《Reincarnated into a Zombie Apocalypse Trying to Rebuild a Harem as a Zombie》 Entry 001: Is It Wrong to Pick Up Girls in the Zombie Apocalypse? "Brains!" Out from the sea of walking dead a flaxen-haired, wiry youth ran. "Brains! BRAINS!" The youth sprinted down the derelict road, leaping over the occasional dead-dead corpse, and dived behind a heap of ruined cars-turned-barricade. He barely got into a crouch before a fresher body turned toward him and grabbed his arm. "Brains," the body said, "check it, a group of survivors! And over there on the right¡ªI think that girl''s kinda cute, don''t you?" "Not so loud," hissed Brains. "I nearly busted my ankles getting over here in time to stop you screaming your head off and scaring her off," he said, taking a pair of binoculars and a data-slate from his satchel. "Girls love a guy who has serious lung capacity and isn''t afraid to use it, man,¡± drawled Jack, and took the binoculars. ¡°This is, like, picking-up-girls one-oh-one." Jack peered and appraised. A grin spread across his face. ¡°I was right. She¡¯s as cute as can be.¡± He chucked. ¡°Oh man, this is wild. You gotta take a look, do your nerd magic with your iTablet or whatever.¡± The 5 survivors were apparently unaware of them, too busy breaking into a pharmacy 30 meters down the street. Brains missed the first one to enter¡ªguy in a dark coat with an oversize, black sword¡ªbut he scanned the rest. No guns on them. Not being waved around, anyway. He zeroed in on the girl in question: She wore a gray and dark-red school uniform, knee-socks and all, and her red hair was done up in twin tails, shining in the sunlight like bundles of copper strands. Brains frowned, and thumbed through data-slate entries. Shining hair? How do you get that going in the apocalypse? How did you get that but not a gun? The obvious answer of the scenic Capitol River came to him in acid green. Maybe so, but who would even bother to loot hair conditioner? "Exactly, no one else. All the more for her," said Jack, making finger pistols. "I''m sorry, what?" "I said, shame she didn''t bring her sister. Or anyone else female. Or, hell, even anyone else in a skirt. But you know what that means? Exactly, no one else. All the more for her." Jack doubled his finger pistol recoil and added sound effects. "Pe-pew, pe-pew." Brains sighed, lowered the binoculars, and smiled. "It''s all clear, and it looks like the girl is the lone lookout. Come on, let''s go. We have the perfect opportunity go up and talk to her." "Show time, dude." Jack clapped him on the back and jerked a thumb over, then jumped up and went into the quietest full sprint he could manage. Brains stared wide-eyed for a moment, his over-intricate engagement strategy dead on his lips, and scrambled after him in an internal panic. Jack had chosen his time to match the girl patrolling the other way. He slowed into a swagger just a few meters away as the girl turned back around. With a smile, he waved a hand, the other casually in his pocket. "Yo, beautiful, come here often?" [Achievement get! Icebreaker] [You gain 1 rank in Skill:Seduction] A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. The girl jumped back with a yelp. Her heel caught the curb and she stumbled farther backward, flailing her arms with surprised squeaks, letting go of her baton in the affair. Jack boldly strode forward and reached out his hand to catch the spinning baton. [Dexterity check failed] The baton smacked into his thumb and spun off onto the ground, then rolled into a storm drain. Jack coughed into his fist, and decided he never saw any baton just then. He glanced behind¡ªBrains was agitatedly gesturing at him and down past him. Jack turned back, following the waves, jabs, and motions he could only describe as "conjuring," and saw the girl on her back, facing away from him. As such he was looking up her skirt. Jack paused. And paused. "Hmm." Jack paused and made noises of befuddled acknowledgment for a few more moments, then politely looked away. Only slightly looking from the corner of his eye¡ªmerely to know when she got back up, he rationalized. Checkered. [Your morality has degraded: Your shamelessness is a shadow on your soul] "What are you doing, you idiot?" Brains said quietly, coming to a halt beside him. "She fell because of you, and you just stand there looming? Apologize, you wad." "Heh, sorry, man." "Not to me, to her!" Brains slapped his forehead. "Cool it, I was doing both . . ." Jack approached the girl, who had nearly snapped out of her concrete-induced daze, and extended a hand. Before he could more than open his mouth, she bolted upright and backpedaled, a hand in her jacket. She said something, demanded something, maybe, but Jack did not understand a word. [You lack the perk Zombie¨CHuman Communication] "Eh? What was that?" Jack took a step closer. She said something again, seemingly repeat herself¡ªlouder and harsher now. She drew her arms closer. [You lack the perk Zombie¨CHuman Communication] Jack took another step forward. From the pharmacy came a crash, then yelling. Brains sidled over, knees bent in a slight crouch and eying the gloomy interior intently. Another crash came and the yelling began moving away. Brains nodded to himself, and gave Jack a thumbs-up. Good. The girl barked at Jack¡ªliterally barked¡ªand when he turned to face her again he instead found the barrels of a sawed-off shotgun. He sucked in an unneeded breath through his teeth. "Don''t shoot me," Jack said simply. [You lack the perk Zombie¨CHuman Communication] He was then shot twice, and crumpled to the ground in a heap. [Achievement get! Ain¡¯t That a Kick in the Head?] [You gain 2 ranks in Skill:Piercing Resistance] [You gain 2 ranks in Skill:Impact Resistance] [You gain 2 ranks in Skill:Toughness] [You gain 1 rank in Skill:Lead Poisoning Tolerance] [URGENT WARNING: THE MAIN HERO IS CRITICALLY INJURED] Entry 002: Do You Know What Makes a Hero? It was a race for who could move first: Brains or the girl. It was the worst kind of race for her, the one where you are run for your life while the competition runs to the buddy you just shot. It invariably looked bad on paper and in retrospect. Brains barely registered the girl turned tail and ran into the pharmacy after the departing yells. The door had not even shut and Brains was at Jack''s side. He slid the last meter on his knees. "Jack! Jack, talk to me!" He took him up by the shoulders, winced at the fleshy ruin that used to be a face. "Getting shot in face sucks," said Jack, remarkably eloquent for his state. "Though it sucks less as a zombie. Key word being ''less.'' This sucks." Brains'' immediate reaction started with snorting and ended somewhere between laughing and sobbing. "Why didn''t you tell me you were bulletproof?! Jack, you complete, utter wad!" "Not bulletproof, bullet resistant." He chuckled bloodily. "Little joke I made there. You won''t get it now, but you will . . . very soon." Brains shook his head. "No, I won''t. This isn''t going to end like that¡ªI refuse. There has to be something I can fix you up with." He turned to once more empty pharmacy. "Like in there." "You''re free to try," said Jack, letting himself be pulled upright. "Just in case though, I''ll do one of those cool final speeches they always do in the movies." "Yeah, but only you won''t die at the end. . . . Right?" Jack was silent. They walked, staggered, shoulder under shoulder, blood soaking the pair of them. Jack felt a black nostalgia; the residues of heated arguments under thick sheets of rain, of a turbulent lifetime of playing the hero, of always running into a bigger villain. Died like I lived, redeaded like I unlived.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. "I think you know most of this, Brains," said Jack; "You can have my stuff, I don''t care where my body goes, delete my browsing history if only you could¡ªthe usual. But that''s all junk in the end . . ." Jack tilted his head back as if to look at the sky. "Do you know what makes a hero?" Brains, head down, kept trudging. "I don''t know, dashing and bravery? Selflessness and nobility or something?" "Babes. Babes make the hero. Have you ever seen one without a girl or two or five hugging his arms or legs when he is like hefting a sword or gunning down demons or door-to-door salesmen or freaky monster aliens? You haven''t. Save the day, get the girl, man. Basically the same thing." "You''re rambling." The pharmacy interior was unsurprisingly bare and decayed. Shelves were thrown over with gashes and dents, glass cases smashed and looted, and skeletons lay under gently blinking emergency lights. The two friends advanced with steps that crunched on myriad scattered pieces. Had they not been through worse they would have preferred lying out in the street. That was at least cleaned by rain. Jack patted Brains and lowered himself on one of the frayed seats. "I want you to carry my legacy, Brains," said Jack suddenly. "We''ll deal with that if it comes to that." Brains stood up and took a few cursory turns, then frowned. "Damn, there''s nothing here." "Try upstairs . . . ''s a door behind the counter. . . . Could be . . . a pretty nurse, haha." Brains walked over to the counter and vaulted over. The door was steel with an electronic lock instead of a handle. Keypad. Unworn, unlike the door. Brains guessed the door was supposed to automatically lock and unlock, and the keypad was a backup. He took out his data-slate, popped open the back, and drew out a flat cable and tagged it into the keypad''s access slot. Brains fumbled through the menus whose language he could not decypher. Despite the barrier, the door opened easily; likely it was never locked, only closed. He shrugged. "A victory''s a victory," he muttered. Jack laughed weakly, his single eye closed. He made a slight wave. "Surely . . . there is at least one . . . elven princess in this city . . . with a cute bodyguard too," he said, and died. [SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT: THE MAIN HERO "JACK" HAS DIED] [SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT: THE STATUS OF MAIN HERO HAS BEEN TRANSFERRED] [SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT: THE MAIN HERO IS NOW "BRAINS"] Entry 003: Baberunner, Part 1 [Congratulations! You are now the Main Hero!]
Name Brains
Level 27
Type Revenant (Zombie)
Class Love Guru
STAMP Summary
Spiritual Magnificent
Technical Great
Aethereal Bad
Mental Good
Physical Poor
[Primary objective: Stop the demon lord] [Override, primary objective: Pick up girls] [Secondary objective: Stop the demon lord] Brains stood still, incredibly still. He stood still like standing was an Olympic sport and the main still-stander had suffered spontaneous broken legs syndrome out in the parking lot and he was the reserve. He did not move very much while also upright, is the point. [Achievement get! This Line is Not Moving Very Fast, is It?] He blinked, as if trying to wipe away the glowing text in the corner of his vision. He was overwhelmed with information. ". . . error . . . contact . . ." The data-slate had suddenly turned on its speaker. ". . . error . . . ghost . . . contact . . . notice." The monotone simulvoice became more understandable to Brains with each repetition. Brains slowly, absentmindedly reached over and pressed through the alert. It sounded out a final time: "Fatal error: machine ghost conglomerated. Contact your local Voc outlet on short notice." Then all was quiet. Brains considered what came next, then Jack''s wishes. He did not know where to start, but he eventually settled on finding a nicer resting place for Jack upstairs. "Useful objectives," Brains muttered bitterly. He shook his head, turned, and went up the stairs. Past a second, wooden door at the top, there was a small apartment. It was surprisingly, almost impossibly clean yet strewn with half-built computers, drones, toasters, and a dozen more of their kind of all sizes¡ªelectronics haphazardly attached to every one. Brains halfheartedly picked through piles. Whomever had lived here was enthusiastic but frighteningly incompetent when it came to tinkering. Almost none of the things would ever work, even in theory, and those that did likely would fry or catch fire. Brains brightened a bit when he found a gaming console, and was immediately disappointed when the top opened to reveal a waffle press. Excellent craftsmanship, though. Evidently a terrible idea also; parts of the plastic were melted onto the plate.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Brains sighed, and fished out his data-slate again. A red light was on. He had two notifications. It beeped and stated: "Seven minutes ago: Translation ''Zombie'' compiled." Brains eyebrows raised. He had not realized it when he read Notification(s): 2. "Five minutes ago: Small, faint power source nearby, likely mobile." His eyebrows shot up all the way. "What, a power source?" he blurted. "Power source type unknown," the data-slate unexpectedly replied. Though obvious¡ªin hindsight¡ªonce he noticed the microphone was on. "Where is it?" "Invalid input." Brains sighed. Backward, discount Siri. "Where is the power source?" "Left, four meters." Brains turned and found a closet. It was virtually barricaded by junk. One good kick later and he opened the closet. Inside the closet, and wearing a maid uniform, was a young woman staring directly at him. Brains, to his credit, did not scream like a little girl and run away. Instead he subvocalized something that sounded like a cat made it and took a step back. The woman did not move. If standing still were an Olympic sport, she''d take gold. "H-Hello? Are you OK?" No reply. Brains, in lieu of where he would usually ask Jack, turned to his data-slate and asked, "Is she OK?" The data-slate buzzed, its camera focused, then replied: "Pleasant words of caution: Referring to an inanimate object as she can be a sign of mental illness, social isolation, or severe inebriation. Please review your actions." He grimaced in annoyance. "I''ll work on it. Now, is she OK?" "Unit is overall functional; killswitch damaged. Conclusion, 78% probable: unit suffered a machine ghost conglomeration, which then reached dangerously close to realness after being left uncorrected." "She is a machine?" "Machines are not people and are not referred to with people pronouns. This is the third time you have done so. Please seek professional treatment from either: a psychologist; a therapist; a counselor; a linguist; a speech coach; or an optometrist." "Shut up about that." Brains rapped the data-slate. "If she . . . if the unit is functional, can I flip an ''on'' switch or something?" "The unit may be reactivated, but that is ill-advised, as it would likely realize a machine spirit shortly after." Brains considered the consequences for a moment, realized he did not care or know what anything around him did, and said, "I know what I''m doing. Reactivate the unit." The data-slate buzzed. "Humanoid machines usually have the access slot on the back, often in the spine." The closet was too small to really maneuver the robo-maid. Brains awkwardly grabbed its sides and pulled it out. It was lighter than it looked, and oddly lukewarm. He spun it around. He waved the data-slate and thus its camera in circles. "Where''s the slot?" "Upper spine, between the cervical spine and thoracic spine, 51% probable." "I can''t see it," he said "It lies under the synth-skin. Make an incision." Brains stopped, frowned, then shrugged. "With what?" "A sharp implement." "I think I can begin to see why your previous owner is dead." Brains decided he stopped caring, and grabbed a toaster with jagged edges and threw it against the wall. He snatched a decently sized chuck. Then began his crude attempts at surgery. On fifth try he overcame the problem of making the cut properly and in the right place sheerly by virtue of scraping. [You gain 1 rank in Skill:Ghetto Surgery] Once more he took the flat cable from the data-slate. With his sleeve wiped off the access slot and popped off its cover. He clicked in the cable, and feverishly flew through data-slate menus. It was laughably easy now that he could understand what it all meant¡ªhe even effortlessly added the "Zombie" lexicon. He tapped one last key and look at the report: Voc Cybertech All-purpose Maid, Type A-6, S#1005667: Reclaiming preservation chemicals, reloading data into memory, reviving non-essential systems: 0% (Est. 3m) [Achievement get! It''s Alive!] [You gain 2 ranks in Skill:Technolizing] [You leveled up!]