Chapter 1 The Mist

Everywhere was mist. The whole world seemed to have sunk into a chaotic, greyish-white fluid. Everything within sight blurred at the edges in this fog—the distant city, the nearby roads... all became ambiguous and indistinct.

Having only been active underground for a short time, the surface world was now completely unrecognizable.

Agatha hurried back to the surface from the Second Waterway and stood at the transit station exit, somewhat stunned by the street conditions. The roads were now completely devoid of pedestrians. In the dense fog, even the nearby streetlights were just floating, hazy glows in mid-air. Apart from that, all that could be seen were some dark red lights moving slowly through the fog, interspersed with the sounds of steam engines running—the warning lights atop the steam-powered walkers were flashing.

"The City Guard and constabulary have rushed to every intersection. All personnel movement between districts is strictly prohibited. Civilian vehicles are banned from the roads. Those unable to return home in time have been arranged to take shelter nearby," a church pastor who had come to meet Agatha reported. "Most of the Nightfall Sanctuaries are already full. We can only work with the constabulary to divert people to churches, warehouses, and the nearest subway stations."

The pastor paused, then sighed heavily.

"Alas... more people could have been sheltered in places like the libraries, but the accumulation of books has started to show signs of corruption, and all the libraries have been sealed off... The fog rose just as most of the city's factories were changing shifts. Too many people were far from home."

Agatha didn't respond, simply slowly withdrawing her gaze from the street and thoughtfully looking up at the sky.

Heavy clouds and the city's own mist obscured the sky. The light was as dim as twilight, and in the chaotic, indistinct sky, the sun was nowhere to be seen.

"It's daytime..." she said softly.

"Yes, it's daytime, but this strange fog may be interfering with the power of the sun," the pastor said with a grave, tense expression. "The corruption in the libraries is because of this..."

"Nothing can interfere with the power of the sun during the day—as long as Anomaly 001 hangs in the sky, even if the clouds block the sunlight and the city is as dark as night, the sun's power will not weaken," Agatha gently shook her head. "In my judgment, this fog is not the cause; it may just be a 'phenomenon' triggered by a larger crisis... How is the situation on the mountain?"

"The cathedral is now packed with people," the pastor said quickly. At the same time, several steam-powered walkers with flashing warning lights clanked to a stop in the open space near the transit station exit. Between the walkers was a car bearing the church's banner. "Your ride is here. Let's go back to the mountain first; we can talk on the way."

Agatha and the pastor got into the car. The steam walkers shone powerful lights into the thick fog, and the car started, moving far slower than normal on the barely illuminated road towards the cathedral on the mountain top.

"When the fog rose, many worshippers and tourists were stranded on the mountain. The cathedral sheltered everyone it could. Those who couldn't fit were arranged in the old church museum next door. City Hall also arranged shelters, so no one was left outside," the pastor continued to report to Agatha in the car. "Archbishop Ivan has stabilized the situation and prevented panic from spreading inside the cathedral. He has been using psionic communication to stay in touch with churches throughout the city since just now. So far, there has been no pollution caused by mass panic..."

A low mechanical rumble came from outside the car window. Agatha turned to look in the direction of the sound.

She saw several long aerial tramways extending from above the mountain road, passing through the thick fog and pointing into the distance. Towering support pillars held up the tracks like giants, and a pitch-black cargo container hung from one of the tracks, rumbling into the depths of the fog. The red warning lights around the cargo container were like many eyes, flashing in the mist.

It was the transport system of the Boiling Gold Mine. The raw Boiling Gold ore extracted from the mine was transported via those massive cargo containers and mountain tracks to the crushing, sorting plants, and great furnaces at the foot of the mountain.

"...The mine tracks are still running?" Agatha asked in surprise, turning to look at the pastor beside her. "Didn't the workers evacuate?"

At the same time, the scene she had recently witnessed deep underground, the ancient mine shaft that had dried up decades ago, surfaced in her mind.

"The workers must have evacuated," the pastor said, looking surprised to see the cargo container on the track, but still replying with certainty. "The mine church has confirmed it. What's going past now is probably the last batch of ore sent up from the excavation area, automatically arranged by the differential engine—you know, the Boiling Gold ore extracted is sent away after staying in the storage area for a while; it's set on the program tape. The machine will only follow the execution..."

A disturbing rumble suddenly came from the other side of the fog, interrupting the pastor's confident words. Everyone's gaze instantly turned towards the sound, but they only saw another pitch-black cargo container speeding from the other end of the aerial tramway—on the same track as the cargo container that had just passed over the mountain road.

"They're going to crash!!"

The pastor only had time to exclaim before a deafening crash occurred. Two cargo containers collided violently on the aerial tramway, emitting a terrifying roar and explosion. The side covers of the cargo containers were torn open, and shimmering pale golden ore rained down on the hillside. Then, as the two cargo containers swayed violently on the track, the drive wheels and auxiliary wheels came off, the axles broke, and the unrecognizable containers fell towards the valley, sparking and smoking.

A piece of debris falling from the sky nearly grazed the roof of Agatha's car, slamming hard into the roadside.

Before the people in the car could react, another chilling, terrible sound of metal tearing rent the air from above.

The aerial tramway, which had taken the brunt of the impact, twisted and deformed. The top of one of the iron towers supporting the track sparked. Taut steel beams and cables snapped with loud cracks, and then an entire section of track crashed down from above!

"Get out of the way!"

The pastor in the car immediately shouted in alarm. Even before he spoke, the convoy had begun to evade the falling object—several steam walkers scattered immediately, while the steam car in the center of the convoy suddenly accelerated and charged forward. After a few heart-stopping seconds, a terrifying rumble came from behind Agatha.

She turned her head and saw that the broken track had slammed onto the mountain road, completely destroying the thoroughfare. Two steam walkers were blocked on the opposite side of the wreckage, but luckily they were not injured—they strode on their long mechanical limbs, starting to climb the side of the mountain. White high-pressure steam spewed from the gaps in the armor plates, merging with the surrounding fog.

"Walkers Two and Four can't get through. They should be preparing to climb to the small path above to detour back to the cathedral. We don't need to wait for them," Agatha glanced back, quickly assessed the situation, and ordered. "Keep moving."

"A close call..." The pastor next to her couldn't help but wipe the cold sweat from his forehead. "Almost hit us on the head."

Agatha, however, remained silent for a moment.

Was that an accident? Or... malice?

Why would a cargo container traveling in the opposite direction appear on a mine track that should only allow one-way traffic?

The mine workers had all evacuated by now, and the operator of the track system should theoretically go to evacuate after setting the last train... The last step of hanging the cargo container on the track has a safety lock. If there are other cargo containers on the track, it will never depart... The differential engine controls this process, and a normally operating differential engine will not make mistakes. The gears and levers will faithfully execute the program set on the punched paper tape. There is no wavering between the meshing of metals.

"There might be something wrong with the mine's differential engine..." Agatha said, as if talking to herself.

And the problem may not be limited to the mine's differential engine—if libraries can be corrupted by evil spirits in broad daylight, then the scope and urgency of this change will exceed everyone's imagination.

The faint sound of alarm bells on the distant streets drifted to her ears. The chaotic and disordered cold wind swept through the empty cemetery, and the dense fog enveloped everything in sight. In this impenetrable mist, there seemed to be countless low murmurs overlapping and echoing, like the restless agitation of the dead.

The sound of a gun safety being clicked off broke the silence of the cemetery. The dim light of a lantern dispelled the shadows in the fog. A hunched old man gripped a loyal, reliable double-barreled shotgun, standing on the path like a vigilant sentinel, staring intently at the neatly arranged coffins in the fog.

The murmuring was just an illusion, at least for now. Those coffins were still obediently waiting on the mortuary tables, and the people in the coffins were still lying down obediently as well—but the strange atmosphere in the air could not escape the old soldier's perception.

He knew that something was happening. This cemetery was definitely not going to be peaceful today—some of the "residents" he "cared for" were gradually awakening.