Chapter 1 The Tomb

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

He had already reported the undead's unrest in the morgue to the Grand Cathedral via swiftmail, but had yet to receive a response – obviously, with the entire city covered in a strange fog and the sun having disappeared from the sky, the Grand Cathedral had no extra energy to spare for the unusual situation in a small cemetery.

"Can only rely on myself..." the old caretaker grumbled, tightening his coat. The leather armor and metal plates lining the inside rustled softly. "This fog covers quite a wide area..."

The sounds of scraping and tapping broke the silence of the cemetery. Beneath the thick fog, the coffins on the nearby embalming tables seemed to vibrate slightly.

"...Considering I keep watch over you dead folks every night, couldn't you be a little more peaceful right now?" The old caretaker frowned, raising the muzzle of his gun slightly. He knew these bodies, which had been properly laid to rest for several days, were suddenly "active" because of this strange fog, but he was helpless.

He supposed he could only wait for them to crawl out and then send them off with a bullet each.

Just as he was thinking this, a sound different from the commotion in the surrounding coffins suddenly caught the old man's attention. He paused, instantly realized what it was, and looked up towards the path at the entrance of the cemetery.

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

"Grandpa Caretaker! Help me! Grandpa Caretaker!

Are you there?!"

The bouncing snowball shouted on the path, its voice sounding like it was suppressing panic and tension.

"Annie!" The old caretaker was momentarily taken aback, but instinctively shouted at the girl through the fog, "Come here, don't go that way!"

The little girl, who had rushed into the cemetery in a panic, finally saw the old man standing near the caretaker's hut. A moment of relief appeared on her tense, frightened face, and she quickly ran towards him: "Grandpa Caretaker! Thank goodness 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, and immediately scolded 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 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 they disappeared into the fog in the blink of an eye." The old caretaker stared wide-eyed. "Disappeared into the fog?"

"Yes, they disappeared, it was just a blink of an eye," Annie seemed to be still in shock, but tried her best to explain her experience. "Then I went to find a place to hide on my own. The museum was locked down, I couldn't find any adults on the street, all the doors were locked, and no one answered when I knocked. Then I remembered what the teacher said, that if you encounter danger, you should go to the nearest priest, guardian, or constable. The cemetery 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 moment of anxiety. The child's response was actually a calm move for someone her age, but he couldn't bring himself to soften his expression, so he could only continue to maintain a stern face: "So you came to the cemetery for refuge?"

Annie nodded vigorously: "Yes, they all say guardian veterans are more powerful than ordinary guardians..."

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

Annie became somewhat flustered: "I... shouldn't I have come here?"

"...No, there's no better option right now. The probability of something happening to you while running around in the streets in this fog is higher," the old caretaker shook his head, "You hide..."

Before he could finish his words, a strange rattling sound nearby interrupted him. Immediately after, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that a shadow suddenly rose from the nearest embalming table – the lid of a shoddy coffin was suddenly pushed open, and a restless arm struggled to lift itself from the coffin. Soon after, a restless corpse rose from it!

With no time to remind Annie to close her eyes, the old caretaker instinctively raised the double-barreled shotgun in his hand. After a "bang," the corpse that had just risen unsteadily fell backward, and then rolled off the embalming table onto the ground due to loss of balance.

"Ah!"

Annie, who was hiding behind him, was just a child after all, 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 at the embalming table just now in horror, her tone stuttering.

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

"Annie finally smoothed her breath and shouted quickly, "The teacher said that at this time, you should immediately silently recite Bartok's name in your heart, and then use sourwood branches or smoked ropes to whip the restless, 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 a few seconds, he suddenly raised his shotgun quickly, reloaded it, turned around and aimed at another embalming platform without looking back. After another "bang," another restless corpse that had just crawled out of the coffin lay back down where it should be sleeping.

"Your textbooks are different from when I was a kid. We put this lesson after high school," he said casually.

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

"You hide in the house," the old man immediately escorted the little girl to the front of the caretaker's hut, opened the door, and pushed Annie in. "No matter what happens outside, absolutely do not leave – as long as you don't go out, this hut is as safe as the sanctuary of a church, understand?"

Annie widened her eyes in horror, nodding subconsciously while looking at the fog outside. In her vision, the embalming tables in the fog seemed to come alive one by one, shadows wriggling between the platforms, and invisible roars echoing in the cemetery. Nailed coffins cracked and opened one after another, and terrifying figures were awakening and sitting up from those "beds" that were supposed to provide rest.

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

The caretaker's hut was sturdy and protected by spells, but if all the dead in the entire cemetery really crawled out, then this thin little shelter might not be able to withstand the entire attack – even if it physically held up, the mental stimulation brought about by the undead siege could penetrate the hut's protection and affect the child.

The more he could kill, the safer Annie would be.

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

The old soldier let out a muddy groan in his throat, skillfully pulling the bolt of the gun, ejecting the shell, and reloading. The pair of eyes that had been clouded seemed to contain a flame, and without almost any aiming, he had already aimed at the next restless resident.

Gunshots rang out, the undead rested, gunpowder smoke rose, and souls were reborn.

"The gatekeepers on the other side are going to be busy today. Hopefully, they can handle so many souls who are heading there early."

The old caretaker muttered, but his movements did not stop at all. Several restless individuals had begun to move towards the caretaker's hut. He repeatedly loaded bullets, fired shots, and repeatedly sent his "residents" on their way ahead of schedule.

More and more swaying corpses appeared around the path.

Those shadowy figures even caused the old caretaker to feel a moment of confusion –

Are there so many corpses in the cemetery? Adding up all the embalming tables, can they hold this many corpses?

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

Bang!

After another gunshot, the old caretaker heard a very close roar nearby. Without even 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 next to the door a few meters away. The short sword slashed through the air in an instant, a corpse fell down, and a swollen, deformed head rolled on the ground.

The old man looked down and saw that the head only had one huge eye.

The shock in his heart only lasted for a moment. The old man had already returned to the door of the hut, while raising the muzzle of his gun, pointing at another shadow swaying towards him in the fog.

He pulled the trigger, but the gun didn't fire, only the clicking sound of the empty chamber.

The old man's eyes changed slightly. He quickly put away the short sword and reached for the bullet bag on his waist with his free hand – 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 swaying out of the fog one by one.

A slight creaking sound came from behind him.

The caretaker's hut was opened from the inside.

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

The little girl was tightly holding a loaded large-caliber rifle 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 scratch marks 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 to take the rifle, and threw the double-barreled shotgun to the girl, "Reload."