The wooden frame of our old cart creaked ominously every time its wheels sank into the deep ruts of the muddy road.
Behind us, the thick fog closed in like an opaque curtain, completely isolating the town of Happy from the rest of the world.
Ahead of us, the view was chilling.
The town seemed almost deserted.
The windows of the dark wooden houses were heavily barricaded with thick iron or oak planks, and not a single silhouette could be seen behind the dusty glass.
There was no sound of footsteps, no laughter of children, not even the distant meow of a stray cat.
Nothing but a dead, suffocating silence that weighed heavily on our shoulders with every step we took.
Above our heads, there was no sun.
There never had been.
The sky was an eternal prison, an unyielding dome of dense black clouds that choked out the slightest hint of light and held the world in a permanent twilight gloom.
Alya walked silently by my side, her right hand instinctively brushing against the hilt of her black sword.
Her dark eyes swept across the rooftops and shadowed alleyways with animal-like alertness.
She remained completely mute, but her posture spoke volumes: she, too, could feel that something was profoundly wrong with this place.
Before we could even reach the first official houses of the town center, a tall silhouette detached itself from the encroaching mist and stepped out to meet us.
It was an older man, wearing a long leather trench coat weathered by storms, with a tarnished sheriff’s star pinned firmly to his chest.
His face was deeply lined with wrinkles, and dark circles hollowed his eyes, betraying countless sleepless nights.
Despite his visible exhaustion, a sudden flicker of relief washed over his features the moment he saw us.
“Greetings, travelers.
Eden… Alya…” His voice was low, barely a whisper, as if he feared awakening a sleeping monster.
“We’ve been expecting you.
We were the ones who sent the letter.
The Calamity you’ve heard about… it’s here, inside the town of Happy.”
I came to a halt, letting go of the cart’s handles.
I adjusted the collar of my jacket, eyeing the man with deep suspicion.
The fact that he knew our names and our reputation before we had even officially entered proved that the situation was desperate.
I stepped down from the path, walked over to him, and gripped his hand firmly to greet him.
“Can we get more details on the situation?” I asked, cutting straight to the point.
The sheriff cast an anxious glance toward the soot-black sky, where the usual gloom was already beginning to thicken into a deeper darkness.
“Not out here,” he replied sharply, pulling his heavy coat tighter around himself.
“Follow me to my quarters.
‘The hour of the Calamity’ is drawing near, and no one should be left outside when the shadows lengthen.”
On our way, I never stopped observing our surroundings.
The further we advanced into the heart of Happy, the stronger the unease became.
The few businesses we passed had their doors locked down with massive padlocks.
It was a ghost town inhabited by the living—an open-air prison where fear served as the only law.
When we arrived at the sheriff’s office, an austere room smelling of old paper and cold coffee, the man sat down heavily behind his desk. Get faster updates on g.com.
He buried his face in his hands, visibly terrified by what he was about to tell us.
“A Calamity has been tearing this place apart for some time now,” he began, his voice trembling.
“It’s decimating my town, one by one, and we are completely powerless to stop it.”
“What kind of Calamity?” Eden asked.
The sheriff raised his bloodshot eyes toward him, a look of pure, raw terror gleaming in his pupils.
“A Calamity you can never forget…” he whispered.
“It has forked teeth, claws as long as swords… a true demon straight out of hell.
It doesn’t just kill.
It massacres.
It mutilates.”
His descriptions were vague, driven purely by panic.
For a hunter, fear makes for a terrible investigation report.
Having no actual technical details regarding the creature’s anatomy or patterns, I slammed my fist onto the desk to snap him back to reality.
“That’s too vague,” I said, my voice cold and serious.
“I can’t hunt a ghost.
Can I look through the ledger of the dead, read the written testimonies, and speak directly to the townspeople?”
The sheriff seemed entirely overwhelmed by the situation.
He bolted upright and began searching through a massive mess, rummaging through piles of folders, overturned drawers, and papers scattered across the floor, muttering incomprehensible words to himself.
Seeing that it would take him hours to find a single useful document in this chaos, I gave Alya a quick nod.
Still entirely silent, she followed me with light, agile steps as we walked out of his office to catch some air and inspect the surroundings on our own terms.
“We’re heading over to the quarters we were assigned,” I called back to the sheriff over my shoulder.
“If you find those documents, send them our way.”
“No problem… No problem, go ahead,” he replied without even looking up from his mess.
Outside, the cold had intensified beneath the heavy mass of black clouds.
We made our way toward the closest house next to the sheriff’s office, hoping to gather some immediate information from the neighborhood before locking ourselves in for the night.
Arriving in front of a small building with tightly shut shutters, I noticed a faint sliver of yellow light filtering through the cracks of the wooden door.
Someone was inside, awake and terrified.
I raised my hand and knocked firmly three times against the heavy wood.
“Hello!
Can we come in?
We’re the Calamity Hunters.
We just want to ask you a few questions,” I said in a loud, reassuring voice.
A heavy, suffocating silence followed my request.
“No!
No way!
It’s almost time for the Calamity’s hunt!
And you want us to open up?
So we can be next on its list?
Never!
I’d rather die!”
The sheer cowardice and terror of the townspeople were starting to grate on my nerves.
In this world, locking yourself away and trembling had never saved anyone.
I sighed, crossing my arms, and replied calmly, my tone a bit too detached and philosophical:
“Whether you open this door or not… you’re going to end up dying one day anyway.”
The moment the words left my mouth, I realized how they sounded.
It wasn’t exactly the kind of speech that put people at ease.
I rubbed the back of my neck, slightly embarrassed, and muttered under my breath:
“Well… that was a blunder.”
The voice inside, completely ignoring my comment, started up again, sounding more terrified than ever:
“You want us to open up?
Come back after the Calamity has made its choice!
Only after!
Once it takes someone else, the rest of us will be safe until tomorrow!”
This selfish, macabre logic thoroughly annoyed me.
I brought my boot down in a sharp, loud stomp against the floorboards of the porch, making the man flinch behind the wooden wall.
“Is the Calamity really that terrifying?” I called out, intentionally provoking him.
“I’ve never even seen it!” the resident cried out through muffled sobs.
“But the others have talked about it… and that’s more than enough to make me lose my mind!”
“Fine.
I’ll come back later, then,” I said, turning on my heel as a dark, ironic smile crept onto my lips.
I paused one last time on the bottom step of the porch, glancing back over my shoulder at the barred door:
“When you see it… tell it I said hello.”
A terrified whimper was my only answer.
Leaving the man to his paralyzing fear, Alya and I set off toward the isolated house the sheriff had provided for the duration of our contract.
The hour of the Calamity’s choice was fast approaching, and the night in Happy promised to be a very long one.