บท 3: Chapter 3: Rise of the Dead
"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."
Shaking my head in confusion, I turned to look at the man who had been muttering the whole time. At a distance, there was a pale man in purple and red robes, holding a staff and raising both his hands high into the night sky. At some point when I was unconscious, day had turned into night. That wasn't a surprise – judging from the lack of roars and the fact I wasn't attacked when I stood up, the monster had seemed to disappear long ago. The village where I found myself in after departing the bookstore was filled with bodies, the corpses of the poor villagers who were killed by the nightmarish creature. Or they were supposed to be corpses, but I watched in horrified fascination as one by one they rose to their feet jerkily, like puppets on a string, and shambled toward the crooning man in several neat rows. Male or female, child, adult, or elderly – it didn't matter. The villagers were now standing side by side in an almost military formation, silent and uncomplaining before their new master.
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.
"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.
This sucked.
"Obey me! OBEY ME!"
"No." I raised an eyebrow as the necromancer bathed me in black magic, to no avail. The raving, ranting guy seemed more bark than bite. I was getting less afraid of him by the minute. And more annoyed. "Could you please be quiet?"
"Dangerous…an undead abomination is dangerous." The necromancer was paying absolutely no attention to me at all. Chattering, he was biting his fingers, his mushroom-haired head bobbing up and down in despair. "This abomination cannot be allowed to exist!"
"Huh?" I felt a chill at that last statement from the necromancer. That didn't sound good at all. Gulping, I began to back away, but it was too late. I was completely surrounded, hemmed in by a ring of zombies. Looking around and seeing that there was no path of escape, I turned back to the necromancer with both my hands raised. "Um, look, I mean no harm. I'm sure we can talk this out, right? We can just both go our separate ways…"
"Kill him."
The necromancer's command was final. The bastard had no intention of listening to me at all. At his order, the zombies lunged at me as one, their rigid movements belying their grace and incredible speed. I tried to dodge, but I wasn't able to evade in time. The mass of bodies struck me, knocking me over and pinning me to the ground. I struggled desperately, but the zombies climbed all over me, moaning and slavering.
One of them bent down and bit a huge chunk of flesh off my neck.
"Ah…aaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
A scream of agony tore itself from my throat. Flailing in both pain and despair, I kicked and writhed, but the weight of zombies held me down. Another bent and bit my arm. I could feel a couple more chewing on my leg. Gritting my teeth, I kicked them, but their jaws were firmly lodged into my muscle, causing excruciating agony that caused tears in my eyes.
What the hell? Even if I'm a zombie, an undead, why am I able to feel so much pain?!
I kicked and screamed, but I was unable to dislodge my assailants. They bit down hard and chewed, refusing to let go. I felt my blood flowing down my torn skin, molten fire flowing through my veins and flooding my system with unbelievable agony.
"Aaaaaaaaah! Get off me! Get off!"
"Feast yourselves, my precious minions. Make sure not even one shred of flesh remains."
"Fuck you!" I shouted and kicked, but the zombies remained clinging onto me with their jaws. The damned things were actually biting all the way down to the bone! I squeezed my eyes shut, tears spilling freely from the incredible pain.
Over the din of moaning and chewing, the necromancer was beside himself in glee, watching my demise triumphantly. His hands clasped behind his back, he watched the gruesome spectacle like a father happily witnessing the growth of his children.
"No…noooo!"
I struggled and fought back defiantly. The reality that I was going to die a second time hit me, and hit me really hard. The ice-cold fear clenched my heart tightly in a warning grip, reminding me of the unspeakable terror that awaited me should I fall back into the depths of death.
No! I never want to go back to that place ever again! Never!
Kicking and lashing out, I screamed as I felt my leg being torn off. Another zombie gnawed off my left arm, biting through the bone. I jerked violently, from reflex, and watched in horror as the offending undead ripped my arm off.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
Blood spurted all over the place as the zombie fell back. Cradling my severed arm in his embrace, he began chewing on it.
Breathing heavily, and almost blacking out from the pain, I bit my lip so hard I could taste my blood flooding into my mouth. I couldn't black out here. I couldn't. I had to fight back. I was never going back to that place ever again.
"Hah, hah…"
With a force of will, I head-butted the nearest zombie, causing him to fall back and into his comrades. Kicking out as hard as I could, I managed to dislodge the zombie that was biting firmly into my left angle, hurling him away.
But at a cost. A huge chunk of my ankle went with him. Wailing in pain, I clenched my teeth and forced myself to endure it. Crawling to my feet, I found that I couldn't stand. That bite must have torn my tendons or something.
"What are you doing? Hurry and kill him!" The necromancer hissed above, gesturing wildly with both arms. At his voice, the zombies clambered back to their feet and shambled after me, their eyes still hollow but somehow ravenous at the same time.
Bloody bastard…
Swiveling my head, I glared at him, bitterness filling my heart. Was I brought back from the dead just to die again? Like this, pathetically, eaten by other undead? Would I be sent back into that terrifying abyss so traumatizing my mind refused to remember the experience?
"Don't screw with me…"
I wasn't going to die like this. I wasn't going to die in a place like this.
Revenge. I still need to get revenge on Kobayashi. On all my classmates. I can't die yet!
Reaching out with my right hand, I inched my way toward the necromancer. The pale man probably didn't recognize my intentions, thinking that I was trying to get away from his zombies. Or he had full confidence in his zombies to capture and kill me before I could do anything. It didn't matter. As long as he stood still and remained where he was, I stood a chance of victory.
This was probably the only way I could get out of this. If the necromancer was the one controlling the zombies, then I just had to get rid of him first before his zombies pounced on me. With a tremendous effort, I kicked off on my good leg and hurled myself off the ground. The necromancer's deep-set and bloodshot eyes widened when I barreled right into him. He was as thin and frail as he looked – even someone as light as me could topple him over with a well-timed tackle.
"You! Get off me!"
I punched him in the face with my one good hand. The necromancer flailed about, smacking me with his staff and sending me sprawling on the ground. Rising to his feet, he shouted to his zombies.
"Kill him! Kill him right now!"
Even when winded, I felt the surge of adrenaline run through my undead system. Shaking off the white sparks that flew about my eyes from the strike, I pounced on the necromancer again. This time, he tried to ward me off with his staff, but I grabbed his arm with my right hand and shoved it back. The both of us crashed down in a tangle of limbs.
"Hurry, you fools! Get him off me right this instance!"
With my left arm torn off, and my right hand preoccupied with keeping his staff at bay, I had little weapons left. Moving up my good leg, I placed a knee squarely on his groin, crushing his you-know-what onto the ground. The necromancer let out a high-pitched wail that was in contrast with the low voice that he had been using all this while.
But I wasn't done. I could hear the pattering of the zombies' feet as they moved toward me. Damn, but from the sound of it they moved fast! I had to take decisive action and finish this before they caught me and rip me off from the necromancer. Unfortunately, I had nothing else to fight with. If only I still had my arm…
No…wait. I still had one other weapon.
Lowering my head, I sank my teeth into the shocked necromancer's throat and bit down hard. Closing my eyes and suppressing revulsion, I yanked my head back as hard as I could, tearing off a huge chunk of flesh and splashing blood all over my face.
"Argh! Ugh!"
With his left hand, the necromancer tried to press against his bleeding throat. It was of little effect. I had bit off both his jugular vein and carotid artery. Now, even if his zombies killed me, he would bleed to death.
But I wasn't going to let his zombies kill me. Not yet. With a determined roar, I bit out another lump of flesh from the other side of his throat, eliciting another cry of pain. Raising my head, I licked the necromancer's blood off my lips, realizing vaguely that the red fluid tasted surprisingly sweet. The flesh, despite being stringy and thin, had quite the marvelous texture to it. It was soft and easy to chew. Swallowing the lean meat, I hungered for more.
Oh, and for some reason, I was hungry. Very hungry. I didn't notice it before, but now that the necromancer was helplessly pinned beneath me, he looked very…delicious.
I was going crazy. Crazy with hunger, crazy from being shoved near the verge of death, or crazy from being thrown into an insane situation. Whatever. I wasn't thinking straight right now – the hunger was driving me crazy. I would probably regret this later when I sobered, but right now I didn't care about anything other than relieving that burning vacuum in my stomach.
"You tried to feed me to your zombies," I told the terrified, weakening necromancer, lowering my mouth to take another bite of his flesh. Behind me, the zombies seemed to have stopped moving. The life force of the necromancer was ailing, as was his unnatural magic. As he weakened, the blood leaking from his body, so did his grip on the dead.
Good. I could slowly enjoy my meal then. Smiling, I swallowed the bloody lump of flesh in my mouth before reaching for more.
"So it can't be helped if I feed on you…right?"
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