Once upon a time in the vast expanse of the cosmos, there lived a young man named White Flame, who, after a peculiar turn of events, found himself transformed into the most authentic zombie in history. Yet, he bore the physique of an angel, a combination that was both a blessing and a curse.
White Flame soared through the universe, his excitement for the boundless expanse momentarily overshadowing the sorrow of his past life and the loss of the star that had nurtured him. As the thrill of flight began to wane, he paused amidst the stars, reflecting on the monotony that had set in.
Suddenly, a meteorite, neither too large nor too small, streaked towards him, its tail a blazing trail across the void. Sensing the impending danger, White Flame turned to face the threat head-on. The meteorite loomed larger in his vision, and for a moment, he was gripped by fear. "Bang!" The impact was inevitable, and White Flame watched, helpless, as the rock collided with him.
A howl of agony echoed through the silence of space, though no one was there to hear it. "Ugh, so much dust, what bad luck," White Flame spat, speaking to the void. He had been so caught up in the struggle that he had forgotten his newfound abilities. It was only then that he remembered he was no longer human, that he had wings. With a flap of his wings, he escaped the path of the meteorite, avoiding being swept away by its force.
Feeling along his mouth, White Flame discovered his teeth, sharp and pointed鈥攆angs, a feature more common to animals than humans. He quickly examined his hands and face, relieved to find them still human in appearance. "Thank goodness everything else is normal," he sighed.
"Zombie!" The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. Memories flooded back, and he understood that he was, indeed, a zombie. According to these recollections, zombies were beings outside the three realms and beyond the five elements, a unique creation born from the convergence of a souls lingering energy and the worlds yin forces. They were a presence that the world could not tolerate.
White Flame learned that the hierarchy of zombies ranged from the lowest, the walking corpses, to the more powerful low-level zombies, zombies, high-level zombies, zombie kings, zombie emperors, and even the divine. Whether there were ranks beyond the divine was unknown to him.
His constitution and characteristics, aside from his wings, were all. For instance, the meteorite had not harmed him significantly. How could he be a zombie? "Could it be that the planet was meant to give birth to zombies?" he wondered.
Yet, there was something amiss. His mind was filled with the inherited memories of the angelic race. How could this be? "I must find out more when I encounter them," he thought. "What am I now? A zombie with wings? An angel with silver wings instead of white?" White Flame was confused, a hybrid, a term that made him almost mad just thinking about it. "I suppose Ill have to look into the angelic and zombie races later."
For now, White Flame decided he was still of the zombie race, just with a pair of wings and some angelic memories and energy. He would worry about his identity later; for now, he needed to find a place to merge the energies of the two races and accept their inherited memories, as he felt the forces within him beginning to interact.
"Finally, Ive found it, haha," he exclaimed.
After traversing the stars, a deep blue planet appeared before him. Blue signified water, and where there was water, there might be life, a prospect that excited White Flame immensely.
On this planet, he could safely cultivate his powers, free from the worries of cosmic debris disrupting his practice and causing him to lose control.