Standing at the top of my ziggurat, surrounded by my guild members and NPCs who’d joined our cause, we basked in the city smoldering below. This ziggurat had once been a temple to a god, and now it was ours.

The battle to take the city had proven fierce. Hordes of zombies and skeletons battered the walls. And as the fortifications fell, my army surged, sweeping over the city like a wave of death, killing all who got in its way.

Our attack was swift and brutal, wiping out the lesser cities before they even stood a chance.

That city was the last bastion of resistance against our armies—a nation of priests crumbling before us. The temple was defiled, turned to our own purposes, and the vessel meticulously prepared. The city itself had become bloated with the death energy of all of those slain. Now at the heart of our new undead nation, everything had been arranged for my final step.

With a brief effort of will, my blade-staff transformed back into a regular staff, and the blade humming with death magic vanished. This weapon was bound to me. A scaling weapon I found long ago that had grown in power with me. Now well past my second soul compression, the weapon was nigh unstoppable, and those who felt my blade would rise to serve me. Dare I say, I was a one-man army.

“Are you ready, my lord?” Vito asked, his strong voice drawing my attention away from the city below.

The vampire stood near the center of the ziggurat. Around him were the other NPCs who would be performing the ritual. Notably, there were no players involved. While my guild helped me reach this point, I didn’t trust any of them. They’d done so thinking it would be fun to create a nation of undeath.

We were all here for the same reasons; mostly to blow off steam. If that meant stabbing your friends in the back, people would not hesitate. Vito and the NPCs with him were my own personal retainers, and all had sworn undying loyalty to me.

“Yes, I think I am. It would be a shame to waste all this potent magic.”

“All of you, leave,” Vito snapped at the loitering players.

While my guildmates might be technically stronger, my loyal servants were still powerful. Good-natured grumblings and mutterings abounded, but they understood.

As Vito made sure the last of the players left, I made my way to the center of the ziggurat where the altar waited. On the altar sat a black vase covered in gold runes, a gem containing a powerful soul, and a dagger made of obsidian, laced with glowing purple runes. Standing before the altar, I took deep breaths to calm my nerves, reminding myself this was just a game. Sometimes it felt so real, it became easy to forget that.

“Let us begin,” I said.

Vito wordlessly helped me out of my battle robes, and I laid down on the altar next to the items. Projecting the spell into the world above, a spell diagram written in purple magic appeared rotating before me. Some of my retainers began to chant, pouring their own magic in. When the diagram swelled until it spread over the whole ziggurat, it began drawing magic from the city. The death magic swirled overhead, its growing power palpable.

When the spell reached its peak, Vito’s training took over. With an effort of will, I managed to push a sliver of my soul up into the diagram. My part was done. All I had to do was hold his concentration.

Vito approached out of the corner of my eye. He picked up the soul gem and the dagger. There was a crack as he drove the dagger into the gem, the weapon soaking in the pure, blue energy, and he met my gaze.

I bade him continue with a sharp nod, then braced myself for what would come next. This was the hardest part. There came a sharp pain as he used the knife now glowing with the etheric blue soul energy to cut into my chest. I used the pain to focus my will, driving my soul deeper into the magic. Vito worked diligently, removing organs and placing them into the jar. As he did, death magic from the spell above trickled into my body.

And the pain seemed to go on forever.

Once Vito was done, the burning pain in my chest faded as the death magic was restored. My sight was fuzzy. There was a flash of blue energy—Vito using the soul blade to cut the tether of my soul connecting me to the diagram. Leaving that piece I’d pushed into the spell behind. Suddenly, the strain of holding my sliver of a soul in the spell was gone and I relaxed. The hard part was done.

Vito set the vase containing my heart, lungs, and stomach onto my chest. The chanting increased and the spell diagram above began to spin. The diagram funneled the death magic of the entire city into a cyclone that descended to the vase, then traveled into me.

The magic created dark replications of my organs.

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My heart was now a source of great death magic. It no longer beat, but pulsed with magic, and my lungs swelled with that same eminence. My stomach became a pit of death that would fuel my body. Those three organs worked in tandem, changing me.

The magic finished channelling into my body, and I sat up. I felt better than ever and marveled at the phylactery in my hands.

The golden runes glowed subtly with purple magic, sealed at the top by an impenetrable blackness that swallowed the light. I stood and stretched, inspecting my arms and how the magic changed them. The change was subtle. They had degraded, only to grow back reinforced by the death magic that now fueled me.

Eagerly, I opened my character sheet and examined my trait list.

Character traits

Magically gifted:

You learn magic faster.

Lichdom:

Enhanced magical senses

Undead resilience

Innate undeath control

Mindless undead creatures are more easily controlled.

Body of death

Necromantic and death magic come to you innately, you have enhanced skill with dark magic.

You have a high resistance to necromantic and death magic, and an enhanced resistance to dark magic.

Soul magic

You have access to soul magic.

Phylactery

If you are slain, you will reincarnate at your phylactery.

As a bound soul, this serves as a secondary respawn point.

Poison immunity

You are immune to all poisons, except for those with a life aspect to them.

Undead strength

Your body is now fueled by death magic. As the power of your core grows, so does your body.

True Undead

The undead have no need for strength or stamina any more. They are now fueled by death energy. Those stats have been replaced with the death core.

The death core cannot be increased by stat points, it only increases with level and by absorbing death energy.

Along with replacing strength and endurance, the death core also provides an increased potency for death-based spells. However, it prevents the use of all light and life magic.

Obviously, the phylactery’s ability to bring me back was of less importance than it would be for an NPC. Still, the other benefits of being a Lich were great.

“How are you feeling, milord?” Vito asked.

“Fine, I think,” I answered cautiously, studying my phylactery with rapt fascination.

It was a strange feeling. Part of myself was in there, and felt more real than anything else I’d ever experienced in this game. With a smile, I swung my legs over the edge of the altar and stood.

A beeping started going off in my head.

“Dammit… I need to go, Vito. Take care of my body like you normally do.”

“Of course, milord.” Vito bowed. “Until next time. I will take your phylactery to the place we discussed and make sure no one else knows where it is.”

“Thank you, Vito,” I said, opening the game menu.

***

The inside of my visor replaced the scene of death and magic. I let out a long-suffering sigh as I checked the clock—it was time for work.

With the time compression of WOM, World of Magic, I was able to get a little bit of game time in before work each day. The attack on that city had been mid-progress when I got on, and the eight or so hours of gameplay allowed me to finish my quest.

I took my visor off, slipped on oil-stained clothes and thick boots, then stumbled out of my room, heading for the front door. I drove to work with a smile, already excited to get home and play around with being a Lich.

Like normal, I was one of the first at the shop. That didn’t bug me, most of the people I worked with were jerks, and I was happier by myself. Admittedly that was a little odd for me since I was quite social. That place was just the most toxic workplace I had ever had the displeasure of being a part of.

My daily routine consisted of powering up machines, one after another, followed by tests to ensure everything was functional and working correctly.

As I worked, the rest of my ‘team’ trickled in for our early shift. Everyone started off quiet—though the insults and swearing didn’t take long to start. It was often good-natured, just wearing.

If you couldn’t tell, I hated that job and that place. Would have left long before then if that were possible. Between the economic downturns in North America from the formation of the North American Union and their subsequent leaving from the world economy, I was lucky to have a job. There were lots of people without.

That didn’t make being there any better. Probably the worst part was the boredom. Now, I’m not college-educated or anything. Never had the chance to be. But I’m bright and always looking for a challenge. Something that place never offered. And searching for new work was mostly hopeless. Everyone had been looking.

College was once in my radar. Would have gone too, if the economy hadn’t fallen apart when it did.

I was living with my older sister, Jessica, my only living relative. For a while, actually. Our combined incomes barely kept us afloat, so neither of us had the luxury to quit jobs we disliked. Well, for me anyway. My sister loved her job, she worked as a banker. She thrived in the financial aspects and challenges it provided.

The only thing that really got me through a day was the ability to blow off stress after a long day at work in WOM. My routine became pretty basic: wake up, eat food, play some, go to work, come home, get dinner, and go back in WOM. Luckily, I was physically active enough at my job to maintain this, despite it not being much of a life.

Exceptions from this routine were when I hung out with my sister. We often got out of the house and did fun things, be it minigolf or board games. But she’d gotten so busy, and her job kept her late. It also hadn’t helped she was a workaholic.

Once I slipped in my earbuds, flipping on my favorite game commentators, the day would just fade to a blur. The commentators did an excellent job bringing their characters’ stories to life and never failed to make my days pass far more quickly. Lox’s story was one of the main series I followed, and at the time had been spouting some rather interesting theories surrounding WOM. I’d mostly been excited to see what his crew would end up doing for their series end. Accomplishing their goals seemed almost hopeless. Still, they had yet to fail, so I kept the faith.