Chapter 247
Ash
Deep beneath the ground, in the very depths of the earth, there was a vast and intricate complex — a labyrinth of steel, pipes, and humming machinery. The air was thick with the scent of oil and metal, and the constant hum of engines reverberated through the walls like a heartbeat. Flickering red lights traced along the ceilings, casting the corridors in an unsteady glow that made every shadow seem alive.
Thick cables snaked across the floors, pulsing faintly as if carrying something more than just power. Massive gears turned behind reinforced glass panels, and streams of steam hissed from the vents, fogging the dim pathways. The walls themselves seemed to breathe — expanding and contracting with the rhythm of the mechanical veins that ran through them.
At every corner, strange markings were etched into the metal, symbols that seemed both ancient and technological, as if the place had been built by minds that revered both science and unknown. The deeper one went, the colder it became, and yet the metallic air carried the faint scent of something burning — a reminder that the machines never rested.
Rooms branched off the main tunnels: some filled with humming generators and glowing screens, others with metal tables lined in perfect order, each one stained by time and blood. The sound of dripping water mixed with the low mechanical whine created a symphony of unease, the kind that made the silence between noises even worse.
In certain chambers, enormous metal structures rose like altars — twisted combinations of technology and devotion. Strange devices hung from the ceilings, and cables extended into the floor like roots feeding on the earth itself.
It was more than just an underground base. It was a monument to something dark, where machinery and faith had fused into a single, breathing organism of steel and shadow.
Walking through a quiet corridor deep beneath the earth—far below the layers where most were forbidden to tread—moved a solitary figure. His steps were unhurried, echoing faintly against the cold, metallic floor. The air here was heavy, saturated with the scent of rust and oil, and each exhale left a faint mist that lingered and disappeared just as fast as it came.
A dark cloak hung from his shoulders, its edges brushing against the ground, concealing his form entirely. Only when he passed beneath the dim, red glow of a warning light did his face become visible—and it was a face that had been seen before.
Long, flowing raven hair spilled over his shoulders, so black it seemed to absorb the light around him. His eyes—deep, oceanic blue—glimmered with an almost otherworldly calm, the kind that spoke of centuries rather than years. There was something royal in them, a quiet power that demanded reverence without a single word. Looking into them made one feel small, fragile, as if standing before an endless sea.
His features were sharp, sculpted too perfectly to feel entirely human. Yet what drew the gaze most was his smile—gentle, almost kind, but carrying an edge that promised ruin. It was the sort of expression that could comfort and terrify in equal measure.
It was Mr. Graveyard.
As he moved deeper through the corridor, the faint hum of the machinery around him seemed to change, as though the entire underground network was aware of his presence. The shadows stretched toward him, and the soft, rhythmic sound of his footsteps echoed like a slow heartbeat in the hollow dark.
He walked with a solemn expression, as he descended deeper and deeper into the earth. The air grew colder with every level, and the dim lights lining the corridor flickered like dying embers. The hum of machinery faded into a distant thrum, replaced by an eerie stillness that seemed to press against his ears.
Eventually, he stopped.
Before him stood a door—a goliath of steel and black alloy, towering so high it seemed to vanish into the shadows above. Its sheer size defied comprehension; standing before it, he looked like an insect before a monument built by gods. The surface was engraved with countless lines and symbols, shifting faintly as if alive, pulsing with a dull crimson glow that ran through the metal like veins.
He lifted a gloved hand and pressed it against the cold surface. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a deep, resonant hum, a small section of the colossal structure rippled—metal folding in on itself until it shaped a much smaller, human-sized door.
The change was silent but profound, like watching an ancient creature stir from slumber.
Without hesitation, he pushed the smaller door open. The air that drifted out was colder and it carried the faint scent of something older—something that did not belong to this world.
Mr. Graveyard stepped inside.
He stepped into the room, and his footsteps echoed—the hollow sounds that seemed to travel endlessly through the black void. The air was thick and stale, unmoving, as if this place had been sealed away from the world for centuries. The darkness was absolute, deeper than shadow, swallowing all light and form until even his sharp, discerning eyes could see nothing.
For the first time in a long while, even he felt small.
The silence was suffocating—only the faint rhythm of his own breathing and the occasional echo of his shifting boots against the unseen floor. It was the kind of quiet that made one question if sound itself still existed.
He stopped just a few meters from the door, the faint outline of it the only thing separating him from total oblivion. He stared into the void, with his expression unreadable and his oceanic eyes trying to pierce through a blackness that refused to yield. Nothing move nor stirred.
And so he waited.
Minutes bled into hours. The cold crept into his bones, and the air grew heavier, but he did not move. He stood there—still as stone, patient as death itself—his presence the only sign that something living remained in this forsaken abyss.
Sixteen hours passed.
Then, at last, the silence broke.
A faint sound— a tremor that was not his own—rippled through the darkness. The air shifted, and somewhere deep within the void, something ancient began to stir.