[Immortal] (SS-tier)
You, are Death.
Skill 1: Wait for Me, I'll Be Back – When you die, your body will randomly appear in an underground coffin. You revive after seven natural days. Usable once every 365 days.
Skill 2: Only the Dead Obey – You can control creatures that died by your hand. Duration and number of controlled creatures depend on your mana.
Skill 3: Death Mimicry – Designate a target that died by your hand to mimic their Divine Gift. Only one target at a time. Switching targets cancels the previous mimicry.
Skill 4: I'm Not Crazy, Just Twisted – All dark-side skills or items gain a 50% bonus effect.
Skill 5: Return of the Fallen – On the battlefield, you can revive all fallen allies to fight for you. Cooldown: 90 natural days.
This was a battlefield-born Divine Gift.
Skill 5 alone explained why an undead could rule a city and why this Divine Gift ranked SS-tier.
Unfortunately, Skills 4 and 5 were dark gray—she hadn't successfully stolen them.
But she was satisfied. Skill 1 alone was enough. As long as she lived, she had a chance. Even with a one-year cooldown, it was the most satisfying 1-Bamboo skill of them all.
Her life had never been this unbreakable.
Rita's mind flashed with the names of one enemy after another.
Her backpack still held potions, weapons, and gold. Even the undead racial talents were bugged into her inventory. With such a start, losing was impossible.
A knock on the next room's door, followed by a shocked exclamation, drew her attention.
After a quick shower, Rita walked out as if she hadn't noticed Samuel and Scarlett's stunned expressions. She pressed her palm to her forehead and said casually, "Signed a new endorsement yesterday. Celebrated with my brother and had a drink. I've got to go now. Make him some hangover soup, will you?"
She didn't wait for a response and left.
On the way out, she stealthily stole from both of them. The skill didn't activate. She recalled the description: "Cannot target beings of lower life tier. Thief God never bullies the weak." Likely, they weren't players, so below her life tier. But what about lower-level players? Could she not steal from them either?
After stepping outside, she realized her phone was gone.
She wore a mask and used her ID to replace her SIM card. Fortunately, she was only a minor celebrity. A few photos wouldn't cause a scene.
Once her new phone was ready, Amelia called.
Feigning calm, Rita took three days off.
Amelia was flustered: "You're really leaving the industry?!"
Rita sighed. "Give me three days. I'm a little tired. Let's grab a drink after that?"
The last sentence shut Amelia up. Knowing she could report to Robinson in three days, Amelia resigned herself. "Alright, rest well. Don't bottle anything up."
Rita hung up and drove out of the city.
She'd been scouted into the entertainment industry in her second year of college. Now 26, she was a minor star. With no extravagant tastes, she had steadily sent over 70 million to her parents and brother. Her own accounts still held over 80 million. Even without working, she had more than enough.
After the game invasion, real-world money would rapidly depreciate. As monsters increased, dungeons multiplied, and trading used in-game currency, gold, silver, and copper would replace real money in six months.
Samuel and Scarlett were eyeing that 80 million. Last life, on this very day, Amelia had almost sent her to the bald executive's bed. She had barely held back her nausea to check the villa for Rick, only for the basement to spawn a dungeon…
If real estate symbolized wealth, a hidden dungeon entrance was like possessing a treasure mountain. These dungeons were temporal portals for alien scouts. Owning one secretly meant claiming all resources within.
Today, she bought the villa she had gifted Rick last life, under her own name.
Skipping the house visit, she completed the purchase before dinner.
Hungry, she went straight to the flower and bird market, bought a thrush, grabbed takeout, and returned to her small villa purchased with her own money.
Upon entry, she deleted all fingerprints and facial recognition data of Samuel, Scarlett, and Rick from the door.
Sitting down, she opened her meal and snapped the thrush's neck.
She activated [Only the Dead Obey]. Almost instantly, she felt a connection with the bird. A thought from her mind made it fly around, its head straightening unnaturally, as if an invisible hand corrected it.
Closing her eyes, she could see everything through the bird's eyes: the large living room, a woman sitting cross-legged on the sofa.
She directed the bird in circles around the room.
After eating, she tidied the villa. She hadn't lived here before, preferring to stay with "family" during holidays.
She drove out to buy clothes and toiletries, the thrush flying overhead the entire time. Before sleep, she instructed it to keep flying all night.
By 7 a.m., she checked her mana—20 points remaining. Controlling a small bird for 12 hours only cost 80 mana. Controlling an adult? That would be much higher.
During the day, she deflected Scarlett's comments about needing a house for Rick. She organized her inventory, buying three large storage boxes to separate guns, bullets, and explosives, keeping them in one game slot.
One fully loaded firearm went into another slot.
Potions required quick access—extra seconds could cost her life—so she filled one slot with them.
She ordered a medicine cabinet from a traditional pharmacy, paid extra for same-day delivery, labeled each drawer with the herb names, and stored the excess potions at the bottom.
Out of 30 game inventory slots, she had used only five:
Beginner Healing Potions x99
Beginner Mana Potions x99
Beginner Invisibility Potions x3
Low-Grade Shotgun x1
Storage Boxes x3