The Necromancer Who Wanted to Stay Human

Chapter 1: The Awakening of the Grave-Walker

The air tasted of wet copper and rot. It was a thick, suffocating sensation that coated the back of Ramon’s throat, making every breath a chore.

He didn't know where he was. He didn't know how he’d gotten here. He only knew that the weight of the world—or perhaps just five feet of heavy, packed soil—was pressing down on his chest. He pushed upward, his fingernails clawing into loose, damp dirt, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.

"Ugh… what the hell?" Ramon gasped, his voice cracking. He lunged upward, gasping for air as his head broke the surface of the earth. He crawled out, his limbs trembling, shivering as he collapsed onto the muddy ground.

He looked around. It was a pit. A sprawling, desolate trench filled with pale, contorted faces and stiff limbs. A mass grave.

"Hey, wake up! Someone? Anyone?" Ramon shouted, though his voice was barely a whisper. He looked down at his own clothes. They were shredded, stained with dark, crusty patches of gore that weren't his own. Or, at least, he hoped they weren't.

"This isn't real. It’s a dream, yeah? Just a nightmare," he muttered to himself, scrambling to his feet. He stumbled over a ribcage, his boot sinking into the soft mud. "Man, this is messed up. Where am I?"

He reached out to steady himself against a slumped body, a man in tattered gray rags. As his palm made contact with the cold, leathery skin of the corpse’s shoulder, a strange, electric hum pulsed through his veins. A voice—ancient, cold, and resonating from the marrow of his own bones—echoed in his skull.

“The cycle is broken, little vessel. I am Hel. You are the bridge.”

Ramon recoiled, clutching his head. "Who said that? Get out of my head! I’m just… I’m just having a stroke, right? A total mental breakdown."

He looked at his hand. The skin was glowing with a faint, sickly violet hue. He felt an urge, a compulsion to pull the threads of life back into the cooling meat of the man beside him.

"Get up," Ramon whispered, his hand trembling as he reached toward the corpse. "Come on, move. Just… move."

The corpse’s fingers twitched. Then, with a sickening crack of bone, the jaw snapped open. The body surged upward, lunging for Ramon’s throat.

"Whoa! Hey, back off! I didn't mean it like that!" Ramon screamed, scrambling backward.

The corpse was fast, moving with a jerky, unnatural rhythm. It clawed at the air, its eyes milky and vacant, driven by a violent, hungry instinct.

"Stupid, stupid! Don't look at me, look at the wall!" Ramon shrieked, ducking as the creature swiped at him.

The corpse crashed into the side of the trench, its head smashing against the packed dirt.

"Listen, man—or whatever you are—let's just talk about this," Ramon stammered, his pulse racing. "I don't want to hurt you, but you're really killing the vibe here. Can’t we just chill?"

The corpse spun around, lunging again.

"Okay, fine! You want to play rough?" Ramon dodged, side-stepping the creature. He noticed the way its weight shifted, favoring its left side, dragging its ruined foot.

As the creature lunged again, Ramon didn't retreat. He stepped forward, hooking his foot behind the corpse's unstable leg and shoving the creature’s shoulder hard. The weight did the rest. The corpse tumbled headfirst into a pile of jagged rocks at the base of the grave, its neck twisting at an impossible angle before it finally went still.

Ramon stood over it, panting. "Jesus. I’m gonna be sick."

He leaned against the trench wall, his knees giving way. "What kind of sick prank is this? First the voice, then the zombie… I just want to go home. Can I go home?"

Suddenly, a translucent blue interface flickered into existence before his eyes, bathing his face in a cold, neon glow.

[ SOUL CONTRACT SYSTEM ACTIVATED ]

[ HOST: RAMON ]

[ STATUS: NECROMANTIC BOND ESTABLISHED ]

[ CURRENT CONTRACTS: 0/1 ]

[ WARNING: HOST IS VULNERABLE. SOUL ANCHORING REQUIRED. ]

Ramon stared at the floating text, his eyes widening. "What the… is this a HUD? Like in those stupid games? Seriously?"

He waved his hand through the text. It didn't ripple; it just hovered, mocking him.

"System? Are you real? Can you tell me where I am?" he asked the empty air.

The screen shifted.

[ CONTRACTUAL OBLIGATION: HARVEST A SOUL TO STABILIZE THE VESSEL. ]

"Harvest? Harvest a soul? Are you out of your mind?" Ramon wiped the sweat from his forehead, his face pale. "I’m not a reaper. I’m just… I’m just a guy."

He looked at the corpse he had just 'defeated.'

"I didn't kill that thing. I mean, it was already dead, right? Does that count? Do I have to… do something to it?"

He felt a cold chill climb up his spine. He wasn't alone. He felt a gaze—something heavy and observant—locked onto the back of his neck.

Ramon spun around, squinting into the gloom of the trench. The shadows seemed to stretch, twisting into unnatural shapes.

"Who’s there?" he called out, his voice wavering. "Look, if you’re a friend of this guy, he tripped, alright? I didn't mean to break him."

A figure emerged from the shadows near the trench’s edge. It was a girl, barely older than him, clutching a rusted blade. She wore a heavy cloak covered in the same grime as the rest of the pit. Her eyes were sharp, scanning him with a mix of suspicion and genuine terror.

"You," she whispered, her voice like grinding stones. "You’re the one who woke them up."

Ramon raised his hands, palms open. "Hey, easy. I didn't wake anything up. I just… I just crawled out of this mess. I don't even know what's going on."

The girl didn't lower her blade. She stepped closer, her gaze flickering to the interface still glowing in front of Ramon.

"I saw what you did," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "That wasn't just a push. You pulled the spirit back into the carcass and then… you shoved it out again. You’re a Necromancer, aren't you?"

Ramon blinked, staring at her, then back at his interface. "Necro-what? No. I’m Ramon. I’m just trying to find a way out of here."

"There is no 'out,'" she replied, her eyes darting to the shifting shadows behind him. "Not for us. Not anymore."

"Who are you?" Ramon asked, stepping forward, his panic beginning to boil over into a desperate sort of curiosity. "What is this place?"

The girl hesitated, then tightened her grip on her blade. "Beatriz. And if you want to live for more than another ten minutes, you’re going to stop talking to the air and start listening to me."

"Beatriz, okay. Look, Beatriz, I really don't want any trouble," Ramon said, trying to force a reassuring smile that felt more like a grimace. "I just want to figure out how to turn this blue screen off and get a cup of coffee. Can we do that?"

Beatriz gave a short, humorless laugh. "Coffee? You’re in a mass grave, you’ve got the mark of the dead on your soul, and you're worried about coffee? Forget it. The Grave-Wards are coming. And if they see you—with that power—they’ll tear your soul into ribbons."

Ramon felt his heart sink. "Grave-Wards? Great. Just what I needed. More monsters."

"Not monsters," Beatriz said, stepping into the dim light. She looked terrified, but determined. "Executioners."

Ramon looked at the glowing blue text again, then at the girl. "Okay. Beatriz, right? You win. I’m listening. What do we do?"