novelraw Chapter 475: A City Captured by the Strange Fog
Chapter 475: A City Captured by the Strange Fog
Dong... dong... dong...
In the distance, through the deepening twilight, the tolling of a bell echoed.
Parents led their crying children home, shopkeepers shuttered their windows one after another, and anxious residents drew their curtains tight.
Soon, the streets emptied, leaving behind nothing but scattered litter, the echo of the tolling bell, and the indistinct shouts of city officials.
A bright light burned in nearly every window, illuminating all of Belfast.
But this radiance was overshadowed by anxiety and fear.
The city fell silent, save for the tolling bell and the shouts that carried on the air.
...
Port Roadster, shrouded in a fine drizzle.
Landon tore his gaze from Belfast, letting it trace the darkening coastline until it rested on the lighthouse among the reefs.Its bright beam guided returning ships, but at this hour, there wasn't a single vessel in the bay—save for the one recently reported as anomalous.
But there was no one left alive on it.
The strange fog, thickening over the sea, was rolling toward Belfast, and the Night's Watch, left at the port to deal with the anomaly, now faced a third problem: the advancing fog was hindering their search for the epidemic's source.
The first two problems were that the source remained unfound, and the number of infected passengers was unusually high.
There was some good news: the epidemic had been successfully contained to the passenger ship from the mainland, preventing its spread.
Crews and passengers from other ships, along with the dockworkers, stood in long lines, waiting to be inspected by the Exorcist United Organization.
Tap, tap, tap...
Landon glanced at the sailing ship moored in the harbor, nearly swallowed by the darkness.
The sharp, frequent tapping of his heavy boots betrayed his impatience.
Darkness was falling fast, but the inspection of the dockworkers, crews, and passengers was only half-complete.
They couldn't allow thousands of uninspected people into Belfast—it would be a catastrophe, a disaster that would wipe out the largest city on the Allen Peninsula.
Fortunately, the port buildings and the moored ships could accommodate everyone.
For now, before the strange fog arrived, they needed to inspect as many people as possible and get them out of Port Roadster.
"Damn this weather!"
Landon swore through clenched teeth. A puff of vapor escaped his mouth, briefly warming his frozen nose.
He could only vent his frustration on the weather.
The anxious wait of the thousands gathered in the port lasted no more than ten minutes, perhaps even less. Then, the lighthouse beam, stretching out to the open sea, suddenly flickered several times and began to fade.
Darkness thickened over the sea, and something was moving within it, approaching Belfast.
The lines, which had been barely maintaining order, erupted into chaos. People screamed in panic and rushed the cordon. Cries of terror filled the air: "The fog is coming! Run!"
Bang! Bang!
The deafening gunshots silenced the port for a moment. Snapping back to their senses, the crowd remembered the Exorcist United Organization's instructions and scrambled for the port buildings.
Landon grabbed the arm of a sailor running blindly toward him and bellowed, "The anomaly is closing in! Everyone, get inside the buildings!"
He then pointed to the nearest building and yelled at the sailor, "Get in there!"
Soon, those running for the port buildings realized there wasn't enough room for everyone and started rushing toward the moored ships instead.
The lighthouse on the reef flared back to life, and a mile from shore, at the edge of its beam, a strange, swirling fog appeared, like some monstrous beast slithering across the water's surface.
Landon stood frozen, oil lamp in hand, watching the sea. People streamed past him, but he remained motionless, like a rock amidst a raging tide, his lips moving as he counted down the seconds until the fog reached the shore.
With less than thirty seconds before it reached the port, the people had finally cleared the piers, leaving only a few lone figures still in sight.
Tearing his eyes away, Landon ran to a middle-aged man struggling with a heavy suitcase and pulled him away from it. "Leave your things! They won't eat your luggage!"
Shoving the man toward a wooden shed, Landon suddenly glanced at the quarantined vessel where the epidemic had started.
Several figures in bird-beak masks emerged from the cabins. A thick fog swirled out behind them.
"This way! Run! Faster!"
Landon shouted to them. The masked figures turned, glanced at the approaching fog, and sprinted toward him.
Landon backed toward the shed door, waiting until all his colleagues had rushed past and ducked inside before taking one last look at the port.
The moored ships had vanished into the thick fog, becoming sinister, blurry silhouettes.
Within the fog, vague shapes began to appear... things that hadn't been there before.
Suddenly, a hand grabbed Landon's shoulder and yanked him into the shed.
Slam!
The door slammed shut.
Twenty or thirty people were crammed into the small shed, their ragged breathing echoing in the confined space. Huddled together, they were packed as tightly as sardines in a tin.
One of the bird-beaked figures slid the bolt home and stepped back. At that same instant, the world outside the window was completely swallowed by the thick fog.
Five or six oil lamps flickered, their wavering light as unreliable as failing electric bulbs, stirring a sense of unease.
Several people in the shed let out stifled gasps.
Landon handed his lamp to a colleague, then yanked the curtains shut with a rustle, blocking the view outside, and stepped away from the door.
The lamplight grew dim, as if the fog were seeping through the cracks in the walls, veiling everything in a haze.
Clank... clank...
From the fog-shrouded port came the ominous clanking of chains.
Something was prowling outside.
"Merciful Lord, protect us..."
A quiet, whispered prayer rose up in the shed, soon joined by other frightened passengers and crew members. Their murmuring blended into a low drone that filled the cramped space, drowning out the strange noises from outside.
Landon sensed something was wrong and moved to stop the praying...
...
The ocean liner 'Asterlan'.
Lower deck, third-class cabins.
"Mama, the light in that house went out," a little girl said, pointing to one of the port buildings that had suddenly plunged into darkness.
"Shhh..."
The woman hugged the girl tightly in fear and pulled her away from the porthole. Another passenger shoved a table against the window, blocking it from view.
Only two dim oil lamps remained lit in the cabin.
...
The Blackgold District.
A drunkard, oblivious to the bans and warnings, lay unconscious on the side of the road.
When the fog rolled in, a deeply buried sense of alarm made him crack open his eyes.
The fog enveloped him, and a figure appeared before him.
The drunkard reached out and grabbed the figure by the pant leg.
"Hey... you... what... time... is it..."
The drunkard's voice cut off abruptly. In the ensuing silence, there was only a soft, wet chewing sound.
...
From a bird's-eye view, the strange fog could be seen creeping up the mountainside, leaving a dead, lifeless silence in its wake.
Every so often, a house would be plunged into darkness. Occasionally, a scream would pierce the night air, but it was quickly swallowed by the silence of the encroaching fog.