“This is absurd,” Mark muttered.

  The Gamers were lying on the ground at the edge of the forest, looking into the battlefield where they had resurrected that very morning. The battlefield was completely flat, except for the hill that had protected them from the view of the other armies. That hill was now their guide to where the redhead had fallen—a couple of hundred yards to the south of the hill.

  The main problem was that the battlefield was filled with zombies. Tens of thousands. Hundreds of thousands. In some parts, they were so densely packed that they resembled a dark wave moving around.

  The second problem was that for some absurd reason, Genghis Khan’s Mongols were attacking the massive mass of zombies. Mark could see his name-tag:

  [Genghis Khan - Mongol Conqueror]

  [Founder of the biggest contiguous land empire in history, Genghis Khan united warring tribes through ruthless strategy and charismatic leadership. He reshaped the world with his innovations in warfare and governance. Feared and admired, he died undefeated. After his death, the Mongol Empire continued to expand, leaving a legacy that shaped nations.]

  And he could see from the distance how the Mongol general was organizing one cavalry charge after the other against the zombies; his Mongol riders carrying their saber in one hand and a torch in the other.

  It was terrifying, watching them move in the distance. Hundreds of small fires raced through the night, cutting through the mass of zombies for almost a minute. They trampled the dead with their horses, struck with sabers, loosed arrows—before retreating to the relative safety of the forest, and striking again from another angle. Always catching the zombies unprepared. After a few times, Mark realized that the Mongols were attacking strategically, and their changes of direction were keeping most of the zombies in the flat and unobstructed terrain of the battlefield.

  “Why are they doing this?” Tobias muttered.

  From time to time, some of the Mongols were dismounted, and their screams of pain and fear could reach them weakly, if the wind was in the right direction.

  “I’m pretty sure they’re grinding to level faster,” Mark answered.

  “That’s… not good.”

  “Not for us. No.”

  “So the whole thing of Levels and Classes was for real?” Wyatt asked, without taking his eyes off the battlefield. “I heard Johan explaining, but I assumed it was total bullshit.”

  “It’s for real,” Mark answered. “And we have a problem. We need to figure out how to get the book.”

  “Wait,” Gustav said. “You’re seriously thinking about trying to get the book? Are you crazy?”

  “We need the book. We cannot survive without it.”

  Mark knew that without the book, they were facing certain death. The difference in power between them and the rest of the armies was only going to grow bigger and bigger.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Gustav answered. “Can’t you see what’s in front of your eyes? There’s nothing to do. It’s impossible to find the guy in that crowd. Maybe we could recognize him in broad daylight, if he is a redhead. Maybe. But we cannot wait here. The zombies will find us. Or the Mongols. Or any other army around. There’s nothing to do.”

  “Yeah… Some battles cannot be won,” Emily added.

  “No,” Tobias said.

  “What?” Gustav asked.

  “He’s not… The zombies back there stopped when we hit them in the head.”

  “So?”

  “Does nobody else remember how the redhead was killed?”

  “Oh, no…” groaned Gustav. “I think you’re right…”

  “What? How was he killed?” Mark asked. It had happened while he and Arthur were fighting the two Mongol riders. Then he had a sudden, terrible realization, “Don’t tell me...”

  “Yeah. The arrow went straight to the head,” Tobias answered. “It was quite impressive, to be honest, considering the distance involved…”

  “So he is probably still truly dead?” Arthur said.

  “Probably. Yeah,” Tobias answered.

  Mark noticed the look of decision in his friend’s eyes, mixed with a little resignation.

  “So we’re going in?” Mark asked.

  “Yeah…” Arthur answered.

  “Well, fuck.”

  “Yeah…”

  It took them an hour to make a plan—a way to get the magic book that seemed like it might work. With a lot of luck.

  It wasn’t enough for most of the Gamers, who decided to go back to the camp and abandon the mission. They didn’t leave with empty hands, though. They had filled their holding bags with weapons from fallen soldiers around the forest. Some were from soldiers who had sustained head injuries too severe to resurrect. Other weapons were just lying on the ground, after their dead owners had walked away.

  There were no hard feelings. Arthur told them that he understood their decision, and let them go after ordering them not to get caught.

  “And take care of him,” he added, referring to the Gamer who had been cut in the face by the zombie.

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  There was some worry about the possibility that the zombies were infectious. So the other Gamers kept a little distance from him—although Tobias insisted the undead had to have appeared because of the crazy amount of corpses accumulated in the battlefield.

  And then eight Gamers remained.

  Mark. Arthur. Tobias. Emily.

  Wyatt and Jackson, still bickering about the possibility that all this had been done by a necromancer.

  Gustav, who had seen his old allies leave and decided not to join them.

  And a kid named Liam, barely sixteen years old. Who had taken a hatchet from a fallen soldier and seemed eager to try it.

  Eight Gamers. Eight brave souls who hadn’t slept in over twenty hours—who had been moving or running or risking their lives since their resurrection.

  Exhaustion was beginning to sink in, visible in the bags under their eyes and the intense focus of their expressions as they forced themselves to keep going.

  Eight Gamers who watched as the others disappeared into the forest until they were out of sight. Maybe wondering if they were making a mistake by not leaving with them.

  Eventually, Arthur looked at the few who had stayed.

  “Okay, everybody understands what they have to do?”

  Mark answered:

  “Gustav, Liam, and Wyatt will go to the right and shout to attract the attention of the zombies… Tobias, Jackson, and Emily will move to the left and shout from there, also attracting the attention of the zombies, and hopefully opening a path in the middle, towards the magic book. You and I will take advantage of the opening in the crowd of zombies, and run for the book. Then we’ll die in a gruesome manner, with horrible pain.”

  “Cool,” Arthur answered. “So everybody knows their part. Let’s move on. I’ll see you back here in twenty.”

  The redhead Gamer had died about a mile away from the treeline. So they expected to take ten minutes to arrive, and another ten minutes to get back.

  The Mongol riders? They had disappeared about half an hour before, the only trace that they had been there was a few terrified riderless horses galloping through the battlefield, desperately trying to avoid the slow but determined undead pursuing them.

  Hopefully, the Mongols wouldn’t come back to the battlefield.

  Hopefully, they wouldn’t listen to the shouts of the Gamers.

  Hopefully, they wouldn’t mess up their plans by arriving in the middle of it all.

  Hopefully.

  The plan is a fucking mess, let’s be honest, Mark thought.

  Mark had volunteered because his Skills—now fully replenished—might give him a higher chance of surviving. Also, he was almost sure that his Class [Kilser the Traitor] was helping him hone his instincts.

  Not that his survival was very likely, he thought while looking at the massive wave of zombies moving through the battlefield.

  His first idea had been to try to get the book alone—no point in risking anybody else’s life. But Arthur had refused to let him go alone. And after some arguing, they had decided to go together.

  They were now lying on the ground by the treeline, waiting for the others to get into place and start shouting to attract the zombies. Some undead had staggered out of the battlefield following the fleeing Mongols, but most of them had stayed in the battlefield, wandering around, bumping into each other.

  Arthur looked at Mark with some worry.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Mark shuddered a little. He’d been imagining getting near those walking corpses. The coagulated blood. The guts of some of them dragging along… it was going to be disgusting.

  “Yes, sure. It’s gonna be fun.”

  “You don’t have to do it if you don’t feel well,” Arthur said.

  Mark fidgeted a little to look at his friend. The ground was filled with little rocks, and some were digging into his elbows.

  “Where is this concern coming from? When have you stopped me from doing something dangerous and stupid?”

  “You know, I remember how you were when you died… Before this thing began,” he made a gesture encompassing the whole world. “I don’t want you getting all depressed again.”

  “So what? How does it work in your head? I see some zombies, and suddenly I get all depressed and suicidal?”

  Arthur looked uncomfortable.

  “I don’t… you know I’m not good with this shit. I’m just saying that if you don’t feel like it, you can sit this one out. I’ll go for the book alone. Or we’ll find another way. Or maybe we’ll just leave and forget about the book. Maybe the guys who left are right, and we should cut our losses before it’s too late.”

  Mark was mollified.

  “Nah. I’m fine. But thanks for asking.”

  Mark put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur smiled at him. And Mark smiled back and said:

  “The supervolcano turned you into a little bitch, didn’t it?”

  Arthur slapped Mark’s hand away.

  “You know what? Fuck you. Better keep up. And don’t kill yourself like last time.”

  Mark looked at him, astonished. The Gamers from the left had started shouting, getting the zombies’ attention. The Gamers from the right started doing the same.

  “So now I killed myself? That’s how you remember putting one bullet in my chest and another in my fucking head?”

  Arthur smiled. He seemed to love to have back the incessant bickering he had always had with Mark.

  “Yeah. I have been thinking about it, and you basically killed yourself. I was a little bit like those euthanasia pills of the government… I feel used, to be honest”

  “Yeah, there’s the suicide by cop, and suicide by Arthur. I’m sure Tito and his men were also using you to get rid of their earthly woes.”

  “Maybe? I didn’t discuss their mental well-being with them. But now that you say, I do remember seeing a little sadness in their eyes… You know, at least in the ones I didn’t kill from a distance… But even those did have a certain sadness in their stride…”

  “Do you seriously want a fucking apology from the guy you murdered?”

  “I’m not saying I would forgive you. But it would go a long way.”

  Mark made a gesture giving his friend for impossible.

  The zombies were moving to the sides. Some of them got confused and moved from one shouting to the other. But the zombies were mostly doing their part.

  This could actually work, Mark thought.

  They would have to run while changing directions a little—to avoid the undead stragglers—and it would be a little tighter than they had hoped. But the plan was kind of working.

  Mark and Arthur got up from the ground. Mark felt a little relief by brushing off all the little stones stuck to his body. There were still a few minutes to go, and Mark started jumping a little, moving his arms. His heart was beating fast. His senses heightened. He kind of wanted to jump in and start running, to get over the wait.

  “So…” Mark said, changing the subject, trying to distract himself, “you spend the apocalypse in a rampage, hunting your enemies by day, and fucking beautiful women by night?”

  Arthur smiled. The same arrogant smile like when they were fourteen and he had pulled him away from soccer practice just to tell him the things he had done with a cheerleader in the bathroom.

  “Oh yeah… I might have dropped out of college… But I graduated the apocalypse Summa Cum Laude”, Arthur looked at Mark with intent, as if expecting him to start laughing and rolling on the ground.

  Mark smiled—only slightly—and rolled his eyes.

  “Fuck you… I know that look. You had that shitty little pun prepared.”

  Arthur smiled and actually hugged Mark. With strength. For a moment, Mark was paralyzed, then he returned the hug with some uncertainty. When they separated, Arthur’s eyes were slightly moist.

  “I thought about that pun, about how much I would have liked to tell you, when I was alone in a cabin in the woods. When the world was dying. And there were no more women, no more enemies to hunt. No more distractions. Just me, my thoughts, and the regrets of a wasted life. The regrets of having killed the only real family I ever had….”

  Mark looked at the serious face of his friend and answered:

  “I… I’m sorry about how things ended…”

  Mother-fucker… I just apologized to him…, he thought, wincing a little. Welcome back to the Arthurian Church of Bullshit, idiot.

  Arthur smiled at him, as if guessing his thoughts. Then he shrugged and dismissed it all by saying:

  “At least it made it easier to put the gun in my mouth when the time arrived.”

  To that, Mark had no answer. And Arthur added:

  “Anyway, we’re here now, my friend, my brother. We have a mission. Don’t you dare die on me.”

  Mark smiled. The path was open, except for the hundreds of zombies too weak or damaged to follow the shouting.

  “No fucking chance,” he said.

  And they started running towards the magic book.