The System Apocalypse Short Story Anthology Volume 1: A LitRPG post-apocalyptic fantasy and science fiction anthology

by Tao Wong

  “Why?” I asked. “Why did you kill all those people?”

  “Because I could,” Richardson sneered. “They were weak, and this is a world where only the strong survive.”

  “I don’t believe that,” I replied quietly. “You’re a monster.”

  “You’re a monster too,” Richardson said gloatingly. “You care for nothing but the thrill of the hunt, and you’re too weak to survive, just like everyone I’ve killed. That’s why you’re about to die.”

  Maybe he was right to call me a monste r, but I felt almost disappointed by the trite explanation. I’d thought a killer with such a body count would have a better excuse, even if only a deluded one.

  As the last of the health points disappeared from my visible health pool, I remained absolutely still and held my breath. This was my favorite part of the hunt. When the monster sensed victory and I got to snatch it from their grasp.

  Richardson still stared above me, fixated on my empty health pool as he waited for his experience notifications.

  Nothing appeared for him.

  Richardson’s gaze flicked to me, then back up at the empty health pool. Confusion crossed his face when he looked back down at me again. This time, I blinked.

  “What?” The killer recoiled in surprise.

  I pushed myself to my feet with no sign of my earlier injuries. I activated The Right Tool for the Job as I stood. The Class Skill instantly pulled weapons from a dedicated inventory space and filled both of my thigh holsters with new pistols, equipped a shoulder harness rig with a pistol under each armpit, and materialized a pair of MP5K machine pistols, one in each hand.

  Confusion warred with surprise across Richardson’s face as I kept my eyes locked on his. I relished his expression as I deactivated most components of my penultimate Class Skill, On the Hunt. With my true class and attributes no longer disguised by the System, my health bar snapped from empty to over three quarters full.

  Harold ‘Hal’ Mason (Level 29 Relentless Huntsman)

  HP: 710/930

  Wide-eyed, Richardson stared at me as he gaped. He closed and opened his mouth several times as he attempted to say something. “How?”

  “Maybe I am one”—I grinned savagely—“but I hunt monsters.”

  I raised the MP5Ks and squeezed the triggers of both automatics. Flame and thunder poured from each weapon. Normal recoil from fully automatic weapons would have been difficult to keep steady, but my System-enhanced strength was easily up to the challenge. Richardson attempted to dodge by diving to the side and rolling to escape the line of fire.

  Despite his attempt, my rounds stayed on target. The fire from my guns robbed Richardson of his momentum and knocked him prone. He stopped moving as my weapons ran dry. After only seconds of automatic fire, the thirty-round magazines were empty. I stashed the weapons in my personal System armory provided by The Right Tool for the Job and strode over to the broken body of the killer I had tracked through town.

  Richardson wore armor under his uniform, but the close-range fire of armor-piercing ammunition had left his torso a shredded, bloody mess, and air wheezed from a punctured lung. Even with those injuries, he would recover if given enough time. Time I would not allow him.

  I summoned a Smith & Wesson Model 29, once claimed as the most powerful handgun in the world, from my inventory and pointed the massive revolver at Richardson’s head. The hammer clicked back as I pulled the double-action trigger and continued to squeeze. The .44 Magnum round almost blew off the killer’s head. I fired a second time, finishing the job. Notifications flooded my vision. I quickly flipped through them to confirm the quest completion for tracking down the town killer.

  I touched the corpse and pulled it into another System inventory space with the Meat Locker Class Skill. Never knowing when the next conflict might come, I took the time to pull the spent weapons from my inventory, checked them for damage, and reloaded them. I then picked up the pieces of my Silversmith beam pistol, found my dropped Colt, and looted Richardson’s daggers. With those items picked up, only the pooling blood splattered across the pavement remained as evidence of the fight that had taken place. I glanced around to ensure I’d left nothing behind, but I quickly noticed that I was no longer alone.

  Surrounding the parking lot, Truinnar in the uniform of the town guard formed a perimeter that cut off any route out of the area. At the mouth of the alley waited a Truinnar more finely dressed than the uniformed guards who stood behind him.

  The guards eyed me warily as I approached the finely dressed figure, which gave me time to examine the man. He had the typical tall, slender build of the Truinnar, though he somehow seemed softer than the guards and most other dark elves I had encountered. The elf also seemed younger even than Dayena. He carried no weapons, clearly trusting the escort behind him for protection.

  Lord Aradin Daxily (??? Level ???, Baron of the Argent Sea)

  HP: 790/790

  The noble’s level and class were hidden, likely by a Class Skill, but the meager health points hinted at his level being quite low. Especially low if he was the man who, I suspected, ruled this town.

  “Adventurer Mason,” greeted the young dark elf in a high, nasally voice.

  “Lord Daxily,” I replied politely.

  “Thank you for ridding my village of that menace,” said Daxily, which confirmed that he indeed owned the town. “He was a drain on resources and lowered my village’s value.”

  “You knew he was the killer.”

  Daxily sniffed. “Of course. I know what goes on in my village.”

  “And you did nothing?” I asked, annoyed by his inaction in the face of lost human lives.

  “It was a human problem.” The dark elf waved dismissively. “I leave human problems to humans. But now you’ve become a problem for me by breaking the peace in my village.”

  I was seriously aggravated by his knowledge of the killer and his lack of action. That he now declared my action of taking out the killer as problematic made me debate whether to show this spoiled punk a real human problem. I kept my face blank, but something of my intent must have leaked out because two of the guards stepped up beside the noble, their weapons half-drawn.

  I examined the guards critically. I figured I could take the ones in front of me, along with the noble, but at least another half dozen guards were somewhere behind me. They would call for assistance, and I would certainly not survive if the entire town guard were called in.

  Before the situation could escalate further, a figure materialized out of the alley shadows. Hips swayed as the figured sauntered toward us, and I recognized the seductive silhouette of the musician from the bar. The sensuous dress from earlier had been exchanged for an armored jumpsuit, one of significantly higher quality than my own, but it still managed to give her slender figure mouth-watering appeal.

  Mental Influence Resisted

  “Take it easy, boys,” said Dayena.

  The sultry voice grabbed the attention of everyone in the alley.

  As if hit between the eyes by a hammer, the wide-eyed Truinnar noble seemed stunned. “C-countess? I knew you were in town, but what are you doing here?”

  Fantastic. The spoiled noble had revealed my potential employer as a ranked member of the Truinnar peerage. Her comments in the bar made more sense now. I needed to be wary, or else I’d quickly become buried in Truinnar politics. Unfortunately, my gut had the sneaking suspicion my caution was entirely too late.

  Dayena gestured toward me and looked pointedly into my eyes as a prompt appeared before me.

  Contract Initiated between Dayena Baluisa and Harold Mason.

  Do you accept? (Y/N)

  “The huntsman works for me,” Dayena stated confidently while she stared at me intently and ignored the other noble.

  I got the hint. She’d just made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. I accepted the prompt and resigned myself to working for the gorgeous elf in a deal that would clearly be in her favor.

  Contract Agreed Upon by Daye
na Baluisa and Harold Mason.

  Further Details? (Y/N)

  I ignored the prompt and hoped for a chance later to read through the fine print.

  “What? Is this true?” the young noble demanded, finally recovering from being hit with the full force of Dayena’s charms.

  “Yes,” I replied, though I found it safer to say as little as possible.

  “Fine,” Daxily huffed. “I want you both out of my village. I rescind my hospitality, Countess.”

  “We’ll be gone before daylight.” Dayena turned to leave the alley. “Come on, Adventurer Mason.”

  I followed the woman and nodded to the town guards as I passed. I ignored the spoiled noble. The guards tracked me warily, likely aware that any violence would end poorly for all involved.

  Once we reached the main street at the end of the alley, Dayena turned back toward me. “Is there anything you need in town before we leave?”

  “No. I only needed to finish the quest here, and that’s done.”

  “That was an impressive fight,” she said. “I enjoyed how you toyed with him. It almost reminded me of court politics back home.”

  “Speaking of politics,” I said with an arched eyebrow. “Countess?”

  Dayena shrugged dismissively. “It’s just an honorific. My family is complicated, so I have no lands or responsibilities. I want to forge my own path and not have it dictated to me. And now I have you to help.”

  A moment later, the woman climbed onto a sleekly armored motorcycle that materialized on the empty street in front of us. I summoned my bike from my inventory and mounted it beside her.

  “Help with what?” I asked.

  “Hunting monsters, of course,” Dayena replied with a wink. A helmet snapped up out of her collar and over her head. Tires squealed, her bike shot forward, and she quickly left me behind.

  Resigned, I kicked my bike into gear and followed the Truinnar countess off into the night. Hunting monsters, indeed.

  ###

  Some Class Details

  Advanced Class: Relentless Huntsman

  Relentless Huntsmen are elite combatants skilled at tenaciously pursuing bounty targets for capture or elimination.

  Class Abilities: +1 Per Level in Strength. +3 Per Level in Agility and Constitution. +2 Per Level in Intelligence and Charisma. +1 Per Level in Perception and Willpower. Additional 2 Free Attributes per Level.

  +60% Mental Resistance. +20% Elemental Resistance.

  Class Skills:

  Blood Scent - The Relentless Huntsman may select a scent present in the current environment and follow any object or individual to which that scent clings.

  Cost: 30 Mana per minute

  Meat Locker - The Relentless Huntsman now has access to an extradimensional storage location of 20 cubic feet. Only deceased bounty targets or creatures may be added to this location and must be touched to be willed inside. Mana regeneration reduced by 5 Mana per minute permanently.

  The Right Tool for the Job - The Relentless Huntsman now has access to an extradimensional storage location of 5 cubic feet. Items stored must be touched to be willed in and may only include weapons, armor, equipment, or supplies owned by the Relentless Huntsman. Any qualifying System-recognized item can be placed or removed from this inventory location if space allows. Cost: 5 Mana per item.

  Implacable Endurance - Reduces Stamina cost for physical exertion and activated physical abilities by 50%. Does not stack with other Stamina-reduction skills. Mana regeneration reduced by 25 Mana per minute permanently.

  On the Hunt - The Relentless Huntsman has a reduced System presence and increased ability to disguise their visible titles, class, level, ability scores, and any status effects. Effectiveness is based on the user’s skill level and Charisma. Mana regeneration reduced by 15 Mana per minute permanently.

  Intermission Two

  “There’s a runaway Truinnar Countess and a human slash monster bounty hunter wandering the continental United States,” Amelia said as she finished the recording, fingers tapping against the armchair. Once again, Amelia shifted position, trying to find a comfortable place to sit. The Svartfalar were taller and thinner than humans, but that was not the reason their chairs were so uncomfortable. It was because the chairs themselves conformed to the unusual rib structure in the Svartfalar torso, giving them additional support where it would be most comfortable. Which, for a shorter human, meant that it poked directly into their backs. They’d change the settings in this virtual world, but it’d require more knowledge than either of them had.

  “Yes. I’ll have to inform Lord Roxley about this. He will be quite interested,” Vir said, tapping on the armchair.

  “Going to track them down?” Amelia said.

  “Unlikely. Involving oneself in familial matters can be tricky. We will need to be on watch for them, but it is a matter for others.” Amelia nodded, content to leave it at that. She had more than enough work as it stood, being the go-between the human policing faction and their Truinnar Overlords.

  In silence the pair worked before Amelia choked down a laugh.

  “Something the matter?”

  “Nothing official,” Amelia said. “Though Lana might be interested in it.”

  Vir cocked an eyebrow and chuckled again, flicking a finger to pass on the video.

  “Just someone being a good boy.”

  Tooth and Claw

  by Alexis Keane

  Chapter 1

  Two rooms across, I hear movement. The big humans, my pack, are up.

  Almost regretfully, I stretch out all four of my limbs, my muzzle opening in a wide, lethargic yawn. As I move, my back presses against something soft, something small, smelling of soap, cornflowers, and oranges.

  Katie. My human.

  My tail twitches, tapping against the blanket, and I turn around quickly. I plant one of the big, slobbery kisses that Katie loves all over her face—from her tiny chin, to her button nose, to the wide, blue eyes between angelic blond curls.

  "Morning, Buck,” she murmurs, still asleep but reaching for me.

  My tail taps the covers a little faster, a little more loudly. But I don't want to wake Katie up… not yet.

  The big humans in the other room are awake. And that means one thing.

  Food. Tribute!

  I bound off the bed and out the door as the big humans chuckle in the other room, able to hear me even with their poor senses. I leap down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

  My ears—covered in downy, well-kempt fur—flop against my face as I charge toward the Tribute bowl, the metal tags on my leather collar jangling wildly. I sit by the bowl. A horde of cats couldn’t move me from this spot.

  Movement at the edge of my vision catches my attention.

  There! Through the see-through doors that always hurt my nose when I run into them. Temptation! Several of them. They stare at me mockingly with their thin, ratlike faces and their long, fluffy, bushy yellowish tails streaked with white and gray.

  SQUIRRELS!

  I want to chase them, but I keep my backside planted next to the Tribute bowl. Nothing will move me. Not even the Temptation.

  Then one of the squirrels runs up to the glass door, its little rodent nose twitching. I don’t like where this is going...

  Oh dear.

  ***

  "Geez, Buck, cut it out!” the human with the deep voice shouts from the top of the stairs.

  I come to my senses standing on my hind paws. My forepaws are pressed flat against the cold glass, claws scratching futilely against the cruel surface that keeps me from the Temptation. The squirrel is long gone now, so I drop back down to all four paws and turn around, seeing the human—the tall one with the square face, dark hair, and blue eyes—peering at me from above the banister.

  He caught me in the act!

  A small whine escapes my throat. Well... this is embarrassing.

  Wait a minute. Wait. I have a brilliant plan. Maybe if I forget about it, he’ll forget about it too.


  I purge the embarrassing situation from my mind and sit back by the Tribute bowl. Success! The big human—the humans call him Jeff—nods, then goes back upstairs. When he returns, he lugs two large bags downstairs, one under each arm, and places them by the door.

  Then he approaches me and pours a glorious stream of kibble into the bowl.

  My tail wags a little faster. But I do not move. I wait and wait and wait. It's torture at its best. Or worst? I’m not sure.

  The big human looks at me, then nods. "Go on, Buck. Good boy.”

  I recognize those words even if I don’t understand them. It means that it’s time to eat.

  Dignity to the wind, I descend upon the bowl, gobbling down my food before it runs away. It’s nowhere near as good as table scraps, but I’m not complaining. Much...

  I hear a tut from above, but I don’t look up.

  "Greedy pig,” Jeff mutters.

  Ah, this is the life!

  Once I’m done, I’m let outside to do my business.

  The Temptation and I have plenty of it, and it’s all unfinished.

  One spots me as soon as I spot it, and it breaks into a run toward the nearest tree. I, of course, being a proud and self-respecting canine, chase it, barking at the top of my lungs.

  That's right. You better run. Not so tough now, are you, little guy? The Glass Door of Doom can’t protect you now.

  I almost have it in my jaws when, with a graceful leap, it sails the last of the distance toward the tree and latches onto the bark with stubby claws. It skitters up the side before turning and chattering down at me. Mocking me.