Apocalypse Reset: My Crab Can Heal the World!

When Barns returns to Dimartino, it's with a new ally - and quite the story to tell about the maniacal Corpsie. Thankfully, whether because it can't or doesn't want to, the Zombie Lord doesn't show up within the boundaries of the kingdom.

Francois, the reconstituted vampire mistress, claims a secluded corner of the ruined castle as her domain.

"I will of course be back and forth with the Pale Court. There are still a hundred humans I must take care of," she says with a sly smile, one fang peeking out. "Poor things. Under my thrall, but I've grown rather fond of them."

Barns nods, though he's still wary. Francois might be an ally for now, but she's unpredictable.

As she probes about the castle, Barns sets about to see his other duties to completion.

'First thing's first,' he tells himself. 'I need to catch up with Absalom.'

He finds Absalom near the edge of the old courtyard, overlooking the towering statue of Clancy. The air is still, and scattered fog clings to the air. Eldrie stands nearby, having just informed Absalom of the broad strokes of their encounter with Corpsie.

"You found Corpsie, then?" Absalom says without turning.

Barns joins him, arms crossed. "Saw, fought, barely survived. It's not like any zombie I've ever seen."

"It's not like any…undead anyone's seen. Not even the Emperor…could have foreseen…" 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

"What did Eldrie tell you about it?"

"Only that…you saw…his true power."

"Yeah," Barns says quietly. "I've never seen anything move like that. It swapped bodies mid-fight. Spoke in riddles. Wasn't even trying to win. Just…to play. At least, that's how it seemed."

Absalom finally turns to him, his voice softer but still grating and full of death. "Corpsie is…happy in his undeath."

"I should report to the others," Eldrie says, his eyes darting from Barns to Absalom. "You two can finish up here, yeah? Excuse me…"

Eldrie performed a solemn salute and left the two to continue their conversation. As he trots away, Barns watches him in quiet contemplation.

Barns exhales. "I think I have a plan, Absalom. But…you have to tell me if it's crazy or not."

Absalom shudders in the wind, his frail body almost knocking over from a strong gust. "I…shall hear it…"

"It got through the barrier. I don't know how - but all of us need to be ready. I talked it over with Francois, and here's what I think we should do. If Corpsie ever appears inside the barrier - anywhere - my plan is to have all Adventurers, Police, whatever - surround it immediately. Don't engage, just keep eyes on it. Don't let it escape. Someone calls for backup. Priority one becomes neutralizing it and keeping eyes on that spacesuit.

"You think…the suit is a magical item…?"

"I think it's more than that. It let him touch the barrier. He didn't melt like the other undead. Even switching back and forth between bodies was possible with that suit. Absalom…maybe it's crazy, but I think Corpsie isn't a zombie at all. I think it IS the suit."

Absalom gives a slow nod. "A…interesting idea...it would mean that Corpsie is undead, but not a zombie at all…more like a possession. A ghost."

"Be careful," Absalom warns. "He's not alone. He never is. A mind like that… it breaks, and in the breaking, something else moves in."

Barns doesn't ask what. He doesn't want to know.

"If that's true, it'd be a shame," Barns thinks to himself. "We had someone in Dimartino who was something of a 'ghost expert' once. But she's long gone…"

His mind flickers. Memories of Haima - the good, and the bad.

Absalom sighs and leans over the railing, watching the streets. "When I first came back to the living…I didn't think I'd be here for long. I thought I'd vanish into the night…be forgotten. But now… seeing you fight, hearing the way you talk, knowing how you plan…you will change the world, Barns."

"I used to think that too," Barns mutters. "But now, I'll be happy to just save the piece we've got."

Just then, Osmond and Maria approach from the castle steps. Osmond is unusually solemn, fingers clasped behind his back, horns casting long shadows in the mist. Maria wears a curious expression - neither confrontational nor submissive, just watching.

"Barns. A word?" Osmond says, overly formal and polite.

Barns nods, raising an eyebrow as he joins them both. They walk together toward the ruined balcony at the castle's edge. The view overlooks the whole of Dimartino.

"I've been thinking," Osmond begins. "About the horde. About our options."

"So have I. And I'm not liking any of them. Don't even get me started on the day Eldrie and I had…"

"Osmond had a great idea, you should listen to him."

Maria speaks with a certain curtness that makes Barns nervous. Something about the way they're both acting seems off-character. Like whatever their plan is, they know he won't like it.

"There is a way to handle the horde even as large as it is," Osmond says. "One that frightens even me. But I believe it can work, Barnie. If you really consider it."

Barns narrows his eyes. "Why are you both acting so mysterious? Get to the point."

"Well, Barns, as you know, I am able to turn humans into monsters and exert no small measure of control over them…"

"Yeah?"

Osmond and Maria exchange a hesitant look.

"My idea," he continues, "Is to take the citizens of Dimartino - everyone who can't fight normally…and turn them into monsters."

Barns' eyes open wide in shock.

Osmond remains calm. "I lead them out of the barrier. I transform them. Every civilian. Every craftsman. I give them forms capable of fighting the horde. They fight alongside our police and Adventurers - the people who are more than capable of holding their own."

Barns glares. "And then what? We lose half the population and pray we can fix them afterward?"

"No," Osmond replies. "We use Clancy's barrier. It cleanses evil, right? It can turn them back. The zombies will defend themselves from monsters, but they won't eat them. Our casualties would likely be minimal."

Maria folds her arms. "We want to turn every single person in Dimartino into a weapon. Yes, Barns. It sounds like a horror story. But if we want to actually defeat a horde that size, it's our only option."

Osmond meets her gaze. "Yes, my dove speaks true. It's survival."

Barns runs a hand down his face. "This isn't a few test mice. You're talking about a city."

Maria looks to Barns. "It's dangerous," she admits. "But you're the one who insisted this is the path we take, and this is the solution we've devised."

"I don't want to lose anyone else. I don't want to force anyone to fight who doesn't want to."

"Then let them decide," Osmond says. "We offer it. We don't impose. Let them choose to become warriors. To become monsters, if it means saving everyone else. We can get the word out to all people of Dimartino and Ordella."

Barns doesn't speak for a long time.

"I've lost friends," he finally says. "Too many. Every time I make one of these decisions, it's like I'm gambling with their lives."

He thinks of Yunie, who he lost to the vampires - and to Clancy, lost to Nazakiel. But it isn't just them - there have been other deaths. And others, like Haima, who've been lost in other ways…

"Allow the people the chance to volunteer. That's all we ask."

Barns gulps. It's not a decision he ever thought he'd have to make.

"If the people agree, we go forward. If…if this is the way they want to contribute, I can't say no. Even if I hate the concept."

Maria sighs, leaning against the crumbling stone. "Then I guess we have our answer, Osmond."

Osmond bows slightly. Maria just nods, her eyes heavy.

Far beyond Dimartino, beyond the veil of Clancy's glowing barrier, a vast congregation of the dead gathers.

Thirty thousand strong.

Zombies as far as the eye can see - lurching, twitching, standing at unnatural attention. The moans have ceased. The shuffling stopped. They wait.

And among the trees nearby, two Sentinels observe.

Franzel Ahrman crouches in a nest of moss and bark, scribbling furiously into his notebook with a charcoal stylus. The Bloodhound beside him sniffs the wind.

"Incredible," Franzel whispers. "Just incredible. The structure, the layering. This is a living seal. An ancient defense system turned holy. But there's a flaw. There's always a flaw."

The Bloodhound's voice is gravel. "I can't track the Corpsie. It's switched bodies a few times."

"Good!" Franzel grins, eyes wide. "Means he's learning. Means he's adapting. Means he might not be so useless to our plan after all."

He closes his book and rises to his feet. The air is thick with rot, even from this distance. The horde's scent rides the breeze like a living entity.

"They're dormant for now," Bloodhound mutters. "But even active, they're little use against this barrier."

Franzel's fingers twitch excitedly. "Exactly why I need to find a way into the barrier."