CHAPTER 3: Death, Lit
787 Words
CHAPTER 3: Death, Lit
Seconds ticked like the teeth of a hungry clock, gnawing into Kaelen's skull as he kept his palms flat against the orb. Thirty seconds: that was all. More than that it was mere hope licking the fringe of failure.
Ten seconds.
Fifteen.
Twenty.
Twenty-five.
The breath of the teacher caught. He was already halfway to raising his clipboard to terminate it. And Kaelen, whose heart sank like a stone in the Mariana Trench, could already feel the burden of disappointment starting to bury him alive--
Then it came.
A vicious flash of light burst forth out of the orb, not soft and welcoming, but rough and wild, as though the thing was shouting.
Kaelen was burning. Not agonizingly, but warm: a breath of strength creeping up his arms, writhing through his blood like intelligent steam. His eyes tunneled. The room disappeared.
He was in darkness.
Melancholy settled down on him like a tar-fog. Out of the twister a spectral staff had coalesced, blacker than space, overlaid with jagged obsidian runes which flared purple, then red, then a color that had no name, yet still tasted like dread.
Then it disappeared, and there was only silence.
The teacher winked. Stared. Then bellowed:
"Kaelen Norman has successfully awakened a class—Necromancer!"
Gasps.
Somewhere in the audience, a voice muttered, "Another one?!"
Another replied, "Necromancer, huh? Sounds powerful. Maybe evil."
"Be confident with your words, cunt," said another. "That’s evil as fuck."
"Yeah, and I'd sell my soul, my kidney, and half my asscheek if it meant awakening too."
"You’d do that even if it didn’t."
The outburst of responses was not as spectacular as the flame display by Brian, but it was sufficient. To distinguish Kaelen as more than a background extra in the poverty play.
The teacher didn’t know Kaelen. Didn’t care. But his face lit up as if someone had promised him tenure.
"Good, good, good," he muttered, each repetition more pleased than the last.
He gestured Kaelen over. “Stand with the others.”
Still stunned, Kaelen nodded and walked over, joining Lilian and Brian.
Lilian gave a shy, unsure nod. Brian, more serious than cocky, gave a respectful acknowledgment. Kaelen returned both but was barely present.
Because hovering in front of him now was something new:
---
[Name: Kaelen Norman]
[Race: Human]
[Class: Necromancer Apprentice]
[Level: 1]
[EXP: 0/100]
[Strength: 1.3]
[Agility: 1.4]
[Constitution: 1.2]
[Intelligence: 4.5]
[Attribute Points: 0]
[Skills: Undead Summoning, Undead Revival]
[Talent: Infinite Evolution]
[Class Skill: Contract Slot {0/2}]
[Gift: Mark of Origin]
---
Kaelen's brain stalled. He’d actually awakened. The word pounded against the walls of his mind like a drunk kicking open doors. Awakened.
His chest heaved, then slowly settled. A grin cracked across his face like it hadn’t done in years.
Whatever came next, it didn’t matter.
He had a f*****g shot.
He let his attention drift back to the stage. Only six students left. Four minutes until this life-defining ritual ended.
He allowed himself to breathe.
Necromancer. Not a Knight. Not a Fire Mage. But… Necromancer.
What did that mean, exactly?
He knew the basics: Combat, Support, and Lifestyle classes. Necromancers weren’t exactly featured on school posters, and teachers rarely talked about them unless prompted.
Was it powerful? Was it evil? Did it come with tax benefits?
Kaelen didn’t know. But he’d find out.
The panel in his vision hovered like a tattoo behind his eyes, begging for exploration. But before he could poke around, the teacher’s voice rang out once more.
"Alright, that's it for today."
Dozens of heads slumped, the non-Awakened trying to hold themselves together. The teacher continued, voice equal parts sincerity and institutional damage control:
"Failing to awaken doesn't mean your life is over. When the apocalypse hit, half the cunts who saved the world didn’t have classes. Just guts. So chin up."
Kaelen gave a small nod. It was a good speech. Sharp. Motivating. Delusional. But necessary.
The world might be digitized, but reality still had teeth. Failure here meant scraping through life while tech kept evolving without you. Machines had already killed most jobs. The only things left for the average person were minimum wage, misery, or dying creatively.
The teacher ended with a reminder:
"The college exams—both standard and cultivation-based—are in three months. Use the time wisely. Just because school ends today doesn't mean learning stops."
"Yes, sir!" came the chorus.
The teacher looked at Kaelen, Lilian, and Brian, smiling as if he'd just adopted three golden geese.
"You three, with me. Principal's office."
Kaelen stepped off the stage, every movement echoing the new rhythm in his blood.
He was something now.
And the world was about to find out what.
- Writer
