He was stopped by a few people along the way to the gate. A random blacksmith asked him to run and gather coal from a mountain outside town. Super weird. Some woman needed help with rats in her cellar. He couldn’t fathom why they kept picking him out of the literal crowd to ask for help. He simply told the blacksmith no, and the woman, after several apologies about how busy he was, seemed to get the hint.

She said he could come back later, which struck him as odd. Hopefully she would have solved her rodent problem by then, right?

He’d been tempted to watch the blacksmith for a bit though. The combination of iron, fire, rhythm, and hammer had been briefly mesmerizing. It reminded him of laying rebar, bending it into shape by the power of his will and the strength of his arm before pouring in the concrete. He forced himself to focus, reminded of the futility. He wouldn’t be laying rebar anymore. Gritting his teeth, he continued on his way.

The West Gate of Glendale rose up like a monolith. Eighty feet tall, with multiple portcullises layered over each other for the full fifty feet the gate spanned. It was an impressive sight. Arron decided he would not want to be on the other side trying to get in.

He got directions from a guard, and after a short time, found himself seated on a caravan and headed for his Bella.

The ride was relatively quick. Roughly thirty minutes of travel, and he found himself in an entirely different world.

The lands around the Black Keep were an ugly, desolate place. Mildew and rot rose from large, murky pools running under many of the trees. Quick flicks of movement within those sludge puddles ensured Arron wouldn’t be going for a swim. Blackened scrub brush and dying trees, covered in choking vines, dotted the landscape. They almost completely covered the single thin path that disappeared into the dark forest.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

A rough shoulder knocked Arron out of the way, and four players, bristling with weapons and covered head to foot in armor, ran laughing down the trail.

Just as the players were about to disappear into the trees, one turned and shouted, “Good luck, newb. Say hello to the Valkyrie for me!”

Laughter rolled out from the trees.

“What does that even mean?” Arron grumbled as he started walking down the path.

Five minutes later, he stood in front of what appeared to be a large floating disk with a shimmering surface. Light bounced off it, creating a swirling mass of black and deep purple just hanging in the air.

Finally, he thought. Something I understand. This was clearly a portal like in Rick and Morty. If he went through, it should take him somewhere else.

He took a deep breath, really hoping this portal would save him a little time by taking him to the Black Keep, and jumped through.

To what appeared to be the exact same path he was already on.

Turning around, the same portal hung behind him, and he visibly twitched.

“Woooosaaaaa,” Arron hummed while rubbing his earlobes, fighting down the once again growing frustration. “Gotta remember my pressure points. Woooosaaaaa…”

Eventually feeling centered and relatively calm, Arron walked down the path, turned a corner, and ran directly into a zombie.

The rotting husk of a body grabbed Arron by the face, its yellowed fingernails digging into Arron’s cheeks and jaw. He screamed, every nerve ending in his face set on fire as the fingernails tore through the skin.

Reacting on instinct, Arron punched the zombie in the face and kicked at its legs, trying desperately to get some space between them.

It was not to be.

Struggle as he might, Arron was held still, forced to watch this horrific creature’s mouth gape open. With blunted, festering teeth, it chomped and ripped out his throat.

***

The familiar scent of old sweat and dirt, with the caking of dust in his throat, greeted Arron as he opened his eyes, his hands reflexively going to his throat in a half flailing panic.

“Oh good, you’re awake. Don’t try to move just yet. The first respawn can be a little jarring,” a melodious woman’s voice said.

A pair of beautiful, though translucent, eyes came into his field of view. “I am Brynhild, caretaker of the recently slain, and I am here to help you rejoin your quest.”