Carter and Locki left that very day after discussing the mysterious videos. The decision came easily, but unease shadowed every step of their journey. The problem was clear: no one knew where the cemetery truly lay, and worse, it was said to be hidden—sealed behind illusions and ancient sorcery. Even if they stood upon its soil, it would not appear unless summoned.
By the time they reached the supposed location, the sun had dipped low, staining the horizon in blood-red light. The land before them was bare, lifeless. Not a single gravestone, not even a marker of death. Only silence.
They began their search. Locki's eyes darted over every rock, every twisted root, hunting for some overlooked sign. But Carter's thoughts strayed. His mind lingered on the shadow they had seen in the videos, its twisted silhouette burned into him like a warning. He knew—though he could not explain how—that he understood more about it than anyone else. And that knowledge made his heart beat faster.
Then, out of the silence, came footsteps.
Slow. Heavy. Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound pressed against their nerves until Locki yanked Carter into the bushes. They crouched low, barely daring to breathe, as the source revealed itself.
An old man. Bent, thin, leaning on a cane.
At first glance, he might have seemed harmless, but there was something wrong about him. The air thickened as he passed, as though life itself recoiled from his presence. His face was wrinkled, yet pale, almost corpse-like, and his cloudy eyes gleamed with something unnatural.
Locki stiffened. Recognition struck like lightning. He remembered DA's words—of the old man who had struck Carter during the zombie apocalypse. This… this was him. The same man.
The old man stopped. His cane tapped the air as though searching for a lock only he could see. Slowly, he pulled a key from his pocket and lifted it. He turned it in the empty space.
Click.
The sound rang like a shackle snapping open.
The ground trembled. A gust of freezing wind rushed past them, carrying with it the stench of rotting earth. One by one, gravestones clawed their way out of the dirt, as though pulled from another world. Black vines spread like veins across the soil, and the outline of a wrought-iron gate twisted into being. Its bars were rusted, bent, and streaked with what looked disturbingly like dried blood.
The cemetery had appeared.
And it was hungry.
The old man entered without hesitation, as though he were its keeper—or its king.
Cloaked in camouflage, Carter and Locki slipped after him. The moment they crossed the threshold, the air changed. It grew colder, heavier, thick with whispers that slithered just beyond hearing. Shadows seemed to lean toward them, drawn to their warmth. Every grave bore names too eroded to read, yet the soil at their bases shifted faintly, as though something buried was trying to crawl free.
The old man walked a few steps, then stilled. From the ground behind him, a shadow seeped upward like spilled ink, stretching into a hunched, writhing figure.
"Was everything well here while I was away?" the old man asked, his voice too calm for a place like this.
"Your Majesty," the shadow rasped, its tone like leaves dragged over stone. "A man named Akira entered. He came with the spell. Another entered even before him."
"Akira…" The old man's lips curled. "I do not know him. But if he came by spell, then he belongs."
The shadow hesitated. "He entered that place. He was touched by the plant."
A cruel chuckle escaped the old man. "Then his soul rots. Not my concern. But thanks to him, our grip on Hero Town tightens again."
"Anything else?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The shadow darted across the ground, faster than thought. Carter barely had time to flinch before it erupted beneath them, hands of pure darkness wrapping around their throats. Their camouflage shattered, exposing them under the moon's pale gaze.
"Your Majesty," the shadow hissed, dragging them forward. "These two followed you."
The old man's dead-white eyes gleamed as he smiled. "Ah… Carter boy. And Locki. So we meet again."
The shadow released them, and they collapsed to the damp, rotting soil, coughing, the stink of decay filling their lungs.
The old man turned away, humming a tune that didn't belong in this world. With a stomp of his cane, a massive clock appeared, its hands ticking backward, gears grinding with the sound of bones cracking. In an instant, it twisted into a glowing gateway. He stepped through, vanishing, leaving only his stench behind.
Silence.
The shadow swelled again, taller, sharper, preparing to tear them apart. But a blur struck it mid-rise.
Crash!
A man landed with a flying kick, slamming the creature back into the graves. He stood in front of Carter and Locki, his back to them, shoulders broad against the gloom.
"Go," he said, his voice cutting through the cemetery's whispers. "I'll handle this."
Locki gaped, frozen. Carter grabbed his hand and pulled. "Move!"
They ran, stumbling through cracked soil and clawing vines toward the doorway from the videos.
"What the hell is he doing here?" Carter muttered under his breath.
"Carter… do you know that man?" Locki asked.
Carter's answer never came.
The moment their hands touched the gateway, they were devoured. The cemetery vanished in a blur of darkness, and they fell, plummeting into a place far stranger—and perhaps even worse.