Rye stood still, his mind completely emotionless. What had he become? He slowly looked down at his hands, which were a sickly grey. His arms were riddled with bullet holes that he couldn't even feel. Somewhere, he felt something. His oathstone had been destroyed in an explosion. Some lucidity, barely enough to think, trickled into his brain.
Rye began walking. Walking for hours without pause. He couldn't feel fatigue, so it didn't matter. He walked until he reached a desert. A lone temple stood. He entered, and kept walking. Walking through complex halls, ignoring traps, until he made it to the center of the crypt. The shimmering waters of life awaited. He stumbled over, but tripped on an F-22 that was there for some reason and fell into the pool. He felt pain, and screamed as his nerves began working again. His wounds healed quickly, luckily. His skin turned back to its natural tan, and he could finally think again.
He jumped out from the waters, newly invigorated and no longer undead. He hopped into the F-22, no longer worrying about his PTSD from when he'd died flying one of them, and flew out of the temple, crashing through the roof and into open air. "To the sandwich," he said.
edit: this is my 100th post, yay!