It gets you in the first two episodes, when a girl with a shovel learns her entire village has been dead the whole time and the man who shot them, Hampnie Hambart, the so-called Man-Eating Toy, is her father. Ai Astin digging those graves one by one is the thesis: this is a show about the labor of letting people go in a world where God locked the gate and nobody new gets born. The Ortus arc, a city where the dead just keep living as if nothing happened, and Alice Color's part in it, is the kind of quiet gut-punch most 12-episode fantasies never earn. Visually it's shameless about beauty, soft light and painterly backgrounds against a dying world, and the score carries scenes the script sprints through. Because it does sprint. Light novel compression leaves threads dangling and holes you can drive a hearse through. Watch it anyway, for Ai deciding that a gravekeeper's job is mercy, not disposal.
Fifteen years ago, God vanished. Heaven's gate slammed shut. Now the dead linger in the world, trapped between existence and oblivion, while the living can no longer bear children. Humanity marches toward extinction with each passing day. Ai is twelve years old and one of the last children alive. Her village assigns her an impossible job: become a Gravekeeper, the rare individuals capable of guiding restless spirits to their final peace. She accepts the burden because someone has to, because the dead keep piling up, because the world won't stop dying. Everything changes when a stranger arrives. A figure in black carrying a gun and secrets that unravel her village's carefully maintained lies. Suddenly Ai's role shifts from duty to desperation. She hits the road with nothing but her shovel and questions that demand answers: Why did God leave? Can humanity survive without hope? What does it mean to put something to rest when nothing ever truly ends? This is a show about acceptance, loss, and the weight of being needed when the world is already broken.