Mortimer didn't know if it was minutes, hours, or days before his mind came back to the front. But when it did, he did take that long to notice what had happened around him. The shattered, bloody, and broken remains of three corpses littered the floor, and for the first time in awhile, Mortimer didn't feel hungry anymore. The spark of intelligence glowed a little brighter, and Mortimer looked down at himself. His body was mostly intact again, though still charred in places. The rotted flesh taking on shades of purples and greens as whatever flowed through him tried to repair the damage he took. What was odd was the obscene bulges across his body. With no small amount of confusion, Mortimer pressed as hard as he could against one of them and nearly threw up.
By the gods, you're dumb. You're human sized. You can't fit 3 humans worth of flesh down your damnable gob without some consequences. The good news is your regeneration is burning through all that flesh and magic at warp speed. You might even qualify for half-wit by the time it's all done.
Mortimer still didn't understand most of the words the mean box used, but as the remaining brain cells knit themselves together more and more, he felt consciousness returning, understanding growing, and new thoughts. He began to understand that the person who blasted him with that white light was a cleric. They had the power to cleanse undeath, and could reduce a zombie like him to ash. But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he felt the grogginess of mental exertion pound into him like a tidal wave. As the embers of thought dimmed but not quite died, he understood that his mind was fragile and easily exhausted, and promptly forgot both points as he slid back into mindlessness.
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The next few days passed in the same way. Brief moments where he could begin to touch the mind he had before death, before the exhaustion set back in and his mind would collapse back into the darkness. His body continued to regenerate, and in his mindlessness, proceeded to polish off the rest of the adventurers' flesh. After nearly a week, he had already devoured the last of it, and the hunger had begun to truely set in.
The changes to Mortimer's body and mind would have been considered staggering though. Gone was the charred flesh, the greens and purples beginning to fade, and the skin was tightly wrapped around a solid musculature. If not for the staggering walk and zombified groaning, he would have almost passed for a throughly thrashed human. As the structure of his brain restored itself the moments of lucidity and understanding came quicker and lasted longer. Unfortunately, because of the total shutdown of higher thought whenever he pushed to hard, Mortimer hadn't really moved passed the revelations from a week ago regarding his victims.
But now he had a mission again. Seek more flesh. With an understanding that he hadn't had before, he knew that in order for him to regain what he once was, he was going to have to eat the flesh of the living. It was the most potent healing he could get at the moment, and let him heal beyond the boundries of the undead. In one of his more lucid moments, he did fear if the restoring of his flesh was rotting his soul, but that particular thought knocked his brain out of commission for nearly a day afterwards, and he didn't feel like dwelling on it for too long.
Mortimer finally took the time to look over what eating the adventuring party had given him. A week of near constant regeneration finally gave his mind the ability to comprehend his status again. It also gave him a strength level well over what he had as a living human. Even with the Undead Strength turned down, he could still hit harder than he could before his untimely demise.
Undead Strength: Strike out against your enemies with absolutely zero concern for your physical health or well-being. Your body will naturally use its full available strength for every action in combat, increasing your strength output several times over at the cost of literally ripping your muscles apart.
His Luck was the same as it was a living person, and he vaguely recalled the box getting upset at him over it. Not certain what that was about. His Charisma was just above the lowest possible, which made sense to him as he was literally dead and rotting. The healing of his brain had granted him a meager intelligence and will. The good news was, that because he still had his soul, it buffed his will against effects and abilities that would instantly kill undead. A final once over of his status before he felt his mind flickering was that he was closing in on his next level of Zombie, but more importantly, the restoration of his body and mind placed him at the cusp of being able to reclaim some of what he once was, and take on a class.
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With the last dregs on his mind sinking back down, he also remembered something the box told him. He could pick what kind of zombie he was. Curious about what that meant, he brought up his status again. He saw the notification in his status asking him if he wanted to evolve. Even though he still had rather large holes in his memories, he remembered it was something monsters could do to grow beyond their limits. So he guessed he really wasn't human anymore. Although the blood and viscera that remained around him hinted at that pretty strongly. So with the last shreds of his humanity sighing in loss, he pressed the notification.
Congratulations. You've managed to figure out the simplest of menu functions. I swear to gods, you make goblins look like geniuses. So you get to pick one of them. ONE. Whichever one you hit first. Because I will not be here all day holding your half rotten hand. I'm running out of hand sanitizer.
Stitcher Graft the body parts of your victims on to your own. Immense physical power, with limited mind. Grafted parts will provide bonus appropriate stats and abilities. Grafted parts will rot overtime, diminishing this bonus. Plague Become infectious. Your entire body carries the ability to turn others undead. Claws, bites, or bodily fluids carry the ability to raise a fallen victim as a mindless Zombie. Further evolutions expand the types of zombies you can create, and even provide a measure of control over them. Magic Tap into the magical forces that sustain you, and unlock their power. Grants spellcasting abilities and related powers. Dramatically improves mental abilities, at the cost of diminish physicality. Purified Purifies your flesh, restoring you to an almost human like state. You are still undead, but can pass as human, and are treated as human for most magical effects. Skeleton Strip your flesh away, relying on magical energy to keep a humanoid form. Immune to most forms of damage, and a limited ability to use magic. Severely limited stat growth.
Ignoring the snarky menu box, Mortimer read over the list of options, only partially understanding the differences, but wanting to make the decision before he went mindless again and chose something truely stupid. Skeleton was interesting for a moment because he didn't want to die again. Purified would make him almost human again, but as is fading humanity reminded him, he was better off as a monster as he had been as a human. He was stronger, faster (if only temporarily) and already a much better combatant. He had only been a level one Fighter in his past life, never having had any talent for stealth or magic. Which probably contributed to his quick and untimely death. The experience of a being fighter made the Stitcher seem almost ideal, able to take the best of his enemies to make himself stronger. But his mind had come back enough to understand just how much of it was still gone, and hated how empty it made him feel, despite only just beginning to get hungry.
As the last sparks dimmed and his mind sank back under, he clicked the button. And then Mortimer screamed as every inch of his body ripped itself apart simultaneously.
There may be hope for you yet...