The ground had gone still.The whispers were gone.And for the first time, the silence was heavier than the noise.
I stood there, staring at the shallow grave.
No name.No flowers.Just dirt, silence, and the sharp metallic taste of guilt still clinging to the back of my throat.
Then came the fog.
It rolled in low—at first like mist over morning grass. But it didn't stop. It thickened. Curled around tombstones. Swallowed the sky. It moved with intent.
And then it howled.
Not wind. Not animal. Not even human.
It was a grief-scream. A noise that made my knees want to buckle and my teeth ache.
Something was inside the fog.
[New Threat Detected]
FOGWALKERS – Bound Dead. Feeders of Regret.
Vulnerable only after a burial.
Buried souls delay their arrival. Unburied souls summon them faster.
Status: Tracking You. ETA – 60 Seconds.
I didn't think. I ran.
Feet slamming against uneven stone and mud.Gravestones rushed past in a blur. Some toppled. Others watched.The fog chased like it had hands.
But the Deadzone didn't allow easy escape. The terrain twisted while I moved — hills turned into pits, trees into doorways, doorways into open graves. I dodged one only to fall into another, rolling down a slope and slamming into something cold.
I landed in front of a stone statue.
A woman. Eyes covered. Mouth open. Hands cupped like she was begging.
There was something resting in her palms.
A shovel.
[Grave Tool Found: Bound Iron Shovel]
Item Type: Ritual WeaponCondition: DamagedBonus Effect: +15% Burial Efficiency | +5% Remnant Control
This tool remembers every grave it's dug.
Binding Option Available — Accept? [Yes] / [No]
I didn't hesitate.
[Yes]
The shovel pulsed. My palm burned.
A sigil crawled into my skin like a hot nail—metal against flesh.
Then the fog screeched again.
It was close.
I turned—and saw it.
The Fogwalker.
It didn't walk. It floated inches above the ground, a tangle of arms and twisted bone wrapped in chains of fog. Its head twitched every second, as if it couldn't decide where to scream from.
And then it saw me.
The chains snapped open.
[Fogwalker Engaged – Class: Minor Warden]
You may now test your burial weapon.
Objective: Survive. Or bury yourself.
It charged.
I swung.
Not trained. Not perfect. Just desperate.
The shovel struck its side—it hissed, staggered, and then screamed into my mind. A wave of memories hit me—
A mother sobbing at a child's grave
A man hanging from a broken tree
My own face, alone, holding a letter I hadn't opened yet
It tried to feed me grief.
But something inside me said no.
Not this time.
Not again.
I roared and dug the shovel into its chest.
Dirt exploded outward. Chains cracked. Its form tore apart—not like a creature dying, but like a scream being buried under silence.
The fog snapped backward like a retreating tide.
And when it vanished… so did the Fogwalker.
[Enemy Defeated: Minor Fogwalker]
You buried your first bound soul.
Reward: +1 Tomb Shard
New Trait Available: "Gravereach" – Your shovel extends farther than your swing.
Progress: 1/100 Graves Cleared
I stood there, panting, staring at the cracked blade of the shovel.
My fingers hurt. My brain buzzed.
But I was alive.
And something deep, deep underground…
had just noticed me.