Chapter 1

It seemed like all of Yutir's dreams were doomed to fail.

Damn.

Multiple people were coming, and he was cornered, with nowhere left to run.

Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn.

Twenty more seconds.

A woman's voice echoed from across the room, a voice he knew all too well. 

Iris Katil. 

He knew she would be here, he had known she was following him for days. And if there was one thing he knew of her personality, it's that, when her fangs got a hold of you, she would never let go. Like a snake, slowly poisoning its prey, the venom slowly going up your veins, if it didn't kill you instantly you would be dead soon after. One thought ricocheted through his mind, like a bullet. A good metaphor for the situation, especially as she cocked her gun, the ping reverberating off the walls as the bullet fell, he didn’t want to know where that shot had gone. Likely somewhere unsavory.

This ends now. I finally have a chance to kill her.

Suddenly, twenty seconds didn't seem like enough time. 

Her voice was calm, "Yutir Ivanov, we both know how this ends, so get out here and I'll kill you quickly. We both know you could never win, I always defeated you in training."

As vicious as ever. Not entirely wrong. But not entirely right either.

He had learned a thing or two since his last confrontation with her.

He shouted back, "That may be so, Iris, but we all know, I beat you in other ways." 

She had been lithe, a master of combat, but he had frequently outmaneuvered her. He had conquered her in other ways, most notably, her heart at one moment in time. 

He was hiding behind a pillar in a large sandstone-made room. Its many, shining, stained glass windows glisten in the midday sun. They were works of art and he knew it. 

15 more seconds.

"I'll finally get to end you, I've been craving the sound of your spine breaking for too long." He Continued.

"Always had a way with words, didn't ya Yutir? If only you'd have applied that where it counts. We wouldn't be in this situation now

"Rough, coming from a mercenary."

"A mercenary hellbent on ending the largest mistake she ever made."

He smiled at that, It was nice to think he had caused her as much pain as she had caused him all these years.

He could hear running footsteps. Approaching. Fast. He had a leg up though, she didn't know where he was, he was concealed and had more hidden tricks (dirty tricks) up his sleeve than he could count.  

As the footsteps rounded the corner he dove out expertly aiming a mirror built into his arm bracer to blind her, then quickly he relieved her of the gun. Which clattered to the floor several yards away. Unloading a bullet into the wall. 

BANG.

8 more seconds.

Spinning around, he saw her. Dark hair, and dark skin, the woman had the face of a viper and instincts along with it. Almost inhuman instincts. He had become very familiar with her fighting style throughout their past. They had been together for far too long. 

Due to Yutir's unremarkable appearance, many people seemed to pass him off as an ordinary person, he was anything but. His ordinary appearance had in part led to his success.

The sharpest knife is the one least expected.

However she had seen him rid her of her weapon, she knew what he was capable of, and the two had been very close all those years ago. 

She dove for his legs executing an expert leg sweep, if he had been bare seconds slower she would have knocked him to the floor, unbalanced and prone. But he had seen this move executed too many times in their training.

5 more seconds.

He dove forward trying to knock her off balance. When abruptly, a loud noise, like the pop you hear when struck by lightning hitting a person sounds. All windows shattered, sending glass and shrapnel in every direction. Moments later he found himself on the ground. Iris nearby, unconscious. 

Ah, there they are. I knew the CIA was on his tail. 

He was dazed, his ears ringing. He could barely glance over at her. His head was pounding.

She's going to get up before me.

He tried reaching for the disarmed gun, which miraculously,  had landed near him, he knew it would be too late, however.

She stepped on the gun, and his hand, her smile would have sent chills down any other person's spine. She dove forward with a knife, tensing up in a way he knew. It's how she had executed animals, slicing their throats, giving them no time to feel any pain. 

Sent to the Underworld, the normal way, how unfortunate.

That was all he could think.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

3 seconds

Instinctually, he held up his forearm. She quickly reacted, not by changing where she sliced but by ramming the knife down, as deep as possible. The knife emitted a sick thump as it slid into his skin driving nearly to his eye, protruding straight through his arm. He let out a gasp of pain, one he was sure would be his last.

One second.

Was he going to make it?

Beep.

What happens now?

An electric shock pulverized his body. Lightning curved along the walls. Lifting his arms up, electricity sparked through them. He momentarily forgot the kitchen-knife-sized hole in his arm, completely absorbed in the novelty of blue light. Glancing around, the world seemed to deconstruct itself before his very eyes, falling away like stray paper in the wind.

"Too close, too damn close." That was all he was able to mutter before everything dissipated to darkness. Even by his standards that was too close to death.

"Yutir." A voice echoed out, another voice he didn't want to hear again. "Yutir." It said again, incessantly. He opened his eyes, he was here again.

Why? Why must this day get any worse?

The room was pure white, in every direction, and could have gone on for miles. Standing in front of him was the being, the god, the thing. He had never known what to call it. For every time he stared directly at it, it was almost as if clear film covered his eyes, blinding him momentarily. 

He had taken to calling it Blind, for obvious reasons. 

"What is it this time?" He growled, lowly. 

The thing had contacted him for the past year, at random intervals, telling him of the most mundane things, whether it was the bird he saw or the meal he had. He hadn't known how to take it at first. He honestly still didn't. But he had grown used to the momentary translocation from his body. Like he had been squeezed slowly before being released.

"I only wanted to congratulate you!"

What?

This wasn't normal, he actually sounded sincere. 

"For making it to the Underworld of course! We all knew you could do it. Me and my compatriots that is. Make us proud down there, and don't screw it up."

How does he know? 

"How do you know about our plan? Are you with the professor? What els-"

Blind interrupted him, "I know many things, some more concealed than others, but I've taken a special interest in knowing you, for you're the only one that has a chance of getting this done. You're special Yutir, in more ways than you know, for Fate has smiled on you today. "

Suddenly Blind started crackling he looked like a T.V. program that had gone silent. Only leaving those millions of tiny dots, the ones people said would blind you if you stared at them too long. Yutir had never liked watching them, they hurt his eyes. 

"It seems I can't talk more, Yutir. This is goodbye."

"Wait!" He yelled. Momentarily losing his composure. "I still have more questions!" But Blind was gone, and he could tell he would be gone soon as well. 

Colors swirled about below his eyelids, not letting him rest in peace. He was most at peace while dreaming. One question rattled through the depths of his mind drifting endlessly in the void. 

Did I make it? 

He came to, his eyes trying to grapple with the eerie, condescending appearance of his surroundings. The fear, an uncommon feeling in Yutir slowly dissipated. The soothing tones of flowing water encapsulated his ears. No person survived in Yutir’s line of work if they were constantly scared. 

Is that… running water?

His eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom around him. He was on the bank of a river, the lower half of his body submerged in clear, gray water. White translucent robes, damp and chilling, adorned his body. Wincing, a thundering pain splintered through his forehead. He pushed himself up the bank, finding the water to be uncomfortably cold.

Raising his arm, he expected to find a deep wound but to his surprise. Nothing. He finally let out his breath, realizing he had been holding it for who knows how long.

There were few things he feared but death was one of them.

How ironic.

He had ended up in the Underworld, of his own free will. He chuckled to himself. To any other person, he probably sounded like a lunatic. But he had just become like one of those ancient Greek myths, like Orpheus or Odysseus he had made it to the Underworld, and had all intentions of leaving alive. In fact, if he succeeded he would never have to worry about death again.

Climbing forward, his hands gripped a curled, rocky stone, the ever-present smell of minerals dousing his nostrils. With great effort, he pulled himself upwards, his feet finding ground and standing atop the steep shoreline, overlooking the long, gray stream. His gaze lazily drifts towards the waters, his eyes glancing over the ghastly white silhouettes of bodies as they calmingly drifted down the mesmerizing waters. Deathly pale and wearing the exact robes that adorned his body. This would have been frightening to a normal person, but Yutir was no ordinary person; he was calm, collected, his mind sharp and his body strong.

I've made it at last.

He strode to the edge of the bank and realized suddenly, that the river itself was more of a bridge floating in the infinite void, its inky, tar pitch blackness clawing at him, inviting him to come in.

Interesting.

Downriver, he could see the barest glimpse of light.

The Admissions Office. My destination. My entrance. 

He could still hear the instructions he had been given from the "Professor." "First go to the Admissions offices, it's the only way to get fully into the Underworld. It's where you'll be interviewed to gain admission, much like a job interview. The Underworld is honestly eerily similar to the corporate structure of large companies in the realm of the living." He remembered asking "What happens if they don't accept you?" "Only the god of death knows that." 

His first hurdle. He began to walk towards the light. 

A curious spotlight danced across his vision, the circular beam of illumination passing along the ground into the water. As his eyes followed upwards, following the reflection of the gleam, he saw a massive creature perched on an overhanging cliff, oddly resembling a small child dangling their legs over a dock. Its multiple appendages were spindly and reaching, its body skinny. Its head blossomed out to an engorged bulb, shining luminescent in the dim haze. As its thick head swiveled left and right, the "spotlight" followed.

He glanced back at the grisly creature. He had never been a patient person and had always been particularly fearless. Unless it was imminent death, no matter what, it always seemed like flight or fight kicked in. Some things could never be changed, and the human body was normally one of them.  

Staring into the flow of bodies he looked into their eyes, glaring for any kind of life as if his unrepenting gaze could bring back the dead. He could not. But one thing he had been taught was that any skill could be learned in time.

"Just another challenge, I think I can live with that." He said almost like he was reassuring himself. He rejoined the procession of bodies floating down the river. Their eerie expressions stared up at him. It almost seemed, like they were mouthing, murderer, murderer. He looked away quickly. 

He looked about, his eyes had completely adjusted to the darkness, but it was still hard to see. The "watchers" prowled the overhanging cliffs. Searching for signs of discrepancies. The river was uncomfortably wet and his clothes had long ago been completely dampened. Time seemed to pass differently, he didn't know if he had been in that stream for minutes or hours. It all seemed to blur, the feeling wasn't half bad.

He continued calmly following the flow of bodies, it was obvious they were going deeper towards the light, exactly as he wanted. "Take me to the deepest pit you have." He whispered to the night. It always seemed better to voice a person's thoughts, it gives them meaning.

His hair suddenly stood up, his heightened senses picking up a trickle of movement behind him, the faintest splashing. He was being followed.

Damn it, of course she had made it in. 

Well, in all sorts of myths the Underworld hosts a variety of torture, games, and treachery. But many mortals had gone in and come out alive. Was he as strong as Odysseus? As willing to survive as Orpheus? He hoped so. Because his road was as fraught with peril as any Greek myth.