Henry

I had lain down in my crypt to rest for a few decades, but when I awoke, centuries had passed. My castle is in ruins, my clan is gone, and necromancers are considered just a fairy tale for children. They take me for a healer. That's because the world is sick. And it's time for strong medicine.

Night has fallen and the dead have begun their march. Garrett’s power is growing, and with it the influence of the dream flowers. But with power comes enemies, and Garrett’s enemies outclass him by a large margin. To make matters worse, one of the Great Rulers of the Dream has launched his attack on the budding Klein Family, intending to consume Garrett and expand his territory. With the March of Lesrak underway, the gangs of the city have a simple choice. Band together or die under the claws of the wave of zombies sweeping the city.

The usual result of a human taking a runaway semitruck head-on is a very sudden, very fast track to the pearly gates. But for one newly noncorporeal man, there's another option: become a dungeon. Feeling sorry for the desperate angel assigned to him, the man relents. Heck, if it doesn't work out, he can always chat with Saint Peter about it later. Next thing you know, he's a dungeon. Admittedly, a small run-down, somewhat unimpressive dungeon (more of a house, actually), but you gotta start somewhere, right?

A Necromancer on the run. Tyron Steelarm, accompanied by the spirit of his mentor and friend, Dove, is desperate to realise his potential and change his destiny. To achieve his aims, he must outwit and outrun the marshals who seek to track him down, and the slayers who want him dead. Worst of all, his own parents, renowned heroes of the realm, have been tasked with bringing him to justice. For how long will they be able to delay fulfilling this cruel order, and what will happen when they run out of time?All Tyron can do is run, and fight.

Newborn Dungeon Cores must choose what entity they help contain, and that choice determines what monsters they are able to summon. After being executed for crimes forgotten in death, Tira is given the chance to make that choice. Tira chose Acekorah, the Primeval Terror, a being so dangerous few cores will risk trying to contain it.

All that stands between rowdy long-haul trucker Jill MacLeod (aka Junkmouth) and her family back in Boston is two thousand miles of asphalt. Well, that and the monstrous game the System has had her playing ever since it descended on Earth. The reward: mana. Jill's goal: kill, score, drive—and stay alive. Behind the wheel of a turreted forty-ton semi named Bertha, Jill hammers east from Montana through a gauntlet of every kind of chomping, hissing, rabid creature imaginable. Barreling forward in her magical soulbound big rig and chalking up a bumper crop of roadkill, Jill isn't alone for long.

The online game Yamada Kenichi had been playing religiously is shutting down its servers, leaving him with a void in his heart. He looks for a new game to fill it, but everything he finds is way too easy. The kind of game he likes—the kind punishing enough to make players want to spend thousands of hours on it—just isn't around anymore.

Somebody once told a joke. A man ran in place all his life. He worked a job he didn't love for people he couldn't stand. But at the end of the day, the number in his bank account went up. That man got a second chance at life. He woke up in another world, one full of adventures and romances and monsters and gods. And floating above his head, he saw the number "1". So what did he say? "Gosh, I better make the number go up." Not today. Not for this old soul. Reborn as a beast of battle meant to live a short life and die screaming, Garek refuses.