Warnings: possible dark themes, psychologically dark-ish? (apathetic) Harry, no magic, virtual reality gaming AU
Pairing: TMR/HP (Tom Marvolo Riddle/Harry Potter)
Summary: Voldemort was just supposed to be the bored necromancer who had a slightly creepy obsession with the undead. Scarred was just supposed to be a berserker-but things never quite work out that way.
For one, he isn't a berserker. He's a bishop. For two, he isn't just anything-he's the renegade High Priest of Gryffindor. For three, well... let's just say Voldemort's slightly creepy obsession wasn't on the undead anymore.
Glitches were so inconvenient.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter series - J.K. Rowling; this story was also inspired by Legendary Moonlight Sculptor by Nam Hee Sung, a korean light novel about a virtual reality game called Royal Road and a main character who wants to conquer it all (for money). You can read it at:
(Vol 1-20): royalroadweed(period)blogspot(period)co(period)il(slash)2014(slash)11(slash)toc(period)html
(Vol 21+, WIP): jawztranslations(period)blogspot(period)com(slash)p(slash)legendary-moonlight-sculptor(period)html
(Vol 23+, WIP): clickyclicktranslation(period)blogspot(period)com(slash)p(slash)blog-page(period)html
Also, 1/2 Prince by Yu Wo inspired this story too! A Chinese VR-MMORPG light novel (adapted as a manga as well) about a girl who plays as a handsome male elven warrior. Read it now at princerevolution(period)org! The manhua can be read at mangahere or mangafox, or probably any of your favorite manga reading sites.
Third shout-out of inspiration to The Gamer by Sung San-young, a manhwa/web comic about a main character who gains the ability to live life as a game character. Read it at mangahere, or probably any of your favorite manga reading websites.
Tom Riddle always had a… curious obsession with death.
It had started out mild. As a child, his interest had been inquisitive in nature. He'd seen death, and simply wondered—it had an effect on people, he noticed. He'd wondered if it was because the dead were gone, or if it was because the living didn't know where the dead had gone to. A bit of both, he found. And then he'd wondered why death was so untouchable that people feared it without ever doing a thing.
Perhaps he would have ended up like the rest of the population—or even worse, with a rather unhealthy fear of death instead of interest in it—but instead of staying in the orphanage he was born in he'd been adopted at a fairly young age. And the adoption only served to further progress his curiosity with death, because his guardian didn't seem scared of it at all, despite his age.
Albus Dumbledore had claimed death was simply "the next great adventure."
And so Tom had wondered.
He'd been both disconnected as well as bound to worldly matters at the same time. The idea of death—and what was beyond—called to him, but so too had the ever progressing problems of humans. He'd participated in their games and intrigue, their horridly fickle emotions, their strange variety of entertainment, their confessions and their lies and—yes. He'd been part of it. He'd almost drowned in it.
But at the same time, Tom had been pushed away. Because those who possess a curiosity towards death were those same who people feared. He learned this without fault. No matter how truly you participate in worldly interests, no matter how absolute and possessing the affairs of life seemed to be, the touch of death would linger upon those who allowed it, and others would surely sense the oddity and keep you at arm's length.
This was the manner Tom grew up in.
So it wasn't unexpected in the least when his profession turned out to be a funeral director. He'd dealt with people, perhaps disliked the majority he interacted with, but knew how to deal with them and how to act, how to feel genuine without handing over his heart, and always, always made sure he knew just what to say. As long as they didn't stick around longer than was considered professional, they wouldn't notice his otherworldly confidence and would only see a kind, empathetic gentleman.
Because even if people didn't know, their minds did—they sensed something…different about him, if they stayed around long enough. Quite frankly that left a very, very small handful of people who kept by him longer than absolutely necessary, and Tom supposed that meant, at the very least, he should consider them "friends." Anyone who could stay sane working in the business with all their wits about them—generally speaking, of course; who minded just a few screws loose?—was one thing, it was absolutely another to deal with Tom.
Outside the professional realm, he…wasn't the friendliest of people.
Not crass, not rude, no not snippy either, just… cold. Standoffish. Tom gave a bit less than people normally did, kept himself close and the distance between others wider. He could count the few who'd bypassed his carefully dug moat on one hand, and those still alive—well, less than that.
Really what was it with old men and their irritatingly omniscient stares that softened him so?
Dear Tom,
To be honest with you, my boy, I'd never thought I'd live to see you grow up. I'm certain you thought the very same. How it came to pass that I did, in fact, stay long enough in this world to watch you become an adult, get a career, and make something of yourself, I don't know, but I must say I am awfully grateful for it.
There is a keen difference between knowing something and seeing it for your own eyes, after all. And if I had a tad bit more greed in me I'd wish to see you grow older still, until we could sit and laugh like old men together…
Yes, I am aware it would take something more than an extended life to get that wish, which is precisely why I shant wish for it.
All things aside, I do hope you wish me well in my next journey, for I will be joining Gellert now. And when I am with him, I will be sure to tell him just how you've grown, just how proud I am of you for becoming more than that little boy I saw in the orphanage that day. And certainly, he will be inclined to agree with me, I do believe.
He will say, softly so, that he misses you, that I will come to miss you as well, and that it is terribly unlikely that you will visit our graves any time soon, but so goes that stubborn self of yours—outside the realm of time, is it not?
…
I know you do not value entertainment as much more than a pleasant book to read with your favorite cup of tea, but it would comfort me much if, while I start my own new journey, you too take the steps towards yours. Take it as the words of an old, dying man if you must—just what I am, just what you hope to believe is all I am; this one knows you well, does he not?—but is it truly too much to ask, that I who am no longer able to see you and take delight in your growth, at least give you the seed to grow further while I am no longer with you?
Perhaps it is much to ask indeed…but still I shall hope.
With this letter I have given you means to retrieve my gift, of sorts. Thus it shall truly be your choice to receive, and you shant feel I've forced it upon you. The creator is an old friend of mine, and he knows how well I love you, how well both I and Gellert have and still love you, even to our last breaths, and so he offered.
Technology truly has improved in leaps and bounds, hasn't it? It is a wonderful thing, to see sprout the beginnings of a new frontier, and I think it would be an even more wondrous experience should you be exploring that frontier as well.
I am an old man. The journey of my youth is over, the journey of my older years is over, and now I breach to the beyond yet still, for the next great adventure…
I hope you might feel so inclined as to start your own as well, to commemorate such a glorious occasion.
With all my love and sincerest wishes,
Albus Dumbledore
He hadn't believed it when he'd gotten it. Of all things Dumbledore could've left him, a game? A virtual reality game no less! It might not have been the oddest gift he'd gotten from the man, but certainly the most…out of place. Then again, it was Dumbledore. That old geezer pulled surprises out of his hat like candy, which was every other hour considering the usual pack of lemon drops he had on him….
After thinking about it for awhile, Tom had accepted the fact that yes, Dumbledore was the type of person to do this and he shouldn't be surprised at all. What would've been unexpected instead would have been if the man gave him a gift that actually made sense. Like money. Or a piece of furniture. Both things, Tom didn't want nor need, so maybe the man's strange gift had worked out in the end.
Tom didn't want nor need a virtual reality game, but at least it was interesting.
So he tried it.
His username was Voldemort, race human, appearance as he was in real life. Some strange hat had appeared after he said he didn't particularly care where he ended up, and after one good look at him in an even stranger mirror, the hat's first words out of its mouth (to think, a hat with a mouth!) had been, "Oh for Merlin's sake—BETTER BE SLYTHERIN, and if that's not the perfect house for you, Fawkes might as well fire me from this job, literally!"
He'd been sent to the South into some Kingdom on the outskirts of the region, and ended up in a beginner town that had the ominous name of Malarum. Honestly, who names their town that? But Tom was amused by it enough to keep playing. He'd gone through his four weeks doing all sorts of work for the townspeople, keeping his ear to the wall just as well and hearing all the information that passed.
Malarum was situated in the cradle of a swamp, not like Nox Kingdom's capital Potestas Major which was placed to hide in their swamp, but more because there had been a previous civilization there, and Malarum took its place some three hundred years ago. Or so the story went, according to the locals. The land had looked a lot different three hundred years ago—still swamp-like, but less dreary and depressing.
Then after that the NPCs had gotten quiet on the subject. Tom hadn't pushed.
After his four weeks, Tom continued to do quests from the NPCs, specifically the newer that were now available with his recognition as a trustworthy player. Some were simple things, like finding an item or exterminating some pests, or gathering materials farther from town, but they rarely led to anything significant. Just experience points, really.
The only piece of information Tom had gotten legitimately from the quests came from the village's elder. He'd told Tom of a "good hunting spot" a fair but manageable distance off the outskirts of the town, hidden in the swampy foliage. According to the other beginner players, the old man told this piece of information to every user he met after the completion of one of his quests.
So the information wasn't very good.
Tom snooped around a bit more to find out why people weren't going there. Apparently the stench was horrible, and no one could stand training there for long even though it looked to be a good spot. Other players said it was creepy, and that even though they started in the South, expecting such places what with the rumor of Slytherin nobles practicing the Forbidden Dark Arts, there was no way that anyone could force them to spend their online gaming time in such an ominous place.
Their eyes showed Tom that the area certainly wasn't welcoming in appearance.
So, Tom snooped around even more. What types of monsters were there? What was their level range? Did it get higher?
Sadly, none of the answers were very satisfactory. Most people reached the spot and left. Those that stayed for a bit longer trained on the outside as they didn't want to get closer to where the stench was originating. No one had actually gone inside the cave to figure out what was there, and only noticed a few bones lying about the entrance.
On the outside there were your basic swamp monsters—slimes, frogs, things of that nature. None of it pointed anywhere to what the smell could be.
Tom wasn't phased in the least. He worked in a business that associated with the dead, and he'd had to smell his fair share of rotten flesh and the like that which no one else wanted to. Not to mention a numerous amounts of incense—eastern, western, from wherever. Just because he worked in the upper chains of command, managing and all that, didn't mean he'd never had to get down to the basics.
Someone had to get the embalmer. Someone had to call the morgue. Someone had to do this, and do that, and—
So Tom wasn't impeded by all of the players' stories at all.
He'd checked online, of course. While Witches and Wizards was new, it wasn't three days ago new. There had to be some type of information, especially since it was a beginner town. Surely the info wasn't worth so much that someone would conceal it.
It just figured that Tom would find the same things on the internet as he did in game. Though, from all the feedback, he'd managed to conclude that he landed in the worst beginner town possible. Too little traffic left the quests monotonous, no nearby training spots with amazing spawn rates, small, the list went on.
But Tom dealt with it. The information was mildly irritating, but he wouldn't let it set him back. He'd dedicated time to this already; there was no point in leaving it as it was now. Besides, the game was actually interesting. He hadn't played any virtual reality games previous to this one, so the experience was new and he could see how it could be enjoyable in the future.
So he'd gathered up his meager belongings, a few loaves of bread and a dagger, and went.
The first thing he noticed was that the smell, though unpleasant, was also somewhat… familiar. Either way Tom had long learned how to mute the smells he didn't want to smell, so he didn't think much of it. On the outside there was indeed a good gathering of monsters, just because other players never really came back to hunt them after getting a breath of the horrid stench.
He trained at the entrance for awhile, reaching a level of ten before he entered the strange cave. While that meant he was just five levels away from a job advancement, Tom wasn't particularly interested in any of the basic classes. Mage, archer, rogue, warrior… They all sounded so boring.
Witches and Wizards had an odd job advancement system, from what Tom learned. There were four basic classes one could take at level 15. At level 30, these generic classes could be advanced again to a more specialized category. For example, warriors, after fulfilling certain other requirements, could go to a certain NPC and take the quest to become a knight. Mages could become priests, or an elemental wizard. The list went on.
These specialized classes were called "quest classes," and a player could not take on another class after obtaining one. Once a decision was made in regards to a class and the "Accept" button was pressed, it was usually unchangeable unless under special circumstances.
Usually, players did not want to reveal their quest class, because that would also reveal some of their weaknesses! There was no hiding your basic class—it was obvious if you were an archer, and obvious if you were a mage for example—but quest classes were numerous. It was difficult to figure out just by seeing equipment and weapons.
Quest classes were, however, different from something called "secret classes." From what Tom had found through casual research, secret classes did not need a basic class as a requirement. A player could become a secret (or hidden as the alternative name was for it) class at any level. They were also rare—often there were, as the name implied, secret requirements to find hidden classes that needed to be fulfilled before a player even got a system message, and most unreported were stumbled upon by mistake.
A common secret class was martial artist. An uncommon hidden class was paladin—though not because of any mystery. The requirements were simply notoriously difficult, consisting of earning a lot of upper level NPC favor and faith stat. Rarer, lesser known hidden classes included bestial tamer, necromancer, shaman and the like, which were rumored or seen but once, undiscovered or shrouded in mystery to most of the player base.
Hidden classes were known to be classes of great risk and great reward. Some of them were just all-around weak. Others had potential, but were found difficult to realize that potential. Others were extremely strong in capable hands, while others needed diligent time and care to succeed.
Players did not want to reveal their secret class either. If necessary, they often reported the basic class that their weapon could be identified with. Paladins would claim they were warriors, shamans as mages, hunters as archers, so on so forth. If specialization was important, they would state a skill or small phrase of what they could do. There were certain formats to it that Tom hadn't entirely learned yet, but he figured that he'd learn them as he went if they were necessary.
He couldn't really imagine himself partying with anyone in the future, but it was often necessary for hunting at higher levels. Not to mention, he didn't even choose a class yet. Tom figured he would just go with the flow until he saw something interesting.
From doing a little reading online, Tom figured out exactly what stat points did and how best to distribute them. However, he didn't want to use them yet, even though he'd been getting five per level since leveling to level two. Tom had nine times five—so, 45—unused stat points, ready to be distributed whenever he figured out what he wanted to be.
Currently, his stats looked like this:
Name: Voldemort ~ Level: 10
Faction: Slytherin ~ Class: None
Title: None ~ Fame: 0
Health: 350 ~ Mana: 100
Strength: 10 ~ Stamina: 10
Intellect: 10 ~ Wisdom: 10
Luck: 10 ~ Agility: 10 (+1)
Attack: 0 (+3) ~ Defense: 0 (+4)
Fullness: 90 ~ Fatigue: 10
The three attack was from his dagger, and the four in defense was from his thin tunic, cotton pants, peasant gloves, and, of course, newbie boots, which also gave him his one point in agility.
Because the area he was in now was no longer profitable experience-wise, Tom decided to go further toward the strange stench. In the end, he reached the entrance of an indiscriminate cave—more wide than it was tall. He had to duck to swing his body under the cave ceiling. However, upon actually entering, the ceiling grew taller and he had enough space to stand at his full height and some.
Tom looked around. Certainly, the smell was stronger here. But where was it coming from? He wasn't at the source yet, was he?
Something dying, Tom thought, or something already dead.
It was a strike of recognition! Tom decided to continue more carefully. There was something strange in the air, and he did not know if it was a monster or an item but it was more than likely a monster, from what he'd read online.
There was a shift of movement to his left. The player instantly turned toward it.
At first, Tom didn't recognize anything. It was dim in the cave, since the opening wasn't exactly a gaping hole, and what he was looking for was one of the monsters outside that had gotten in the cave. His assumptions were quickly proven wrong. From the wall of the cave behind a rather large rock formation, a dirty white somethingshifted and crawled out.
Tom squinted. And then he saw it in its full entirety.
It was a skeleton!
The skull turned to face him directly, its eye sockets unseeing but looking at him at the same time, and then it began to move towards him.
Very slowly.
Tom, who had tensed in preparation, realized he was in no immediate threat. In fact, it took a good thirty seconds for the skeleton to get halfway toward him! It was a joke. Tom stared.
Then, the player moved around, giving the skeleton a wide berth while doing so, to get behind the monster. It tried to turn and follow his movement, but Tom, who was moving at a normal pace, proved too fast still. Tom got behind the skeleton, and then in one smooth movement grabbed its spine and yanked.
The upper body fell, severed. However, since the lower body was still upright, Tom kicked it over and then stomped on the bones.
"Not bad experience," he said, checking what he'd gotten for the kill. "Not bad at all."
An unconventional way to kill an undead monster! The skeleton was actually very life-like. Most players would freeze up at the sight of their first undead because of the realism! However, Tom was not perturbed. In university, he had taken his fair share of physiology, biology, and anatomy classes. Dissection was not new to him in the least, and neither was seeing a real skeleton.
Most players would also fight the skeleton using whatever weapon they had! The undead stank of rot and, of course, death—no one wanted to touch one. But Tom again was not perturbed. Instead of fighting the monster face to face with his tiny dagger, he instead used his hands to yank out the spine and thus land a critical hit.
It was a lot more effective to take apart the skeleton than try to cut its bones with a small blade. Tom, satisfied with how simple the hunting would be, continued on into the cave methodically. Whenever the path forked, he would continue until he found a dead-end and then cycle back to go the other route. The skeleton mobs steadily grew, but so did his experience fighting them.
You have learned a new skill:
Undead Mastery Beginner Level 1 (0%): Your understanding of undead monsters can greatly help in combat.
Passive: Damage to undead increases with skill level as well as level difference between yourself and the undead monster.
Additional effects involving the undead will be added as Undead Mastery skill level increases.
And, because Tom was using his bare hands to rip at the monsters, his stats increased by a few points as well!
You struck a critical hit through meticulous use of force. Strength and Wisdom have increased by 1.
…
From ceaseless battle, Stamina has increased by 1.
…
Because of your endless battle inside of a cave, your eyes can see clearer in the dark. Intellect has increased by 1.
…
He'd also gotten an interesting message after pulling apart a skeleton and trying to interchange its bones with another undead.
You have created a new stat: Taint of the Dead.
As much as Tom wanted to log off and research it, he knew he could do that later as well. Besides, it seemed like he was unable to put any of his stat points in it—curious, that—so for such a reason, he unhesitatingly put it off!
By the time Tom felt he had thoroughly explored the cave, he was level 20 with 95 unused stat points. Taint of the Dead had also increased by several points on its own. His Undead Mastery skill had leveled up several times as well—all the way to Beginner Level 5!—which was an enormous help because Tom's stats were technically still those of a completely new player. Undead Mastery boosted his damage a considerable amount within the cave, so much so that Tom didn't even need to rip out the spine in order to kill the skeletons.
He could twist off the head. Snap off a leg. Break the neck. All in all, it was a very useful skill, and without it Tom doubted he would have had the self-restraint to continue training without using his stat points!
The one major problem a player would have hunting inside these caves was how big the mobs could grow. Tom was very comfortable with killing skeletons already, so it wasn't that bad, but for those who try to kill the undead monsters with their daggers, or with ineffective punches and kicks, it would take many more hits and by that time, the skeletons would've noticed the battle and come to swarm.
They didn't deal very much damage individually, but when one is surrounded by skeletons, it certainly adds up! Tom had a few close calls when he forgot to be careful, but overall the grind was not particularly taxing.
Tom finally decided to rest. He needed to start seriously considering his stat points—he couldn't stay within the cave forever, nor exclusively hunt undead monsters because he didn't know where they were…never mind if he could even get to them. If he was fighting anything else, he would almost certainly die regardless of if the monster in question was the same level as him. Levels meant nothing if he didn't invest his stat points.
But the issue of his class remained. Tom did not know what he wanted to be; he didn't favor a particular class nor disdain a certain one. All of them had their pros and cons.
Warriors would run the risk of being overwhelmed during solo play. Mages and archers were frail. Rogues were similarly weak in defense, and were not designed for dealing with mobs either—they were best at dealing general damage to bosses as assassins. There were, of course, the special hidden classes, but where was Tom going to find one of those? He certainly wasn't just going to waltz across one this early in the game…
Tom's musing was set aside when he noticed a niche in a dead end that he had not seen before. He approached it, and seeing that it led into another section of the cave that he hadn't gone into before, went in.
There was a pool of water inside the cavern, as well as an old wooden boat sloppily tied to a stalagmite. Tom looked across the water toward the tiny island of rocks at its center. There appeared to be something there, though what he couldn't exactly make out. Whatever it was sat upon an odd looking rock formation…actually, the rock almost seemed to form a chair. No, not a chair…it was too large to just be a chair. Perhaps a throne?
And sitting on the seat of that was a pile of something white. Bones…they had to be bones, Tom thought while squinting.
How strange.
He looked inside the boat. There was a single paddle there, rotting but still useable, and seeing that there was no water at the bottom of the boat, Tom decided to assume there weren't any holes he'd have to worry about either. If he chose to sail it, that is.
…Who was he kidding; something like this screamed quest, and he was bored of picking apart skeletons.
Tom got on the boat and made his way across.
You feel an ominous chill.
The player blinked, but continued on. Quest, or boss monster? Probably the former.
About three quarters the way there, Tom got another message.
Your boat has sprung a leak. Proceed?
That was…odd. Tom frowned as he looked at the slightly transparent message box in front of him. It would've been completely normal had it not been for that last word—Proceed. There were two buttons at the bottom, the left a green one with the word "YES" on it and the right one a red option with the word "NO".
Why did he have a choice? If he pressed "NO", would it send him back to shore? Tom's hand hovered over the bright stop-sign red before suddenly moving over and pressing "YES" instead.
If the boat was leaking, that meant he would likely not be able to cross again. It would be too cautious to choose "NO"—Tom did not have any valuables on him; only a bunch of skeleton bones and some bread left to eat. The worst that could happen to him was death, and even then death meant little to a new player. It would be different if he had any rare equips, but because he didn't, "YES" was about as safe as "NO", and the former had a higher chance of giving him a reward.
So "YES" it was.
Tom began to paddle again. He could feel the water around his shoes; thankfully he was wearing boots so they wouldn't be soaked through all the way, but they weren't of a high enough quality to keep his feet completely dry. By the time Tom reached the small island, he knew he had to abandon the boat. He jumped off right in time.
Your boat is full of water.
Your boat has sunk.
White, spindly bones rose from the water's depths. The hands grabbed at the wood, poor in power but mighty in numbers. Tom could make out skulls under the water, empty sockets staring into nothingness as they dragged the boat down, down, down. A horrifying event, to know that if he had not gotten out of the boat, they would've dragged him along with it! Tom turned away when the skeletons retreated into their murky sanctuary.
Yes. There were more important things to deal with—like the pile of bones atop the rock throne.
You feel an ominous chill.
You are paralyzed by fear.
"Closer," the word pulsed in the air. "Closer, he who can resist. He who can stand. If you can come closer, I will acknowledge your potential."
Tom tried. He genuinely did try to move—whether that was to turn around and runrunrun gettheHELLoutofhere or to move forward, he didn't know. Either way, he found his legs numb, pricked on every square centimeter of his skin with needles, weighed down by shackles of enormous weight. Tom tried to move his hands. Only his fingers twitched.
"Hm…Then you are not the one I seek…You are not he who is destined to succeed me…"
Tom sneered. "Are you saying I'm weak?"
"The weakest to have ever come here," the voice said, amused. "Foolish, foolish adventurer, to venture here so woefully untrained and unprepared. You are not even strong enough to know my name—to know who I am! I will let you leave with your life, but only this once, as I pity you and your misfortune."
Tom withheld a snarl at the insult. He openly acknowledged he was weak within the game's context—95 unused stat points!—but did whoever the voice was have to be so condescending? That pissed him off!
"I've ripped skeletons more put together than you to pieces," Tom snapped. "What are you but a pile of bones? Isn't that right? You're the one sitting on the rocks, aren't you?"
"How astute of you…" The skeleton's head shook, and then its jaw fell and rose as the teeth clattered together in a mocking form of a laugh. "But you still cannot move."
"Of course I can," Tom replied immediately. "This is a game. This fear isn't real. I'm not truly paralyzed, just like you truly don't exist. I can move."
The skeleton ignored all of that except Tom's last claim. "Then come closer, if you can. Come closer, and I will acknowledge your potential."
Tom glared. He was still paralyzed by fear. How was one supposed to overcome an irrational, fake sensation of fear? Logically he understood it for what it was. Emotionally, on the other hand…
Why was he so scared in the first place? Was it because…because—
There was a sensation in the air. What was it, Tom didn't know, or at least couldn't put a name on it. But it was big and overwhelming and invisible; the worst sort of enemy of all, especially when it seemed intent on suffocating him. Fear. What an ugly feeling. Tom never liked fear—it had its uses, but more often than not it was being a nuisance to him. Tom knew how to suppress real life fear—to dissuade its manifestation in the first place.
Ergo, to dismantle the foundation of the fear by replacing it with logical thought and reasonable fact.
…But he tried that, didn't he?
No. Not in the context of the game. And the game was what he had to reason with—so, what could he say to combat this irrational fear? What could he do in order to overcome the paralysis?
Tom tried to move again. He remembered the skulls in the water, the boney hands and arms that reached up above the surface and grappled with the boat's wood. He remembered them pulling it down, down into the depths where he could not see, and wondered if there was an army lying in weight there in the water. Perhaps not so irrational after all.
But he knew death, knew the anatomy of the human body like the back of his hand. Tom knew through science and study and logic what 'death' was, and so the undead—
The undead had power unlike those of the living. However, just the same, because they were not living, they suffered consequences by their existing in a realm not meant for them. Bones brittle with time and weakness, sluggish movements unfit for hunting, individually weak. Their only advantage was resilience—if taken apart, they could put themselves back together again. Continue to rise. Form a mob. Eventually overcome using sheer numbers alone.
The undead were not dead. They could not fully harness the power that came to those who were truly not of this plane—such as ghosts, for example, if one was to assume ghosts did indeed exist in the game. In that case, then, what did he have to fear? A pile of bones, an army of undead skeletons lying beneath the lake?
These were weak undead though. Tom saw. They could live in the most hostile environments, survive the harshest weather and lie in wait for the longest times, but in the end as long as he was in the realm of the living—
Your understanding of the undead has increased.
Because of your knowledge in Undead Mastery, you manage to fight off the paralysis.
Tom took a step forward. One foot, then the other. One arm, and then the other…until he was standing right in front of the throne.
"Close enough for you?" he asked.
The skull's jaw rattled again. "He who can resist. He who can stand before me. He who knows but cannot see…Would you like eyes? Eyes to see what you know but cannot yet decipher. Eyes that see what has always rested unseen. Would you like to see me, he who can stand?"
"My eyes are fine," Tom replied carefully. "I can see you as you are; a mere pile of bones!"
The skull laughed. "An interesting answer, he who resists! Yes, you are worthy of them—you are worthy of not only the ability, but my eyes. You who are mortal, exists as one who is not. My men fear you, they quiver at your arrival, and for they who do not feel fear to know it…You have potential. The disposition of he who shall stand above all others—the undead or the living, it matters not. I shall give you my eyes, but first…"
It was all terribly ominous. Tom, while interested, did not especially want an undead's eyes—specifically because they didn't have any! He assumed then that 'eyes' was a symbol for something else; perhaps their sort of sight? When Tom was fighting skeletons, he noticed they did not see him normally. They could be staring right at him but not see him.
One could say that that in itself is a display of blindness, but Tom also saw examples of sight. Skeletons walked around obstacles, and when he threw a rock, their heads followed the projectile before the sound of it hitting the ground could be heard.
While fairly interesting, Tom did not want this for himself! It seemed like a handicap more than anything! The undead's brand of sight would most certainly be a downgrade!
"Thank you for the offer, but I'm afraid I'll have to decline," the player hurried to say, but it was too late.
The skull laughed. "It wasn't an offer, he who stands. Now, die."
You feel an ominous chill.
By the time Tom had gotten the message, boney wet hands had already grabbed his ankles and legs, pulling him into the water below. Fully submerged, they gripped at his throat until the air he'd taken in by surprise left completely in bubbles, floating to the surface he didn't think he'd see again.
Death came quickly, then.
Name: Voldemort ~ Level: 20
Faction: Slytherin ~ Class: None
Title: None ~ Fame: 0
Health: 700 ~ Mana: 100
Strength: 11 ~ Stamina: 11
Intellect: 11 ~ Wisdom: 11
Luck: 10 ~ Agility: 10 (+1)
Taint of the Dead: 4
Attack: 0 (+3) ~ Defense: 0 (+4)
Fullness: 70 ~ Fatigue: 25
Current Skills: Undead Mastery (Beg. lv 5)
Arguably less than what Harry had, but what can you expect when Tom hoards his stat points?
Anyway, this chapter is comparably short (considering the last one was a beast) but I figured there was a decent amount of back story and a good start to Tom's job advancement arc to make it worth it. Again, I don't think Tom's job advancement will be as long as Harry's but it will get the ball rolling, and Tom has as much potential as Harry to turn out pretty OP. haha
Thanks for all your lovely words and support guys *_* ahhh it means so much to me that you like my work!
Sincerely,
R.R.