Chapitre 113: Doom is funnier than you'd imagine
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{Tartarus, Unknown POV}
Odysseus POV
After we left Nyx's mansion, the silence between Melinoe and me grew heavier with every step. I kept sneaking trying to put conversation forward but she only answered in a sentence or less, she was basically mute. It was a weird contrast to how bubbly she used to be—being the goddess of ghosts you would expect her to be stoic and all—but seeing her now it just felt wrong.
I cleared my throat, hoping to break the silence that was growing heavier by the second. "So, Melinoe," I ventured, "ever thought about opening a ghost station to go with your train? You know, make a concrete spot to pick up your passengers? Could call it 'Boo Central Station' or something."
Cue the tumbleweeds. Or whatever the Tartarus equivalent of tumbleweeds is. Probably something that tries to strangle you while it rolls by.
Melinoe didn't even grace me with her usual eye-roll. She just kept walking, her gaze fixed on some point in the distance, which I supposed was going to be where I would have my match with Kronos. Or maybe she was just really interested in Tartarus's unique geological formations. Who knows?
I sighed, feeling like I was failing some cosmic test of companionship. "Listen," I tried again, my voice softer this time, "I know it's been... rough. The whole Tartarus thing, and then the Nyx thing. I know it's been hard for you, but I really appreciate what you're doing."
Still nothing. Not even a twitch. I was starting to wonder if she'd somehow mastered the art of sleepwalking with her eyes open.
The guilt in my chest tightened like a vice. Here's the thing about being a hero: sometimes you end up feeling like the villain. Sure, Melinoe had tried to kill me not too long ago. But seeing her like this—withdrawn, almost fragile—made me feel like I'd kicked a puppy. A ghost puppy. With serious attitude problems. But still.
I was about to make another valiant attempt at conversation—maybe a knock-knock joke, because those always got a laugh from the guys in Elysium—when a sound cut through the air that made my blood run cold.
Have you ever heard a cat being slowly fed through a paper shredder while simultaneously trying to imitate a dying whale? No? Well, count yourself lucky, because the screech that pierced the air was something like that, only about ten times worse.
I froze mid-step, instinctively summoning my spear into my hand. Turning slowly, I squinted into the dim, distorted landscape of Tartarus. That ungodly screech came again, louder this time, followed by a sound that reminded me of a thousand wet towels being snapped at once.
And then I saw them.
Picture the most terrifying owl you can imagine. Now cross that with a bat that's been working out religiously and has anger management issues. Give it talons the size of daggers and eyes that glow with all the warmth and friendliness of a serial killer's nightlight, with an acompanying red aura that surrounded the entire flock.
"What in Hades..." I muttered, my mind racing through all the monsters I'd ever faced and coming up blank. These things definitely weren't in the 'Greek Monsters 101' handbook.
Before I could come up with a suitably heroic plan (read: run away without looking back), Melinoe grabbed my arm. Her touch was ice-cold, but her eyes were alive with an urgency I hadn't seen since before the whole Tartarus shtick.
"We need to hide," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the approaching screeches.
"Hide? From... those things?" I asked, gesturing vaguely at the nightmare flock heading our way. "I think I can take them, even without the incantation."
Melinoe didn't appreciate my humor. Shocker. Instead, she pointed to a small burrow nearby. I was about to ask why, but the urgency in Melinoe's eyes told me this wasn't the time to be picky about accommodations.
We scrambled into the narrow space, and let me tell you, it was cozy. And by cozy, I mean if either of us had claustrophobia, we'd be having a full-blown panic attack right about now. The stench was indescribable. I honestly didn't want to think about what part of Tartarus we were on right now.
Just as I was about to ask Melinoe what exactly we were hiding from—because, you know, communication is key in any relationship, even if it's with a goddess who recently tried to kill you—I heard it.
Hooves. Thousands of them. It sounded like someone had decided to hold the world's largest tap-dancing competition right above our heads. But mixed in with the clatter was something else—a dull, rhythmic thump that made the ground shake.
Curiosity got the better of me (as usual), and I peeked out of our hidey-hole. What I saw made me wish I'd kept my head firmly buried in the stinky dirt.
A stampede was headed our way. But these weren't your run-of-the-mill cows or even some mythological fire-breathing bulls. No, these were creatures straight out of a fever dream after eating too much ambrosia.
Each beast was the size of a small house, with bodies covered in matted fur that looked like it hadn't seen a brush since the Trojan War. But their most striking feature? Their heads. A skull so massive and heavy that it dragged along the ground as they ran, leaving trails in the dirt like some macabre plow. Their eyes were empty sockets, black as night and twice as scary with a red aura to complete the entire look.
"What... in the gods' names are those?" I whispered, my voice a mix of awe and 'oh gods, we're going to die'.
Melinoe yanked me back into our little sanctuary of stink with surprising strength. "Catoblepas," she said, her voice barely audible over the approaching thunder of hooves. "Don't move. Don't make a sound. And whatever you do... keep your eyes shut."
Now, I've heard some weird instructions in my time as a demigod. "Don't drink too much ambrosia?" or "Be mindful of your pockets when you're in Hermes' cabin". But "keep your eyes shut" while a herd of oversized, ground-dragging skull monsters was about to trample us? That seemed counterintuitive at best.
Still, something in Melinoe's voice told me this wasn't the time to start an argument about monster-avoiding strategies. So, against every instinct I had, I squeezed my eyes shut and prepared for the worst.
The ground began to shake, softly at first, then with increasing violence. It felt like the whole of Tartarus was trying to turn itself inside out. Dirt and pebbles rained down on us, and for a moment, I was sure this was it.
This was how the great Odysseus was going to meet his end—squashed flat in a smelly hole by a herd of creatures with serious neck problems, not the primordial of the Abyss, not Kronos the Crooked one, but a big herd of cows.
The stampede passed over us, each hoof strike sending shockwaves through our little burrow. I held my breath, partly out of fear and partly because, well, have I mentioned how bad it smelled in there?
After what felt like an eternity (and trust me, in Tartarus, that's saying something), the thunderous steps began to fade. The shaking subsided, and the air grew still once more. Well, as still as it ever gets in the pit of eternal damnation.
Slowly, cautiously, we crawled out of our hole. I was about to make some witty comment about our near-death experience—something along the lines of "Well, that was a hoof call"—when I noticed we weren't alone.
Standing before us was a man. At least, I think it was a man. It's hard to be sure in Tartarus. His skin was the color of ash, his hair a sickly yellow that made me think of wilted dandelions. But it was his eyes that really caught my attention.
Where normal eyes should have been, there were just empty sockets with eerie green flames flickering inside them. It was like looking into miniature fireplaces of doom. Oh and did I forget to mention this dude had no aura, yeah he was a god too what were the chances.
The god's mouth curled into what I assume was supposed to be a smile, but on his ashen face, it looked more like a crack forming in dry clay.
"Well, well," he said, his voice dripping with amusement that made my skin crawl, "What were you two doing snuggling in a burrow? How lewd."
I opened my mouth to respond, but for the first time in a long while, I had no idea what to say.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
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