Immortality is born from negligence.

Aron opened his eyes, staring at the old wooden ceiling above him. Pain rushed across his shoulder as he gasped for air, sitting up and coughing.

"Where am I?" He looked around, seeing multiple injured people around him. This was, as far as he could tell, a healing center in a church.

"You're awake," A priest approached him, pointing his necklace at Aron.

"May the light of god bless your soul," He mumbled, [Healing]

Aron felt a rush of warmth across his body as the magic coursed across his veins, "What happened?"

"You must be confused. Far few those who survive the miasma of the dead," The priest lifted a water jug and handed it to Aron, "Drink and eat. You're safe now, and that's what matters," He gave Aron a loaf of bread.

Aron could feel a headache starting at the back of his head, "Yeah, I remember now," He growled, hearing the cries of people as the undead invaded Lostville.

"What happened to Lostville? Are we the only survivors?" He looked around, unable to recognize any of the other injured ones.

"I fear so," The priest looked down, "The rest turned into zombies, and we had to purge them."

"GRWAAA!" Another patient sat up and growled as he rubbed his eyes. The priest quickly turned toward the man, "Thank god, another one seems fine."

"May the light of god bless your soul," [Healing]

SIZZLE! The man's skin started burning as his eyes flashed green. The priest lunged back, "Guards! We got a dead one!" He growled as two armed soldiers rushed through the door, restraining the raging man.

The priest sighed in relief, fixing his attire and approaching the man, "Sorry for not being able to save your life, but I hope you can be satisfied by saving your afterlife." The priest touched the man's chest. "Rest in peace. God shall provide you with a better life in heaven," [Lay to Rest]

The man's body disintegrated as the holy magic burned him to ash, and the priest looked down with a sad face, "Another one. Gather the ashes and prepare them. He might have a family,"

The priest then turned back to Aron, "Do you know him by any chance?"

Aron shook his head. "No. His face felt familiar, but I don't think we knew each other in the village. I only focused on farming,"

"I see," The priest approached Aron, "You might have suffered the same fate if the undead infected you. Pray to god in thanks. He shall protect you again," He stood and left, leaving Aron on the bed.

***

A weak later.

Aron walked out of the church, mostly healed up. He still got some pain in his left shoulder, but it's nothing he can't endure. He looked at the streets, "Where should I go?" He sighed, sitting on the church's steps.

CLICK! CLACK! A nun walked out of the door to swipe the steps, seeing Aron sitting there with a distant look on his face.

"Aren't you one of the survivors?" She asked, approaching him. "May god's light shines upon you."

Aron looked at her, "May it shines about you, I can't thank you enough for your help,"

The nun smiled, "I was doing my duty. How are you feeling?" She looked around.

"Nothing in particular, just thinking about what I should do," He sighed, "Home destroyed, stranded in a foreign city with no money, food, or shelter."

The nun approached him, "God shall never abandon his believers. Feel free to spend the night in the church. I will even cook something for you." She smiled.

"You have your hands full treating the other survivors. I can't remain here forever," Aron looked at her, and she looked away, scratching her chin.

"Sadly, I can't argue with that." She shook her head.

"You can sleep here for free, but about food, I can cook for you. But it will honestly be better if you provided for yourself." She looked away.

Aron remembered that they barely ate anything better than bread and water. Sometimes some milk. The church's main income came from donations, and those can never fully support all the survivors inside.

"Do you think the guild is a good bet?" Aron looked at the nun, "I heard about them, but we never had one in Lostville."

"It's a dangerous line of work. I won't recommend it if you can't fight," The nun stared at him.

"And since I got beaten by the undead, I clearly cannot fight." He sighed, standing up, "You didn't say it won't make me money,"

"You will get hurt. I heard the city lord is recruiting people for farming,"

"He barely pays enough for someone's food and drink," Aron stared at her, "I want to put some money back in the church. So I will go to the guild." He turned around, "I will be back to sleep here, reserve a place for me," He left into the sunset.

The nun sighed and turned back, walking into the church to grab her broom.

"It's almost night. What mission could that guy finish?"

****

Aron walked across the city, seeing people living their life. What happened to Lostville was the current hot topic.

"Poor people, they didn't even have a wall," A man sighed beside a bar.

"I heard they called for help weeks ago. The king just ignored them," Another man growled.

"Shut up! Those are only lies," A guard grunted at them.

Aron walked past them, looking down. ^We did call for help two months ago when we spotted the undead for the first time^

He could feel the blood rushing through his neck and up to his head, ^The king never replied or even sent someone to investigate,^

Aron growled, glaring back at the city lord castle behind him, sending its shadow at the city as the sun dropped behind it.

"Before the king, our village was a part of your responsibility." grinding his teeth, "I will murder you,"