Basement Necromancer
I walked into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water. It was a hot summer day, the kind where sweat already stuck your shirt to your back before you even took a sip. I drained the glass in one gulp, then set it down on the counter with a satisfied clink.
Right as I reached for a second glass, a single red chili pepper dropped straight into the sink. It landed with a soft, pathetic splat and rolled lazily toward the drain. My heart did a little flip. Not because I was scared—I mean, it was just a chili—but because that exact sound had started haunting my nightmares months ago. The sound of my landlord’s anger. The sound of my entire world cracking open. The sound of everything I owned getting tossed out the door.
I froze, water still dripping from my chin. “Hey! That chili just fell, you bastard!” I yelled toward the door, voice echoing off the peeling paint. My throat felt raw, like I’d been screaming at ghosts for weeks already.
Silence. Then the landlord’s voice crawled through the speaker, thick with the same irritation he always had. “What the hell did you just say?!”
I leaned against the sink, suddenly aware that my cheap apartment was the only thing keeping me alive right now. “I said… it just fell.” My voice came out smaller than I wanted. “There was nothing I could do.”
The landlord snorted. “Nothing you could do? Bullshit. You’re always too lazy to pick up after yourself. You think I’m just gonna let you live here forever? Pay the rent or get out!”
I didn’t answer. What was the point? He’d been saying the same thing for months, and every time I tried to explain—about gates, about monsters, about how I was supposed to be some kind of national hero instead of a broke nobody living in a basement—that’s when the yelling got worse. He didn’t believe a word. None of them did. Not the neighbors, not the government, not even the damn Hunter Association. I was just the ghost in the machine, the F-class nobody they all loved to ignore. But today, something felt different. Like the universe was waiting to drop the other shoe. I held my breath. Here it comes. The door’s gonna fly open and my stuff’s gonna be in the hallway. Again. For the millionth time. My stomach twisted into a knot. I’d been here long enough that I could picture the exact way the landlord would storm out, keys jingling like a death knell.
The line stayed silent for a long moment. Then his voice dropped, low and cold. “Get out. Now. Or I’ll change the locks tomorrow.”
I stared at the phone like it had personally betrayed me. “You… you’re serious?” My voice cracked. “You can’t do that. I have nowhere else to go. What about the gate alerts? The monsters outside? I can’t—”
“Save it,” he cut in, voice flat. “Pack your crap. You’re done here.” Click. The call died. I stood there, receiver still pressed to my ear, staring at the wall like it might start talking back. The basement felt smaller, darker, the air thick with the smell of old mold and my own fear. I’d been paying late for three straight months. Three. Months. And now this. The landlord was done. With me. With the rent. With everything. My hands shook as I hung up the phone. This wasn’t just eviction. This was the end. The same end I’d been running from since the day I woke up as an F-class nobody in a world that screamed “S-class” every time it blinked. The end of the basement apartment that had somehow become my last safe place. The end of pretending I could keep hiding down here while the city above me burned. I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat refusing to move. How the hell was I supposed to survive out there? The gates? The monsters? The government that didn’t give a damn about F-class trash like me? I was dead. Literally dead. In every way that mattered. And I hadn’t even gotten to enjoy the ride. The thought hit me like a cold bucket of water. I was finished. Kaput. Over. The only question left was what the hell I was going to do with the rest of my life. And the answer? There wasn’t one. Not anymore. The phone stayed dead in my hand, silent as a tomb. I set it down gently, like it might explode if I touched it wrong. The apartment creaked around me, old pipes groaning in the walls like they were trying to warn me. I should have been packing. Instead I just stood there, staring at the chili pepper floating in the sink, red like a drop of blood. Like a warning. Like the last laugh of the universe. I reached out and flushed it down the drain. It spun away with a gurgle, taking my last scraps of hope with it. The water swirled, mixing with the drops of sweat still on my forehead. I didn’t feel like drinking anymore. I didn’t feel like anything anymore. The basement was dead. Just like me. And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t scared. I was just… empty. Hollow. Waiting for whatever came next. The landlord’s voice echoed in my head one last time. “Get out.” I closed my eyes. Yeah. I was getting out. The question was, would I be coming back? Or would this basement become my coffin?
I didn’t know it yet, but something was about to change everything. Something big. Something that would turn my pathetic little basement into a whole new kind of hell. One filled with the dead. The undead. The S-class Necromancer I was about to become. But that was still hours away. For now, all I had was this moment. This empty feeling. This realization that the world wasn’t going to wait for me to figure my shit out. It was going to drag me kicking and screaming into the light—whether I was ready or not. And the light? It was going to be full of gates, monsters, and the kind of power that could either save me… or bury me forever. I just didn’t know which one yet. But I was about to find out. The phone stayed dead in my hand, silent as a tomb. I set it down gently, like it might explode if I touched it wrong. The apartment creaked around me, old pipes groaning in the walls like they were trying to warn me. I should have been packing. Instead I just stood there, staring at the chili pepper floating in the sink, red like a drop of blood. Like a warning. Like the last laugh of the universe. I reached out and flushed it down the drain. It spun away with a gurgle, taking my last scraps of hope with it. The water swirled, mixing with the drops of sweat still on my forehead. I didn’t feel like drinking anymore. I didn’t feel like anything anymore. The basement was dead. Just like me. And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t scared. I was just… empty. Hollow. Waiting for whatever came next. The landlord’s voice echoed in my head one last time. “Get out.” I closed my eyes. Yeah. I was getting out. The question was, would I be coming back? Or would this basement become my coffin?