Chapter Twenty-Seven: First Time Seeing Your Corpse? Jamie, Run 2, Part 1

I awoke with a start. The cloth clinging to my frame was sticky with sweat, and my hair felt damp, too. For whatever reason, my pillows were gone, and then I remembered. Penance. Malice. Malikap. I threw up off the side of the bed, the disorientation of my situation making me sick, and then hid myself under the covers, hiding my sickness and the truth. If I closed my eyes, I would wake up, right? I couldn’t be dead. I couldn’t.

Despite my waking sweat, the room was cold, and a chill seeped into my bones as I shivered under the blanket. The walls, once a comforting shade of pale blue inlaid with gold leaf patterns, now seemed oppressive, closing in with each shallow breath I took. A thin layer of dust covered everything, undisturbed except for the eerie path from the door to my corpse. I closed my eyes quickly as if, by not seeing, it would all disappear.

A few minutes passed, and I was certain that if I opened them, I would return to my real room instead of this sick joke of a replacement. Malice finally spoke, shattering the illusion.

[Run 2! Run 2! Oh, this is so exciting! You have Malice Points! Together, we can Malice, our enemies. I’m even going to give you a one-time discount. But only if you get out of bed. This is kinda sad.]

I pulled my arm against my face and rested my eyes in the crook of my elbow. I ignored the wetness but wallowed in my pain. I was a good person, right? I knew the things Father made me do weren't always good, but the decisions I could make were good: Rod, the orphans, refusing the royal bed chamber, and letting the head maid keep her job.

The screams echoed into the room and pierced my heart. Yet another selfish choice. I screamed, covering the noise and blocking everything out but the heavy beats of my heart.

[What a baby. C’mon, this is your second time dying; you didn’t act this bad last time. I wanna go kill things… come on…] I shook my head and screamed louder, blocking out the noise. If I screamed loud enough, I would never have to face anything.

[Look, I get that I’m not so good at the touchy-feely stuff, but cowering in here and screaming so loud that all the zombies on the floor can hear you isn’t exactly following Elric’s survival plan.]

My mind left the pain momentarily and wandered to thoughts of Doctor Tot teaching me everything I needed to know about Penance. Doctor Tot had been my private tutor until the day before my naming day, when my father decided I no longer needed instruction. As if education truly stopped at 16, there was so much more I wanted to explore about the world and more I needed to see. And I would never get that chance. Wait, how could I remember him? Wasn’t my memory supposed to be erased?

[You’ll never get the chance to leave if you keep moping here, acting like the world has already ended for you. This is penance. Strive to take a chance for yourself, to prove you have what it takes to do what only Elric, the Merchant, Rellum, and Malikap have done. Become a God.]

I laughed bitterly, “Winning penance doesn’t make you a god, and even if it did, why would I ever want to be one?”

[Because, if you left here, you could fix everything your father had broken: Rod’s death, your death, even your mother’s.]

At the mention of my mother, everything changed. My eyes widened, and I shot up in bed—or at least, that was what I pictured happening. Instead, I caught my arms in the blanket and tumbled out of bed.

[Classic Jamie move.] Malice barked a laugh. [Now, c’mon, we also have a deal to get back to. Treasure, treasure!] I imagined Malice as a little kid, pumping his arms up and down above his head as he ran back and forth shouting ‘treasure.’ [Oh wait. Malice points! I’m so excited. Each point does one of two things for you. It's great because the other systems are so complicated. Don’t even get me started on how much there is to death boons.] If the crystal could shudder, then it did.

[Be glad Malikap is your patron; this could’ve taken an hour. For our purposes, it costs 2 points to unlock a class, with the half-off bonus, or you can increase every stat by 1 for 4 malice points. Exciting, right?]

“Stats, classes? What?” I shook my head, making sure I had heard him properly. The Book of Blood had never covered this.

[Hush, dear, it's simple. There are 8 stats; you'll learn them as we go. They make you stronger, healthier, quicker, blah, blah, blah. It's not important. Oh, and classes—there are so many, but Malikap lets you choose them. I think pirate should be the first class. Or maybe mage. Whichever you pick, it's going to be fun, though. Oh, I’m just so excited to eat another zombie.]

“Oh, I don’t care; why don’t you pick for me, Malice, since you are so excited.”

[Oh really, you’d let me do that? Can I? Can I? Can I?]

I pinched the bridge of my nose, wanting to throw something at the crystal. Instead, I just picked myself up off the floor, draping the blanket over myself back into a makeshift toga... before remembering about my corpse.

I looked around the room, eyes darting everywhere but to the end of that trail of dust, my pulse threatening to dig a hole out of my neck. I couldn’t put it off anymore; I had to look. It was surreal, with copper hair, blue eyes, a small button nose, a petite fit, and perfect, manicured nails. I was staring at myself. There was something hauntingly serene about the corpse's face as if it were in death; it had found the peace that eluded it in life. Yet, the slight furrow between the brows suggested a lingering worry, a final thought frozen forever on its pallid face. What had I been thinking at the end? The thought tormented me, an unanswered question hanging heavy in the stale air.

As I stood over the corpse—my corpse—a wave of nausea overtook me. The room seemed to tilt, the edges blurring into a tunnel vision centered on the still figure before me. My heart pounded loudly in my ears, a frantic drumbeat against the silence. I swallowed hard, fighting back the rising panic and the surreal horror of confronting my own mortality laid out before me. My stomach grumbled again, and I had to force down what was left... except there shouldn't be anything in it. I was dead; I hadn’t eaten anything since before Rod...

[Oh, this is always fun! Is this your first time seeing your corpse?] My pallid complexion was a ghastly mirror of my own, but my wide eyes, frozen in death, were something else entirely, and I could swear they positively glowed, tiny little embers sparkling above them. My stomach growled again, and the horrid stench that wafted my way almost knocked me over. I regretted getting out of bed already.

I hesitated, my hand trembling as it hovered over the cold, stiff arm of my own corpse. This was me, yet it felt like touching a grotesque statue in my likeness. The reality of my death, my actual, tangible death right in front of me, was a truth I wasn’t ready to confront. I froze, shocked at how rigor mortis had already set in; electricity shot up my arm, and a pit formed in my stomach. I had died. I was touching my corpse. I was smelling my own decay.

[Oh, I sure do love the smell of death in the morning. Ahhh.]

The urge to throw something at the crystal returned, and I didn’t resist this time. I threw the blanket off myself and wrapped it around the crystal above my head, suffocating the little freak and ending his tyranny over my loot.

Okay, I didn’t, but I definitely could have. Instead, I asked him a question and tried to ignore how much I was starting to hate him.

[Yes. Good. Let the hate flow through you.]

“Are you reading my thoughts?” I asked, hesitating. Had he heard my imagination running wild? “That wasn’t a real thought. It didn’t mean anything…”

[Relax. I know. Killing Me was just a fun little fantasy. Besides, I can't die, sadly. Imagine how much fun it would be if I could die alongside you.] Malice sighed dreamily.

“So you’re not mad?”

[I'm Malice. I’m never mad, but I am always thinking about how to hurt others and how to revel in pain and agony. It's oh so much fun once you give in! Oh, and if you want the chain mail, just kick your corpse with either foot, and I’ll automatically loot it for you.] Malice laughed as if it was the funniest joke in the world. It was hard to understand the emotions coming from Malice. Their inflection changed, but there was no face to the voice, just pitch-black ink that absorbed all light.

I shook my head to clear it and then kicked the corpse.

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Five items practically spilled off my corpse as it disintegrated against my foot: a chainmail vest whose sleeve hung over my shoe, a polearm that sliced against my bare skin, causing me to shout out in pain, and the same bounty of three different sizes and color potions.

I now had a weapon and something to cover a little of my modesty. "Okay, Malice, it's time to live up to your end of the bargain. Do you have someplace to hold these potions?"

[Oh yes! Treasure! I will gladly hold onto those potions. Won’t be of much use to you this run? We need to be much quicker if we want to use the Yrd, Vutr, and Xombi potions. It doesn't work on the already turned. Thoughts about whether that would be cool if it did?]

“Oh, alright, well. I best be going.”

[Wait, don't you want to know what I chose for you? I chose Paladin. Isn’t that funny? It’s a holy class, and here you are working for the father of sin and despair.]

“Oh yes, how clever.” As soon as I finished speaking, golden light encased my body, and I was lifted into the air, my chainmail and halberd clattering to the floor.

The magic engulfed me, and I fell to the ground with a loud metallic thunk.

Wait, a thunk? I moved my hand to my chest, expecting soft skin, but instead, I met thick, sturdy metal armor. My hands, now covered in the same shiny metal, thunked against the breastplate covering me. My head, too, was now covered in a chainmail coif.

"Wait, where did the armor come from?" I gasped, my voice echoing slightly under the metal helm. The armor was cold and unyielding against my skin, its weight unfamiliar and oppressive. As I struggled to my feet, the metal plates clinked together. Each movement was a chore, and the armor fought against every flex and bend of my muscles.

[That’s easy. Magic. Duh. So silly. And now you should be safe from the pesky zombies. Zombie teeth can’t exactly pierce steel, you know?] Malice laughed, and I felt tempted to say thanks but shook my head, ignoring it.

“So, is the armor the only thing being a Paladin brings to me? Or do I get something else out of the deal?”

[Paladins are holy knights of the church of Rellum. You get the turn undead spell and a minor healing spell; in addition, the class starts with a full suit of armor. Of all the base classes, it is the best one. Plus, you now have 20 hp. You are so welcome.]

"Spells, too?" I murmured, the idea of wielding magic sparking a flicker of excitement beneath the heavy layers of steel. That was one aspect of my life as a royal I had never experienced.

Why did my father always rob me of reality?

"How do those work?"

More laughter. Malice was enjoying himself too much. [Don’t worry, It’s magic. Don't even try wrapping your head around the rules. Just Do It.]

“Awesome. Is there anything else I should know before I go kill some zombies?”

[Don’t destroy the head, or the treasure will be destroyed.]

“But they’re zombies. Don’t I need to destroy the head?”

[No, not at all. This is Penance; everything has hp.] Malice laughed, and my goosebumps raised in protest. They did not like Malice at all.

I walked to the door, armor clanking loudly, before I struggled with it, generating even more noise for good measure. [Wait! Wait! Waity! Wait! We gotta give you statses!]

“What?” I said, my hand hesitant on the turned knob.

[You have Malice Points, which means stat boosts! So, did you want 2 potency, 2 vitality, or a plus 1 bonus to 3 different stats? Oh, this is so exciting.]

Jamie

Stat:

Level

Effect:

Health

20/20

Health is burned as fuel to keep you from dying.

Stamina

0/0

Stamina is burned as fuel to make skills function

Mana

30/30

Mana is burned as fuel to make skills function

Potency

0

Adds 1 point of damage to all physical attacks

Insight

0

Adds 1 point of damage to all magical attacks

Alacrity

0

Adds 1% to your movement speed every level.

Vitality

4

Adds 5 points of health per level

Finesse

3

Adds 5 points of stamina per level

Arcanum

6

Adds 5 points of mana per level

Defense

4

Blocks 1 point of damage from all physical attacks

Magic Defense

0

Blocks 1 point of damage from all magical attacks

Precision

5

Precision is the likelihood of your attacks hitting your target. Each point higher than the target’s evasion adds a 5% chance to hit.

Evasion

0

Evasion is the likelihood of your opponent's attacks missing. Each point higher than the target’s evasion adds a 5% chance to dodge.

A blue thing, almost like a giant parchment roll, flooded my vision to the point where I couldn’t see anything else. I swiped at it with my hands, but they passed right through it. “Malice, What are you doing? I can't see a thing!”

[What?] Innocence radiated from the crystal, almost making it seem like the shining beacon at every St. Rellum Church.

“The thing that popped up! I know it gives me stats, and I can raise them, but why is it so large? It’s like it's just there to take up space.” I waved a hand through it again, frustration evident in my movements and words.

[Fine.] Malice relented, making it much smaller and easier to read. I had a lot of 0’s. I glanced over everything, taking the time to memorize what everything did.

“We should go with the bonus to Vitality; I don’t want a repeat of last time where I died too quickly.”

My stats page updated, showing my vitality growing by two and my health increasing to thirty. I didn’t feel particularly healthier, but I trusted Malice enough to know he wasn’t lying about my stats.

I opened the door and walked into the hall only to find the three zombies from my previous run in front of the door, arms raised, faces scrunched in unending hunger.

I jumped back, an action slowed by the bulk of my armor, but swung the halberd forward at the same time to create space.

As the first zombie lunged, its gait awkward and desperate, I braced myself and thrust the halberd forward. The blade sank into its decaying flesh with a sickening squelch. I grimaced as I tried to pull the weapon free, the zombie's weight a dead anchor. Panic flickered through me as the other undead shambled closer, their groans a grotesque symphony in the cramped hallway. Making a decision, I pushed the halberd forward, throwing the first zombie back onto the ground, and charged forward with the momentum of the shove before rearing back my right arm into a curled fist.

My attack shattered zombie teeth as the momentum carried my blow forward.

The second zombie fell to the floor after losing its footing, so I turned my attention to the third zombie. Deciding to change tactics, I kicked the third zombie in the stomach.

“How am I looking on damage?” I asked as I ran forward, hoping to capitalize on my opening moves.

[Zombie 1 and 2 have four hp remaining, while Zombie three is sitting pretty at 8 hp.]

As I smashed my foot into the zombie's knee, the bone gave way with a grotesque crunch, a sound gruesomely satisfying in the silence of the corridor. I recoiled as the halberd, somehow upright, swung towards me, the staff end striking me sharply in the eye. Pain flashed through my head, bright and searing, blinding me momentarily and sending me to the floor in a clang of metal.

“How in the..." My hands instinctively reached for my eye, expecting blood, but found nothing—just the cold touch of my gauntlet. I quickly scrambled to my feet.

The metallic taste of fear was in my mouth as I pushed myself off the floor. My armor clanged loudly, a constant, cumbersome companion in this fight. I charged forward, shoulder first, using the heft of my steel-clad body to drive the remaining zombies against the wall. Their bodies hit with a thud, the impact echoing down the empty hall.

[Woohoo! We won! We won!] Malice's voice cut through the din, his glee starkly contrasting my fatigue.

“What are you talking about? You didn’t even help!” I gasped out, my breath heavy, each word punctuated by my panting.

"Nuh-uh. I told you how much HP they had, and my magic created the armor." His retort was smug, as if he had swung the halberd himself.

I leaned against the cool wall, letting its firmness support my tired body. The adrenaline was fading, leaving behind a deep, bone-weary exhaustion.

"Fighting in armor is hard," I muttered to myself, more a realization than a complaint.