The cemetery fog was thick and damp, almost fresh were it not for the surrounding vast landscape of decomposition and perpetually aging grief. Disturbing its stillness was the sharp, metallic tang of aerosol spray. The group moved through rows of silent dead, not for profit or ritual, but for the sheer, nihilistic thrill of destruction. Sledgehammers swung, disfiguring stone angels while crude graffiti bled across weathered epitaphs.

Then they noticed something off. Another person. Security, maybe. Except nobody addressed the rabble.

In the center of the yard stood a lone man. He seemed draped in something ancient and rotten. He ignored the vandals entirely, his voice rising in guttural incantations that sounded more like a chorus than one single individual. A conduit of forces older than time. His voices collided with the bruised, purple heavens about speeding up the apocalypse while ground began to heave. It sounded like the sky was cracking in half, giving way to a torrential downpour of disposable souls.

Extremities of yellowed bone and grey, sloughing flesh punched through the soil. The witnesses froze, hammers hanging limp in their hands, as literally every corpse in the yard pulled itself upward. Once unearthed, they stood at attention, eyes fixated on the mysterious figure, his voices continuing to compete.

Then, the precision vanished. An invisible, gravitational force pulled the dead toward a central point. Shoulders ground into ribcages; limbs wove together like roots. The sound was a sickening chorus of snapping bone and tearing sinew as the merging bodies fused into a singular, towering shape.

To paralyzed to run, the grave desecrators watched in horror as the very debris they had created was sucked into the growing vortex. Shards of smashed headstones wove directly into a rising mountain of flesh, giving the monstrosity a jagged, armored exterior of stolen tombstones.

The lone man’s laughter drowned out the wet, heavy thud of the newly sentient mass. Before them stood a three-story "Golgotha" of unnatural living death. As the apocalypse incarnate took its first thunderous step, crushing the remaining graves beneath its weight, they realized petty destruction had been nothing more than a prelude to riotous endtymes.