Eventually he sat up and looked around.
Still alone in a crypt. Damn.
Just him and his sarcophagus.
But a thought tugged at him. If he really was reincarnated, maybe Martha had been too. He wasn’t starting out as a baby, which was weird, but fine. He looked down at his hands. No age spots. His body. No gut hanging over his belt. Also no belt. He studied his clothes. An immaculate old-world suit clung to his frame. Lace cuffs, an embroidered waistcoat, and a dark cloak draped over his shoulders.
Who had dressed him? No memory answered. Thinking about it made something else apparent. Thinking was easier. No fog. No confusion. Well, other than the very minor bit of confusion regarding where he was and how he got there.
Okay, maybe a bit prone to wandering off track but he’d let that go under the circumstances. The point was, Martha could be here, and she could be any age.
“System?”
:: System: Hello
“Is my wife Martha on this world?”
:: Scanning…
:: System: No record of Martha Blackheart detected.
“Blackheart? No, it would be Blackstone. Martha Eustice Blackstone. Or maybe her maiden name, Martha Eustice Padilla.”
:: Scanning…
Harry waited but the scan continued.
:: Scanning…
Well, alright then. He moved his head side to side trying to see around the text. It filled quite a bit of his vision.
“Can you turn that off? Or make it smaller?”
No reaction. Just the same words.
:: Scanning…
Well, crap. He tried physically swiping at the floating words, that did nothing. But by experimenting he finally figured out he could shrink the text and move it around. Turned out it was just a question of concentrating on the words and willing them to move.
That’s handy. And not at all unsettling.
He pushed himself up and took stock. Going back to the sarcophagus revealed nothing. Other than dust it was empty. The stone lid lay on the floor partially cracked. Had he really moved that massive piece of stone? He held out his arms, squeezed his biceps, ran his hands over his face. He stood on his toes and did some high steps around the room. This was not the body of an eighty-six year old man. He felt young. He’d guess somewhere in his late twenties. Maybe thirty.
He tiptoed to the door before realizing that was silly and eased it open.
He checked the corner of his vision.
:: Scanning…
No change there. With a shrug, he tiptoed outside. So what if it was silly.
He stepped out into a broad expanse of turf, gravel paths winding in neat arcs between row upon row of headstones. Behind him to his left and right were more crypts like the one he had exited. The ground was smooth and level, the grass clipped short, slick with dew under the moon’s glow. Around the edges, towering oaks and somber cypresses stood like silent sentinels, their branches barely stirring in the still air. A bat winged overhead.
He paused, taking in the hush and the shapes in the silver light. His gaze drifted over the stones and he realized none of them bore the familiar silhouette of a cross. Instead they were etched with different symbols; a moon, a constellation, trees, swords, other odd shapes he didn’t recognize.
He walked to the nearest stone and knelt. Tracing the carving with an unsteady finger.
Instead of a cross, a stylized sheaf of wheat
Lord Theodore Ashcombe
1158-1234
Harvest Knight - Level 12
His sword protected the kingdom; may he now rest in the peace he gave to others.
He stood and moved on.
An engraved quarter moon
Sir Jonas Flint
1208 – 1265
Hero of the Crescent Moon – Level 22
He stood when others faltered; his legend outlives his days.
And the next.
Another moon but much more stylized
Lady Miriam Silverbrook
1191 – 1284
Cleric of Alune – Level 25
Her prayers guided lost souls beyond the veil.
He walked along the row, quickly reading the names and dates: Dame Miriam Nightwind 1200-1260, Sir Rowan Blackwood 1185-1243, Priestess Elowen Gale 1199-1255.
He stopped. Breath coming fast and hard. The cold air ruffled his hair, absently he reached up and ran a hand through it. Longer than it should have been. Much longer and fuller. It felt nice.
The message in the corner of his vision chose that moment to finally change. It moved front and center, turning very bright again.
:: ERROR
:: System: RESETTING
Great. That couldn’t be good. Hopefully they had IT demons of their own. Harry stopped mid-step and looked around. Alright no, maybe not demons. Some super friendly IT angels. With a thought he moved the words back down to the corner of his vision. With some extra experimentation, he was able to turn down the brightness and change the color to a nice shade of blue.
A thought struck him and he turned to return to his crypt.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Your crypt, Harry?
Oh well, a guy has to live somewhere. And he’d done worse the first time in his twenties. Hopefully there was a convenience store nearby. Was he going to need a job?
Back at the crypt he stood outside the door and looked up. Sure enough, above the lintel, a tarnished brass plate embedded in the stone, its letters hidden under a layer of grime. He rose onto his toes and wiped the plaque with the end of his shirt sleeve.
Sir Harold Blackheart
972 – 1058
He pressed a fingertip to the plaque’s surface, feeling the faint indentations of a name long buried, and an uneasy shiver ran down his spine.
“Blackheart? Great. If I see Mrs. Weaver again, we’re going to have words.”
As if in response, the system rose up again.
:: System: WELCOME
Of course it was overwhelmingly bright and white. It reminded him of a family reunion. Thankfully, he’d had Martha to add some color.
“We’ve done this already.”
Mentally he turned down the brightness and changed the color back to blue.
:: Scanning…
:: System: Accept reward Unlock User Interface? (Y/N)
“Hold on. First things first, you know my name is Blackstone right? Harold Bartholomew Blackstone.”
:: Scanning…
He waited. With a sigh he shrank the text and moved it back down to the corner.
What now, Harry?
He looked up at the sky. Maybe seven hours till dawn.
And how do you know that, Harry?
He’d never been particularly good at guessing the time. He thought about exploring more of the area but before he had a chance a large, fat rat scurried out from behind the nearest gravestone. Its bristled fur was matted from the damp grass, whiskers quivering as it scraped at the soil near the stone, its dark eyes catching the moonlight.
Rattus norvegicus. A common sewer rat. At least, it would be a sewer rat if the animals here were the same as on earth. That thought made him feel a little light headed and he staggered to a bench conveniently placed between his crypt and his neighbor and sat down.
Breathe, Harry. This was really going to take some getting used to.
:: ERROR
:: System: RESETTING
“Quicker this time at least.”
He waited and sure enough the same message appeared.
:: System: WELCOME
He turned it down, changed it to blue and thought about what to do. No point in breaking it again. At least, not at the moment.
“So… I have a user interface now?”
:: Scanning…
:: System: Accept reward Unlock User Interface? (Y/N)
“Yeah. Go ahead.”
The message went away. And was quickly replaced by nothing.
“Well?”
Nothing.
“Show interface?”
:: System: Welcome Initiate
:: Species: Human
:: Class: Vampire Level 0 (25/500)
:: Health: 100/100
:: Strength: 5
:: Agility: 5
:: Endurance: 10
:: Willpower: 10
:: Presence: 5
:: Intellect: 12
:: Vitae: 95/100
:: Thirst Meter: 5%
He jumped in surprise. That wasn’t what he was expecting. He started to scan the text and froze on the third line.
“Vampire!”
What the hell. It’s too much. Vampire? He was crazy and no doubt sitting right now in a nice, safe, padded room.
“I’m a vampire?”
The wall of text was replaced and two meters appeared in the corner of his vision.
V: 95 | TM: 5%
He’d think about those later.
:: System: Affirmative
“A vampire? Like, I vill.. suck your blood vampire?”
:: System: I am a single shard of the multifaceted system. From your perspective I am an incorporeal construct.
“And?”
:: System: I have no blood.
Harry slumped over, elbows on knees and buried his face in his hands. A sudden knot tightened in his stomach, his chest felt constricted.
Great. A vampire.
“I won’t do it. I’m not going to bite anyone. Or kill anyone. So get that idea out of your head.”
Nothing.
“I need to talk to someone. Who’s in charge here?”
:: Lothara: Ruled by King Darius III
:: Age: 61
:: Class: Hero of the Sword (Level unknown - rumored to be high 20s)
:: Whitethorn Dynasty
:: Son of Darius II and Princess Elara
:: Also known as: The Midnight Sovereign
“No. Who is in charge of you? I want to speak to your manager.”
:: System: I am a single shard of one aspect of the multifaceted all-encompassing system that governs reality.
“That sounds like nonsense.”
Nothing.
“So who’s in charge of your aspect.”
:: System: I am a shard of the User Interface aspect. There are currently 35,627 active User Interface shards. Those combined with the unassigned User Interface shards make up User Interface Aspect.
Harry let out a long sigh.
“Where did the all-encompassing system come from?”
:: System: Unknown. Current working theory is that we are a fundamental constant. Like gravity or time.
“It can’t be that fundamental. My world doesn’t have a system.
:: Scanning…
He waited. And waited a bit more.
Great. Broke it again.
He moved it down next to the meters and pushed himself to his feet. Nothing made sense. Rubbing his temples, he tried to pull the fragments of memory into focus: the interview room, the woman’s questions. His answers. Blood is very important. It’s life itself; he heard his own voice echoing in his mind.
Wonderful. This whole thing was a bureaucratic screw up. Typical.
He looked around to get his bearings, and for the first time noticed lights to the east. Warm and twinkling. Some sort of settlement. Might as well check it out. Hopefully he wouldn’t have a compulsion to bite the first person he met.
He crossed the dew-slick grass toward a narrow footpath flanked by low hedges. The path led to a rutted dirt road disappearing into the night. With nothing else to guide him, he set off down the road. Each step carried him closer to the distant glow.
***
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