A Brief Study on the Afterlife (3)
Those descending to the lower layers for judgment cannot see the suffering souls in the Abyss. They simply press on through pitch-black darkness, their backs turned to the screams of agony they can't endure.
But the Mother of Life told me about what happens to those judged on this layer. They were murderers who harmed others, and when punished here, they receive the memories of their victims—experiencing death from the victim's perspective, position, thoughts, body, and recollections. As many times as the number of people they killed, as many ways as they killed them. Over and over, endlessly slain. Repeated ceaselessly until their sense of self collapses entirely.
After passing through all seven layers like this, the dead arrive at the bottom of the underworld. A colossal gate—so massive even a giant's strength couldn't budge it—makes the soul feel infinitely small and frail.
The gate slowly creaks open as the dead soul stands before it, ending their journey with the reaper. If they'd been accompanied by a child who died young, even that child parts ways here.
Thus, the dead soul stands alone before the judgment of death and advances toward the three overseers who govern the underworld.
Thanatos, the commander directing the reapers who gather souls from the darkness.
Moros, the investigator who checks the ledger of the dead to confirm if they met a proper end.
Ceres, the judge who weighs the soul on scales and measures the weight of its sins to deliver a verdict.
Before them, the dead soul's life is dissected in every detail.
……
"Mother of Life. Then wouldn't sinners resist going down to the lower layers?"
If they knew the underworld's structure before dying and understood the fate of sinful souls, of course they would. But it doesn't matter.
"If they could, that is."
If they could shake off the reaper's grip dragging them downward. If they could escape a reaper who slips through any darkness.
Someone with that level of power could hold out in the upper layers, avoiding suffering and proceeding to their next life without descending. Ordinary souls couldn't even dream of breaking free from a reaper's touch, but one with unyielding will and mental fortitude might manage it.
Well, a soul like that would be hero material anyway. A hero shouldn't cower in the upper layers like a scaredy-cat—they should face judgment head-on!
Not that many can stand tall before death, though.
"No matter how slim the odds—near impossible— if there's even a sliver of possibility, someone might eventually appear. That's why we need overseers for the upper layers."
"Overseers for the upper layers?"
"Exactly. An enforcer to drag down those refusing to descend would clear out the squatters, wouldn't it?"
Of course, we could just amp up the reapers' power to force them. But their strength is plenty as is. Or maybe scale reaper power to the soul's accumulated sins? But that would preempt the underworld's judgment by revealing sins early. No, sins must be unveiled at the very bottom. That's a principle we can't change.
Hmm. Make the upper layers torturous too? No, that would torment innocent souls as well. Tricky. So damn tricky.
Sinful souls versus the sinless. Focus on one, and the other suffers imbalance.
So all I came up with was adding an upper-layer overseer as a stopgap. Hmmm.
"What sort of being is the upper-layer overseer?"
"The position's vacant."
"Vacant…."
No suitable talent for managing the entire upper layers has caught my eye yet. Not that there aren't any candidates.
"We only filled the three underworld slots recently anyway."
"Three underworld overseers?"
"Mm. It was just two before, but the last spot got filled not long ago."
With Thanatos from the shadow spirits and Yama, once the mountain god of North Ridge Mountain, now Ceres—the former black dragon—stepped up to take an underworld role after much deliberation. I wish she'd decided sooner, honestly. But thanks to her, the underworld's triad is complete. Gotta be satisfied with that.
"A new god of death…."
"A goddess of death whose body is half alive, half dead."
Ceres tried harnessing the death aura within her, and it worked—but as a side effect, half her body turned corpse-like. She claims it's just cosmetic, but it doesn't look that way to others.
Anyway, in that state, Ceres made me a proposal.
"I'll become an underworld overseer. In exchange, grant me one request."
"What request?"
"Prepare a place for dragons to reside after death."
Ceres's request was for the dragons. Indeed, dragons who've shed their bodies in death had already reported it sufficient. She wanted a separate afterlife realm for dragon souls.
So I granted that, and while creating paradise—heaven—for those who pass underworld judgment, I added a resting place for deceased dragons to slumber in peace. Only then did Ceres join as an overseer.
If she hadn't asked… maybe dragons would have become spirits after death. Eh, either way works.
Since she'd taken on such a different role from life, I tweaked her name to Ceres. And to ease her duties as a god of death, I crafted scales to weigh souls' sins.
"Thanks to those three underworld overseers, things run smoothly now."
"The three underworld overseers… Are they all gods of death?"
"Mm. They represent death in slightly different ways, but yes."
Ceres—now going by that name—lacks recognition, so calling her a god of death feels iffy. But that's easy to build up.
"What distinguishes them?"
"Yama, or Moros, embodies inevitable death as fated end and post-mortem rest. Ceres signifies destructive demise and judgment of earthly sins."
"And Thanatos?"
"Death as impartial harvester unbound by anything—the king of reapers who reclaims souls."
The countless reapers harvesting souls in perfect order? All thanks to Thanatos's command.
Anyway, this should suffice for a book on underworld lore. It's a bit sparse, but priests can fill in details. Just trust and delegate.
Alright… With the underworld set to run itself, time for a break. Why was making this so exhausting? Oof. Never again. Absolutely not!
Raiklen descended the stairs. At the bottom lay a vast river improbably huge for a cave—its far shore invisible.
He scanned the riverbank for a crossing, ignoring the huddled children, until he spotted a small dock with a tied boat and its ferryman aboard. Raiklen approached.
"Take me across."
The ferryman stared silently, extending a hand. Fare, no doubt. Raiklen pulled a small pouch from his tunic—the wise man of the deep forest had prepared it—and drew out a single silver coin.
The ferryman pocketed it, stood, gripped the oars, and Raiklen boarded the rickety vessel. It pushed off toward the opposite shore.
…
At the dark cave's end sprawled a vast flower field. If the deep forest sage spoke true, lingering here was dangerous.
Raiklen stifled his presence, struggling to conceal his massive muscled frame as he sought the entrance to the lower layer.
"Who are you?"
Predictably, such a body didn't hide easily.
"A soul seeking to linger in the Western Paradise? You seem strong enough to shake off a reaper—abandon this and descend. This place is beautiful, but not for long sta… Hm?"
The beautiful woman holding a few flowers frowned at him.
"You're alive. I won't speak ill—leave before others notice."
Raiklen didn't reply. He merely gripped the club at his waist.
"Coming this far alive means you're here to reclaim someone precious. But reviving the dead defies the natural order. As one who's tried the same, I say: stop and go back."
Her calm words. But Raiklen silently shook his head.
…
Raiklen patched his wounds and descended. He'd passed only two of the seven layers the deep forest sage described, yet his body was ragged.
Still, he didn't give up. To revive his friend, dead by his own mistake, he pressed on.
The next layer was a plain paved with black gravel. Near its entrance stood a man in all black, adorned with a necklace of two emeralds—like he'd been waiting for Raiklen.