Rise Of The Undead King

“Get out of here, you bastard child—and don’t ever call me that…! I won’t have someone like you as a nephew.” An old man scowled as he ruthlessly kicked a little boy out of the house. Jack crashed to the ground with a loud thud, his face slamming into the dirt. Boop! His forehead struck the earth hard, leaving him with a large, swelling bump. He looked back as the old man shut the door behind him coldly. For a fleeting moment, tears welled up in his eyes. ‘Isn’t that supposed to be my uncle? Did I do anything bad…? He let mom stay, so why did he have to chase me away?’ The unsettling thought ravaged his mind, but he still couldn’t recall doing anything bad to receive such harsh treatment. Since his father’s death, Jack had tasted the worst of what life had to offer and was barely keeping up with life. At an age when he should have been cared for, Jack was thrown out into the streets to survive by himself. Still, he clung to a thread of hope. Wiping his tears, Jack stood and staggered towards the window, hoping he could still beg his uncle to let him inside the house. But suddenly he heard it—his mom’s voice. “Richard… Ah, mmmm, oh f**k, you’re so… thick!” Her soft moans pierced the silence, reaching his ears as he stood by the window. The sounds felt like a deep stab to his heart. Jack froze, trembling. ‘So this is why they chased me away?’ he mused, the pain stinging his heart. He had always known of his mother’s hidden relationship, but he had kept silent, pretending not to notice anything. After all, she was his mother. To think she’d throw him away right after his father died. Now, he, too, had gotten his fair share of being cheated on. He should have said something when he had the chance, but now, it was too late. The scene faded as Jack opened his eyes. That very memory remained etched in his mind, haunting him every time he closed his eyes, reminding him how cruel his world had become. Now sprawling on the cold, bare ground under the open night sky, Jack stared up at the stars. They shimmered with an almost unnatural brilliance, like jewels scattered across an inky black canvas. A cool breeze rustled the tall grass around him, but it did little to calm the storm of thoughts in his mind. The weight of the world pressed heavily on his chest, more suffocating than the fear of death itself. He had long since stopped believing in the goodness of people. Time had stripped away whatever decency remained in humanity, leaving behind a twisted, cruel and rotten version of society. The evil had spread like a plague, and it only worsened with each passing day. The irony was almost unbearable—that even with their imminent annihilation looming, no one had changed. No one even cared. His gaze drifted eastward, toward the tower near the horizon. The Gleam Dome shimmered faintly in the distance, its energy field the only thing holding back the deadly nether storm at bay. The storm—an unnatural, swirling, red vortex that blotted out the sky like a wound in the heavens—had appeared out of nowhere years ago, obliterating everything in its path, swallowing cities and lives alike. Thousands had perished in the first wave of destruction, and the remaining survivors of humanity had only managed to survive by building the dome that was powered by four massive towers stationed around the world. But tonight, something was different. Jack squinted, his heart skipping a beat as he spotted a c***k—small but unmistakable—running up the side of the eastern tower. He sat up abruptly, and his heart skipped a beat. A deep sense of alarm surged through him. If the tower collapsed, the dome would fall. And when the dome fell, the storm would devour everything. He should get up. He should warn someone. But then, he paused. Instead, he sat still, memories of his life flooding his mind—every bitter betrayal, every instance of cruelty and pain. They had tortured him, broken him, left him to rot. Why should he care what happened to this world? A dark chuckle escaped his lips. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, lying back down on the cold ground. “Let it fall. I don’t give a damn what happens to this place.” Yet even as the words left his mouth, a knot of fear tightened in his gut. As much as he loathed the world, as much as he wished to see it burn, the thought of his own death filled him with dread—he didn’t want to die. Who didn’t fear death? His eyes returned to the tower, watching as the c***k spread across its walls, looking like veins of red light bleeding through like glowing wounds. Red stardust leaked through the fissures, shimmering like blood under the faint moonlight. He wanted to look away. But he couldn’t. Something inevitable was happening, and still, he hesitated—torn between a desperate urge to live and a hatred for the world that wanted it to end. Suddenly, the city erupted into chaos. Alarms blared, and distant shouts echoed through the streets as people began to realize what was happening—but it was already too late. The dome was already collapsing, and the nether storm was closing in fast. Jack closed his eyes, a strange calm settling over him as the roar of the storm grew deafening. When he opened his eyes again, everything was gone. He was floating in a vast, dark void. The ground beneath him had vanished, replaced by an endless expanse of nothingness. Panic surged through him as he tried to move—but his body refused to respond. He felt a strange weightlessness, like a ghost adrift in the abyss. The pounding of his heart reached his ears, but there was no pulse in his veins—no sensation at all. “Oh. So the dome broke,” he murmured, his voice echoing in the emptiness. “I guess I’m dead now.” The realization settled over him like a leaden weight. But something didn’t add up. He could still think. Still speak. If he were dead, why was he still conscious? And why couldn’t he move? Suddenly, a blinding light exploded into being, flooding the void with searing brilliance. Jack instinctively tried to raise his hand to shield his eyes, but the gesture never completed. His limbs remained frozen, paralyzed. “Young one,” a deep, resonant voice boomed, reverberating through the space like thunder. Jack’s breath caught in his throat, fear prickling at the edges of his mind. “Who’s there?” he called out, his voice trembling. He squinted into the light, trying to make out the source of the voice, but the brightness was far too overwhelming. “I am the One. The Great One,” the voice replied, calm and commanding—its presence filling the air like a force of nature. Jack blinked, disbelief washing over him. Was this some kind of joke? “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered. “What, are we in a bad play now? Terrible acting, by the way.” A booming silence followed his words, cold and suffocating. A cold sweat—if he could still sweat—began to bead on his forehead. His mind scrambled, trying to piece together fragments of memory. He had seen the dome shatter. He had seen the storm consume the world. He had died. Was this… real? His mouth went dry as the full weight of the situation dawned on him. The Great One. A being of unimaginable power. He had just insulted it. His stomach churned with dread. “Oh, hell,” he whispered, his heart pounding. “I’m so dead.” “You tread dangerously,” the voice warned, the power in it sending a shiver through Jack’s very soul. “But your mistakes are pardonable—for now.” “Perfection lies in learning. And your journey has only just begun.” “Journey?” Jack’s voice cracked. He couldn’t keep the panic from creeping in. “What journey? And—wait, are you reading my mind?” No response came to answer his questions. Instead, the light grew even brighter, and the Great One’s tone softened, though it still carried the weight of a thousand suns. “You were among the first to be swallowed by the storm. Your world is lost. But you have a choice. I have a mission for you—one that will shape the fate of many.” A dazzling light surged around Jack, blinding and all-consuming. Then, in an instant, he was back. Back in his human body. Back on the broken streets of the city. He watched in horror as the broken streets spread out before him, as the Gleam Dome collapsed. The nether storm unleashed a wave of destruction that consumed and levelled everything that came in its path. People screamed, ran, and fell—before being splattered like crushed insects beneath the storm’s unrelenting pressure. Jack watched in silence as his own body was shredded to pieces by the storm. The sight should have filled him with terror. But instead… a twisted smile spread across his face. Watching the chaos, he felt no sympathy, no regret. “They all deserve it,” he muttered, remembering the cruelty of his world. “Let them all burn.” The Great One’s voice cut through the chaos. “Be careful what you wish for, young one. The fate of the world may rest in your hands.” Jack’s smile faltered. His stomach churned. A mission? To save the world, he had come to despise? “Well, shit.”