Winds rushed past me as a lion figure dashed ahead to Lady Fern’s side. Like its owner, the ethereal lion disregarded me as my imminent battle ensued.
Bruised, necrotizing flesh and exposed finger bones swiped madly at me from the oncoming undead. Jaws opened unnaturally wide, the zombie in disheveled, dirt-covered clothes lunged at me, ready to chomp down on my flesh as it snarled with a ravenous hunger.
I doubted the unholy creature could taste anything anymore, given its badly decayed state. But then again, the dead I know of did not come back to life.
No, the dead I knew did not.
No matter how much I cried and begged, my mom would never get up again.
I squinted my eyes, partly from annoyance at the oncoming zombie, but more because I felt something long slumbering stir awake inside me - unraveling itself from the depths of my subconscious. It was another reason I hated cemeteries and avoided them.
Being in cemeteries awoke memories I wished remained dead and buried.
I swung - the metal spade of my shovel whamming against the rotting flesh and clawing finger bones reaching for me. The blow struck hard, ringing with a low thunk and sending back a shock through the shovel into my arms. I felt the rebounding vibrations sting and seep into my bones, but the zombie felt it more. Its entire rotting arm dislodged off its socket and flung into the air before rolling away on the grass.
But the thing was unphased.
It staggered back but rushed at me again, head reaching nearly off its neck while its teeth snapped at my face with chomping bites. I struggled, leaning back to dodge and avoid being eaten.
Immediately, my left hand pulled the handle of the shovel, and the shaft slid through my right. Gripping the neck of the shovel with my right hand, I launched the laterally-held tool straight into the undead’s open mouth. It clawed at my head with its remaining arm, but I swiftly ducked away. However, the damn zombie would not relent, chomping and grinding its teeth on the shovel, inching towards my fingers. I fought back, charging ahead by kicking off the grassy dirt with all my might. The momentum traveled from my legs and into my arms, and I pushed back the zombie.
It staggered backwards three steps with a grunting growl.
The fight was now to my advantage. I took immediate action, not allowing the zombie to retaliate.
I continued dashing, closing the distance. As I did, I lifted and pulled back my right foot before launching a staunch kick right at its belly. I felt my flying stomp slam firmly into the zombie, only to sink into gooey, liquidity flesh. I frowned, disgusted at the nasty sensation.
But the gross thing toppled over from my kick, lifting off its feet and collapsing onto its back on the grass, all the while snarling as it fell over.
My eyes narrowed, seeing the opportunity for a critical blow.
I grasped the chance, running forward and swinging the shovel high into the sky, only to swing back down like a golf club right at the zombie’s head.
There was a low clunk simultaneously with a crunching ka-splat.
***System Notification***
First Kill!
User killed a LVL 1 Zombie!
10 EXP towards your profession gained!
Please also search the remains for any possible loot!
See achievement rewards from completed quests!
My first victory.
The blue screen told me so.
But looking at the zombie head that I lopped off and tumbled away in the ankle-high grass, I did not feel like a winner. Huffing with quick breaths from the adrenaline still pumping in my veins, I glanced around at what was supposed to be a cemetery - a last resting place for the deceased. But all I saw were the upturned earth, a desecrated burial site now turned battlefield, and a massacre of those who should still be forever resting underground.
It was supposed to be a game. This wasn’t reality. But when everything felt so real, I couldn’t suppress the awakening emotions that I long buried deep inside me.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Cemeteries were a tricky place for me. The eeriness did not bother me. But being in any graveyard reminded me of a painful truth - everything good in life is gone when the people you love are no longer of this world.
My current surroundings triggered long slumbering emotions - and like the undead, rose once again to the surface. I recalled my mother - her life, her generous and all-encompassing love, and permanently losing it all while I buried her in her final resting place.
I tried to shake away the sudden thoughts emerging in my mind. There were more immediate matters to attend to, like the zombies out to rip us apart. Yet, the memories came gushing out after seeing this cemetery defiled.
A fond moment, frozen in time years ago, flashed in my mind. And I remembered my mom gently patting my head while consoling me from my dad’s hurtful words.
I forcefully ended the memory.
Shoved it back down.
I hated it.
Everything about it.
Everything.
I gnashed my teeth - enraged at myself for letting my emotions get to me, unfairly at my mother for leaving me, and at my father and the world who took her from me.
But I was not in the mood or the right place to relive the experience. I never wanted to feel them again. Ever. They were stark reminders that the dead would never return. So long ago, I buried those fond memories and the pain of knowing I would never see and warmly embrace my mother again - deep, deep in the dark corners of my mind to run away from it all.
And I will rebury everything again - these damn undead in the game and also my past memories of real life.
I whispered, asking no one in general, or maybe I asked the world. I don’t know.
“Why does it have to be this way? Why can’t the dead and everything simply rest in peace?”
My question, mostly meant to be rhetorical, was answered by Lady Fern.
“It does not have to be this way, Lucian. It should not be this way. Cemeteries represent many things - grief, sadness, a last resting place. There are too many others to count. But these sites are also monuments, a testament, celebrating life and all the good and difficult times that come with it. And I intend to end these atrocities that defile those who walked the path. Living is a feat in itself. And we must show our respect.”
The sound of clapping hands in front of the lady nun ignited a flash of light more blinding than the sun.
Reflexively, my arms raised to shield my eyes, but in that brief moment, I thought I saw a faint silhouette of a woman with two lions by her side in the sky. But I wasn’t certain as a pillar of light descended from the sky and expanded out into the graveyard as Lady Fern completed her spell.
“Great Goddess above, grant mercy to these sacred lands and all those who reside within it. Protect them, my Goddess, from those who try to corrupt their bodies. Grant us Sanctuary!”
A warm sensation, reminiscent of home - safe and welcoming - enveloped me and the immediate area. The frenzied zombies, however, slowed to a crawl. Those near the center of the pillar of light even froze mid stampeding.
But most importantly, Lady Fern stated with fatigued breaths, “This will have to do for now. We have until the light of day stops touching these grounds before the spell dissipates completely. Come, we must return to town.”
I nodded, still seeing the black lightning slowly slithering around the graveyard off the corner of my eye.
Rushing to the knight, Lady Fern commanded, “Sir Gale, let us depart.”
“Yes, my Lady. Galius! To the cart!”
Like thunder, the knight’s steed bellowed out a booming roar, rushing to its rider who hopped onto its back as they galloped away. Lady Fern and I ran quickly after. Upon reaching the cart, the knight gently laid the last deceased from the cart on the grass.
“Wait for us, tired ones,” Sir Gale solemnly whispered, “We will return and let you sleep in peace within your new homes soon.”
Eyes darting towards me, reflecting my messy attire, splattered and stained with rotted zombie matter, the knight lifted his hand and jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, saying, “Back of the cart, noble spawn. You look and smell like an undead. Fitting for where we hold the dead, would you not say?”
I snorted at the smirk. The darn guy would never let me live without some kind of remark it seems. Fine by me.
“Speak for yourself. You look and smell more like the undead than I do. Take a good look, Sir Smartypants.”
The giant glanced down at his armor and finally realized his entire person was plastered with a layer by zombie flesh and blood. For reasons unknown, he glared back at me for stating the obvious.
About to reply, Lady Fern cut him off. Thank goodness.
“Enough, the both of you! Why are you bickering with each other?! We have urgent news needing to inform those back in town. I will not have either of you near me or the reins. The two of you will sit with each other in the back of the cart and reflect about your actions. Understood?”
“Yes, my Lady,” the knight whispered begrudgingly.
I nodded my head but felt like I got wrongly reprimanded.
Lady Fern sighed as she walked to the front, hooking back on the reins to the ethereal-looking lion. Curious. I noted to myself to examine the creature later.
Turning back, I returned the knight's glare, walking my way over to the back of the cart. Sliding up the shovel first, I hopped on, taking the farthest corner away from the annoying guy whose weight made the cart creak with a groan.
Even the cart didn’t like that bastard knight.
…
Only the sounds of galloping paws and ricketing wood on the uneven dirt road repeated in my ears. Silence remained between the three of us, but boiling tension sparked between Sir Gale and I. Tired of the glaring contest, I let the knight win and glanced away into the dense woods as the cart trekked back to town.
Overgrown canopies scrambling for the sunlight reached high into the sky as the trees warred for food. Largest of the fauna in the forest, they took the majority of the light, leaving darkness and leftovers for those on the forest floor.
Even in the plant kingdom, it seems like the big fish dominates the little fish.
I disliked being powerless, limited and bound by the design of the larger powers to keep me and the less privileged in check. It wasn’t bad, I suppose. It could be worse. But a bitter part of life was realizing there were the ‘Haves’ and the ‘Have nots.’
Many escaped their uncontrollable realities through other means. This game was mine and then some. And yet, even here where I escaped from my troubles, I was still reminded of my stark past and reality.
Suddenly, I slapped my cheeks. Thoughts of my deceased mother began to resurface. I pushed them back down, sealing them away. I took a breath and shook my head at myself.
Enough. No more of that.
Eyes turned to look at me as if I was a weirdo. “What in the Devals has possessed you, noble spawn? Or are you scared of a little bug on your cheek?”
I said nothing, ignoring the snickering man on the opposite end of me, whose back pushed to the side near the end of the cart. Still egging me on, I reminded myself of an important fact. I shook my head.
I can’t believe I was getting angry about an NPC - a virtual figment of imagination. As much as an annoying bastard that he is. I need to remember what I’m here for: money.
Money… the words echoed in my mind as if trying to remind me of something important I missed. Suddenly, it came to mind.
Loot.
Immediately, I shot up into standing.
“Crap, I forgot! My money!”