To say Charon was surprised was an understatement. I mean, who the hell hadn't heard a single rock song? Like ever in their entire life? Well... I guess it made sense, a little thing like you without a single clue of the world of metal.

But, fear not, Charon was there for you, like a guide, or even better, a babysitter. Oh, how fun this was, having to guard you from the massive dudes in the moshpit.

You were still as wide-eyed as ever, blinking rapidly as if you were trying to commit every sight, every sound to memory. He could practically see the gears in your head turning, trying to make sense of the beautiful madness around you. The stage lights flashed erratically, illuminating the band in bursts of red and white, their silhouettes cutting through the haze of smoke and flashing strobes. The lead singer's voice was raw, powerful, guttural—it tore through the air like a war cry, the guitars roaring alongside it in a perfect, violent harmony.

The air was thick with electricity, a current of energy passing through the crowd as bodies pressed close together, moving like a singular, writhing mass. The heat, the sweat, the sheer chaos of it all—it was overwhelming, almost intoxicating.

Charon nudged your shoulder, leaning down so you could hear him over the deafening sound. “Not bad, huh?” he called, his voice just barely cutting through the wall of noise.

You turned to him, and he could tell you were struggling to find words. Instead, you just nodded, your lips parting as if to speak but no sound coming out. Charon chuckled, clearly amused. "Yeah, yeah, it’s a lot at first. But you’ll get it. Just let it hit you—don’t think too much."

The sheer force of the bass rattled through your bones, and for a second, you thought you could feel your heartbeat syncing up with the music itself. The crowd around you was alive, singing, screaming, throwing their fists into the air in perfect unison. It was chaotic, unpredictable—but there was something undeniably freeing about it.