Chương 1: Unemployed

The scent of gasoline and drying asphalt filled the air as security shoved me out of the front door of Valencorp's corporate tower.

"Get a move on, kid." The burly security guard crossed his arms, shaking his head. I adjusted my grip on my milk crate, taking care not to drop the last of my worldly belongings. In movies and TV shows, they always sent everyone packing with a cardboard box. I guess sending me away with a black milk crate with the company logo—a minimalist drawing of Earth, a satellite pointing downwards—was one way to flex their wealth. Inside the crate was a half-filled water bottle, some corporate-branded mints, and a blanket.

"We don't have all day," the security guard said.

"You have thirty seconds to vacate the premises, else I'll call the police, okay?" I grumbled.

"I'm out the front door, is that not good enough?"

"Company property goes to the sidewalk." Construction crews shouted and cursed at each other from the street; the blistering summer heat no help to their, nor my, mood. Overhead, the black tower of Valencorp Headquarters cut along the skyline of Chicago like an evil sore thumb. The sun couldn't even do me the favor of casting shade in this direction.

"Can I at least fill up my water bottle?"

"No. You had that opportunity while you gathered your things," the security guard scoffed. I rolled my eyes and made my way down the steps, leaving my old life behind. Four years. For four years I slaved under their corporate thumb. No raises. No cost-of-living pay increases. By year two, I was stealing granola bars and old pieces of bologna from the cafeteria to keep myself alive. By year three, I'd been evicted from my apartment, and had to resort to sleeping under my desk.

How was I supposed to know that was against company policy? In some ways, I was thankful. My life had become a miserable pit of stagnation. Plus, I'm pretty sure the company was evil. They didn't even let me take my fish tank. Not that I had anywhere to bring my lone guppy, anyway. So, I made my way forward into the bustling streets of Chicago with nowhere to go. No home to go back to. No friends to bum a couch off of.

Maybe I could find a nice bench to sleep on by the lake and work on my tan while I contemplated my new career as a homeless person. Unhoused person? A foreman shouted at me as I put one foot onto the street to cross.

"Hey! This is a construction zone. You'll have to take the long way around." There were no barriers of tape or signs that said do not enter. I took a glance over my shoulder, taking in the tall, evil tower one last time. Maybe in this new chapter of my life, I should be a little more evil. Or at least, a little more selfish. A pinch rebellious. I tilted my head to one side, met the foreman's gaze, and grinned.

"Or else what?" The foreman blinked at me.

"There is heavy machinery. You could get seriously injured without a hard-hat." I shrugged.

"Sorry, I think I'm going to continue this way." The foreman's face grew a deep red, and I continued my walk across the street. Where was I? A nice bench, and a— SNAP! To my right, a road roller barreled towards me at full speed, at least five miles per hour.

"What the hell?!" A pale teenager poked his head out of the driver's seat.

"The fucking throttle locked into full speed! I can't un-jam it!" I stared down in horror as my life flashed before my eyes. I attempted to leap out of the way, but my feet stuck to the wet asphalt. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. I'd have to sacrifice my shoes to survive. I swallowed and pulled my feet out, diving forward and out of the way. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. And not a second too late.

The roller crushed my old sneakers, making them a permanent fixture of the asphalt. At least I didn't lose my milk crate. I dusted myself off as the foreman ran towards me.

"You could have been killed!" A mischievous smile crawled up my cheeks.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." I took a step back and plummeted. Darkness. Cold. The smell of…sewage? From above, the foreman's voice was barely audible.

"He fell down the open manhole into the sewer!" Why was I still falling— CRUNCH! The world buzzed. A flash of pain, followed by the feeling of absolutely nothing. In the darkness, bright white text filled my vision. [Travis Binder: Cause of death - Broken Neck, Massive Head Trauma] [Analyzing…] [Determination: Soul to be granted a second chance. Reincarnation 1/7 granted.] [Universe Selected. Archetype selected: Legendary Hero—] [Recalibrating…] [Incorporating final moments into analysis…] [Observed: Disrespect for authority. Bad vibes.] [Location of Death: Underground.] [Recalibrating…] [Universe Selected. Archetype selected: Villain.] [Class Selected: Necromancer.] [Spawn Point Selected. Dungeon.] The sense of weightlessness disappeared, followed by the sensation of falling. I blinked, and solid ground appeared by feet. I filled my lungs with musty air and coughed.

"Legendary... hero?" I muttered. A flickering light appeared in the distance, and I looked down at myself. I held the same black milk crate, still wore the same dirty blue jeans and t-shirt I died in.

"I could have been a... legendary hero." The one time in my life I was a little edgy, and this happened? The light ahead resolved into a burning torch that illuminated the cave around me. I stood there, frozen, as the torchbearer resolved into a small green creature.

"What the fuck!" I screamed, stepping back to move away but ending up with my back pressed against the cave wall behind me.

"You're a goblin!" The goblin raised a bushy brow, eyes widening. There was a childlike fear in his eyes.

"M-my lord?" My lord? Oh my god. This is a nightmare.

"What the hell is going on?" I whimpered.

"We have been waiting a long time for your arrival, Carrion King," the goblin said.

"Your appearance here has been foretold! Now comes the return of the great Necrodungeon!" Necro…dungeon? The goblin waved the flickering torch to illuminate the multitude of cave paintings. Goblins. Ogres. Skeletons. Blood. Gore. Death. Whatever put me here made a mistake. Villain? Me? What had the text said? Reincarnation 1/7?

"Kill me!" I shouted at the goblin.

"My lord?"

"Kill me! Cut my head off!" If I was killed again, perhaps in the heat of battle, I could recalibrate the system to send me back as a legendary hero instead. Or maybe even a baker. I would take anything over this. I set my milk crate down and raised my fists.

"Do it! Quick, before it's too late!" The puzzled expression never left the goblin's face, but he nodded.

"As you wish, Carrion King." He drew a long, curved blade and charged forward, severing my head with a single cut. [Travis Binder: Cause of death - Beheading.] [Analyzing Final Moments…] [Observed: Demanding murder from subordinates against their best interests. Masochism.] [Location of Death: Dungeon of the Carrion King] [Class Selected: Necromancer.] [Reincarnation 2/7] Pain. Weightlessness. Flashing text. Notifications. The same musty air filled my lungs. There had been no change whatsoever.

The room had changed slightly. A dying torch smoldered on a cave wall, and my milk crate sat next to me. Otherwise, I still wore the same clothes as before… And, standing in front of me, the same goblin. His brown hair had grown past his ears, a new scar crossing the bridge of his nose.

"My lord. The return of the Carrion King. I have waited over a decade for this day—""KILL ME AGAIN!" [Travis Binder: Cause of death - Beheading] [Analyzing Final Moments] [Observed: Quick action. Continued Masochism.] [Location of Death: Dungeon of the Carrion King] [Class Selected: Necromancer] [Spawn Point Selected. Dungeon.] [Reincarnation 3/7] I swallowed, choking back tears as I appeared in the same cave. The only thing that had changed was the room itself. Instead of torches, lanterns hung from iron rods.

Stuck on sticks around me—two skulls. Two very familiar skulls. Wrinkles now lined the goblin's skin, tufts of gray hair sticking from his overly large ears.

"Carrion King. We meet again." He carried the same blade, though it had grown a little straighter, a tad longer. Red runes were scrawled down the center, glowing slightly in the lantern light. Bending a knee, the goblin planted the sword in the ground.

"Your return has grown controversial amongst the clans. But I, as ever, remain your most loyal servant." The system was still wrong. I'm no villain. No Necromancer. Nobody deserving of a loyal goblin follower.

"Why does this keep happening to me? What is your name?" The goblin offered a blank expression.

"Stick, my lord."

"Stick? What kind of name is Stick?" I asked.

"It was given to me because I am the only one from my clan who has stuck around for your return." I swallowed.

"Okay, Stick. Well, this whole thing has been a mistake. I'm not supposed to be here, and I'm not the person you think I am! You need to keep killing me until the system gets it right, do you understand?" Stick hummed.

"And what will become of the dungeon?" I waved my hands at him.

"I don't know! I don't care! Seal it away for all I care. Please, just kill me again." Stick lowered his head, expression down-turned.

"I have anticipated this. I shall do as you command, Carrion King." I took one last deep breath. This time, things would be different.