(panting) Yeah, nope, fuck that. I mean, it looks kinda weak, but zombies? Nope, nope nope nope. Fuck off. Not doing it. I’m taking my single trait — and leaving, thank you very much! (sighing) It’s one thing from the other side of a screen, but this? Eugh. Hell to the no. That thing had these god awful, horrifying looking holes all over it, topped off with some sort of worm poking out of a few. Seriously, who made those and thought it was a good idea? (twig snapping) Jesus! (slow exhale) Fucking Christ. I stepped on a stick, and that’s apparently enough to make me jump out of my skin right now. That’s how bad they are! Zombies are creepy enough when it’s just a good old fashioned, rotting body that moves. Yeah — yeah, I know, it’s been done to hell by holly wood, but us being desensitized to the concept doesn’t, magically make it less scary in person, you know? Why couldn’t it be something normal, like a slime? In some ways, a living ball of acid is definitely scarier than a shuffling corpse, sure but — gah! (leaves rustle) At least a slime would be… I don’t know, featureless? Way harder to be scared shitless of than a fucking zombie, at least! (leaves rustling) Agh, I guess I’m just… (rapid footsteps) wait, what’s oh my god! (loud footsteps, leaves rustling) Leave me the fuck alone! (growling) Get away (growling, screaming, heavy impacts) (screaming) {RECORDING TERMINATED: USER DECEASED}
Transcript of Will, Conqueror of Death’s second memo.
----------------------------------------
It was hell.
But now he knew it was a hell he could overcome, and nothing else mattered. Eventually, he would be the last corpse standing in this entire rotting forest. Eventually, he would be free. The future was still too far off for him to taunt himself with ‘what ifs’ and tentative plans. But there was a future. He was Will, Conqueror of Death, and he would conquer the dead too. The only thing that could stand between him and escape now was time, and he had all the time in the world. The breakthrough brought Will no joy, no excitement. Only cold, unwavering determination remained in his heart, dampening the horror and the pain just enough for him to push forward. The repeated death and dismemberment was now made bearable by the knowledge it would one day end. He couldn’t even remember how many times he’d died — but for a grim tally that floated across his vision every time it faded to black.
{ Trait: Deathless (R1): 707 / 100000 SXP to Rank 2. }
Seven-hundred-and-seven experience points. Seven-hundred-and-seven deaths. Ten hours times seven-hundred-and-seven was over seven-thousand hours spent respawning. Twenty-four hours in a day. Twenty-four times a hundred was two-thousand four-hundred, times three was… seven-thousand two-hundred. He’d spent almost three-hundred days just staring into the strange void of being he existed in between deaths. The math should have horrified him, but he couldn’t muster a reaction to it. He was mildly surprised it had been so long, but that was as much room as he had in his mind for it. There was just… too much other stuff. Too many gruesome deaths, too much violence, too much pain. Most of his energy was being spent on simply keeping himself going.
Fortunately, I can while away some of the time deciding how to allocate my resources.
{ Will, Conqueror of Death (L2) }
{ 3 / 25 XP to Level 3. }
{ Titles }
N/A
{ Attributes }
AGI: 104
CON: 100
DEX: 100
FIN: 100
PER: 100
SPR: 100
STR: 110
VIT: 100
{ Skills }
( Brawler (R2): 3 / 25 SXP to Rank 3. )
+10 to STR, +4 to AGI, +skill with fisticuffs.
{ Traits }
( Deathless (R1): 707 / 100000 SXP to Rank 2. )
When killed, you return to perfect health after 10 hours at the location of your demise.
6 unspent Attribute Points
1 unspent Skill Point
Across four more deaths, he’d killed four more Shamblers — two level twos, and two level threes, netting ten experience. It had been enough to level him up and get an extra rank behind Brawler. Now, he had points to put to use. The attribute points would add up eventually. He knew that. The skill point was where the money was, though. There was a little window open where he could purchase new skills with his points. Most of the skills he could unlock with points required more than one, meaning he was limited to the lowest-tier picks at this point. Still, there were some tempting options available to him. Ten seconds of stone-skin didn’t sound like much, but ten seconds was far longer than he usually lasted once he was surrounded. It also lent a little extra punch to his punches, which would probably have him killing zombies a few seconds quicker. When his arena was perpetually shrinking inward, those few seconds were precious. A weak fire-bolt was also tempting, but despite the horrors within, he couldn’t convince himself that setting the entire forest on fire was a good idea. Burning alive was probably a lot slower than being eaten, by his reasoning.
There were also a couple skills that offered smaller boosts to his physical ability. An increase to his running speed, and small additions to AGI. Jump height and STR. Reflexes and DEX. There were more powerful versions of all of those available for more skill points, but these ones could likely all be ranked up without much issue. The ‘higher tier’ versions also looked like more specialized versions, granting specific abilities instead of increasing general ability. While he was sure that such specialization would prove powerful in the long run, his current situation called for him to simply be better. The Hungering hosts were just wandering husks. Some had more impressive physical abilities than others, but there was nothing special about them aside from their apparent undeath. With that in mind…
Put all six points into strength, and unlock Spring-Jointed with my skill point.
{ Attribute Points allocated. }
{ Skill Points allocated. }
{ Skill Acquired: Spring-Jointed (R1)! 0 / 10 SXP to Rank 2. }
{ Skill: Spring-Jointed (R1) Benefits: +2 DEX }
Non-attribute benefits were hidden in the notifications, but he could view the full benefits of his new skill by pulling up his character sheet again. He’d already read the full description before purchasing it though, so there was little need. The only other benefit was heightened reflexes, but that was a boon in and of itself, even if the effect was minor. Reflexive reactions exist for situations where there’s limited time to act, where even a tenth of a second saved was worth it. The Shamblers may not call for quick reactions, but the Lurkers and Sprinters sure did. Heightened reflexes would keep him alive longer for every death, and the added strength would see him killing zombies faster than before. The snowball had started rolling. There was just one problem.
Stolen novel; please report.
Now what do I do with my time?
{ 06:57:21 }
Fear, and boredom. The two greatest enemies of his heart.
… Nice weather, at least?
There was no weather. He was dead.
----------------------------------------
He picked himself up from where he had fallen dead the last time, instantly drawing the attention of the horde. Gurgling growls and crunching leaves flooded his ears as the Hungering started their approach. By now though, he’d heard the sound too many times before to let it bother him. After all, he was Will, Conqueror of Death! Being the ultimate killing machine he was, he scanned the crowd for stragglers, but didn’t manage to find one. That was unfortunate. He’d have to separate one from its neighbors, wasting precious time. He approached a spot where the crowd was relatively thin; there was one zombie accompanied by only a single fellow. Riskier than a single target, but then again, there was no risk for him. It was better than nothing.
Once more, he sprinted towards the Shambler he’d marked.
Once again, it swiped at him as he got close. They always did that.
He ducked again, but this time grabbed it by the arm — its buddy was nearly in range to cause problems.
He began running towards a clear area, zombie in tow, trying to hold its arm at an awkward angle so it couldn’t claw him with the other.
It was sure trying to, but so far it was working.
When he reached a suitable tree to smash a head against, he pulled the zombie forward, flinging it against the trunk.
It had its back to him this time. Perfect.
Thud. He gripped the back of its skull in his hand, smashing it against the tree as hard as he could manage. Thud. He drew enough blood to leave a visible stain on the bark. Thud. It tried to claw at him, but undeath hadn’t done wonders on the joints. Thud. A small squirt of blood. Thud. He grunted as it managed to leave small scratches along his sides. Thud. A little give. Thud. A little more. CRACK! A small splash of blood wet his hands, and the Shambler slumped over in his grip. He let it drop to the ground.
“I am Will, Conqueror of Death,” he declared.
{ Will, Conqueror of Death (L2) has defeated Hungering Shambler (L3)! 3 XP awarded. }
{ XP: 6 / 25 to Level 3. }
{ 3 SXP awarded to Brawler (R2)! 6 / 25 SXP to Rank 3. }
----------------------------------------
Two more Shamblers fell before he did, reduced to but another five experience points on his character sheet, and then it was back to the waiting. The insufferable waiting. Ten more hours of utter sensory deprivation, followed by brief resurrection before inevitable death. It was an exhausting cycle, and he was sure that the first thing he’d do when he got out of this forest was sleep for a very long time. Not the pseudo-rest of resurrection that left him fully lucid, but true sleep. The prospect gave him phantom chills — a luxury so basic as sleep. He mentally chuckled at that morbid thought.
Sleep is a necessity for survival, and here I am calling it a ‘luxury.’
That said, it had an uncanny level of accuracy when survival itself was a luxury rather than necessity.
… Why do I have this trait? ‘Deathless?’ Did I… choose this? Or was it forced upon me…
For once, his agitated heart was still enough to let him ponder, not his circumstances, but himself.
Guided by a faint itching at the back of his imaginary skull — he tried something new.
… Options.
{ Status }
{ History }
{ Bestiary }
{ Notes }
{ Memos }
A new window appeared before him. He had never known he could summon this one — at least, he didn’t think so. Did he…? That… well, his memories were fuzzy, but… surely he couldn’t forget something that seemed so… basic? Much less something important.
And yet in spite of his uncertainties, the itch persisted — strengthened even — and his focus settled on the tab labeled {Memos}.
It took no more than this for the tab to expand, revealing seven distinct entries.
Well, seven named entries. There were several more, but they all remained mysteriously unmarked.
The one at the top made him immediately uneasy. ‘William, Conqueror of Death.’
He didn’t remember making this. He… knew that certain things were, well, fuzzy, but…
His mounting unease wasn’t enough to stifle his curiosity.
Play.
“Alright! Is this wor— oh, yeah, there’s little words popping up down there and everything.”
A hauntingly familiar voice echoed through the usually silent oblivion. It sounded so… excited.
“Uh, right, recording. Well! First day on a brand new world. That is just — god, that is so awesome.”
A deep, masculine voice permeated the nameless space. It could have been taken for an adult man’s, but the sheer wonder in his tone made him sound… almost like a kid, really. For a solid minute, he was just talking about mundane, if confusing, things. Something called an ‘isekai,’ a strange ‘operator’ entity, and ‘Ability Points’ that Will hadn’t heard of, as well as the more familiar skills and traits. The amazement and innocence so readily palpable in his voice caught him completely off guard — when a trait called ‘Deathless’ was mentioned. And again when the voice declared himself as none other than ‘Will, Conqueror of Death!’
“A bit on-the-nose, yeah, but—”
The voice paused to listen to what he swore were muffled Shambler footsteps.
“Woah, what’s that thing?”
The recording abruptly ended, presumably the voice’s doing. Will’s doing.
His mind reeled as he tried to process what he’d just listened to. That… was him? How had he forgotten? Now that he knew there was a flaw to be looking for — his memory just felt so incomplete looking back. It even dawned on him that he’d stared it in the face before and somehow not registered what was right in front of him. Even the bits that were blurry seemed… the same. As if it was just more memories of the same thing he’d been repeating for… as long as he could remember. For three hundred days, according to the math. The number took on an entirely new light. Those three hundred days, this endless cycle of violence… it was all he could remember. He was supposed to have so much more than that! A family, a home, a — a life. But it was all just… gone. Like none of it had existed. It had to exist. Right? Then the worst realization of all sank in.
‘I’ve even decided on what my name will be in this world.’
His name was never Will. That was just a construct.
… How did I lose so much?
A hollowness he hadn’t even realized he felt burned a hole in his chest.
Will had just realized that a core part of his identity — or rather, his entire identity — was simply absent. That his name wasn’t even ‘Will.’ Where the Hungering filled him with horror, this… this filled him with despair. So much just didn’t make sense anymore. Entire words and concepts he’d listened to in the recording were missing from his mind, save for a nagging feeling that he should know what they meant. He had listened to his own voice and… hadn’t even recognized it as his. His mind struggled to comprehend its own failings, its own… incompletion. A feeling of lucidity enveloped him, as if he had been trapped on some lower level of consciousness and only just broken free. As if he had suddenly begun to think in three dimensions.
There were six more named entries. Six more pieces of himself, lost somewhere along the way.
I’m… not ready for this.
He glanced at the timer.
{ 09:37:46 }
The ten hours seemed to have somehow grown even longer than before.
In that moment, Will, Conqueror of Death, wished nothing more than to sleep and be rid of conscious thought.
But as bone-tired as he was — there was no rest for the weary.