The river mist hangs thick and heavy, its sticky blackness silently cloaking the underworld.
Suddenly, a distant whistle echoes from above—from the mortal world.
In the next moment, a train wreathed in black flames roars into view. Its steam engine looms proudly above the churning waves, pulling its carriages down into the endless fog below.
The Ferryman of Hell drives the train across the <phonetic="Rift of Chaos">Acheron River</phonetic>, escorting souls adrift between life and death—
From the mortal realm, down to Hell beneath the river.
This is a tale from the eve of the Revolution.
After all these years, it's finally our turn. Ugh, these days you even have to win the lottery just to get into Hell.
This might be the last call for Hell, and once you're there, there's no coming back to the mortal realm. Are you all in on this?
W-what do you mean...? Isn't it just the way things go? You die, you become a demon, you go to Hell, and then you eventually get sent back to the mortal realm, right?
Huh? How could you not know any of this? Did you just kick the bucket completely in the dark?
Ever since the Death Lord got locked up thirty years ago, the Laws of Life and Death have gone completely haywire. You think you can just die peacefully and then waltz right back into the mortal realm? Dream on.
Countless souls are stuck in limbo, forced to wander the mortal realm like the walking dead.
If it weren't for the Hell Ferryman putting his foot down and running this train, sneaking the dead into Hell right under the Supreme Heaven's nose, we'd all be stuck out in the open, suffering under that damn sun! It never sets!
Unfortunately, it's been too long since the Death Lord went down for the count... The Ferryman, who's a Demon Lord himself, is on his last legs. This is probably the absolute last train.
How many "last trains" have you hopped on in your life? At least this time, you've definitely hit the jackpot.
The evil spirit tries to lighten the mood with a lame joke, paying little attention to the face of the "died-in-complete-ignorance" demon hidden beneath the hood across from them.
Oh, I get it now... So, when do I—when do we get there?
Fifteen minutes to midnight.
A small figure, similarly huddled under a hood, shifts slightly while stating the train's arrival time in an emotionless voice.
There's even a kid on this train to Hell? Guess a lot of folks have it tougher than me.
The "died-in-complete-ignorance demon" brushes off the evil spirit, checking her pocket watch before leaning in close to the small figure and whispering:
It's almost time... Shouldn't we get to work?
...
Seeing the child stay perfectly still, her face falters for a second before she tries a more forceful tone, attempting to give orders.
You have to listen to Haida. Go open that door... Now!
The small figure, like a puppet, suddenly lifts an arm from their seat, then wobbly gets to their feet and shuffles slowly toward the middle of the cramped corridor.
Hey, what are you doing? "She" is gonna be counting heads soon. Listen, kid, I'm warning you—be smart and don't make trouble right now.
I hear troublemakers always get tossed into the Valley of Ash. Even for Hell, that place is supposedly the absolute worst...
The dead soul swallows the rest of its sentence—the clang of the iron door swinging open at the end of the car grabs everyone's attention.
The footsteps that follow belong to a being whose name no one dares to even whisper.
Keep talking. Why'd everyone go quiet?
I could hear your voices all the way from the engine room.
Footsteps echo across the black iron floor of the third-class carriage, each step pounding fear and obedience into the air.
Well then, how about we start with you? Speak.
The Ferryman gently rests the tip of the gun on his shoulder, almost tenderly.
The interrogated demon knows Judgment awaits; his whole body shakes uncontrollably with fear.
Fidel Martinez. You were pretty out of it when you boarded. I hope you've come to your senses a bit now?
Sir, no need for that. Just call me Fide. You see, I...
You can only answer "yes" or "no."
The Ferryman stares right into the demon's eyes, her gaze piercing deep into his soul.
Silence hangs heavy in the cramped seating area, while the crashing waves of Acheron and the rumbling engines only make the "passengers'" anxiety worse.
Yes, yes, I'm totally awake now. Ask me anything...
The demon slowly lowers his head and falls silent.
Alright, Martinez. Death in Escondida Quell, cause of death: fatal head injury.
Charges include having unregistered enchanted weapons, counterfeiting Mammon currency, prison escape, and...
The Ferryman's lips curl into a smile, as if she finds something amusing.
Beaten to death with a bottle by an angry waitress? Let me guess—you just couldn't keep your hands to yourself, could you?
Misunderstanding. It was all a misunderstanding.
If it really was a misunderstanding, would you be sitting in this train car right now?
As she moves the lance tip off the demon's shoulder, she casually waves her hand and delivers her Judgment without much fuss.
Transport to the Valley of Ash. Take him away.
Your Honor! I'm innocent!
Next.
Mike Draven...
The Ferryman completely tunes out the dead soul's excuses and steps forward to the next row of shivering passengers.
Tried to stop a shooting... accidentally got shot?
As she silently recites the death information in her mind, she finally notices a small figure standing quietly in the corridor.
Sovereign... You...
She hears a familiar voice coming from beneath the hood, prompting her to immediately call out the figure's title.
Chaos Gate Emissary? What are you doing here?
Why aren't you guarding the Valley of Ash like you're supposed to? What are you doing running around here? Has something happened at the Valley?
She quickly walks toward the Emissary, sensing something isn't right.
But just as she passes by the cowering demon—
...Oh?
Her body continues moving forward, but her eyes freeze, then swiftly turn to lock onto the disguised demon.
Looks like a dead fish has slipped in among us? Haida?
Her shadow-like claws appear instantly before the demon, violently tearing away the disguise.
Eek!
The demon, her soul laid bare by that piercing gaze, jolts from her seat in panic. She barely dodges the attack while frantically issuing commands to the Chaos Gate Emissary under her control.
Now!
The small figure snaps to it, immediately pulling open the sleeves covering its front. There, cradled in its arms, is an ugly egg.
Its surface is anything but smooth, covered instead with irregular, vein-like bumps.
These pulsate rhythmically, a crimson liquid coursing through them, looking just like the waters of the Acheron River.
Emissary! Stay with me!
The girl forces out a few painful groans.
Forgive me, I...
Those vein-like tendrils coil around the girl's limbs, their ends disappearing right beneath her skin.
I-it's too late now! Save the teary reunion for later, just do it!
The girl raises both arms in response, her metal claws gleaming eerily under the rust-colored, mottled light.
She viciously slashes at the air before her, ripping open a rift in the veil of Hell itself.
The arcane gate forms instantly. From its quiet darkness wafts a stench that only belongs in the Sanctuary.
Everyone, fall back!
The Ferryman senses something's off, as piercing howls indeed draw closer from beyond the windows on both sides—these are the wails of ill omen.
Angels! They're coming for us!
That infiltrator is a nightmare! They've got something from the Sanctuary—I just knew it! My luck's always been rotten, so why would I expect a smooth trip to Hell?
The angels rip at the carriage, their shrieks enough to curdle blood even in Hell. Inside, pandemonium breaks loose.
The red-haired Ferryman springs into action, her Dual-Bladed Lance flashing as she skewers the fleeing culprit.
Ow, ow, ow! You're still so brutal! Couldn't you at least say Hello to an old colleague before you stab them?
After all these years, I thought you might have matured a little! Instead, you just had to sneak onto my train and hand me this massive headache!
A fish tail thrashes painfully on the floor, its owner wailing nonstop.
Explain yourself! Why did you control the Emissary? Why did you snatch something from the Sanctuary and bring the angels down on us?!
Because I wanted to... I wanted to—
Witch Haida stumbles over her words, unable to form a coherent thought.
I made a deal, and I can't spill all the beans just yet. Anyway, I used the Gate Emissary's arcane gate to sneak into the Sanctuary—it wasn't a walk in the park—and I swiped the Omega Egg. That thing might be used for reconstruction...
A nameless dread creeps into the Ferryman's chest. She can't shake the feeling this might be the very creation she's always feared.
The Omega Egg
According to ancient scrolls from the Scorched Borderland, the world's Oblivion will hatch from an egg.
We're talking about howling winds and the death of all living things. This terrifying weapon, held by the Sanctuary, wields such supreme power that it exists only in legends.
Regardless, it absolutely shouldn't be here, now, on a train bound for Hell.
And it definitely shouldn't be latched onto the Witch's hostage like a parasite.
You cut a deal with the Sanctuary? Did you just throw everything Atlantis taught you to the fishes?!
The Ferryman snarls, grabbing Witch Haida by the throat. Tears well up in the Witch's eyes as she struggles.
What do you even know... You're nothing but a thieving plunderer! You have no idea how much I cherish what I once had!
Childish! I don't have time to play make-believe with you right now!
Meanwhile, unnameable entities, known only as Angels, swarm the train car.
Was this train journey part of your deal with the Sanctuary?
...
Witch Haida gasps in terror, not daring to confirm the accusation.
Think carefully. If they want this train, they'll have to step over my dead body first.
We're both Demon Lords—we can never truly kill each other. You've really made a foolish choice this time.
Angels from the white mist pound against the windows. Vera grinds her teeth, tightening her grip on the fragile neck in her palm before abruptly shoving Lamia to the floor.
She whips out her Dual-Bladed Lance once more and stands tall in the corridor—rock solid and unyielding, she becomes the only sure thing amidst the train car's chaos.
Witch Haida, once I'm done with those Sanctuary creeps, I'm perfectly willing to spend the next century duking it out with you.
D-duke it out? You can't swing that! I-I'm not scared of you anymore!
With the laws of life and death shattered and the Death Lord locked up, your demonic powers must have pretty much fizzled out by now... Eeyah!
The master of the train offers no comeback—instead, her weapon flashes up and down in one smooth move, turning the first Angel to bust into the car into nothing but a puddle of foul-smelling goo on the floor.
She holsters her gun and turns away, giving Witch Haida a sidelong glance as Haida tries desperately to steel her nerves.
Go on. Bring it.
No matter how badly you've messed with the Sanctuary, the Acheron River isn't your playground. I'm not Lustrous—there's no one left who's going to put up with your lawlessness anymore...
The Ferryman speaks Witch Haida's true name, sending shivers down her spine—just like it has for ages.
...
For a moment, an old childhood habit almost makes her blurt out an apology, but her mission's purpose completely takes over, stopping the words before they can even escape her trembling lips.
I'll apologize next time—if there even is a next time.
I've already... paid my dues!
While the Ferryman is busy fighting the Angels, the mermaid quickly ducks behind the girl with metallic wolf claws and pulls her into her cloak's folds.
I-I'm done with you!
In a flash, the mermaid springs up and dives through the open window.
She vanishes into thin air beyond the window, taking the child-like demon figure with her.
The demons sitting on both sides see the whole thing go down, but not a single one dares to make a peep.
The Ferryman's expression shifts, a mix of shadow and light, completely unreadable.
...Next time? Ha! You still don't get what happens when you cross the Sanctuary.
What are you all staring at? Full train alert, brace for battle! Unless you want angels grinding your bones to dust, fight with everything you've got!
Train guards, on my command! Move to the third-class carriage, secure the targ—tch!
She's just barking orders to the driver's cabin several carriages away when a sudden jolt of weightlessness throws the train off balance.
We're toast! We're going to plunge right into the Acheron River!
No, please! I was supposed to serve my time in Hell! If we fall in and turn into stones in the Acheron River, we'll never find peace!
Or even worse... getting sent back to the mortal realm, forced to go on with that miserable life that's worse than death!
Snap out of it! You've already kicked the bucket successfully! You're just one step away from being completely dead—you can't quit now! Get up and fight back!
I can't—Glug, glug—!
The screaming demon's soul gets pierced clean through, vanishing into thin air in an instant.
Witnessing such a gruesome end, the deceased souls fall into a complete panic.
Train crew, what's the situation?!
My lady, the steam engine's magic is gone! We can't get control back!
Desperate, throat-shredding wails erupt from the control cabin.
Angels, it's angels... They've boarded the train! They're everywhere!
Stay seated and keep heading for Hell! Anyone who tries to escape... I'll throw you into the river myself.
Her words still carry the same strong authority.
Sanctuary, will... Execute!
Through the opening where the mermaid disappeared, terrifying white humanoid figures pour into the carriage, one after another. They move so fast that the souls by the windows are devoured before they can even let out a final scream.
Filthy Sanctuary vermin! You won't defile my carriage!
The slaughter begins. Demons fight desperately against the angels surrounding them, watching a dazzling crimson blur zip through the carriage corridor.
The spear tip pierces through the angels' chests, and thick, slimy sludge splatters across the dark crimson shaft.
Butcher them! Kill! Kill!
You think you can stop me?!
Her Dual-Bladed Lance speaks the language of death, turning the monsters from the Sanctuary into puddles of water stripped of their divinity.
But more ghastly limbs covered in white scabs frantically pour through the windows, as if desperate to board a train that doesn't belong to them.
They're c-coming again! Help m—
Terrified souls cry out to anyone nearby for help, only to find few companions left—some ripped apart, others already tossed out the windows by the invaders.
The angel's throat gurgles as it closes in on the nearest demon.
No! Please!
Step back!
The Ferryman suddenly materializes right in front of the terrified demon, forcefully shutting down its attack.
Nngh...!
A jagged, skeletal hand rips off a small piece of Vera's skin, gobbling it up before being sliced to ribbons moments later.
You want to feast on my flesh and blood? Let's see if you've got enough life to pay the price for it!
She touches the bright red wound on her forearm, tearing through angel after angel as they lunge at her, savoring the exhilarating rush of pushing herself to the limit in battle.
But deep down, she knows—it's almost over.
Her fingers tremble as strength drains away uncontrollably from her body.
The power bestowed upon her by <phonetic=Death Lord> Nyarlathotep</phonetic> vanished years ago during that fateful Judgment. Her endurance until now has been nothing but sheer willpower.
In her increasingly blurred vision, the ghastly white of the Sanctuary gradually swallows up the sea of crimson and black.
Haha, at the end of your rope and in such a pathetic state.
She recalls the controlled Chaos Gate Emissary, remembering how alien eggs covered every inch of her body.
I can't even protect my own anymore, baited like a fool to risk my neck for nothing.
If only I had known... I should've just left with Lustrous back then.
Made it to the third-class carriage!
My lady! I see you!
Arghhhh—
The angel's fangs slice the first guard clean in half at the waist, right as he's fought his way from the driver's cabin to the carriage. His dying scream echoes off the carriage walls.
!!
The metallic scent of blood and those echoing screams are the last things The Ferryman registers as she watches her subordinates vanish one by one without a trace.
Hah...
Looks like I'm still forced to make this kind of choice in the end.
She lets out a deep breath, then raises her hand to twist the coupling between the carriages.
My lady! This train was built by the First Demon Lord himself...
...Don't push any further. Fall back. We can't afford to lose everyone here.
My lady!
HAAAARGH—!!!
The hardened steel slowly warps under the force of her hands, as black flames continuously erupt from her body, melting right through the train—a true marvel, even in Hell itself.
A tide of withered bones and fangs surges toward the gaps in The Ferryman's defenses, tearing at her flesh while she's focused on melting through the train.
She keeps forcefully summoning Hell's flames, gradually realizing her magical power is permanently abandoning her.
Blade... Beh—Gahk!
Clang.
She can no longer grip her Dual-Bladed Lance; it clatters to the ground, abandoning its master.
At that very moment, her efforts finally split the train in two. She staggers back, tumbling into the tide of angels.
She watches as her guards, who've been in the trenches with her for years, plummet toward the other side, heading straight for the Valley of Ash.
All remaining forces need to pull back to the Valley of Ash and link up with General Cerberus. At the very least, we have to hold Atlantis. I have a hunch that Witch Haida will keep stirring up trouble there.
No—no! My lady! Everyone, hang on tight! The train's going down—Ugh! I'm heading to the front!
But "The Ferryman," the last Demon Lord still loyal to Hell, can no longer hear her subordinate's cries.
She plunged into the mist-shrouded <phonetic="Rift of Chaos">Acheron River</phonetic>, taking the severed train car and a sea of angels with her.
A tremendous crash echoes across the water's surface, bringing this dishonorable ambush to an end.
Hell's "Ferryman" vanishes into the Acheron River.
With the last demon fighting to preserve her dignity gone, the death knell of the Age of Law rings out, marking its final end.
While <phonetic=Death Lord>Nyarlathotep</phonetic> remains locked away in the Hall of a Thousand Demons, years later, the defiant "Ferryman" also falls victim to an ambush, crashing her train into the Acheron River...
You... how dare you utter the Death Lord's name so directly?
That's beside the point. Let's talk about this—I'm curious. "The Ferryman" should be nothing but a silent stone at the bottom of the Acheron River, so why do I sense her presence in the mortal realm?
Was it you, Lamia? You really are a master of these underhanded schemes.
She keeps her smile as she boldly speaks the true name of the demon in front of her.
...
You wanted to swipe Vera's train to make a deal with the Sanctuary, yet you couldn't stand to let her vanish into the Acheron River. So, you secretly saved her and sent her off to the mortal realm... Honestly, you've been pretty greedy.
I-I have my reasons for what I did...
Don't worry, I'm not judging you. I have no right to tell you how to handle "The Ferryman." You can afford to be even greedier. As Hell stands now, nothing can stand against you—you're the top Demon Lord.
The victor enjoys the spoils, and you've won. The Sanctuary got half the train, so I guess you've held up your end of the bargain, however grudgingly.
Now, go collect your rewards, Witch Haida. The Atlantis you wanted and the Omega Egg—they're all yours.
Atlantis is already mine—it's where I was born! It has always been... the rightful domain of Witch Haida!
I'll never let it be stolen from me again.
Deep within the Valley of Ash lies the Demon Fortress, a place where all of Hell's secrets are buried.
It's the stronghold Nyarlathotep bestowed upon generations of Ferrymen, the abyss most feared by all demons.
Demon Fortress, Atlantis.
30 years after the Cataclysm, 1st day of the Starfire Month, <phonetic="Eternal Day">evening</phonetic>.
With an entrenching shovel, you rest on the barren riverbank, tilting your head back to wipe away the sweat pouring down your forehead.
Though it's evening, the scorching sun still hangs high in the sky, with the horizon bleached a ghastly white as heat waves roll across the land.
You still has nothing to show for your efforts.
No doubt about it, no worries!
The raven cranes its neck and fans out its feathers, panting in the heat as it speaks, trying to catch a breeze.
Yeah, I might have a raven's beak of doom, but can't you just trust me to get the job done?
Have you ever heard the tale of the Black Gold Miners?
Those prospectors, so many of them dug their hearts out, only to come up with nothing in the end.
They just threw in the towel and chalked it up to bad luck. But then someone else comes along and keeps digging in that very same mine shaft—
Hey, guess what?
A-anyway, my point is, your very next shovel full is sure to turn up something good!
You straighten up, clearly done arguing with the chatty raven, and get ready to take off, just like the miners in the "Black Gold Miners" story.
—But suddenly you trip over something underfoot.
Looking back, you spot a small piece of metal sticking out from the dusty gravel right beneath the rock where you were sitting.
You shove your shovel into the ground, sending dust and dirt flying.
Slowly, a metal object peeks through—a seriously rusty, old-school lighter. Ever since the sun decided to stay out forever, nobody's had a use for these things, so they just got tossed aside.
But even with all the crud, you can tell there's a cold glint to it, something the years haven't dulled. It's got a sharpness that feels out of place, like it's from beyond the Scorched Borderland.
Then, you trace your fingers over an engraving on the lighter—a unique mark.
Ha! I knew it! I wasn't wrong!
This has got to be...
Click.
You press down on the lighter, but all that comes out is the sound of sand grinding in the metal bits.
Think it'll still light?
You plop back down on the rock, lean in, cup your hand against the wind, and try again and again to spark it in the rock's sheltered nooks.
Click, click.
After a few more sharp clicks, a tiny flame finally flickers to life from the opening.
It's a bit faint compared to today's blazing sun, but it holds on, burning slow and steady in your palm.
The plunge into the Acheron River still feels as fresh as ever, an endless, nightmarish freefall, like being stuck in a recurring dream of life behind bars.
Betrayal
The guards' screams, angels feasting... all these echoes of memory detonate in her ears, but they can't rouse this soul anymore.
Strife
Until...
Something barely grazes her skin, a faint burning sensation.
Suffering
But that long-forgotten sting of pain instantly jolts a soul that had withered, died, even gone stiff with decay, back to life.
Death
The demon blood in her veins surges, firing up instincts that had been frozen in time.
She's immortal, undying—fully aware that eternal life is a never-ending torment. Yet, she savors it, like a delicious treat.
She knows the days of chasing pain are back.
Hm...
She cracks open her eyes, wincing at the blinding sunlight. Luckily, a backlit figure casts just the right shadow, giving her some much-needed cover.
How long was I out?
This blasted sunlight... I must be back in the mortal realm. Look at the mess that stupid fish made.
Cut to the chase. What do you want?
Tch, why don't you grab a shovel, draw some blood, and take a look in a mirror?
A human, making such brazen claims? Or maybe the most merciful Cardinal Deity has been reborn to do some good deeds?
Don't you dare breathe the word "Sanctuary" in front of me again.
Waging war against the Sanctuary... Interesting. I do have some old scores to settle with them.
The former Demon Lord, the Ferryman, casually adjusted her cascade of fiery red hair and let out a soft laugh.
Thanks for going to the trouble of digging me out. I'm willing to cooperate with you... for now.
But I have to warn you—hell isn't some place you can just stroll into and out of whenever you please.
This dump of a mortal world is just a gentle breeze compared to what's waiting down below.
Someone who talks like that... you've really got a death wish, don't you?
Show me what you've got, human.
The red-haired sufferer looks up and grasps your hand.
Come!
Gray Raven.
You slowly lower your arms toward the freshly dug, nameless grave by the riverbank, then violently plunge the entrenching tool into her collarbone.
The sound of shattering crystal rings out, tearing her chest cavity to pieces. Yet, she welcomes this pain as fierce crimson energy surges once more through every receptor in her body.
Time reclaims the forgotten one, pulling her back into the frenzy and clamor of the Age of Cataclysm.
She grips her Dual-Bladed Lance tightly, using it as leverage to slowly rise, lifting the war-forged frame of a knight.
Wherever I stand... that's Hell itself.
How long do we have to wait to wash away the stains of bloody injustice?
Laws crumble, the red sun decays into blackness, and lost souls drift among the living.
The Sanctuary, drunk on its own power, commands the heavens to hold back rain and turns water to blood, ruthlessly unleashing disasters to tear the world apart.
But death's wrath is now at hand, and those who honor her name will finally find their peace.
The Acheron shall flow once more
The umbral flames shall devour those who twist life and death
