Past the crowd at the pit, the underworld stops being a flat shore and starts moving. Hills rise and fade. Fog parts on figures Odysseus glimpses but cannot approach. Tityus spread on his rock, his liver eaten by birds and growing back so it can be eaten again. Sisyphus pushing his stone up a slope it will always roll down. Tantalus standing in water that recedes when he bends to drink, under fruit that lifts away when he reaches. Punishments engineered for futility. The cruelty is in the never finishing, the never quite. They are not stories about pain. They are stories about hope being used against you, the same act forever, knowing it cannot end. The shades who get to wail at the blood pit are getting off easy compared to these. Odysseus sees enough to understand and runs.
Eternal Punishment
Through gaps in the fog, Tityus eaten by birds forever, Sisyphus and his stone, Tantalus reaching for water that retreats. Forever is the point.