The nothingness imploded into a cacophony of searing pain and the overwhelming sensation of dry drowning. Corbin—or the consciousness that now answered to that name, trapped in an unfamiliar shell—gasped, the air tearing at a throat that didn't feel like his, bringing with it the thick smell of smoke, coagulated blood, and something else, something fundamentally rotten.
He was on his stomach, his face pressed against cold, stony earth. He opened his eyes, or rather, the eyes of the body he now occupied opened, and the first sight was a blur of brown and gray, which slowly focused into splinters of wood and the irregular outline of a collapsed wall. A violent dizziness struck him, accompanied by a wave of nausea that made him swallow hard, the bitter taste of bile rising.
Gradually, the sounds (or lack thereof) registered. An oppressive silence, broken only by the distant crackling of some stubborn ember and the low howl of the wind seeping through the ruins of what had once been a house. Forcing his strangely heavy and aching limbs, Corbin dragged himself, groaning softly, to the precarious protection of a dark corner formed by two partially standing walls, beneath what remained of a staircase. The smell of death was a suffocating blanket.
"Clumsy God," the thought echoed in his mind, an ember of cold anger amidst the confusion and unease. "Tossed me here like cosmic trash."
He needed to understand. First, himself. "AI…" he projected the thought, an uncertain attempt. "Where am I? What is this place?"
A subtle sensation, like a mental interface aligning, responded. Not a voice, but clear text appeared in his internal vision, as if projected onto an invisible screen: [AI: Processing error. Local database: NULL. Knowledge of current world: NONEXISTENT. Unable to provide contextual information.]
Corbin clenched teeth that weren't his. "Useless. Of course it would be useless. 'Unlimited potential,' he said. Potentially unlimited in its initial uselessness, more like!" Frustration with the grandfatherly God bubbled up, but pragmatism quickly took over. If the AI couldn't help with the outside world, perhaps it could help with the inside. 'AI,' he thought again, more firmly. "Open the [System]."
The response was immediate. A translucent, almost ethereal window materialized before his eyes, floating gently in the air. He discovered, with a mixture of strangeness and a familiarity born from countless hours of gaming, that he could interact with it with a simple touch of his new fingers. Tabs lined the top: [Status], [Skills], [Inventory] (which he suspected was empty), [Missions], and a curious [Shop].
His first touch was on the [Status] tab. The information that appeared was dense, but he devoured it with the eagerness of a castaway clinging to a plank.
[Name: Corbin (Reincarnated Soul)] [Race: Human (Spirit Vessel)] [Class: Necromancer (Apprentice)] [Level: 0] [XP: 0 / 100] [Free Attribute Points: 0] [Free Skill Points: 0] [HP: 70 / 90] [System Note: "Newly Inhabited Body" – Maximum vitality temporarily limited to 90 HP. Natural vitality recovery severely limited for the next 12 hours.] [MP: 120 / 120] [Base Attributes:] [Strength (STR): 9] [Agility (AGI): 10] [Vigor (VIG): 8] [Intelligence (INT): 15] [Wisdom (WIS): 14] [Charisma (CHA): 7] [Luck (LCK): 10] [Control Points (CP): 7] [Additional Statuses:] [Current Condition: Stable.] [Affected by: "Reincarnation Trauma" – Reduced concentration and increased vulnerability to mental stress for the next 6 hours.] [Necromantic Aura: Hidden (Innate).] [System Interface: Active (Innate).]
Corbin then navigated to the [Shop] tab. To his surprise, a single item was blinking there: [System Welcome Gift]. With a hesitant touch, he "opened" it.
[You received: +5 Free Attribute Points!] [You received: +2 Free Skill Points!] [Innate Skill Luck Roulette activated!]
A brief animation of a roulette wheel spinning in his interface, and then:
[New Innate Skill acquired: Soul Echo Harvest (Level 1)!]
He returned to the [Status] tab and distributed the points: [+2 to VIGOR], [+2 to INTELLIGENCE], [+1 to WISDOM]. His stats updated:
[Vigor: 10] [Intelligence: 17] [Wisdom: 15] [HP: 75 / 95] ([True Maximum Potential: 106], debuff still active) [MP: 132 / 132] [Control Points (CP): 8]
Satisfied, for now, with the attributes, he touched the [Skills] tab. His three innate skills – [Necromantic Concealment], [System Interface], and the newly acquired [Soul Echo Harvest (Level 1)] – glowed softly, already active. Below them, a concise list presented the 'Skills Available for Unlock,' each with a cost of [1 SP]. There were basic necromantic options, like raising different types of undead or perceiving death energies, and some general utility and survival skills the system offered him. With only [2 SP] to spend, the choice needed to be strategic. Information and a first tool for action seemed the most sensible. He didn't hesitate long. He unlocked [Analyze (Level 1)] and [Raise Lesser Skeleton (Level 1)]. The [2 SP] available in his status vanished, converted into potential.
Now, with tools. He peeked out of his hiding place. The smell of blood and ashes was still strong. The silence, heavy. It was time to understand this slaughterhouse. First, [Analyze]. He focused on the nearest rammed earth wall.
[Rammed Earth Wall (Basement)] [Structure: Ancient, high humidity. Integrity: Compromised at some points. Risk of partial collapse under moderate impact.] [Mana Cost for Analysis: 0 MP.]
As expected. He then turned, his heart beating a little faster than he'd like to admit, and focused on the villager's corpse that was closest, partially visible in the gloom.
[Analyze.]
[Human Corpse (Male Villager)] [Condition: Recent death (approx. 8-12 hours). Cause of death: Multiple wounds from claws and bites; exsanguination.] [Residual Necrotic Energy: Weak.] [Potential for Reanimation (Skill: Raise Lesser Skeleton Lv.1): Suitable.]
"Suitable." The word seemed like a dark invitation. He looked at his [MP: 132/132]. The [Raise Lesser Skeleton (Level 1)] skill cost [10 MP per skeleton], for a total of [20 MP] for the two he could control. It would use [2 CP] of his [8 CP] available. There was a [Cooldown: 30s]. Everything calculated.
Taking a deep breath of the stale air, Corbin extended a trembling hand towards the corpse. Not out of fear of the dead, but in anticipation of the unknown power. He channeled the intent, the mana. A subtle tug in his mind, and he felt the [20 MP] draining away.
Instantly, a dark energy, like veins of liquid obsidian, sprouted from his outstretched fingers, slithering across the basement floor and enveloping the villager's body. A low, crystalline hum filled the silence for an instant. The corpse's flesh didn't rot; it changed. In seconds, the body's form became a dark, brittle statue, the skin and muscles crystallizing into a substance resembling vitreous coal. A tense silence, and then, with an implicit mental command from him, the shadowy husk began to crack.
Dry, sharp cracks, like thin glass shattering, echoed through the basement. Black fragments fell, splintering on the floor into a fine dust that soon dissipated into the thin air. From amidst the remains, two forms arose. Skeletons. Their bones had a darkened ivory, almost polished tone, and in their empty sockets, two points of cold, pale light flickered, fixing on Corbin with an expectant attention utterly devoid of life. One of them still had a tattered piece of cloth clinging to a rib. A cold air and a faint metallic odor, like ozone, lingered around the newly risen figures.
Corbin watched, the analytical core of his mind registering every detail. There was no triumph, no horror within him, just a cold realization. It worked. He felt the connection, two mental threads linking him to those two things. "Rise," he thought, the command flowing through the system interface. The skeletons, which were half-bent, straightened with a series of dry clicks, their movements clumsy yet precise. "Stop." They froze. "Look towards the exit." The two skulls turned in unison.
He had servants. Two. It wasn't an army, far from it. But it was a start. A grim start in a devastated world. He looked at the skeletons, then towards the basement exit. The village outside was still a bloody enigma. But now, he had tools.