Rebel Star: A LitRPG Post-Apocalyptic Space Opera (System Apocalypse Book 8)

by Tao Wong

  Condition Gained: Dimensionally Challenged

  Your body has been pulled into multiple dimensions at the same time. At this time, your body is suffused with the energy of multiple dimensions and is liable to take additional damage or scatter if subjected to additional dimensional strain.

  Effects: -30% HP Regeneration. Unable to use or shift dimensions.

  Duration: 124 Minutes

  As I shudder from the Mana headache and the sudden transportation, I can only wonder. What the hell was that?

  ***

  “Master Class speedster.”

  I glare at Ali as I hold a cold bottle of Apocalypse Ale to my head in the vain hope that it’ll help with my headache. Not that the rest of my body isn’t hurting, but the headache is the worst. The dimensional debuff added to the one I received from having all that information stuffed into my head is doing a real number on me. “Details.”

  “Not much. He’s got a movement-oriented speed Class—specifically, a Three-Winged Messenger.”

  “Winged? I didn’t see any—”

  “It’s a Class name, not a description,” Ali says. “He’s evolved his Winged Delivery Skill at the Advanced Level, then added more support Skills and dumped a ton of his attributes into Agility. Basically turning him into the Flash.”

  “Not that fast,” I say.

  “Depends on which version,” Ali retorts.

  “Kind of late for a speedster, no?”

  “Didn’t you hear the bit about attribute allocation?” A moment later, Ali flashes me the Status screen from my logs, something I’d been a little too busy to look at.

  Devereux Alb, Champion of the Imju Global Race (219th, 220th and 221st), Monster Slayer (Trolls, Phalax,…), Thrice-Pressed Courier, … (Level 27 Three Winged Messenger)

  HP: 1480/1480

  MP: 1430/1430

  Conditions: Blitzed, Occam’s Route, Slipstream, Future Projections, Lightning Reflexes

  “Low health. And Mana,” I say, frowning and tapping the screen to call up information.

  Occam’s Route and Future Projections let him plot out the best route to move in, giving him a little bit of precognitive ability. Lightning Reflexes lets him move even faster while Slipstream reduces friction issues. As for Blitzed, it’s a passive form of the Haste spell.

  “Passive build.” Ali shrugs. “He’s all speed, all damage, but in a big area fight, he’s not much use. Catch you alone though and he’s got the advantage. If you hadn’t closed the Portal after you, he could have followed. As it was, he might even had a chance—except then he’d be here by himself.”

  “Coward then.”

  “Not everyone has a death wish.”

  I do not have a death wish. If I did, I’d go pick a fight with a dragon. Yes, I know I’ve done that before. But, no, I really don’t. I just do what has to be done. And if I’m meant to die, then, well, I was meant to have died seven, no, eight years ago.

  “Whatever. If he’s this low, we just need to send a bunch of area effect spells, right?”

  “Skills. Spells are too slow. He’d see you cast and move,” Ali points out and I grunt.

  Even with my higher attributes, spells still take time to cast, unlike Skills. The higher our attributes, the easier it is for us to finish the necessary mental and Mana manipulation to make spells work. None of which is particularly useful for me since most of my area effect attacks are spells rather than Skills.

  “Should I buy one?” I frown, considering the thought then glancing at the pitiful state of my wallet.

  I earned a little from killing the invaders, but we only get a fraction of the Credits an individual has on them. Since neither Ali nor I had time to grab the bodies, we couldn’t even loot and sell them. The rest of my funds went into fixing up the ship since, well, a way out is a good idea. Still, I could probably get a loan. The interest might be ruinous, considering the situation I’m in, and I’d probably have to put up the various properties I have on Earth as collateral, but it’d be doable.

  “You could, though you could also try to slow him down. Less harm to your own, you know?”

  “Tangler grenades and the like?” I nod slowly. That makes sense. Web the area, or maybe even use a Skill to alter gravity or friction or something to make him move slower. And Ali’s right. If my first notice is that he’s right between us, using an area effect skill without a friend-or-foe designation would mean I’d be harming my own people. Not a good idea. Then again, if he only comes when there’s one of us…

  “In theory. Realize he’s got Skills to counter that. Or something as pedestrian as a monofilament wire laid out to tear him apart.” Ali shakes his head. “He’s not got this far by falling for simple tricks like that.”

  “Fun. Can I just let Bolo handle him?”

  The big Dragon Lord’s out with Mikito, having taken a twenty-minute rest to recuperate and rearm before they rejoined the fight.

  A glance at the floating notification screens shows the current status of the battle in both text and image form. We’ve lost all the fifth ring stations, having done better in the space battle but generally worse in the station fights. There are a few notable exceptions, like stations eight and seventeen, but the navy seems to have sent some of their best against us. And thus far, a lot of the higher Level rebels have stayed out of it. Some of it, I know, is strategic — keeping the fleet guessing and holding back their own major players is important. Then there are those Classes whose Skills are just better off being used when there are larger clusters rather than the piecemeal fights we’ve been having. And, of course, Station Masters and their like are confined to their own stations.

  Even then, our projections took a lot of that into account. And we’re still losing. It’s clear that our plans, the way we’re distributing our forces, are leaking like a sieve to the other side. It’s why they’ve focused their attention on areas where our best fighters aren’t. Throwing just enough to slow down people like me and Bolo, sacrificing those they don’t care about to our blades. Using the Messenger to try to trap me, separate me from the rest of the teams.

  We’re losing the information war. And with it, the rest of the war.

  I struggle inwards, drawing a few glances from the tired groups. The fights have bogged down a little as our opponents attempt to enter the fourth ring. We’ve blown the majority of the connecting tubes between external stations, but we’re forced by Rising Crescendo to keep a few connections in play. Still, that allows us to focus our forces, laying down enough covering fire and having people like Bolo and Mikito keep an eye on the tubes so the tanks can ignore the fire.

  They’ll push through eventually. Right now, the navy is still consolidating their gains, flying in more transports, building up their numbers and hunting down the few unlucky bastards who failed to get out in time. Eventually, they’ll make the push and we won’t be able to hold the tubes. Eventually, we’ll be fighting in the tunnels again, trying to hold them off. Making them bleed. And hoping that something, anything changes the brutal calculus of numbers.

  Chapter 19

  I block the swinging tail, the spikes on its edges piercing the thinned armor on my arms as I do so. I grunt, feeling the strain on my shoulders as I push against the tail and send it backward. As I reset my stance, a four-legged cat-like creature with swinging whips connected to its forearms jumps me, proceeding to attack with its whips. I duck sideways, but the attack pierces the pink-dressed armored figure standing beside me.

  “God. Damn. It!” I snarl and throw a cut at the whip-cat.

  My initial attack gets blocked, but the remaining floating blades keep moving, tearing the monster apart. White light bathes the creature as a beetle-like monster from above targets it with its mouth, sending healing energy. I don’t let it finish though, swinging my sword again and finishing off the cat creature by lopping off its head. As the beast dies, sending spurts of lime-green blood around, a howl erupts from the invader’s back lines.

  “Good job, boy-o.
Piss off the Beast Trainer,” Ali says. The Spirit is floating, legs crossed as he hovers above me, unseen by most. Still, the effect of his Elemental Force manipulation is clear as beams twist and jerk upward. He’s pacing himself, having gotten better over the past few days at knowing which ones to adjust and which to leave alone.

  I don’t have time to bother with Ali as I glance at the stricken pink classer. Except she’s gone, pulled back and replaced by a giant of a drake, a much larger version of Tim from Whitehorse. Unlike Tim, this one’s dressed in full sci-fi combat armor. Drakey’s armed with a head-to-foot glowing force shield and an anti-personnel beam turret in the other hand. Even as I look over, he catches a series of blasts on the shield and fires upon the lizard beast that’s pulling back on the Beast Trainer’s command. The cannon attack tears a hole in the lizard’s side, but it isn’t enough to finish it off.

  “Less talking, more fighting.” The voice that barks at us is a Drill Sergeant, an Advanced Class who’s more of a support fighter than an actual damage dealer.

  I’d get angry at being ordered around except that it’s part of the requirement of his Class Skill—Harsh Motivation. It gives a boost to Willpower checks and, more importantly, Mana and Stamina regeneration. It’s just one of the many passive Skills he’s got, all of them boosting those of us on the front lines. Everything from decreased casting times to increased accuracy or decreased Mana consumption for Skills. That his passive’s overlay and work with the rest of our Skills is even more important, since it’s easy for such Skills to clash.

  “Easy for you to say.” I finish layering on my Soul Shield then throw Blade Strikes down the corridor.

  A trio of bouncing balls pass the armored lizard, popping up in midair and generating force shields to catch my Blade Strikes. Two of them absorb the strikes without an issue. The third’s shield shatters and the wave of force in my attack cracks it open, dropping the ball to the ground, where it sparks futilely.

  “Redeemer! Redeemer! Redeemer!”

  The cheer from behind makes me clench my teeth, but I ignore it. Ever since we lost the fourth ring, the motivation and desperation level among our group has increased significantly. It helps that even those who have been holding back have joined the fight, reinforcing our blockades. Over the last few days, we’ve managed to stymie their progress at the connecting tubes, especially since one of the Station Masters had the awesome idea of reducing the durability of the tubes themselves. Now the invaders have to be much more careful in their attacks, while giving us an out from Rising Crescendo.

  I pause in my attacks for a moment, letting everyone else throw fire downrange as I wait for my Mana to recharge. The enemy has pulled back, hiding behind big force shields, moving armor plates taken and enchanted from monster drops or the occasional sturdy Classer. They return fire, but our mobile blockers come up to soak up the damage, creating another lull in the battle as people cycle out and Mana recharges.

  “They seem to be a little less aggressive today.”

  “Maybe they’re getting tired of banging their heads against yours. Always said you had a hard head.” Ali’s words might be light, but I can feel the thread of worry in his thoughts.

  They’ve not pushed us as hard as they could. For one thing, we’ve not seen hide nor hair of their Master Classers since they took the fourth ring.

  Rather than worry about it, I tap into the command channel. “Oi. The other connections?”

  Oi’s image pops up, looking worse for wear. Winning then losing your station in a span of a week must be all kinds of traumatic. “I told you you’re not meant to be on this channel, Paladin! There’s a dedicated channel for you Master Classers.”

  Unlike a regular military, since each of us Master Classers is a major power in ourselves, they have us on our specific channel. Unfortunately for Oi, I mute that channel for the most part, leaving the neural network semi-sentient AI to watch for information I need. Otherwise, I’d have to listen to the other Master Classers whine all the time.

  “Bite me.” I admit, I have little sympathy for his loss, considering we might all die. “Status?”

  “Holding. No sign of Master Classers or a major push,” I Shao cuts in.

  My lips twitch as Oi flinches, the woman not meant to be on this channel either.

  A change in the air, a tickling in my brain has me kill the connection and focus ahead.

  “Incoming!” I warn the others even as I reach for my Skill.

  When their force shields drop and the new series of attackers comes charging down the corridor, I trigger Eye of the Storm. The Skill focuses the sudden barrage of attacks on me, giving the rest of the team a chance to survive the initial onslaught. Even as I watch my Soul Shield shatter, my hands are forming the spell for an Enhanced Lightning Strike, holding it back till they’re close.

  When the superheated plasma and electrons jump through space, the attackers stumble and jerk to a halt. As if we’re a well-rehearsed team, the remaining defenders counter charge, intent on pushing our enemies back and adding to the Galactic Fleet’s losses. I drop my spell, following as I trigger Vanguard to catch up again. Whatever the fleet’s up to, it’s not something I can worry about right now. My job, at this moment, is to hold the line.

  ***

  When I walk off the line, my armor’s smoking and cracks show in a number of places. The thinner armor around my arms and shins, designed to allow mobility, is particularly bad, its durability down to a third of what it should be. I can’t help but wince, knowing that the cost of repairs for this—especially since I’m going to need to do it through the Shop—will wipe out every Credit I’ve earned from the fleet personnel I’ve managed to end. And more.

  “Are they trying to grind us down?” I ask Ali, too tired to focus my thoughts to send it at the Spirit.

  “Maybe.”

  I’m not the only one concerned about repair costs. Around me, I can’t help but overhear conversations among the returning defenders.

  “Where’s your axe?”

  “Lost. Rusted-hoof, twice-born Galactic ran off with it in his body. Couldn’t get it back before they pulled away.”

  “Cursed leaves. That was from that Level 70 drop, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah…”

  Another voice, coarser and harder. Another Sergeant or maybe just a Raider. “That is not a full loadout, soldier!”

  “Sir, I was not able to buy a fourth explosive grenade, sir!”

  “Oh, but you had money to clean those scales of yours real nice, didn’t you?”

  “Sir, yes, sir. I mean, no sir! I…”

  I tune out the words as I wend through the reserve teams. We’ve got a five-team rotation going on. One team on the front line, one team on direct reserve and ready to step in. The team I’m moving through is secondary reserves, ready to back up the front line if things go bad. Mixed in the reserve group is mine, while the other team that was backing us up has moved to the front line. The rotation is about two and a half hours, meaning that we can cover half an Irnis day with each rotation, ensuring a five-hour full rest cycle for each group. If you’re on reserve, if the team ahead does their job right, you can just chill unless things go to real hell. Such short rests periods wouldn’t be viable if not for all our high Constitutions, but because of them, we can hold. For now.

  I’m not the only once concerned about the slow grind in durability. I overhear more conversations as I move back to the Shop, heading for the sphere that’ll send me to my very own Shop. As I step into line, I listen to the people complaining about the costs, about how the Inner Crew isn’t doing enough.

  Even if the station has finally gotten around to subsidising repair costs for everyone, it’s only a subsidy. But while most people are complaining about how much they’re losing, I’m more worried about where the station’s limit is. Because there has to be a limit to the Credits the station and crew have.

  “Think you can dig into their finances? Figure out how their bank account looks?” I
send to Ali, hoping to assuage my worries.

  “Not my area of expertise, boy-o. But I’ll see if Harry can do it.”

  Ali’s right. Harry’s got the right Skills to figure something like that. Also, worst-case scenario, he could pay for it. If there’s one person who’s making bank, it’s the reporter. Due to Harry’s ability to record and provide evaluation and commentary on the entire war in real time, his records have been making bank. While none of Harry’s reports include secret information, the process of repackaging it and providing professional editing and commentary makes it special.

  “Thanks.”

  Having finally reached the end of the line, I slap my hand on the sphere and let it take me where it needs to. I leave Ali behind, no longer needing the Spirit to chaperone my purchasing. If there’s one thing to be said about all this time passing, it’s that I’ve picked up enough knowledge to not be a complete novice.

  When I fade back into existence, my equipment sparkling and new, I pull the data stream to the forefront. By the time I leave the area around the Shop, I’ve ascertained that nothing major changed while I was gone. A few more deaths, a couple of pitched battles. Mikito had to step in once, leading a reserve regiment to shore up our defenses. They also tried accessing us via space again, cutting through the connection rings once they passed the third ring’s shield and dropping people directly into space. Bolo was on that, part of the rest of the flying Classers and our remaining ships sent to pick them off.

  Tactically, it makes sense that they’d try to grind us down. There are more of them than us, and as we lose Credits and people, it’ll get easier and easier for them to win. We can’t get reinforcements, while the fleet can. On the other hand, once we lose too many people, we’ll fall back to the second ring, leaving even fewer connections and fronts for them to fight us on. It’s not perfect, but it’s viable for us. Unfortunately, even if we can delay the losses, according to current estimates, it’s clear that we’ll lose if we keep playing the defensive game.