After killing Numineer, Cain traveled, moving from village to village, and town to town.

He would stay at these places for a night before slaughtering everyone in the morning as he left. Their bodies and minds would merge with the mist as he continued on.

Cain didn't think much or talk to people he met, other than when necessary. His state of mind was jumbled and chaotic. He was at a pivotal moment; little stood in the way of leaving this place, yet he didn't feel right about departing.

Was he scared? Anxious? No, it was none of those things. A feeling similar to butterflies hitting his stomach made him nauseous – it was apprehension.

Cain had only known one place, Netherane. Yet now he was supposed to travel outside his cage after being locked in for so long. He didn't know how to feel... he couldn't feel.

His mind was stuck in mania as his actions became reflexive and his mind submerged in darkness once more. He began to sleep again.

The feeling of comfort it gave seemed to wash away all the confusing emotions and allowed him a moment of peace.

Before he knew it, he was trapped in this feeling like an addiction. Cain wasn't in control, and he left his body to instincts alone.

...

This brings us to the present. Cain climbed out of the swamp onto a large island, where a massive city sprawled.

He stumbled up the elevated ground, lost his footing, and slid against the wall. Slumping down next to the gates, a guard caught sight of him and walked over.

"Hey, beggars can't lie on the wall. Go inside the city, there are some places where people will let you stay. Just make sure to come back and pay the entrance fee."

Cain mumbled incoherent words before a moment of clarity formed in his eyes. He looked up at the guard and spoke with slurred speech.

"Is this Cardin?"

The guard rolled his eyes. "Yes, now please get up, you drunkard."

The guard's words weren't heeded by Cain, and he smiled with a mischievous grin.

"Good."

Sound seemed to stop, and time slowed as particle after particle lifted itself from the pores in Cain's skin. Like red dots, they slowly formed and multiplied, and mist began to secrete from him as it lifted up and moved towards the guard.

The guard began to open his mouth, and time seemed to pick up as his voice became audible. There was only a split second where sound exited his mouth before a wave of red pushed against his face like a pressure washer, shaving his entire head down to the bone.

Onlookers' faces slowly turned to horror as the body dropped and Cain's ruby eyes hid behind the fallen corpse. A cloud sprang from his body at a volume so large it blanketed the city's entrance.

Cries resounded as creatures that seemed to exist yet not exist were born from the fog. People screamed and whimpered, but nothing could stop the bloodied haze.

Vapor endlessly left Cain's body as he stayed slumped in his spot. All the towns and villages he massacred increased the miasma by a huge amount, and he could probably cover the whole city if he spread himself thin.

Nevertheless, his borders expanded while the dead increased his fog. He gained more and more as the genocide continued; by noon, the entire city was consumed in red. A stench of blood so thick it would take eons to clear from the air lingered, and the smell of metal and rust complemented it.

The fog descended on Cardin. Cries echoed through the winding alleys as the creeping film of incarnadine smoke enveloped the outer districts.

The acrid smell of fear hung heavy in the air - sweat and tears mingling with the iron tang of spilled blood. Wails of terror morphed into gurgling and choked gasps as writhing crimson tendrils squeezed the life from their victims.

In the city square, the stench of death overwhelmed the senses. Bodies lay piled, flesh rent apart by shadowy claws and teeth. The cobblestones ran slick with blood, reflecting the fires bursting forth in nearby buildings.

The once lively market stalls stood broken and forlorn, their painted signs faded beneath a coating of crimson residue. Food and wares rotted under the mist's suffocating shroud. All wildlife was extinguished - no birdsong or stray cats disturbed the oppressive silence.

A pair of skeletons embrace tightly on the cold stone. The lovers' hands cling together even in death.

A guard leaned against a storefront, light faded from them as blood pooled beneath their body. Even a student could be seen, the corpse showing they were protecting a small child.

As dawn broke, the last defiant screams were extinguished. The only sound was the faint whistle of wind through the empty streets. Cardin now stood desolate, bathed in the sinister red glow of the all-consuming fog.

All the while, Cain stayed in his spot, laughing, crying, talking, all to himself. He was like a madman; horrors unfolded within the walls, yet his eyes and ears paid them no mind.

Perhaps this was how he was going to stay – in this state of unawareness and inebriation.

The sanguine cloud swirled around him, filled with the ghosts of the recently deceased. One wraith solidified before him, its dead eyes boring into Cain.

The specter regarded Cain with undisguised malice and disgust. "Murderer," it hissed. "We will be free of you." The ghost's eyes bore into Cain, full of loathing. "One day you will pay for your sins against us."

The madman didn't hear the apparition in his ramblings so it instead joined back with the fog, to watch and wait.

Cardin was now laid to waste, and the cloud of crimson grew so big it couldn't be contained within Cain's body. And so, Cain continued traveling, a fog following him, bending to his command as he destroyed towns and villages on his way to other cities.

..........

He arrived at a small town a three-day's walk from his last destination. The people greeted him kindly at first, unaware of the evil that had been unleashed. For two nights, Cain walked among them, the malevolent fog contained.

On the third night, the killing began. Screams rang out through the early morning hours as the mist bled through homes and alleys. By sunrise, the once-cheerful town was silent and still.

The next sizable city took over a week to fully succumb. The dense population allowed the fog to feast, growing stronger and larger with each life claimed. What started as isolated nighttime killings soon exploded into a hungry crimson haze claiming hundreds a day.

After the city fell, Cain's name became whispered with fear. But they could not stop the unrelenting tide of bloodened shroud. After a long, desperate month of battle, the last bastion, Ansross, was swept away.

By the time Cain reached the furthest stretches of the realm, months had passed since that first quiet village. The spread of the fog was gradual, but unyielding. None could escape the creeping dread that closed in week by week, city by city.

A full year after the night the fog first awoke, silence and stillness claimed the last corners of civilization. The Carmine Nightmare had blighted the world utterly.

...

It was the year 3245 of the 119th cycle. The 3rd month of the 5th day marked the day the last person drew their breath, devoured by the all-encompassing fog.

In the past year, a monster had walked the earth, swallowing cities. Hundreds of thousands were killed, and the survivors called this event the Carmine Nightmare. It didn't take long for the fog, now stretching across the length of 10 cities, to cover a large expanse of ground.

The mist quickly killed off all humans, under the command of hungry apparitions. With the last person gone, nothing remained. Cain's plan had come to fruition, and he had gained the freedom he sought.

Regrettably, Cain's opinion or thoughts on the matter never formed. He remained in his crazed state, and slowly but surely, his ghosts took advantage, about to break free and kill him in the process.

With Cain checked out, the ghosts of vengeful people slowly gained power and thought. Now, they would enact their plan and seize Cain's power.

A man who resembled a husk walked through the broken remains of an ancient city. The city was huge, with three different walls defending it, creating rings. In the ruined center, the remains of a large building stood.

The husk slowly walked forward, their hair frizzled and long, with a beard reaching their chest. Their skin was no longer white but translucent, their veins bare. Surprisingly, their eyes were no longer red; they were dark, so dark that no light entered or exited.

As the man crouched down to play with rocks, the miasma following him surrounded him, faces forming in the mist, made of smoke. They surrounded their master, who chained them, preparing to bear their fangs.