Chương 207: Epilogue - Choosing a Path

Argan thrust his pitchfork blindly through the door when they broke it open. That weapon, flimsy though it was, caught the first zombie in the chest. Two of the tines went into its chest, and one of them definitely went through its dead heart, but that wasn't enough to kill it, or extinguish the strange yellow-green fire that burned in its eyes.

With a roar, he pushed back as hard as his slight, fourteen-year-old frame would allow, which succeeded in knocking the creature back where it tumbled to the ground off balance. The victory was a small one, but he would take it, even though it came at the cost of snapping the handle off in his impromptu weapon and leaving him with nothing but a ragged wooden spear. No sooner was that one pushed back, though, than the next monstrosity forced itself through the now open front door.

Argan scampered back a few steps, as his eyes darted around looking for a way out of this. He was the youngest son of a farm family, and way out of his depth. He would have run completely were it not for the sounds of his little sister Kella crying somewhere behind him. As the monster approached, Argan tried to strike it, but was battered aside by the strength of its arm.

The zombie lunged for him then, but he was able to get his broken spear up just in time, and the zombie impaled itself on it, right through the eye, making the flames die immediately as the corpse went limp. That was good, but it still made him freeze for a moment because with the loss of unholy fire, it was once again recognizable as his neighbor, Mr. Tholin. Argan froze, but only for a moment. As soon as he heard the first zombie stumbling to its feet again, he ran to the cookfire and retrieved a hot frying pan.

Then he clubbed it over the head with the cast-iron cookware over and over until it stopped moving and its eyes went dark. The thing that had been Ronnie didn't deserve that kind of beating, either, but what could he do? Until the world had gone insane yesterday, the worst thing that Argan had ever done was help his pa butcher chickens. Somehow, that had traumatized him more than this did, though.

He briefly wondered where his father was, and hoped that his mother and older brother had made it somewhere safe, but there was really no way to know. As he looked out into the darkness in the direction of the village, he could still see enough of the baleful fire that he doubted these would be the last zombies to visit their farmhouse tonight. Argan took one final look around, then tossed his frying pan aside and moved toward the woodaxe embedded in the stump near the shed.

He then returned to his sister, but as soon as he walked through the front door, a strange glowing message appeared. The World is ending. Would you like to select a path? Y/N"Black magic," he gasped, before turning to his sister whose gaze was still fixed on the corpse. He looked from her to the glowing rectangle in front of him and back"Do you see this?" he asked, as much to himself as to his sister. She didn't respond at first, and when she did look up with teary eyes, she asked, "See what? Did you see mom or…"

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. Argan shook his head. She was too traumatized to know what was going on. If a glowing scroll had popped up in front of her face, she probably wouldn't have noticed. He didn't know what was happening, but he didn't hesitate. He just new he needed something more if they were going to survive the night, and if he had to sell his soul to a dark god to do that, he'd gladly do so. In that dark moment, he breathed "yes."

The word was only a whisper, but even as the strange message faded, a tingling feeling filled his body. For a moment, he worried he'd chosen poorly and that it was a trap. Fear whispered that he was about to become one of those undead monstrosities himself, but instead, another message appeared. After examining your soul you are eligible for the following paths: Path of the Farmer: If not for the end of the world, your life would have been a peaceful one.

If you survive, you can still reclaim some small part of that and plant seeds of the future in the burned-out ashes of the past. This path grants minor plant, animal, and weather-based magics, and focuses on rebuilding and taking care of those who fight more than fighting yourself. Path of the Survivor: Only the tough will survive what is happening. This path makes you far more likely to make it. A hard life requires hard choices, though, and the path of a survivor is not an easy one.

This path focuses on combat, with an emphasis on enduring the unendurable. Path of the Hero: The only way to save the world is to save those who can be saved. Such power requires sacrifice, and of the three paths listed here, it is certainly the most dangerous. This path focuses on defending others, impossible odds, and never retreating, whether your foe be a demon or a furnace beast. Even though he was drawn to the last one immediately, Argan was still tempted to ask questions.

He understood more about the way the words glowed than he did about what they meant. The sound of shambling footsteps, however, forced his hand, and instead of hesitating, he said, "I'm not a hero, but for Kella I will be. Give me the Path of the Hero, please." And just like that, more power surged through him. The last time it hummed like a bee caught in his tunic. This time, it felt like he'd gotten too close to the fire and accidentally set himself alight.

It was painful, but he endured it without crying out because that would have scared his sister. When it reached the crescendo, another screen appeared. This one was full of numbers and familiar words like Endurance, Experience, and Strength that were used in unfamiliar contexts, too. There were other terms too, like Last Stand and Downtrodden. Argan didn't have time to read them, let alone understand them. As soon as he started, the sound of something battering the door chased away all such thoughts from his mind.

Now wasn't the time for reading, but for fighting. As he hefted his axe in his hand and forced himself to breathe slowly and calmly, he looked down at the axe in confusion. It seemed much lighter than it had been a moment ago. That must be part of the magic, too, he reflected as another blow shook the door. When this had happened a few minutes ago, he'd been terrified, but now that these creatures were forcing open the door for the second time, he found that fear had been replaced with anticipation.

Argan was ready. He had to win now, not just for his sister, but to understand what the hell the gods had in store for him.