Charon's gondola glided along the river Styx with a supernatural and heavy silence. There was no sound of water splashing against the petrified wood hull; the vessel moved with a smooth and constant purpose that seemed to cut through time itself, leaving behind not a wake, but a void. The grey fog, thick as damp shrouds, enveloped them, erasing the view of the pier and the chaos Leo had left behind. The sharp sound of the Wraith fighting against Persephone's shadow barrier faded, replaced by something far more unsettling: the silent, perpetual lament of the souls writhing just below the dark, oily surface of the water. They were featureless faces, mouths open in screams that produced no sound, a carpet of eternal despair upon which they sailed.
Leo sat on a small bench of time-polished wood, his body trembling as the adrenaline dissipated, leaving behind a cold that was not just from the river's breeze. He was in the same boat as the Queen of the Underworld and her immemorial ferryman, two entities whose existence was measured in eras. His aura scanner, still active on his smartphone, was overloaded. The purple dot representing Charon blinked with the label "UNCLASSIFIABLE," an admission of defeat by the system. Persephone's aura was a complex stain of darkness and subtle power, which the scanner labeled only as DIVINE - THREAT LEVEL: SOVEREIGN. It was like trying to measure an ocean with a teaspoon.
Persephone sat before him, her regal posture perfectly composed, indifferent to the misery that surrounded them. She held the small vial of the [Tear of a Satisfied Dragon] between her fingers, its silver light reflecting in her ancient eyes. She didn't seem angry for being used as bait. She seemed... entertained, as if Leo were the first interesting show to happen in her kingdom in centuries.
"That was the most chaotic and disrespectful thing I have ever seen a mortal do," she said, her calm voice cutting through the silence. "To throw a treasure at a Queen as if you were throwing a stick for a dog. And to use my status to create a diplomatic incident and escape a bureaucrat. It was brilliant."
"It was desperation," Leo corrected, his voice hoarse.
"Desperation is the catalyst for all interesting creativity," Persephone replied. "You turned a power standoff into a paperwork problem for the Syndicate and a pest problem for me. And in the process, you escaped. Many demons with millennia of cunning would not have thought of that." She twirled the vial, the silver light dancing. "But now, you owe me. I dealt with your Wraith. I gave you passage on my boat. And this little treasure," she smiled, a gesture that did not reach her eyes, "will be my payment for my help."
Leo didn't argue. He was alive and free (for now), and that was payment enough. The loss of his only bargaining chip was a problem for the future Leo. The present Leo was focused on not dissolving from sheer terror.
He looked at the hooded figure at the stern. Charon rowed with slow, economical movements, his long oar dipping into the dark water without making a single ripple. Leo couldn't see his face, only the deep darkness under the hood, but he felt the weight of his gaze, an ancient attention that seemed to read his history, his fears, his soul.
"The mortal is staring, my Queen," Charon's voice echoed, deep and resonant, like stones scraping at the bottom of a river.
"He is merely processing his own insignificance, Charon. It is a common experience for his kind," Persephone said with disdain.
"He smells of many places," the ferryman continued, his oar never stopping its hypnotic rhythm. "Dragon fire. Ancient forest. And the ink of the Library. He carries many stories for such a short life."
"He is my new courier," Persephone said, as if that explained everything. "He brings me things."
The gondola continued its journey through the fog. Leo began to see lights in the distance, not the warm, welcoming lights of a city, but cold, ghostly glows of blue, green, and purple, flickering through the veil of mist. Sounds reached him: the echo of a hammer striking metal, the murmur of many voices bargaining in languages his mind couldn't comprehend, and the sound of strange, melancholic music, played on a stringed instrument that seemed to weep.
The fog cleared, revealing their destination, and Leo's jaw dropped.
Charon's Night Market was not a constructed place. It was a chaotic and living cluster of floating docks, boats tied to each other with rusty chains, and makeshift platforms made from the wreckage of other worlds, all floating on a dark tributary of the Styx. Lanterns made from souls trapped in glass jars—small globes of pale light where one could see faces screaming silently—cast a sickly light upon the scene.
It was a pirate's cove for the damned and the dangerous. Leo saw a demon with obsidian skin and polished horns negotiating a contract written on human skin with a cunning-eyed devil. On another dock, a translucent ghost sold stolen memories in bottles of smoke, each one showing a different scene: a stolen kiss, a betrayal, a moment of triumph. Goblins with smiles full of sharp teeth sold cursed artifacts that whispered promises into the ears of passersby. A massive iron golem, with runes glowing on its chest, offered its services as a bodyguard, its price written on a sign hanging from its neck: "Muscle for Souls." The air was thick with the smell of incense, sulfur, overheated metal, and above all, desperation and ambition.
Charon docked the gondola at a pier made of intertwined bones that seemed still alive. Persephone rose with a fluid grace, her dress of shadows making not a single sound.
"Welcome to the only truly free place in my kingdom, Leo-kun," she said, her tone becoming a little lighter again, closer to the "Sephie-chan" he knew, a change of mask that was both disarming and terrifying. "The Night Market. Here, everything has a price, and nothing is illegal. It is the perfect place for a renegade like you to start over."
She looked at him, her eyes shining with malice. "Your task is simple. You need two things to survive and fight the Syndicate: information and power. Both can be bought here. But you no longer have your most valuable bargaining chip." She smiled, showing the vial of the Dragon's Tear before making it disappear into a fold of her dress.
"So, what do I do?" Leo asked, feeling completely lost, a castaway on an island of nightmares.
"You improvise," Persephone said, her voice returning to that of a queen. "You are chaotic, remember? This is your natural habitat. Find something to trade. Acquire a weapon or an artifact that can protect you. And discover a secret you can use against the Syndicate." She waved her hand towards the bustling market, a gesture that encompassed all its dangerous beauty and corrupt promise. "I have given you entry. The rest... is your next delivery. Do not fail."
With that, she turned and disappeared into the crowd of monsters and spirits, her regal figure blending into the shadows as if she had always belonged there.
Leo was left alone on the dock, a mortal in a market of nightmares, with the Syndicate looking for him and nothing of value to his name. He looked at his hands. They were empty. He looked at his Karma Points balance. It was high, but he suspected the currency here was much more... personal. He took a deep breath of the foul market air, took an uncertain step off the bone pier, and plunged into the crowd.