Multiverse Drift

After his first successful kill, Ethan didn't allow himself to feel overly triumphant. His mind was clear, there was still danger. The second zombie stood nearby, its stiff movements betraying its intention to make him its next meal.

Pulling his dagger free with a sharp tug, Ethan slashed again for good measure, severing the first zombie's head entirely. The rotting body made the task easier, its brittle bones offering little resistance. With the first threat neutralized, Ethan turned his attention to the remaining zombie.

"No head-on fighting," he muttered to himself.

Zombies might be slow and clumsy, but their strength was nothing to scoff at. Ethan's body, though healthier than in his previous life, was nowhere near strong enough to match a zombie's raw power in direct combat.

"Speed and agility, that's my edge. I need to attack from behind or the side. Anything but a frontal assault."

With his strategy settled, Ethan adjusted his grip on the dagger, his muscles tensing in anticipation. He charged forward, but just before reaching the zombie, he pivoted sharply, darting to its side. As he moved, he feigned a forward strike, baiting the zombie into reacting.

Despite its sluggish appearance, the zombie's reflexes weren't slow. Its clawed hands swung to the side with surprising speed, the force of the blow strong enough to create a faint whooshing sound as it cut through the air. If it had landed, Ethan had no doubt he would've been incapacitated immediately.

But Ethan was ready. His initial charge was a feint, designed to gauge the zombie's reaction. The moment it swung its arm, Ethan stopped his forward momentum, sidestepped, and darted to a spot just outside its reach. Now positioned at its side, he raised the small shield in his left hand and struck hard at the zombie's neck.

The shield slammed into its target with a dull crunch.

Ethan had noticed earlier that the neck was a weak point, and he was right. While the strike didn't fully decapitate the zombie, it severely damaged its neck, leaving it twisted at an unnatural angle. The injury disrupted the zombie's movements, making it even more sluggish than before.

"Now's my chance!"

Ethan didn't hesitate. He followed up with a precise thrust of his dagger, driving it into the zombie's head. The rotting flesh and fragile bone offered little resistance as the blade pierced its skull.

Just to be certain, Ethan struck again with his shield, smashing the zombie's head into an unrecognizable mess before stepping back to assess the situation.

Breathing heavily, he glanced around, scanning the area for any additional threats. Only after confirming that both zombies were fully incapacitated did he allow himself to relax.

"Two zombies down, and not a single scratch. I'll call that a perfect first battle."

Ethan gave himself a mental pat on the back, a small way of releasing the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

But he didn't stop there. He carefully replayed the fight in his mind, analyzing every movement and decision to refine his technique.

"When I was fully focused, it felt like I could see everything more clearly…"

Ethan wasn't sure, but he suspected this heightened awareness might be a side effect of his improved spiritual power. If that was the case, then even with his limited physical strength, he had a decent chance of holding his own—so long as he remained calm and focused.

"I'll need to test this theory in future fights," he decided.

With that thought, he sheathed his dagger, knelt down, and examined the two corpses.

"Do zombies… drop loot?" he wondered, half-jokingly.

Of course, this wasn't a game. The zombies' tattered clothing and decaying bodies yielded no treasure or equipment, much to Ethan's disappointment.

"If only it were that easy," he muttered. "If they actually dropped equipment, I could just hunt lone zombies and gear up in no time."

Shaking his head, he pushed the fantasy aside and focused on his primary objective—herb gathering.

Ethan quickly collected the herbs near the zombie corpses, then moved on. To stay safe, he carefully managed his distance from the Rogue camp. Whenever he ventured far enough to lose sight of it, he would backtrack slightly, ensuring he never strayed too far. He moved in a sweeping arc with the camp at its center, gradually expanding his search radius.

His approach was methodical. He searched for herbs, harvested them, and killed any lone zombies he encountered along the way. Over the course of half a day, he managed to collect several herbs and dispatched more than a dozen zombies.

Thankfully, he didn't run into any of the Quill Rats or Fallen he dreaded.

Quill Rats, in particular, were a nightmare for someone like Ethan. These creatures blended seamlessly into the grass and shadows, making them nearly impossible to spot before they attacked. Worse still, they were capable of launching surprise attacks from a distance, and Ethan's current skills and equipment were no match for such threats.

The Fallen were nothing to scoff at. They always operated in groups and were typically led by a Fallen Shaman capable of casting fireballs and resurrecting their fallen comrades. This made them doubly dangerous—both alive and dead. Their tendency to dart around erratically only made them harder to deal with, as they avoided direct confrontations and relied on speed and numbers to overwhelm their opponents.

Even trying to escape was risky. Fallen were incredibly fast, and anyone attempting to run would often be chased down and surrounded.

With Ethan's current strength, encountering even a small group of five Fallens would undoubtedly result in his demise.

So, when he ventured slightly farther than usual and spotted a group of red-skinned Fallens dancing and shouting around a bonfire in the distance, his decision was immediate. He turned and began retreating.

"I really am… unbelievably weak," Ethan muttered to himself, shaking his head.

In the game, even a level-one character could take out Fallens without much difficulty. But here, in this world, he didn't even have the qualifications to face them. The realization was both humbling and frustrating.

"If Akara had asked me to clean out the Den of Evil, I'd have no choice but to back out like a coward."

Moving cautiously, Ethan kept his movements controlled to avoid attracting the Fallens attention. At the same time, he observed the small camp they had set up.

"When I get back, I'll have to tell Kashya. She should send the Rogues to deal with these Fallen. They're too close to the camp. If they're allowed to grow stronger, it could lead to serious trouble…"

As he was thinking this, Ethan noticed something strange.

In the distance, a figure appeared. Before he could wonder if his eyes were playing tricks on him, the figure moved. One moment it was far away, and the next, a flash of light lit up the darkened sky. Suddenly, the figure was standing right outside the Fallen camp.

The figure—a woman, Ethan realized—raised a long staff. She waved it, and a massive fireball shot out, streaking toward the Fallens. The fireball exploded in their midst with a deafening roar, engulfing the entire group in a blaze of flames.

The brightness of the explosion lit up the night, and when the flames finally subsided, there was nothing left of the Fallens. The only one remaining in the camp was the woman, who now turned her gaze directly toward Ethan.

Ethan stiffened. Before he could even process what had just happened, another flash of light erupted, and the woman who had been standing far away was suddenly right in front of him.

"Hello," the woman said.

Ethan understood that.

"My name is Isendra," she added.

He understood that too.

"I'm a mage from the East. Is there a town nearby where I can find food and shelter?"

That, he didn't understand.

Ethan's response was simple. "Hi, my name is Ethan."

There was an awkward pause.

Isendra's expression shifted into a confused frown. Why wasn't this young man answering her question? Was he being cautious? Wary of her intentions? Or did he simply not understand her?

"I don't mean any harm," she said, her voice calm. "I just need a place to rest and buy some food."

Ethan still couldn't fully understand her, but he caught the word "food" and guessed the general meaning. In response, he pointed in the direction of the Rogue camp.

Isendra tilted her head, studying him. Was he showing her the way?

Ethan's decision to direct Isendra to the camp wasn't made lightly. He had recognized her almost immediately, despite her not introducing herself beyond her name.

Isendra was one of the original five character classes from Diablo 2, a mage who wielded the elemental powers of fire, ice, and lightning. While Ethan didn't know her backstory or real name, her appearance was unmistakable.

Her slightly dark skin, green leather-like armor that left much of her midriff exposed, a short black skirt, brown leather boots, and golden accessories, all of it matched perfectly with her in-game depiction. The staff she carried, while outwardly simple, radiated powerful magical energy that Ethan could feel even at a distance.

For a fleeting moment, he felt an irrational urge to take the staff for himself. The thought was so sudden and intrusive that it startled him. Recognizing this as a dangerous sign, Ethan immediately began practicing the meditation techniques the Ancient One had taught him, calming his restless thoughts.

Isendra noticed this.

"Oh?" she said, a hint of surprise in her tone. "A mage apprentice, are you? Weak, but you've got a solid will." Her gaze shifted to the herbs strapped to Ethan's back. "Collecting herbs, I see. Your teacher must specialize in potion-making. Take me to meet them. I have questions about the dense dark energy in this area."