The night rain poured down, drumming on the stone-paved streets with a fine, icy clatter. The entire city seemed shrouded in a layer of grey mist; lights were sparse, and no pedestrians could be seen.
At the exact instant the midnight bell tolled the twelfth stroke.
Something uncanny occurred.
The maid who had died in the daytime appeared on the street.
At this very moment.
She looked unspeakably terrifying.
She wore a tattered yet still splendid red wedding dress, the hem trailing along the ground, caked with mud and rotting leaves. Upon her head sat a long-faded white veil crown; her face was pale as paper, her steps light in a way no living person's could be. With each footfall, a thin crust of frost blossomed upon the ground, and a sweet, decaying scent spread through the air.
"Moon rise... moon set..."
"The bride... seeks her bridesmaid..."
The Ghost Bride's song echoed down the empty street; every note was like a rusty blade scraping at the listener's eardrums. She dragged a pitch-black coffin, its bottom grinding against the stone slabs with a squealing creak that set one's teeth on edge. Moonlight washed over that deathly white face, and Golden Sand flowed within her hollow eye sockets.
The Golden Sand at times gathered into a sun-shaped pattern, at times twisted into the shape of a spider. Her head suddenly rotated a full 180 degrees toward her back, torn mouth corners splitting all the way up to her ears.
"Careful, don't let the filth notice you."
Ian yanked Cam into the shadow of a doorway, his Magic Wand tracing out a Triple Concealment Spell before him. He could feel Cam trembling—the young Hermit Association member had never witnessed such a horrific scene.
"That coffin..." Cam's voice was thin as a mosquito's buzz, "it's prepared for the living..."
Though terrified, he was still a Wizard—his mind remained sharp, able to make accurate judgments.
Just then.
The Ghost Bride abruptly halted. She mechanically raised her arm; black liquid dripped from her fingertips, gleaming oily under the moonlight. That twig-like finger pointed straight at a two-story house ahead—Ian's Magic Vision instantly caught the faint Magic Power fluctuations inside; at least two Wizards were hiding there.
"The bridesmaid... is dressing up..." The Ghost Bride's song suddenly rose, turning into a shrill screech. "Golden comb... silver comb... lend them to me!"
Her chest cavity once more split open like petals; dozens of golden threads shot forth, like venomous serpents piercing the wooden door. Screams of agony erupted inside at once. Two men in nightgowns were dragged out of the window, bodies ensnared by the golden threads. They swung their Magic Wands desperately, but every Spell was absorbed by those writhing lines, which only made the cables swell thicker.
The two Wizards were brutally shoved into the coffin. The Ghost Bride slapped the lid three times with her clawed, talon-tipped hand, and immediately a soul-chilling shriek rose from within the coffin.
"They're black-market Magic Potion dealers!" Cam recognized one of them. "How could they..."
"A Wizard's flesh and blood are rich in Magic Power." Ian analyzed coolly, his gaze locked on the Ghost Bride's every movement. She was the Ghost Bride, and her target was clear—all Wizards lodging in the city.
"So Wizards are the perfect feed, then."
Ian pondered; by this point he had already drawn his conclusion—the Evil God Embryo could no longer endure the long gestation and wanted to cultivate its own minions to harvest nourishment for it. That was why it had created this Ghost Bride, and the Temple clearly had realized this as well; that was why they had seemed so grim in the afternoon.
Meanwhile.
The Ghost Bride started moving again.
"Over there, over there too—Wizard."
Seeing this, Cam cried out in horror, utterly aghast. Of course he knew every Wizard in this city; though they did not belong to a single organization, contact between Wizards was far more frequent than most people imagined.
After all.
In this world, Wizards were a minority; wherever they went, they naturally banded together for warmth, at least on the surface. It was thanks to Cam's explanations as a local that Ian could determine what groups the Ghost Bride was hunting—her next target was, first and foremost, Wizards with special Magic talents.
The first was an elderly Wizard living alone, named Maureen, who made his living through Astrology and prophecy. He was bent over a desk studying a complex star chart, candlelight reflecting off his deeply wrinkled face.
Suddenly, the candle flame shook violently, and the room's temperature plummeted.
"Who's there?" Maureen looked up, on guard, Magic Wand in hand.
The door swung open without a sound. The Ghost Bride drifted in, red veil billowing.
"You... are not human!? Damn, an Undead? So there really is a Necromancer operating in the city!" Maureen hefted his heavy Magic Wand, voice trembling as he chanted a Defense Spell.
"Light Barrier!"
A barrier of golden light formed instantly before him. Yet the Ghost Bride merely raised her hand, letting her fingertip skim the air, and the barrier shattered with a glass-like "crack."
Step by step she closed in, crimson eyes locking onto Maureen.
"No... don't come any closer!" Maureen backed away in terror. "I'm an officially registered Wizard! You can't—"
Before the words were finished, the Ghost Bride's fingertip had already pressed to his chest. A blood-red thread spread outward from his heart, crawling like a web across his entire body. Maureen's eyes bulged; a gurgling sound rose from his throat, and his Magic Wand slipped from his grasp. His body did not topple; instead, some invisible force slowly lifted him, suspending him in mid-air.
The Ghost Bride dragged a pitch-black coffin out of thin air; its lid swung open by itself.
With a gentle push, Maureen's body slowly slid into the coffin. Yet his eyes were still rolling, his lips slightly parted, as though he still wished to speak, though it was an excruciating struggle.
"You... can't... bury me... alive..." He forced out the words with great effort.
The Ghost Bride lowered her head, gazing down at the man within the coffin; on that hollow face, an eerie "smile" actually surfaced. She slowly shut the lid, and it closed with a dull, heavy "thud."