Chapter 906: The Cemetery
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 906: The Cemetery
"Reporting, my Lord. Based on intelligence from our informants across the West District and various other sources, we have indeed discovered several anomalous incidents."
At dawn, just as the complex cleanup and integration work from the previous night had concluded, the faint scent of blood still lingered in the streets, unwashed by the fine drizzle. Tyren had already arrived before Muen, carrying the information he had compiled throughout the night.
Despite his massive frame, he now stood with a respectful bow, making even the fierce demon tattoo on his chest appear almost affable.
Times had changed. Tyren, who had once lamented being the prey in a hunter's sights, was now profoundly grateful that he had bitten that particular hook and been forced into the role of a loyal dog for the man before him.
This was especially true after the previous night. A powerful mage had appeared out of nowhere among Raskin’s men, and Tyren had expected a bloodbath. Instead, the "Great Dark Emperor" before him had neutralized the threat with effortless ease. From that moment on, Tyren felt a surge of loyalty as vast and unending as a torrential river.
Being a dog was good. Being a dog was wonderful.
A wild wolf roaming the darkness... how could it ever be as well-fed or safe as a hunter’s hound?
Moreover, while Tyren still couldn't quite grasp the Dark Emperor's ultimate goal, he could vaguely sense an intent to consolidate the capital's underworld and use it to gather specific intelligence.
In such a vast territory, a high-and-mighty figure like him certainly wouldn't manage things personally. He would appoint a proxy—much like the Rat King of Belland.
Everyone knew the Rat King was the Dark Emperor's most loyal subordinate, his representative on the surface. If even a rat from the sewers could ascend to such heights, then he, the Porsis Behemoth...
Tyren’s heart raced with ambition. He quickly pushed those stray thoughts aside, bowing even lower as he focused on his flattery.
"Since I wasn't sure which type of anomaly you were looking for, I have compiled everything I could find here."
"That was fast."
Even Muen was slightly taken aback.
"Between seizing territory and absorbing new recruits, you actually found the time to organize this? I thought I’d be waiting much longer."
"Your Excellency jokes. The tasks you assign are our highest priority; everything else must give way. I wouldn't dare delay for a moment."
Tyren held the stack of intelligence with both hands, his posture incredibly low. For a fleeting second, Muen almost thought he could see a tail wagging frantically behind the man.
He’s far too eager for a promotion.
"...I appreciate the effort."
Muen’s lip twitched slightly, but he said nothing more as he took the documents from Tyren.
"In that case, let’s go take a look."
The morning light grew brighter, yet it failed to fully penetrate the thin mist and rain. Muen looked out over the city; the entire place seemed shrouded in an indescribable gloom.
"I hope we find something..."
*
Knock, knock...
The dilapidated door of the small wooden shack was struck, the dull thuds echoing clearly in the desolate, remote outskirts.
The knocking continued for three or four rounds without a response. Judging by the shack's state of disrepair, it looked long abandoned; no amount of knocking should have elicited an answer.
Yet, the person at the door was persistent.
Knock, knock...
"Which bastard is it?!"
Finally, the occupant could take no more. After the fifth round of knocking, the rickety wooden door—which looked ready to collapse at any moment—creaked open.
The door didn't open fully. An old man peered out, showing only half his face as he stared warily at the visitor.
"Who are you!"
"Hello."
Muen smiled and tipped his top hat slightly, showing no sign of impatience despite the wait.
"I'm from Porsis."
Porsis was the name of Tyren’s gang. In these dark regions where the light didn't reach, a gang's name was often more influential than the official Security Team.
"Porsis?"
The old man looked suspicious and didn't believe him immediately. It wasn't until Muen produced a silver coin bearing the Porsis gang's mark that the wariness on the old man's face abruptly vanished.
"What do I call you?"
"Just call me Bruce."
"Bruce... never heard of that name."
"I joined recently. It’s normal that you haven't heard of me."
"Tsk, sending a green brat like you to brush me off? Damn that Tyren."
The old man cursed under his breath but opened the door to let Muen in. Limping, he carefully lifted a pot of warmed wine from the hearth and poured Muen a small cup.
Muen caught the scent of the low-quality liquor. It was pungent, but he downed the cup in one go regardless.
The spicy burn had barely reached his throat before he suppressed it completely, his expression remaining unchanged.
"Oh? Not bad."
The old man raised a broken eyebrow in surprise and chuckled. "The quality of my wine is poor, but it’s distilled. It’s got a kick. Not many can knock it back like that."
"It’s just a cup of wine..."
Muen chuckled and shook his head. He thought to himself that if he could survive An’s sleeping black tea and his Senior Sister’s disastrous potions, he certainly wouldn't be bothered by a bit of cheap booze.
"And how should I address you, old gentleman?"
"I forgot my name a long time ago. People around here call me the Crippled Priest. You can call me that, or if it’s too much trouble, just 'Cripple' is fine."
"The Crippled... Priest?"
Muen had noticed the old man's left leg was lame the moment he entered, but only now did he see the faint glint of a Holy Cross Pendant on his chest.
Glancing sideways, he spotted a dust-covered Goddess statue tucked away in a corner of the room.
"If you're a priest, why didn't you seek help from the Church when you encountered an anomaly?" Muen looked back, curious. "Why ask a gang for help instead?"
"Heh? The Church?"
The Crippled Priest patted his leg, his tone a mix of mockery and self-deprecation.
"I got into some trouble when I was young and was kicked out long ago. Why would they care about me? They wouldn't even believe a word I say. But you gangsters... as long as the protection money is paid, you show up when you're supposed to. Even if you did send an unreliable kid."
"If we take the money, we do the job. That is the quality of an excellent gang. I expect they will continue to operate this way in the future."
Muen maintained his smile, his professional demeanor impeccable.
"Tsk. Hearing that kind of talk from a gang of murderers, arsonists, and kidnappers... what a goddamn joke."
"I’m equally surprised to hear such foul language from a priest."
"..."
The Crippled Priest took a sip of wine and looked up at Muen. "You... you're an interesting one."
"In my eyes, you are quite the character yourself, old gentleman."
"Hmph. Flattery won't get you out of here. Since you're here, you're going to help me handle this mess. Otherwise, all that protection money I've been paying will have been for nothing."
"Of course."
Muen straightened his hat. "That is exactly why I am here. Please, tell me, old gentleman—what exactly is this 'eerie matter' you reported?"
"..."
The Crippled Priest fell silent for a moment. Under Muen’s questioning gaze, he said nothing more. Instead, he set down his wine cup and used the table to push himself up.
"It’s hard to explain with words. Follow me. See it for yourself."
"Seeing it firsthand would be for the best."
"Heh. I just hope you don't piss yourself."
The Crippled Priest lit a lantern and grabbed a heavy book from a nearby wooden cabinet. Muen looked closer and realized it was a Church Codex.
The priest tucked the Codex into the breast of his tattered overcoat, held the lantern in his other hand, and stepped through the back door into the vast mist and drizzle.
Muen followed close behind.
The moment they stepped out of the shack, a chill swept over them. The mist here was denser and the cold more biting than elsewhere.
Muen scanned the surroundings. Against the nearly pure white backdrop, rows of uneven stone slabs stood upright, creating a hair-raising, eerie atmosphere that stretched to the edge of his vision.
It was a cemetery. A very large one.
"What, scared?"
The Crippled Priest glanced back at Muen.
"Hardly."
Muen shook his head. "I’ve seen scenes far more terrifying than this. A mere cemetery won't frighten me."
"Heh, you've got guts. I just hope you keep that courage. Don't go adding to my troubles by dying before the job's done."
The Crippled Priest grumbled, his stream of profanity never ceasing, though his movements remained practiced.
He set the lantern down and produced a wooden staff from somewhere. He tapped the ground as he moved forward, passing grave after grave as if searching for something.
"Found it!"
Before long, the Crippled Priest let out a slightly excited cry and slammed the staff hard into the ground.
Wooo—
Instantly, as if his action had disturbed something, a sharp wail echoed through the cemetery!
"Here it comes!"
The Crippled Priest tossed the staff aside and scrambled a few steps to the side, his eyes fixed on the spot he had struck.
"This is..."
Muen was still wondering what was happening when the soil suddenly cracked. A pale hand burst forth from the soft earth!
Wooo— Wooo—
The wailing grew clearer. The soil, softened by the prolonged rain, was being pushed and churned from below. Soon, a figure with limbs twisting unnaturally like a marionette crawled completely out of the earth and stood before Muen.
It was a woman, her long hair disheveled and her body completely naked. But she was not alive; she was a corpse. Muen could clearly sense that there was no life within those distorted, malformed limbs.
Yet, despite being a corpse, her movements were incredibly agile. The moment she crawled out and noticed the living person before her, her wailing turned into an excited shriek. Her limbs twisted as she lunged at Muen with startling speed!
"A... Zombie?"
Muen’s pupils constricted as he instantly identified the creature.
A corpse affected by "pollution" or some mysterious power that suddenly "reanimates," gaining strength and speed that often exceeds what it had in life, driven by a frantic hunger for the vitality it lacks—that was a Zombie.
Zombies weren't particularly powerful, but they rarely appeared in normal cemeteries, which surprised Muen slightly.
Surprise aside, Muen’s fingers twitched as he prepared to...
Thump!
Before Muen could act, a dull sound—like a watermelon being smashed—rang out. A foul mixture of red and white exploded before his eyes, and the Zombie collapsed.
He stared wide-eyed as the Crippled Priest calmly used a rag to wipe his Church Codex... This time, Muen wasn't just slightly surprised; he was genuinely shocked.
"Is that... how you're supposed to use that thing?"
"I don't use it for praying anyway. Might as well put it to use bashing heads, right?"
"...Fair point."
Muen then looked down at the corpse, which was now completely motionless. "So, you can handle these things yourself?"
"Of course. Who do you think I am?"
The Crippled Priest spat disdainfully. "When I was young, I could take down trash like this with one punch. I didn't even need a Codex to 'purify' them."
"If that’s the case, why did you ask the gang for help?" Muen’s lip twitched.
"Because the reason I asked for help isn't because the dead are walking."
The Crippled Priest seemed tired. He found a relatively clean spot in front of a tombstone and sat down heavily, showing no concern for whether he was desecrating the dead.
"Zombies are rare, but in all my years as a gravekeeper, I’ve run into them a few times. I just put 'em back to sleep and move on. Nothing to get worked up about.
The real reason I called you lot isn't the fact that they're moving. It’s... the identity of the corpses."
"Identity?"
"Yes."
The Crippled Priest pointed at the woman’s head. Though half of it had been crushed, her pale, hideous face was still somewhat recognizable.
"I’m the gravekeeper here, and the undertaker too. Every body in this place was buried by my own hands. You could say I know what’s above and below this ground better than anyone."
"But..."
The priest paused, his expression turning grim.
"I don't recognize this woman."
"..."
Muen’s heart tightened.
But the priest wasn't finished.
"It’s not just her. There are many bodies here I don't recognize anymore... It’s as if this cemetery has suddenly been filled with a lot of strange corpses."