Pawn of the Gods

Elias lay in the clearing like a forgotten body, sunlight tracing golden lines along his tanned, healthy skin, now stained with blood. His brown eyes opened slowly, confusion clouding them, thicker than the stifling forest air.

He blinked, once, twice, his thoughts swirling like leaves in the wind, out of reach.

He felt the pain before seeing the wound. On his left arm, teeth marks carved into the flesh told a story he didn't want to believe.

The bite was deep, uneven, and around it, the skin was swollen, the dark tone spreading like ink on dry paper. Elias took a deep breath, but the pain itself seemed to pierce through his lungs like a dull blade.

He tried to move, but his muscles seemed to resist.

His short, disheveled hair stuck to his forehead, mingling sweat and grime. Each movement made the dry leaves beneath him crackle, a harsh reminder that he wasn't safe.

"Wanderers," he murmured, his voice hoarse, as though he hadn't spoken in ages. The word felt unreal, a fragmented nightmare surfacing. But the pain was real. The blood was real. And the world around him… too quiet.

Elias looked up, the tree canopies forming a living labyrinth against the sky. The air smelled of damp earth and wood, but the metallic taste of blood in his mouth overwhelmed his senses.

He closed his eyes, trying to grasp any memory that could explain how he had ended up there.

Realizing it was impossible to understand or explain the strange phenomenon, Elias closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and struggled to stand.

Each movement was a battle against his aching body and a world that insisted on spinning around him.

"If I don't get out of here, I'll end up as easy prey for whatever or whoever shows up," he murmured in a raspy voice.

As if waiting for Elias to move, a scream echoed in the distance, tearing through the oppressive silence of the forest. "Is anyone there? Help!"

Elias froze. A chill ran down his spine. The voice didn't just sound desperate—it was getting closer.

He knew that contact with a stranger could be dangerous, but he was too weak to hide.

His legs barely held him up, and dizziness made the world sway. Trying to keep his balance, he turned his face toward a sound coming from the left. Footsteps on the grass.

A young man emerged from the trees. He was overweight, wearing dark glasses, with long, unkempt hair, a wrinkled plaid shirt, and long pants that seemed out of place in the dense forest. He wore a carefree smile, a stark contrast to the chaos around him.

"Hey, can you explain to me what's going on?" the man asked, as if the world wasn't completely falling apart.

Elias narrowed his eyes, his features hardening and his posture defensive. "What do you want? Why did you bring me to this place?"

The man raised his hands slowly, trying to show he wasn't a threat. "Relax, man. I'm just as confused as you. I don't want to scare you or anything like that."

Elias, reluctant, eased his stance, deciding it was best to listen for now. "My name is Elias. I was here trying to figure out what happened when…"

He briefly recounted his situation, highlighting the bite and the hazy events that had led him to the clearing.

The man listened attentively, but when Elias finished, he let out a nervous laugh. "Wait… Is this some kind of prank? If it is, congratulations. You drugged me, dumped me in a forest, and now I'm hearing an apocalypse survivor tell his story. Who's filming?"

Elias frowned, confused. "What do you mean, a prank? Are you talking about those TV comedy shows? And what are zombies?"

The man paused, realizing Elias was serious, and replied with a touch of incredulity: "Zombies… you know, the undead. Creatures that show up in movies, rise from their graves, that kind of thing. My name's Arthur, but my friends call me Art. Let me sum up my situation: I was at the hospital with a friend who'd been in a motorcycle accident, and out of nowhere, there was an explosion. Everything froze for a moment, and I woke up here."

Elias stammered, trying to organize his thoughts. "Where I come from, we call those things 'Wanderers.'"

Art tilted his head, intrigued. "Like in that series where the dead are called Walkers?"

"Don't know what you're talking about." Elias closed his eyes for a moment, as if rearranging his thoughts. "Maybe… maybe we're from parallel worlds. In mine, there's a scientific theory proposing the existence of multiple universes, each with small or massive differences."

Art rolled his eyes, clearly skeptical. "Right... Or maybe this really is some kind of prank. They took a superhero movie script and decided to use it on us."

The provocation was the last straw. Without warning, Elias stepped forward and punched Art in the face, sending his glasses flying.

He shoved him to the ground, pinning him down with surprising speed, and delivered two more punches before stopping.

"How about now? Does this feel like a dream to you? A TV show?" Elias spat the words, his eyes blazing with anger. "I've just had the worst day of my life. I'm about to die, and you're here joking about it."

Art's face was bloodied, his lips split. Coughing blood, he muttered, now terrified, "You said 'about to die'? What do you mean by that?"

Elias stood up slowly, breathing heavily, and looked at the bite on his arm. "This isn't a dream. And if you don't start taking it seriously, you're going to die too."

Calmly, Elias explained, "I was bitten. I've lost track of time because of this phenomenon… but I think I have a day left, maybe."

As soon as he finished speaking, Art began murmuring disconnected words in a calm tone.

"Status… System… Panel…"

Frowning, Elias asked, "What are you doing?"

Art's eyes widened, disbelief evident on his face. "I did it... It works! Elias, say the word 'Panel' out loud!"

Though confused, Elias decided to follow the instruction. "Panel," he murmured.

A sharp sound echoed in his mind, like the strike of a metallic bell. Suddenly, a blue panel glowed before his eyes, filled with information.

Stunned, Elias raised his hand, trying to touch it, but discovered it wasn't physical, only visible. He patted his own face, searching for something to explain the phenomenon.

Turning to Art, he asked seriously, "What is this? This… panel?"

Art, with a satisfied smile, explained, "It's a long story. In my world, this shows up all the time in fantasy stories. In situations like ours, this kind of feature usually exists. Think of it as an extremely realistic game."

"A game?" Elias murmured, frowning, before turning his attention back to the strange panel. He began analyzing the displayed information, trying to understand what it really meant.

Elias Moureau

Origin Universe: Earth:K-283

Level: 1

Experience Points: 0 / 100

Age: 30

Appearance: Tanned skin, dark hair, brown eyes.

Species: Human

Status: Sick (Infected with the Zombie Virus)

Attributes:

Health (HP) 90/100

Mana (MP) 00

Strength 10

Agility 10

Wisdom 10

Magic 10

Special Skills:

Mixed Martial Arts (MMA ) 1 / 10

Versatility 1 / 10

Mental Resilience 2 / 10

Physical Resilience 1 / 10

Marksmanship 3 / 10

Diagnosis 1 / 10

Inventory:

Bayonet (Rank: F)

"What a strange feature, how…" Elias's sentence was interrupted when a robotic voice echoed in his mind, cold and precise.

"Congratulations on discovering the panel in the neutral zone. Reward: 1 attribute point."

Elias felt a slight tingling as he heard the message. Instinctively, he focused his mind on the idea of improving his physical resilience and assigned the newly earned point there.

Immediately, a sensation of vigor coursed through his body, as if his strength had been slightly renewed.

The effect sparked a glimmer of hope in him. "If I can raise my physical resilience before the infection consumes me… maybe I can resist the transformation."

Elias turned to Art, urgently explaining his theory. "Art, I don't want to die. I'm going to try leveling up and focus all my energy on increasing my resilience. It might be my only chance."

Art, despite his bloodied face, smiled with a touch of irony and replied in a voice filled with exaggerated grandeur, "Ah, Elias, my noble aggressor… Despite your recent lack of manners, as a man of virtuous heart, I've decided to forgive your rudeness. Of course, I'll help you."

Even amidst the light words, there was a spark of genuine determination in Art's eyes.

Together, the two prepared to face a fate as strange as it was cruel, where every decision seemed to be a battle against the impossible.

They walked eastward, moving cautiously through the dense forest that seemed to envelop the world around them.

The landscape resembled a tundra, marked by twisted trees and biting cold that gnawed at their skin.

Elias, clad in paramilitary gear, moved efficiently, while Art, dressed only in casual clothes, shivered with each gust of icy wind.

"A fur coat would be great for me, don't you think, my dear friend?" Art joked, trying to ease the discomfort with humor.

Elias let out a short laugh and replied sarcastically, "You're fat; you're already equipped for this weather with all that insulation."

Art raised an eyebrow, irritated but forcing a smile. "You know, I doubt you had many friends with your acid politeness."

Elias didn't let it slide. "Never needed many friends. I'm not a fan of fake people or cheap talk. When someone like you annoys me, my policy is simple: I tell them to go screw themselves. But since I need you now, I'll endure your comments."

Art rolled his eyes and shook his head, but the two continued walking.

After some time wandering through shadowy trees and uncertain trails, they finally spotted a river snaking through the forest.

A wave of relief washed over both, and exchanging a victorious smile, they quickened their pace toward the bank. The icy water reflected the overcast sky, a potential path to civilization.

However, they were unaware that they were being watched. Hidden in the shadows of a rocky outcrop, a creature observed them, its eyes gleaming unnaturally. It waited for the right moment to strike.