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

by Tao Wong

  Sense Danger

  1

  Stealth

  1

  Class Skills

  None

  Spells

  None

  Perks

  None

  It seems that I gained several Levels in tracking—probably a result of chasing the pack—as well as four other Skills from my fight.

  With four points to spend, I put two in Willpower and two in Intelligence. I have noticed a surge in my strength, vitality, and senses from my automatically assigned attributes, but somewhere deep down, I know I need more Intelligence so I can be more like the humans.

  Am I doing this counting thing correctly?

  Given that, on subsequent tries, I am unable to allocate further points, I guess I am.

  And what were the other things? Class Skills? I have two of those, right? Upon the mental prompt, a new window opens.

  Beast Bonded Class Skills

  Wicked Claws

  Swiftfoot

  Adapted Observation

  ⬅ Improved Senses

  ⬇

  ⬇

  ⬇

  Rending Strike➡

  Blackpaw

  Sure Stride

  Toughened Hide

  ⬇

  ⬇

  ⬇

  ⬇

  Bulwark

  Rift Strike

  ⬅ Shadow Dash

  Zone of Eyes

  ⬇

  ⬇

  ⬇

  Reactive Assault➡

  Sacrificial Protection

  ⬅Dimensional Jaunt

  Greater Detection

  ⬇

  ⬇

  ⬇

  Calamity

  World-Stepper

  All-seeing Eye

  My Class Skills are divided into three categories: combat, mobility, and utility. Only the first row is actually available to me though. The second through fifth are only available at increasing increments of ten Levels each.

  As much as I want to take a combat ability, I’m in a corner at the moment.

  I have to find Katie and the pack before something terrible happens. Swiftfoot would let me reach them quicker, but without improving my senses, I can only follow the road. Perhaps I won’t even be able to follow that since the rain during the night has probably scoured it of the easier-to-track scents.

  Coming to a decision, I spend my first and second Class Skills.

  Class Skill Acquired

  Improved Senses (Level 1)

  Effect: User’s sensory range is expanded, allowing you to hear sounds of higher and lower frequencies, view an expanded range of wavelengths of light, and more. Additionally, Mana may be sacrificed to temporarily increase your Perception attribute by an equivalent amount when this Skill is activated. Observe Skills, Class Skills, and your Perception attribute will influence the effectiveness of this Skill. This Skill can be boosted with additional Mana.

  Mana regeneration is permanently reduced by 5 Mana per minute.

  Active Cost: 1 Mana per minute per point of Perception gained.

  Class Skill Acquired

  Adapted Observation (Level 1)

  Effect: Draws from the System to provide additional information on monsters and individuals encountered. Data is converted to be compatible with your Olfactory System instead of Visual System. Observe Skills, Class Skills, and your Perception attribute will influence the effectiveness of this Skill.

  Cost: 1 Mana per use.

  Immediately, I feel my vision growing clearer, sharper, as the effects of the Class Skills come into force. And I see something new. Red and green.

  Previously, green had appeared white, but now it has an actual color that is… green. Even I recognize that as a lame explanation, but there’s no other way to explain it. I see more, and that’s all there is to it. Something in my skull has changed, and green is suddenly a thing.

  I gaze at the corpse of the squirrel and find another surprise. Red blood on a brown coat.

  Red used to be a boring gray, but now it’s red. I really need to find a better way to think of this. And brown, which used to be a dark grayish-yellow, is a rich brown.

  I shake my head, ridding myself of the odd thoughts that bombard me as a result of my newfound intelligence. Thinking is uncomfortable. It’s like having humans in my head.

  My stomach growls, and I squirm out of the ground squirrel’s mouth, taking a bite out of its neck. As I do so, a gray box pops up with several hunks of meat inside, tender and juicy, and a brownish-gray pelt.

  After releasing the monster’s neck, I prod at the contents of the box with my muzzle, surprised when I touch the meat inside. The gray box has given me Tribute!

  Excited, I pull the food from the box, making the screen close.

  The body remains behind, but I’ve already gained too much meat from the gray box. I can’t eat it all, plus the body, in one sitting.

  Leaving so much food behind hurts me, but I scarf down as much of the Tribute as I can, then I go to find my collar. I left it somewhere, and I need to find it. The pack gave it to me when I was only a puppy.

  I backtrack to the bush where I slept and find the strip of red leather where I left it in my rush to defeat the Temptation. Giving a growl of approval, I pick it up then meander to the road, keeping an eye out for more monsters.

  However, no matter how fervently I search, I can’t find the pack’s scent. It’s there in faint hints and directionless splashes, but there’s no trail to follow. The clear unbroken line of odor was obliterated by the rain.

  I whimper. The pack’s gone. I’m lost. I’ll never see them again.

  Then I remember.

  I have seventy Mana in the tank right now, and I just got Improved Senses. Doesn’t it have an active ability? It allows me to spend Mana to increase my Perception.

  I immediately do so, spending four Mana per minute, and bump my Perception up to thirty.

  With that done, I take a good long sniff at the road. The world dilates around me. I can detect the gravelly, bituminous surface of the road, the smell of wet tarmac, and the overpowering fragrance of pines and damp needles. And beneath it all, so faint...

  There.

  I have it! A scent. The one I’m looking for.

  It’s faint, even at thirty Perception, but it’s there.

  However, I won’t be able to run while tracking. Which means…

  I boost my total up to thirty-five. But it’s not enough. At thirty-seven, the trail is far stronger, but it’s still not sufficient to track while running. I’m guessing forty won’t be either.

  Throwing good sense to the wind, I bring it all the way up to forty-five. The world expands around me. Even the water has a scent; it’s dusty and ever so slightly cool, but beneath that scent is another. Suspended within every droplet is the remnant of the path my pack took.

  I’m hemorrhaging Mana, losing almost one Mana every three seconds, and my regeneration can’t keep up with it, especially with the permanent reduction from Improved Senses. In the time it’s taken to look this far, I’m down to fifty-one out of seventy Mana. The boost to my Perception will last for three and a half minutes, then there’ll be nothing left.

  But the trail is there. Before me, my pack’s trail spreads out like a golden path. I take a moment to remember the exact direction. Then I deactivate Improved Senses, letting the boost to my Perception expire after sixty seconds have elapsed.

  But I remember the path the pack took. I race down the road, only turning on Improved Senses every now and then to confirm I’m going the right way.

  My Tracking skill is increasing at an incredible pace thanks to boosting my senses. It seems there are benefits to abusing a Perception score of forty-five at Level 3. As I run, I do the math. If I put all my future attribute points into Perception, it would take me five more levels to passively reach what I am already managing.

  And that’s insane.

  Able to smell and see everything, my Tracking ski
ll improves commensurately. I hit Level 7 in the skill with little to no difficulty, and my progress shows no signs of stopping anytime soon.

  My Stamina runs out faster than my Mana, given that I’m not using Improved Senses all that often. Not that it’s too much of a burden. I can still run for longer than I used to be able to by virtue of my improved Constitution.

  I run, stopping for breathers every twenty minutes or so. My improved Tracking skill is paying off. The trail is strong now and…

  In the distance, I see something.

  My humans’ car. Was it always red?

  I give a big, wolfish grin and tear down the road toward it. A notification about a high-level zone appears, but I swat it away. I’m close now.

  The car is abandoned, not wrecked like some of those in town. The tank smells as if it’s still half full of gas, which means the engine probably isn’t working. I know how fast these things go.

  If they’re not here, they went on by foot. And humans are soooo slow.

  I wait to recover my breath, then I set off along their trail, recognizing the smell of soap, cornflowers, and oranges that belongs to Katie. As I chase them down, a story in scent form plays out before me.

  They walked around the car for a while, likely scratching their heads as the first of many notifications they would see appeared. Then they set off down the road in the direction they were going.

  If I remember correctly, two of the elderly sometimes-pack, sometimes-not-pack live close by. Not that I could say so with any confidence. My memories from before I was able to increase my Intelligence are fuzzy.

  What was the word?

  Grandparents. That was it.

  But suddenly, they veer off into the trees, leaving bags and possessions scattered behind them. A new scent trail, one that reeks of rancid sweat and danger, joins up with them.

  Their scent strengthens slightly as they run, dead skin shaken loose.

  The sweaty one follows, and it’s big. Where the pack, my humans, dart through bushes, leaving behind a trail of broken branches and scattered leaves, the sweaty one muscles through trees, leaving a trail a blind cat could follow.

  It pursues them slowly, spending time picking up their trail.

  And it loses them.

  I breathe a sigh of relief and continue tracking my humans, now up to a Tracking skill of Level 9.

  The wind shifts, and I smell something different. Damp fur and the smell of rotten meat billowing from hungry jaws. There are other monsters nearby, and they aren’t following my humans. They’re following me.

  As if waiting for that thought, the dappled shadows beneath the trees nearby shift and realign. Four beasts with mottled black-and-green fur emerge, seemingly from the forest itself, tongues lolling out of open mouths and long strings of saliva dripping from between their teeth. Their bodies are oddly canine, yet more muscular, but their heads are crested with antlers that resemble the branching boughs of trees.

  Their eyes are beady and well adapted to seeing in shadow and sunlight. Their paws glide silently over wet leaves as they stalk toward me, gazes fixed on me. They’re predators through and through, obviously specialized in stealth.

  My Class Skill, Adapted Observation, activates as I see them. Information fills my mind, conveyed by sentences of phantom scent that twist within my nostrils.

  Keranid (Level 5)

  Three of them are Level 5, but one of them, slightly larger than the others, sits at Level 6. I step back from them. I doubt I can easily defeat these things.

  They growl at me, baring fangs with wolflike menace, antler-topped heads tossing in irritation. For a moment, I feel a twinge of offense at their canine likeness, but that’s replaced by fear.

  I turn and flee as the Keranids announce their pursuit with yips and baying howls. I risk a backward glance.

  They’re closing in, silently gliding over the forest floor on flashing feet.

  I push my body further and accelerate.

  It’s not enough to matter. These Keranids are built for speed, stealth, and pursuit. They eat up the space between us with every stride, veering gracefully around bushes and trees.

  They’re gaining on me. I can almost feel their hot breath on my heels now.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see an antler sweep toward my leg, aiming to trip me and send me to the ground—and to their jaws moments later.

  I leap just in time. The head swipe makes the lead Keranid fall back as it regains its balance from its failed attack, but it’s a temporary pause and it soon rejoins its pursuit.

  I might not spot them next time, or they might flank me, box me in. I can’t let that happen. I struggle to think up a solution, kicking my brain into gear.

  I glance back again.

  The Keranids weave around trees, antlers grazing leaves and twigs as they leap soundlessly over low-lying obstacles—but never getting close to trees or thicker vegetation.

  Realization slams into me like a two-hundred-pound squirrel.

  Their antlers. They’re affixed to their heads, so if they run too close to a tree, they’ll end up impacting a solid object, like charging into a glass door. And unlike the Glass Door of Doom, their necks will give out long before a tree trunk does.

  I spot a funnel of trees nearby, the verdant corridor’s gaps connected by banks of shrub and bush. I angle toward it, pushing myself faster as my Stamina drains.

  The Keranids are close now, but I break into the avenue of trees before them. I can feel their spittle flecking my hindquarters, and as the last of them enters, I veer through one of the smaller gaps, my body slamming painfully into a tree.

  But unencumbered by antlers, I make it.

  The Keranids screech to a halt, piling into each other as they struggle to stop.

  I remember my embarrassing days of struggling to fit through gaps too small to fit my frame, neglecting to go around the obstacle instead. I’m past that now. The Keranids aren’t.

  They thrash their antlers against the nearest gap of trees, not even trying to fit through the bushes for fear of becoming hopelessly entangled.

  But I’m not done.

  I turn on my heels and charge back at the one working itself through the gap. Restricted as it is, it’s unable to meet me properly, neither can it pull away in time.

  I stop short, and with a cheeky grin, I drop the collar from my mouth and seize its antlers in my jaws in a game of tug-of-war.

  Not expecting the change in tactics, the lead Keranid’s feet give out as I yank its head, then tangle its antlers between branch and bush and tree. It thrashes as it realizes, too late, what I’ve done. I crouch under and around it, then tear at its throat and exposed belly.

  It dies in moments. As fast and as strong and as stealthy as they are, the Keranids lack resiliency. A Level-up notification appears, but I dismiss it. The other three Keranids are still milling around behind their leader, trying to disentangle themselves and back away from each other. I don’t intend on giving them time to do so.

  Time for phase two.

  I bite into the defeated Level 6 Keranid, letting a gray box pop up. Once again, Tribute appears inside the box. My hopes have been realized. Like with the squirrel, the Keranid’s Tribute box contains meat, but more importantly, a rack of antlers, complete with a clean white skull.

  I pull the antlers out of the box and dart into the middle of the corridor. Balancing on the downed Keranid’s corpse, I wedge the upper end of the antlers into a crooked bough above the dead monster, and dig the tines of the lower end into the flank of the dead Keranid, providing another obstruction if the other three Keranids try to step over it. Then I dart back before they have time to snap at me. A notification about Tactics fills my vision, but I ignore it, rushing around to the beginning of the avenue of trees.

  The back Keranid’s flank faces me, and it struggles forward when it realizes I’m now behind it. Its frantic actions cause more chaos, and the Keranids press up against the wedged antlers and skull of their former
leader.

  I hamstring the Keranid and savage its spine until it falls still. I crawl over its cooling corpse and move on to the next.

  There’s a savage song in my blood, wild and primal, as I rip and tear through the monsters that make a mockery of the canine form. I work methodically, going for vulnerabilities and slicing the Keranids open with maximal efficiency.

  Yelps and whines fill the forest as I clean up, but by the end of it, all the Keranids have been disposed of and I have earned yet another Level and several new skills.

  Level Up! *2

  You have reached Level 5 as a Beast Bonded. Stat Points automatically distributed. You have 4 Free Attributes to distribute.

  1 Class Skill available to be distributed. Would you like to do so?

  I place two points in Agility and two in Intelligence. Both attributes were the only reasons I survived that encounter. Agility because I was fast and maneuverable, and Intelligence because of… well… that’s obvious.

  With that done, I pick up my collar and allocate my latest Class Skill. Wicked Claws.

  Class Skill Acquired

  Wicked Claws (Level 1)

  Effect: Natural weapons may now be imbued with mana to deal more damage on each hit. +5 Base Damage (Mana). Partially ignores armor and resistances.

  Cost: 10 Stamina + 10 Mana per minute

  Then I check my Status once again, noting the changes before setting off back toward where I came from.

  Status Screen

  Name

  Buck

  Class

  Beast Bonded

  Race

  Canine (Scotch Collie – Male)

  Level

  5