Chương 84: Like avatar, but zombie

A field of tall grass stretched beyond the horizon. In the middle of it stood a lone figure. A woman in her thirties, with tanned skin and two long braids. A long thin sword rested on her shoulder. Her posture was relaxed, without even a hint of tension. Looking at her, one might think she was bored, but there was something deeper in her gaze. Pure serenity. A moment later, she struck. The blade passed through the field, an endless cut, like an exhale. Not a single blade of grass was damaged.

She smirked in satisfaction. A man ran through the battlefield, surrounded by fire, metal and blood. He was a hulking figure, a monster of strength and mass. A berserker, a mindless machine of violence. In each hand he held a two-handed sword. Didn't get the memo that it was impractical. He just liked the way his strikes went through shields as if they weren't there. He just loved the violence. A soldier stood in a formation, one among many, sword and shield in hand. He hated the fight. He just wanted to go home.

He dreamt of his wife while his body moved on its own. He passed out, and woke up as the last one standing. A kid stole a dagger from a rich merchant. It was too big for him, and he didn't know any of those fancy moves. But he figured out a few tricks, and it worked out. No one harassed him anymore. It wasn't that hard to stab people. A scholar decided to prove that he was more than just scrolls and academics.

He picked the fanciest weapon there was, developed the optimal move set from scratch, and practiced for a few days. After winning the tournament, his critics shut up, and he went back to his true passion, the study of rocks. A girl hid in the bushes, spying on the clan's training. Later, she found a stick that was more or less the right length, and tried to do the same forms. She would never hold a sword in her life. She wouldn't need it. A stick turned out to be enough. An old man wrote poetry.

There was something special in his brush strokes. A scion of a noble clan lost a bet, and had to learn the barbarian's fighting style. An elf was dancing under the moon. A war-machine considered upgrading its melee options. A dragon really liked tearing things with its claws. A prince sneaked out to do more training. A murderer really loved it when her prey fought back. The more skilled, the better. A falcon enjoyed the way its wings cut through the air. A mother picked up a knife to protect her children.

Thousands of lives, thousands of fates, all with a little something extra special. A glimpse into lifetimes, all of them different, yet all of them touching on the same concept. Something too big to be put into words. Too ephemeral to be simply called 'talent'. It was hard work. It was luck. It was just a coincidence of circumstances. It was a mountain hidden behind the trees, and all of those people, men, women, animals, robots, bugs, aliens—all of them circled that mountain, carrying just a glimpse of it.

He couldn't see their faces, and he didn't know their names. Truly, he knew very little about them. Just two things. All of them were special. And all of them were dead. He was certain of it, because he knew deep in his heart that one couldn't take that special thing from a person. It wouldn't work, it wasn't something that could be grasped. And if it couldn't be taken, it meant what was taken was everything else, until only the special thing remained. Spewed out like a bone after a meal. And then given to him.

Dennis didn't have a soul. He had a graveyard. Of fates, of talents, of coincidences. A patchwork of enlightenments, strewn together with uneven thread into the most horrifying blanket in the world. Or, a corpse. A Frankenstein's monster, not a single body part truly its own, and yet it still moved, and every cell in its body screamed for battle. He could see how it would scare people. This thing was incapable of anything but wielding a weapon. He could see why the System didn't recognize it as a Soul.

To do so would be the same as to say that a sausage was a healthy animal. This thing was supposed to be Dennis' Soul, but of course it wasn't. His Soul was the thread. The stitches. The packaging. The bare minimum required to hold it all together. And it was growing, slowly, like an infection, through the flesh. / - / He opened his eyes. The ceiling was, once again, unfamiliar. He understood the irony of it. He was lying on the floor, still in that store.

Someone had put a backpack under his head, to be used as a pillow. He could hear the whispers of conversation, too quiet to pick out the words. Whatever it was, they didn't want to wake him up. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. His hand reached for Muramasa, and he found it just slightly outside of reach again. Whoever had done this–Lily, probably–was still worried about his stabbing tendencies. That was good.

He was also worried about those, especially after seeing the source of his so-called 'talent'. It wouldn't be a good day for anyone if he was startled and with a blade in reach. He groaned, sitting up. His back was numb.

"You are awake," El'el pointed out the obvious, sitting crouched in an office chair with her knees drawn up to her chest, spinning. The fuck? She was an alien.

"Was the vision informative?" She asked without stopping, going in circles.

"Are you okay?" Lily asked almost at the same time.

"You were out of it for about ten minutes." Dennis placed a finger near his chin, trying to figure out his true feelings on the matter.

"I feel robbed," he decided.

"I under–" El'el started saying.

"I had a certified magical trip vision, but there were no mushrooms involved," he elaborated.

"No incense, no peace pipe. Not even a proper shaman or appropriately weird background music, just…" He waved his hand in El'el's direction. She was still spinning on the office chair, her momentum stable and unwavering, not a hint of emotion on her face.

"At least learn some throat singing for the next time, okay? It's, like, the basics. This was embarrassing." El'el grabbed the nearby shelf and stopped, facing him.

"I will strive to do better in the future," she said seriously.

"I'll write you up a list," he said.

"You know, of complaints and suggestions." She nodded.

"Thank you."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Mary stood up, waving her arms.

"Aren't you missing the point?!" She looked pointedly at each one of them one by one.

"So what is the deal with his soul? I'm invested now. Tell me. This is the most interesting thing that has happened to me in months. Don't just drop it!"

"Oh, um…" Dennis started talking, before realizing that while the vision was informative, it was also… visiony.

"I'm not actually sure?" He said.

"I guess I'm like a zombie? Sausage? Zombie sausage?"" What does that mean?!" Everyone turned to look at El'el, the resident zombie sausage expert.

"Um…" The elf seemed slightly lost for words.

"In the space where a Soul is supposed to reside, Dennis has a construct instead of it."

"The zombie sausage," he agreed.

"It is strong," she said.

"Focused. The Soul is supposed to be an ocean of possibilities, but what he has instead is… almost like a skill. Distinct in its purpose, when a Soul shouldn't have a purpose. I would've called it Intent to Cut, or maybe, Battle Lust, but those feel wrong. It shouldn't work as a Soul. And, I suppose, it doesn't. It cannot be a natural occurrence, it's almost like someone carved out a space inside of him and put the construct in there. I… fear to imagine the power and skill required for such a thing.

I didn't know it was possible."

"But…" Lily seemed unsure.

"He has a Soul?"

"It's squeezed in there," Dennis said.

"You know, like, when you don't have any space left in the washing machine but you manage to push an extra shirt inside anyway? But it's also growing. Like, a cannibalistic shirt that conquers other clothing. Or maybe it's pink, and ruins everything else?"

"I think I'm a bit lost with the analogies," Mary admitted.

"Wait, you know how to wash clothes?!" Lily looked at him in shock.

"Of course I do! Some of them require extra care, to not damage the print!"

"But who could've done it…" El'el muttered quietly.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure it was the Xin guy," he said. He heard a quiet gasp. El'el was looking at him in shock, her face pale.

"I– I think I heard you wrong", she stuttered.

"C-could you please repeat that?" / - / Dennis walked in the middle of the road, scaring off monsters with his zombie soul, his mind busy. While others were slightly behind, Lily walked just by his side, as if trying to keep him company. She was doing her robo-Lily thing again, and he wondered if he should tell her that it made her easier to read. The less she tried to show, the more she magically projected her thoughts.

It was like she was trying to inverse her own skill, force it to do the complete opposite of its purpose. She was worried about him. She was worried that he was going to spiral again. He didn't plan to.

"I'm fine," he said again, looking forward up the road.

"I know," she replied.

"I basically knew all that stuff already."

"Mhm."

"I figured that the Xin guy was after my ass ages ago," he told her.

"And I knew he was overpowered. It's nothing new."

"It's okay to worry."

"I'm not worried."

"I'm not saying that you are," she didn't fight him.

"But… you might be. In the future. I don't think they understand how new this is for you, and I'm telling you that it will be okay if you will. Everyone worries, sometimes." For every question answered, he got two brand new ones. The more he found out, the more he didn't understand.

"He probably got his ass beaten by the sword guy," Dennis said.

"Otherwise he'd be here already. And he's not. So… no reason to worry."

"But the sword guy is also not here," she pointed out.

"If he won, shouldn't he–""Shut up, Lily," he said quietly. A pang of guilt shot through him.

"I– I'll manage. I just need a bit of time to think."

"That's what I'm worried about," she said without looking at him.

"You're gonna overthink it again. And then panic. And get stuck. And probably hate yourself again for some dumb reason. So I'm going to exercise my newfound prowess as a living, breathing person to stop you from doing that." She looked at the ground, unsure.

"Do you still hear voices?"

"Sometimes," he admitted.

"They're not mean to you, are they? Don't listen to them if they're mean."

"Since when did I take shit from anybody?" He could see the corner of her mouth twitch. She suppressed a smile, didn't she?

"True," she said.

"Keep doing that. That's my prescription to you as one zombie to another." He chuckled.

"We're, like, zombie buddies," he said.

"Yeah." She nodded, and he could see her smiling. It felt nice, to make Lily forget about her 'show no emotion' routine, if only for just a moment.

"Zombie buddies." Somehow, he felt better. Still confused about the whole Xin thing, but it didn't feel like an immediate problem anymore. Okay, like, an overpowered evil overlord was measuring dick sizes with another overpowered sword guy just behind the corner, in the Echo, and both of them clearly wanted something from him, but… There was pretty much nothing he could do about it, and since none of them was here, it meant that he was fine. Probably. Maybe. He was fine.

"Zombie buddies," he muttered to himself.

"Thanks, Lily."

"Sure."

"Um, guys?" Mary called them from behind. She looked nervous. There was a blue butterfly in her hand, slowly fading into nothing.

"I– Let's stop for a minute, I need to do some lady business behind the corner." Dennis could empathize. Having a real body was… inconvenient.

"Don't get eaten by a shadowcat," he warned.

"I can go with you," Lily proposed.

"I'm pretty strong."

"No!" Mary waved her hands in protest, almost panicking.

"I– um, I'm very shy. It's okay, just… A moment." She ran off. Eh, it was fine. His skill would ping him if she was in trouble. Fifteen minutes later, El'el went to check on her. She returned alone.

"I believe," she said calmly as she approached.

"Mary is missing."