Bound To The Dead: The Deceptive Class-E Farmer-Chapter 59: What Sleeps Beneath

The stables behind Carreon’s outer castle walls were quiet, lit only by dim lanterns hanging from the beams. Most of the other horses were asleep or resting. Only one stall had movement, Gaspar’s.

The albino horse shifted restlessly, his pale coat catching the light. He snorted and kicked lightly at the wooden floor, clearly unused to being saddled again.

Arthur stood beside him, tightening the worn leather straps with careful hands. He was twenty now, broader than before but still quiet in his ways. His bald head gleamed with sweat as he worked, and there was a tired look in his eyes.

"Easy, Gaspar," he muttered. "It’s been a while, huh?"

Gaspar let out a low, uneasy sound, almost like a complaint. Arthur paused, letting his hand rest on the horse’s neck.

"You haven’t been used since..." He stopped, jaw tightening. "Since he died."

The horse neighed softly this time, not restless, just... present.

Arthur gave a small nod. "Yeah. I miss him too."

He began brushing down Gaspar’s coat. Each stroke was slow and deliberate. As he worked, his voice dropped to a whisper.

"Remember those early mornings? Me, you, and him heading to the market with the cart full of vegetables? Sugarcane stacked high, crates tied with rope we swore would hold but never did."

He gave a faint chuckle. "He always smelled like earth and sweat. Said it was the scent of honest work."

Gaspar responded with another small whinny, then nudged Arthur gently with his head.

Arthur smiled.

"And you... You always tried to run faster than the wind. Thought you were some royal steed."

The horse let out a snort, almost like a laugh.

Arthur’s smile faded a little. He placed a hand on the horse’s neck. "He was a good guy. Honest. Always helped everyone even when he didn’t have much himself."

Gaspar lowered his head.

"He’d be proud of you, old friend. Still standing. Still ready."

A voice called from behind. "Arthur. We’re leaving at first light."

Arthur nodded. "Yes, horse is ready. Bags too."

Arthur gave Gaspar one last pat. "Tomorrow we will see what Bulcan looks like."

—------

The sun had just begun to rise when the small caravan departed from the capital city of Carreon.

Mikaela led the group, her long coat drawn snug over her travel gear. Her face remained calm and unreadable, but her sharp eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead. The wind pulled at her hair as she urged her steed, Gaspar, into a steady pace.

Gaspar moved with surprising grace despite months of being untouched. It was as if he understood the weight of the journey.

Mikaela’s grip on the reins tightened slightly. The reins felt worn and familiar beneath her fingers, carrying a weight she didn’t voice.

Beside her rode Sheena. Her hand never strayed far from the dagger at her side. She had said little since they left, only nodding when Mikaela gave instructions. But her gaze rarely wandered far from her surroundings.

Behind them, Arthur rode in silence. He carried a spear strapped to his back and a small pack slung across his chest. Every now and then, his eyes would lift to the road or the horizon, but mostly, they stayed on Mikaela.

—------

That night, Isaac stands alone on a watchtower overlooking the rebuilt section of Bulcan’s walls. The stars are visible, but the land feels heavy, quiet in a way that unsettles him.

"Tiny."

The little locust crawled down to his shoulder and answered, ’Yes, Master?’

Isaac extended a finger. "I want you to go to the southern fields. The old farmland."

Tiny tilted his head. ’That’s where the dark mist is, right?’

"Yes. I need eyes there. Quiet ones. Watch the mist, the soil, the wind. Report anything strange."

Tiny flapped his wings once. ’Understood.’

Isaac nodded. "And Tiny... stay hidden. If something’s wrong out there, I don’t want you getting caught."

Tiny saluted with one leg. ’You got it, Master.’

Then with a gentle leap, he flew into the night, silent, sharp, and loyal.

[Corruption Level: 29%]

[Stage: Inner Struggle]

[Status: Inactive]

[Effect: Voice manifestation is expected, only when overdrive is active. Expect addition in physical changes]

[Note: When energy reaches 2% below, the unknown entity will take control.]

[Unlocked Skill: Death Reel. Abyssal Bind. Abyssal Drill]

[Next Threshold: 50% – Stage: Dominance Shift]

[Preview: Dual control engaged.]

Isaac leans on the stone ledge, thinking.

"If I reach 100%... what will I become?"

Each time, the voice inside grows louder. Each time, something shifts inside him, a small piece of who he was gets harder to find.

"Will someone pull me back... or will I stop wanting to be pulled back?"

His hand flexes, the black markings on his arms slightly pulsing. He frowns.

"I can’t keep relying on that power. It’s not strength. It’s a debt."

—-----

Far to the south, beyond the quiet fields of Bulcan,

Tiny hovered above the farmlands. The world beneath him was gray and still, drowned in a thin, curling mist that moved like it was breathing.

The once-fertile earth stretched in every direction, lifeless and cracked. No weeds. No worms. Not even rot, just emptiness.

The locust landed lightly on a warped fence post and froze.

A new interface flickered to life in Isaac’s mind as their relay synced.

[Swarm Visual Relay – Active]

[Location: Southern Farmlands]

[Soil Composition: 99.7% Inert]

[Life Signature: None Detected]

[Foreign Energy Detected: NECROTIC]

→ Origin: Artificial

→ Pattern: Spreading Slowly

Isaac stood silently on Bulcan’s outer wall, eyes closed, breathing through Tiny’s feed, seeing through Tiny’s lens. What he saw turned his stomach.

The nearby trees stood hollow and lifeless, their bark pale like sun-bleached bone. The wind shifted, but not even the branches moved.

And then, movement...

Not in the open.

Beneath.

A slight ripple passed under the soil like a breath through lungs that should not breathe. The mist curled tighter over a low hill, like it was being summoned rather than drifting.

[Subsurface Shift Detected]

→ Depth: 1.3 meters

→ Radius: Expanding

→ Anomaly: Movement without heat, heartbeat, or mana

[Note: Pattern resembles "seeded decay."]

Tiny buzzed upward fast.

And that’s when Isaac saw it, just for a second through the relay:

A thin crack formed in the dead field. It didn’t break with sound or pressure. It unfolded, like old paper being peeled back by unseen hands.

The swarm relay vibrated violently in his mind:

[URGENT – Swarm Relay Spike]

[Message from Unit: TINY]

"Something is buried. Not alive... but not resting."

The vision cut out.

Tiny was gone from the link.

Isaac’s eyes snapped open. The night wind tugged at his cloak, but the cold he felt was internal.

"...We thought the mist was killing the land," he whispered.

"But it’s feeding it."

His hand clenched at his side, fingers tightening over the stone ledge.

"Something’s been planted down there."

And whatever it was...

It’s starting to wake up.