A chilling mist lingered along the grounds of the ancient graveyard. Rusted gates and deep red trees bordered this timeworn graveyard, closing it off from from the world. It seemed to hide everything its enclosed space, creating a sacred place for the dead.

A dense sweet breeze stirred inside of this place, flying off the beatific flowers on a single grave. It was to be a new addition to the sacred graveyard. A new hero that fought bravely against whatever was causing the village harm. Monsters and evil villian always seemed to cause the village troubles, making problems for the collective community. Stealing, killing, nothing was above them it seems, and these young heros ventured out to stop their villainy.

But more should have come to this new heros grave, as only a measly 6 people showed up to grieve for this hero that fought so bravely. Even though the body wasn there yet, the ground of the grave should be filled with the civilian gratitudes.

The people who let some young soul go out and fight on their behave should at least grieve over the heros grave. But at most, when these brave heroes deaths are announced by the Heros Association, people should at least seem sad about it. What really happens is most of the people walking by in the town of Deapdenu only hold a blank expression on their face when hearing a new death. Some of the older generation should slight expression of sorrow, but everyone else just doesn seem to mind.

Then, when the bodies are transported to the graveyard, it was the job of the old gravedigger, Mors Shu, to bury the mutilated bodies of these brave heroes. Some even came with their broken sword strapped to their hands. After many years of being the gravedigger of the local cemetery for many years, Mors Shu had become used to seeing people ignoring these poor adventurers. There was usually a constant rate of about thirty heros dying per year, defending against whatever was out there.

They then come over to the cemetery in batches every month, since the Heros Association usually had to deal with something. Paperwork maybe? Mors didn know, nor did he really care with the Association since they never treated the dead body kindly. Usually stripping them of all valuable things, and piling them into a cart with all the things they didn view as valuable. Mostly memorabilia or broken weapons or armor, which Mors guarantees that he buries with these heros.

Also since he knows who has died in advanced, he can make the gravestones for these heros before they arrive at their final resting place. Always hoping that the souls of these heros approve of his preparations. Most people mock him for thinking that ghost exist, as heroes should just have moved on to a better existence. But Mors heavily believes the heroes continue to protect the village even after their bodies fail them.

Today was a new shipment of bodies to be buried. And the was meant to bury a staggering ten today. This was the highest delivery to date. So many had seemed to die recently, with the usual amount delivered being two to three. That was the usual, but ten had killed just in the last month. Had there been a monster nest raid, or was this month just a bad one? Mors questioned himself as he waited for the Associations carriage.

Standing by the corroded iron gate, Mors watched the shifting trees swayed gently in the clean breeze. The fallen golden leaves of the itia tree as they ran out of life, and wilted in the coming winter. Watching them fall, in his winter robes, Mors finally found the horse-pull carriage of bodies as it came over a hill.

Seeing the loosely piled stack of bodies on the cart, anger flashed inside of Mors before he took control of it. Turning his attention back to the thick crimson trees as to not view this disgrace. He would have run out there to fix this matter, but the guard would have pushed him back until they were at the gates, while also ”teaching ” him a lesson about manners.

Waiting for them to leisurely advance toward the rusted cemetery gates, anger started to escape Mors control as they seem to on a sight seeing adventure. No one seemed to respect the dead anymore Mors though to himself, as he paced back and forth.

Finally, they arrived before the gates and the driver hopped off the cart with a clipboard in his hands. Looking bored he looked toward the old Mors before spitting out, ”Here is this batch of dead heroes as you so call them, Seems like you will be having a busy night for you. I will leave them in care for now, but before that, sign here ”.

Extending out his hand, Paramelo practically forced shoved a clipboard into Mors face. Mors had to contain his unbridled rage as the person in front of him was the Associations district adventure disposal officer, and could remove Mors from his cemetery. Paramelos job was to make sure that these poor heroes got buried properly, but he usually ignored most of his responsibilities and constantly disrespected the dead.

Whats worse is that the scum was a direct relative of the local Associations overseer, so Morss couldn get Paramelo replaced. So just bottled up his anger, Mors quickly signed the paper agreeing to receiving the bodies. Which brought a smile to Paramelos face since he loved messing with this cranky old man. Paramelo thinking to himself, Who should care about the dead, they are dead and can do nothing against the living? Now I am finally free from this shipment, I can go have some fun in town.

Taking off the horses from the carriage, the party left the corpse carriage. Even though they were meant to help out with the burial, the usually just left to go partying somewhere. Mors usually felt better when they left as Paramelo couldn get the chance to disrespect the dead anymore. In the morning, they would come back for the cart they left.

Taking a look at the topmost body on the pile, he found the name slit on the toe of poor soul. It seemed to be the weeped for hero, as he was most likely a local. Usually the only ones who at least get some tears or anything are those who had family in the village. Everyone else that sleeps in these shallow graves just gets the tears of the poor grave digger. His heart pouring out to these poor unfortunate souls that no one seemed to care about.

Taking his shovel, he walked over to the flower covered ground and remove the flower ridden cover for the grave and gently moved it aside. Mors usually like to have a cover so he could keep the flowers as they were originally, before putting the body in the grave. Digging down slightly so he could make a pit, his tears started to flow. Remembering how he lost his friends and he had to bury them, thinking about everyone disregard for their great deeds. He poured his feelings into digging every grave he was required to dig

After a few minutes, he hole seemed deep enough he went back to the cart and picked up the body. Taking the body back to the hole, he gently deposited the body down to the grave. Usually unless people were rich, caskets where rare as they had to be made with special materials. Walking back to the cart, he looked for a bag labels [Machitis], which was the dead persons name.

Returning back to the grave, he opened the small bag, revealing broken pieces of a shield, a locket, and a small crystal. Assembling the shield fragments, he placed the cracked shield over the body, as well as the other objects into the tomb of this fallen hero. Mors was ashamed he couldn dig the grave deeper, as his old bones didn work like they used to. Trying to supplement it, he wondered over to a close flower patch, filled with blood colored roses and picked off some to place in the grave.

Taking great care, he replaced the dirt and moved the sheet of flowers back onto the grave. Then taking a step back, he started to breath deeply. It hurt him to see all the young faces, filled with such pain, and filled with so many injuries. Holding his emotions back, he walked back over to the pile and repeated the process.

After filling his hands with new holes from the flower thorns, and making his eyes run dry, he finally buried the last body. Sitting down, Mors just wondered to himself if he could ever do something… Maybe if he had the strength, he could help keep all these youths safe, or take revenge on those how caused their deaths. Those evil monster should not exist in this world for what they have done.

Taking out a flask by his side, holding back any emotions that were about to burst out, he drank to all the young heroes who never got the chance to see like anymore.

After a while of drinking and obtaining tears to cry again, Mors passed out in the middle of his cemetery, unknowing of the watching eyes around him.

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