Round 37: The Chaos of the River of Souls

Chaos, order.
On the plane map gifted by Victor, the multiverse existed in a structure resembling a wheel or a fruit platter. The outer realms—comprising a series of planes such as Hell, the Abyss, Mount Paradise, and the Wilds—formed its outer ring, with magically charged lines acting as axles to separate different realms. The inner circle of the map contained the Outer Lands, connecting all the outer realms, marked with Gate Cities and other locations somewhat known in the Main Material World. Yet once one traveled there firsthand, it became clear that none of their locations were accurate—except for the city at the very center.
The entire map shimmered with magical light, and most areas could be magnified to reveal the characteristics of various layers. With luck, it could be enlarged many times until it suddenly stopped. The endpoint might be a marker for a portal, whose reliability was equally doubtful.
This might be the route taken by predecessors on their plane journeys. Considering that even more such routes existed in the kinder upper realms, the Lich must have used many extraordinary methods to refine the map to such a degree.
But this was still far from the Great Wheel.
Moriel made a simple gesture, and the plane map floating before her slowly rolled up before slipping quietly into the sorceress’s small sleeve, as if another space existed within it.
Could her journey add a memorable mark to the map? Above the first layer of Cassely’s Exile Abyss, thick clouds drifted over the rotten swamps below, both shrouded in a depressing, dim red glow. Even the most experienced travelers could not tell which of the two was the true sky. Celestial bodies ranging in diameter from hundreds of feet to hundreds of miles moved and rotated in the world of Cassely. Chaos surged from the profound darkness, enveloping Cassely and creating an unimaginably absurd and bizarre landscape, yet it remained balanced under incredible forces, preventing the stars from colliding or drifting apart and disintegrating.
Anywhere—whether in the suffocating prison of Batho Hell or the frenzied Chaos Sea—order and chaos were like two giants constantly battling, neither able to achieve a complete victory. They collided, repelled, and neutralized each other, forming the grand tides that drove the entire multiverse—like a mighty river carrying the ship of the world forward.
Yes, just like the River of Souls.
As the planet Moriel stood on spun, the River of Souls seemed to tilt upward slowly—its icy, dark currents washing over lands and spaces. Even from afar, and despite the River of Souls’s magic having been greatly weakened by Cassely, the sorceress could still sense the despair and oppression it brought. It could easily manipulate people’s thoughts and even souls, causing the waves of the mind to rise and fall with the river’s flow, leaving one lost in an instant, becoming just another tiny part of the River of Souls that dissolved everything.
“It seems our duel is at an impasse, right?”
The succubus came up behind the sorceress, her wings fluttering gently to drive away swarms of mosquitoes, her cheerful tone as usual. “Be careful— the River of Souls is very dangerous.”

“Without entering the tiger’s den, how can one obtain its cubs?” Morriel’s reply stunned the succubus; clearly, even with her ability to understand languages, she had no idea what it meant.
A faint, hidden smile touched Morriel’s lips, but she didn’t lower her guard for a moment. Her Mind’s Eye scanned the waves of the River of Darkness, searching like searching for a needle in a haystack for any hidden opportunities in this vast waterway.
Daguras, Alea, and Gell chose to retreat from the start—yet even so, the swift Phylgas still managed to cut off one of the Teflin’s horns. From then on, they never appeared again, and not even Morriel could detect their whereabouts, as if they had fled in panic, abandoning the game between gods and demons.
It would be nice if that were true—after all, the female mage intended to do just that. But Morriel was convinced that Daguras must be watching her somewhere. In Kasseli, a person’s hatred could grow at an astonishing rate, seeping into every inch of rotten land, every breath of cold air. A torrent of hatred for betrayal surrounded those forced to live there, blurring their senses and leaving only vicious resentment and despair.
There were many portal gates leading to Kasseli, and Morriel found several along the way—but none allowed departure. So she had to think of the River of Darkness, which flowed through entire Kasseli without being bound by any realms.
“Come with me.” Morriel spotted another clue and pulled Kayro up into the air, heading toward another filthy sphere far away that was almost in contact with the River of Darkness. The steel elf followed behind, leaping ahead of them in less than half a minute, entering that planet’s gravitational field as easily as crossing a street.
“Sigh, I’m worried that jumping around like this will eventually get me falling into the River of Darkness,” the succubus complained, spreading her hands.
“Wings! Wings! You should practice using them more!” Pippi chirped mockingly.
After much effort, Morriel finally found what she wanted—maybe.
A gaunt ferry drifted slowly along the River of Darkness. Its bone-white sides cut through the oily black water, and grotesque figures emerged faintly from the thick mist—a sight rarely seen even in nightmares.
“Let me handle this. The ferrymen of the River of Darkness are very cunning and enjoy torturing passengers for fun. You need to be careful when dealing with them,” the succubus warned softly.
“Look what I see! A floating brothel?” The creature perched alone at the bow grinned and let out a vulgar laugh. It had more space on the boat not because it was the strongest, but because nothing else—except for the buzzing mosquitoes—wanted to smell its putrid stench.
“I admire the courtesy of others. Those gentlemen still tolerate you, not kicking you off the boat to let you take a proper bath before climbing back on.” Morriel’s eyes flickered, but her words were as sharp as knives: “Bastard, if you keep priding yourself on that disgusting Kasmo blood in your veins, you’ll probably have to settle for a dung monster as a girlfriend.”

A wave of malicious laughter erupted from the ship, like a heavy punch to the half-demon’s back of the head. The muscles in its legs tensed, its fly-like face twitched, the horns on its nose quivered, and its jaw opened involuntarily as saliva dripped from its black teeth onto the ship.

Morril quickly prepared a spell to ensure that the creature would be flung far away the moment it stepped ashore. She truly had to admire the succubus’s skills at manipulating people—seductive hints filled the air. Even if they actually fought the fly-man, no one else would interfere; on the contrary, they might even cheer for those scaled legs.

“Enough. I said don’t let your saliva dirty my ship,” the boatman said, his words like a cold wind that effectively silenced the noisy passengers. With a pole made of some unknown material, he pushed the wooden boat forward, bringing it closer to Morril and the others.

“You want to board too?” The boatman was wrapped in a gray robe, looking like another pole. Two orange flames flickered in the shadows beneath his filthy hood. “I’m sorry, it’s full. If you don’t mind, I’ll come back for you as soon as I deliver this group to their destination… Of course, that will require a reasonable payment.”

“It will be to your satisfaction, Captain,” the succubus purred. “But we’re in a hurry… Perhaps our payment could be even more reasonable—could you find us a few seats right now?”

The boatman slowly shook his head. “I said it’s full. Your tricks won’t work on me, succubus. Don’t try to trick these guys either. I’ve already been paid and am obligated to take them to their destination. I have to go—otherwise, I fear I’ll soon see a battle of jealousy on my ship.”

“Fergas,” Morril called softly. Sparkling lightning shot from her fingertips, coiling around the half-demon at the bow like chains. The lightning shattered the swarm of insects around it, causing it to leap in pain from the burns. The female mage swung the electric chains like a whip, sending the giant fly-like creature crashing into the River of Darkness, where it was instantly swallowed by the churning black water.

The steel elf also appeared on the ship amid the afterimages of lightning. Her work could be likened to that of a reaper with a scythe—undoubtedly wielded by a hardworking, strong farmer who had just enjoyed a meal of roasted turkey. By the time it was over, not much blood had even stained the deck of the ferry, a testament to her efficiency that was truly terrifying.

It wasn’t until Fergas jumped back onto the shore that the boatman cautiously lowered his claws and ended his defensive stance. Morril stepped forward and waved, as a formal greeting. “I suppose your responsibility to them is done, Captain. Can you take us now?”

The boatman smiled, revealing his yellowed fangs. He kicked aside a severed hand with yellow-green nails, his attitude completely changing. “Of course, ladies. As long as you’re stronger than others, you can leave Kasseli… That’s the truth of this realm.”

On a shallow stretch covered in tangled bushes and moss, Ale turned around, letting out a roar that could only come from a mad beast dancing on red-hot coals. “They’re gone! Dargalas, until when are you going to wait?”
Dargalas gave him a dismissive glance.
“Calm down, Ale. Seth is already finished. We’re no match for them now. Revenge is a wine that grows richer over time—only those with enough patience deserve to taste it. Can’t you see everything is going according to my plan?”
“Damn your plan! They left, and we wait? If you like to follow behind like a dog, that’s your business. I’m going to—”
“Enough!” Dargalas’ pupils constricted, seemingly filling with blood. “Do as your feverish, stupid brain tells you. I decide what needs to be done. If you’re not satisfied, go report me. See if anyone will listen to you? Maybe a hot iron will be applied to your ass—you’ll surely scream in delight.”
She stepped closer to Ale, staring at him viciously, unbothered by the flames erupting on his robe. “Recognize your worth, idiot. Back when she was just a red-robed apprentice, she could have taken your eyes and tongue. Now she’s a grand mage who’s entered the realm of legend, favored by the gods! What do you think are the chances of you succeeding in your revenge compared to her crushing you and spitting you into the River of Darkness?”
“The chance to deal with her will come soon. But you need to learn to seize it instead of ruining it every time.” After a pause, Dargalas’ tone softened slightly. “We’re all in the same boat, and no super-construct will stand up for us. So listen to me—work together, okay? Gell, is the boat here yet?”
The Teflin man covered his forehead, staring angrily at the churning River of Darkness.
“It’s almost here, Miss Dargalas.”
The River of Darkness gradually widened. The stars of Kasseli hung above their heads like a string of dying moons. A damp, cold wind blew from behind, and the river surface occasionally formed white waves adorned with tiny flowers, like veils, which gathered into clusters of foam before bursting apart—adding to the lingering sorrow of the journey. The ferry was unusually smooth, and Moriel could almost hear the faint cries of the waves as they rubbed against the hull—seemingly carried forward not by water currents but by countless wailing souls.
“It’s a fortune to meet a professional like you. My last trip across the River of Darkness was terrible—unbearable to recall.”
The ferryman ignored the succubus’ flattery; in fact, he seemed completely oblivious to her. His withered hands maneuvered the long pole skillfully, propelling the boat far ahead with each push—although Moriel couldn’t see through the River of Darkness, she was sure the depth was far more than just the length of a pole.
I guess this guy planned from the start to let us kill his previous clients. How about putting some pressure on him? That way he won’t waste time figuring out how to trick us… He’s been leading us around for far too long.
A few minutes after receiving the succubus’ telepathic message, Moriel continued to gaze into the distance.

“Where does this door lead?” the female mage suddenly asked as the wooden boat passed through a vast expanse of clouds and mist over the River Styx, which kept changing in the wind yet never dissipated.
“Hm?” The boatman glanced with his yellow eyes. “That doesn’t matter, madam. Besides, I must remind you… just to clear up any misunderstandings: as a Riverbanker, I adhere to professional ethics, and my reputation is far better than Tanar’li’s.”
The succubus turned her back on the boatman, wrinkled her nose, and made a disdainful face.
“If it causes you displeasure, I apologize in advance. But I must point out—that a tendency to pry and want everything under control is a bad habit among most mages,” the boatman continued. “Everyone has their place in the Multiverse, following its own laws. Some of these laws can be understood, but all must be obeyed. Only then can we maximize benefits within controllable risks, and the river will guide us rather than swallow us. Leave professional work to professionals… Why worry about which hoof the horse stepping on first?”
It seems that all creatures from the lower realms—whether lawful, chaotic, or neutral—share one common trait: eloquence.
“You must be a ‘Manager,’ right?” The succubus gave up trying to please the boatman and sneered, resting her chin in her hand.
Conversations can effectively dispel boredom and make time pass, even on the River Styx. The boatman seemed to speed up, perhaps because of the mage who could see through the portal, or the steel elf—who remained motionless and silent, her two eerie, beautiful red eyes fixed on the boatman like Venus wrapped in blades.
It is said that Riverbankers are the only creatures who truly understand the secrets of the River Styx’s countless tributaries, and it seems there’s some truth to that. Before Moriel could even realize it, the wooden boat suddenly crossed the boundaries of dimensions under the red shadow cast by an asteroid.
The vast, misty waters stretched beneath a gray sky. There was no wind, no sun, and even the magic of the enchanted ring became sluggish in this desolate, indifferent grayness.
Moriel frowned and looked into the empty, oppressive distance. Though everything in sight was lifeless gray… there indeed was a boat floating there.
…
PS: 1. Waste.
2. So I’ve been following in the footsteps of the most noble sir, artist, and gentleman, Butlin Cavendish.