanatos's steps gradually slowed down as an utterly absurd thought suddenly popped into his mind.
Wait!
Could that fellow Hypnos...
...have actually fathered a daughter out there behind their backs?
The moment this thought surfaced, even Thanatos felt it was ridiculous. But thinking carefully about it, everything seemed suspicious in every detail.
Hypnos's authority was different from his own; he had no need for a subordinate deity at all. Yet now he not only had one, but had specifically asked him to take her to the earth, even arranging a mount in advance.
The more Thanatos thought about it, the more he felt something was fishy.
The only question was—Hypnos usually was too lazy to even step out of the Temple of Sleep, so when on earth had he produced a daughter?
The young God of Death brainstormed all the way, ultimately failing to suppress the curiosity in his heart.
“Hey.”
Aergia turned her head, doubt in her eyes.
“What is your divine portfolio?”
Thanatos tried his best to make his tone sound natural.
Aergia didn't think much of it. To this day, she still felt the title Goddess of Sloth sounded rather unappealing. Now that she possessed the godhead of Sleep Induction, being out and about, "Guide into Sleep" obviously sounded far more impressive.
“I am the guide into sleep, the wielder of the godhead of Sleep Induction, Aergia Hypnagogos.”
Thanatos faltered visibly in his step.
Sleep. Even her divine portfolio was related to sleep.
And her divine name carried the distinct flavor of the sleep domain as well.
What more was there to say?
The expression on the young God of Death's face instantly grew complex.
A minor deity whom he was originally just looking after on the way at his brother's request had, in the blink of an eye, suddenly turned into his own junior.
The nature of the situation was entirely different now.
He unconsciously slowed his pace a bit.
Aergia quickly noticed this change. What was stranger still was that Thanatos's attitude toward her had somehow softened.
“Were you born not long ago?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever been outside the Underworld before?”
“I came once with Lord Hypnos, but didn't go far.”
Thanatos's brows instantly furrowed.
“Then don't go wandering around even more later. There are many ancient creatures on the earth, some of which are troublesome even for me. You aren't familiar with the outside world yet, so stay close to me.”
Saying this, he took another glance at Aergia, his gaze carrying an indescribable, elder-like concern.
“If you really encounter danger, stand behind me.”
Aergia: "..."
Strange, extremely strange.
Just a moment ago, this young God of Death clearly had an attitude of "I'm only taking you along on my way, don't count on me looking after you," so how did he suddenly become so easy to talk to after just a few words?
Furthermore...
Looking at Thanatos's handsome face that still retained a hint of youthful boyishness, and meeting that slightly affectionate, parental gaze, Aergia felt an indescribable sense of dissonance rise in her heart.
'Lord Thanatos, wearing that expression with that face of yours is really weird!'
Before she could ponder it deeply, a sound suddenly echoed from the darkness ahead.
At first it was only an extremely faint whimpering, like wind passing through rock crevices.
As they continued forward, however, the sound rapidly grew clear.
Weeping, begging, cursing, unwilling low growls, and a vast jumble of sharp murmurs whose exact meanings were no longer discernible.
Hundreds upon thousands of voices entwined in the darkness, echoing repeatedly along the cold rock walls of the Underworld, suddenly turning the originally dead-silent world exceptionally noisy.
Thanatos's face instantly darkened.
“At it again.”
He raised a hand to press his temple. The expression that had softened moments ago over mysteriously acquiring a "niece" grew visibly irritable.
“Crying every single day! They're already dead, so what's there left to cry about?!”
His voice rose abruptly. In the distance, several souls of the deceased who had been crying particularly loudly seemed to recognize the God of Death, and their weeping dipped momentarily.
Yet it lasted only a few breaths before an even more bloodcurdling wail erupted from another side. A vein seemed to throb on Thanatos's temple.
“Shut up!”
The God of Death's pressure swept past, and the entire area fell briefly silent. A moment later, those souls moved to a farther spot and resumed crying.
Aergia: "..."
She suddenly began to understand why Hypnos had specifically reminded her that Thanatos might have a bad temper.
“Are these all newly deceased creatures?”
“Of course,” Thanatos answered crossly. “What else could they be?”
Having said that, he probably realized his tone was a bit harsh, coughing somewhat unnaturally.
“They've just separated from their physical bodies and haven't adapted to the Underworld yet.”
Aergia looked toward the direction of the sound. Blurred contours of souls floated in the darkness.
They had long lost their physical bodies, yet still retained part of their forms and consciousness from when they were alive.
Some curled up beside rocks, trembling continuously; others angrily slammed into invisible boundaries; and still others merely wandered aimlessly, low and painful sobs constantly issuing from their mouths.
“Why do they stay like this?”
Thanatos shrugged.
“Afraid of death, afraid of the dark, afraid of this place, or feeling resentful.”
He was clearly long accustomed to all of this.
“Some feel they shouldn't have died, some can't let go of things from their lives, and others simply can't accept that they're dead. The body is gone, yet their consciousness still desperately clings on.”
As he spoke those final few words, Thanatos's tone carried a clear touch of resentment.
“It's noisy as hell.”
“Have you never tried making them quiet down?”
Thanatos turned his head, looking completely baffled.
“I am the God of Death. I'm only responsible for making lives that ought to die expire. I'm not responsible for making dead fools feel better.”
Rate on N.U.
