The River of Oblivion didn't look like water.
From the ridge, it cut the twilight like a strip of molten silver appearing more brushed tal than liquid. The sky above it stayed the Passing's usual violet‑indigo, but right where river t air, colours bled into a gradient as if soone had smudged the world with an eraser.
Eathan stood at the edge of the riverbank, staring dubiously into the river. Compared to Midnight Avenue's neon chaos, the Oblivion was shimring with an almost peaceful glow.
"Atmospheric."
Beside him, Chewie folded her arms, eyes narrowed at the glimring expanse.
"So, this is where they wash brains before reincarnation."
Ghost couples posed nearby, beaming in suspiciously overpriced portrait booths. A vendor waved a laminated nu titled "Forget--Not Date Specials!"
"Is it always this peaceful?" Eathan asked. "Or is this one of those ominous calm-before-the-storm scenarios?"
"The Moon Goddess Chang'e created this place specifically to cleanse souls before reincarnation. Although," Chewie said, flicking her gaze toward a nearby brochure lying abandoned on a bench, "the more entertaining version claims it's carved from the tears of mortals mourning lost mories."
Mist crawled low over the surface, whispering. Half‑ford words brushed Eathan's ears as he and Chewie stepped down the long obsidian stairway to the bank.
"...forgot…" "...co ho…" "...what was I doing again…?"
He exhaled slowly, catching more eerie vibes from the river now.
Regardless, they started down.
The stairs had been carved straight into the dark stone, worn smooth by centuries of ghost feet.
The riverbank, when they reached it, was… busy.
Stalls lined the shore beneath strings of lanterns, each kiosk jamd together in a row. Every where they walked, he could hear vendors shouting over each other, voices weaving with the mist.
"Genuine Forgotten mories! Buy two, erase one free!"
"Ex‑boyfriend deletion packages! Guaranteed no karmic backlash—probably!"
"Selective Amnesia Shots! Remove that one bad haircut from your karmic record!"
Jars floated in one stall's air, each one holding a looping little scene: a schoolyard confession, a graduation walk, soone's first ti failing an exam and then ugly‑crying into a pillow.
A sign caught his eye near the waterline:
OBLIVION‑GRADE PROTECTIVE EQUIPNT – Approved by ng's Bureau*
*citation pending
Under it, a spectacled ghost in a neat vest leaned over a display of gear. On the middle shelf were half‑masks etched with fine runes; beside it wrist wraps, then slim pouches of pearly liquid.
The clerk perked up as they approached. "Honoured guests! First ti at the River? You're in luck, we're running a full mory‑retention package—"
"What would happen if we enter the water?" Eathan cut in. "Hypothetically."
"Hypothetically," the clerk said smoothly, "direct contact erodes surface mories in minutes. Inhalation of mist accelerates effect, especially for low‑karma souls. Full imrsion without protection… mm." They tilted their head. "Tourist pamphlet says 'not recomnded.' The real phrase is 'don't.'"
Chewie tapped one of the masks. "These actually work?"
"For river‑edge sightseeing, certainly! Up to twenty minutes of buffered protection. Anything deeper than the first current and you're in specialist territory." The clerk's smile flickered. "But that's not where respectable guests go, of course."
"Of course," Eathan echoed.
"In any case," the clerk said. "To have an optimal tourism experience, I highly recomnd Protection Package A—premium sealing masks, forget‑‑not nectar, river‑touch gloves—only three hundred Karma a set—"
At that mont, sothing blinked at the edge of Eathan's vision.
[SYSTEM] NOTIFICATION:
Skill [Karmic Insight] has been activated!
Calculating the situation…
No Karma required for first ti activation…
Complete!
Loading results…
[PROTECTION PACKAGE A]
[Market value]: ~80 Karma.
[Current price]: daylight robbery.
Eathan smiled politely. "Three hundred, huh."
"Why, yes!" The clerk bead. "You can't put a price on mory, young man."
"Apparently you can," he said mildly. "And then multiply it by four."
The ghost blinked.
Eathan let his Tier‑2 badge glimr—just a flicker of gold around his na on the spiritual ID as he passed it over the counter.
The clerk's eyes dropped to it, then their words died, followed by widened eyes and a posture that straightened like a snapped ruler.
"…Ah," the ghost said, voice climbing half an octave. "Enlightened Phantom… honoured guest, why didn't you say so sooner? Of course you would never be subjected to tourist rates. For Tier‑2, we have… special stock."
Beside him, Chewie watched, unimpressed. "You were going to scam us five minutes ago."
"Dynamic pricing," the clerk said weakly.
Shelves behind him shuffled themselves. A pair of masks rode to the front—thicker seals at the edges, runes woven in tighter scripts. The wrist wraps that floated after them looked more refined too, threads shifting colours slowly.
"Top‑grade sealing," the clerk explained. "Tested against moderate exposure. And the nectar—" he plucked two slim pouches from a chilled tray, liquid inside a luminous blue, "—buffer against mild erosion, even in higher‑density zones. For you both—one hundred Karma total. And allow to throw in a pouch of wipes for free."
Karmic deduction blinked across Eathan's HUD as he tapped his ID.
100 Karma has been subtracted from your [PROFILE]! (7760 → 7660)
Chewie pulled the mask over her face, testing the seal with two fingers. "Interesting."
They finished gearing up—masks snug over mouth and nose, iridescent wraps winding tightly from palm to forearm. The forget‑‑not pouches clipped onto their belts with a click.
Down the docks, boats bumped against the pilings like dark ribs along the silver expanse. Boats of every style clustered there: gondolas steered by robed ghosts; skeletal ferries lit by greenish fla. And then—
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
A small, narrow boat, its driver a stiff‑backed figure in a faded uniform. The jiangshi hopped in place with practised little jerks. A talisman fluttered on his hat with every motion.
A wooden sign hung from the bow:
RELABLE FERRY SERVICE 5 Karma / head
Chocolate snacks provided.
Chewie stopped, then pointed. "We're getting on that one."
Eathan eyed the jiangshi, who was currently trying to bow without falling off the deck. "Because?"
"Reliable," she recited. "And chocolate. Obviously a man of culture."
The jiangshi noticed them and hopped to attention. "Honoured custors!" he said, voice nasal and earnest. "Welco to Oblivion River Transport, subsidiary of Ferryn's Union. I am licensed, insured, and only capsized twice this decade."
"Wow," Eathan said. "Love those odds."
"He's honest." Chewie jumped lightly into the boat. "Even rarer."
Eathan followed, steadying the rocking gondola as best he could. He tapped his ID to the small jade slab mounted near the prow.
10 Karma has been subtracted from your [PROFILE]! (7660 → 7650)
"Two to mid‑channel. We may need to… loiter."
The jiangshi ferryman visibly winced at the word. "Mid‑channel is hazard‑rated, honoured sirs—ah, ma'am—ah, honoured ghosts. Extra karma for hazardous operating zones applies. And I must insist you remain seated and emotionally stable during transit."
"Emotionally stable is against my nature," Chewie said. "We'll pay extra."
They tapped Karma again—Eathan's HUD ticked down by a few dozen points.
The jiangshi made a noise that was nearly a sob. He accepted the invisible tip with both hands like a sacrificial offering.
"I shall row," he said solemnly, "as if my afterlife depends on it."
"…"
The boat drifted away, and within a dozen tres, the clamour of the bank dampened into a muffled murmur.
Up close, the River of Oblivion was worse.
The surface looked solid enough to walk on, but under the silver skin Eathan could see currents in darker shades, twisting like buried roads. Every so often, a bubble rose and popped, soundless at first, before releasing a breath of laughter or a choked‑off sob that evaporated in the mist.
Eathan's mask filtered the air into a faint herbal coolness. Under it, his own breathing sounded too loud.
"How long can we be out here before we start forgetting?" he asked.
"Tourist regulations say thirty minutes with standard gear," the ferryman said, hunched determinedly over his oar. "Longer for higher karma tiers—but do not worry, we will be done this tour in twenty."
Eathan did not reply. He checked his HUD again, more from nerves than necessity.
[Calamity Radar ω] hovered in the corner of his vision. Deep‑Scan sat greyed out, a little tooltip hanging beside it:
Qi‑dependent function unavailable in current plane!
The base overlay still worked, though. The river area in his ntal map showed as a pale sheet with darker veins. Nothing spiked yet, just a general background hum labelled [Hazard: Environntal].
A chi pinged higher up in his HUD. A new thread of code unrolled, flickering with familiar glitch‑clean precision.
"Ah," he muttered.
"What?" Chewie asked.
He tilted his head so she could see. A thin translucent red ribbon had appeared over the river, like a HUD mini-map lying flat on the water. One section glowed brighter than the rest, a sector halfway between the near bank and a fog‑shrouded bend.
At its edge floated a tiny icon: a stylised hood cape, face replaced by scrolling code.
"The anom ghost finally pinged," Eathan said. "Looks like the coordinates they narrowed earlier only resolved fully once we were in range."
The closer they got to the River, the more the blobby overlays had sharpened. Now, being physically here, they snapped into a clean zone: a rectangle mid‑channel, coordinates updating subtly as the current shifted.
The jiangshi ferryman's oar dipped and rose; each stroke made a soft, sticky sound as they glided. Around them, other boats turned off toward tourist loops near the shallows or to the shimring Bridge of Regret arching in the distance. Their gondola alone glided further into the quiet.
Mist thickened. The whispers changed timbre—less market‑noise, more… sigh.
The ribbon shifted as the boat glided forward, that glowing sector drifting closer. At the sa ti, [Auspicious Aura] stirred under Eathan's ribs, a familiar warm pressure, like carbonation in his bones.
He tightened his grip on the gunwale. "We're close."
The jiangshi swallowed audibly. "Honoured guests," he said, "this zone is not, ah, on the recomnded sightseeing route. Many thanks for choosing Reliable Ferry Service, but perhaps we might—"
"Hold position," Eathan said. "We just need to take a look."
Chewie was already knotting the enchanted rope they'd purchased at the dock around her waist. "You heard the Tier‑2 wallet," she told the jiangshi. "We'll be quick."
"If you perish in my boat," he whispered, "my custor ratings will suffer terribly."
"We won't," Eathan said, pulling his mask tight.
They tied themselves off to the boat's mid‑posts, looping the ropes around the central post of the gondola and double‑checking knots. The other ends of the ropes glowed, reacting to their karmic signatures. The ferryman hovered anxiously, hugging his dangly wrists.
"Ready?" Eathan asked.
Chewie's eyes glead above her mask. "Always."
They slipped over the side.
The instant the river closed over his head, the world turned muffled. His own breathing rattled loud inside the mask. Silver‑grey everywhere, layered like gauze. mory motes drifted through the water—tiny, pulsing points of light. Each one, when it slid close, flashed a tiny scene at the edge of his vision.
A hand whacking the snooze button on a mortal alarm clock.
A kid scribbling formulas on a test paper. Soone dropping a phone and swearing creatively.
Eathan gritted his teeth and kept his wrapped hands to himself. Touch bare skin to any of that and he'd be donating more than just a childhood embarrassnt.
The jiangshi's boat remained a smudge above, rope tethers stretching up to it. Below, the river fell away into murk. The red ribbon in Eathan's HUD adjusted, arrowing off to the left, then down. [Auspicious Aura] chid a little brighter beneath his ribs, guiding.
Eathan followed it, water tugging at his limbs, rope drawing faintly against his waist.
Chewie swam ahead like she'd been born doing underwater combat drills, one hand near the hilt of her collapsed blade, the other skimming the rock contours.
Around a jagged cluster, the currents twisted. Eathan felt it before he saw it—a resistance in the flow, as if sothing were refusing to be erased.
He drifted around the last rock and stopped dead.
And there, wedged in a cradle of stone, lay a cluster of light.
It wasn't bright in the usual sense, like fla or lightning. It was more like a cut of moonlight soone had crumpled into a sphere and then tried to tape back together. Silver‑white, veins of black and gold streaking across it in brushstroke arcs.
The water around it warped; mory motes that drifted too close bent away rather than dissolving.
The hairs on Eathan's arms lifted under the gloves.
Mister White.
Chewie's pupils shrank. Even through river and glass, he could feel the way her aura sharpened. She signed once at him—cover—and drifted closer.
Her wrapped fingers braced against the rock; she planted her feet, gritted her teeth, and yanked.
The core ca free with a jolt.
The river went still.
All the tiny lights around them paused mid‑drift, like surprised minnows. For a full second, the current held its breath.
"Chewie…" Eathan said, not daring to move an inch.
"I know," Chewie replied, equally still.
Sothing was moving beneath them.
At first, it just felt like a pressure drop, the way your stomach dips in an elevator. But by their second breath, the entire riverbed was bulging.
The smooth currents around them convulsed, and mory motes whirled like panicked fireflies. The rope jerked hard, dragging at Eathan's waist as the gondola above heaved.
Deep below, the riverbed shook even harder.
A sound rolled up from the trench. It was low and bone‑deep, halfway between a baby's wail and a collapsing building. It didn't hit his ears so much as his bones.
[Calamity Radar] exploded crimson.
[WARNING]: Primal Threat detected!
[HAZARD LEVEL]: Unknown
[RECOMND ACTION]: Abort area imdiately!
Before Eathan could even whip his head around and swim for his life, the trench in the rock split open, and sothing enormously pale pushed up from within.
An enormous baby's face breached the murk.
Its skin was corpse‑white and swollen, and both its eyes were squeezed shut.
Then, both lids snapped open, revealing round crimson irises that stared straight through them. Thick, oily black tears oozed out, threading into the water.
Behind that first head, more pale bulges strained upward. Two. Three. Four—
Primal horror detected!
[Humanity] has decreased by 1%! (34% → 33%)
Oh, Eathan thought absent-mindedly.
It had been a while since sothing just fear‑dropped his [Humanity].
More shapes writhed behind the first head—all the way until there were nine bulbous forms shifting, half‑visible in the gloom.
Chewie's aura flared sharp beside him as she clutched the cluster closer.
The Nine‑Headed Infant sucked in a breath.
The entire river moved with it.
The water bucked. A shockwave tore through the trench, snapping one of their rope tethers clean. Eathan tumbled sideways, fingers scrambling for purchase on smooth stone.
The boat above jerked. Sowhere distantly muffled, Eathan heard the faint, hysterical squeak of their jiangshi ferryman.
Chewie twisted, trying to protect the core.
"Move!" her voice grated in his ear.
But yet a second pulse hit them, without giving ti to breathe. The surge hit her square in the side, slamming her into the rock and wrenching her grip.
The sphere cracked.
Eathan saw it clearly: a line of light raced across the surface, branching like a spiderweb. Then, a smaller shard—sliver‑thin, darker than the rest—snapped off and spun out of her hands, sucked imdiately into the wild current.
That that mont, he found himself wanting to practically split in half.
Should he chase the shard?
Or should he stay with Chewie?
[Calamity Radar] exploded into frantic warnings as another shockwave bulled through the water, this one carrying the infantile monster's breath with it. The pressure hit them a half‑second later—pure, raw grief and hunger rolled into a shockwave.
For a terrifying heartbeat, Eathan forgot why he was here.
His na, COZMART shelves, Luke's stupid car shows, Mister White's hand flicking him a set of keys—he forgot them all.
He just rembered being very small and very tired.
The forget‑‑not nectar at his belt flared, burning cold against his side. The haze snapped; focus returned in a painful rush.
"Nope," he rasped. "Not today."
He kicked hard toward Chewie instead of chasing the shard.
She t him halfway, thrusting the main core mass into his hands. Even through the gloves, the contact numbed his arms, washing his bones with coldness.
Eathan hugged it to his chest, wrapping both arms around the cracked core and letting [Auspicious Aura] surge to the surface.
Chewie jabbed a finger upward: up.
Up, he signed back, and kicked harder.
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