the era of calamities

The cemetery was shrouded in thick darkness, as if even light itself refused to enter. The graves, devoid of flowers, seemed abandoned for ages. No trace of visitors, no sign of mourning. Only the disturbed earth, the sword marks on the ground, and the fallen trees twisted at unnatural angles bore witness to a recent presence. A violent one.

And there lay what remained of one of the architects of this devastation.

If someone had told me one day that I’d end up rummaging through a dead man’s head, I’d have taken it as a bad joke. Yet here I was. If I was wrong, I’d just look like a psychopath. So I really hoped I was right.

I crouched down, eyes wide open, trying to make sense of this mess. There, tiny, almost imperceptible unless you knew where to look, was one of the answers to my questions. I took out my scalpel, using it to bring the thing closer to my eyes. I was hesitant—definitely not crazy enough to touch it with my bare fingers.

Oh, but what was I seeing?

A parasite. No bigger than a fingernail, but its size was irrelevant. What mattered was that I had finally gotten my hands on a piece of the mystery. A small piece, but a crucial one.

It was time to leave. If more Executors showed up, I’d have a hard time getting out in one piece. But before leaving, I approached my grave. Or rather, the hole where I had woken up.

"Death, you’ve been a good advisor. I promise you, soon enough, I’ll be sending more clients your way."

Now that was settled, which way should I go? The municipal cemetery was at the border of Astoria. If I walked south, I’d reach the city walls. Beyond that, a horde of Calamities awaited me—maybe even the mastermind behind all this chaos. The idea of charging in, solving everything with my fists, was tempting. But what was the point in being impatient? They would surely come after me since I was aware of the truth, and when that happened, our paths would cross.

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