Duncan had found himself in a peculiar predicament. Instead of coming alive in some ominous cave, he’s stuck inside a body within a public facility that temporarily houses corpses.
As to the man conversing with him currently, it’s probably the seasoned caretaker in charge of the facility. The old man referred to the disturbance as a “restless” phenomenon and didn’t appear afraid.
This told Duncan some useful information and further confirmed to the captain that this body was useless to him.
Even without considering the extreme weakness of the body, running around with a sunken skull would be difficult. Of course, the world did have “undead” beings, and the sailors on Tyrian’s seemed to fit the bill considering they do have some missing parts, like half a skull or missing heart. However, being openly active in a city-state was not an option for such beings, which did not meet Duncan’s needs.
While he assessed the situation, the old caretaker outside the coffin remained vigilant and tense.
The old man’s double-barreled shotgun stayed aimed at the coffin while the grass powder scattered on the ground beforehand emitted a pale glow. His voice remained steady, but the prolonged grip of his fingers on the shotgun handle had turned slightly white from the tension.
He awaited the restless soul in the coffin to exhaust its final obsessions and rationale, anticipating the chatty deceased to grow weary and accept their death. According to his experience, this process usually didn’t take long under the strong calming effects of the lantern and powder. A restless soul often took only half an hour to find peace.
Typically, the deceased would grow increasingly disoriented during the conversation, quickly forgetting their words. Usually, the voice in the coffin would devolve into indistinct mumbling, eventually turning into hoarse sleep talk. Normally…
But why did the person in the coffin seem to become more and more spirited as they talked?!
“Do you know where I am right now? Ah, I know this is a place for storing bodies, but I mean the location… you see, I couldn’t see my surroundings when I was brought here.
“How’s the weather today? It must be quite cold, right? I think I heard the wind outside; frosty nights are tough…
“What time is it now? Have you eaten? Are there any colleagues around you?
“Any recent news in the city? I don’t remember much about the past… Oh, do you know someone named Scott Brown? He seems to be a folklorist or historian. One of my friends is close to him…”
The old caretaker felt sweat beads form on his forehead. He could swear to Bartok that he had never encountered such a strange situation in his entire professional career. A restless corpse showed no signs of resting but instead became more and more lively like a living person after he performed a soul-soothing ceremony!
This brought to mind the recent disconcerting rumors in the city-state and stories related to the “return of the dead.”
Could the boundary between life and death truly have developed a flaw?
“Sir,” the elderly caretaker tightened his grip on the shotgun, his voice becoming slightly more serious, “you’ve already said enough. If I were you, I’d quiet down and honestly return to rest now; otherwise, when the sun rises, you’ll be in for a rough time.”
Duncan, inside the coffin, thought about it and replied somewhat helplessly, “Actually, I’d really like to cooperate with you, but I just can’t sleep at the moment… How about you help me open the lid and give me a sedative?”
“You’re expecting too much…”
The elderly caretaker replied gravely, but at that moment, a sudden and loud banging on the cemetery gate interrupted his next words.
Who could be visiting at this late hour?
The caretaker looked in surprise towards the source of the noise, only to see several figures in black coats standing beneath a street lamp outside the tall, carved gate. The gas lamp’s light shone on them, casting long shadows in the rear.
One of the figures raised their hand, displaying something in the street lamp’s light.
It was a triangular metal emblem, symbolizing an emissary of the god of death, Bartok.
The elderly caretaker’s heart stirred, and he instinctively glanced back at the new coffin.
For now, the voice inside the coffin had gone quiet.
After some hesitation, the old man turned around and walked briskly towards the cemetery entrance.
The towering cemetery gate opened with the sound of rattling chains and creaking door hinges, allowing the old caretaker to better understand the newcomers under the dim light of the street lamps.
Three men and one woman, all dressed in thick, pitch-black coats with similarly wide-brimmed hats. As they stood silently in the night breeze, their attire and quiet posture evoked images of crows perched beside tombstones at midnight.
As the old man looked up at these uninvited guests, they also gazed back at the somber elderly gravedigger. Soon, one of the shorter men stepped forward and raised the triangular emblem before speaking solemnly, “The peace of death will eventually protect us all. By the order of the city-state church, we are here to remove a deceased person who should have just been brought to this cemetery.”
“A priest of the death god?” The elderly caretaker was subconsciously skeptical, frowning slightly at the triangular emblem in the other’s hand, “Gatekeeper Agatha left just a few hours ago, and she didn’t mention any other priests coming here to guide the dead, and besides… it’s midnight, not a suitable time for guiding the dead.”
“Special circumstances. The deceased needs to be transported to a safer location,” another uninvited guest spoke. A woman of medium height with cold, rigid facial features and thin lips had stepped forward, “Please cooperate, it’s a matter of life and death, and we cannot afford any delay.”
Hearing the words “special circumstances” and considering the persistent voice inside the coffin, the elderly caretaker’s heart stirred, and quickly dismissed his doubts.
It appeared that the restless occupant of the coffin was indeed somewhat special, and the church had already taken action. Although the old man didn’t know how the church priests had made their judgment, the professionals had arrived.
He didn’t appreciate outsiders disturbing his graveyard, but since the other party was an official priest holding the emblem of the god of death, there was no need for him to obstruct them further. He only desires to resolve this trouble as soon as possible.
“Follow me,” the old man muttered and turned to lead the way into the graveyard. “You’ve arrived just in time.”
“Just in time?” One of the tall, muscular men in black robes caught up and asked, slightly puzzled, “Why do you say that?”
“The body has already started to stir. Hah, it’s been chattering nonstop, growing more lively with each conversation. I even suspect it will cross the first boundary and become an undead – that would be troublesome. The nearby residents won’t like this news,” the old caretaker shook his head. “Nobody likes the undead, especially Frost people. It reminds them of that cursed battleship, filled with the undead…”
As the old man grumbled complaints along the way, the four people in black exchanged glances, seemingly taken aback.
However, the thin-lipped woman soon shook her head, signaling them to be patient.
As the old caretaker led the group away, the short man who had previously displayed the church emblem tossed the item to the ground since – it disintegrated into dust and dispersed with the wind upon contact.
The group quickly traversed the small path in the graveyard and arrived at the temporary holding area for the deceased. It’s a bunch of neatly arranged platforms holding rows of caskets, and under the illumination of the old caretaker’s lantern, they appeared especially disconcerting.
But this didn’t frighten the old man. After confirming the grass powders he scattered were still emitting a faint pale glow, he breathed a sigh of relief and pointed to the latest addition: “This one is what you’re looking for. It was brought here tonight.”
The four people in black exchanged glances and the thin-lipped woman approached the platform, frowning as she examined the coffin, “…Is this it…?”
“Maybe,” Duncan replied casually from inside the coffin, “What are you here for?”
The woman’s eyes widened, startled by the voice from the coffin. The other three men were also visibly surprised. They glanced nervously at each other, and the tall one muttered, “Something’s not quite right…”
“What’s not quite right?” The old caretaker, who seemed to have sharp hearing, asked curiously, “Can’t you handle it?”
“Of course, we’re here to deal with this matter,” the woman in black replied immediately. She looked at her three companions, appearing to quickly weigh her options, then nodded to the old caretaker, “Next… you’ll need to step away for a moment.”
