Global Fog Survival

Ding, ding, ding. A bell suddenly rang, breaking the eerie silence of the underground hall, as if something had been awakened. Noises came from the walls—scratching, the squeaking of rats, and the chaotic scurrying of many creatures.

But it lasted less than three seconds before unknown yet soothing music, composed of piano and organ sounds, played from the darkness, calming the turmoil within the walls.

However, the few survivors who had managed to escape the room were now drenched in cold sweat and terrified.

“Damn it… Now, we can’t escape.”

The man in the lead, his eyes bloodshot, had become somewhat crazed from days of torment. The condition of the four survivors behind him was no better. Only a stronger sense of fear and an intense will to survive kept them from showing their abnormal state.

At that moment, the man quickly scanned the area. It was a luxuriously decorated underground hall with smooth marble floors and intricately adorned walls and sculptures. Even the most inconspicuous pillars were artistically designed, with thorny vine scrolls at the top and twisted stem and leaf patterns below. The dim, cold light from the luminous pearls embedded in the pillars prevented complete darkness. Overall, it resembled a theater—a very old, noble theater stained with black and brown spots.

The air was filled with an unbearable stench of decay, excrement, and sour sweat, almost causing them to faint.

Ignoring the overwhelming smell and the mind-numbing music, the man quickly assessed the area, recalling the direction of the sounds when the terrifying creature discarded their lanterns. His gaze fell on a dark stone archway leading to an unknown destination.

If he was not mistaken, this was the way out.

They had no idea what to do once outside, nor the energy to think about it. Even if they were to die, they would rather die outside.

“Let’s hide for now.”

The man made a decision. He knew that, with the bell ringing and their exhaustion, they had no chance of escaping immediately. The others nodded, unable to argue or suggest anything different.

Perhaps, by a stroke of luck, they quickly found a large curtain next to the theater wall. The once-red curtain now hung to the ground, its rod broken on one side, clearly neglected for a long time.

Hiding here might keep them safe from the dreaded creatures.

As the man thought this, he urged the survivors to hide behind the curtain. According to the habits of those horrible creatures, they would soon gather in the hall and feast on the remaining broken survivors. After their feast, they would descend further underground. The man didn’t know what the creatures did below, but he was certain it would be their only chance to escape.

Just then, a squeaking door opened from the various stone archways.

The man froze, grateful he hadn’t decided to run blindly. Terror filled the same direction.

Quickening his pace, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his left foot. Something had pierced his foot, cutting into the flesh and drawing blood. Seeing the blood on the sharp bone that had pierced his foot, he was momentarily stunned.

Then, a surge of indescribable rage and despair burst from within him: “Damn, damn, damn, damn.”

Dragging footsteps could be heard from all directions, approaching. The man gritted his teeth, forcing himself to calm down. He pulled the sharp bone from his foot, not discarding it but putting it in his mouth. Holding the wound with his left hand, he tore a piece of cloth with his right hand and wiped the blood from the floor. Feeling it was clean enough, he stuffed the blood-stained cloth into his mouth.

Hearing the creatures approaching fast, he knew he had less than ten seconds. He glanced at the ground to ensure no more surprises, then supported himself with his right hand, ready to hop on one foot to the curtain.

But then, he hesitated. Looking at the curtain just three meters away, he bit down hard.

“Damn it, damn it, damn it. Why me?”

Anger and frustration welled up inside him. He decided against the curtain, instead rolling under a nearby table that seemed recently used. Under the table, he saw some human remains, including a familiar, chewed-up hand with two missing fingers.

“My servants.”

He immediately remembered the two servants who had accompanied him through his darkest times, the fingers lost protecting him, and the sacrifice of his servant the previous day.

Under the table, a complex mix of emotions surged—despair, fear, anger, regret, and a profound sense of powerlessness.

Their lanterns had been destroyed, their supplies confiscated, and they were kept like livestock in the dungeon, slaughtered bit by bit. Nearly a hundred slaves had been completely consumed by the previous day.

Every moment, they heard the desperate screams, gnawing at their sanity. By tomorrow, they will all be gone.

As shuffling figures entered the hall, all his thoughts were suppressed by fear.

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