Coo... Coo.. chirp..
The cooing and swishing sound of birds chirping filled the air as the morning sun penetrated the canopy of the forest, dappling the floor with dancing patterns of light and shadow. The forest was alive with a sense of renewal and vitality, as the plants and animals awoke to the start of a new day.
Strong winds rushed, they didn't just blow; but screamed through the skeletal canopy of the Ironwood trees, sounding like a choir of the damned. Montu trudged forward, the rhythmic squelch of his boots in the peat-heavy mud mocking his progress. For three weeks, the wilderness had been his only companion—sprawling green trees, towering mountains, hell of rivers that shimmered with an oily, bioluminescent light and air that tasted of damp moss and ancient decay.
"Three weeks," he rasped, his voice a dry friction against the howling gale.
He paused, his fingers trembling as they tightened around the map. The yellow parchment was no longer crisp; it was frayed, stained by sweat and the constant humidity of a forest that felt aggressively alive. He looked at his bow, Dawn's Whisper. Usually, this orange-tier weapon felt like a feather on his back, a testament to his status. Now, it felt like a heavy weight, pulling at his regal jade armor—armor that was once so polished it reflected the sun, now scuffed, mud-caked, and dull.
The forest here smelled of raw, untamed nature: the sharp tang of pine needles, the sweet rot of fallen leaves, and the earthy scent of rain.
"I have been following this map for so long, and there is still no sign of anything." He sighed, while his fingers tightened around the paper.
"Did I come this far for nothing"...
The next night-
Following the map, he finally discovered an ancient temple. The temple shouldn't have been visible in this oppressive, moonless night, yet it glowed faintly with a rhythmic, sapphire light, pulsing like a heartbeat beneath the overgrowth of vines. It looked less like a building and more like a stone beast crouching amidst the strangling vines. At the threshold stood a small red lion statue, its stone jaws frozen in a silent, predatory roar.
"An easter egg," Montu whispered, a spark of the old gamer greed lighting his tired eyes. "Hidden quests... or maybe unique items..."
He threw his shoulder against the door. It didn't budge. The stone was cold—colder than the mountain air.
"Think, Montu. Think." he muttered to himself, running a hand through his matted hair. Sleep deprivation gnawed at his mind—he hadn't logged out in days.
Sleep deprivation was a physical weight on his eyelids. He hadn't logged out in seventy-two hours; the line between the VR world and reality was beginning to blur into a haze of exhaustion.
His gaze fell to the lion. A hunch, born of a thousand quest tropes, took hold. He slid the map into the lion's open jaw.
'Snap'... it immediately shut as he had anticipated.
The ground groaned, a deep, tectonic rumble that sent birds screaming from the trees in a frantic explosion of feathers. The temple doors sank into the earth like a bared throat, revealing an altar bathed in a haunting, ethereal blue.
_____________________________
Cold. That was the first sensation that pierced the void. Not the artificial chill of a haptic suit, but a bone-deep, soul-numbing frost. Montu's eyes flew open, but the vision was... wrong. Everything was draped in a grey, washed-out tint.
He scrambled to sit up, but his muscles felt like rusted machinery. His heart—he waited for the familiar thud in his chest—was silent.
He looked at his hands. They weren't the hands of a top-tier player. The skin was a sickly, bruised light blue, peeling back at the cuticles to reveal dull, yellowish bone. The smell hit him then—not the sweet pine of the forest, but the sweet-and-sour stench of a butcher shop left in the sun.
"What...?"
The memory hit him like a truck. The real world. The dark alleyway. The glint of a knife and the cold laughter of the men who wanted his Mythic drop. He remembered the blood on the pavement and that booming, impossible voice: Do you want another chance to live?
He had said Yes. He had clung to that word like a drowning man to a jagged rock.
"Synchronization complete," a melodic, soft voice, that of a kid, chimed directly into his consciousness.
Montu let out a breath that sounded like a bellows moving through sand. "So... um..the novels and comics were right. Reincarnation comes with a personal system."
He willed the interface to appear. The blue screen flickered to life, but as he read the text, his phantom heart would have stopped if it were still beating.
NAME: ??? 〔NPC〕
RACE: Undead (Zombie)
LEVEL: 1
Strength: 2
Speed: 1
Endurance: 6
Intelligence: 5
Mind: 0
Mana: 0
HP: 35/35
Stat points=0
Evolution points=0
EXCLUSIVE SKILLS: [God's Eye], [EVOLUTION]
SKILLS: [Regenerate - Lv.1]
A laugh bubbled up in his throat, emerging as a wet, guttural rasp. "A zombie? They brought me back as a fucking ZOMBIE?"
He snarled, the movement tearing the dry skin of his lip. He felt the [Regenerate] skill tick over, a strange, itching warmth knitting the dead flesh back together.
"The hell am I supposed to do with a zombie" he shouted, "Dead, dumb and weak. Perfect start" he muttered to himself.
Then, he saw the tag: 〔NPC〕
Non-Player Character.
NPC is any character that is not controlled by the player. Instead, the game's system or AI controls their actions, dialogue, and behavior.
He wasn't a player. He was a part of the world. A target. A mob to be farmed for XP.
But then his eyes drifted to the bottom of the screen. A golden notification was pulsing, vibrating with the weight of destiny.
[30 DAYS UNTIL GLOBAL RELEASE]
Montu froze. The date.
"Hasn't it already been 4 years since the game was released," does that mean I was sent back 4 years in the past, "this is even more amazing, many players who started playing early formed guilds and monopolised many resources"
He was in "DESTINY ETERNAL" the most popular virtual reality game in the year 2437—he had lived it for four years. But if the players hadn't arrived yet... if he was back at the beginning... " I'll be the one to hoard everything now"
His rotting lips pulled back into a gruesome, jagged smile. The "God's Eye" skill—the very item he was murdered for—was now burned into his very soul. No longer a limited-use item, but a permanent skill, a part of his new, decaying body.
And the other ability, 'Regenerate,' allows him to regrow his limbs and all other body parts unless he is destroyed completely.
"Thirty days," he whispered, flexing his skeletal fingers, watching the blue skin stretch over the joints. "Thirty days until the 'heroes' arrive to farm the monsters."
He looked out at the forest, no longer seeing a wilderness, but a buffet of experience points and hidden resources that only a veteran would know.
"Let them come," he hissed. "By the time they log in, I won't be the one in the cage. I'll be the one holding the keys."