[Voidknight Ascension] Chapter 54: Turn Undead

Matt waited to die.

The pain had been unimaginable, but at least it was over now. The angel of light had appeared to usher him to the beyond, and now he was floating in the darkness of the ether simply… waiting.

The velvety silence was broken by a shrill scream that continued to rise in pitch and terror. Matt was perhaps just as surprised as anybody else to realize, to his horror, that the scream was coming from his mouth.

His entire body was seized with cruel agony that soaked into his very bones. He screamed, though he was hardly aware of it above the pounding of his blood like the drums from the ship of the dead.

Matt wasn’t sure how long it went on for. It felt like years, but could have been seconds. In the end, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that it stopped. He wanted it to end.

During his lowest moment, he met the angel again. A man, of all things, standing over him and practically glowing with holy light.

He kneeled beside Matt, his hands cupping either side of his face so he could not look away from his savior, or perhaps out of mercy.

Matt could make out no features beyond a vague masculinity. The hands on either side of his face seemed to say, “I could end it with a twist, if you want. Or you can fight and we will ride this out together.”

Never the religious type, Matt had grown up dirt poor and had to fight for every opportunity. But right then, all he wanted to do was let his savior snap his neck if it meant an end to the pain.

He had heard it would be over in a blink. Before he could even process what was going on, he would be gone. All that he was… just gone.

The darkness closed in around him, the light of his angelic savior stretched further and further away as if seen from a long tunnel.

Words, unintelligible but oddly supportive nonetheless, washed over Matt as he struggled in the vise-grip of pain that seemed without end.

Somehow, this strange man of light was giving him the strength to resist the siren call of peaceful slumber. When all he wanted to do was give up, some tiny spark of life within told him to resist.

Whatever language the man spoke to him, it was one of compassion and courage. Of war and strife with oneself, to strive.

And so, even though every ounce of his willpower had been sapped away by every terrible circumstance that had come to pass since coming to this horrible place, Matt pressed through the darkness.

The tunnel shrank. Matt waded through an ocean of pain to get to the other side, all the while knowing how much easier it would be to just lie down and give up.

It was his choice to make.

The words the man spoke may not have been those he recognized, but the tone, the meaning, was clear as day. “You do this with your own strength. Lay your burden down or carry it. The task is yours alone, but I’ll be here, regardless.”

Matt faltered but did not give up.

Every inch felt like a mile, and every second a year of agony and sorrow, but he kept putting one foot in front of the other until he arrived at a door of golden light.

With the last of his energy, he collapsed against the door.

Brilliant light baked his eyes and seared his bones, but the pain finally stopped. It left a hole he could not fathom behind, a darkness of pain and suffering that seemed somehow wrong to be without.

Golden letters blazed into being before his very eyes.

You unlock a new Lifestate:

[Necram (Human)]

Having weathered a forsaken trial that inflicted a poisonous curse upon you, hailing from a lost civilization that can no longer guide you, you have survived to become a powerful and hardy undead.

Your blood, bone and flesh have left your humanity behind to transform into an ancestral being that thrives in the darkness and shadows, feeding off of poisons, viscera and monsters alike.

You gain new Traits.

[Ghoulish Feast]

(Racial Trait)

You are now able to consume viscera, blood, flesh and other such organic matter to recover your HP. Engaging in this act around most non-undead creatures has a chance to be considered a hostile action.

[Undying Fortitude]

(Racial Trait)

Being undead has its perks. Unlike most creatures who need to constantly eat, sleep, and drink, you do not. While you cannot naturally recover your HP, your MP recovers the same as before, and while you no longer need to eat, sleep, or drink, you still need to recover from exhaustion by entering into a meditative trance. Additionally, your Health is significantly increased. Grants access to the [Sleep of the Dead] ability.

[Sleep of the Dead]

(Racial Ability)

While others go to sleep and become dead to the world, you enter into a light restorative trance. When exhausted, you only require half the amount of sleep your previous Lifestate required. Additionally, you are fully cognizant of your surroundings while performing [Sleep of the Dead].

You gain a new Attunement: Decay Mana (☆ Primitive).

You gain a new Attunement: Poison Mana (☆ Primitive).

Matt stared at the text for a long while, unseeing, unbelieving.

Was this just the fevered ramblings of his dying brain as the last neuron shuddered and winked out, or was he really turning into a movie monster?

On one hand… he wasn’t that upset by it. He could feel the new mana flowing through his veins, and he had to admit that it felt good.

The lack of pain was welcome, of course, but this was so much more than that.

Having gone from sheer agony to this kind of surreal transformation, he couldn’t adequately process any of it.

Who could? He was basically a zombie, and yet still very much alive. Still very much himself. Would bits of his body start falling off now? Would he lose his hair, nose, lips, and who knows what other type of appendages now?

Not that you can do much about it, he thought. This is the grave you, hah, dug for yourself.

Hot on the heels of that thought, another came to him: you’re immortal now. Undead don’t die, that’s their whole thing! You need four hours of sleep instead of eight, and only when you’re exhausted. There’s so much more time now.

No matter what, he knew what he felt. Overwhelming relief. No terror, no disgust at becoming a monster, just relief.

And he had the amazing, beneficent angel to thank.

Without his undying support, he doubted he could have made the journey to this new chapter of life. Or unlife, I suppose, he thought with an inward chuckle.

Not that it was his preferred chapter, but we can’t help the cards dealt to us, can we?

Matt opened his eyes for the first time since he skirted death and looked for the man who had been his savior.

Still wreathed in glowing light, Matt looked up into the face of the man as it slowly resolved from blurry streaks of light to a startlingly familiar visage.

“Sam?!” Matt said, aghast. “You-you were my angel?”

“See,” Sam said, smiling at somebody over Matt’s head. “I told you he’d get through it.” Then the words seemed to register. “Wait, what’d you say?”

Matt could hardly get the word out. “Nothing!”

“Bit shaken up,” Sam said, gently patting Matt’s cheek just as his savior had done. It was too much. He owed his survival to Samuel Hunter?

The same Samuel Hunter, employee #6391, 81% timeliness rating, with an odd aversion to wearing the mandated Hi-Vis vest while on cart corral duty?

The very same one that Darren complained about to no end whenever he had the chance?

It… made no sense.

He was a good guy, but…. Matt shook his head, ridding himself of the strange thoughts. No use in denial. He had to forge ahead. Grab his new destiny and run with it.

A ghostly ninja or samurai of some kind floated beside Matt’s savior, arms folded, watching him with unmistakable wariness. With a keen intelligence behind those eyes, he felt his secrets exposed.

There was no way she didn’t know what Matt became.

He wasn’t ashamed, but at the same time, Matt didn’t want anyone to feel like he was going to take a bite out of them. It’s exactly what would happen in any zombie movie.

People had strange ideas about the undead. They had always been a secret fascination of his. He had a Fangoria magazine subscription since he could read, and when time permitted, he always played the latest zombie shooter, but he knew he was alone in his odd pastime.

It was a very different thing to like to play games featuring the undead, and quite another to be one of those monsters. How would any normal person react to, if he was being quite honest with himself, a near-stranger turning into a bloodthirsty creature from the grave?

“Hey Matt! Welcome back,” Sam’s little cat said. She was always weird, and now that she could talk, even make human-like expressions, she was even weirder.

And to Matt, weird was just plain cool.

Matt always had the impression that Sam’s cat had followed him to work rather than the other way around. Sam was irresponsible, but he wasn’t a bad guy. Who the hell would bring their pet to their work at a grocery store?

He always turned a blind eye when he saw the little fur ball. Sometimes he left out returned bags of cat food that she could get into. It was all shrinkage anyway.

As if thankful for all the food he gave her over the years, she did a little dance while meowing out a musical rhythm that would have turned the “Oh Long Johnson” cat’s fur green with envy.

Seeing her so humanized, though, was beyond trippy. Matt could take turning into a necram, clearly some sort of zombie-adjacent creature, but seeing this tiny golden-furry creature talking and dancing was almost too much.

When he burst out laughing, the cat curled up against his side and purred.

He had to admit, it was rather comforting.

“I’m not dead?” he managed to croak out.

“Nah,” Sam said, standing up. “Gave us a bit of a fright, though.”

“Where am I?”

Sam looked sheepish and scratched at some stubble on his cheek. “Y’see that’s a bit of a tough one. How much do you remember?”

“I remember the end of the fucking world—sorry, not feeling that great. I remember coming to this place, grouping up with you, and then getting abandoned to spiders by Darren and… far too many horror beyond that. If I ever see him again—”

“Yeah,” Sam cut in, “me too. So, short story is we sort of… found you and a bunch of people trapped behind these doors. I guess it was an alternative way off the starting island, but the doors were sealed.”

“And Sam opened them!” Komachi said excitedly.

“Yeah, that,” Sam continued. “You have been unconscious for about a day or so. We’ve been floating through the sky on this… super tiny chunk of land.” He gestured at the samurai ghost. “That’s a friend. Her name is Raiko. You already know Komachi, it seems, and Kai is still out cold or just sleeping. Hard to tell.”

Matt gave a nod of greeting to the ghost lady. “You said other people?” he asked, propping himself up sluggishly on his elbows. “Where is everybody else?”

Sam shrugged. He hardly seemed bothered, but then again, that seemed to be his way. Even when he was getting coached, it never upset him like it was meant to. He just kept on doing what he was doing, as if it had never happened.

“We could have a small settlement if we found them,” Matt hazarded. He was clearly encroaching here and didn’t want to step on anybody’s toes, but it was obvious, wasn’t it? More people meant more hands to work. With the world being jumbled up, the more people you had, the more power and influence you could accrue.

And in the end, that meant safety.

“They’re out there somewhere,” Sam replied. He looked up at the tent roof. “Each Skyshard—that’s the floating rock we’re on—can only hold so many people. If we took everybody with us, we’d be sunk by now.”

Matt sat up slowly. For some reason, Raiko looked more than a little concerned when he said, “I’m starving. What have we got to eat?”