The entrance to the cemetery was a tall, ornate, wrought-iron gate. According to legend, the Primal God, “The Night Lord,” ruled the world of death, so his insignia had always been a symbol of mortality. It was now hung high above the entrance, silently signifying that this was the land of the dead’s final resting place. The gate, reinforced with iron that had been enchanted by a third-tier spellcaster, stood firm in the cold wind. The blessing of the church’s priest caused it to emit a faint, reassuring milky white glow at night. A black-robed, slightly hunched-over graveyard keeper stood firmly at the entrance. After a moment, the cemetery gate creaked open, accompanied by the clanging of iron chains and the turning of the gate post.

The graveyard keeper gestured for Selene to walk ahead. After they passed through the gate, he closed it, his scrutinizing gaze never leaving her silhouette.

The two walked one after another along the cemetery path. Every so often, there was a street lamp, far apart, illuminating a few tombstones with a faint, yellowish glow, just enough to make out their shapes. Most of the tombstones, however, were hidden in the darkness, becoming long, blurry shadows that faded into the distance.

An eternal silence reigned here. Some unseen presence seemed to have stripped the place of any life. Even the wind, usually moving, stilled in this atmosphere. The two walked along the path, where puddles of water remained. The wind began to blow again in the darkness, but it was as silent as the dead.

Selene walked for another few minutes, then suddenly realized that they hadn’t made a sound in their journey. A second later, feeling something was wrong, the air around them became as still as stone, as if solidified.

Her lungs instantly felt as if they were being compressed by an invisible force. She tried to take a deep breath, but nothing happened. Then, a burning sensation spread from her lungs…

The graveyard keeper quietly watched her unnatural movements, then patted her on the shoulder. A lantern had somehow appeared in his right hand. Its white glow shone on her, allowing her to break free from the suffocating pressure.

Selene, not understanding what had happened, unconsciously gasped for breath, while the graveyard keeper moved his left hand behind his back, slowly speaking.

“It seems you’re not a thief, at least not a properly trained one.”

“A… A… Is this some kind of… test?”

The graveyard keeper ignored her question and replied,

“I know you, Nitya. The stranger who arrived from the forest two years ago. Unknown background. Claiming amnesia. Became an adventurer, then a ‘private detective,’ is that right?”

“Whew… Correct.” Selene gasped, even though she now realized she was out of danger, her body was still instinctively taking in air. “I just explained my intentions to the cleric…”

She couldn’t help but think to herself – this was the life of a “Ritual Magician.” In a real fight or a surprise attack, you’re just as helpless as an ordinary person.

“That’s the cleric’s job. She’s responsible to the gods and the empire, to protect the lives of the common people. I’m responsible to the people here, to protect their rest.” The old man’s voice carried a chilling weight in the darkness. “Actually, I wasn’t deliberately targeting you. The cemetery is always this quiet at night. First-time visitors usually think they’ve entered the land of the dead. Their bodies naturally stop functioning.”

The graveyard keeper explained briefly, then his eyes sparkled as he looked at Selene, who was outwardly back to normal. He asked,

“What are you doing here at this late hour?”

Selene briefly explained the commission she had accepted and the clues she had received from the divination. There was no point in hiding anything. The graveyard keeper wasn’t affiliated with the police department, the empire, or the church. They only stood on the side of civilization, inherently trustworthy.

The prerequisite was that you also stood on the side of civilization and passed their “test.”

The graveyard keeper pondered for a moment, muttering to himself.

“Divination pointing to the cemetery? This place is the land where all beings return, so there are naturally many entanglements, but they are usually significant matters, weighing life on the scale. Why would someone find themselves searching here…”

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Selene was about to give the standard, quality answer of “I don’t know” when she saw the graveyard keeper finishing his contemplation. He assessed her for a moment, then asked,

“So, you don’t really have any specific goals? You don’t even know what you’re looking for in the cemetery?”

She nodded.

“Then follow me. I’m too old to be running around with you all night. And I have some unfinished work. I’m not comfortable letting you act alone. Since you don’t have a specific need, why don’t you come with me? I’ll make a place for you in my little decorative place.” The graveyard keeper’s words sounded a bit intimidating.

“Ah, ah.” Selene was a little startled and nodded obediently.

She wasn’t actually afraid of cemeteries or the dead, but the graveyard keeper was truly terrifying. She was worried that if she refused, he might actually knock her unconscious and leave her as a decorative object for the night.

So, the two walked further along the path, turning a corner, heading deeper into the cemetery.

Schwerdt Town, though sparsely populated, had still accumulated a considerable number of dead over the decades. As a result, the cemetery had grown larger and larger. The two walked through the tombstones, stepping on their shadows, some new, some old. They came to a clearing where several circular coffins were displayed.

An ancient wooden house stood at the edge of the clearing. Small fires burned around the coffins, and a faint herbal scent filled the air. Flickering silver glows from magic circles silently danced in the night wind, as if sending quiet goodbyes to those resting inside the coffins.

“What’s your job?” Selene was suddenly intrigued by this scene.

“…. To calm the dead, ensure that they don’t turn into undead.” The graveyard keeper paused before answering.

“Isn’t that the priest’s job?” Selene was slightly surprised. “Is the church here lazy?”

“…” The graveyard keeper turned his head and glanced at her before walking towards a coffin. “There are many reasons why undead and phantom are created, and even the church can’t deal with them all. Some unlucky souls died unjustly, and they can’t rest peacefully after death. Their memories and feelings before they died remain in their brains, sometimes resonating with certain mana, causing their empty bodies to think they’ve been resurrected… Like this one.”

He raised the lantern in his right hand, illuminating the coffin beside him, drawing Selene’s attention to it.

“Thump…”

A very subtle thud reached her ears. She instinctively covered her mouth. The graveyard keeper nodded in satisfaction, assuming that she was frightened by the scene and would stay quiet for a while. But then he saw her charging forward, excitedly whispering.

“Is this an undead? Will it break out of the coffin? Does it still remember its identity in life? Did you win? If you can’t win, do you need my help? Don’t judge me by my looks. I’m actually pretty good at fighting. Do you want some specialized potions…”

She covered her mouth, not to suppress a scream, but to lower her voice.

The graveyard keeper immediately felt like he was back in the chaotic tavern. He couldn’t help but use his left hand to tap the visitor who seemed to have missed the point, urging her to retreat.

“No need, and it’s not undead, just a restless one. They don’t have reason, logic, or consciousness. They’re simply a part of the brain that’s been revived by mana, a dead body acting out.” The graveyard keeper still dutifully explained. “Only a small percentage of the dead turn into restless spirits, and only one in a thousand restless spirits can turn into true undead.”

The graveyard keeper placed the lantern on the coffin. The thumping sound that had been echoing in their ears stopped. He said nothing but stared at the coffin, which had arrived that day. It was as if he could see through the thick wooden planks and into the body that was trying to return to the world of the living.

It mourned, it wailed, it pleaded for someone to reunite it with its family. It loved its wife and daughter. They couldn’t lose their lover and father… Then, it gradually fell silent in the light of the lantern.

Everyone in the Divine Construct knew that at the moment of death, a soul would return to the realms of the gods. The so-called undead and ghosts were simply another consciousness being created, manipulated by mana to function as monsters.

Some of them might retain their memories, causing them to mistakenly think that they’ve been resurrected, that they have transformed into undead. These undead would be subject to moral constraints, restraining their natural instinct to drag everything to death. They would pretend to be who they were in life.

But there is no such thing as resurrection in the world. We all live not in a warm fairytale, but in the harsh reality.

Death is death, signifying an end to everything. Undead are ultimately just monsters that steal the corpses of the dead. They will eventually become aware of the differences between their behavior, instincts, and thoughts compared to their lives as humans. They will understand that – they are not the dead, they are distinct from him, her.

Once an undead entity becomes aware of this, realizes it is a monster stealing someone else’s identity, it is considered “mature,” eligible to embark on the path to superhumanhood.

At that point, the undead’s bottled-up negative emotions and instinct to kill would completely transcend those flimsy moral constraints. They would begin to vent their power and unleash their desires freely. Those who thought their loved ones had been resurrected and were overjoyed to accept them back, would pay a heavy price during this “maturation” process.

The graveyard keeper’s gaze became slightly vacant. He looked at the brown wooden coffin, remembering incidents from long ago. Those faded, yellowed images of tenderness, joy, coldness, pain, all rose from the depths of his heart.

“Our duty as keepers is to ensure that this one-in-a-million tragic possibility never happens.”