Chapter 406: Gunshots in the Cemetery

In the serene solitude of the graveyard, the grizzled caretaker, a seasoned guardian of the dead, craned his neck upwards once again, casting a wary glance in the direction of the nearby guardhouse. He had previously dispatched a hasty message to the cathedral, a high-priority report about an uncharacteristic agitation amongst the corpses within the confines of the mortuary. However, his alert had met with nothing but stony silence. It seemed apparent that the Silent Cathedral, likely engulfed in its own flurry of problems, could spare no effort to address the peculiar occurrences at his modest graveyard.

After all, the entire city was now blanketed in an odd, dense fog, and the sun had inexplicably vanished from the vast sky above. The cathedral was undoubtedly engrossed in dealing with these larger, more pressing matters.

“Seems I’m all alone in this...” the elderly caretaker uttered to himself, a note of resignation in his voice. He tugged his coat tighter around his body, the soft leather and the metal plates embedded within rubbing together to create a faint, yet distinct, noise. He observed with a mixture of curiosity and unease, “This fog’s reach is too far and wide...”

The slight sounds of friction and clattering disrupted the prevailing silence in the cemetery. Underneath the oppressive haze, the coffins arranged on several nearby mortuary tables appeared to quiver subtly.

“Can’t you folks rest in peace, given that I stand guard over you night after night?” The old caretaker scowled, gingerly hoisting his firearm. He was fully aware that these bodies, which had lain quiet and still for days, were now oddly “active” due to the ominous fog. He felt helpless against this inexplicable phenomenon.

The only option available to him was a grim one: to wait for them to rise, only to return them to their eternal sleep with the aid of his bullets.

As he was engaged in these somber thoughts, an unusual noise, different from the eerie stirring within the coffins, abruptly pierced the silence, snapping the old man’s attention. He reacted swiftly, his eyes darting towards the narrow path leading to the cemetery’s entrance.

Emerging from the other end of the path was a small figure, appearing as a bobbing sphere akin to a snowball, as she stumbled forward.

“Guardian Grandpa! Please help me! Guardian Grandpa! Are you there!?” The voice of the bobbing figure echoed through the graveyard, carrying with it a desperate attempt to contain her rising panic and anxiety.

“Annie!” The grizzled caretaker, taken aback, instinctively bellowed through the fog towards the girl, “Quick, come this way, not that!”

The young girl, who had charged into the cemetery in a state of extreme fear, finally caught sight of the old man standing near the guardhouse. A wave of relief washed over her scared, anxious face, and she sprinted towards him, “Guardian Grandpa! I’m so glad you’re here...”

“What on earth are you doing outside in such dangerous conditions!?” The old caretaker had no time to indulge in the girl’s relief, immediately reprimanding her with a stern expression. Today was far from an ordinary day. The threat posed by the fog was incomparable to mere slippery streets on a winter’s day. “Are you aware that the entire city is under martial law?!”

“I got separated from everyone else!” Annie recoiled slightly at the harshness in the old caretaker’s voice but quickly began to explain, her hands flailing animatedly as she did so. “Our teacher had taken us on a field trip to the museum, and when we were leaving, we encountered this intense fog. Our teacher tried to lead us to the nearest shelter for the night, but before I knew it, they had all vanished into the fog...”

The old caretaker stared at her in astonishment, “Vanished... into the fog?”

“Yes, just like that, vanished in a blink,” Annie replied, her voice trembling slightly as she recounted her ordeal. “So I decided to find a place to hide. The museum had closed its doors, and I couldn’t find any adults on the streets. All the buildings were locked up tight, and no amount of knocking made anyone answer. Then I remembered what our teacher had said, that if we ever found ourselves in danger, we should seek help from the nearest priest, guardian, or sheriff. The cemetery was closest, and you’ve always said you were an experienced guardian...”

The old man’s facial expressions cycled through a gamut of emotions as he listened to the young girl’s hurried explanation. He realized that he had perhaps been too harsh with her, given their immediate danger. Considering her age, her response was commendably collected. Still, not wanting to appear soft, he held onto his stern demeanor, “So you sought refuge in the cemetery?”

Annie nodded her head vigorously, “Yes, people always say that veteran guardians are much stronger than regular ones...”

“The gatekeeper of the ‘other side’ must be having a field day. I hope they’re prepared for an influx of souls checking out earlier than expected.”

The old guardian’s gruff mutterings provided a grim soundtrack to the chaos, his hands never ceasing their relentless dance of reloading and firing. His trusty shotgun sent them on their premature journeys one by one, but still, more restless bodies were rising from the ground.

Their increasing numbers momentarily stumped the old guardian.

Could the cemetery accommodate such a vast number of bodies? Could all the mortuary slabs combined hold this throng of restless entities?

Were they materializing out of the dense fog?!

Bang!

Another loud gunshot echoed, followed closely by a roar that seemed to come from nearby. Without raising his head, the old guardian’s left hand instinctively moved towards his chest, retrieving a short sword. The next instant, he had almost teleported a few meters away from the guardhouse. His short sword fell with lightning speed, taking down another restless one, its swollen and distorted head rolling onto the ground.

The old man glimpsed downwards, noticing a large eye adorning the head.

His astonishment was fleeting. He was already back at the guardhouse’s entrance, his gun raised and aimed at another unsteady silhouette looming through the fog. As he pulled the trigger, there was no bang, just the hollow click of an empty barrel.

A momentary flicker of concern passed over the old man’s face. He quickly holstered his short sword and reached for the ammunition pouch at his waist—it was also empty.

After a brief pause, the old guardian let out a resigned sigh, “That’s alright, the count should be about right...”

He laid down his now useless shotgun, reaching again for his short sword as he squared up to face the restless ones shuffling towards him from the fog.

Then, a soft creaking sound reached his ears, originating from behind him – it was the guardhouse door being cautiously opened. To his astonishment, Annie emerged, her small hands clutching a loaded high-caliber rifle. It was his reserve weapon.

Beneath Annie’s tiny feet lay several bags and boxes of bullets, varying in size.

Scratches scored the floor, a testament to the little girl’s strenuous efforts in dragging these hefty items from a corner of the room.

“Guardian Grandpa, use this,” Annie offered, her small hand trembling slightly under the weight as she handed the high-caliber rifle to the seasoned guardian standing before her, “Will it be of help?”

“...Yes,” the old man affirmed after a moment’s hesitation, reaching out to accept the rifle while passing the double-barreled shotgun to the girl, “Load this.”