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CH1 : New world
🕑 Added 2025-05-24 21:05:14 +0000 UTCAiden Smith died alone. But not forgotten.
He never had many friends. Not in real life, anyway. He was the kid who sat in the back of class with a hoodie up and earbuds in, lost in his favorite RPGs — Ebonvale, Hollow Light, Dead Souls. In those worlds, he was strong. Brave. Needed.
In the real world, he was invisible. A loner. The kind of person people didn't even notice until he was gone.
That night — the night the house caught fire — he was walking home with a bag of snacks, preparing for a long solo gaming session. When he saw the flames and heard the screams, he didn't think. He just ran in.
He got the kids out. Got the mom out.
But he didn't make it.
The last thing he felt was the heat on his back as the ceiling caved in.
And then — nothing.
[SYSTEM OVERRIDE: HEROIC DEATH DETECTED]
You have given your life to save another, now you have the option to choose a new world and live a new life. Pick your choice, Aiden Smith.
Do you wish to continue?
Aiden was confused at first, after all, he was just being cooked alive by flame, now, after the pain of the heat vanished, all that was left was darkness and cold air with this floating scream in front of him.
Aiden, after a few hours of came back to his reality and hesitantly picked to continue, and as he had done so, the screen changed to reveal different options.
[ Option ]
(World) : Choose
Aiden tapped on the screen where he needed to choose the worlds he could go to, and staring at the great amount of different worlds he could choose, all of this seemed like a dream, so he chose The World of The Walking Dead. After he had done so, a new set of options greeted him.
[ World selected ]
[Age]?
[Race]?
[Appearance]?
[Background]?
Aiden stared for a bit, then chose his age of 18 same as he died, and kept his appearance.
Name: Aiden Smith Age at death: 18 Height: 5'11" (180 cm) Build: Lean but wiry — the kind of body shaped more by late-night walks and restless pacing than working out. After waking in the post-apocalyptic world, his frame becomes more defined from constant survival, scavenging, and combat.
Face: Pale, with high cheekbones and a jawline that would be sharp if it weren't so often shadowed with exhaustion. His features are quietly handsome in a way most people wouldn't notice until he was gone.
Eyes: Dark grey-blue — distant, thoughtful, and often tired. The kind of eyes that look like they've spent more time observing than speaking. After his transfer, there's a strange glimmer in them, almost like a faint HUD reflection — a subtle visual cue that he sees the world differently.
Hair: Medium-length, shaggy black hair with natural waves. It often falls into his eyes. Before his death, he barely kept it trimmed, not caring. In the apocalypse, it stays messy, tied back sometimes with a scrap of cloth or a string from a torn hoodie.
As part of his backstory, Aiden must choose how he grew up. For example, he could have spent his youth as a dedicated football player, gaining athletic skills, discipline, and a strong sense of teamwork. Alternatively, he might have grown up with a deep passion for cars, learning everything from engine mechanics to street racing culture. His background will determine the specific knowledge and skill set he carries into the present, shaping not only his abilities but also how he sees the world.
So he took a while to choose what his background would be, but in the end he chose a background that can help him in this world he chose.
Background: Medieval Enthusiast
From a young age, Aiden was obsessed with tales of knights, castles, and ancient battles. While other kids played sports or watched cartoons, he was buried in books about feudal kingdoms, legendary swords, and the politics of long-forgotten empires. His room looked more like a scholar's study than a teenager's bedroom—maps on the walls, replica weapons on display, and shelves packed with historical tomes.
By the time he reached his teens, Aiden could name every king of England, explain the tactics used at the Battle of Hastings, and recite passages from The Art of War. He even learned to speak a bit of Old English and Latin for fun. He spent weekends at Renaissance fairs, medieval reenactments, and historical archives, often correcting the tour guides when they got the facts wrong.
You might wonder why he chose this background. The answer is simple—where he was going, modern knowledge wouldn't be of much use. In that world, information was scarce, especially anything beyond the Dark Ages. So he immersed himself in the study of that era, knowing it would give him a better chance to survive.
So after he chose his options, he pressed continue
[ Completed ]
[Congrats, host, welcome to your new world]
After reading that Aiden's vision darkened and his eyes opened wide open, and he sat up, gasping and looking around rapidly, he saw a dark room with flickering lights. It looked like a hospital room, pure white, but the windows were boarded up, and a little sunshine crept in through the gaps of the wood. As Aiden pondered where he was, the system answered him in response.
[Host has woken up in the new world, loading player screen now...]
Then a new screen popped up
[Player: Aiden Smith]
[Level 1]
Exp 0 / 100
Dexterity[8]
Strength [10]
Stamina[8]
Intelligent[13]
Wisdom[13]
Luck [8]
Available stats [0]
[Skills]
[inventory]
Patient gowns [equipped]
Starter pack [Unboxed]
Aiden stared at his stats, and upon seeing the Starter pack in the inventory, he tapped the screen, and an option popped up.
[Host, do you wish to open the Starter pack?
[Yes / No]
Aiden, of course, picked yes, and a new scream appeared after that.
[Host has gained an optional starter reward]
[Please choose one of the following skills]
[Option 1] [Skill: Dedicated Learner]
Grants the host a 10% learning boost to anything, which can be increased based on the stat intelligence; the higher the stat, the greater the boost it gains.
[Option 2] [ Instantly Gain Knowledge about basic survival
Grants the Host basic knowledge like fire starting, foresting, and more.
[Option 3] [Skill Level 1: Haste]
Grants the user a movement boost for a limited time
Aiden, seeing this, pondered that he had 3 Options to choose from but he can only pick one the haste skill would be useful but not like the other two that can help him a lot more at the moment so he ignored it and focused on the other two while one can help him survive now while the other can help him in the long run..
After a while of pondering, he went with option 1 after all, while gaining knowledge about basic survival would be good, it's not the best option in the long run where whereas option 1 can grow stronger and help him in well well-rounded way, but he needs to learn everything himself.
[Host has gained Skill: Dedicated learner]
[Note: due to the host's chosen background, the host will gain the following]
[Basic Knowledge about Dark Ages, as in tools and strategies and the like ]
After the last sentence was read, Aiden felt immense pain in his head, where he forcefully gained knowledge about medieval tools, weapons, and some strategies. Aiden grabbed his forehead as he struggled with the pain that came with it.
After what feels like an eternity, though it's only been an hour, Aiden lies slumped on the hospital bed, drenched in sweat. His chest rises and falls in ragged gasps, each breath labored as if he's just run a marathon through fire. A sharp, relentless migraine pulses behind his eyes, like a hammer striking from within his skull. The sterile scent of antiseptic stings his nostrils, and the harsh white lights overhead blur into halos. Slowly, agonizingly, he blinks the haze away. Confusion gives way to fragmented memories—flashes of pain, shouting, maybe sirens—and piece by piece, reality stitches itself back together. With a groan, he lifts a trembling hand to his forehead, trying to steady himself, mentally clawing his way back to awareness. The room spins slightly as he turns his head, but he grits his teeth, grounding himself in the cold, crinkling sheets beneath him. He's not out of the woods, but he's here—alive, and slowly remembering why.
"System, can you tell me where I am?" Aiden asked, wondering if the System would even give him the answer he sought.
[Host is located at Riverview Hospital, in King County, Georgia]
"Wait, isn't this the hospital Rick was in?" Aiden pondered to himself, but he decided to get up from the bed and with his bare feet touching the cold hospital floor, and scanned the room, it looked unkept as if someone tried to get out in a hurry, and like a hammer, it hit Aiden. He was in The Walking Dead Universe.
What he thought was a dream became reality, regretting not picking another world, but now this is the new world, and he`ll have to survive with the choices he had made. Priority: find a weapon to defend oneself, and what Aiden is seeing won`t do him well in that field, just an empty bed with a sheet and pillow and a few loose clothing, broken glass, and a few metal chairs, most likely for the visitors.
So Aiden decided to step outside, carefully opening the door, peeking outside, and trying to make as little noise a possible after seeing that the hallways were clear, he searched the other nearby rooms for supplies and a possible weapon, and in the first two rooms he managed to find a few vitamin pills as well as a pare of fresh clothes.
[Equipped]
Dark blue jeans [+2 Armor]
Green T-shirt [+1 Armor]
White socks [+1 DEX]
Blue Running Shoes [+1 Armor]
Now that he'd found some clothing and the cold wasn't biting quite as hard, Aiden pressed on through the dim, silent hospital corridors. The third room he checked made him stop cold. There, lying motionless on a bed with an IV still attached and monitors long dead, was the man himself—Rick Grimes. Pale, bearded, and deep in a coma, just like the stories said.
Aiden stood there for a long moment, staring at the legendary figure. Part of him felt the weight of the moment—how pivotal this man was supposed to be. But after a few minutes of quiet thought, he stepped back and let the door swing half-shut behind him.
"Let him sleep," Aiden muttered under his breath. "He'll wake up on his own... the plot has plans for him."
He had no intention of sticking around to see it unfold. Rick's group, with all their drama, reckless decisions, and endless chaos—that wasn't his path. Aiden preferred to survive his way. Alone, sharp-minded, and free from the tangled web of choices that turned survivors into martyrs.
With one last glance over his shoulder, he walked away.
After some time combing through dusty cabinets and overturned carts, Aiden found only scraps of what he was hoping for. Most of the shelves had been picked clean, and time hadn't been kind to what remained. Still, he managed to salvage a few useful items—half a bottle of cough syrup, some painkillers, and a handful of unmarked pills he'd have to research later. Not ideal, but better than nothing.
He tucked the supplies into his inventory. In a world this broken, even the smallest finds could mean the difference between life and death. He gave the room one last sweep, then moved on, boots echoing softly in the empty hallway.
While searching one of the side rooms, Aiden came across a pocket knife tucked away in a half-open drawer. It wasn't anything special—just a basic, slightly rusted blade with a worn handle—but it was sharp enough, and in this world, that was good enough.
Not ideal, but better than nothing. At the very least, it was something he could use to defend himself if a walker got too close. He flipped it open, tested the weight in his hand, then slipped it into his belt. Small comfort, but comfort all the same.
[Equipped pocket knife]
Type: Melee Weapon / Utility ToolRarity: CommonDurability: 35 / 100
[Stats]
Damage: Low (15-25)
Speed: Fast
Noise: Minimal
Critical Chance: 5%
Special: +10% stealth kill effectiveness on unaware targets
"Time to get out of here..." Aiden muttered under his breath, casting one last glance down the quiet hallway where Rick still lay in his coma. Without another word, he turned and pushed through the door to the stairwell, the hinges groaning softly in the silence.
Each step down to the lower floors echoed through the cold, concrete shaft, the sound of his boots a lonely rhythm against the silence. He didn't look back—Rick's story would unfold without him. Aiden had his own path to follow.
