In the cemetery, the old caretaker once again lifted his head and glanced at the nearby guardhouse.
He had reported the agitation of the corpses in the morgue to the cathedral in the form of a rapid dispatch, but he had yet to receive a response—at this point, with the entire city shrouded in a strange, thick fog and the sunlight bizarrely vanishing from the sky, the cathedral clearly didn't have the energy to pay attention to the abnormalities in a small cemetery.
"I have to rely on myself..." the old caretaker muttered, tightening his coat, which had a leather lining and metal inserts that made a slight friction noise. "This fog is spreading far..."
The crackling sounds of friction and knocking broke the dead silence in the cemetery, and under the dense fog, the coffins on several nearby morgue benches seemed to emit a slight vibration.