Chapter 1: The Otherworlder and The Flip of a Coin (1)

-Bzzzzt

An annoyed hand swatted at the buzzing fly. The tiny menace dodged the hand by flying up and circled to the pile of garbage at the bottom. Its incessant buzzing closed in again and the man lying atop the pile of garbage was slowly brought to his senses.

Before he could even try to open his eyes, a splitting headache assualted the man. It seemed like only his pain receptors had woken up as he felt his tiny little head be torn apart into a natural gorge. It was the worst thing to be woken up to. No, there was an even worse sensation crawling upon him.

"Ah, fuck!" The man covered his nose and mouth as he swooped upright.

The stench of wet and dry waste sticking out of the torn garbage bags stuck to him like sweat on a summer day. It seemed someone had a nasty monster meat meal yesterday, as even blood and rotting flesh had latched onto him. The odor drowned his nose and vomit rose from his stomach, as if fighting the stench, the onslaught of the two at once was even worse. He held back the remaining contents of his stomach in his mouth as the man stood up in a fluster and pranced away from the pile of garbage.

Unfortunately, the pain in his head was still too great to ignore. He placed one hand on his head and stumbled to the side. He placed his hand on and leaned against the wall next to him.

The third month.

On this day of his third month in this world, the Otherworlder had woken up in a dark alley filled with trash piling for at least a week.

"I drank too much—Aughh."

The war inside had chosen a victor as the Otherworlder vomited out a farm-fresh gruel of deep-fried, half-digested meat and whiskey of a dozen brands with a side of sauces from last night.

The Otherworlder's mouth and throat burned as the morning air seemed colder than it ever had. His body rested against the jagged concrete wall as his stomach gurgled. His arms and legs lacked their usual vigor, and the headache certainly didn't help. A warm bed and a clean sheet would have done—rather, he would have been fine with a stony bed and hay for cover—but he just had to wake up in a pile of garbage.

"Fuck," he said. Every day was one trouble after the other.

"This truly is the den of misfortune."

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At the dawn of the new day, when the dark of the night and the glow of the morning merged into the twilight, a black robe ran down the narrow streets. The black robe's messy, long hair swayed under the darkness as his rugged fingers cluthed a black tome. Thick leather boots tapped against the uneven stones on the ground, leaving a trail of noises in the figures wake.

"Halt! Cease your antics!"

A blonde warrior in shining armor pointed his sword at the black robe, threatening it to a stop. The blonde warrior's hair glowed under the scant light of the twilight sun, cascading down his sharp eyebrows and teasing his defined cheeks with their tips.

"Necromancer Shil. This is the end. Surrender, and you shall be granted a merciful death." The warrior proclaimed, twisting his sword in intimidation.

"Kek! Kekeke! You, you say this is the end?!" The black-robed man cackled at his words. The robe swayed as he scratched his hair and skin like a mad dog. "Correct! Correct! I was luring you here all along!"

The warrior frowned in confusion, a bad premonition creeping up his back. Without wasting a breath, Necromancer Shil raised his hand. Mana flooded into the black tome and at once a dark purple glow shrouded the streets. The soft light of the twilight succumbed under the purple of the magic circle forming on the ground. The blonde warrior at its core.

"Stupid, stupid, knight! Now d-die for your justice!" Necromancer Shil's voice grated the warrior's ears. "This is what this wretched world deserves. Everyone should die!"

The dark glow formed a miasma and circled around the warrior's legs.

"No!" The warrior couldn't even stumble back as all his energy seeped away into the miasma. He grunted and tried to move, but was sealed on the spot, with the miasma crawling up his skin by the second.

'Was this it?' he thought. 'Was this all I came here for? My mother, my friends... this can't be the end! I can't fall here!'

"Necromancer!!" The warrior's feral scream resounded in the winds. "You won't escape. Even if I fall here...!" In a moment of extreme desperation, the knight summoned all the strength in his body and swung his sword forward. His soul, filled with justice, stood firm until its last moments and created a miracle.

The sword flew forward and lodged itself into the necromancer's feet, as the black miasma swallowed the knight.

As if the it had all been a mirage, the dark glow faded away from the streets and the light of the sun returned. The miasma covering the knight dispersed. A stench of rotting flesh whiffed with it, spreading into the streets and then into the city. Toned muscles pulsing with courage had turned into purple bags of flesh. The sharp face and envyous features of the warrior had disappeared, and a gory, rotting being of the dead stood in his place.

"Hah. Haha. HAHAHAH!!"

Victory.

Victory was in his hands.

His curse had worked. The key to take over the kingdom, the world, was in his hands.

"N-now! Zombie Knight!" The pain of his mangled leg felt like the scent of flowers to the elated necromancer as he waved his hands in joy at the sight of his perfected soldier. "Eat up everyone in this town. Make them all bow to me!"

"Grrrr" The Zombie warrior, now free of its shackles, growled and stepped ahead. The necromancer continued to cackle as the monster moved to his will, to his desire.

The zombie knight growled again—and pounced on the necromancer.

"Wh-what! What are you doing?"

"AAH!! NOO!!"

Shil crawled back to get away from the zombie knight, but was too late. Part of his leg was torn off by its teeth.

With the same might that made him laugh, Necromancer Shil now ran.

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Fresh morning breeze blew over the town, the refreshing wind caressing the townfolks.

Long-eared elves danced a primal groove, and winged fairies screamed and scurried playfully down the bright stone streets. Their feet trampled over the few weeds and flowers growing in between the cracks on the gray pavement.

Beastkin and Humans in heavy armor gaffed to face the monster called another day. They stepped out of the wooden doors and the brick houses all around with axes and swords resting on their shoulders and food and water hanging from their waists. Some had even started sparring right where they stood out of excitement.

A fleet of mothers and fathers crowded the doors of the opened shops, pushing and leaning over the counters and signboards, while others banged on the shutters of the closed ones.

Everyone seemed to be bustling with life at the beginning of a new day, everyone, except one man. Dragging his body like a corpse, under the shadows of the small buildings and through the streets, the Otherworlder's steps and stench colored the beautiful morning the shade of gloom. His poise lips frowned, half in annoyance at his state and half from the lack of control over his expressions.

He walked without care for others and himself, his eyes threatening to close from the pain as he staggered a drunk's gait. And then, the Otherworlder crashed into someone.

"Grrr!!" the person growled in a low voice and sniffed the Otherworlder, whose head had sent an all new and updated wave of pain at the sudden jerk. Hangover was rough.

"Gh, I'm… Soryeh…" The Otherworlder managed to growl back before turning away and continuing ahead. Did that person just sniff him. It was strange, but he wasn't foreign to the fetishes of the people here.

Shaking his head, the Otherworlder glanced back. The guy he had bumped into was limping.

'I am not the only one with a killer hangover, huh?'

The Otherworlder found solace in this discovery and continued ahead. People around him left his vision under the veil of his headache. Just a few more turns and he would reach the inn he had been renting out.

-Tap.

A pebble rolled through the streets and tapped against his feet.

"A… Help…!"

A scream entered his ears. The Otherworlder turned to his side in the direction of the scream.

Mere feet away, in an alleyway, a young girl was pinned against the ground. Like a spawn of the demon, a man had pounced on her, trapping her under his arms, as she held his head back with all her might. The girl twisted and flailed to struggle free, but the monsterous man that dressed like a warrior was too powerful for her to escape from.

Blood drizzled down the armor of the assaulter and plopped to the ground. That bit wasn't strange wasn't strange, considering the enormous dent in his blonde skull.

"Dent.. Huh?" the Otherworlder muttered, amused at his observation. He narrowed his eyes and looked closer, a dent was interesting. It made him wonder, how was that person moving, let alone overpowering the girl? The Otherworlder's head still ached, so he leaned closer to the two and observed the assault more carefully. The man's skin was purple and eyes madder. Maggots scrambled in his cheeks and bits of flesh stuck out of his teeth. Assault? It looked as if that evil spawn was going to eat her instead.

"Eat..."

A bucket of cold water was emptied out on the Otherworlder inside his head. The clouds in his mind vanished, the painful mist in his eyes blew away, the sensations dulled by the throbbing in his head became vivid once more and the constant beep in his ears finally had its volumed cranked down to zero.

"HELP!"

The Otherworlder's senses came back to him.

Zombies.

The shouting elf children, the sparring people, the overcrowded shops, the banging doors, the person he bumped into.

They were all zombies.

"W-w-what the fuck?!" The Otherworlder exclaimed, stumbling back to a standing position away from the two. "That means they didn't attack me because I stink like rotting flesh and walk like a goddamn zombie?" His anger was greater than his surprise.

"Help me, please!"

The Otherworlder looked down again. A person was about to be eaten by some macho zombie warrior in front of his eyes. No matter how hungover or stinky he was, as someone who could think, he was sure that the girl pinned underneath was still a human.

"Help! I'll give you anything!" she said, trying her best to keep the zombie at bay. "Please, please help me."

To help, or not to help.

The Otherworlder reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin.

"You're up, lady luck," he whispered and placed the coin on his thumb.

"What?" The girl looked at him with extreme confusion in her eyes. "Help me! Please!"

"Shut up!" The Otherworlder said. "If it's heads, I will. If it's tails, I won't."

Without waiting for an answer, the Otherworlder flicked his thumb.

And the coin soared in the sky.

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