“You’re very lucky that you earned some World-first achievements.”

  I could tell Dickhead was stalling. “Cut the crap, Dick, how do I get out of here?”

  “Without a hearthrune, you’ll have to use the Unstuck ability.”

  That didn’t seem so bad, but why did it sound familiar? “Where can I find it?”

  “Under Quality of Life.”

  “Goddammit.” It was a QoL.

  Thank frank the Menu remembered my mute setting. I found Unstuck under the Popular banner, which meant I wasn’t the only schmuck to get stuck.

  Unstuck: 999 credits

  NCA.

  Single Use.

  Instantly relocates you to the default position of the Tutorial.

  What are you doing, step-player?! Don’t worry, we won’t tell… for a nominal price.

  “Come on! A thousand credits for just one use?” I groaned.

  Sure, I had over three thousand, but this would set me back by nearly a third. An unsettling question surfaced.

  “What happens if you don’t have enough credits to use Unstuck?”

  “You stay stuck…”

  “That’s shitty.”

  “It is. I hope that means you’ll listen to me next time.”

  “No promises,” I said. “But I’ll take it under advisement.”

  What remained of GodFather’s head stained the corner of my Lair, and I didn’t want it stinking up the place while I was gone.

  “Is there any way to clean that up?” I pointed toward the corner, hoping I didn’t have to scoop it up one-handed.

  “You can delete almost anything in your Lair from Build Mode.”

  I scooted back over to the Lair terminal, tapped on Build Mode, and flew out of my body again. It wasn’t so bad once I knew what to expect. Actually, it was kind of cool.

  Dickhead waited patiently while I looked over the user interface again, which I appreciated. Figuring shit out for myself was kind of my thing. It’s not that I had any issue with asking for help, but I liked to tinker. Puzzles were fun, especially if they were challenging.

  I found a Trash Can icon on the toolbar and selected it. When I looked at GodFather, it was like every molecule of DNA was highlighted. Poor bastard wasn’t just in the corner; he’d gotten everywhere. Seriously, it looked like a CSI crime scene under a blacklight.

  “Where does the trash go?” I asked before selecting anything.

  “Atomized and sent to the local singularity.”

  “You send shit into a black hole?!”

  “Store is more accurate. But yes, that’s pretty standard for DungeonCore. Everything not currently being used from your planet gets stored there. Nothing beats singularity compression when it comes to saving space.”

  “Are you telling me they can bring shit out of a black hole after it goes in?”

  “Of course. It wouldn’t be a very good storage solution if they couldn’t. How do you think they create the rewards for the treasure chests? Those refined materials you got didn’t come out of thin air.”

  That made sense, but it still puzzled me how they had changed me into an actual zombie.

  “What about stuff like traits, feats, and other physics-altering wizardry?”

  “That gets powered by the solar sails they’ve set up on the back half of your sun,” Dickhead explained.

  I didn’t know where to begin on that one, so I repeated the last part. “Back half?”

  “The side that faces away from your planet. DungeonCore has it easy with your solar system. You’ve only got one populated planet, so they can draw as much power as they need.”

  Again, Dickhead’s statement left so many questions.

  “How do they get the power to Earth?” I imagined a comically large power cord running through space.

  “Quantum anchoring. Don’t worry, you’ll learn all about it once the World Dungeon is over and they start your intergalactic integration.”

  I was done asking questions that only led to more questions. After I deleted GodFather’s remains, I exited Build Mode.

  “Is there anything I need to know before I purchase the Unstuck QoL?”

  “Only that you won’t be returning to the church. Unstuck sends you to the center of your Tutorial spawn point, which is a couple hundred miles from the nearest town.”

  “Are you kidding me? That’ll take weeks on foot!”

  “You’re forgetting your class traits. If we stick to the path, sprint the entire way, and don’t stop for anything, we could be there in about sixteen hours.”

  Holy shit. I hadn’t even considered my zombieness. Dickhead was right; I could cover a lot of ground if I sprinted the entire time. And while I’d be slightly slower than true top speeds, I could run forever. Almost forever. I asked about another logistical problem.

  “What about sleep?”

  He had mentioned that even zombies needed to rest.

  “While sprinting won’t drain your Mana, just being conscious slowly reduces your overall Mana pool. Sleeping resets it, so everyone needs to sleep. Unless they have a trait or QoL that says otherwise. Some of the other classes have restrictions on when, where, and how they sleep. You lucked out, because zombies don’t. You can pass out anywhere and get some rest, although I’d caution you against sleeping next to roads or other high-traffic areas. Wouldn’t want an NPC sneaking up on you.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  I guess sleeping for most of the past day wasn’t the worst thing ever. Besides, I’d worked double shifts before. You had to when you didn’t get paid until the job was done. Sixteen hours shouldn’t be too bad.

  I pulled up the QoL submenu and selected Unstuck. Just like before, there wasn’t a single confirmation menu. It just deducted my credits, showed me a System message, and everything went dark.

  [You’ve spent: 999 credits. Total credits: 2,094.]

  [Exiting your Lair. Please wait…]

  I reconstituted and was greeted by another System message.

  [Welcome to the Overworld.]

  I stood at the center of an eight-way crossroads. Each of the dirt paths took off in a cardinal or inter-cardinal direction, as if I was dead center of a map. I spun around, searching for signs telling where to go, but there weren’t any. Lightly wooded areas filled the space between each of the roads as they diverged into the distance.

  The air was comfortably warm, and a light breeze stirred the leaves in the surrounding woods. I didn’t mind it.

  “Which way should I go?”

  There were mountains to the north and east, while the south had hills. West remained flat.

  “It doesn’t really matter; each town is the same distance away.”

  West, then. It looked the easiest of all the routes. I took my first step and then stopped. Everyone spawning here would go west because it was the easiest direction.

  Screw that. I didn’t care what Dickhead had planned. The other players weren’t my friends. At best, they were rivals, and I’d just rather avoid them altogether if I could.

  I turned to face the mountains in the north. But before I started, a question itched at the back of my mind. I’d never been a Boy Scout or an outdoors kind of guy. Other than knowing the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, I didn’t know shit.

  My hand came up to shade my eyes as I looked up at the sun, dead-franking center of the sky. I guessed it to be about noon.

  “Dick, how is it I know all the directions?”

  “Your Internal Compass. It’s part of the quest system. Actually, give me a second.”

  A moment later, I felt a new pull in the distance. I turned to see a faint white beacon of light far off in the west.

  “I’ve just placed a location marker.”

  “Move it to the town to the north.”

  Dickhead argued, “But that’ll put you in the mountains.”

  “Just… do it for me?” I didn’t say please and hoped he wouldn’t make me.

  A beat later, he replied, “Okie-dokie, if that’s what you want.”

  I watched the beacon blip out and reappear as he moved it from the plains to the mountains.

  I took off at a full sprint, which felt mighty awkward with only one arm. Instead of pumping it back and forth, like a normal person, I sort of shuffled it side to side as I hugged my chest. But whatever, it worked.

  I hauled ass down that road as the wind tousled my short dark hair and caressed my pale skin. Even before becoming undead, I had that iconic complexion. My skin only had two modes: pale and lobster. I never remembered to put on my damn sunscreen. I adapted by wearing hats, long-sleeved shirts, and jackets all the time.

  With some luck, the town might even have a dry cleaner. I’d love to get some of the blood out of my leather jacket.

  It just felt so damn good to be able to move like this. My stride was long and powerful. I practically bounded down the dirt path thanks to my Super Strength. But I had to hold back as my feet could barely keep up otherwise. Probably because of my reduced Dexterity.

  I never enjoyed playing slower characters in video games, and I’d always been quick on my feet before the World Dungeon. Dexterity was going to be the first attribute I’d sort out with my FrankUp coins.

  I’d been sprinting for about five minutes straight, which was franking insane to think about. Just a day ago, I would’ve been gassed, panting and gasping for air after only ten seconds at this pace.

  I grinned.

  I could get used to this, I thought.

  My boots pounded the ground as I sped down the road at what felt like Mach 1. I knew it wasn’t, but I’d seen a lot of shit in the past few hours. Who knows? Maybe I could run at the speed of sound one day.

  It was a damn shame they had cut up my pants. Idiots. These were my favorite pair. The separated denim flapped in the wind as I raced—a constant reminder HATE had ruined them. Unless…

  “Dick, if they can reattach my arm in town, do you think they could fix my pants?”

  “Absolutely,” he said, making my damn day.

  An hour into my sprint, I was still cool as a cucumber. Not even a single bead of sweat sat on my brow. My exhilaration hadn’t faded either. I liked going fast; I liked it a lot.

  I’d just received a skill-up notification.

  [Your Running skill has increased to level 1.]

  That’s about when Dickhead spoke up again.

  “Looks like you’re coming up on some farmland,” he said.

  I saw the tree line of the forest approaching on both sides of the road. Beyond, it looked like the start of a wide stretch of farmland.

  “We should take a quick detour and heal up.”

  We both knew what he was talking about. It wasn’t like I hadn’t slaughtered a church full of people and eaten their brains before. There was no need to tiptoe around it. I was a zombie now, and zombies eat brains, which meant something else had to die so I could live. It wasn’t much different from before, except that my food didn’t say “moo” anymore. It was more like: “No, please stop; don’t kill me. I have a family.”

  Still, my Vitality was dangerously low and inching closer to negative by the hour. Dickhead was right; I needed to stop.

  “Fine,” I said. “Do you see a farmhouse or anything?”

  “You don’t want buildings nearby. Better to catch one in the fields. They’ll have nowhere to hide, no one nearby to call for help, and limited options to defend themselves.”

  He’d surprised me with that game plan.

  “Damn, Dick, that’s heartless. I like it.”

  “This isn’t my first time, remember? Also, You Know Who cuts my visual feed of you when you enter combat, so it’s important we plan everything out before that happens.”

  I stalked into the fields, searching for my next meal.

  Dickhead huffed. “These are all farmers; I was hoping to find some peasants.”

  “What’s the difference?” I stepped through another line of cornstalks.

  “Farmers have slightly more Strength and Vitality than peasants. But more importantly, peasants don’t carry any tools that could be used as weapons.

  “I’ve been studying the Tome of Heroes. It’s basically a re-skinned bestiary. It contains basic information about the NPCs we’ll be fighting. Peasants are the weakest class. They’re about as tough as the HATE cult you faced back in the church. Farmers, on the other hand, will put up a fight.”

  “Just don’t tell me their names.” I hated learning people’s names. It’d be easier to deal with nameless strangers.

  These aren’t real people, I told myself. Just meals on wheels.

  I got lucky with my first farmer; they only had a basket to gather corn. Neither the basket nor the farmer presented any real challenge. Landing my attacks, however, did.

  I came up from behind the bastard and swiped at him as hard as I could. Somehow, I missed. Alerted to my presence, the farmer spun around. He wore blue overalls and had a healthy pair of lungs.

  “Help!” he yelled.

  “Frank—”

  I cut Dickhead off. “Not now!” I snapped.

  “Okie-dokie.”

  I swiped at the farmer again, which he easily sidestepped. I growled as the farmer swung the basket of corn at me.

  “Stay back, you fiend!” he said.

  He sounded terrified, like he was a real person with actual emotions. Then he tore off an ear of corn and chucked it at me. It bounced off my face harmlessly.

  I gave him a deadpan stare. “Really?”

  Screw swiping, I switched to punching instead. But whiff after whiff, I still kept missing. For the life of me, I couldn’t hit the franker. I glanced down at my missing arm, wondering if that was what kept throwing me off.

  The farmer kept yelling for help as he squared up to me. I was thankful he wasn’t any smarter. Running would have been a much better choice for him.

  “Grapple, Frank,” Dickhead said.

  His backseat driving just pissed me off even more.

  “Then what?” I demanded. “I’ve only got one arm!”

  “You can still bite him.”

  I grunted at the obvious answer. He was right, of course, but it was just so basic, such a zombie move. Setting aside my pride, I grabbed the idiot, and bit deep into his neck.

  [Your Grappling skill has increased to level 1.]