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

by Tao Wong

  Let all those who seek glory step aside.

  The dance is now.

  Let the blood flow.”

  The traditional opening chant rolled over the silent participants. Some tensed, others relaxed as the words wrapped them with the bonds of tradition before unleashing the waiting participants on each other. Unseen, hidden beneath protective force shields, the orchestra struck their first notes, the swell of music rising as the beginning beats of the dance began.

  “Shall we?” Roxley said, stepping away from Bress. He offered the other man a deep bow, one that was mirrored by his partner.

  Even as he straightened, Roxley began layering his buffs and Spells on himself. Fleet Foot, Lord’s Grace, Shield of Nobility, Dance of the Night. Out of the corner of his eyes, Roxley saw Bress cast his own series of buffs. As the follower in the dance, Bress also layered party buffs on Roxley and himself, from the basic Mana Drip and health regeneration Skills to more complicated ones geared for use on the floor, like Falling Partners. As they straightened, above the dance floor, previously hidden beam cannons appeared, tracking each of the participants with no less than two turrets.

  “Overkill, no?” Roxley said. The beam cannons were just the start of the potential attacks that would be levied against them.

  “The dance has grown more vicious since you left.”

  Roxley flashed Bress a reassuring smile. “It’s fine. We don’t need to win, just last to the top three.”

  “You say that now.”

  “Have I ever lied?”

  Bress’s roll of his eyes was telling. But there was no more time, as the first note of the dance proper resounded. The pair spun in synchronicity, never touching. Each step was practiced and ordained, each dip and shuffle dictated by the centuries-old tradition of the song being played.

  As Roxley’s body moved without thought, matching Bress’s toned body, Roxley felt himself falling into the familiar routine without missing a step. The first few songs were traditional, a known factor meant to weed out participants who did not meet the fundamental requirements of the Ball. For the high-level participants taking part, not a single step was missed. Roxley took the time to listen to the commentators and locate the dancers they considered a threat.

  The music changed, abruptly and without warning to untrained ears. Of course, for the participants who knew each song by heart, each step drilled into their bodies through unending hours of practice, the surprise was no surprise at all. After all, this was a Ball, and the harmony of the music and the dance was paramount. As such, there were only a few points where a shift in the music could occur—and only a few songs that could fit at each point.

  Once more, the dancers shifted, twirling, dipping, and jumping in time. Roxley could not help but shoot an admiring glance at his ex-partner. Bress had improved, growing smoother, more aware of his surroundings and the dancers. Deftly, the pair guided one another around the dance floor, avoiding other pairs moving toward them in an attempt to disrupt and injure. Most of those attempts were half-hearted at best and easily avoided. None cared to anger the top-ranking pairs, not yet.

  The first major clash happened during the fourth change of song. There was little warning beyond the fluctuation in Mana as oil bubbled up from the metal floor. Two dancers in two different pairs were caught in the initial attack, their footsteps missing a beat. That was all that was required.

  The beam cannons opened fire, slamming into the defenses of the two dancers and their partners. Under fire, the quartet attempted to regain their footing and keep dancing, but the high energy beam attacks set the oil on fire, adding to the woes of the participants. A hastily cast Skill cooled the floor, layering a thin mixture of ice on the flames and killing the fire while providing marginally better footing. It was too late for one pair though, as they fell to the focused fire of the beam turrets before they could rejoin the beat. The other pair managed to escape the murderous attacks of the automated weaponry—only to be felled by a casually swung ice whip that sent the pair back into the ice field where the beam turrets refocused their attacks.

  “And so it begins,” Roxley said, watching the quartet get teleported out.

  0.51 Earth days before System Initiation

  Roxley flipped through the air, his body arcing horizontally between a pair of attacks and the beam attack from a nearby turret. He landed lightly, his feet tapping out a beat as he spun around his attackers, the tips of his fingers flashing across a pair of double-pupiled eyes. An involuntary flinch sent the dancer out of time, adding another quintuplet of cannon fire to their surroundings.

  “And that, Lords and Ladies, is why Lord Roxley is known as the Corinthian. Athletic and versatile, the perfect athlete, dancer, and socialite,” the announcer’s voice buzzed in Roxley’s head, piped in via X-127.

  While Roxley might hate the inane commentary, he had, on occasion, learnt something useful. And so, he listened.

  As beam fire bathed his former position, the pair of dancers struggled to stay on time, to re-establish their rhythm. As the hours ticked on, the cannons’ reset period increased, forcing the dancers to dodge for longer and longer while staying on time with the beat. Toward the end of the Ball, the beam cannon fire could last for tens of minutes for a single mistake. As the pair attempted to spin away, a prismatic wall of dust and nanites floated into the middle of their escape route, draining the pair of Mana and assaulting their bodies. In seconds, riddled with tens of thousands of minor cuts, the pair went off-time again and were riddled by more beam fire.

  “That leaves a total of eighteen participants,” the announcer burbled as the pair flashed and disappeared.

  A slight grinding sound came as the stage shrank for the next stage of the dance. Dancers who were near the edge were forced to move inward or lose their footing entirely, which none of them would survive—never mind their automatic dismissal from the competition.

  As Roxley met up with his partner once again, Bress flashed a thin smile. The second stage was where the fighting truly begun. Until now, the majority of the seeded pairings had been left alone, allowed to dance and pick off the lower-ranked opponents. Now, with only nine pairs remaining, it was time to get serious. Worse, the upcoming changes in the stage would increase in speed as additional environmental hindrances were put in play.

  “Incoming,” Roxley said.

  The first to come at them was Carz and Sopin. A shift in color and the previously sluggish ice whip changed, turning into fire that lashed out at the pair. Roxley twisted his body, almost going parallel to the floor as his feet never stopped moving. Bress, on the other hand, brought his hand up in a flourish, deflecting the whip into the sky. That movement sent the attack skyward before it retreated, a motion that Bress followed as he hot-footed toward their attackers. Carz moved to block Bress, only to find Roxley in his way. A shift in music had the pairs pause, their motions forced to change.

  “Already, C?” Roxley said.

  “It’s Lord Ishoia,” Carz said. “And it’s not personal, Graxin.”

  And then there was no more time to talk. Rather than draw his weapon, Roxley stepped closer to Carz, invading his personal space as his hands struck in short, staccato attacks. Carz refused to back off, the pair blocking and twisting, their feet never stopping while their postures stayed upright and proper as required.

  “Oh! Both the Corinthian and his partner and the Abiding Duo have begun fighting! New audience members, watch carefully, for this is a sight you might not see again. Unless Lord Roxley has permanently come out of his retirement. As long-time fans know, Lord Roxley’s abrupt retirement due to his ascension to the seat of his house was much criticized, many pointing out that the new Lord had shown no interest in running a holding—and certainly not one as troubled as the Seven Seas,” the announcer’s voice droned on. “And of course, the persistent rumors of the Abiding Duo’s imminent retirement have swelled in the last few months.”

  “As if that’d happen?” Roxley said as he jumped, dodg
ing backward.

  His actions were mirrored by Carz and not a moment too soon. An explosion erupted between the pair. Almost as if they had rehearsed their reprisal, the pair spun and sent Skill and spell shooting toward the impertinent youngster who had chosen to interrupt their fight.

  As Carz closed with Roxley after sending the youngster scurrying away, his smile quirked sideways. “Actually, this might be our last dance. We do need the Credits but…”

  “Oh?” Roxley hesitated, his left hand dropping.

  As if Carz had been waiting for that, his hand flashed toward the suddenly exposed chin. But instead of blocking, Roxley dropped his left foot backward, shifting himself backward. Carz’s attack never finished, his own attack a feint meant to cover the true attack of a kick to Roxley’s right. That attack was intercepted by Roxley’s right elbow, eliciting a grunt of surprise from Carz as he finished with a twirl and stamp. In seconds, the pair was bathed by beam fire as the mistimed motion on Carz’s part forced the pair apart.

  “You feinted, you sly dog!” Carz protested.

  “So did you.”

  That answer elicited a laugh from Carz. Using the beam weaponry to disengage was a perfect example of an exchange between masters of the dance. Yet Carz sobered up as he realized that his partner was being hard-pressed by Bress. The former ice whip had turned to flame, the shift in elemental nature doing nothing to stop Bress’s indirect attacks. Swirling balls of electricity and plasma flowed from Bress’s hands. They shot off into the distance at times, and at others, they curved to swirl around Bress in a protective shell. As more and more chasers of plasma and electricity formed around Bress, the more difficult it grew for Sopin to dodge his attacks.

  As Carz struggled to close in on his partner, Sopin narrowly dodged a plasma blast. The attack singed her green-gold hair, fraying the ends and infuriating the woman. Her anger manifested in a too-hard stamp of her foot and a slew of ice spikes that caught Bress in his hip and sent him stumbling. The ice spikes shattered under the brutal assault of additional beam fire, some of which struck Bress.

  “Bress!” Roxley snarled.

  A tap of his foot had Roxley disappear, the Flash Step Skill getting him across the space to catch his partner and spin him away, weaving the pair through the redoubled beam attacks.

  “Oooh! The Phoenix Dance!” the announcer cried out as Roxley continued to hold Bress close, ducking, twirling, and weaving around the ever-growing beam turret fire, shifting position to bring them closer to their opponents. “The Corinthian gambles once again.”

  A dry, mechanical voice interrupted the main announcer. “There is a 48.9% chance of a shift to a partnered dance at this time. This is not as much a gamble as the Honored Pierson might lead you to believe.”

  “Rubbish,” Pierson said. “That percentage calculation of yours is an outdated model. You know the distribution of music saw an algorithm change four Balls ago. Due to the purchase, I would point out, of someone’s mathematical model.”

  “Which shows that the model and the underlying assumptions are not wrong. And we have updated the model to take into account new changes,” the robotic voice said.

  Ignoring the bickering announcers, Roxley continued to weave around the dance floor. By this time, nearly three quarters of the beam cannons were firing at them, lighting up the entire dance floor in splashes of white and blue. No one, not even a Titled Master Class dancer, could avoid all the attacks. Even the bystanding dancers were struck as Roxley guided attacks into their floor space, sending them off-beat as they were struck.

  “Suicidal fool,” Bress said when the pair spun back to face one another. In the glow of the beam weapons and the thudding impact of bodies and the orchestra, anything they said would be missed.

  “But isn’t this more fun?” Roxley said, lips pulled back into a wide, devilish grin.

  “Fool!” But Bress could not hide the smile in his eyes or on his lips. Then Bress fell silent, for his job of keeping the pair alive and their health topped up grew more and more difficult.

  For long minutes, the music played and the destructive energy rained upon the stage. As time dragged on, additional attacks joined the stage. Nanites drained Mana. Webs of heat-resistant arachni silk clotted the floor. Buzzsaw blades fired from the edges of the stage flew in. Pillars of lava exploded through sudden gaps in the flooring. Participant after participant fell aside, their defences insufficient against the abuse being layered upon them as Roxley Flash Stepped, ducked, and pirouetted through their midst. Even the announcers had fallen silent, robbed of their words as viewer numbers racked up.

  Then the music shifted. In the small break, Roxley broke from Bress, leaving his partner as the music changed to a song that would not allow them to dance touching. By now, even their impressive resistances and Skills were insufficient for the incoming damage. The pair soaked up the blasts, sucking in the pain as clothing burnt, skin chapped, and hair crisped. In the end, when the fire finally ended, only six participants were left on stage. A glance to the side brought up Roxley’s Status.

  Health: 1376/ 2830

  MP: 1023/ 1830

  Six left. Roxley took a moment to inspect the remaining opponents. Iod and Amelu, the ranking pair in the group, and the newcomers, Tomaidh and Xoxe. Sopin had fallen under the barrage, forcing Carz from the floor by default. Iod had created a protective dome, keeping attacks away from them by using a Mana-intensive Skill. Since they were not directly targeted by the beam cannons, the duo had been fine—the amount of space within Iod’s dome just enough for them to continue dancing without issue.

  Bress dipped close, clapping his hands at the apogee of his movement. “Iod’s at half Mana now.”

  “How’d the newbies make their way through?” Roxley said.

  “Just like us,” Bress said. “Speed, coordination, and a little bit of stubbornness.”

  “Good regen rates then.” Roxley eyed the health and Mana bars of the two newcomers. At least those he could get, their Obfuscation Skill not sufficient to hide that most basic of System information.

  As if the participants had decided at the same time, everyone stopped their elegant posturing, purposely moving toward each other. Roxley kept an eye on the newcomers while Bress focused on the other pair. Iod and Amelu hung back a little, just a fraction of a moment, their steps a little smaller.

  Amelu was the first one to break the silence as she called to Tomaidh and Xoxe, “Let’s get rid of the antiques.”

  Iod shot a glance at Amelu but kept silent as Tomaidh answered, his voice hoarse. “What makes you think we need your help? They’ve already played their hands.”

  Roxley shook his head as Bress bristled, buffing himself. Xoxe, watching the quartet, had a half-smile and disdainful amusement in her eyes as she stared at the group. Feeling his hair stand on end, Roxley looked around for unseen danger, only for his eyes to widen as he stared past the force curtain holding back the lava.

  “Scramble!”

  Bress’s feet beat a double-time of steps to bring his body to the other side of the Flash Stepping Baron. As he retreated, Bress turned to spot the reason for Roxley’s command.

  Rearing out from the lava, a monstrous Elemental lava worm came crashing down on the force shields. Unable to handle the attack, the shields gave way, shattering and bringing in a wave of lava. The once-stable dance floor tipped under the weight of the Elemental as it landed, forcing the dancers to trigger additional Skills to maximize their footing. Liquid rock lapped at the floor, threatening the feet of the participants as the Elemental squirmed forward.

  As the Elemental closed in on the slow-moving pair, Iod triggered his protective Skill and staggered as the sudden loss of all his Mana broke his careful dance. Immediately, multiple beams focused on the dancers. Under the intense barrage of beam turrets and the explosive lava bursts, Iod’s protective dome cracked.

  “That was a mistake,” Xoxe remarked contemptuously. The woman was gliding along, clapping and spinning in time with
ease. There was a hungry look in her eyes as she stared at the dome.

  “Autoteleports are down. As are some of the cannons,” Bress remarked to Roxley as data scrolled by his eyes. The dancer had chosen to adjust his footing by triggering a series of metal chains that erupted from his body and sank into the floor around them, the Skill offering the dancer greater stability on the tilted floor.

  “Not good,” Roxley said. Unlike many others, the Baron chose a more direct route to establishing his footing, each graceful step denting the metal beneath his feet.

  Panicking, Amelu cried out as she reached for a pin on her dress. “I won’t die here!”

  Her contingency enchantment triggered, throwing her out of the dance floor even as the dome shattered, bringing with it a flood of lava and high-energy beams. Unable to react, Iod curled up reflexively, his health dropping so quickly that he was unable to trigger his own backup enchantment. Before help could arrive, the Elemental fell, covering Iod within its lava-formed body. Choked-off screams ended abruptly, and the System scoreboard flashed once with Iod’s demise, removing his name from consideration.

  “As I said,” Tomaidh said with a smirk. “We don’t need your help. Now, let’s end this.”

  “Roxley…” Bress sounded concerned as he felt the wintry silence coming from his partner. Long years of partnership informed his suspicion.

  Roxley faced Tomaidh, his feet continually pounding the floor as he asked Bress, “Can you hold her off for a few moments?”

  “Her and the elemental, you mean?” Bress tried for a light tone, but his voice trembled. “Thirty seconds.”

  “That’s enough.” Roxley darted forward as the music swelled and changed, a familiar tune appearing. Cowan No. 3 in E Major. Fast, percussive, allowing for myriad changes in forms and steps.

  Tomaidh smirked, hands opening as if to welcome Roxley. His smirk did not fade even when Purity appeared in Roxley’s hand, the soulbound weapon bypassing rules about equipment and clothing by being the prized weapon he had earned in a previous Ball. The sharp blade was thrust forward toward Tomaidh’s form, only for the dancer to open a gap in its body where the blade would land.