Chapter 88
MR GRAVEYARD
Cold sweat had begun to form across Thor's forehead. A sheen of moisture gathered beneath his blonde fringe as his wide eyes locked onto IAM, not in curiosity, but in raw, trembling disbelief. His expression, previously steady and calm, had crumbled entirely, leaving behind only the grim trace of a man who had glimpsed something too vast, too terrible, to comprehend.
He slowly sat down like a man burdened with a weight too heavy for his shoulders, his body folding into the chair as though something inside of him had snapped. His hands trembled slightly as he stared blankly at the floor.His voice dropped into a hoarse murmur, his words not directed at IAM or anyone else, just whispered into the space around him.
"No... it can't be," he muttered under his breath. "Just based on the description... I could be wrong... I hope I'm wrong. But if it is..."
His voice faded into a whisper, his thoughts clearly spiraling down a road he didn't want to walk. The words barely left his lips, more like vibrations caught in a whirlwind of anxiety. It was as if the ground had suddenly turned hollow beneath him and he was teetering on the edge of a very old, very dark truth.
He didn't finish the thought. It hung there, suspended in the sterile hospital room, more dreadful because of its incompletion.
From the name alone, it was clear the man was dangerous. But something in Thor's expression said that dangerous was only the beginning.
IAM sat silently, watching the man unravel in front of him. He wasn't sure what to feel—curiosity, maybe, or the beginning of a dull apprehension. A thousand questions formed in his mind, but one surged forward above all the rest.
Who the hell was Mr. Graveyard?
He opened his mouth to ask—his lips parting slightly, his voice forming on his tongue—but the moment shattered as a sudden buzzing filled the air, sharp and urgent. Thor snapped out of his stupor and quickly reached into his coat, pulling out a device that resembled a high-end, heavily modified walkie-talkie. It lit up with soft blue light as he brought it to his mouth.
"Hello, this is Thor. What is it?" he answered, voice low, his tone now stripped of its usual authority. His entire presence had dimmed, like a sun dipped behind a storm cloud.
Right now, he sounded more defeated than IAM did.
Honestly, IAM thought, the way he spoke now...
As strange as it seemed, the master-level ascender was the one who now sounded depressed.
The voice that came through the device was crisp and no-nonsense, distinctly feminine.
The moment she spoke, she jumped straight to the point, wasting no time on pleasantries.
"Hello. Kai here. About the symbol you discovered at the Hold... after digging through our archives, we found something. It took a while, but we uncovered a match."
Thor straightened slightly, his eyes sharpening despite the tiredness behind them.
Kai continued, "That symbol has been around for at least a hundred thousand years. That's the earliest record we could find. It's ancient. It was originally associated with a cult—a group long buried in myth. They called themselves The Circle of the Accursed."
IAM's eyes twitched. The name alone sent a ripple of unease through the room.
Kai continued without pause. "The symbol roughly translates to: 'Sacrificed for the Lambs'."
Thor furrowed his brows.
Kai's voice remained steady. "It's meant to represent offerings—sacrifices made willingly or not—to some divine figures, presumably their 'Lambs'. The group was labeled accursed because, according to nearly every historical record involving them, they were seen as being touched by evil. Their presence was like a curse—wherever they went, death followed. Entire towns were said to disappear overnight. The gods, it's said, rejected their very existence."
IAM and Thor exchanged glances.
The name was different. But the symbol matched. And the ideology... it wasn't hard to make the connection. The cult IAM encountered in the Hold had introduced themselves as The Circle of the Divine, but now it was clear—they were either the same group or a direct continuation of the same madness.
The same twisted group—only seen through different lenses depending on which side you stood on. A cult disillusioned enough to consider themselves divine, even while the world condemned them as cursed.
"They were highly active shortly after the Blackout," Kai continued, "but some reports suggest they existed even before that, just under different names. Their methods were brutal. They didn't just kill—they erased. As time passed, they slipped into obscurity, their name forgotten, records erased or buried. But now they've resurfaced. And clearly, they have a purpose. We just don't know what it is yet."
Thor inhaled sharply. "Understood," he said slowly. "I got new intel... from IAM. I'll report directly to the team." His face scrunched as if the weight of his words physically hurt to say. "And... Mr. Graveyard might be involved."
There was a pause on the other end of the device. Then:
"What the fuck did you just say to me—"
Thor promptly cut the connection before the voice could continue. The click echoed into the quiet room. He cut the transmission with the resignation of someone who didn't want to deal with the reaction.
He let out a heavy sigh, leaning back in his chair, the pressure of it all seeming to triple and then square. The weight on his shoulders was visible now, settling into his bones like lead.
After a few seconds....
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, rubbing his temples.It wasn't just the discovery. It was the implications. Mr. Graveyard wasn't someone you spoke of lightly, not even among the highest-ranked.
IAM, now more curious than ever, asked softly, "Who is this... Mr. Graveyard?"
Thor didn't respond immediately. Instead, he turned to look at IAM again, truly look. It was as if he was seeing the boy for the first time—not as a broken survivor or even a key witness, but as something entirely new. Something unfathomable.
His eyes met IAM's, and for a moment, there was something raw in them. Caution. Awe. A kind of disbelief. He looked at IAM like he was some rare, mythical creature—something that should not exist.
"You..." Thor's voice was hushed. "How did you survive?"
IAM blinked.
He considered lying—saying something vague, something convenient—but then remembered: there was no point. He had nothing left to lose. Nothing left to protect.
"I didn't," he said flatly.
Thor's eyes narrowed.
IAM continued, "He definitely snapped my neck. I remember it clearly. But... when I woke up, I was in this bed. I don't know why. I don't know how. I don't even know if it was real."
He reached up and gently rubbed the side of his neck, as if the memory had left an invisible bruise. The echo of pain was still there, haunting him in the form of sensation.
Thor's expression turned even graver.
"Maybe..." he said slowly, "maybe he let you live for a reason. But I doubt it. That thing doesn't care about life..... He doesn't believe in mercy."
"Then who is he?" IAM pressed. "Why is he called Mr. Graveyard?"
Thor leaned back, the weight of memory and fear dragging his words down.
"He's called Mr. Graveyard because, in a twisted way, people used to go to him when they wanted to die," he said. "They called him Mr Graveyard because anyone who wished for eternal rest would dare to seek him out.... He was the final resting place for these people.... He was inevitable... If you crossed him, if you faced him, it was over. You just... died."
"Over time, the phrase 'the man you go to when you want to die' became more than just a saying—it became his name. Mr Graveyard."
IAM was quiet. He couldn't deny it—it was a badass name. Terrifying, but undeniably cool.
Thor continued, "He was extremely active between a hundred and two hundred years ago. In that time, it's estimated that he personally killed millions.... By his own hands."
IAM is silent.
"War crimes, catastrophes, mass executions... powerful fighters crushed like insects. Even people on his level—masters, high-level ascenders—were torn apart as if they were nothing. And we never figured out who he really was, where he came from, or what he wanted."
Thor shook his head slowly. "It's no surprise he and a few other masters could slaughter the other masters of the Hold.
Thor's voice dipped lower.
"No one even knew he was tied to a cult. This... this is news to all of us."
IAM took it all in, silently. The age didn't surprise him too much—he knew that high-tier masters could live for centuries. It wasn't uncommon for powerful ascenders to live beyond 300 years, especially if they avoided reckless battles. But the numbers still shook him.
Millions.
IAM didn't think it was impossible — not with 100 to 200 years of activity, and especially if a massive portion of the victims were just normal humans. The numbers made a cold sort of sense when stretched across centuries. But knowing that didn't make it any less horrifying.
The sheer scale of it settled over him like a weighted shroud.
Millions of lives, ended by one man's hands.
IAM couldn't even begin to comprehend the kind of person — or thing — who could commit such devastation and still move through the world untouched, unrepentant, and now reemerging as if nothing had changed.
IAM stared at the floor.
"I don't think he's the leader of the cult."
Thor looked up, surprised.
"I don't believe he's the absolute leader," he said. "If he were, he wouldn't be involved directly in operations like Claw or the Hold. That means there's someone else. Someone just as powerful—maybe more.... Far more. "
"I mean… based on what you said, and what I saw... it doesn't fit. If he were the top, why would he personally get involved? And he mentioned something about the same thing happening at Claw… That means whoever led the operation there is probably just as powerful as he is."
IAM looked up. His voice lowered, hardening.
"That means this Circle of the Accursed—or Divine—is a way bigger threat than any of us imagined."
Thor stared at him for a long time before nodding slowly. He looked genuinely impressed.For someone so young,IAM had managed to put together a plausible, intelligent theory in seconds. He'd read between the lines without even trying.
"You're probably right," he said. "When I report this... they're going to lose their minds."
IAM didn't respond.
But inside?
Inside, he was being tortured.
Getting revenge now seemed more impossible than ever. Hise wasn't just some random. He was a legend. A demon wrapped in human flesh.
And if that monster wasn't even the one in charge?
Then IAM didn't stand a chance.
IAM had a sinking feeling that just breathing in the same room as them... would be enough to kill him.