Chapter 1

In the graveyard, the old caretaker looked up again, glancing at the watchman's hut beside him.

He had already reported the agitation of the dead in the mortuary to the Cathedral in the form of a swift message, but had not yet received a response—obviously, with the entire city covered in eerie fog and the sunlight in the sky strangely absent, the Cathedral had no spare energy to pay attention to the unusual situation in a small graveyard.

"I can only rely on myself..." the old caretaker muttered, tightening his coat, the leather armor and metal inserts lining it rustling slightly. "This fog covers quite a range..."

The sounds of scraping and tapping broke the silence of the graveyard. Beneath the thick fog, the coffins on several nearby mortuary slabs seemed to vibrate slightly.

"...For the sake of me watching over you dead folks every night, can't you be a little quieter at a time like this?" The old caretaker frowned, slightly raising the muzzle of his gun. He knew that these corpses, which had been peacefully laid to rest for several days, were suddenly "active" because of the strange fog, but he was helpless.

He would probably just have to wait for them to crawl out and then send them off with a shot each.

Just as he was thinking this, a sound different from the agitation in the surrounding coffins suddenly caught the old man's attention. He paused for a moment, instantly realizing what it was, and looked up at the path leading to the graveyard entrance.

A small figure stumbled out from the other end of the path, a white, thick coat and skirt looking like a bouncing snowball in the dim environment.

"Grandpa Caretaker! Help me! Grandpa Caretaker!

Are you there?!"

The bouncing little snowball shouted on the path, her voice sounding like she was trying to suppress panic and tension.

"Annie!" The old caretaker, unable to suppress his surprise, instinctively shouted at the girl through the fog, "Come here, don't go over there!"

The little girl, who had stumbled into the graveyard in a panic, finally saw the old man standing near the watchman's hut. A moment of relief appeared on her tense, frightened face, and then she ran over quickly, "Grandpa Caretaker! I'm so glad you're here..."

"Why are you still running around outside at this hour?!" The old caretaker didn't bother listening to the girl's cheers, but immediately rebuked her with a stern face, because today's situation was different from usual. The danger of this fog was unlike the slippery streets on a snowy day. "Do you know that the whole city is under martial law?!"

"I got separated from my classmates!" Annie was startled by the old man's stern look and tone, but quickly waved her hands to explain. "We went to visit the museum with our teacher, and we encountered the fog when we came out. The teacher said he would take us to the nearest Nightfall Shelter, but in the blink of an eye, they walked into the fog and disappeared."

The old caretaker stared, "Walked into the fog and disappeared?"

"Yes, disappeared, it was just a blink of an eye," Annie seemed to be in shock, but tried to explain her experience. "Then I went to find a place to hide by myself. The museum was locked down, I couldn't find any adults on the street, all the doors were locked, and no one opened the door no matter how hard I knocked. Then I remembered that the teacher said that if you encounter danger, you should go to the nearest priest, guardian, or constable. The graveyard is the closest, and I heard you say that you are a Guardian veteran..."

Listening to the girl's rapid explanation, the expression on the old caretaker's face changed rapidly several times. He realized that he had wrongly blamed the little girl in his urgency. The child's response was actually a calm act compared to her peers, but he couldn't bring himself to soften his expression for a moment, so he could only continue to keep a straight face: "So you came to the graveyard for refuge?"

Annie nodded vigorously: "Yes, they all say that Guardian veterans are more powerful than ordinary Guardians..."

"...But the graveyard is not a suitable place to take refuge," the old caretaker said in a deep voice, "especially at a time like this."

Annie was a little flustered: "I... shouldn't I have come here?"

"...No, there's no better choice now. The probability of you running into trouble on the street in this fog is even higher," the old caretaker shook his head. "You hide..."

Before he could finish his words, a strange cracking sound nearby interrupted him, and then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a shadow rising from the nearest mortuary slab—the lid of a shoddy coffin was suddenly pushed open, and a restless arm struggled to lift itself out of the coffin. Then, the agitated corpse rose from it!

Without even having time to remind Annie to close her eyes, the old caretaker instinctively raised the double-barreled shotgun in his hand. After a "bang" of thunder, the corpse, which had just been swaying and rising, fell backward, and then rolled off the mortuary slab due to loss of balance.

"Ah!"

Annie, who was hiding behind him, was, after all, just a child, and was immediately startled by the gunshot, but more than the gunshot, she was more shocked by the corpse that had just sat up in the fog...

"That... that..." The little girl pointed to the mortuary slab just now in horror, her tone stuttering.

The old caretaker subconsciously opened his mouth: "Don't be afraid, that's just..."

"...Annie finally smoothed out her breathing and shouted quickly, "The teacher said that at this time, you should immediately silently recite Bartok's name in your heart, and then whip the agitators with sourwood branches or smoked ropes, and then find a chance to run to the nearest church for help..."

The old caretaker listened to the little girl's rapid words in a daze. After being stunned for two or three seconds, he suddenly raised his shotgun quickly, reloaded it, and turned around to aim at another mortuary platform without looking back. After another "bang", another agitator who had just crawled out of the coffin lay back in the place where it should be sleeping.

"Your current textbooks are different from what I had back then. We put this lesson after high school," he said casually.

Annie subconsciously hugged her head, her small body trembling a little from the impact of another gunshot. Although she reacted quickly when reciting the textbook just now, her fear and tension were still quite honestly revealed.

"You hide in the house," the old man immediately escorted the little girl to the watchman's hut, opened the door with his backhand, and pushed Annie in. "No matter what happens outside, never leave—as long as you don't go out, this hut is as safe as the icon hall of a church, understand?"

Annie widened her eyes in horror, nodding subconsciously while looking at the thick fog outside. In her sight, the mortuary slabs in the fog seemed to come alive one by one. Shadows squirmed between the platforms, and invisible roars echoed in the graveyard. The nailed coffins cracked and opened one after another, and terrifying figures were waking up and sitting up from those "beds" that were supposed to provide rest.

The old caretaker pushed Annie into the hut, closed the door casually, and turned around for another shot.

The watchman's hut was very strong and had spell protection, but if all the dead in the entire graveyard really crawled out, then this thin small shelter might not be able to withstand all the attacks—even if it physically blocked them, the mental stimulation brought by the siege of the dead might penetrate the protection of the hut and affect the child.

Kill as many as possible, and Annie will be safe.

"God of Death above, I've been retired for ten years!"

The old soldier uttered a turbid murmur in his throat, skillfully pulled the bolt in his hand, ejected the shell, and reloaded it. His eyes, which had already become cloudy, seemed to contain a ball of fire. Almost without aiming, he had already aimed at the next restless resident.

The gun fired, the dead rested, the smoke rose, and the souls were reborn.

"The doorkeepers on the other side must be busy today. Hopefully, they will be able to handle so many souls who have left early."

The old caretaker muttered, but his movements didn't stop at all. Several agitators had already begun to move towards the direction of the watchman's hut. He loaded bullets again and again, fired again and again, and sent his "residents" on their way ahead of time again and again.

More and more swaying corpses appeared around the path.

Those shadowy figures even caused the old caretaker a moment of confusion—

Were there so many corpses in the graveyard? Could all the mortuary slabs combined hold so many corpses?

Did they emerge out of thin air from this thick fog?!

Bang!

After another gunshot, the old caretaker heard a roar very close by. Without raising his head, he reached into his chest with his left hand, and a short sword appeared in his hand. In the next second, his body seemed to disappear and reappear in the air, several meters away from the door. The short sword slashed down in the air in an instant, a corpse fell, and a swollen, deformed head rolled on the ground.

The old man looked down and saw that there was only one huge eye on the head.

The shock in his heart only lasted for a moment. The old man had already returned to the door of the hut again, and at the same time raised the muzzle of his gun, pointing it at another shadow that was swaying and rushing towards him in the fog.

He pulled the trigger, but the gun didn't fire. Only the click of the empty gun rang out.

The old man's eyes changed slightly. He quickly put away the short sword and used his free hand to touch the bullet bag on his waist—it was already empty.

After a moment of silence, the old caretaker sighed: "Well, the number is about right..."

He put down the empty shotgun, reached out and took out his short sword again, and looked up at the figures that were swaying out of the fog one by one.

A slight creaking sound came from behind him.

The watchman's hut was opened from the inside.

The old man turned his head in surprise and saw Annie looking at him carefully.

The little girl was holding a loaded high-caliber rifle tightly in her hand—it was his spare weapon.

And at the little girl's feet were several bullet bags and ammunition boxes of various sizes.

There were obvious scratches on the floor. These heavy things were obviously dragged over from the corner by Annie with great effort.

"Grandpa Caretaker, use this," Annie raised her hand and handed the rifle to the old man in front of her with some effort, "Can it be of use?"

"...Yes," after a moment of silence, the old man nodded, reached out and took the rifle, and threw the double-barreled shotgun to the girl at the same time, "Load it."