Chapter 24 – Death Has Elevator Music
The portal flared with molten light, and we stepped through. For a moment, the world blinked into nothing.
Then came the smell.
Oh gods.
Imagine a gym sock soaked in acid, lit on fire, then buried in swamp mud… and left to ferment. That was the air of the pit beyond Tartarus. My nostrils screamed.
Clarisse gagged. "This place smells like someone murdered a Minotaur with a bean burrito."
The Elder Cyclopes stepped through behind us, completely unbothered by the horrid stench. Brontes sniffed once. "Ah. Tartarus bloom season."
"Remind me to never come here in the winter," I muttered.
We stood at the base of a cliff that bled shadows. The walls of the pit shimmered with thick red veins of molten energy. The ground squelched beneath our feet—like it was breathing, slowly, in reverse.
And ahead, rising from the blackened stone like some forgotten skyscraper built by nightmares…
The Doors of Death.
Framed in Stygian Iron, the twin panels gleamed with obsidian and silver etchings—twisted art deco patterns that pulsed with silent screams. They were massive. Easily thirty feet tall. And chained shut with glowing molten links thicker than tree trunks.
And something worse: the doors were open.
A crack—just enough.
Monsters—dozens—were squeezing through. Drakons, hellhounds, empousai, and some monsters I didn't even have names for. Their eyes glowed with that weird green fire that always screamed "evil plant lady possessed me," and I instantly knew who was behind this.
Gaia.
Clarisse spat. "What is she doing here?"
Brontes frowned. "Gaia has claimed the Doors. Thanatos is gone. His chains are broken."
"She uses the path," Arges muttered, "to send her forces to the surface. It is why the world churns."
I adjusted the unconscious Luke on my back. His head flopped to the side like a particularly useless leather satchel.
I glanced at the escaping monsters.
Then cracked my knuckles.
"Well. Guess it's time to go full anime."
[BERSERKER GAUGE – 85%]
The chain-blades spiraled from my arms like mechanical vipers. I surged forward, and the world blurred.
Clarisse gave a war cry and charged behind me, her spear already sparking with electric vengeance.
The first drakon lunged—and I flash-stepped past it, dragging both chains in an arc behind me. The monster split in half like sliced cake.
Clarisse impaled a hellhound mid-air and rode it down like a lightning-struck surfboard, flipping off as it exploded.
"Too slow!" she yelled at the next monster.
I ducked under a harpy's claws, grabbed its foot, spun it like a discus, and threw it into a group of empousai. They pinwheeled into a molten pit with a collective shriek.
Luke groaned on my back.
The impact had apparently woken him… only for a stray gorgon's acid glob to fly past me and land directly on his pants.
"MMPHHH!!"
"Oh yeah," I said without slowing down. "You're having a rough day, buddy."
We fought like that—Clarisse, me, and the Kyklopes just behind, hurling rocks and thunderbolts—clearing a swath through Gaia's escapees. Each one more frantic than the last, like they knew we were about to seal the doors.
As we reached the base of the Stygian Iron frame, I turned to Clarisse.
"I got a new trick."
"Oh no," she said. "That's never good."
I handed Luke off to Steropes. "Hold my villain."
"MMPH!"
I crouched low. The chains snapped back into my arms with a hiss.
[BERSERKER GAUGE – 99%]
I slammed both fists into the ground.
"CHAOS LASH!"
The chains erupted outward like twin dragons, whirling in a perfect circle, sweeping the base of the Doors and clearing every monster in a fifty-foot radius. They screamed, evaporated, and turned into dust.
Clarisse stared. "That was actually… cool."
"Thanks," I said, panting. "I call it the Beyblade of Doom."
Luke groaned again.
This time, as Steropes held him under one arm like a pizza box, a stray spirit floated down and slapped him across the face.
"MMPHH?!"
Clarisse chuckled. "Even the dead don't like you."
We turned to the Doors.
Still chained.
Brontes moved forward and placed his palm on the iron.
"They are bound on both sides," he said. "If we go through, someone must remain. To hold the door for twelve minutes."
Clarisse froze. "Like… in Tartarus?"
Arges nodded. "If no one holds the elevator, those inside are lost."
I stepped forward. "Then I'll do it."
Clarisse turned. "What? No way."
"You heard them. Someone's gotta stay behind. I've got berserker powers, fire immunity, and a mild disregard for safety instructions."
"You'll die."
"Probably."
She clenched her fists. "Why you?"
I looked at her, then at the unconscious Luke.
And smiled. "Because I'm wearing the bad guy like a backpack, and I refuse to let that story end without at least one dramatic self-sacrifice moment."
The elevator hummed behind the doors.
Brontes and Arges started unlocking the chains with massive bronze keys that shimmered in their palms.
Clarisse stood frozen.
I placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Hey," I said gently. "Tell Dad I did something stupid and mildly heroic, and that he still owes me pizza."
She nodded, lips trembling. "You're the dumbest little brother ever."
"I try."
The doors creaked open, revealing a sleek interior of black obsidian and glowing red runes.
Clarisse, the Kyklopes, and even Luke—still duct-taped, twitching slightly—filed in.
The chains began to move again.
I grabbed the lever inside the door.
The timer began.
Twelve minutes.
I exhaled.
And smiled.
"Let's hope this elevator doesn't have elevator music," I muttered.
Then the doors slid shut.
And the pit was silent.
Almost.
Until something behind me moved.