Apocalypse Reset: My Crab Can Heal the World!

The silence is striking.

The battlefield should be groaning - zombies should still be clawing at the earth, dragging themselves forward, driven by some dark, unholy instinct. But there’s nothing.

Osmond stands in the crater he left behind, panting, violet energy still rippling over his skin. His chest rises and falls unevenly. His fingers twitch. The cracks over his body, the ones that flicker when he fights - they still glow like embers, pulsing wildly, erratically.

He overdid it - at least a little bit. Normally he can dispel his magic after he’s finished fighting, but his body is overwhelmed.

He grips his staff tighter, his whole body shaking.

Maria steps up beside him, her heels clicking softly against the dead ground. She eyes the destruction, completely unfazed. A ruined stretch of land that used to be a battlefield now looks like the surface of a distant planet - warped, scorched, carved apart by the forces of two opposing Lords.

She doesn’t say anything at first. Just watches him.

He exhales sharply. "What?"

She crosses her arms, tossing her hair back. "What, indeed? I’m not allowed to be worried about my boyfriend?"

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Osmond closes his eyes, centering himself. The excess energy is a problem. He can feel the magic coiling inside him, demanding more, demanding that he keeps going. But there’s no more enemy left. Nothing left to fight.

If he doesn’t suppress it, his body might actually tear itself apart.

"...I’m fine, my dove," he says, more to convince himself than anyone else. "Just… trying some new things out."

Maria’s eyes flick up to the sky, where the last wisps of violet and green magic still churn - a swirling scar left behind in the atmosphere like an aurora of unholiness.

"Well," she hums, smirking. "That’s new."

The rest of the battlefield is eerily still. The hordes of zombies that weren’t incinerated have collapsed into lifeless piles, their rotted flesh eaten away by Clancy’s foam.

The trenches are overflowing, the corpses of thousands of undead piled atop one another, bubbling and purified.

It smells like hell - literally. Rotting death, burning decay, foam still sizzling over disintegrating limbs. Even the air is heavy, thick with a foul, necrotic miasma.

Barns tightens his grip on his belt, taking slow steps forward through the graveyard they’ve created.

"Holy hell," he mutters.

Clancy scuttles about, making sure to foam any stragglers as Barns prepares the Resurrection.

Eldrie lands beside him, stepping down from his perch, bow still in hand. His crimson eye flickers dimly - the remnants of his vampiric sight still reacting to the undead energy hanging in the air.

"It’s over," Eldrie states, voice measured, but Barns can hear the unease beneath it. He’s scanning the bodies, making sure. Because if even one of these things twitches, he’s putting an arrow straight through its skull.

"You alright?" Barns asks.

Eldrie exhales. "...I should be asking you that. I got to sit in a tree the whole time."

Barns huffs a laugh. "I’m always alright. I am the legendary hero, after all."

…

On the left flank, Underhill flicks his cane clean, letting the last bits of zombie rot splatter to the ground.

"I see why it’s better to leave this to the Adventurers," he mutters, rolling his shoulders. "Well, then."

Maria turns to him. "Surprised you even came."

"Oh, I thought about staying," Underhill grins. "Not exactly police business, but now that our little murder investigation is solved, I figured I’d give myself the day off. Not that this was a day of R&R."

Barns is wandering nearby, checking on the corpses to make sure they’ve been purified. He overhears Underhill, smirks, but doesn’t argue.

For someone so shady, Underhill’s become a reliable ally - and someone Barns values greatly. He almost regrets not trusting the guy outright from the beginning.

Almost.

Further out, on the right flank, Roscoe and Godrick descend the hill, their job complete. Roscoe is covered in sweat, but there’s a light in his eyes - his first battle, and he survived. Not only that, but he kept up with some of the greats, like Godrick and Skado.

It’s the confidence boost Roscoe needed. He can be a warrior. He can make a difference to Dimartino.

Barns watches him approach, grinning.

"Well?" he calls out. "How’d it go?"

Roscoe wipes his forehead. "Exhausting. We fought a Boneball! Or was it a Bonecrawler…?"

Barns claps him on the back. "Well, I didn’t think you’d be fighting, my man - but you did a hell of a job. You should be proud."

The younger warrior smiles through the nerves, but Barns can tell he’s already replaying everything in his head - mentally breaking down his performance, looking for ways to improve.

He’s got the fire, alright.

They all do.

The entire battlefield is now quiet, the dust settling. Barns cracks his knuckles, moments away from the Resurrection.

Osmond finally walks toward the rest of them, a little slower than usual, clearly spent.

Barns raises an eyebrow. "Good show, my man. You’re going to have to teach me how to fly around like that."

Osmond runs a hand through his disheveled hair, his flesh still sparking faintly. "I’d like to see you try."

Barns exhales, hands on his hips.

"So. That’s it, then. The Kingdom of Dimartino adds another notch to its belt."

They all look out over the field - the bodies, the devastation, the absolute victory. Not a single casualty - just the way Barns likes it. Of course, as long as it was a relatively minor death, he’d be able to undo it with the Resurrection.

And in that moment, Barns hears a familiar ding—a System Notification appearing in front of his vision.

His breath catches.

He’s leveled up some more.

[Name: Barnacles

Species: Human (Irregular)

Level: 10 (260/1400)

Strength: 17

Vitality: 17

Agility: 18

Intellect: 15

Control: 10

Charisma: 19

Luck: 20]

Seems that everything has increased except his Intellect and his Luck - but he knows from his Leveling Guide that Luck is a fixed number. Nothing he can do about it.

"Alright, everyone," he says to his gathered allies. Clancy gives him the ’good to go’ sign from across the battlefield.

"Here goes…Resurrection!"

[Progress: 28923/1000000]

Barns stares at the screen for a long moment.

Then he smirks.

"Well. Looks like we’re getting somewhere."

And the people around him, once zombies, begin to rise from the ground. Reborn at last.