Thud. Thud. Thud.

  The carriage rattled down a dirt road, each bump shaking its flimsy frame.

  Inside, a ragged, unremarkable boy sat hunched in the corner, his eyes fixed on the object floating before him—a leather-bound book, suspended in midair without regard for gravity.

  It had no title, no markings, and no design, with a pin leather cover and simple white pages.

  And yet, its simplicity made it all the more uncanny.

  "It's been three days since I came to this world," Karl muttered under his breath, careful not to alert the driver. "And now, I'll finally have a shot at the first ritual."

  With a thought, the book opened, revealing blood-red text sprawled across the first page:

  [Rank 10: Human][Abilities: None]

  [Advancement Ritual](1) Bury 4 humans, 6 feet deep, and arrange them in a square(2) Bury yourself alive in the center(3) Condemn each corpse for a shameful act they committed in life

  Gncing at the words, his pulse involuntarily quickened.

  "How much longer until we reach the graveyard?" he called out.

  "Roughly ten minutes," came the gruff voice of a man from outside. "It's a fair way out from town."

  There was a momentary pause as the driver gnced at the enclosed carriage, followed by a curious tone.

  "Say... how'd you manage to convince old man Luscious to make you the town's new gravekeeper? Far as I know, it's always been a hereditary role, and the st keeper's son is still around."

  Karl didn't answer right away.

  Truthfully, even he didn't know where this stroke of fortune had come from.

  Three days ago, he'd been an ordinary saryman from Earth. One moment, he was dozing off in his apartment. The next, he was waking up in a soot-stained town that looked straight out of Victorian history.

  With no ID, no money, and no real skills, he'd been surviving off scraps and scattered charity.

  Until four hours ago, when the mayor, Luscious, suddenly approached him with an offer to become the town's full-time gravekeeper.

  There was no interview, not even an expnation.

  With no other prospects, he had agreed to the role, being whisked away in a carriage immediately after.

  As for why he accepted, there were two main reasons.

  First, the money. The job paid three dolrs a week, which might sound modest, but compared to the ten cents he'd been scraping by on, it was a fortune.

  Second, the mysterious book.

  It had followed him since the day he awoke in this world. No one else could see it, and nothing could touch it.

  As someone who frequented web novel forums, Karl had already dubbed it his golden finger.

  Sure, the ritual it described was strange. Burying bodies and digging his own grave sounded like the ramblings of a madman, but everything about it screamed supernatural.

  And right now, it was his only ticket out of obscurity. His chance to escape the ordinary and seize the kind of fantasy others can only dream about.

  If that meant digging graves and burying corpses, so be it. Better a madman with power than just another helpless vagrant rotting in the alleyways.

  And now, as the town's sole gravekeeper, he finally had access to the one key ingredient: bodies.

  Returning to the conversation, Karl let out a dry chuckle. "Maybe I'm his illegitimate son?"

  "Hm." The driver grunted thoughtfully, then fell silent.

  The rest of the ride passed quietly.

  "We're here. Careful with your step, and don't forget the keys on your way out."

  Karl didn't linger. He snatched the graveyard keys the mayor had left, then stepped out.

  With a flick of the reins, the carriage rattled back toward town, hooves fading into the distance.

  Stepping onto solid ground, Karl surveyed the plot before him.

  Tombstones dotted the earth. Iron bars, three meters high, enclosed the cemetery in a perfect square. In the center, a small hill rose gently, with a humble cottage perched on top, overlooking the graves below.

  Pushing open the rusted iron gate, he walked inside and made his way to the cottage.

  For the foreseeable future, this would be his home.

  The house itself was small, maybe ten square meters, with a single floor. A bed occupied the far corner, a wooden desk sat near the door, and a modest kitchen had been crammed to the side.

  After days on the streets, the sight nearly brought him to tears.

  Only he knew how miserable those first nights had been. Even the other vagrants had lived better than him.

  He stepped to the desk and picked up a weathered book that had been waiting there.

  The Guide to Gravekeeping?

  He'd been worried about his ck of training, but it seemed someone had anticipated that.

  Flipping it open, he skimmed the first few pages.

  His main duties consisted of greeting mourners, digging graves in marked zones, and performing the proper rites.

  But as he read on, his enthusiasm dimmed.

  "Tsk. Vagrants and sves go into the mass burial site in the back. Human life really is the cheapest resource in town."

  The book wasn't long, but every page was filled with information.

  As he skimmed ahead, one line caught his eye.

  "All burials must end with a prayer to the Lord of Eversting Light."

  "Prayer Tempte: O Lord of Eversting Light, you who watch from the heavens..."

  Karl paused, something about this passage made him uneasy.

  He'd heard of this group before. It was a church that worshipped the sun and was one of the few pces that offered aid to the poor.

  They had once provided him bread, staving off hunger for the day. At the time, he hadn't thought much of it.

  But now, his fingers twitched.

  Could it be... this world's sun really is a god?

  Given the book and his dreamlike arrival, was the idea really so far-fetched?

  He gnced toward the window.

  Staring at the golden rays pouring through the gss, he suddenly felt eerily exposed.

  Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he set the manual down and prepared for bed. The unnerving possibility had severely diminished his motivation to keep reading.

  He closed the curtains, double-checked the lock, and made sure the chair was tucked in.

  Once everything was secure, the exhaustion from the past three days finally caught up with him. As the fatigue washed over him, he colpsed onto the mattress and fell into a heavy slumber.

  But as he slept, a strange dream took hold.

  ***

  He found himself floating in a bck void, gazing at the realm with a peculiar sense of detachment.

  Then, from above, a colossal fming hand descended, its fingers spread wide as if eager to seize him.

  But just before it could reach him, a crimson castle erupted from the abyss.

  Its presence sent ripples through the void and stood tall between Karl and the encroaching fme.

  Faced with the towering fortress, the hand recoiled.

  And then slowly, the dream unraveled into mist.

  ***

  Karl stirred in bed, waking up drenched in cold sweat and bearing a faint headache.

  "A nightmare?" he mumbled in confusion. The details having already slipped from his mind.

  With a shrug, he rubbed his temple, rolled over, and drifted back to sleep.

  Beside him, the book that had followed him from the start hovered silently in the air.

  And for the briefest moment, a crimson castle shimmered across its cover before fading once more into a pin, worn leather.