Requirements met: Death


    The Aspect of Death has been successfully infused.


    High Aspect Affinity has triggered Aspect Nexus Interface.


    My eyes fluttered open, and I became instantly aware of the numbing ache in my body as if I’d been dragged through the very depths.


    “Ooaaahhh,” I groaned. My lips were dry, and my throat felt lined with shards of glass. Something was on my eyes, and I reached to rub at them, instantly regretting the sudden attempt at movement. The skin of my arm made a sound like sandpaper rubbing together. Pain shot through it like a hot poker.


    I lay there until the stabbing ache turned into a dull thrum.


    At the same time, I realized what I thought was in my eye was actually text, glowing like ethereal rings. My mind began to process how odd of an event that was, seeing as my eyes were closed.


    I blinked, trying to make sense of the words floating before me.


    Aspect Nexus? Infusion of Death? Oh god. Did I die?!


    It was then I realized I wasn’t breathing. With some effort, I inhaled. The air filled my lungs, but it was a strange sensation, devoid of my chest''s familiar expansion and contraction.


    I raised a trembling hand, instinctively reaching out to touch the interface. As I suspected, there was nothing in front of me. The words were inside my head. I noticed a five-pointed star icon on the upper-right corner of my vision.


    The star icon pulsed softly, beckoning me to interact with it. With a hesitant thought, I willed myself to touch the symbol. In an instant, a flood of information surged through my mind, overwhelming my senses.


    Welcome, Antonio Perez, Bearer of the Tomb Lord’s Death Aspect.


    Current Summary:


    Class: Necromancer


    Race: Basic Undead


    Path: Options Available*


    Level 1 [XP: 0/100]


    <ul>


    <li>


    Status:


    </li>


    </ul>


    Health: 1/100


    Mana: 50/50


    <ul>


    <li>


    Attributes:


    </li>


    </ul>


    Strength:1


    Intelligence: 10


    Agility:5


    <ul>


    <li>


    Spells:


    </li>


    </ul>


    ·        Decaying Touch (Level 1)Cost: 0 Mana


    Cause necrosis with a touch. [Can spend Mana to accelerate decay]


    ·      Raise Dead (Level 1) – Cost: 15 Mana


    Summons an undead minion from a suitable corpse. Maximum number of soul-linked minions based on current level: 3. Soul-linked minions retain their strength and form indefinitely.


    Note: Non-soul-linked minions will deteriorate after a short time and may become unstable.


    [XP: 0/100][Set Custom Phrase]


    ·        Consume Corpse (Level 1): Cost: 0 Mana


    Consume a corpse, gaining health and mana. [XP: 0/100]


    Aspect Mastery:


    ·        Death Aspect (Affinity 90%)


    Special Abilities:


    ·        Soul Sight: See and communicate with spirits and souls.


    ·        Corpse Plunder: Instantly loot items from the recently deceased. Items will be automatically sent to Soul Stash.


    ·        Tomb Lord’s Soul Stash: Store and retrieve items within an ethereal dimension created by the Tomb Lord. Items are only accessible to one with the Tomb Lord’s aspect.


    Quests:


    ·        Active: "Escape the Stronghold" - Make your way out of the stronghold. [Reward: 100 XP]


    ·        Completed: None


    Inventory:


    ·        Minor Grave Token: A small item infused with necromantic energy. Can be used instead of mana for spells. Each Grave token counts as 10 mana points for the necromantic arts. [Quantity: 3]


    Applicable Lore:


    ·        Aspect Origins: The aspects originated from the primordial beings...*


    ·        Tomb Lord: A legendary necromancer who...*


    I was overwhelmed by the flood of information bombarding me. Bearer of the Death Aspect? Skills like Raise Dead and Soul Sight? A quest to explore the stronghold? It was all so much to take in, especially considering I had just been burning alive moments before.


    Did my soul get sucked into a video game?!


    I blinked, trying to process the sudden influx of knowledge. As I looked around, I noticed that I was no longer in the room of fire and smoke. Instead, I was in a dimly lit chamber.


    A musty scent of dampness and decay filled the air like the room had been sealed for centuries.


    I caught sight of my left arm and would have screamed if my throat hadn’t been so dry.


    It was almost completely charred, with blackened skin stretching across bones that looked like they would crumble with the slightest touch.


    I swallowed hard, trying to quell the rising nausea as I took inventory of the rest of my body. My skin was a mess, with patches of burned flesh merging into swollen, blistered areas.


    My clothes were in tatters, hinting at the violence of my ordeal.


    So I really am undead…


    Unable to think with the writing etched into my vision. I looked for a way to get rid of it. The text suddenly disappeared with the thought.


    What. The. Fudge.


    Unsure of what else to do, I took a moment to get my bearings. There was a good chance this was all a hallucination from my dying mind. There was probably no oxygen left in the sarcophagus, and all of this was the last vestiges of thought before my end. That scenario made more sense, and I wasn’t sure if it was preferable to this bizarre reality.


    Okay. First things first. Let’s figure out where we actually are, in case I’m not dying.


    I tried to get up, but the effort sent searing pain coursing through my body.


    Or not.


    I gritted my teeth and willed myself to push through the agony, slowly making my way to a sitting position. As I did, my vision began to clear from its pain-filled haze, revealing the room around me.


    It was dimly lit by torches on the walls that emitted an eerie blue light.


    Several piles of cloth and what looked like medieval armor were scattered across the ground. A bony, skeletal hand peeked through one of the piles of cloth, and I realized they were bodies.


    “Oh god, what is happening?!” I croaked, looking down at my own charred body that looked half a corpse. I let out a strained chuckle, wondering if I had gone mad.


    "This can''t be real..." I looked around the room, taking in the creepy ambiance.


    “It is,” a voice called out behind me that sounded eerily familiar.


    I jolted, my heart pounding in my chest. I slowly turned around, scanning the darkness. I’d recognized the voice. A glowing silhouette came toward me from the corner of the room. Something within me knew who it was, though I had no idea how.


    “Venna?”


    "Yes, Toni," she replied. Though her appearance was completely different from the person I saw at the cemetery, her voice was the same.


    Before I could freak out further, she raised a hand and said, "I’m sure you are feeling disoriented. Things are going to be a lot more… different than what you’re used to."


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    I stared blankly, trying to make sense of her words and the fact that I was speaking to a ghost. "Different? How?"


    Venna floated forward, her glowing form slightly illuminating the room. "You have been infused with the Death Aspect."


    “The Death Aspect?” I repeated incredulously. "What does that even mean? And why do you… look like that?"


    My mind raced with questions as I took in her ethereal appearance.


    Venna smiled softly.


    “I am what you would call a spirit. I was once human like you, but I chose to serve the Tomb Lord, even through death. I’ve waited so long to find someone who could take his aspect. What is your affinity percentage?”


    I squinted, trying to read the information shimmering inside my head. "Um, 90%."


    Her shimmering eyes went wide.


    “Did you say ninety percent?”


    "Y-yes," I stammered, unsure of what the percentage meant.


    Venna froze.


    "You are so close to its full potential…" she trailed off as if piecing out the implications. “Which means you have access to the Nexus. Did you get any special abilities?”


    I brought up the menu with a thought; the action was utterly alien yet somehow simultaneously natural.


    My mind was a tornado of chaos, so I clung to Venna’s questions like a life raft amidst the storm.


    I repeated the listed abilities. “Soul Sight, Corpse Plunder, and The Tomb Lord’s Soul Stash.”


    Venna grinned widely, her translucent form pulsing.


    “This is better than I could have hoped.”


    “What is going on?!” I demanded, voice wheezing from the strain of raising it.


    “I know you have many questions, and I will answer what I can. But first, you must heal yourself before we continue; your health is dangerously low. You should have the ability to consume corpses, yes?"


    "Y-yeah," I replied, not believing the conversation I was having.


    "Good." The ghostly woman motioned toward a nearby pile of bones and frayed clothing. "Focus on this one. Does anything appear?"


    I did as she instructed, and to my astonishment, a sickly green and black glow formed around it.


    Text appeared behind my eyes.


    Consumable corpse.


    Consume? Yes/No.


    God, I can’t believe I’m doing this.


    With a mental ‘yes,’ the light grew brighter, and the remains lit up before dissolving into sickly green light; the light coalesced before zipping toward me.


    Immediately, the ache in my charred body lessened, replaced by a cozy warmth. My blackened skin began to mend, flesh re-growing to cover the exposed muscle and bone. I couldn''t believe it. I had consumed a corpse to heal myself. My status flashed behind my eyes, and I saw that my health had risen to 31.


    I stared at my renewed flesh with a slack jaw, trying to process the events that had led me to this point. None of which made any sense.


    “Excellent,” Vienna nodded. “That ability will be invaluable in the journey to come.”


    “The journey to come?”


    Venna raised a hand, “Yes. Consume a few more until your health is fully restored.”


    I did as she instructed, focusing on another pile.


    I’m going insane. This is insane.


    Three corpses later, my health was at a hundred.


    I looked up at Venna, my mind reeling from the surreal situation. “Please, tell me what’s going on. Am I going crazy? What is this place? Did I actually die?” The questions poured out of me relentlessly, each one more frantic than the last.


    Venna’s lips pursed together, and she gave me a sympathetic look.


    "You''re not losing your mind. Although you might wish you were once you find out the truth. To answer your last question, yes, you did die. It is the only way one can absorb the Aspect of Death. Your blood was deemed compatible. More than compatible. This,” she said, motioning around us, “Is what remains of the stronghold of Kaelen Grave, the hero otherwise known as the Tomb Lord—the greatest necromancer to ever live. And, quite possibly, the most incredible man.”


    Her voice was somber, reminiscent when she mentioned his name.


    My brow furrowed as I tried to wrap my mind around all this.


    "Necromancer? You mean, like, raising dead people?"


    "Yes, exactly like that. And so much more. Necromancers are about control, about manipulating the very walls of life and death itself. Kaelen Grave was one such wielder. The second person to have ever absorbed the Death Aspect. With eighty-seven percent affinity. The highest ever until now…”


    Venna''s voice trailed off as she looked at me, her eyes flickering with hope and sadness.


    I shook my head in disbelief.


    “This-this doesn’t make any sense. It can’t be real. Necromancy. Spells and summoning and controlling the dead? This is just a game, right? Some sort of immersive virtual reality experience? That''s it. It has to be. Maybe I did die, and my consciousness was sucked into some sort of simulation."


    Vienna sighed, the action bringing attention to the fact she had no lungs to speak of.


    "It is not a game, Toni. As much as I wish it were. No, you have truly crossed into another realm, and you are in a very grave situation. We all are.”


    "Another realm?” I asked in disbelief. "But how? Why? And what do you mean by ''grave situation''?”


    Before Venna could respond, an inhuman, spine-chilling screech echoed down a dark hallway to our left.


    “Uh, what was that?”


    Venna''s eyes widened, and she said frantically, "Toni, you must go. Rajek’s minions still guard the stronghold. I had thought he would call them back after all these years.”


    I shook my head, overwhelmed and at my limit with everything happening.


    “Look, I can’t take any more of this. Just tell me what’s going on. Who’s Rajek? What—”


    “I’m sorry, but there is no time to get into details,” Venna interrupted. “This was not how I wanted to welcome you to Veridis. You aren’t ready to face a shrowder. I’ll possess it for as long as I can. Make your way down that corridor. Go left once you hit the intersection, and keep running until you are outside. They can’t go in sunlight.”


    “No!" I shouted, my mental fortitude finally breaking. “Screw this. Screw you. Screw this place, wherever the hell it is. I’m done! I was just freaking burned alive! No,” I said again, my body shaking as the trauma of that ordeal came flooding back.


    My voice broke with sobs, "I don''t want to be here anymore. I can''t do this. Just...just let me go back! Make this all go away! You can do that, right? Unplug me or whatever."


    Venna placed a hand on my arm, her translucent fingers icy cold against my skin.


    “I cannot. Nor would I. You have been chosen for a purpose, Toni. A purpose much greater than you can possibly fathom. The fate of Veridis and many other worlds, including your own, rests on your shoulders.”


    "But why?" I whispered, my voice barely audible as the weight of what she had just told me settled upon me.


    “I-I’m no hero.”


    She cupped my face, an all-knowing smile tugging at her lips.


    “Heroes are not born, Toni. They are forged by circumstances beyond their control.”


    Another screech, this one much closer, filled the air, and the corridor shook with each terror-inducing note. It shook me from my reverie.


    Venna''s words struck me as I glanced down at the menu again, my heart pounding in my chest.


    If this was all true, my life, my world, and everything else had changed in the blink of an eye.


    This can’t be happening.


    What about Tyler? What would everyone at home think?


    As the screech echoed through the halls once more, I felt a sense of urgency wash over me.


    If the talking ghost, draining dead bodies, and the strange menu system in my brain weren’t enough, what I saw next confirmed it all.


    The entranceway to our left suddenly disappeared as if replaced by an impenetrable veil of darkness.


    And then it moved.


    Fear coursed through me, threatening to paralyze me in place.


    Venna’s eyes darted toward the shifting mass of black at the corridor entrance—the veil that was definitely alive, definitely terrifying, and definitely inching closer like it was tasting the air for me.


    She looked back at me, that flickering ethereal glow around her beginning to dim. “It’s too late.”


    “What do you mean it’s too late?” I rasped, my voice still shredded from smoke and fire and existential dread.


    “I mean, I can’t hold it back. Even possessing it for a moment will cost me more than I anticipated. That… that thing isn’t just any shrowder—it’s a Shadowless. A being devoid of all light. Something that shouldn’t be, let alone be here. Who would have thought Rajek would part with one for so long.”


    “Cool, great, love that for me,” I said, mostly to keep from screaming.


    Venna''s expression turned grim, calculating. “There’s only one hope left. The Tomb Lord’s actual tomb—it’s not far. Just a few chambers from here, deeper underground. It won’t be able to enter immediately.”


    “Because… respect for the dead?” I asked, half-sarcastic, half-hoping.


    “No, because of a barrier,” she rolled her eyes.


    “Of course,” I panic chuckled.


    She gave me a ghost of a smile. "Inside the tomb is one of Kaelen Grave’s relics—his cloak," Venna said, her voice soft but edged with urgency. "It was handwoven by the Weavers of Nareth, using fibers spun from the silk glands of Gravemoths—creatures that only nest in the hollows of ancient burial trees whose branches connect to the land of the dead. The lining was stitched with threads soaked in embalming oils drawn from the Pools of Silence, and its binding seals were forged from the depths of Kaelen himself—his life essence, his power, imbued into the very fabric of the cloak.


    I stared at her like she’d just recited what sounded like a grocery list of nightmares.


    “So it’s a cloak made from grave bugs, dead tree juice, and a dead guy’s mojo?”


    “Essentially.”


    I swallowed hard. “And if I can’t?”


    “Then I hope you’re fast at dying twice.”


    “Comforting.”


    She stepped toward me, glowing fingers brushing my arm. “You must go now. I’ll try to delay the creature just long enough for you to reach the chamber. Trust the cloak. It’s not just fabric—it’s part of him.”


    I took a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever was to come. "Okay, Venna. I''ll try."


    She nodded, her eyes filled with determination and, dare I say it, hope. "I’ll possess it. But it will only hold for a few seconds, Toni. You’ll need to run past it. Don’t look back. Keep running. Three rooms ahead, two rooms to the right.”


    I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest.


    The atmosphere was heavy with unease as I cast a final glance at Venna. Her ethereal silhouette shone with an intensity that both captivated and unsettled me, as she readied herself to inhabit the shrowder. This creature exuded an aura that my fragmented thoughts struggled to comprehend, yet every instinct screamed of its inherent "wrongness." My heart wavered between the need to run and my overwhelming fear that kept me rooted in place.


    The veil of darkness rippled like a living thing, crawling closer as the temperature dropped. Every part of my body screamed to move, but I couldn’t. Not yet. Not until Venna said the word.


    “Go!” she shouted, and then her form blurred—torn forward with unnatural speed, streaking toward the corridor’s entrance like a comet made of ghostlight.


    The creature—no, the Shadowless—roared. That was the only word I had for the sound—it was like the earth itself weeping in agony. The walls trembled. Bones rattled. The torchlight flickered as if afraid to stay lit.


    I bolted.


    My bare feet slapped against cold stone as I tore down the passageway. My lungs pumped on instinct, despite knowing I didn’t need to breathe anymore. Maybe it was just muscle memory. Or maybe it was terror.


    One chamber. Then another. I flew past broken statues and shattered urns, passed a half-collapsed hallway where skeletal hands reached out from beneath the rubble. I didn’t stop.


    Third chamber.


    I made the turn. Two doors to the right.


    The second door stood ajar—just barely—and behind it, a strange glow leaked through the crack. Not green like before. Not blue like the torches. Something in between.


    I skidded to a halt, yanked the heavy door open, and stumbled inside.


    This tomb was different.


    It was silent—not just quiet, but utterly devoid of sound, like the air itself refused to carry a whisper. A chill bit deep, gnawing at my skin like invisible teeth. My eyes were instantly drawn to the center of the room.


    There, laid atop a stone bier, was a cloak.


    Not folded. Not draped. Just... hovering. Suspended an inch above the surface, swaying gently in an unseen breeze. Deep black, embroidered with runes that shimmered faintly like dying stars, the cloak seemed to absorb the light around it, swallowing it whole.


    It pulsed.


    Not metaphorically. It actually pulsed—as if it had a heartbeat.


    Text bloomed in my vision:


    [Legacy Relic Detected]: Shroud of Final Silence – Bound to Bearer of the Death Aspect


    I stepped closer. The cloak shifted slightly, as if... noticing me.


    [Passive Ability Gained]: Aura of Stillness – All hostile entities within 10 feet suffer reduced reaction speed and precision.


    [Passive Ability Gained]: Dreadmarked Presence – Death-aligned entities instinctively recognize your dominance. Lesser undead will defer. Intelligent ones must resist or obey. Living creatures experience unease and dread.


    [Active Ability Gained]: Fade Between – Once per day, become incorporeal for 30 seconds as you enter the realm of the dead. Immune to all damage. Can pass through solid matter.


    [Passive Effect]: Echo of the Tomb Lord – You bear the memory-thread of Kaelen Grave. Random insights, memories, and whispers may occur. XP gain for necromantic tasks increased.


    [Note]: Passive abilities may be toggled ON or OFF at user discretion.


    I reached out with a shaking hand and brushed my fingers against the cloak. It was cold. Cold like winter’s breath over a grave.


    The moment I touched it, the air shifted.


    The silence deepened. The room darkened. And the cloak curled up my arm like a serpent claiming its master.


    It fastened itself around my shoulders, stitching itself together with a whisper of wind.


    Just then, I heard the Shadowless screech again. Closer now. Too close.


    I turned to run—but something deep within me, something cold and quiet, knew I had another option now.


    The cloak pulsed against my back.


    A thought rose unbidden—whispered not in my ears, but somewhere more profound, like a breath inside my bones.


    Fade Between.


    I didn''t hesitate.


    My body turned cold and weightless, the world bending around me as my form dissolved into shadow and smoke. I surged forward, slipping through the stone wall as if it were mist.


    The last thing I saw before I passed through was the Shadowless crashing into the chamber, screeching in rage at the prize that had slipped from its grasp.