Chapter 1: The Grave
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 the world. It seemed to hide everything in its enclosed space, creating a sacred place for the dead.
A dense sweet breeze stirred inside of this place, flying off the beautiful 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 town harm.
Monsters and evil villains always seemed to cause the town troubles, creating problems for the collective community. Stealing, killing, nothing was above them, it seems, and these young heroes ventured out to stop their villainy.
But more should have come to this new hero's grave, as only a measly 6 people showed up to grieve for this hero that fought so bravely. Even though the body wasn't there yet, the ground of the grave should be filled with civilian gratitude.
The people who let some young soul go out and fight on their behave should at least grieve over the hero's grave. But at most, when these brave heroes' deaths are announced by the Adventure's 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 show slight expressions of sorrow, but everyone else just doesn't seem to mind.
Then, when the bodies are transported to the graveyard, it is 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, Mors Shu had become used to seeing people ignoring these poor adventurers. There was usually a constant rate of about thirty heroes dying per year, defending against whatever was out there.
They then come over to the cemetery in batches every month since the Adventure's Association usually had to deal with something. Paperwork maybe? Mors didn't know, nor did he really care about the Association since they never treated the dead body kindly.
Usually, stripping them of all valuable things and pile all the excess into a cart with all the things they didn't view as valuable. Mostly memorabilia or broken weapons or armor, which Mors guarantees that he buries with these heroes.
Also, since he knows who has died in advance, he can make the gravestones for these heroes before they arrive at their final resting place. Always hoping that the souls of these heroes approve of his preparations. Most people mock him for thinking that ghosts exist, as heroes should just have moved on to a better existence. But Mors heavily believes the heroes continue to protect the town 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 been 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 Association's carriage.
Standing by the corroded iron gate, Mors watched the shifting trees sway 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 so 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 seemed to be on a sightseeing adventure. 'No one seemed to respect the dead anymore,' Mors thought 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's face. Mors had to contain his unbridled rage as the person in front of him was the Association's District Adventure Disposal Officer and could remove Mors from his cemetery. Paramelo's 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.
What's worse is that the scum was a direct relative of the local Association's overseer, so Mors couldn't get Paramelo replaced. So just bottling up his anger, Mors quickly signed the paper agreeing to receive the bodies. Which brought a smile to Paramelo's 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, they usually just left to go partying somewhere. Mors usually felt better when they left, as Paramelo couldn't 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 slips on the toe of the poor soul. It seemed to be the wept for the 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 town. Everyone else that sleeps in these shallow graves just gets the tears of the poor grave digger. His heart poured 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 removed the flower-ridden cover for the grave, and gently moved it aside. Mors usually liked 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's disregard for their great deeds. He poured his feelings into digging every grave he was required to dig.
After a few minutes, the hole seemed deep enough, and he went back to the cart and picked up the hero's body. Taking the body back to the hole, he gently deposited the body down to the grave. Usually, unless people were rich, caskets were rare as they had to be made with special materials. Walking back to the cart, he looked for a bag labeled [Machitis], which was the dead person's 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't dig the grave deeper, as his old bones didn't work like they used to. Trying to supplement it, he wandered 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 breathe 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 who caused their deaths. Those evil monsters 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.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
Unknown_AR
Unknown_AR I guess I am starting again.... This one really interests me.
Hi! Future me here... I decided to rewrite it so each chapter is easier to read and has more descriptions... I rushed the project for the carnival and didn't produce the best content... But hope you enjoy!
Have a wonderful day!
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