Powerful in my newly acquired abilities, barely ten seconds old, using a talent that feels both natural and elevated, I gather a great amount of magic in my hand and stretch it out before me, aiming at the corpse whose flesh has nearly rotted away, leaving most of its skeleton exposed.
Despite the panic coursing through my entire being, I manage—barely—to aim at the undead bastard and fire a bolt of violet and black magical energy that strikes the skeleton. Unfortunately, in the panic of my fear, I overloaded the attack with too much magic. The good side? The attack caused an explosion that annihilated the undead and those standing next to it.
The bad side? I got caught in the explosion myself, sent flying backwards and crashing into the snow, my mind a bit dizzy, but quickly forced to refocus when I saw another undead, one that had escaped the blast, rushing toward me. Once again controlled by fear and instinct, I channeled another massive surge of magical energy, forming a sphere of violet and black energy around me, shielding me from the assault of the undead—who were soon joined by others.
To my immense relief, the shield had no trouble holding back their blows, giving me a second to breathe and calm down, even if just a little, from the sheer terror and incomprehension of my situation.
I had been sent to another world.
FUCK.
The memories of my "death" were still fresh in my mind. I had been sitting in the passenger seat of my sister's car as we drove to a concert we had both been waiting for with excitement. And then everything happened so fast. The motorcycle cutting us off. My sister losing control of the car. Me barely having time to unbuckle and throw myself over her to shield her with my body. Then searing pain, sharp and absolute—and suddenly I was here.
Surrounded by snow and cold, trying to process what was happening, my head flooded with questions.
How's my sister? Is she alive? How did our parents react to my death? Will karma make sure that asshole biker scrapes his face across the asphalt in some brutal, painful accident?
Unfortunately for me, those questions were cut off by the creatures pounding on my magic shield, dragging me back to the present. That's when I realized—I wasn't in my world anymore. Unless Earth had suffered a zombie apocalypse. Sadly, panic and shock had stopped me from figuring out why these zombies in particular felt so familiar. It was a miracle I'd been able to use my new abilities so instinctively.
But now, with a bit more safety and a slightly calmer mind, I could observe the zombies clawing at my shield. Unfortunately, even though I'd taken a deep breath and tried to calm myself, my mind was still a mess. The fact that zombies were trying to bite into my brown skin didn't help at all. The only thing I knew for sure was this: I had magic. And even if I didn't understand much of it yet, I grasped the basics. I was damn good at it. So for now, I'd focus on that—and see what I could do next.
Still filled with fear and uncertainty, I nevertheless managed to gather another large amount of magical energy before releasing it in a destructive wave, obliterating the undead swarming around me.
Deep, ragged breaths of icy air filled and left my chest as I took advantage of the lull in danger to calm myself and reorder my thoughts. That took a while—considering I was in the middle of an interdimensional existential crisis.
Unfortunately, that crisis was cut short by a new problem: I was freezing. Like, really freezing. Adrenaline is an amazing thing—when you're fighting for your life, it lets you ignore the fact that you're standing in -10°C weather dressed in nothing but pants, sneakers, and a T-shirt.
But now that the danger had passed, my body reminded me very clearly that this new life of mine was about to end thanks to the cold. With no real choice—since the undead's clothes were in tatters anyway—I made a grimoire appear with a flick of my wrist.
The grimoire was black. So black it looked like it was made of shadow. It had no reinforcement, no carvings, and seemed to pulse with a red aura. With no time to admire what was clearly my book of shadows, I opened it to the first page, which displayed… categories of spells. Yeah, at this point denial would just be stupid. I was in another world. And I was a sorcerer—no, a spellcaster. Not that I understood the difference, so let's just stick with sorcerer. Damn, I should've played The Sims when I had the chance.
Basics
Practical
Mischievous
Untamed
Alchemy
Having had these powers for less than ten minutes, I wasn't even going to look at the other categories. I focused on the basics, and as if reacting to my thoughts, the pages shifted on their own, showing me the spells under the basic category of my magic.
Magic Projection: Channel energy outside your body in various forms.
Magic Shield: Use energy to create protective barriers.
Telekinesis: Control matter and energy with your magic.
Magic Inventory: Store objects in a pocket dimension tied to your essence.
Reinforcement: Channel energy directly into your body or objects to enhance them.
That's… wow. I mean, just the basics looked incredible. Now I was curious about the other categories.
Unfortunately, my arcane enthusiasm was quickly crushed by the reality that I was about to freeze to death. So I focused on the one spell that had the best chance of saving me.
Body Reinforcement—a spell that could increase physical abilities, senses, and most importantly, resilience to pain, poison, and—right now—the cold.
Exactly what I needed.
Quickly scanning the surroundings for any zombie ninjas, I closed my eyes and followed the grimoire's instructions.
First, visualize my magical heart. Thankfully, I seemed to be naturally gifted at this magical bullshit, because I had no trouble seeing it. It looked like a normal heart, except it was the same color as my magical energy and sat to the right of my chest, next to my real heart.
Like my real heart, it pumped magical energy throughout my body. What I had to do was redirect that energy to reinforce my body—specifically, my resistance to cold.
That was tough, given how frozen my body already felt, breaking my concentration. But after a few minutes, I could feel the magic warming me from within, pushing back the waves of cold. Not completely—at my current level, I had just reduced the chill to a more tolerable level. I was still cold, but it was bearable. Plus, this was training. I'd get better with it. So… yay.
With the cold problem at least half-solved, I could finally sit down and process what was happening—react the way anyone would.
"Inhale FUUUUUUUUCKKKKKK."
Reacting to my chaotic emotions, a wave of energy burst out from me, blasting and shattering everything nearby. But I didn't care. All the questions that had been shoved aside by the zombie attack rushed back into my mind—and I still had no answers.
"FUCKING SHIT GODDFUCKINGAMN FUCK!"
"WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO? I'M LOST IN A FUCKING FROZEN DESERT APPARENTLY FULL OF FUCKING ZOMBIES, BUT HEY, IT'S ALL GOOD, I CAN DO MAGIC. JUST FUCKING GREAT."
"FUCK THIS. Exhale."
Breathing heavily, I vented my anger and frustration until my chaotic mind cleared a little—enough for an idea to hit me. Reopening the grimoire, I scanned through it, hoping one of the spells could take me back home. Unfortunately, aside from the basic and apprentice-level spells, all the others were greyed out. Having played my fair share of video games (except Sims 4, sadly), I understood—spells were locked. I could only unlock them by mastering each level one at a time.
It was frustrating—but logical. Still, I'd hoped one of them might've let me return home. Maybe it was possible. But I had no way of knowing unless I mastered the grimoire's different branches of magic and alchemy.
Worry and anxiety climbed inside me as I crouched down, burying my head in my hands, wondering if I should just give up—let the cold or zombies take me and be done with it.
With a bit of luck, I'd wake up in my original world, in a hospital bed, my sister at my side—and all this would just be a nightmare requiring months of therapy. …Fuck.
With a long sigh of resignation, I stood up, deciding to do what, deep down, I would've done anyway.
My sister was waiting for me. Even if she was dead, I had to know. The plan was simple: become a master sorcerer, and find a way to go home—or die trying.
I was scared to death. But fuck it. It was this, or die here. So, arcane path it was.
And just as I resolved my future, my magic shield flared on its own to block something that fell into the snow. Looking down, my brow furrowed when I saw what looked like an arrow. Not a modern arrow, like the ones in competitions or the 21st century, but a wooden one. Was this world… medieval?
Lifting my head to find its source, I spotted a figure several dozen meters away on a small hill overlooking the dead village. With better control over my magic now, I reinforced my eyes and immediately saw my attacker's face as clearly as if she were standing in front of me.
A woman. Her face speckled with freckles, framed by long, wild red hair. Gray eyes. A tall but sturdy frame hidden beneath heavy fur, though my new vision cut through it easily.
And like the undead before, her face struck me with a strange familiarity. But I couldn't remember where I'd seen her.
She looked surprised that I had taken her shot without flinching, but quickly recovered, pulling another arrow from her quiver and firing again. Despite the distance, her aim was true—straight for my head. She would've succeeded, too, if not for my shield.
"This bitch just tried to headshot me?"
Not giving her a third chance—or worse, the chance to run—I gathered magic into my right hand and flung it. A violet bolt slammed beside her, exploding violently and sending her flying along with the snow, leaving behind bare rock that would be covered again in an hour.
Looking at what I'd done, only one thought came to mind: my powers were fucking impressive. …Oh, and I hadn't killed her. First, I wasn't a psychopath—I'd never killed anyone (bar fights at most). Second, she was a native of this world. She could have information I needed.
Maybe I should go see if she's alive. And if she is, tie her up for an impromptu interrogation. Though I'd never intimidated anyone in my life, and someone who lived in this climate was bound to be tough as nails… Yeah. I'll just wing it and hope for the best.
Yeah. That'll work.