The Accidental Hero's Guide to Not Dying

The mahogany lid was surprisingly heavy, but not as heavy as the existential dread currently crushing Ryan’s chest. He pushed, the wood groaned, and a shower of expensive lilies cascaded onto his tuxedo.

"Bruh, is this for real?" Ryan wheezed, his lungs burning with the stale, metallic tang of the grave.

He shoved the lid off. It hit the floor of the funeral parlor with a deafening thud, shattering the somber, weeping silence of the room. Ryan sat up, gasping for air, his hair a bird’s nest of satin lining and cemetery dirt.

His best friend, Leo, dropped a decorative candle holder. It clattered across the marble floor like a gunshot. "Yo, what the actual... Ryan? You’re supposed to be ghostin’, fam. Why you pulling up like this?"

"Fam, I don’t know!" Ryan yelled, clutching his chest. "I was literally dead. Like, game over. Then I woke up and the air in there was straight trash. I’m lowkey starving, too. You got any snacks?"

The mourners didn't reach for sandwiches. They scrambled back, knocking over rows of chairs. A woman in the front row let out a shriek that sounded like a tea kettle hitting its limit.

"Get him!" the local Sheriff shouted, his face turning a shade of purple that clashed with his uniform. "That ain't Ryan! That's some necromancy-tier demon wearing his skin! Bury him again, boys!"

"Chill, Sheriff, it’s literally me!" Ryan stood up, wobbling on shaky legs. "I just took a long nap. Don't be extra."

"He's speaking the forbidden tongue of the dead!" an old man wailed, brandishing a crucifix like it was a tactical weapon. "The demon wants our snacks! Hide the appetizers!"

"Bruh, I don't want your appetizers, I want to not be buried alive!" Ryan stepped out of the casket, but his dress shoes caught on the edge of a stray gravestone monument waiting for assembly. He stumbled, arms flailing, and swiped at the massive floral chandelier hanging above the altar.

The entire structure groaned and tipped. With a sound like a forest collapsing, the massive wire-and-flower arrangement plummeted, pinning the Sheriff and his deputies under a mountain of carnations and heavy metal scaffolding.

"My bad!" Ryan shouted over the chaos. "I didn’t mean to trip, but that was kind of a vibe, right?"

"Grab the pitchforks!" someone screamed from the back. "The dead boy is attacking the law!"

Before Ryan could formulate an excuse, the air in the room suddenly curdled. The sound of the screaming crowd cut out as if someone had hit the mute button on the universe. The flowers stayed mid-air, suspended in a frozen, floral explosion.

A man shimmered into existence near the podium. He wore a suit so white it hurt to look at, and his eyes held the cold, detached gaze of a CEO about to fire an entire department.

"Ryan," the Divine Official said, his voice echoing in the vacuum. "You are currently lagging. Your status as a 'Hero' has been initialized. Stop causing a scene."

"Yo, who are you? And why is everyone frozen?" Ryan squinted, poking at a suspended petal. "Is this a glitch? Am I in a server room?"

"I am the Divine Official. Your death was a clerical error regarding your destiny," the official replied, adjusting a glowing cufflink. "You are the chosen champion of this realm. The 'Hero' archetype comes with a resurrection perk. Use it wisely, or don't. It’s not my department."

"A hero? Fam, I’m just a guy who likes gaming and naps. Why me?"

"You had the most interesting stats before your heart stopped," the official said, already beginning to fade. "Try to survive the townspeople. They are currently programmed to be extremely tilted."

"Wait, don't leave me here! How do I turn the 'Hero' mode off? Is there an settings menu?"

"Check your peripheral vision," the official muttered, vanishing into a flicker of gold sparks.

Time snapped back into place. The crowd’s roar returned tenfold. The Sheriff, finally wrestling free from a giant fern, drew his pistol.

"He summoned a ghost! That was a demon pact!" the Sheriff roared. "Shoot him down before he levels the city!"

"Level the city? I can barely stand up!" Ryan shouted, ducking as a heavy hymnal whizzed past his ear. "Y’all are acting real sus right now! I’m just trying to leave!"

"Get back in the box, spawn of hell!" Leo shouted, though he looked visibly conflicted, holding a decorative vase like a baseball bat.

"Leo, bro, tell them I’m the real one!" Ryan pleaded, backing toward the heavy double doors of the funeral home.

"You lookin' kind of glitchy, man! I don't know who you are!" Leo yelled, trembling.

Ryan didn't wait for a rebuttal. He sprinted through the doors, bursting out into the cool evening air of the town square. He didn't look back as the sounds of pursuit, dogs barking, men shouting, and the distinct clatter of steel, echoed behind him.

He bolted toward the tree line, his dress shoes shredded, his tuxedo covered in grave dirt. He hit the edge of the Whispering Woods, his chest heaving, his hunger now a physical ache gnawing at his stomach.

"Okay," Ryan gasped, clutching his side. "I just need to find a way to update my status. Or find a quest giver. Anything but being a human pinata for these villagers."

He ducked behind a thick oak tree, trying to catch his breath. The silence of the forest was heavy, almost suffocating.

Then, he heard a metallic click.

Not a glitch sound. Not a divine beep. A hammer cocking back on a crossbow.

"Well, well," a gravelly voice echoed from the shadows. "Look what the grave coughed up."

Ryan peeked out from behind the trunk. Standing in the path were five men draped in rusted chainmail and leather, their faces scarred, their eyes hungry. They weren't villagers; they were the local scourge, the Blackwood Bandits.

"The fancy clothes look expensive," the lead bandit sneered, stepping into the moonlight. "And you look like you’ve been through a meat grinder. You got any coin, kid, or are we just taking the suit?"

Ryan looked at the five loaded crossbows pointed at his head, then back at the town behind him, where the Sheriff’s posse was gaining ground.

"Guys," Ryan said, putting his hands up and offering a shaky, crooked grin. "Before we do this, does anyone happen to have a sandwich? Because honestly, things are getting a little awkward."

The bandit captain squinted. "Kill him. He's gone soft in the head."

As the crossbows leveled up, Ryan felt a sudden, sharp blue glow pulse in his veins. The air around him began to hum.

"Actually," Ryan whispered, his eyes flashing with a light that didn't belong to this world, "I think I’m just getting started."