The blood-red sky finally began to darken, its ominous glow fading as the dead returned to their graves—or at least, most of them did.
SMACK.
Ethan brought his katana down on the last zombie in sight, its decaying body crumpling to the ground.
"LEVEL 3"
flashed across the blue screen in front of him, the notification briefly illuminating his blood-streaked face.
He dismissed the screen with a wave of his hand, leaving a pile of bodies in his wake.
"Back when *Heroes of Old Earth* was released, these places were meant to be the starting locations for the undead faction players," he muttered, his voice tinged with nostalgia.
Ethan turned his gaze toward the dense woods ahead, their shadowy outlines looming in the fading light.
"The Old Grove..."
The Old Grove was an amalgamation of overgrown trees and jagged rocks, a labyrinth of twisting paths and dense foliage. To get lost in its depths was to invite certain death.
"I guess I'll rest for the night," he said, his voice weary but resolute. "The funny part about these trees is that they repel a lot of the undead."
With that, he stepped into the woods, the katana resting comfortably at his side. The Old Grove stretched out before him, its shadows deep and inviting, its secrets waiting to be uncovered.
Ethan climbed along the rocky ridge, his boots scraping against the jagged stones as he navigated the uneven terrain. The path ahead was lonely, yet there was something oddly captivating about it—the way the moonlight filtered through the twisted branches, the faint rustling of leaves in the cool night air.
He paused for a moment, glancing at the system interface hovering in the corner of his vision.
"If I'm correct... I guess I died," he said aloud, his voice quiet but steady.
The system gave no reply, its silent glow almost mocking in its indifference.
Ethan sighed, his gaze drifting to the stars above.
"...I mean, it's not bad, I guess. Like, man, getting to experience this after the hellhole of the war... it brings..."
He trailed off, his thoughts wandering to the battles he'd fought, the comrades he'd lost, and the endless cycle of violence that had consumed his life.
Then, slowly, a small smile crept across his face.
"...A smile."
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Ethan felt a flicker of something other than despair. It wasn't joy, exactly—more like a strange sense of peace, as if the weight of his past had momentarily lifted.
With renewed determination, he continued along the path, the katana resting comfortably at his side. The Old Grove stretched out before him, its shadows deep and inviting, its secrets waiting to be uncovered.
"If I'm correct," Ethan muttered, his voice low as he raised his katana.
SLASH.
The blade cut through a wall of thorny trees, their gnarled branches parting like paper. Beyond the thicket, the path opened up to reveal a small clearing.
"...It's still here," he said, his voice tinged with a mix of surprise and nostalgia.
In the center of the clearing stood an old shed made of dark wood, its weathered planks barely holding together. Surrounding it were remnants of what once must have been a cozy campsite: a stone fountain, now dry and cracked; a few stone benches, moss creeping up their legs; and a fire pit, its ashes long cold. Everything looked as though it hadn't been touched in years.
Ethan stepped into the clearing, his boots crunching against the overgrown grass. He approached the shed, his hand brushing against the rough wood.
"Guess this is as good a place as any to rest," he said, his voice echoing softly in the quiet night.
Ethan adjusted himself, taking a moment to tidy up the clearing. He cleared the dried leaves from the fountain, its cracked stone basin now visible under the moonlight. Next, he gathered some wood from the surrounding trees, cutting it into manageable pieces with his katana. Using the dry leaves and kindling, he started a fire in the old pit, the flames crackling to life and casting a warm glow over the clearing.
"Alright, all set," he said, dusting off his hands.
He reached into his inventory and pulled out some of the meat he'd collected from the zombies earlier. The cuts were rough and unappetizing, but they were all he had.
"....I guess I still have to eat something, don't I?" he muttered, holding up a piece of meat with a grimace.
As he skewered the meat and held it over the fire, Ethan couldn't help but chuckle darkly.
"Never thought I'd be roasting zombie meat in the middle of nowhere. Life's full of surprises."
The fire crackled, the scent of cooking meat filling the air—though it wasn't exactly pleasant. Ethan leaned back against one of the stone benches, his katana resting beside him, and stared into the flames.
As the fire crackled and the scent of roasted meat filled the air, Ethan leaned back against the stone bench, his eyelids growing heavy. The exhaustion of the day finally caught up to him, and despite the unsettling surroundings, he drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
The world around him blurred, the flames of the fire morphing into the flickering lights of a battlefield. The quiet rustle of leaves became the distant roar of artillery, and the cold night air was replaced by the acrid smell of smoke and gunpowder.
Ethan found himself standing in the middle of a war-torn city, the streets littered with debris and the cries of the wounded echoing in his ears. He looked down at his hands, no longer holding a katana but gripping a rifle, its weight familiar yet foreign.
"Move! We're falling back!" a voice shouted, snapping Ethan back to reality
He turned to see a squad of soldiers, their faces obscured by helmets and dust. One of them grabbed his arm, pulling him toward a crumbling building.
"Ethan, snap out of it! We don't have time for this!"
The dream shifted again, the battlefield dissolving into a quieter, more personal memory. Ethan stood in a small, dimly lit room, the walls lined with maps and strategy boards. A man in a military uniform stood across from him, his expression grim.
"You're being reassigned," the man said, his voice cold and final.
"Reassigned? To where?" Ethan asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
"The front lines. We need every able body we can get."
The scene shifted once more, cutting to Ethan standing beside a row of officers, each wielding either a gun or a sword. They raised their whistles to their lips, one by one.
Phwwwwwhht
"WHAT ARE YOUR ORDERS, SIR?" they shouted in unison.
Ethan looked at the men behind him, their faces shrouded in shadow, but he could see the outlines of their bruised and battered uniforms.
"...."
He glanced down at his own uniform, only to find it had changed. He was no longer standing in the city but in the desolate expanse of no man's land, the ground torn apart by shells and littered with the remnants of war.
GASP
The dream Faded, the room dissolving into darkness. Ethan tried to hold onto the memory, but it slipped away like sand through his fingers.
"...I'm alright, I'm alright," Ethan muttered, trying to reassure himself as he stirred from his uneasy sleep.
He got up and walked over to the fire, the warmth of the flames helping to shake off the lingering unease from his dream. But as he approached, something caught his eye.
The fountain—its water was back.
"...Fountain of Healing," he whispered, his voice tinged with awe.
Ethan walked over to the fountain, his boots crunching against the dry leaves. He hunched over the stone basin, its water now crystal clear, reflecting the beauty of the moon above. The sight was almost mesmerizing, the moonlight dancing on the surface of the water like liquid silver.
"Pretty," he said softly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
He cupped his hands and took a sip of the water, its coolness quenching his thirst and washing away the lingering bitterness of the dream.
___________ ___________
Name: Ethan Cross
Level: 3
Status: Decrepit Undead
Attributes:
- Strength: 14
- Agility: 6 (-2)
- Intelligence:7
- Dexterity: 4
- Perception: 8
- Endurance: 10
Coin : -20,000
Inventory:
- Weapon: Kensei Katana
- Clothing: Officer's Uniform (0 Armor)
- Points: 10
Debuffs:
1. Undead Hunger: Gradually reduces Strength over time. Eating mitigates this effect.
2. Debt Trap: Cannot purchase from the Item Shop until debts are paid. -2 Move Speed.*
Skills:
- Dance of the Dead: A devastating flurry of slashes that deals physical damage and reduces enemy armor.
- Cooldown: 48 hours
- Mana Cost: 100
Objectives:
- Main Objective: Survive
- Side Objective: Reach Level 10
- Rewards: 500 Gold, 600 Exp
____________ ____________
Fountain of Healing
"A relic of a forgotten age, these fountains lie dormant across the land, their waters stilled but their magic never truly extinguished."
Lore:
The Fountains of Healing are ancient relics scattered throughout the world, remnants of a time when magic flowed freely and the land was untainted by war and decay. Though they may appear lifeless and abandoned, their essence remains, waiting for a worthy soul to restore them.
When a traveler takes the time to cleanse and care for a fountain, it repays their effort with its healing waters—a gift that mends wounds, restores vitality, and provides a brief respite from the dangers of the world. The area around an active fountain becomes a sanctuary, a safe haven where even the deadliest creatures dare not tread.
Yet, the fountains are not without their mysteries. Some say they are tied to the land itself, their waters a reflection of the world's health. Others whisper that they are guarded by spirits, ancient protectors who watch over those who seek their aid.