A Survivor’s Will (TWD)

AUTHOR'S NOTES; Yo! If you're new here, fucking welcome! This is were I express all my chaotic urges so it doesn't self destruct my everyday life. lol.

If you're one of my wonderful, amazing, badass readers, sup! I'm alive! Ya girl went on vacation and took a lot of time starting this fic because it's nothing like my other works. might not be your cup of tea, and that's okay. Thx for stopping by anyway, you beautiful creatures, you! 💙

Anyway, this is a gamer fic. Why? Shits and giggles, really. Plus, if y'all have read manga, manhwa, manhua, ect, y'all know the potential of this zombie apocalypse genre. I always thought that mutated zombies could have been so sick in the walking dead. Alas, all we got were some motherfuckers that could climb shit like ten years into the series, lmao.

Like always, this is a part of my series, but can be read independently as we follow the MC on her journey through the cycle of reincarnation.

Love you guys so much. I'll be updating soon, and hopefully all my works will get an update before school starts again.

Have fun and tell me how you liked it since I'm feeling hella insecure about writting something so different from anything I've done before. 💙

Discord!

https://discord.gg/XhqUDAnbsH

XXXXXRICKXXXXX

"You' a good man, Rick. I hope you find your wife and son," Morgan says, gripping my hand before turning away.

"Be seeing you, Duane. Take care of your old man." I murmur, smiling at the kid that reminds me so much of my own.

"Yes, sir." Duane's smile is bright and I pray to god, which god I no longer know, it stays that way.

"Are you Rick Grimes?" I whip my head around, stunned by thr sight of an Asian kid and a redneck. I'm so taken off guard that for a minute, the only thing I can think is that 'there's an odd pair if I've ever seen one'. "And Morgan Jones?"

"Who's asking?" Morgan replies, eyes narrowed as he rests his hand on his gun.

The redneck glowers, his grip on his crossbow tightening and his lowered weapon raising a hint, but the younger man's hand on his arm gives him pause.

"I'm Glenn," the boy, barely out of his teens, says with a hesitant look on his face, but his eyes were earnest enough that I keep my hand off my hip holster, only just, but still. "This guy is Daryl."

"And how do you know me?" I ask warily.

Glenn shrugs. "We don't. But, our leader saw you and decided to extend her hand. She-"

"Glenn!" Daryl growls. "Keep your trap shut. You can't go spilling her secrets like your takin' a pi… leak."

I raise my eyebrow, suddenly reevaluating the gruff man as I see him curb his language at the sight of Duane peeking out from behind his father. No one that minded children like that could be too bad. With so many years of reading people on both sides of the law, I've become a decent enough judge of character, and right now, my gut, something I've long since known better than to ignore, is saying these people were trustworthy.

Glenn shakes his head, eyes still earnest. "She said they were good people, and if we recruit them, they'll find out soon enough!"

"Recruit?" I ask warily, glancing between the two strangers. I can't get past how oddly matched they are, and it has me wondering if it's some kind of prejudice on my part that I didn't know I had.

"Our leader, Artemizia, has got a very special skill. A Divine one," Glenn states, something proud in the way he declares the words. 

I feel my eyes widen since even I, after only being awake for a few days, knew that was a big deal. I took a bullet, fell into a coma, and woke up in a new world with totally different rules, but when Morgan and Duane had found me and helped me understand. Someone with a Divine skill could single handedly support an entire community of survivors. I frown, realizing that the name is familiar as well, too unique to be mistaken.

"Artemizia,… she)s one if the Pioneers! The one who put up that video, warning people about walkers! A Divine skill? What kind?" Morgan breathes, and I suddenly remember why the name was familiar. Someone by that name had posted a few videos on the System that had, according to Morgan, offered valuable information that likely saved an uncountable amount of lives. With my level, it wasn't something I had access to, but Morgan had told me about it.

"She can see the future," Glenn says seriously and I can't help the disbelief bubbling up even with all the insanity suddenly taking over the world, all the monsters and walkers and the System and the fucking sky people calling themselves gods. Glenn points to the plaque with the police station's name hanging behind us. "She saw that you'd come and asked us to meet you and try to convince you to join us."

"Why? A power like that…. Why would she go out of her way for us?" Morgan asks, body tensing with more suspicion and I shift my weight uneasily.

Morgan had made it very clear how rare my Legendary tier skills are, and considering Divine skills were a tier above, I can understand his suspicion. Why would someone with that kind of power seek us out?

Daryl huffs, startling me by suddenly speaking again. "Cuz power in numbers. Strong people are good, but good people are even better. And I she said you were both. Trust me, I don't get it much either, but it ain't like it's the first time she done somethin' like this."

The man with the crossbow scowls, examining the surroundings as he paced aggressively, and it strangely reminds me of a big cat locked in a cage. "Look, we can tell you she's good people, and that we really do work for who we say we do-" I grimace, not having even considered that possibility yet. "-but there ain't no reason for ya to believe us, so let's put it like this. Ya wanna chance at finding yer wife and son? She's yer best bet."

I tense, feeling hope set fire to my ass because he is right. Some pychic, assuming she really existed, is probably my best bet. And frankly, it is my only lead.

"Fine, but that doesn't give us a reason," Morgan says, pointing at him and his son.

Daryl growls, taking a menacing step forward, but immediately backing off when Duane flinches, his furious expression mellowing some. "Send the kid to the car. I'll tell ya why, but ya ain't gonna want him hearin' this."

Reluctantly, Morgan does even as Glenn hisses under his breath at his companion, who just shakes him off, glaring. "Stop pussyfootin' around it, Chinaman."

I frown, taken back by the blatant racism and how, despite it, the two seemed oddly close. Daryl turns his attention back to us, eyes deadly serious. "Boss Bitch said that 'Jenny' whoever the fuck that is, would come home and 'Duane' would die. She also said to tell 'Morgan' that 'if he didn't show his son how to make the hard decisions now, he'd lose him."

I feel the color drain from my face even as Morgan recoils, already shaking his head in panicked denial. Glenn looks grim, lips pursed, but he remains quiet, not contradicting anything.

My mind races. Technically, it is possible that they could have learned some of this from watching us, maybe, if they had the right combination of skills. But, how likely it was that we'd been spied on with the perfect collective amount of skills to fake a psychic ability by finding out not only our identities and our private details, but the right motivation to get us to do what they wanted? Especially because if they had access to such a variety of skills, they probably had more than enough numbers to take whatever it was they wanted from us in the first place, rather than this oddly straightforward approach. Judging by Morgan's horror stricken expression, I'm guessing it ain't likely that they're lying in order to stab us in the back later.

"I'm guessing you're Morgan, but whose Duane?" Glen suddenly asks, brows furrowed in what looked like sincere confusion and worry, and I stare, realization dawning on me. It genuinely didn't look like they knew that Duane was Morgan's son, the message they'd passed on, now that I think of it, not having actually made it seem like Duan and Morgan's son were the same person, and it is another piece of evidence that pointed to them just being messengers rather than spies.

Theoretically, these perfectly aligned, little details could've been orchestrated, but my gut says otherwise. 

I turn to Morgan, and I watch something in his expression shift and harden. It looked like resolve, and I feel the breath leaving me in silent relief before I even realize it. "I'm coming. I don't promise to join your group, but it's the only lead I've got to my family, so I'll check it out. But, Morgan…."

Morgan's jaw clenches, sweat beading across his dark skin. "I… I can't afford to ignore this warning and risk Duane, my son. I… I need to put my wife, Jenny, to rest. But, I'll come."

"Need help?" Surprisingly, the compassionate offer came from the gruff, hardened redneck, his eyes still fervently scanning the surroundings, but Morgan just shakes his head.

"Your leader is right. I gotta teach my boy about makin' the hard decisions myself."

We get into our cars and head back to Morgan's to put his wife to rest, the two newcomers driving a quiet van. While Morgan and Duane lure her off to take care of it together, despite the boy's quiet weeping, I stay to monitor the newcomers. "So, how exactly did your group form? What's it like?"

Glenn rubs his head sheepishly. "Well, Zia- Artemizia- she is… a character."

"She's fuckin' crazy," Daryl grunts bluntly. "Smart. Strong. Fair… Kinder than anyone else. But crazier than a bag o' cats and 10 times as vicious when it's called for. As for how we formed, well… I guess it was all pretty much like this. Crazy Bitch sets her sights on ya, does her mystic bullshit, and then yer loyally following her before ya even know how it happened."

I gape, wondering just what I'd just gotten myself into.

XXXXXARTEMIZIAXXXXX 

(One Month Earlier)

In between one breath and the next, a puzzle piece slots perfectly into place. There is no earth shattering enlightenment or crippling agony. There is just a tingle, a buzzing, humming, warmth, the echoing thump of my heart and a floating sensation, and then I remember.

"My name… iit's Artemizia this time, huh?"

One night, I'm putting my baby girl, my Kyra, to sleep, and coaxing Altair, my fifteen year old baby brother into doing the same, calling my parents who were away for business, wishing them luck on their trip, and then I'm sleeping. The next time I open my eyes, my whole world is quietly changed.

I breathe, slowly sitting up. My head swims slightly, but I instantly recognize I'm not entirely the same person I was last night. Slowly, I begin to piece together why I'm only just remembering myself. "Okay. Fuck."

The situation isn't really a new one. I'm a reincarnator, one with a certain arrangement with the primordial gods I call Death, Magic, and Fate. Typically, I am reborn with my memories and abilities, the ones permanently attached to my soul, but this situation, where I don't remember my past lives nearly immediately, has only happened a few times before. 

I hum, running a hand over my forehead as I get to my feet, only the barest hint unsteady. The merging of my current life and past ones has been astonishingly smooth and painless so far. But, there is something rather interesting about this time. Because of my repeated incarnations, certain abilities became ingrained in my soul, following me from life to life. And since I had to follow the rules of the worlds I was born into just like anyone else, I can't be born into worlds that my abilities would violate the rules of. So, if I am only just remembering my past lives, that means that I've eith only just met some kind of condition to unlock my abilities or that means that the majority of my soul, and my memories, was sealed to fit into this world and have only just been unsealed. As far as I can remember from this life, this world has never had supernatural powers which explains why, for the first 25 years of it, both my powers and memories were dormant.

"The laws of this world had just changed, then," I decide.

Hmm, I consider mildly, forcing my breathing to stay calm as I head to a mirror to look my current vessel over for the first time with my full soul and memories. 

My face and features are round, my skin a medium olive, my race and ethnicity some mix of Middle Eastern, Mediterranean, North African and South Asian. Some East Asian and Sub-Saharan African, too, I remember. This was all normal.

I think at first I always ended up looking mostly the same because the gods were having mercy on me and trying to mitigate the body dysmorphia, but now it is merely something that has become a part of my soul, something that occurs when certain characteristics of a person are repeated in multiple lives, like both my appearance and powers. It's why my coloring as I examined myself in the mirror isn't at all surprising. The undercut section of my hair, everything below the level of the top of my ears, was black, or perhaps dark brown, (something I couldn't quite tell with my perpetually shity eyes, another repeat characteristic). But the rest of my hair and eyes were an unnatural silver, starkly so. It was a cool look, but I knew that when I went to bed last night both my eyes and hair had been brown.

I shake my head, brushing away the thoughts. I have more urgent shit to deal with. Like the incoming apocalypse, my two kids and three pets to care for, and warning the parents I'd probably never see again.

I squint at the slight feeling of vertigo as I remember making a deal with the gods to entertain them with a good old apocalypse run in return for reincarnating where I did in my last life. I twitch violently, but manage to keep composure knowing damn well that I can't bitch and moan since I had agreed to it. And besides, I have always wanted to do the whole zombie apocalypse thing, I note wryly as I take in the familiar yet unfamiliar features staring back at me from the reflection.

With a final bemused look, I shake of the feeling of wrongwrongwrong and that'snotme and march to the kitchen, everything feeling vaguely like Deja vu as my memories and self sync further, but I'm grateful because the last time I'd had to assimilate my past lives into a new one, it had been a painful, multi year process. "Ugh, this feels weird."

The scratching of claws on hardwood has me greeted by the sight of the three big ass dogs I'm going to be attempting to keep alive. One black German Shepherd by the name of Stalker, one gray lady husky named Riot, still mostly a puppy, and one ancient, brown Newfoundland, affectionately named Shield.

"Ah, the fuck am I gonna feed you three from now on?" I hiss to myself even as I start filling their bowls. I'd do crazy shit to keep these floofy bundles of joy alive, second only to the kids in my care, but food scarcity is going to be a real problem. I needed to think quickly. The end hasn't started yet, but my awakening is evidence that the rules of this existence have changed, and in turn, that heralded doomsday. "Riot, go wake Altair. Go."

Clever dog in all her puppy glee is off even as I begin rapidly grabbing non perishables and flipping on the TV to the news, baring my teeth when reports of a weird virus and sudden outbursts of violence start broadcasting. "Wha- Zia? What happened to your hair? I mean, it looks nice, but…"

My brother trails off when I turn to face him, something in my face immediately unsettling him. "Your eyes…. Do we need to go to the emergency room?"

Last night, my eyes were brown, and considering I had a visual impairment, the sudden lack of pigmentation is a terrible sign from his perspective. And he wasn't entirely wrong because I could tell that my vision is notably worse since waking up and recalling my memories. I, however, know that this is merely an act of Fate, the price I paid to balance my power.

Fucking bullshit if you ask me. I think it's really just the mutual hate between us at this point since neither Death or Magic ever pulled this type of shit with me.

But again, we had more pressing matters to consider. "Kid, I need you to trust me and listen very very closely."

Altair freezes before approaching carefully, like he's afraid of triggering disaster by walking too loudly. "Artemizia, what's going on?"

My thoughts swirl as plans begin to form. The first thing I need is a trustworthy ally. "I need you to go next door and grab Glenn."

Glenn is my neighbor and friend, an absolute cinnamon roll of a man going to college nearby in Atlanta. He is only twenty, but positivity and kindness makes him and his family excellent company. When I got divorced he and his parents had taken turns taking me grocery shopping every once in a while, knowing that, as a new mom who couldn't drive due to my visual impairment, I'd been struggling. They'd gone so far as to babysit and come to doctor appointments with me, showing a level of genuine kindness that is rarely found. In return, I helped Glenn with his girl problems and school papers whenever he stayed with his parents rather then in his dorm, and made sure he and his sisters ate more than PB & J's and ramen when his parents weren't home, meaning they were over for dinner and movie marathons more often than not. Overall, Glenn is someone I want at my back, someone I consider one of my people and I will keep him alive and well as long as possible.

Glenn… Rhee? Wait, that name… Oh shit, am I in the Walking Dead?! But, WD didn't have magic, so it can't be, right? But, my Glenn does seem like that Glenn from my past life memories… Holy fuck, didn't that guy get his eyeballs beaten out?! Fuck! Don't think of your friend getting violently murdered! Focus! 

I've been in alternate realities, but never one so different from "cannon". If this was the Walking Dead and not some other zombie apocalypse, then the rules of this universe were nothing like my memories of the series, few that I had. My head begins to throb in earnest as Altair stares, and I loathe the fear budding in his posture. "Glenn? I don't- ?"

"Go get him, Altair," I order darkly, my accent slipping out on his name. My baby brother leans away from me, disturbed, and I can tell he has very much noticed the difference between who I am now and who I was yesterday.

As he goes, I lean against my counter and try to figure out how my abilities work here. Sensing, foresight, and empathy were the main ones that followed me from life to life. That's where my strength lies, and so I close my eyes and reach, and reach, and reach, and right there, right where it always seems to be, somewhere deep in my chest, is the spark of power. Magic, Kai, Chakra, Ki; They were all technically and functionally a little different, but yet, much the same. Like greeting an old friend, the energy hums and buzzes in my veins, warm as always, my constant companion.

I pull on it gently, and a blazing blue flame appears above my fingertips, dancing easily. I flinch when I catch motion in front of me, cursing when the surprise has the flame flaring uncomfortably hot against my skin before I sharply cut off the flow of power. "The fuck?!"

I take a step back, but the floating... thing, follows me. I snarl, slipping into a defensive stance and squinting in alarm as I try to see it. "Is this… a.. notification message?!"

Something tickles at my mind, a memory of the time before my last life started, back when the gods had made their deal with me to come to this doomed universe to face off against zombies for shits and giggles. 

- Exasperated, I ask, "Will I still have my magic and gifts, as per normal?"

"Of course. Although, again, it will be different than anything you've experienced prior."-

I shake myself out of the memory. Different than anything I'd ever experienced before? I squint at the transparent box with words my eyesight is too poor to actually read. "Oh, for fuck's sake, is this a goddamn power leveling fantasy with a system?! Wait, what in the fucking shit balls am I to do with a system I can't even read?!"

I'm so very, very fucked.

My daughter's cries ring out and the instincts of this body has me striding to her room before I even register the sound. Ah, hell, a baby, a barely walking, nursing infant, in the gods damned apocalypse! Those fuckers started me on hard mode! This is bullshit!

I scoop my daughter up, a tiny little mini me, albeit with lighter hair and eyes from her father, but still. The thought brings to mind her deadbeat sperm donor, my husband of two years who I unhesitatingly threw out after he cheated on me, a memory that has me mentally patting my sealed and memoryless self on the back despite my shity choice in partner. But, then again, I hadn't had the ability to see into the future or read a soul at the time, so I couldn't blame past-me too much.

I glance at my child. "Should I warn daddy, sweet girl? Hmm? Even though he's a deadbeat who wants nothing to do with his daughter? Nah!" I snicker, deciding that I wouldn't go out of my way for the bastard. It wasn't because he cheated. I'm not that petty and this man is still my kid's father, after all, but my instincts say he is bad news and I shouldn't expose my abilities to someone like that. "Mama is gonna let him fend for himself and keep raising you on her own, just like this! Yay!"

"Sis? We're…. What the hell is that?" Altair asks, his voice cracking sharply as he points near me.

I whirl around sharply. "What?"

"Uh, I think he means the blue floating hologram thing?" Glenn squeeks, eyes huge as he leans through the door.

"Oh, sh- shoot, y'all can see it too?!" I sputter, quickly approaching them. "What's it say? Read it to me!"

Altair's voice is baffled and a little shaky. "It says, 'Welcome to the system! Congratulations for becoming this world's first player by being the first to activate the system before the Tutorial. You have been granted the title of Pioneer and will be awarded 5000 EXP, 50000 coins, and 100 stat points.' Um, there is more. It says, 'You have created the skill Flame by manipulating Mana! You have received 10000 EXP! You have leveled up!' Mizy, what the hell-"

"Hush," I hiss. "Let me think. Uh… Status!"

I flinch as another box opens. "Settings! Did anything change?"

"No?" Glenn shakes his head, mystified and vaguely excited, the nerd. "But there is a settings button."

"We need to see if there is an accessibility setting thingy, because otherwise I'm doomed," I tell them frankly, watching Glenn try to press on the screen, but it seemed only I can interact with my system.

"You think the magic glowing box has accommodations for disabilities?" My brother isn't trying to be a dick, but his incredulous tone makes me whack him anyway.

"We're already in crazyville, brat. Nothing is impossible anymore so buck up and adapt because it's only gonna get wilder," I growl, pressing the location they tell me to. "Is it there?"

There are, in fact, accessibility settings.

We mess around with it until I can control the whole thing with only my mind, (-Holy shit, it's just like a futuristic VR MMO RPG!-), and a smooth, gentlemanly voice reads everything off to me on command. We even changed the contrast and enlarged the text a bit so that I can somewhat see it. "Damn, this is better than the accommodations they gave me in school. Alright. Your turn, you two."

To the two boys immense joy, they too have systems, but I'm not really surprised. I didn't think I'd be the only one to have one like some special snowflake shit. That'd be too easy, and it's not interesting to those asshats in the Beyond if I don't suffer a bit. Altair and Glenn become the next two players in the world and also receive the Pioneer title and rewards. 

I even manage to fumble around until I find Incognito Mode, the system's silky voice reading the information out in my head making me twitch a bit.

[Incognito Mode] makes it so that the player's status screen and interactions with the system will be unperceivable to others.

Warning! Players with certain skills may be able to see through [Incognito Mode].

I order the boys to turn on incognito mode as well, signing in relief since it means others won't be able to see or hear the system telling me my skills or stats. That would have been a massive issue especially considering my Status screen.

Name: Artemizia

Level: 3 [9000/10000 EXP]

Age: 25

Species: Human

Class: None

Title: Beloved Soul of the Originators, Reincarnator, Fate's Contractor, Pioneer

I take a second to hysterically giggle, because, oh my god, my business is just out there for anyone to see if they can get past Incognito Mode. Then I breathe deep and keep reading, the system's voice calmly narrating away in my ears as I briefly skim the titles.

(Divine) Beloved Soul of the Originators- The player is someone dear to at least one of the Originators, the primordial beings of all creation. As such, the Divine, existences of incomprehensible power that influence this word, will more easily find their attention drawn to the player that has endeared themselves to the Originators, curious to learn why the player is loved by such beings. They will have higher expectations of the player, and failing those expectations will have dire consequences, but succeeding may also offer greater rewards. Additionally, opportunities specific to those that bear this title may appear.

(Divine) Reincarnator- The player is no newbie at the game of life. As such, certain abilities will be easier to learn, obtain, and level up. Additionally, opportunities specific to those that bear this title may appear.

(Divine) Fate's Contractor- The ability to influence the domain of an Originator, a primordial being of all creation, Fate, comes at a heavy price. In order to maintain the Balance and Natural Order, the player will lose 75% of their vision permanently. No buffs or skills will be able to alter this. Due to the player's blatant disregard of Fate and strained relationship with the corresponding Originator, Divine entities of Fate, existences of incomprehensible power that influence this word, will automatically view the player with varying levels of hostility. Additionally, opportunities specific to those that bear this title may appear.

(Mythical) Pioneer- The player gained access to the system before the Tutorial began, and has therefore distinguished themselves. As such, certain opportunities specific to those that bear this title may appear.

I tilt my head as I examine that last bit, tuning out Glenn and Altair as they lose their shit over their own status windows. Fate's Contractor was a total pain. It seems like Fate, that bitch, is, as always, making things difficult with what essentially amounted to a divine curse. Although, I do have to admit to being slightly amused to see it written out on the screen like a debuff. 

HP: 100/100

MP: 190/200

Coins: 50000

Health and Mana, the latter of which is needed to use skills, this world's magic. Damn, it really is just like a game.

Stats (112 Available)

Strength: 9

Agility: 11

Vitality: 10

Intelligence: 20

Wisdom: 18

Luck: 10

I raise my eyebrows, curious. In this life I had been… normal. Without my memories, I hadn't spent every moment anticipating some catastrophe. There had been no looming threat. I'd been a relatively healthy new mom. My stats were lame, understandably so. The real shock was my wisdom and intelligence. I'm assuming that they're only so high because of my reincarnator status. Wisdom, which included knowledge, logic, and creativity, were raised due to my past life. Intelligence, despite its name, actually correlates to MP and each level grants 6 stat points.

Considering it, I decide to raise all my stats by 10, but leave it after that for now in case I run into a tough enemy and need them, something Glenn and Altair do as well. I breathe a little easier as my HP and MP goes up

HP: 200/200

MP: 290/300

Coins: 50000

Active Skills:

(Divine) Eye of Time lvl 1- This skill, gifted to the chosen few beloved by the Originator, the primordial beings of all of creation, allows the player to see into the past, present, and possible futures through visions. (Cost: 20 MP per sec) (Cooldown: 1 hr)

(Common) Flame lvl 1: The player can manifest a small flame in their palms. (Cost: 10 MP per sec) (Cooldown: 5 min)

Passive Skill:

(Divine) Eye of Souls lvl 1- Due to the player's connection to a certain Originator, one of three beings of all creation, they have been blessed with the ability to see, feel, and communicate with souls, both living and dead. (Current range: 10 feet.)

(Unique) Sensing lvl 1- A passive skill that allows the player the ability to detect any physical thing within range, like a form of radar or echolocation. (Current range: 10 feet.)

(Unique) Empathy lvl 1- The player can detect the strong emotions of those around them. (Current range: 10 feet.)

(Common) Mana Manipulation lvl 1: The player can influence the flow of Mana. (Current range: 3 feet.)

I blink. Yeah, that tracks. So far, these skills were all ones that correspond with my soul's inherent traits. Poor, Common, Rare, Unique, Legendary, Mythical, and Divine were the rankings, so I'm already sitting pretty even without any real offensive skills at the moment. It felt a bit like cheating to start off with badass skills, but I had to have those skills simply because they were a part of me that couldn't be removed without ripping my soul apart, and frankly, I didn't give a shit if it was unfair.

"Mizy! I've got a unique skill, Float! I can fly!" Altair crows, promptly levitating off the ground and aimlessly bumping into the ceiling like a wayward balloon.

I snort. "It's very slow, so you'll have to be careful when using it to escape until you raise the level, but useful."

Glenn gapes, wide eyed. "I got the unique skill Item Box?"

My head whips to him and my expression must be too intense because he actually takes a step back. "Then you might be the key to our survival."

Alrair comes crashing onto my bed with a yelp in his surprise. "Alright. Seriously, Artemizia. What's going on?! And why the hell do you look like that?!"

I grimace, holding my daughter closer as I realize that there really isn't a good way to start this conversation. "The apocalypse is starting- No, don't make that face, I'm being dead serious. I've got a Divine skill, don't ask. The dead are going to rise, people are going to do horrendous, vile things, and we'll enter a new age where power defines all. We need to prepare." I give them only a moment to let the horror sink in before turning to my friend. "Glenn, I know your family is out and that I can trust you to have my back, so I'm asking if you want to join our survival party."

Glenn stares, and through Empathy, I can feel as the fear starts to set in. To these two, who didn't have my experience with utter chaos and insanity, none of this can be easy to accept, and yet, I couldn't sense any real doubt from either of them, but I suppose the system has made even the wildest things seem possible, and I'd never been the type to joke about such things. 

"My parents-"

"-won't make it back in time for the start, and trying would get them killed. Ours too, Tai, but we'll still try to meet up with them," I interrupt, pained as Glenn and my brother's faces crumples. "I think we can survive together, though. Are you in?"

Glenn nods slowly, hesitancy shifting to determination, all registered through [Empathy]. "I'm in. But, you know Riley stayed home with me this weekend, right?"

I curse, having not known that. Riley is Glenn's little sister of 14, meaning we'd have yet another child to watch after, but it is what it is. I nod grimly, glancing at my own kids. "We'll protect them all. Let's begin."

XXXXXXXXXX

The following shopping spree was interesting. We stayed out of Atlanta where Glenn usually lived when attending college, and around Macon, but people were acting slightly tense from the reports of unexplainable, aggressive behavior and illness, but it is still mostly normal since things weren't really popping off yet. We bought as much water, non-perishables, baby formula, and medical things as possible. We bought weapons, a few guns and ammo since Georgia only requires a background check, not a license or permit, (-What the fuck, Georgia?!-), but mostly we bought blades. I got a set of twin blades, my favored choice of weapon, and a longer sword for Altair while Glenn favored simple baseball bats and Riley, his younger sister, got a whole ass polearm. The glaive was fucking taller then any of us, but, while decently heavy, it gave her the range she needed to keeper walkers away from her thin, fragile limbs. 

And the wide smile on her face when she nearly sent her brother sprawling with it was adorable.

There were also crossbows and arrows purchased as well as smaller Swiss Army knives and daggers. I'm sure the shop owners were very confused by a lady with a baby, a barely 20 year old and some teens looking like they were going to war, but whatever.

Then we bought miscellaneous shit I thought would be useful, like special blankets, long range walkie talkies and radios, some camping stuff, a water purifier, and books on all types of useful shit like edible plants, medicinal herbs, and how to books on shit like farming, black smithing, and civil engineering in case we had to rebuild civilization. 

Lastly, I spent my savings on a badass RV with solar panels. The thing is fucking huge and like a whole ass house inside, sleeping 10 people and requiring a deposit that basically cleared out my saving built from some generational wealth, years as an investor at my father's knee, and taking my rich ex to the cleaners during the divorce, but then again, I'd never have to pay it off since the world is fucking ending.

Your preparation for the upcoming trials has been noted. You have gained +3 Wisdom!

"Cool," I mutter. "I just got Wisdom."

"Me, too. And my Item Box has leveled up." Glen murmurs, his hand on Riley's shoulders. The sweet girl, only 14, is taking things a bit harder than Altair, but she is still a champ, diligently practicing her own Unique skill, Flash Step, which gives her the ability to move in short bursts of distance and speed.

"Good. Keep using it as much as possible. Frankly, if people see how much supplies we have and get greedy before we're strong enough, we're done for," I tell them, back in my living room as I unsheathed my swords, ordering my dogs to stay out of my way. I close my eyes, trying to center myself before stepping into a deeply familiar stance and moving through each kata like flowing water, swords slicing gently through air. This body didn't know my fighting style, one perfected after centuries, but I still instinctively know how to move. I murmur, eyes shut in concentration as I continue, "Don't assume people will keep their morals with their lives on the line."

I swirl through the moves, slow at first, but picking up speed as I correct myself and dance across the floor. I finish the run through and hold it, breathing deep as my muscles ache a little, but it feels good. 

Ding!

I twitch at the sudden noise in my head.

[Congratulations! You have learned the passive skill, (Mythical) Otherworldly Sword Dancer as a result of the Title: Reincarnator! You have received 10000 EXP!

You have leveled up!

(Mythical) Otherworldly Sword Dancer lvl 1: A sword martial art performed and perfected across many different realms, created by a reincarnator beloved by the Originators of creation. This combat style which relies on smooth flowing movements, swift dodging, sharp counters, acrobatics, and using the opponents abilities against them, is one that, when mastered, can cut down even the strongest opponents.]

I snort, because the reincarnator who created the skill was me in the first damn place, noting that unlike the other passive skills, there was no range, I guess because it was a physical style, perhaps. It made the benefits of the skill seem kind of unimpressive if you didn't know just how lethal it was. I swing my swords a few times and frown at the lacking power, the dullness to the strike, the missing bite of the steel, deciding that it could only be fixed when the skill leveled up. I startle when I note the gaping audience I forgot was still here. "… It's a skill I have."

"… Right." My brother says suspiciously. "Nevermind that I've never seen you even touch a sword."

I shrug. I'd explain to my brother eventually, but I didn't want to tell Glenn and Riley just yet, if ever.

Just like the others, I'd been trying to level up my skills, particularly my Eye of Time to gather information through visions. Having a vision was essentially day dreaming. I'd blink and find myself in a different place and time, disembodied and floating. 

More accurately, it was like having a nightmare. It wasn't just zombies coming, no, but also creatures and monsters seen in fantasy, something I had no explanation for since it wasn't at all like the Walking Dead I am familiar with. It's like a poorly written story that doesn't explain the logic of how everything got so shitty in the first place. I shove my wandering thoughts away as I recall that the phone lines are going down soon and I have a few warnings to give out to my people.

"We need to make our final calls. Power won't stay on much longer," I tell them seriously and the mood plummets. Things were about to get rough.

I notice the fear and grief and touch my brother's fluffy hair, pulling his head to rest on my shoulder, the kid already taller than me. "It will be okay."

"Will it?" He asks, big hazel eyes peering at me from behind his bangs and I hum, ruffling his hair.

"Of course. We've still got each other after all."

XXXXXXXXXX

AN; That took way too fucking long to edit. Ugh. Well, tell me your thoughts and anything you might like to see, or skill suggestions for everyone, especially our favorite characters.