3 Chapter 3: Rise of the Dead (1/2)
”Rise…rise! Rise!”
”Gah!”
Screaming briefly, I sat up, my voice dying in my throat as I clawed at the air. Gasping, I sat up, my eyes flying wide open as I stared up at the dark night sky. Blinking, I stared blankly at the stars for a moment, not knowing what was going on.
Flinching, I clutched my head as I tried to remember what had happened. Yes, I was impaled by a freaking demon's tentacle and suffered a grievous, fatal wound. I was drowning in my own blood and supposedly died. I was pretty sure I died. At least I could take comfort in the fact that I wasn't raped. I mean, what with tentacles and all…
Yet I couldn't remember what happened after that. My memory between then and now was a complete blank, but I couldn't shake off the feeling that something terrible had happened. Be it the terrifying isolation in a dark tunnel, the fiery agony in the depths of hell, or the cold oblivion in a merciless void, I just knew I had been through a terrifying experience – something I never wanted to go through ever again. My mind must have shut down and my memories locked away as some sort of defense mechanism to preserve my sanity from such horrors, and even though I couldn't remember any details, I shuddered involuntarily from just thinking about it.
I never wanted to go back to that place ever again. Never.
”Rise…rise!”
The annoying, low-pitched voice grated on my nerves. Geez, I get it already. How annoying. You don't have to repeat yourself. Looking around in puzzlement and irritation, I stood up and stretched with a groan, then winced, waiting for the pain to hit me.
Nothing happened.
Eh? What?
Blinking in surprise, I felt my chest. The injury was almost gone now – the bleeding had stopped long ago. There was little trace of the mortal wound I had sustained, save for a thin, white scar that stretched across my chest. And even that scar was rapidly disappearing, receding as the epidermis was replaced by new layer of dead tissue beneath.
My torn clothes remained ripped, though, my jacket and shirt still bearing traces of the holes where the claw had gouged in them. Proof that that injury wasn't a dream.
But how did my wound heal so quickly…?
”Rise! Rise, my minions. Heed my call.”
The man himself almost seemed like a corpse – his pale skin was so white that under the bright moonlight he seemed bereft of blood. Blood-red markings of some weird, eerie design were etched across the purple fabric of his robes – just looking at them made me feel uneasy. I glanced at the corpses scattered around me – no matter how I looked at them, they were dead. Unmoving. Not breathing. Completely still.
Yet, by some unseen hand from above, they were lifted back to their feet and given unnatural life, obediently shuffling toward the man.
Studying him and the way the silent corpses were being reanimated and assembling in orderly formations without regard for their original faction, I could only come to a single conclusion.
This man was a necromancer.
”Oh boy.”
I didn't know what to make of my current situation. Sure, the necromancer didn't seem like the type to reanimate me for altruistic reasons, but the fact was that he did save me somehow…
Wait, save me?
Feeling my face, I realized I wasn't wearing my glasses. Yet I could see clearly, and without any artificial lighting at that. I didn't have night-blindness, but I wasn't sure I always possessed the ability to see clearly with little aiding my sense of sight other than the silvery rays of moonlight and distant starlight. Furthermore, even without my glasses, my vision was pretty sharp and crisp, a feeling I hadn't gotten for ages, ever since I began suffering from myopia. Reaching out, I picked up my glasses and put them on again. Having worn glasses almost my whole life, I felt weird if I wasn't with them. It was more to calm myself down than for viewing aid. The cracked lenses were impairing my vision, however, so I smashed them and flicked them out of the frame. Putting them back on, I stared out of the hollow frames with perfect vision.
This wasn't just any normal healing. I didn't know if this was the result of magic or whatever – but judging from the presence of the necromancer right in front of me reanimating corpses by waving his hands and a few words, it appeared that magic was the most likely possibility. Even then, it had to be incredible magic that could heal both my mortal wound and my myopia at the same time.
On the other hand, I had way too little information on my current whereabouts. I couldn't even begin to guess how the magic in this world worked. Well, one way to find out was to ask the necromancer in front of me. Whatever his reasons, he did save me, so I should at least thank him for that. That said, I had this creepy feeling that I was saved in a completely different manner from what I was imagining. Looking at the zombies around me, I couldn't help but wonder if I truly had been saved, or if I was reanimated as an undead.
But if I was a zombie, why wasn't I following the necromancer's orders as obediently as the walking corpses around me? How was I still able to maintain my personality and individuality as if I was still living?
Well, scratching my head over these difficult questions wouldn't get me any answers. The most effective way was to ask the man in question – the necromancer himself. To be honest, his solitary figure in front of the massed ranks of undead struck more than a little fear into my heart, and plenty of trepidation, but I had to start from somewhere.
”Um, excuse me.”
I spoke up politely as I approached the necromancer. For some reason, even if he didn't look Japanese and the terrain didn't look like anywhere I knew in Japan – if anything, I was more inclined to think that I was in medieval Europe, but the existence of a demon just didn't add up – his words sounded distinctly Japanese to me, even if it had some thick accent.
The necromancer whirled around so quickly he almost fell over. An expression of shock flooded his face as he stared at me, dumbfounded.
”Um, well, thank you for helping me,” I said rather hastily, before he could react violently. Bowing my head slightly to emphasize that I meant no harm and was merely displaying my gratitude, I waited a beat before launching my inquiry. ”I appear to be a bit lost, and I was wondering if you could tell me where I am…”
”You…!” the necromancer's voice harshly cut me off, fury bubbling in his tone. The guy wasn't paying any attention to me at all. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to approach him after all. ”How is this possible? How can a zombie retain its personality and memories?”
”Zombie…?”
Ah. I see. I can't say I was very surprised. My rate of recovery was far beyond anything I could imagine, surpassing beyond the stereotypical healing spells of typical fantasy light novels. It could be said to be on the level of godlike. I wasn't sure how long I was dead, but…judging from the lack of decay on my fellow zombies, it most likely hadn't been very long. A day at most? Scavengers had yet to come and pick off at our flesh, after all.
For me to be fully healed in such a short window was nothing short of miraculous. Of course, there was the possibility that such godlike magic was considered normal in this particular world, but it wasn't out of expectations that such convenient settings did not exist.
”This cannot be happening. This cannot be possible. My ritual was perfect! Such an abomination shouldn't exist…!”
”Abomination? Hey, now that's rude…”
Ignoring my protest, the necromancer cast his hand out, chanting something. A dark wave of energy blasted out and shrouded me. I recoiled instinctively, expecting to be obliterated in an instant…but nothing happened.
”Eh?”
I cocked my head as I watched the dark shadow that was trying to engulf me dissipate after a few seconds. What the hell was that supposed to do? Blinking in bafflement, I glanced back at the necromancer, who looked just as perplexed as me.
”It still didn't work?” the pale, frail-looking man whispered, bewildered. I shrugged.
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”Seems like it.
Hmm…maybe it might be because of my Adamantium Will? I mused to myself. So the skill proved useful after all, though not in the manner I expected. I would much prefer a skill that prevented me from being turned into a zombie in the first place rather than be a free zombie. I mean, what the heck could a zombie do?
Speaking of which…
I flicked my blue screen open and gaped at my new…uh, characteristics.
Name: Tanaka Tomoyuki
Species: Undead
Job/Rank: Zombie/Fodder
Special Ability: Adamantium Will
”I really am a zombie, huh…”
”What manner of creature are you?! This is impossible, impossible, impossible! Were you some sort of human abomination…?”
”Hey, like I said, you've been pretty rude so far. Of course I'm a normal human. What else can I be?” Shrugging, I tested out my fingers and body. Maybe my zombie status granted me new powers. But that hope was crushed when nothing happened. There was no physical change either. I tried to conjure up some of that fancy magical energy the necromancer just tossed on me, but no luck with that either. Either I had no idea how to use magic or I didn't have the ability at all.