The shock and rage of being expelled from the guild and the bunker quickly turned to lead in Kevin’s stomach. Outside in the radioactive wasteland of the Outback he had no protection, no Gear, no allies, and no resources. He had meant only to keep Sean out of the action until he could convince the guild that he ought to lead them. Instead, he had killed his guild mate, Shelly, and become an instant pariah. Despite his situation, Kevin felt no remorse. He was sad that Shelly had died but it was Sean’s fault for not being in the right pod. Ultimately, the final betrayal was Aeon’s. He thought that he could trust the AI to have his back and to understand the needs of the guild but it was clear that Aeon was on Sean’s side. How the hell did that bastard convince the AI to betray him like that? Probably the same way that he had gotten his ex-wife Julie to get him kicked out of Terrazon. It seemed like Sean was always one step ahead of him.
Looking out on the harsh desert landscape that had been scoured of all life by the nuclear fallout, it was clear that Kevin was living on borrowed time. He knew he would either die or become a mindless mutant like those creatures he’d killed in Silverton. Still, if he was going to go, it wasn’t going to be without a fight. He owed Sean and the rest of the Misfits for what they’d done to him and he vowed he would make them pay. His tongue felt thick and dry in the desert heat and already he could feel his skin melting from the radiation. He probably wouldn’t become a mutant overnight like the miners in Silverton but it was only a matter of time before he became some mindless NPC.
Kevin wandered the toxic desert listlessly. Even in his mental haze he longed for vengeance. Days passed as he continued forward. He started hallucinating and could swear that voices started to call to him, promising power. At one point he had found a spring at the edge of the mountains and been able to quench his thirst but he had no water skin or way to carry more water and by that point the voices would not let up. Something called him south. The whispers in his mind nearly drove him mad as he stumbled ever towards the alluring call of something that could deliver him vengeance.
Strangely, he encountered no mutants or denizens of the fallout desert. Whereas before dozens of such creatures and their screams would fill the night, his journey was one of solitude. Finally, after days and days of wandering he saw a town in the distance. Like a mirage it danced in and out of his vision and for hours he couldn’t be sure if what he saw wasn’t an illusion. Later, when the sun had set he made his way into the abandoned mining town and found the local bar. The doors were unlocked and he dragged himself inside, parched and woozy with exhaustion.
Kevin sat down at the bar and was about to pour himself a drink when a skeletal hand appeared and placed a shot glass on the counter. “What are you having,” a gravelly, disembodied voice asked. What the hell? Must be the toxins he’d breathed in. Already Kevin was finding himself short of breath and he’d noticed that his skin had begun to toughen over the last few days. He was becoming one of those damn mutants.
Since he was imagining things, he might as well wish for something good. “I’ll have your best whisky,” he replied. A few seconds later the skeletal hand poured him a shot. He tried taking a sip to see if any of this was real. It burned going down. He must be having one heck of a vision. He finished the rest of the shot in one gulp. That sure hit the spot although it didn’t fix the whole being on the way to death thing.
As if reading his mind, the creature in front of him removed his hood and Kevin looked into the bloodshot eyes of a humanoid skeletal face. He jumped back several feet and nearly fell on the floor. “Don’t be alarmed,” the creature said. “You’ve had a hell of a week and now you get to see my pretty face. I know I’m quite the charmer,” the creature said with a dry laugh. “You’re probably wondering why you’re here and talking to a skeleton, aren’t you?”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Kevin nodded. “Yeah, you definitely startled me. You seemed to be expecting me. What is it that you want?” he asked. The creature in front of him was a Level 90 Lich. Kevin was a Level 0 commoner. He had checked as soon as he’d been kicked out of the bunker and it was clear that he was still subject to the game despite not having the advantages he’d had from when he’d been diving with the Gear.
“Yes, I’ve been expecting you. I’m a collector of things that have been discarded, as you have,” the undead face stared at Kevin as if boring into his soul.
He shivered but stared back. “Whatever. You still haven’t answered my question. Who are you and what do you want with me?” he replied.
The disembodied head and hand became fully connected with the rest of the creature’s skeleton as it removed its cloak. Obviously, the cloak gave the creature some form of invisibility. Fully revealed he could see living organs within the creature’s belly including a functional stomach that was currently digesting something. Kevin prepared to flee as he sensed he might become lunch. Sensing his nervousness, the creature said in a powerful but quiet voice, “Be still. You’d be dead already if I meant to harm you. You asked what I was – I am the King of Nightspring and lord of the undead in this region. I was the one who called you – you who were discarded by his brethren and left to die in the wastes. Your body is dying already but I could use one with your talents and ambitions. Will you join me and serve as my lieutenant?”
***Reborn: Will you accept the King of Nightspring’s offer and join his undead army?
Rewards: A chance to redeem yourself and the power of an undead army
Risks: A second death
***
Kevin thought about it a moment and then let his hate rise up again for his former comrades. It wasn’t even a choice really, “Yes, I will join you.” He could always stab this guy in the back later, once he’d found a way to overcome the whole dying thing, and take back his power.
"Good. Go to the well at the end of the street and jump in,” the King of Nightspring said.
Kevin looked at him archly, “What will happen to me if I jump into this well?”
“You will die, of course, and be reborn. Isn’t that what you want?” the King’s voice rasped as he finished with a dry laugh.
Smug bastard, Kevin thought. I’ll deal with him later once I’ve taken the power that is rightfully mine. Kevin turned and left the saloon. He walked down the street to the well. The well was dry as he’d suspected and it was a long way down. To Hell with it – he was dying anyway. He jumped.
Inhuman screams that couldn’t belong to him erupted from his mouth moments later. His femurs had shattered and the sharp fragments drove up into his stomach as his feet impacted the bottom of the dry well. His lungs must have been punctured, he thought distantly, since he could no longer breathe and each gasp rattled as his lungs with liquid. He was dying and that undead bastard had tricked him. Despite the pain, as he was taken by oblivion, Kevin held onto his rage at the entire situation: the unfairness of what his friends had done to him, the mistakes that always seemed to haunt him, and the mocking smile of the King of the Nightspring.
When he awoke, Kevin looked down at his body. Where he expected to see bones jutting out of his skin, instead he saw nothing but bones. He no longer felt thirsty or hungry and the pain he’d experienced upon death was a distant memory. Looking up, he could see he was in a giant throne room. The roof above was domed and columns descended from the ceiling. The massive room was pitch black but Kevin could see every detail in the room perfectly. There were thousands upon thousands of zombies, skeletons of all kinds, both human and non-human, and at the very end of the room was a bone dais where the King of Nightspring sat upon a wicked looking throne. Even though the King was probably a thousand feet from him Kevin could easily see his gesture as their eyes met. Kevin stepped forward through the room and the bone warriors and rotted fleshmen stood aside respectfully. This was as it should be. For he knew that he was one of the strongest warriors in the room and his place was by the king’s side. The humans would pay for what they’d done to him. And Sean was at the top of that list.