CHAPTER 1: GAME OVER

The smell of burning plastic hit John Harper’s nose moments before his monitor exploded in a brilliant flash of sparks. He jolted back in his chair, narrowly avoiding the shrapnel of cheap hardware as his gaming rig died a spectacular, fiery death.

“Are you kidding me?!” he shouted, flailing at the smoke. “I just upgraded the GPU! How does that even…"

The room tilted.

His protest cut off as the floor seemed to melt beneath him, replaced by swirling black void. His desk, his chair, even his half-empty energy drink dissolved into nothingness, leaving him floating in a cold, endless expanse of darkness.

A voice boomed, guttural and ancient, like a Viking god gargling gravel.

“Warrior of legend! You are summoned to fight for glory and death in the name of the clan!”

“Wait, what?!” John flailed in the void, trying to find something—anything—to hold onto. “You’ve got the wrong guy! I’m not—”

Before he could finish, the void spat him out.

John hit the ground with a thud, his breath knocked out of him by the impact. Snow. Cold, wet snow seeped through his hoodie as he lay sprawled on his back, blinking up at a gray, overcast sky.

“What the hell?” he muttered, sitting up and looking around.

He was in a village. Sort of. The kind you’d see in a low-budget Viking movie. Wooden huts with thatched roofs leaned against one another like they’d just barely survived an earthquake. Smoke curled from crude chimneys, and the air reeked of wet wood and something that might have been burnt meat—or possibly someone’s idea of soap.

A shout pierced the air, followed by the crunch of boots in snow.

John turned his head just in time to see a man barreling toward him, axe raised.

“Skáli!!” the man roared, frothing at the mouth like a rabid dog.

“Wait! Wait, wait, WAIT!” John scrambled backward, slipping and sliding in the snow as the axe came down.

It stopped an inch from his face, biting into the frozen ground with a solid thunk.

“Puny,” the man grunted, glaring down at him. He wore fur, leather, and an expression that said he’d just found a particularly disappointing turnip. “You’re the one we summoned?”

“I... uh... depends?” John wheezed, still staring at the axe. “What exactly were you trying to summon?”

“Warrior,” the man growled. “Strong. Fierce. Chosen by the gods.” He snorted, as if John’s existence personally offended him. “You look like a frost-bitten pig.”

“Wow, thanks for that,” John said, pulling himself to his feet. His knees wobbled, but he managed to stay upright. “Look, I don’t know what kind of Viking Comic-Con this is, but I think there’s been a mistake. I’m not…"

“Shaman!” the man bellowed, ignoring John. “What is this?!”

A new figure emerged from one of the huts, stooped and wrapped in a cloak that looked like it had been assembled from scraps of animal skin and bad decisions. The shaman shuffled closer, muttering to himself in a language John couldn’t understand.

Finally, the old man jabbed a bony finger at John. “The gods have sent us... this.”

“This?” the axe-wielding Viking repeated, gesturing at John like he was a particularly underwhelming platter of cold leftovers.

“Okay, rude,” John muttered, brushing snow off his hoodie.

The shaman ignored him, leaning in to inspect John more closely. His breath smelled like mushrooms and regret. “He does not look like a warrior...”

“I’ve been saying that,” John said, raising his hands.

“...but the gods work in strange ways. Perhaps he is a... decoy?”

“A what?”

Before John could protest further, a deafening crack split the air. The villagers froze, their heads snapping toward the forest. John followed their gaze and saw shadows moving between the trees—figures with weapons glinting in the pale light.

“Raiders!” someone shouted.

The entire village erupted into chaos.

Defend the village!” the axe-wielding man roared, grabbing John by the scruff of his hoodie. “You will fight!”

“Whoa, whoa, WHOA!” John squawked as he was dragged toward a pile of weapons. “I don’t even know how to hold a sword!”

“You hold it with your hands,” the Viking snapped, shoving a rusty blade into John’s grip.

“Great, thanks for the pro tip,” John muttered, his heart pounding as the raiders closed in.

The shaman shuffled closer, clutching a pouch of dried herbs that smelled like a mix of death and bad breath. He stared at John with wild eyes. “The gods sent you for this moment. You must use your power.”

“Power? What power?!”

The old man squinted, as if John were deliberately being dense. “You are a Deathcaller. Your touch awakens the dead. You will raise warriors to fight for us!”

John blinked. “Okay, first off, ew. Second, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

The shaman snarled and shoved a finger into John’s chest. The instant contact was made, a strange chill coursed through him, and a translucent menu suddenly appeared in front of his face.

[SYSTEM ACTIVATED]

Class Unlocked: Necromancer – Path of the Deathcaller

* Skill Tree Unlocked: Raise Undead (Level 0 – Novice)

* Requirement to Progress: Reanimate your first corpse.

* Note: “Only the worthy may command the dead. Prove your potential.”

“What... the actual hell?” John whispered, his eyes darting between the shaman and the glowing interface hovering in front of him.

“Do it!” the shaman hissed, pointing to a fallen villager nearby. “Call them back from Valhalla to fight for the living!”

John gagged. “You want me to—what—play corpse puppeteer?!”

“Would you prefer to die with nothing but that useless blade in your hand?” the shaman snapped.

A raider’s arrow whizzed past John’s head, embedding itself in a wooden post. He yelped and ducked instinctively, his heart hammering. The dead villager lay sprawled in the snow just a few feet away, his axe still clutched in stiff fingers.

The translucent menu flashed again.

[SYSTEM PROMPT]

* Skill Activated: Raise Undead

* Mana Cost: 20

* Current Mana: 100

[Would you like to summon?]

[YES] [NO]

John glanced at the corpse lying in the snow, its eyes staring blankly at the sky. He wrinkled his nose, steeling himself. “This is disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. Why couldn’t it be summoning puppies or something?”

He focused on the glowing [YES] button, and the instant he mentally selected it, icy energy surged through him. The sensation was sharp and cold, like being electrocuted by frost. His hands began to tremble, and his breath came out in short, visible bursts.

The corpse twitched violently.

John stumbled back as the ground beneath the body froze solid, frost spider-webbing out in jagged patterns. The corpse convulsed again, harder this time, before the most horrifying thing John had ever seen happened.

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The flesh began to slough off.

With a sickening schlurp, the skin and muscle peeled away, staying behind on the frozen ground like discarded clothing. The skeleton within, impossibly clean and white, rose jerkily to its feet, dragging the tattered clothes and rusted armor it had worn in life. Its weapon clattered briefly in its hand before settling into a loose but functional grip.

John gaped, his stomach churning. “Oh my god. Oh my god. That is NOT okay.”

[UNDEAD SUMMONED: 1/1]

* Unit Type: Skeletal Warrior

* Status: Functional – Flesh discarded

* Mana Remaining: 80

The skeleton turned toward him, its empty eye sockets glowing faintly blue. It stood unnaturally still, waiting for his command. The clean, almost pristine look of its bones contrasted eerily with the tattered clothes and weapon it carried. Behind it, the remains of its former flesh glistened in a pile on the ground, steaming faintly in the cold air.

John gagged, holding his stomach. “Did it just…did it leave its meat suit behind?!”

The shaman cackled, clearly delighted. “Yes! The gods bless us! A warrior reborn, purified of its mortal trappings!”

“Purified?! That’s a pile of goo!” John yelled, pointing at the sticky remains. 

The shaman ignored him, raising his arms to the sky. “Command it! Use your will to guide the dead!”

Another arrow thudded into the snow nearby. The raiders were closing in fast.

John straightened and pointed toward the approaching enemy. “Fine! You…uh…attack them!”

The skeleton turned its head with an audible crack, then lurched forward with stiff, deliberate steps. Its weapon dragged in the snow before it swung upward, clanging awkwardly against a raider’s shield. The impact startled the man enough to push him back, but the skeleton’s swing lacked finesse—or coordination.

Still, it had done its job: the raider was now off-balance, leaving an opening for another villager to drive a spear into his side.

John blinked at the spectacle, torn between horror and amazement. “Okay, so... it works. Kind of.”

As the battle raged on, the translucent menu flickered again:

[SYSTEM PROMPT]

* Mana Remaining: 80

* Warning: Summoning additional units will reduce overall combat efficiency of existing summons. Proceed with caution.

“Great. A quality-over-quantity warning,” John muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. “Why not just say, ‘Don’t be an idiot’?”

The shaman pointed to another fallen villager. “Raise another! The gods demand more warriors!”

John looked down at his rapidly draining mana bar, then back at the fresh corpse. He shuddered.

“I can’t believe this is my life now,” he muttered. “Fine, but I’m going to need so much therapy after this.”

As he braced himself to summon another undead, he couldn’t help but glance at the pile of discarded flesh left behind by the first skeleton.

“Still gross,” he whispered, shaking his head.

The raiders stormed through the broken gates of the village, their weapons gleaming and their guttural war cries echoing in the cold air. John stumbled backward, clutching his rusty sword like it might turn into something useful if he wished hard enough. Around him, the villagers fought with savage desperation, spears clashed against axes, and the snow was quickly stained with crimson.

The skeleton he’d summoned was doing its best, or rather, its bare minimum. It swung its axe clumsily, more of a distraction than a true combatant, but it managed to keep one raider occupied long enough for a villager to land a killing blow.

A system prompt flickered into John’s vision as the skeleton staggered forward, its left arm dangling precariously.

[UNDEAD STATUS UPDATE: 60% Integrity Remaining]

* “May fall apart in 2-3 blows. Consider reinforcements.”

“I’m not sure what’s worse,” John muttered, ducking as a raider’s axe cleaved through the air above his head, “the fact that this is happening or the fact that I’ve got tech support for a skeleton.”

The raiders were relentless, pushing the villagers back toward the center of the settlement. Fires spread across rooftops, the thatched huts lighting up like kindling. The air reeked of smoke, blood, and burning straw.

A nearby villager screamed as a raider’s sword pierced his chest, his body crumpling into the snow.

“Raise another!” the shaman yelled, pointing to the fresh corpse. “We need every soul that can stand!”

John’s heart raced. His mana bar was down to half, and he already felt like he’d been running a marathon in a blizzard. “I’m going to regret this,” he muttered, reaching for the system prompt.

The second skeleton clawed its way free of the flesh and snow, rising unsteadily to join its skeletal sibling.

John’s makeshift warband of two skeletons managed to buy the villagers a few precious seconds, their crude, erratic swings distracting the raiders enough for others to land fatal blows. But it wasn’t enough. The raiders outnumbered the villagers two to one, and their leader, a massive man with a horned helmet and a mace the size of a tree trunk, was cutting through defenders like a scythe through wheat.

John’s chest tightened. He wasn’t a warrior. He didn’t belong here. And yet, as he looked around, he realized something terrifying: these people were going to die if someone didn’t do something.

His skeletons weren’t enough. His sword was a joke. He didn’t have any secret tricks up his sleeve. All he had was his system... and a fresh wave of corpses littering the battlefield.

[SYSTEM PROMPT]

* Mass Summoning Unlocked (Emergency Mode): Raise all available corpses within a 20-foot radius.

* Mana Cost: 40 (High drain; temporary summons).

* Warning: May cause severe stamina depletion and mental strain.

[Activate Mass Summoning?]

[YES] [NO]

John hesitated, staring at the glowing prompt. The shaman was shouting something about destiny, but his voice blurred into the background. This was it. Either he risked passing out, or worse, or he let the village fall.

He slammed the [YES] button with his mind.

The world slowed.

Frost spider-webbed across the ground in all directions, and an icy wind howled as the corpses littering the battlefield twitched and writhed. One by one, they rose—a chaotic, mismatched army of undead warriors, some missing limbs, others still clutching their weapons.

John felt the cold clawing at his mind, his stamina bar flashing red. His vision blurred, and he could barely stand, but he gritted his teeth and shouted the only command he could think of:

“ATTACK!”

The skeletons surged forward like a tide of bone and steel, crashing into the raiders with reckless abandon. The distraction was enough to turn the tide. The villagers rallied, striking back with renewed ferocity.

John collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath as his undead warband tore through the raiders. The massive leader swung his mace, shattering two skeletons, but it wasn’t enough. The combined might of the villagers and the undead overwhelmed him, and he fell with a roar, impaled by a villager’s spear.

The battlefield fell silent, save for the crackling of flames and the groans of the wounded. The remaining raiders fled into the woods, their morale shattered.

John sat in the snow, utterly drained. His undead army crumbled to dust one by one, their magic spent. The system prompt flickered again, filling his vision.

[SYSTEM UPDATE: EXPERIENCE EARNED]

EXP Breakdown:

* Skeleton 1: 1 Raider Kill = +50 EXP

* Skeleton 2: 2 Raider Kills = +100 EXP

* Mass Summoning Horde: 8 Raider Kills = +400 EXP

* Bonus (Defeating Raider Leader): +250 EXP

* Bonus (Turning the Tide of Battle): +100 EXP

Total EXP Earned: 900 EXP

Level-Up Threshold Reached!

John’s head tilted back, his breath steaming in the cold air. The blue bar labeled [EXP] in the corner of his vision suddenly filled, flashing brightly before a new notification appeared.

[LEVEL UP!]

* Current Level: 1 → 2

* Skill Points Gained: +3

* Attribute Points Gained: +2

* New Skill Available: “Bone Armor (Level 0): Summon temporary skeletal plating to protect yourself. Costs 15 Mana. Duration: 1 minute.”

John blinked at the notifications, a weak laugh bubbling out of him. “Great. Now I can protect myself. Could’ve used that before almost dying.”

“You don’t look like much of a warrior.”

The voice was soft, almost musical, with a hint of amusement. John squinted, his vision blurry, as a figure approached him.

She was tall, with wild blonde hair braided down one side and eyes like the frozen sea. She wore leather armor that fit her like a second skin and carried a double-bladed axe over one shoulder as if it weighed nothing.

“Uh... thanks?” John croaked. “I try to stay consistent.”

She crouched beside him, studying him with a mix of curiosity and mischief. “I saw what you did. Raising the dead to fight for the living? That’s... different.”

“Different good or different bad?”

She smiled, a sharp, confident grin. “That depends. Can you teach them to fetch?”

John blinked. “Wait, what?”

She extended a hand, pulling him to his feet with surprising strength. “I’m Freya. Let’s just say I have a... flexible opinion about the gods and their rules. You might be useful.”

John stared at her, his mind still spinning. “Yeah, well, I’m super useful. Ask anyone. Or don’t. That works too.”

Freya smirked, her blue eyes glinting. “Come on, Bone Caller. The village owes you a feast... and probably some medical attention.”

As Freya helped him limp back toward the battered village, the system flashed one last prompt across his vision:

[QUEST COMPLETED!]

* Title: "Defend the Village"

* Rewards: +50 Gold (collected from the raiders’ bodies), +1 Reputation (Village), +10 Reputation (Freya).

[Next Quest Available: “Rebuild and Prepare”]

* Objective: Help the village recover from the attack. Secure supplies, fortify defenses, and prepare for future raids.

* Bonus Objective: Recruit at least one ally to assist with survival.

John groaned, stumbling over a charred log. “Rebuild and prepare? Oh, fantastic. Because I was so good at preparing for this mess.”

Freya glanced at him, her grin returning. “Welcome to the clan, Bone Caller. Try not to die before you get good at it.”

And so, with his mana drained, his clothes singed, and his first level-up under his belt, John Harper took his first steps into a world that would challenge him far more than any game ever could.