Time Warrior: Trapped in 1300 AD, One Man Must Battle an Army of the Undead to Unlock the Secret of Returning to the Present

Ash Williams thought he was done with the horrors of the Necronomicon and the Deadites. He had survived a medieval war, defeated an army of the undead, and returned to his own time. Life was supposed to go back to normal. But as he stood in the middle of the grocery store, the smoking remains of a Deadite at his feet, he realized that the evil wasn’t done with him yet.

The saleslady he had just saved stared at him in shock, her eyes wide and her hands trembling as she clutched her shopping bag. The store was eerily silent, the other customers frozen in place, unsure of what they had just witnessed. Ash adjusted his tie, wiped some blood off his face, and gave the saleslady a confident smirk.

“Shop smart,” he said, raising his shotgun. “Shop S-Mart.”

But before anyone could react, the store’s intercom crackled to life. A deep, guttural voice echoed through the speakers, sending chills down everyone’s spines.

“You didn’t say the words, Ash,” the voice growled, dripping with malice. “You didn’t say the words.”

Ash’s smirk faltered. He turned toward the source of the voice, his grip tightening on his shotgun. “Oh, come on,” he muttered. “I said the words. Mostly. Kind of.”

The lights flickered again, and the air grew cold. Shelves began to rattle, cans and boxes tumbling to the floor. Customers screamed and ran for the exits, but the doors wouldn’t budge. The voice laughed, low and menacing.

“You brought this upon yourself, chosen one,” it said. “You brought us back.”

Ash groaned, his shoulders slumping. “Of course I did.”

The Chaos Unleashed

The air in the store seemed to thicken, and a dark mist began to seep in through the cracks in the walls and floor. The mist coiled and writhed like a living thing, and from its depths emerged grotesque figures—Deadites. Their twisted faces grinned with jagged teeth, their glowing eyes fixed on Ash.

“Great,” Ash muttered, cocking his shotgun. “It’s one of those days.”

The first Deadite lunged at him, its clawed hands reaching for his throat. Ash fired, the blast sending the creature flying into a stack of cereal boxes. Before he could reload, another Deadite grabbed him from behind, its claws digging into his shoulders. Ash grunted in pain but managed to swing his chainsaw arm backward, slicing the creature in half.

“Two for one special,” he quipped, stepping over the twitching remains.

The saleslady screamed as another Deadite lunged at her. Ash turned just in time to blast it away, but more were coming. He could see them crawling out of the mist, their numbers growing by the second.

“Alright, folks,” Ash shouted to the remaining customers. “If you want to live, grab something sharp and start swinging! This is no time to be shy!”

A few brave souls grabbed whatever they could find—brooms, mop handles, even a fire extinguisher—and joined Ash in fighting off the Deadites. The store erupted into chaos as the battle raged, aisles turning into battlegrounds and shelves into barricades.

A Familiar Face

As Ash fought his way through the horde, he caught a glimpse of something—or someone—familiar. Standing at the edge of the mist was a figure he thought he’d never see again: Evil Ash. His charred and skeletal form was unmistakable, his twisted grin as infuriating as ever.

“Miss me, handsome?” Evil Ash sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. “You didn’t think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?”

Ash rolled his eyes. “Oh, great. You again. Didn’t I blow you up last time?”

“You did,” Evil Ash said, stepping closer. “But you didn’t say the words, Ash. You screwed up, and now I’m back. And this time, I’m taking over.”

Ash raised his shotgun, aiming it at his doppelgänger. “Not on my watch, bonehead.”

Before he could fire, Evil Ash raised a hand, and the mist surged forward like a tidal wave. It slammed into Ash, knocking him off his feet and sending him crashing into a display of canned goods. By the time he scrambled to his feet, Evil Ash was gone.

A Plan Forms

The battle raged on, but Ash knew they couldn’t keep fighting forever. The Deadites just kept coming, and the mist showed no signs of dissipating. They needed a plan.

Ash regrouped with the saleslady and a few of the braver customers who had managed to hold their own against the Deadites. Among them was a teenage boy wielding a baseball bat, a middle-aged man with a crowbar, and an elderly woman who had somehow managed to turn a mop into a surprisingly effective weapon.

“We can’t keep this up,” the saleslady said, her voice trembling. “There’s too many of them.”

Ash nodded, wiping sweat and blood from his brow. “Yeah, no kidding. We need to find a way to stop this at the source.”

“The source?” the teenage boy asked.

Ash gestured toward the mist. “That. It’s coming from somewhere, and I’m willing to bet it’s got something to do with bonehead back there.”

“Bonehead?” the elderly woman asked.

“Evil Ash,” Ash clarified. “He’s the one pulling the strings. If we take him out, we take out the mist and the Deadites.”

The group exchanged uncertain glances, but they knew Ash was right. They couldn’t keep fighting forever. They needed to end this.

Into the Mist

Armed with whatever weapons they could find, the group ventured into the mist. The air grew colder and heavier as they moved deeper into the store, the oppressive darkness making it hard to see more than a few feet ahead. The sounds of battle faded behind them, replaced by an eerie silence.

“This is a bad idea,” the middle-aged man muttered, his grip tightening on the crowbar.

“Yeah, well, most of my ideas are bad,” Ash said. “But they usually work. Usually.”

As they moved deeper into the mist, they began to notice strange symbols etched into the walls and floor. The symbols glowed faintly, pulsing in time with the mist. Ash recognized them immediately—they were from the Necronomicon.

“Great,” he muttered. “More creepy book nonsense.”

The symbols led them to the back of the store, where they found Evil Ash standing in the center of a makeshift altar. The Necronomicon sat open on the altar, its pages glowing with an unholy light. Evil Ash turned to face them, his skeletal grin widening.

“Welcome to the end of the world,” he said. “Hope you brought popcorn.”

The Final Battle

Ash didn’t waste any time. He raised his shotgun and fired, but Evil Ash was ready. He raised a hand, and the mist solidified into a shield, deflecting the blast.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” Evil Ash taunted.

“Fine,” Ash said, revving his chainsaw. “Let’s dance.”

The two Ashes charged at each other, their weapons clashing in a shower of sparks. The rest of the group joined the fight, fending off the Deadites that swarmed around the altar. The air was filled with the sounds of clashing metal, gunfire, and the unearthly screams of the Deadites.

Ash and Evil Ash fought with brutal intensity, their movements mirroring each other like a twisted dance. For every blow Ash landed, Evil Ash struck back twice as hard. But Ash wasn’t about to give up. He’d faced worse odds before, and he wasn’t about to let Evil Ash win.

As the battle raged on, Ash noticed the Necronomicon glowing brighter and brighter. He realized that the book was the key to Evil Ash’s power. If he could destroy it, he could end this once and for all.

“Cover me!” he shouted to the others. “I’m going for the book!”

The group fought valiantly, holding off the Deadites as Ash made his move. He dodged and weaved through the chaos, his eyes locked on the glowing book. But just as he reached the altar, Evil Ash appeared in front of him, blocking his path.

“You’re not getting anywhere near that book,” Evil Ash growled.

Ash smirked, raising his chainsaw. “Wanna bet?”

The two clashed again, their fight growing more desperate and chaotic. Ash knew he couldn’t win in a straight fight—Evil Ash was stronger, faster, and just as cunning. He needed to outsmart him.

As they fought, Ash noticed a fire extinguisher mounted on the wall nearby. An idea formed in his mind, and he knew it was risky, but it was the only chance he had.

He feigned a stumble, falling to the ground and dropping his shotgun. Evil Ash laughed, raising his sword for the final blow. But before he could strike, Ash grabbed the fire extinguisher and sprayed it directly into Evil Ash’s face.

The skeletal doppelgänger screamed, clawing at his eyes as the cold foam blinded him. Ash didn’t waste a second. He grabbed his shotgun, aimed it at the Necronomicon, and pulled the trigger.

The Aftermath

The blast destroyed the altar, and the Necronomicon was consumed in a fiery explosion. The mist began to dissipate, and the Deadites collapsed into piles of bones and ash. Evil Ash let out a final, ear-piercing scream before disintegrating into dust.

The group stood in stunned silence as the store returned to normal. The lights flickered back on, and the oppressive darkness was replaced by the familiar hum of fluorescent bulbs.

“We did it,” the saleslady said, her voice trembling. “We actually did it.”

Ash nodded, lowering his shotgun. “Yeah. We did.”

As the group emerged from the store, they were met with cheers from the remaining customers and employees. The nightmare was over—for now.

But Ash knew better than to let his guard down. The Necronomicon had a way of coming back, and the Deadites were nothing if not persistent. For now, though, he allowed himself a moment of peace.

“Alright, folks,” he said, flashing his signature smirk. “Who’s buying me a drink?”

The crowd laughed and cheered, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Ash felt like a hero. But deep down, he knew this wasn’t the end. The Deadites would return, and when they did, he’d be ready.

After all, he was the chosen one. And as long as evil existed, he’d be there to fight it.

“Groovy,” he muttered, walking off into the night.