I Die to Rise: Resurrection System-Chapter 87: Vacation: Open Season!

Miles away, in the secured fifth floor of Raven’s Crow headquarters, Morra sat cross-legged in her cage that kept her contained and docile.

Then she felt it.

A tingling sensation that started at the base of her skull and spread like ice water down her spine. Her eyes snapped open, and she stood immediately, hands gripping the bars of her cage.

"This should be interesting," she whispered.

What Kurt didn’t know, what the guild didn’t understand, was that Reapers operated under strict rules. Once a target was marked for reaping, no other entity dared interfere.

It was cosmic law, enforced through fear and consequence. But now? With Morra trapped, with the Reaper protocols stalled, those rules no longer applied.

Kurt Manchester was open season.

Every horror, every creature, every thing that had been lurking in the shadows waiting for a chance at the Resurrection System could now move freely.

And each time Kurt died, it was like hoisting a massive neon sign into the sky with an arrow pointing straight down, saying: I AM HERE.

When the red haired, overdressed hellspawn snapped Kurt’s neck in that tunnel, the signal went out.

And something in the deep ocean surrounding Bangrock Island noticed.

Morra could sense it rising from the abyss, ancient, hungry, drawn to the scent of resurrection like sharks to blood. She pressed her forehead against the bars, pale lips curving into a grim smile.

"You’ve gone and made a mess of things Kurt," she said softly, then sat back down. "Good luck."

Fortunately for Kurt, when he fell through the barrier and into the dungeon, reality bent around him. The dimensional pocket swallowed the signal completely, severing his connection to the outside world, and with that, the metaphorical neon sign vanished.

Whatever had been rising from the ocean depths, most likely a massive, primordial, Eldritch horror, stopped.

It hovered in the darkness for a long moment, confused by the sudden disappearance of its prey. Then it retreated back into the abyss.

Kurt had jumped into the fire to escape the frying pan without even realizing it.

***

Inside the dungeon, Kurt and Sam moved carefully through ancient corridors carved from volcanic rock. The architecture was impossibly old, predating the dungeon emergence by centuries, maybe millennia. Symbols covered every surface, glowing faintly with blue-green light that pulsed like a heartbeat.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

The deeper they went, the louder it got.

"That’s not ominous at all," Kurt muttered, smoking his last cigarette slowly like he was conserving it.

Sam stayed close, one hand gripping his arm. "What do you think it is?"

"Nothing good."

They turned a corner and stopped dead at the sight of bodies. Plural as in, there were a lot of them, and none of them human.

Monster corpses littered the corridor, dozens of them, maybe hundreds, stretching as far as Kurt could see. Skeletons picked clean, some still fresh enough that the stench made his eyes water.

Kurt crouched beside the nearest one. Half lion, half scorpion, dragon wings jutting from its back. "Manticore," Sam whispered with a shaky voice. "That’s a B-rank monster." Its skull had been crushed, caved inward by something with incredible strength.

Further down, he spotted a chimera’s remains, three heads torn clean off. Then a wyvern, spine snapped. A cave troll, ribcage ripped open.

"Bloody hell," Kurt whispered.

Sam’s voice came small beside him. "Something’s killing all the monsters."

Kurt looked down at her, he could hear it in her voice and read it in her eyes, the fear. "If it gets too dangerous, I want you to leg it. Get out of here however you can."

Sam shook her head immediately. "I’m not leaving you."

"Sam—"

"I know you wouldn’t leave me if the situation was reversed." Her voice was steady despite the trembling in her hands. "So I’m staying."

Kurt studied her face for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. But stay behind me."

They kept walking, stepping carefully over corpses, through rivers of dried blood. The heartbeat sound grew louder with each step.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

Finally, they reached a door. Massive, carved from a single piece of volcanic stone, covered in the same glowing symbols. And standing in front of it, Kurt felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Fear.

Real, bone-deep, primal fear.

His left hand started trembling. He tried to stop it, gripping his wrist with his right hand, but the tremor persisted.

Sam saw it and grabbed his hand with both of hers, holding it steady. Her touch was warm, grounding. Just what he needed. He looked at her, and managed a smile. "Cheers, love. I’m good now."

He took her hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed the back of it gently. Then he turned back to the door and pushed as it swung open silently.

***

Meanwhile, in the volcano tunnels, Rook, Emma, and Lizzie were running for their lives.

Lava flowed behind them like a river, surging through the passage with terrifying speed. The heat was unbearable, turning the air into a furnace.

The black swans had been disarmed, but the damage was done. The drills had punched through to the magma chambers, creating new channels for the molten rock to flow.

Rook carried all five black swan devices on his shoulder like they weighed nothing as he ran, though each one was easily the weight of a compact car.

"This is bullshit!" Emma shouted as her lungs burned from running for her life.

"Ya telling me!?" Lizzie yelled back, somehow still sounding cheerful despite the mortal danger. "Ya ever wonder what a lava roasted beef would taste like?" She asked while sprinting.

"Probably like ass?" Emma responded as they covered more ground, the lava a few feet behind them.

Rook suddenly stopped, planted his feet, and started handing off black swans. Four went to Emma, one to Lizzie.

Emma’s knees buckled under the weight, and she nearly went down. "What the fuck—"

"Keep going!" Rook barked. "Don’t stop!"

"What about you?!" Lizzie asked, already backing away.

"I’ll handle it!" Rook’s tone left no room for argument. "GO!"

Emma wanted to protest, but she trusted Rook’s judgment more than her own doubts. She turned and ran, legs burning, and arms shaking under the weight of the devices.

Lizzie sprinted beside her, clutching her single black swan like a football, a really, really heavy football. "He’s got a plan, right?! Tell me he’s got a plan!"

"He always has a plan!" Emma gasped.

Behind them, Rook placed his palm flat against the volcanic rock wall, absorbing its material. His skin rippled, transformed, taking on the texture and properties of the volcanic stone.

And with that, his entire body shifted, becoming living basalt, heat-resistant and nearly indestructible.

Even his clothes changed, integrating with his new form as he awaited the lava that approached him like a tidal wave.