Charon sat alone in the hospital bed, one hand holding his throat and another cradling his stomach.
His breathing was labored, coming in short bursts.
Evander had left, leaving Charon with his thoughts after having him recount everything he could about the so-called soul sect.
Charon smirked as he leaned back into the pillow.
'He never caught it for the lie it was. I really outdid myself today.'
Although he hadn't expected such a visceral reaction, he was incredibly happy he had chosen to mention it when he did, even with the pain he endured.
'If I had decided to risk telling someone, I could've been killed. At least this way I'm in the clear for now, so long as the secret never gets out.'
Even in his wildest dreams, he couldn't have anticipated the level of anger Evander showed to the soul aspect.
'It was like he exploded, his magic unleashed on everything around him. I wonder how he managed to do that?'
The idea of one day being able to impact his environment just because he got angry was intoxicating.
'He isn't even the strongest person in the Church of Death! I wonder what the strongest one of them can do? Cause a whole planet to shake?'
With everything he had seen the past few days, the sky was the limit.
He coughed, the action slightly painful from the attack he had sustained.
'Damn that priest! Why are clergy always hurting me? Should I file for a restraining order?'
He didn't know if that was a thing, but he'd be damned if he didn't try!
His mind naturally drifted as he lacked something to focus on, honing in on the important things he had learned today.
'So, I'm going to Creed as a lieutenant, which is on another planet, and I'll be fighting elves. Trials are also rare, especially for the God of Death, and allow you to earn powerful abilities and other rewards. These trials drag your soul to another planet in the universe, where you are forced to complete them in some way or another, and impact a whole other society?'
He scoffed, shaking his head.
'This week has been something else…'
—
Charon woke to the sound of the nurse entering his room carrying a tray of food.
"Good morning Mr. Charon, you will be discharged soon. Eat up, you'll need your energy."
He nodded his thanks before consuming everything placed in front of him, saving not even a single drop of soup or bite of bread for later.
'The army isn't known for having the best food, I should enjoy this stuff while I can! Who knows what slop they will feed me there?'
It didn't take long for him to inhale everything, leaving only an empty bowl and used utensils. The glass of water he was given was dry, the contents used to wash down everything else.
Grinning at his accomplishment, he pushed a button on the side of his bed, summoning the nurse to remove the IV in his arm.
She arrived in record time, turning off a number of machines before unhooking him completely. Then, holding his arm so he didn't fall, she helped him rise to his feet. Showing him where his clothes were, she wished him luck and gave him some privacy, reminding him to check in with the front desk.
Thanking her for everything she had done, he quickly changed out of his gown and into something more presentable.
Charon put on blue pants, a simple T-shirt, and some gray shoes. They weren't expensive, but they got the job done.
'Finally, normal clothes! No armor, no gowns, no medieval tunics! Exactly how the gods intended mankind to dress!'
Grinning at being back how he liked, he left the room without looking back. Everything he owned was on his body, giving him no reason to double-check.
A long hallway greeted him, lined with more of those fluorescent lights. A green strip marked the floor, with arrows occasionally dotted along it, pointing towards the exit.
'Well, that makes it easy.'
Turning a few corners, he found himself in an open sitting room with a long desk on one side, and a few women sitting at different windows.
He approached the closest one, offered his name, and waited while they printed out a card.
Handing it to him, he was told to wait an hour downstairs for the military convoy to arrive and collect him.
Doing as he was told, he exited the waiting room and took the stairs down, entering the parking garage
Sitting down along one of the concrete walls, he closed his eyes and waited, resting himself for the day to come.
'I'll probably regret not doing more before I'm forced into combat, but with the week I'm having, future me can suck it.'
While he waited, he focused on his ability, Soul Sense, feeling as people came and went from the hospital.
The energy felt strange, formless, and flowing yet with a texture all the same. What was weirder was how the more he focused, the more he noticed that not everyone's energy was the same.
Some had more, their bodies full of it. Others had less, barely a candle's worth. They also varied in intensity and texture, some flaring out, some feeling rough, and everything in between.
'I bet if I was around someone for long enough I could recognize them based on their soul.'
It was an unusual thing to think of identifying someone through something as personal as their soul, but given he was being sent to war, comfort had to be sacrificed for convenience every step of the way.
'Besides, it's not like I'm hurting them. I'm just staring at their soul to feel where they are without their consent!'
He tried not to focus on the implications too hard.
As he was training his ability, Charon heard a loud engine enter the parking garage, moving at a fast pace.
Opening his eyes, he saw a forest green military vehicle skid around a stone pillar and screech to a stop in front of him, the wheels screaming in protest.
It was long with eight wheels, and looked like it could hold dozens of men. A mounted turret was on top, the telltale glow of magic ammunition emanating from the barrel.
'Gods above, who taught them to drive, and where do I get one of those?'
The door was thrown open and a man stuck his head out. He had a short buzzcut and was clean-shaven, clearly being at most twenty years old.
His blue eyes locked onto Charon, followed by his barking orders.
"Are you Charon?"
The volume of it made him recoil, cringing at the excessiveness.
'Ever heard of an indoor voice?'
"Yes, I take it you-"
"Shut up and get in!"
Frowning at being interrupted and yelled at, he opened his mouth to speak again.
"I'm just mak-"
"I don't care! Get in or stay here, either is fine with me!"
Realizing words weren't going to do him any favors, his jaw closed with an audible clack before he ran up to the door, stepping up to enter.
The man moved back to let him in, but not enough to give him any personal space, causing Charon to brush within an inch of his uniform.
The first thing he noticed was the smell of body order, followed by the multitude of other soldiers crammed into small seats along the wall.
Everyone else was wearing basic military fatigues, camo green with patches of black. They all also sported buzz cuts and no facial hair, their faces serious and threatening as they watched Charon like a pack of hungry hyenas.
'I think I preferred the soldiers in the trial…'
A rough shove from behind forced him forward, followed by more orders, the booming voice echoing in the small metal box.
"Sit down or go flying!"
Deciding it was best not to tempt fate, he awkwardly staggered past the other soldiers, trying his best to ignore the death glares sent his way as he moved to the back where the only open seat was.
Just as he was about to sit down, the vehicle moved, sending him crashing into the back wall, his shoulder exploding in pain as it cushioned his fall.
'What the hell? I was almost there!'
Cradling his arm with one hand, he quickly climbed to his feet, pulling himself to the seat and sitting down.
'Why is it always my shoulder! Why can't I land on something nice, like a pillow, or a nice bed?'
Thinking of a million different insults for the driver's skills, he looked for some kind of seat belt or other harness, finding nothing.
Glancing up, he saw that no one else was buckled in, braving the suicidal drive with nothing but prayers and strictness.
Charon gulped, counting the number of souls he could sense in the vehicle to figure out how just many bodies were crammed into this thing.
'Thirty!? They fit thirty of us in here? No wonder it smells so bad!'
Cursing his luck, he rubbed his aching shoulder. He had just joined the military, and was already unsure if it was the best choice.
The soldier sitting next to him turned and smirked, shouting at Charon even with their close proximity.
"Welcome to the war effort, Lieutenant!"
The man drew out the last word, revealing exactly how he felt about that title, confirmed by the elbow he jabbed into Charon's side.
Charon doubled over, hissing from the pain and doing his best not to lash out.
'Yeah, joining the military was definitely a mistake. Maybe I can still go back to the hospital bed…'