The night stretched unnaturally long, as if time itself had grown weary and slowed to a crawl. The air was thick with tension—and fog. Dense, creeping mist rolled across the abandoned road, lit only by the pale blue shimmer of a dying moon. Every step forward felt like sinking deeper into a dream twisted by dread.
In the middle of that desolate path, a figure stood.
Shrouded in a tattered black cloak, its face hidden beneath a heavy hood, the figure was motionless. Silent. As if carved out of the very shadows around it.
And then—it moved.
One foot dragged forward.
Then another.
The faint crunch of gravel echoed like a gunshot through the quiet.
Stan's breath caught. His fingers clenched around the hilt of his sword.
"This is bad… this is seriously bad," he thought, cold sweat trailing down his neck. "It's like a horror movie scene come to life."
Raising his blade, he shouted, "Stop!! I said stop right there!"
At the same time, Sunfield reacted with sharp precision. She drew her bow, her fingers already pulling a shimmering silver arrow into place, the string taut, humming with restrained fury.
The figure kept walking—slow, deliberate.
Their breathing grew louder. Faster.
"STOP THERE, SIM SIM!!!" Nito suddenly shouted.
Silence.
"…What?" Stan blinked.
Sunfield frowned. "Sim… what?"
Yoma squinted. "Huh?"
Visceria tilted her head, baffled. "Sim sim???"
The random phrase, dropped like a pebble into still water, broke their focus for a crucial second.
And that second was all it took.
The cloaked figure suddenly burst forward, launching into a full-speed sprint.
"STAN, WATCH OUT!!" Sunfield's warning cut through the night like a scream.
From beneath the cloak, a jagged sword flashed out.
But Stan was quicker than most would expect—he pivoted, metal meeting metal in a sharp clash that sent sparks flying into the fog.
"You thought it would be easy raiding five adventurers alone? Huh?!" Stan snarled, holding his ground, muscles tense.
Behind them, Nito was already moving. Even beyond his rare time-reversing abilities, Nito was a master of alchemy.
From a pouch slung at his hip, he pulled two vials—one orange, one pink.
Without hesitation, he poured them together in a swirling motion.
The mixture thickened, releasing a gluey sheen.
[New Item Acquired: Adhesive Binding Potion]
"Stan, get clear! I'll lock him down!" Nito shouted, hurling the potion with a trained flick.
But before it could land—
The cloaked figure stopped. Slowly, it lifted its head, and a distorted voice rasped from beneath the hood.
"I… am not alone."
Then—
Grrr... grrr... Aaarrrrrgh...
Roar! Snap!
From every direction, the fog began to speak—growling, snarling, clawing at the edges of their senses. Beastly sounds, some inhuman, some grotesquely familiar.
The figure retreated a few steps into the mist.
Stan's eyes darted side to side. "What… are those sounds?"
His instincts screamed a single truth:
They were surrounded.
Then—
Thud.
A cold whisper slithered into Yoma's ear from behind.
"Found you."
Yoma's heart stopped. His legs gave out, collapsing onto one knee as he spun in terror. Behind him—nothing but white fog. Still, something had been there. He was sure of it.
His hand shot out, snatching a bag—a bag none of them had noticed until now, tucked away behind a broken barrel.
Without explanation, he bolted.
"Yoma!?" Sunfield called.
Stan shouted, "Was that bag always there?"
"RETREAT!" Sunfield's voice rose above the growing cacophony. "WE'RE SURROUNDED! FALL BACK!"
From the white sea of mist, they emerged—undead.
Rotting humans. Snarling dogs with vacant eyes. Even skeletal birds, their wings nothing more than bone and shadow. They rose like a tide, an unholy army summoned from nightmare.
Stan turned toward Visceria—but she was gone.
"Visceria?! VISCERIA!!" he yelled, his voice raw with panic. "Did she run with Yoma?! Or—?"
Sunfield didn't wait.
She fired a single arrow into a narrow alley beside them. Mid-flight, it split—exploding into dozens of smaller, glowing bolts that traced a path across the ground.
They ignited, forming a blazing boundary—a beacon of escape.
"Move! This way!" she ordered.
The trio—Stan, Nito, and Sunfield—raced through the burning corridor, the fog parting just enough to let them pass.
Behind them, the undead closed in, swarming the town like locusts.
Yoma had vanished into the smoke.
Visceria's fate was unknown.
And the identity of the cloaked man… still a mystery.
But one thing was clear.
This wasn't a random attack.
It was a warning.
The night was only beginning.
And it promised to get much, much darker.
----------
Behind the glow of the blazing arrows, as the trio disappeared into the alley's light, the fog returned to stillness. The sounds of battle faded into a low rumble, almost like distant thunder rolling through the dead town.
The cloaked figure stood unmoved, surrounded by undead husks swaying in silence. Then, from the mist beside him, a child-like silhouette drifted into view—her feet not touching the ground.
A ghost.
Small. Pale. Her hair floated unnaturally around her like seaweed underwater. Her eyes and shining faintly, locked onto the horizon where the adventurers had vanished.
The figure spoke again, his voice a mangled echo of broken glass and static.
"The Crusador is of no need. Capture the mage… or that elf. And beware of the other two. They're… abnormal."
The ghost girl slowly turned her head toward him. "Abnormal? You mean unholy abilities user?"
There was a pause. Even the undead seemed to lean in closer, waiting.
The figure's head dipped slightly, his voice lower now—strained.
"No… they're more than unholy. I've only felt this kind of anomaly once."
A breathless hush filled the air.
"When he entered."
The ghost's expression twisted, ever so slightly—recognition laced with curiosity.
"And the others? One of them feels… troublesome."
"I've already sent someone after them. No need to waste thought."
The girl said nothing more. Her eyes turned back toward the flames flickering in the distance, watching… waiting.
And above them, the moon dimmed behind the clouds—choked by fog, like the world itself was holding its breath.
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