Rebirth Accomplished.
I woke to a small box showing two simple words. Behind the semi-transparent box, I could see the sky. I. Could. See.
The moon bathed me in its warm light. Silvery threads danced in the sky, touching down and giving energy all across the land. I stared in amazement, hardly even noticing the box had gone away. The world was beautiful. Everything had a silver lining to it. I lay there, hardly even breathing, just looking at the sky. It was so bright, almost like it was the middle of the day. But I knew it wasn’t, because I could see the moon.
“Bast, are you okay?”
That snapped me back to the moment. The silvery shine on everything faded, and I was looking up at the blonde on the balcony. She was leaning over the railing, just a few feet from where I had fallen through. I couldn’t remember her name, even though she had only told me a moment before.
“Yeah,” I said. It came out garbled though. Almost like my throat was blocked. I blinked, then reached up and felt my neck. It was twisted at an angle. A very, very bad angle. Panic spiked. My neck was broken. It was broken! I felt around, seeing how bad the damage was.
What do I do?
I gently probed my head and neck until I had a good idea of where the break was. Trusting an instinct I didn’t know I had, I pulled and pushed until my vision shifted and I felt a click reverberate through my skull. The sensation made me want to throw up.
“Ahh!”
I had forgotten about Isla again. There it was, her name had come back as soon as my head was back where it belonged. I put a hand up to stop her screaming.
“I’m fine,” I growled out. Wait, growled? Why would I growl? Why does my mouth feel weird?
“Z-z-zom–”
“FOOLISH MORTALS!”
The other thing I had forgotten about. That mysterious voice that had somehow triggered my fall. It was gruff and kind of hollow. Like an old man talking over a ventilator.
“Kneel before my army of minions! Bathe in your own blood!”
“Oh, hell no,” I said. I scrambled to my feet, and without really thinking about what I was doing, sprinted toward the source of the voice. The stone path was smooth and well laid. It took thirty seconds to get to the center of the gardens. Floating above, obscured by a black cloud of miasma, was a sorcerer. He had a long cloak on, with a hood that draped down over his face, bathing him in shadows. His clothes were old fashioned, but clearly well made and tailored. He looked like one of those RenFaire larpers, but the ones with way too much money and not enough good sense.
“Minions, take the castle! Make this land mine!”
I didn’t even have time to come to terms with what was going on. It didn’t matter that he was floating. All I knew was that he had caused me to fall, which interrupted the kiss with that delicious blonde.
I could eat her up. The thought was weird. I skidded to a stop in front of the floating man, bent down, and pried a brick free from a fountain. The mortar crumbled away, making me question how many corners had been cut in the building of the property. I shoved the thought away and hurled the brick at the man. It sailed thirty feet in the blink of an eye. The resounding stone-on-flesh smack was satisfying, but it drew the attention of the man mid-diatribe. A trickle of blood welled from the cut on his cheek, but it was so thick it looked black in the moonlight.
“What are you doing?” He waved a hand at me. “Bloody feral zombies. Get back to work! Guard one of the anchors, my invasion must be safeguarded against counter attack.”
My body turned, moving of its own accord. I was helpless, fighting to go back and continue attacking the strange man. Instead, I marched along paths, completely bewildered. How had he managed to make me behave this way? Why was my body refusing to listen to him? Could he control anybody he saw? If that was the case, the guy was way over-powered.
Devs should nerf this guy. Another insane thought, which really didn’t make sense. This is real life, not a video game.
Several minutes later, an opening in the hedge maze showed several people gathered around what looked like a wooden pole sticking out of the ground. It was nearly as tall as I am, putting it at around six feet, with more buried in the ground. Intricate carvings danced with insidious black and gold energy. My body came to a stop, and suddenly I could move again.
“What the hell?”
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Two men and two women stood near the pole. Each was disheveled, covered in dirt, their clothes were torn… they looked like they had gone on a thirty mile hike through nonstop sticker bushes. They shifted when I spoke, but otherwise remained motionless.
“What the hell is going on?”
That caught their attention. They turned toward me, eyes blazing with that same horrid black-and-gold energy. The closest man opened his mouth, revealing rotten teeth and a stench of death. He groaned wordlessly, but I could understand him.
“We’re all full up, mate.”
“I was… ordered here?”
My words were much clearer than his. Still, he understood me.
“We already have four. Go find one of the other anchors.”
“Is that what this is?”
“Yes, this is an anchor.”
My interest was piqued. “And what does this do?”
“Are you stupid? I know the process takes a toll, but usually they aren’t this dumb when chosen for an invasion force.” He directed the second sentence to the others. They grunted in response.
“First day.”
“First day?! I had to wait decades for my chance! Lucky bastard.”
“Decades? What? You look maybe forty years old.”
The man laughed, though it was more of a dry wheeze. “I’ve been forty-one for a hundred years. The process made sure of that.” He eyed me a bit closer. “Aren’t you a lucky one. What were you when you went through the process, twenty five?”
“Twenty, actually.” I was lost in thought. How could this man be a hundred-forty? What process was he talking about?
“My, my, you certainly are lucky. What level are you?”
“Level? What?”
The man shook his head. “Absolutely new. You don’t even know how to open your status?”
“Status?” As I voiced the word, the weird box popped up again.
Name: Alabaster Blackwood
Race: Zombie Human
Faction: None
Age: 20
Level: 0
XP: 0/100
HP: 100/200
HP regen per second: 0.09
MP: 0/20
MP regen per second: 0.00
Stamina: 120/120
Stamina regen: 0.06
Strength: 14*
Agility: 6
Constitution: 10*
Wisdom: 1
Intelligence: 1
Charisma: 1
Luck: 12*
Titles: Primordial Undead, Prime Undead
Skills: Unarmed Combat
Abilities: Star-born: Dragon
Spells: None
Notes: English, Zombie Common
“What the hell is Zombie Common. Wait, why does it say my race is Zombie? It just said human earlier.”
“Wait, are you serious? Today really is your first day as a zombie?”
“Zombies aren’t real. That would require magic, and that isn’t real.”
Just then, a bolt of lightning lit up the sky, which had grown progressively darker. I had been so lost in the conversation, I hadn’t even noticed.
“If zombies aren’t real, you aren’t either, mate.”
I shook my head.
“Get over it. You’re a zombie. Now, what are your stats?”
I told him what I read in the box. His eyes widened. “Wow, lucky indeed. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a level zero with ten luck, never mind something over ten.”
“What is going on? What are you doing here? What is that guy over there doing?”
“Easy, mate. We’re the zombie army. The necromancer, that’s the twat you spotted hovering over yonder, he’s one of the trillions chosen for invasion of your newly integrated universe.”
“What– what?! Trillions? We only have eight billion people on the whole planet!”
“Universe, mate. There’s a billion civilizations spread across the stars. That’s just in your universe. There are a trillion identified universes, and more found all the time. You’re lucky, you know. This universe is full of life. Most are just dead, either too early for life or too late. But ripe with resources and materials. Not much xp in those. I had a cousin that spent a few millennia in one as a punishment detail. Didn’t even get two levels. But he did come out richer than Midas.”
That caught me short. “You know the story of Midas?”
“The king of gold? Of course. You didn’t think your stories were unique, did you? A million million universes out there, and yours are somehow unique?” He laughed again.
The others laughed in their own way. “Can you believe this?” He looked at me, really scrutinizing. “Wait a minute. Are you a local?”
“I am. Obviously.”
His attitude changed in a heartbeat. “Then you’re not with us.”
He lunged forward, with the other three immediately behind. I took a step back, falling into a stance that had been drilled into me for more than a decade. Old lessons flickered in the back of my mind as I redirected the man’s lunge, tossing him over my shoulder. Three lightning fast blows stopped the others in their tracks. I was in a bad position, facing down four angry, unknown assailants. The first man stood and started lumbering at me.
“Woah, why are you attacking me?”
“You’re the enemy. Part of the universe to be subjugated. Submit, and we will make your end quick!”
I side-stepped his awkward tackle, sending him into the three stunned people and the anchor. The wood flashed black and gold, rebuffing the crowd with considerable force. They crashed to the ground, and I stood ready.
“Are you done? Can you stop attacking me?”
“No, glory to the Undead!”
The man rushed, and I was forced to defend myself. He led with a haymaker so telegraphed, they heard about it in the 1930s. I stepped into his swing and smashed the nerve cluster in his armpit. Instead of making his arm fall limp, which is what I expected, it blew clean off in a shower of gore. The man stopped and gaped at me, I stared in shock at the wound.
“Uh, sorry? I didn’t mean to do that.”
The man growled and swiped at me with his remaining arm. His hand looked like a claw. I was too slow to get out of the way, and he tore ragged slashes down my chest.
“Hey! I like this shirt! It’s silk, and way more expensive than you can afford!”
“Pfft, expensive. I tore that flimsy fabric with my nails.”
He slashed again, even as he spoke. I blocked his strike and threw one of my own, an empty palm into his chest. Muscle memory had taken over and I did nothing to attenuate the power. His chest imploded, showering the other three in gore.
Level 1 zombie killed. 10 xp awarded.
The notification was small, down in the corner of my vision. I dismissed it, or tried to. It stayed there for a few seconds before fading on its own. I turned my attention back to the three remaining… zombies. I guess it really was true.