Global Fog Survival

The two people from the novice gift pack seemed to have a trait that made them immune to extreme emotional outbursts. Colin’s main concern was that these two slaves might lose control under the extreme emotions induced by the “wailers,” attacking indiscriminately and even turning on him. Surprisingly, he found that while he himself couldn’t resist the urge to strike, the two slaves, although seemingly affected, still adhered to their duty of protecting him without losing control.

He wondered if this immunity was common to all recruited characters or just unique to the novice gift pack. Another possibility was that, despite always considering his personal attributes to be superior to his subordinates’, they were actually quite similar. If he could withstand the pressure, so could they. This realization stemmed from a peculiar sense of superiority he had.

Shaking his head, Colin decided not to dwell on this unanswered question. He took out some water from his backpack to replenish his strength and then pulled out a parchment scroll.

“The mission is about three-fifths complete. If nothing unexpected happens, the rest should be on the second floor.”

Colin rubbed his throbbing temples, scratched his itchy ears, and shivered. He could hear the heart-wrenching sounds coming from the second floor. After the deformed monsters on the first floor revived, the ones on the second floor naturally started howling as well. The walls and distance muffled these sounds, so they did not harm him much but were very annoying.

“Really? Why are you all howling so loudly?”

Colin took a deep breath, stood up from his chair, picked up the iron axe and lantern, and said, “Your uncle property manager is coming to see you…”

“Let’s go. Once we’ve dealt with the mutants on the second floor, this will be over.”

The staircase leading to the second floor was near the church door and was a spiral staircase. Colin had seen it before when he executed the deformed monsters, so he didn’t need to spend much time looking for it. The stairs were covered with a red carpet thick with dust, each step leaving a clear footprint.

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Colin glanced upwards to ensure no monsters were hanging from the ceiling, watching him. As he climbed the stairs, his eyes took in the religious relief carvings on the walls and the unique patterns woven by vine thorns.

The relief carvings were severely worn, but they depicted people performing various acts of penance: some bore thorns while crawling forward on their knees, some walked barefoot on sharp spikes, and others had stones hanging from their necks as they bent over and walked.

Even with the details missing, Colin could tell they were engaged in some form of alternative prayer. The word “suffering” came to his mind, as did the figure of the “Mother of Suffering and Thorns,” a high entity who seemed to be associated with the thorny patterns and the people’s actions.

He wondered how this high entity was connected to the current state of the world and was curious about the world’s history. But for now, they had reached the second floor, and Colin put his thoughts aside.

The layout of the second floor was different from the single hall of the first floor. A corridor with many rooms on either side replaced it. Most of these room doors were broken, and eerie howling emanated from within.

“The second floor’s many rooms dilute the sound effects. If these monsters were all on the first floor, it would have been much more troublesome earlier.”

Colin felt somewhat lucky that when the initial aberrations occurred, the monsters seemed to run around wildly. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be scattered here and there. Without food or other reasons, they all entered a dormant state, which he had just broken as an outsider.

BAM!

Colin kicked open a decayed door, and the light revealed a small “wailer” roaring at him. By now, Colin was quite immune to these “small tantrums” and was not significantly affected in the short term. Without hesitation, he swung his axe, restoring peace.

After killing the “wailer,” he didn’t leave immediately but instead examined the room. It looked like a standard office with a twenty-square-meter space and a large desk. Despite being covered in dust, the dark brown desk was still sturdy and in good condition. Colin tapped it, noting its quality surpassed his own at home.

The only damage was some bite marks on one corner, but it didn’t affect its usability.

“This desk has a connection with my home,” he muttered, spotting a matching wooden chair in the corner, “and so does this chair.”

With his home furniture dismantled, he could use some replacements. Colin opened his inventory and stored the desk and chair, which took up two slots and were labeled [Lightly Damaged Thorn Desk] and [Thorn Wood Chair].

Of his initial 16 slots, he had used more than half. Each slot seemed to ignore weight limits, only being restricted by quantity and size. Similar items could be stacked in one slot, like bread, level three water, or venison, but not desks and chairs.

Otherwise, Colin would have moved all the benches from downstairs to his home. Those could serve as beds and were far more comfortable than the creaky bed in his wooden hut.

Even if he didn’t need the extra chairs, selling them to other survivors could earn him money. “My mind is drifting more and more,” he thought, realizing he needed to rest soon to avoid further distraction and maintain vigilance.

He noticed that his mental state was deteriorating, as evidenced by the [Mild Mental Damage] status on his slaves’ status bars. They were losing their sanity and required immediate rest to avoid significant distraction and decreased ability to repel attacks.

Despite this, the hunting continued methodically. Unfortunately, most of the dozen rooms Colin entered were empty or had severely damaged items. The best ones were already in his inventory.

“Too bad expanding the backpack requires over a hundred mist points. Otherwise, I’d empty this place…”

Colin sighed, regretting the small inventory capacity. Even broken items could be sold or used as firewood since denser wood burns longer.

“Next room, let’s go.”

Colin led the way out of the room, but suddenly froze. There were no more rooms ahead; they had reached the end of the corridor. Only a window remained, beyond which loomed the ominous gray fog, glowing faintly.

There was no way forward.