Poetry
At the end of the year 401 of the Black Iron Calendar, a massive plague broke out in Green Forest City, in the Kalsa Federation.
No one knew where the virus had come from. In an instant, it spread throughout the city. It was highly contagious, with symptoms appearing within three hours of infection, and a fatality rate of one hundred percent.
Worse still, the corpses gained immense strength after death and developed a ravenous hunger for the flesh of the living. They were called "the walking dead."
Had some extraordinary force not kept the virus from spreading beyond the city, it would have been all too easy for it to bring about the destruction of the entire world.
Even confined to a single city, the disaster created hundreds of thousands of walking dead in the blink of an eye, consuming most of the Federation's resources. The Investigation Department and the military had no choice but to rush reinforcements to the area and seal off the surroundings. Even Holy Xibalba and Arkham were alarmed.
Against that backdrop, the minor ghoul and Vampire unrest in Kimbert City hardly seemed worth mentioning.
Even though Ryan and the others could produce evidence that the cultists were performing a ritual to summon an Ancient Being, ordinary people saw the supposed rule of Ancient Beings over the planet as nothing but myth and legend.
Besides, even those with a little knowledge of the matter did not believe that a handful of Worship Eye Church remnants could pull off such a grand ritual.
And with the walking-dead crisis looming, all kinds of reinforcements were inevitably delayed.
The people of Kimbert City had fallen into utter despair. The actual number of people killed by ghouls and Vampires would not exceed ten thousand, but the psychological pressure