Varek bolted the moment Tovar relayed Garrik’s report, but he skidded to a stop as the fog came into view, his amber eyes widening in fear. Tovar, struggling to keep up, finally caught up — just in time to see Varek rushing back toward him.

  Before he could react, Varek grabbed him by the collar and yanked him backward. Without a word, he dragged Tovar away at full speed. Only after retreating a hundred meters did he finally stop.

  The fog had halted its advance, lingering like a dense, unmoving wall, its milky veil swallowing everything beyond it. Even those with heightened perception couldn’t pierce through its depths.

  “Why did we retreat? What is this fog?” Tovar asked, his voice uneasy. Varek’s fearful expression still burned in his mind.

  Varek didn’t have concrete answers. He only knew what had been passed down — what everyone knew.

  “It’s forbidden,” he murmured. “Always has been. No one who enters ever comes ba—” He cut himself off, frowning. That wasn’t entirely true.

  He corrected himself. “Some have returned. They spoke of dark clouds above a castle at the base of a mountain range, its walls shrouded in this very fog.”

  Tovar frowned. “If we know where it leads, shouldn’t we con —”

  “I’m not finished,” Varek cut in sharply. His voice dropped as he shook his head. “That fog marks the domain of the Navis family.”

  Tovar stiffened. Varek turned to him, one brow raised. “You do know who Gawain Navis is?”

  Tovar swallowed hard and nodded.

  A heavy silence settled between them before Tovar hesitantly asked, “Then… What about Garrik?”

  Varek clicked his tongue in frustration. That was the question, wasn’t it?

  After a long pause, he exhaled sharply. “There’s nothing we can do right now. We’re returning to the facility — this needs to be reported to the raid leader immediately.” His gaze flicked back to the fog, his expression grim. “Trespassing into Navis’ domain is forbidden. But maybe Black Wolf can do something about it.”

  His voice was uncertain, but it was the only option they had.

  Black Wolf was Third Tier, after all.

  Inside the fog.

  Bones had no sense of time. Had it been twenty minutes? An hour? It all blurred together.

  At first, he ran, urgency driving him to find an exit. But the deeper he went, the more the fog disoriented him, twisting his sense of direction. He slowed to a walk — then, after a while, settled into a light jog.

  The thick mist shifted unpredictably, parting in places to reveal glimpses of a distant castle bathed in pale moonlight — its curtain walls and turrets barely visible through the haze. Bones estimated he could reach it within half an hour at a steady pace. Yet after only a few steps forward, he suddenly found himself face-to-face with the wall.

  He skidded to an abrupt stop, hands slamming against the cold stone. A shiver of unease ran through him. His head whipped around, his back pressing against the wall as he listened, half-expecting his pursuer to appear just as suddenly as he had. If he had been transported here in an instant, what was stopping Garrik from doing the same.

  A voice echoed somewhere in the fog — faint, distorted. It sounded distant, yet so had he been just moments ago.

  He scanned his surroundings — left, then right. The fog stretched endlessly in all directions, a suffocating void swallowing everything. Apart from the wall at his back, nothing felt real. He had a choice to make. Which way?

  With no other landmarks to guide him, he made his decision. He picked left. Keeping one hand against the rough surface, he moved forward, careful not to lose his only point of reference.

  Elsewhere, Garrik also caught sight of the castle’s turrets in the distance. He had been running for half an hour, yet the walls remained just as far as before. Frustration boiled over, and he spat out a string of curses.

  He had made a grave mistake — rushing into the fog when he should have known better. The Growlers always took precautions near these parts, avoiding the mist entirely. Garrik himself had never seen it, but he knew what it meant. Varek had warned him, and Seifer — the Black Wolf — had warned Varek. The fog was forbidden.

  But retreat wasn’t an option. The castle was his only path forward, though he dreaded what lay within. With a sharp breath, he pressed on, eyes locked on the fleeting glimpse of stone towers emerging through the mist.

  Bones continued his cautious trek along the wall, every sense on edge. The air felt thick, pressing down on him, and in the silence, every sound was amplified — the scuff of his boots, the flutter of his robes.

  Then, something moved.

  His gaze flicked through the fog, searching, until he caught sight of a shadowy figure, hunched, moving on all fours.

  “Could be a Phantom Prowler… Hope it’s just a ghoul,” Bones muttered, pressing his back harder against the stone as he edged away, slow and deliberate.

  He kept moving, carefully putting distance between himself and the shifting shape lurking in the fog. When he felt he had enough space, he slid down into a sitting position. His back leaned against the cold wall, legs buckling as his head slumped backward, resting against the stone. For a moment, he allowed himself a brief respite.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  It was nighttime. Earlier, through the fleeting gaps in the fog, he had glimpsed the moon high above the treetops, casting its pale light upon the castle. But now, as he sat there, the night itself seemed to have vanished. No glow, no stars — just an all-consuming wall of dense, shifting mist.

  No. That wasn't entirely true.

  Bones slowly rose to his feet, turning to face the wall. He pressed his hand against the stone’s rough surface, reassuring himself it was real. The fog wasn't the only thing out here.

  “Need to find a way in,” he whispered — then froze.

  Something had entered his space. Slowly, he turned his head and locked eyes with a level forty-three vampire spawn, standing motionless where the mist had thinned. Its lips parted slightly in shock, mirroring his own expression.

  Neither moved, caught in a silent standoff as seconds crept past.

  For a fleeting moment, Bones entertained the thought that it might not attack. Then, as though snapping from a trance, it suddenly launched itself forward.

  Reflex took over. Bones barely had time to raise his staff, jamming the shaft between himself and the creature’s snapping fangs. The impact sent a sharp jolt through his bones as the spawn snarled and thrashed, pushing against him with unnatural strength.

  He held firm — just for a moment — then abruptly shifted his weight and sidestepped.

  Thrown off balance by its own momentum, the spawn stumbled forward, crashing into the mist-covered ground.

  Bones retreated another pace as Murdok materialized beside him.

  The hulking golem now wielded a silver greatsword, already in motion. As the vampire spawn scrambled to rise, Murdok’s blade cleaved through its body in a single, effortless strike. The momentum carried him forward, and the sword struck the wall beside the spawn with a thunderous crack.

  Bones winced as chunks of stone crumbled to the ground. His gaze darted between the fallen spawn and the newly formed fracture in the wall. He stepped closer, scrutinizing a tiny aperture in the stone.

  Slowly, he raised a hand and forced a finger inside, widening the gap. Then he yanked his hand back, stepped aside, and motioned toward Murdok.

  The golem didn’t need further instruction. He took a running start, and Bones wondered — briefly — if he intended to break this weapon too.

  With a powerful thrust, the greatsword’s tip drove into the wall. Half of the blade buried itself in the stone.

  “Again,” Bones commanded.

  Murdok wrenched the blade free, took another step back, then charged once more. The second impact shattered through, boring a hole just wide enough for Bones to squeeze through.

  Dismissing the golem, Bones cast one last glance at the fog before pushing his way inside.

  Within the Castle.

  Bones tumbled through the opening, landing headfirst onto cold stone tiles. His senses came flooding back — the dampening effect of the fog lessening.

  The interior of the castle exuded a suffocating pressure pressing down on him. He pushed himself to his feet, brushing off the dust while taking in his new environment.

  The hallway stretched before him. Wall-mounted sconces dotted the passage, their flickering light casting restless shadows, giving the place a dungeon-like feel. Every surface was coated in grime, while abandoned spider silk draped from the ceiling like neglected tapestries. Insects skittered freely across the floor, undisturbed.

  He was considering his path when a shrill cry echoed from deeper within. His head snapped toward the sound. He hesitated — only for a moment — then advanced.

  The wailing intensified as he neared a bend. Peering past it, he found the source.

  A female vampire spawn crouched low, feeding on a rat.

  She wore simple, tattered clothes, their fabric frayed with age. Her thin frame trembled slightly as she tore into her meal.

  Bones glanced down at himself. His own clothing wasn’t much better — layers of fabric, slashed and torn, barely holding together after countless battles. His skeletal frame barely filled them, making him look just as ragged as the spawn before him.

  Crunch.

  His gaze snapped back to her.

  She had finished feeding. Tossing the rat’s remains aside, she lifted her head and sniffed the air.

  Then, crimson eyes locked onto him.

  Her face twisted into a snarl, blood smeared across her chin, fresh droplets trailing from her lips.

  Bones tensed, fingers tightening around his staff as he stepped into the open.

  The spawn inched forward on all fours, moving with predatory grace before suddenly propelling herself toward him. This time, he didn’t entertain the thought of hesitation. The moment she lunged, he raised a hand and cast Boneyard.

  Jagged bone spikes erupted from the stone floor, shooting up in a vicious formation. The spawn shrieked as they impaled her limbs, halting her momentum mid-leap. She crashed to the floor, writhing in confusion and pain, but her crazed, crimson eyes remained locked onto him. Bones leveled the tip of his staff at her face.

  Chaos Bolt. He mouthed the words silently.

  Dark energy crackled through the air before slamming into her. Her entire body convulsed, veins blackening as they slithered across her face like living tendrils. The bone spikes crumbled to dust, but she barely noticed — thrashing, clawing at her own skin in a desperate attempt to rid herself of the corruption. Her shrill wails pierced the air, an unsettling sound even to him.

  Bones summoned a lance at his side, preparing to end her suffering — when a chorus of shrieks echoed from the depths of the corridor.

  His gaze snapped toward the darkness. More were coming.

  Without hesitation, he flicked his wrist, sending the lance hurtling downward. The spawn's cries were cut short as the weapon struck true. A wisp of fading essence rose from her corpse, which Bones absorbed immediately, reclaiming a sliver of mana.

  The shrieks grew louder. A new sound joined them — the pounding of feet, the rush of a dozen figures closing in.

  Bones shifted, pointing his staff toward the hallway. He fired a Chaos Bolt, watching as it disappeared into the gloom. Did he hit anything? What was coming for him?

  He steadied his stance as the first shapes emerged.

  A mass of vampire spawns, crazed, entranced, and fixated solely on him.

  Bones cursed under his breath and cast Bone Storm — twice in rapid succession. A violent drop in mana made him stagger, but he recovered quickly, hands moving with practiced precision. He controlled the swirling bone shards, launching them as soon as they reached lethal size.

  A barrage of jagged, rotting-green projectiles tore through the horde, perforating their bodies like needle cushions. Many fell, some staggered back to their feet, and a few almost reached him.

  He activated Soul Eater whenever possible, siphoning fragments of their essence to sustain himself. But he couldn’t hold out forever. It was time to withdraw.

  Bones stepped back, raising his hand. Shadows flickered beside him as his two golems materialized — Murdok to his left, Skully to his right.

  The moment they appeared, they surged forward, meeting the vampire spawns head-on in brutal melee.