Four months since I’d last been able to leave the house.
I was out of food.
The water wasn’t running either.
I was fucked.
If I stayed like this, I’d die.
I wanted to go out, but I was scared.
Standing at the crossroads between getting bitten by a zombie and becoming one, or starving to death, I thrashed around the house, making it abundantly clear that I didn’t want to choose either.
Maybe there was something?
Even now, I had two choices.
Conserve what little strength I had left and slowly waste away, or use up what strength remained to search the house.
I didn’t want to get bitten and have my flesh torn off. I didn’t want to slowly waste away either. So I searched the house. Very diligently, in every nook and cranny.
In the end, I didn’t find anything useful. The last thing I found was my grandfather’s keepsake box.
My parents died in an accident when I was little. I lived with my grandfather, just the two of us. He had been an archaeologist, and I grew up hearing all sorts of fascinating stories about excavation sites around the world. I miss you, Grandpa.
I was too young when my parents died. I was two or three, I think. Back when I didn’t even understand the concept of death, my parents suddenly vanished, and according to Grandpa, I cried looking for Mom, but I don’t remember.
When Grandpa died of pancreatic cancer in just six months, it felt like the whole world had collapsed. It felt as if the pillar that had been holding me up had disappeared. I couldn’t bring myself to do anything, so I quit what I’d been doing and shut myself inside the house.
Of course, I could have met people, grieved, cried, and found some release that way, but maybe because I was a man, I couldn’t show that side of myself. So I stayed alone. My friends contacted me, but I didn’t want to meet them.
Movies, anime, dramas, games—I did anything and everything I could to pull myself together.
Several months later, when I’d finally gotten my head on straight and thought maybe I should try doing something, maybe meet my friends, the zombie apocalypse began.
With Grandpa gone too, it felt like the world was just fucking me over.
Startled, I went outside and even tried going to places like convenience stores, and for the first few days, it was fine. I could still pay money and buy food. Exactly three days later, the convenience store owner had become a zombie, and when I went the next day, all the windows were smashed and everything had been looted.
The number of zombies on the streets gradually increased.
From a distance, I saw zombies tearing into some middle-aged man.
Seeing something from the movies in reality—the terror was real.
I can’t leave the house anyway. An unbelievable number of zombies have gathered around my place, and if I open the front door, I’ll be torn apart immediately.
When Grandpa’s mobility got worse before he was diagnosed with cancer, I thought it was nice that we moved to the first floor of an apartment building, but in a zombie apocalypse, the first floor of an apartment is basically, Welcome to the zombie field.
I don’t know how the neighboring units or the people upstairs are doing. They’ve either starved to death, or they’re holding out but won’t last long. Our apartment complex is already packed with zombies, so no one can get out.
There is no more food or drink left in the house.
The situation couldn’t possibly get any more fucked.
On my lap was a luxurious antique wooden box in an eighteenth-century style.
It looked like a treasure chest that might be sitting in the boss room of a fantasy game.
It wasn’t big. About the size of two Choco Pie boxes stacked together.
This box was probably something expensive Grandpa had acquired while traveling around for archaeology.
The keepsake box Grandpa left behind was all I had left.
After he passed away, it hurt too much, so I had never opened it even once.
I miss you, Grandpa.
I opened the box.
There were small statues inside. Miniatures of famous sculptures by ancient sculptors, or something like that.
Beneath them was a book.
A thick book.
It was probably written in some foreign language and I wouldn’t be able to read it anyway, but if Grandpa had put it in his keepsake box, it had to be valuable.
I placed the statues on the floor and took out the book.
A heavy book. A thick cover finished in leather. On the outside, it was bound with a leather strap so it couldn’t be opened.
I undid the leather strap and opened the book.
[Book of Ruin]
...Korean?
No.
There were some hieroglyphic-looking characters written there, so why was I reading them as Korean?
I turned the page.
[When the world has fallen to ruin, the one who opens this book shall obtain the authority of a hero.]
Before I could even comprehend the contents, the book began to glow.
The lights flickered. The computer turned on by itself.
The inside of the house repeatedly brightened and darkened.
The electricity should have been cut off ages ago, if it was going to be cut off at all.
Ah. It turned off again.
Beep—tarararan~
...But the computer alone turned on.
Holding the Book of Ruin, I approached the computer.
How was this possible?
Maybe I could get in one game before I died...
[One who has opened the Book of Ruin.]
[Create a character.]
Meaningless letters appeared on the monitor.
I rubbed my eyes, doubting what I was seeing, and then I realized that the book I was holding and the computer were connected by some strange energy. It looked like several transparent clotheslines had been strung through the space between the two objects.
...What the hell.
I stood the book up beside the monitor and sat down in the chair.
Click, click went the mouse.
Tap, tap, tap went the keyboard’s space bar.
Nothing worked?
“...What, what the...”
[Such a character does not exist.]
The message changed again.
[Take up the image of a hero.]
...The image of a hero...?
The statues I’d placed in my room.
Heavy miniature stone statues, clearly carved from marble. There were four in total.
All four looked like quadruplets wrapped head to toe in thick cloaks.
I brought them over, lined them up in front of the book, and it had said to take one up.
I picked one up in my hand.
“...I picked it up.”
[What kind of person are you?]
“...A college student.”
[What kind of person are you?]
“...A man.”
[What kind of person are you?]
Seeing the question appear repeatedly, that apparently wasn’t the answer it wanted.
“...A magician.”
[Your first hero has been decided as Nef Heka.]
...Nef Heka?
I said magician.
Huh?
The statue in my hand began carving itself away. Stone dust poured down in a shower.
Then it became the statue of a young male magician wearing a robe, holding a staff, and carrying a large bag with a long strap at his side.
Even as I looked at the stone dust spilled across my knees, I couldn’t believe it. Uh, I couldn’t even make a sound. Frozen in place, I looked down at the statue.
[Speak. Kheper.]
“...Kheper.”
[ 𓐍 𓇲 𓂋 ]
My words were converted into strange hieroglyphs.
The marble magician statue in my hand wriggled. It freed itself from my grasp and dropped to the floor with a thud.
It planted its hands on the floor and rose.
It walked forward.
It grew larger and larger.
Almost the same size as me—no, its skin color was gradually becoming flesh-colored, and it looked exactly like me.
It turned around and looked at me.
Our eyes met.
Its eyes shone white.
I am me.
I am a magician.
I am wearing a robe, and in one hand, I hold a long peony-wood staff.
I am standing and looking at myself.
The me sitting over there in the chair has his eyes closed in a relaxed posture.
“...This is insane.”
There were tattoos on both my arms.
Tattoos...?
Kind of like an interface?
Strange hieroglyphs were drawn there, but I immediately understood what they meant.
Left arm.
[Coin: 0]
[Health: 10]
[Mental Strength: 3]
“Coin” was how I understood it. The hieroglyph was 𓊹, netjer. Something sacred? Well, maybe it was experience points?
Right arm.
[Path of Sand]
That was how I understood 𓄿 𓎛 𓈐.
It was pronounced Seti Uat, but I didn’t think it mattered either way.
The me sitting in the chair looked comfortable. He was even smiling.
It was a very strange feeling. I was definitely this body, the magician, Nef Heka, but the sensation and weight of my back and hands felt as if I were sitting.
At the same time, I could feel the texture of the peony-wood staff in my hand.
Path of Sand was the magic I could use.
This body was...
It was my body, but it felt somehow different.
“...If I, if this body dies, what happens?”
[You return as a stone statue before your original body.]
...Ah.
So that was the difference.
In other words, even if I died in this body, I wouldn’t truly die. I’d return to this room, before myself sitting in the chair.
...Then was there any reason to hesitate?
Any reason to be afraid of zombies?
There wasn’t.
I was invincible.
I immediately flung the front door open and went outside. The zombies were right in front of me. Before they could enter the house, I shut the door at once. Bang!
Beep-beep, the remaining battery power locked the door.
“Uuuaaah—”
The zombies all turned toward me at once. They reached out their hands.
The first-floor corridor and the area beyond the wall were both swarming with zombies.
I wouldn’t die even if I died, right?
Then, well.
I thrust my staff toward the left side of the corridor.
“Path of Sand.”
The staff flashed. The zombies had already grabbed my shoulders and waist. It felt like I was being scratched? I could feel the sensation, but it didn’t hurt.
The light from the staff shone straight ahead like a flashlight.
It seemed like the magic had activated.
A dry crumbling sound came from my body.
It didn’t hurt at all.
It wasn’t agonizing either.
I had no problem moving.
So first, magic.
How? Ah, like that.
In an instant, the method of using it flowed into my head.
“...Mm.”
I planted the staff I was holding upright on the ground.
The moment its tip touched the floor, the staff’s light spread forward like a wave, turning every zombie into sand.
Heaps of sand collapsed, scattering with a dry rustle.
“...Whoa.”
[System: You have obtained 12 coins.]
My mental strength decreased by 1.
This time, behind me.
Ah, stop grabbing and clinging to me. Annoying.
The zombies were biting, clawing, and swarming all over me, making a complete mess of me.
I felt like I was going to fall over.
So, while taking one step back.
“Path of Sand.”
Light passed in a straight line like a wave, turning the zombies into sand.
[System: You have obtained 9 coins.]
I could figure out what coins were used for later.
The range was a bit disappointing. It seemed to go only about one meter wide and ten meters ahead of me.
But every zombie within that range was turned into sand.
This is fucking awesome. Fucking fun as hell.
I had 1 mental strength left.
I’d use up the last one and then, well, die or something.
Ah, the interface on my left arm.
[Health: 2]
...I only had 2 health left.
Come to think of it, my body.
It was torn and gouged open all over.
My stomach and waist had been ripped away in chunks too...
I had no organs. I was made of sand too. Sand was pouring down in clumps, huh?
The sand falling from me seemed to disappear before it touched the ground.
Ah.
The zombies came over the wall.
“Uuuaaah—”
“Path of Sand.”
[You have obtained 11 coins.]
[Mental strength has reached its limit.]
[You will vanish.]
My vision suddenly blurred.
My body was collapsing into sand.
I opened my eyes.
My house.
Me, sitting in the chair.
Oh...!
So this was how it worked.
Insane...!
Grandfather.
Grandpa... my grandpa.
Thank you. Giving me something like this...
A gift like this...
Even after he passed away, Grandpa took care of me again.