Charon followed a few steps behind Emerius, purposefully staying distant to delay further conversation.
’This asshole thinks he commands me like I’m his servant, like I’m here to do his bidding!’
The way Emerius had pushed his burdens onto Charon, followed by his command to follow, rubbed him the wrong way.
Still, even with his anger, he made sure to stay quiet about it. Everything pointed towards Emerius being related to a wealthy and powerful family, the kind of people who didn’t want to piss off when you had no strength or support of your own.
They wound through the steel hallways, passing more and more people on their journey.
To Charon’s surprise, the vast majority were near his age. The youngest he saw looked to be fourteen, and the oldest eighteen; however, sixteen seemed to be the most common age.
Most seemed to be in good spirits. They ran around talking with friends, laughing and playing as if they weren’t going to be fighting to the death in a month.
’It’s eerie how much religion can influence people...’
His skin crawled, made all the worse when he realized he may have to kill some of these kids himself.
The walk ended shortly after, ending at a door far larger than the others.
Emerius flashed him an expectant look, prompting Charon to withdraw his holo-pad and bring it up to the door. With a chime, the door slid open, revealing a dimly lit room.
Candles were set along the floor in a grid pattern, everywhere but in the middle, where a dark circle was set, no light breaching the outside.
As if crawling out of the shadows, multiple-robed men appeared, vague whispers accompanying them. They extended their arms, all pointing towards the ring as if beckoning him to enter.
Emerius gave him one last look, a small smile on his lips, before stepping away.
"This is where I leave you, good luck, Charon."
Swallowing, Charon nodded at the man before taking a tenuous step inside. The robed men reacted immediately, flitting away from him as he made his way to the center.
’This isn’t creepy at all, not even a bit. This is absolutely the kind of origin story the heroes have.’
As he drew closer, the whispers grew more distinct. He thought he could make out some of the words, but it always slipped through his fingers, as if he wasn’t worthy quite yet.
Stopping just a foot outside the center, he glanced around and saw the robed men were now almost pressed against the wall, their gazes staring right at him.
’Do I want to do this? It doesn’t feel right, something is wrong here.’
Just as he considered turning and running, he felt something call to him. His head snapped to the darkness in front of him, a strange force luring him inside.
Before he could stop himself, he took the next step, vanishing into the abyss.
The ground disappeared beneath him.
He felt himself fall, but no air rushed past him. Instead, something else touched him, running down his skin and suffusing into his body.
His clouded mind barely noticed.
Charon reached the bottom with a slam, pressure hitting his chest, yet no pain or sensation followed. A spider web of cracks appeared in the onyx floor, spreading out further than the crash could have justified, continuing far into the distance.
Looking up with tired eyes, Charon felt like he was moving through molasses. His limbs struggled to respond, held back by some foreign force.
’What... what is going on?’
A deep voice, full of dignity and strength, but also danger, loneliness, and something greater, called out to him from beyond the edge of his vision, taunting him.
"Courage... and legacy..."
The moment he heard it, his body jolted into action, a fear more primal and instinctive than he knew possible taking control as it denied the fundamental truth in front of him.
Charon launched to his feet, his eyes wide and hands shaking. He spun around, scanning every inch of his surroundings but seeing nothing.
Again, the voice called out, this time closer.
"Courage... and legacy..."
Something rushed past him, throwing him back and invading his mind.
An image of the dark mage who had saved him appeared. He was lying on concrete, multiple stab wounds leaking blood from his chest and throat. The cybernetic eye he wore had been plucked out, crushed into fragments on the ground inches from his body.
Ash covered his chest like snow, and burn marks surrounded him.
’The mage! Is he okay?’
Charon willed himself to rush forward and check his vitals, to deny what he already knew, but despite his will, he could not move. Putting more effort into it, he almost cheered when he saw movement, but instead of it being his own, it was the colors fading away into nothing.
As quickly as the image came, it vanished, replaced with another.
An old man Charon recognized as the pharmacist was hanging from a steel beam, his shirt removed to reveal strange symbols carved into his chest. His eyes were open, but glossed over, vacant of life.
Whatever the symbols meant, Charon didn’t know.
This time, instead of trying to move, he looked around, but as he tried to look anywhere other than the body, it all faded.
A third vision came soon after.
This time, he was looking down on a field from above. Corpses covered what used to be a pleasant meadow, which he recognized as the one just outside his village. Craters dotted the landscape, armored bodies lying limply inside them.
Laser burns and magic lacerations dotted almost every corpse, carving clean holes and bloody gashes in equal numbers.
In the distance, hulking suits of metal were strewn across the ground. They were vaguely humanoid with large weapons mounted on them, but holes had been ripped into the chest and heads, leaving them ruined.
Struggling not to vomit, and unsure if he even could, Charon closed his eyes and tried to look away. Surprisingly, he could, opening them to see his home.
Smoke was rising in the distance, a sign of more slaughter to come, a never-ending reminder of the war host’s movements.
Worry filled him as he thought about the other villages and cities on his home planet.
’The Elves are coming for them, I have to warn them!’
Like the others, this vision left him, offering him no time to do anything but bear witness.
Mercifully, no more followed.
Instead, he was back in the abyss, cracks streaking away beneath him. The presence loomed, mocking him as pain bloomed behind Charon’s eyes.
Waiting a second before trying to move again, Charon slowly brought himself to his feet, looking around him with defiance.
"What do you want from me!"
He screamed with all his might, blind to whatever reason could drive someone to play with him .
Sparing no time, it responded with a sadistic chuckle, sending shivers down Charon’s spine.
"Courage... and legacy..."
It repeated the words like a sick poem, but this time it continued, adding more in an equally mocking tone.
"You seek... courage... and legacy... Charon..."
Whipping around with mounting anger, caused both by the voice and growing pain in his head, he screamed out some more, praying for relief.
"What do you care what I want? Let me out of here!"
The presence rushed past him again, sending him flying back but with no new visions. Instead, he simply slammed into the ground once more, still with an impact, yet no new pain or sensation to accompany it.
"I... seek... champions..."
Lying on his back, Charon’s whole body froze as the voice approached him. Although he could not see it, he felt it, stopping inches from his nose.
"Will... you... be... my... champion..."
’Champion? What kind of champion?’
A weight settled on his forehead, beginning to push him deeper into the ground. His limbs felt heavier as he was crushed, his mouth able to open but no words coming out.
Defiance rose in Charon as he tried to grit his teeth and resist the power of the being. As time went on, he felt his head being pushed into the ground harder and harder. It felt like his skull was about to explode, pushed to its breaking point as he screamed out in pain and frustration.
Then the pressure vanished, causing his body to jolt up into the air.
"You... will... be... my... champion...
Without any further words, the presence shot at Charon, going straight for his chest rather than sweeping by him.
Crossing his arms to defend himself, Charon reeled back to avoid the being, utterly failing as it penetrated his skin and settled above his chest.
Like fire was unleashed in his body, he felt an agony unlike anything he had ever experienced before. It traveled from his heart and into his lungs, spreading through his shoulders to his arms, and from his hips into his legs. Then, it traveled upwards, burning through his throat and into his brain.
Just before he lost consciousness, he heard the voice one last time. It radiated through his mind, coming from a place he had only recently learned existed.
’You... shall... command... legacy...’
As he fell to the shattered ground, he noticed one last prick of pain coming from his chest, feeling as if something was being carved into his flesh.
Then he joined the darkness that surrounded him.