Arcane Survivalist: Apocalyptic Fantasy LitRPG

by Deck Davis

  Despite his youth, the thin growth of hair on the sides of his head had started to grey a little. Welcome to the greying-before-your time-club, thought Ash. He himself had started to grey when he was in his early twenties. There was something he liked about Chad. He reminded Ash of one of his old buddies who’d moved away after high school. Ash hadn’t seen him since the removal van had left his street, but he’d always meant to get in touch. Maybe when all this was over, he’d look him up.

  It was time for another spot of benevolence, Ash decided. Spending time in the goblin filled butthole of Pasture Downs was beginning to have an effect on his moral compass; it was turning worryingly toward the ‘good’ side. He wondered if he should balance it out a little with some more assholery.

  Maybe he could go kick a cat up the ass or something? Nah. He’d never liked cats, but they didn’t deserve a size ten up their bums.

  He looked at the young soldier and then gathered an arcane glow in his palms.

  “Stay still a second, Chad.”

  He cast Transfusion on him, giving Chad 30 of his own HP. Some of the color returned to his face.

  “How’s that feel?” he asked.

  “Great,” said Chad. “The ringing in my ears is gone, anyway.”

  Transfusion 95%

  Wow, this Transfusion skill was great; it seemed like it could heal anything. When all this was done, Ash thought he might become a surgeon, healing people with his arcane energy. The only problem was that he’d need to top up his HP by life draining something he’d killed, which didn’t really sound like something a doctor would do. What, you need me to cure your pneumonia? Hang on, let me just murder this cat first.

  Tony stood up. He picked up his rifle.

  “Feeling better, kid?” he asked.

  Chad gave him the thumbs up. “Feeling great!” he said, with an enthusiasm that would almost have been infectious if Ash weren’t so cynical.

  “Good,” said Tony. He raised the gun and pointed it at Chad’s head. “Now you can tell me why you were trying to kill us.”

  Despite the rifle pointed at him, Chad didn’t seem too worried.

  “Listen, I wasn’t the one who fired on you, okay? The guys have been acting really weird lately. I just want to get the hell out of here. I have orders.”

  On the horizon, Ash saw more army vehicles speeding over the rocks. There was a dozen of them. If all of them had four soldiers inside, that meant at least forty-eight M16-carrying recruits were headed toward them. It would only take one of them to spot their fellow soldiers dead on the floor for Ash and Tony to suddenly have the guns of an entire battalion pointed at them.

  Not the greatest odds he’d ever faced. They needed to leave, but they were sure to be stopped as soon as the soldiers spotted them.

  “Time for a little dress up,” said Ash.

  “What do you mean?”

  “We need to blend in.”

  They stripped the soldiers of their jackets and put them on. Ash took his from the smaller soldier, and the fatigues were tight around his arms and left his wrists uncovered. Tony’s jacket seemed to fit him well.

  “Welcome to the United States God Damn army,” Chad said, sarcastically.

  Ash gave him a mock salute. “Let’s hit the road. We’re taking the jeep. You’re driving, kid.”

  As they joined formation with the other army vehicles and then drove toward Pasture Down, Chad excitedly told them what he knew of the current situation.

  “Fort Knowles lost juice at the same time as everywhere else. We had hand-crank radios that let us stay in contact with other barracks, but they went silent soon after. My unit were going to drive east to Fort Allison, but General Powell died when his pacemaker blew. Things turned to shit after that, and people decided they wanted to go see their families rather than die out here.”

  “Know how that feels,” said Tony.

  “A guy called Colonel Beele took charge,” said Chad. “He’s meaner than a honey badger in a bad mood. He managed to stop most of the guys leaving, god knows how, though. It’s like he has this weird hold over them. Said we should raid the towns around us and take everything they’ve got.”

  “How far does this whole thing go? Has it spread beyond Pasture?”

  “We haven’t had much contact from anyone.”

  “So, what’s your plan?” said Ash.

  “I got family south of here. An uncle and an aunt. Think they were glad to get rid of me when I enlisted, but maybe they’ll be happy to see me with the way things are now.”

  “So, you’re deserting your unit then, boy?” said Tony.

  “We haven’t heard from the rest of the country, and Colonel Beele is out of his mind. Kept ranting on about a red ball that he’d found. He-”

  “Wait,” said Ash. “Back up. Colonel Beele found an orb?”

  Chad shrugged his shoulders. “He said he did. Then all the other guys starting acting weird. Staring at Beele like he pissed sunlight and shat rainbows. Doing every little thing he said.”

  “What about you?”

  “I...dunno. I guess it just never affected me.”

  The vehicle hit a rock and then jolted, and Tony broke their conversation by shouting out in pain after he hit his head on the wind shield.

  “God damn it, kid. Where’d you learn to drive, in the destruction fucking derby?”

  “Sorry pal,” said Chad.

  “Tony wants to get back to his wife,” said Ash. “He’s going to his ranch in Greenock. You know the way?”

  “Nope.”

  “I need to go get there no matter what,” grunted Tony. He turned and looked at Ash. “And you’re going to make sure I do.”

  “I’d like to make up a reasonable excuse and say I have somewhere else to be,” said Ash, “but the truth is, I just don’t want to help you with your ranch. I’m sick of Pasture Downs and I wanna be a million goddamn miles away. I wanna be so far away from this shit dump that the moon is a closer neighbor. But if I help you get to your ranch, you better give me a god damn vehicle.”

  “Screw that. You owe me, ass-stick. And I don’t owe you shit.”

  Ash punched the windshield. “God damn it.”

  The problem was, that he knew that Tony was right. After everything he had done wrong, and after all the things Tony had done to help him, he couldn’t leave without doing the same. He would settle the score and then hit the road. Once that was done, he’d consider his debt to Pasture Downs settled.

  “So, we’re driving to the ranch?” asked Ash.

  “Yeah. But first we better stop in town. Looks like the folks are knee deep in a puddle of crap.”

  Colonel Beele

  Colonel Beele sat on the bonnet of what the humans called ‘a truck.’ After his mind had been stored into red orb, sent through a dark matter portal and then discovered by a human host, it had taken a while to get used to. Luckily, his min-construct was well-versed on the ins-and-outs of this horrible dimension, and Beele found he could adjust.

  He'd been in this hellhole for a week, and he hated it already. The placed smelled back, the buildings were made of strange materials, and the people dressed like clowns. The problem was that he was so far down the Umbra ladder, that he had no choice but to hold a bucket up to his leaders’ arses and catch whatever fell out. Still, won’t be that way for long.

  That was how he found himself riding the dark portal as part of the invasion advance unit. Beele was like a servant for the Umbra. Before the dark mages came to dinner, it was his job to come here and set the table. That meant getting everything ready; finding suitable hosts for their red orbs, plenty of mana potions, and a bunch of soft-as-goblin-crap humans for them to use their spells and level up on.

  Luckily, his Gonodil Mind Poisoner class was perfect for this. He’d exercised mind control over some of the soldiers in the army base, leveling it up on them enough that he could spread his control wider. Before long he held all the soldiers under his mental sway. They followed his orders like mi
ndless zombies, and if any of them gave him back chat, he lashed them with a mental whip.

  Of course, those who had the potential to play host to a blue orb couldn’t fall under his control, but so far, he hadn’t seen that hidden power within any of the soldiers. He’d make sure to stay on the lookout for the telltale signs.

  He held the head of a dead shopkeeper in his hands. He lazily sliced pieces of skin away from it, then tossed them in his mouth. Humans didn’t have so bad a taste. Not a delicacy, to be sure. They wouldn’t serve grilled man-meat in the dining halls of Seleste, that was for certain, but it would do for now. He wouldn’t be stuck in this dimension forever; just long enough to get conditions right for the Umbra.

  After that, what would he get? A sack of gold? No, he didn’t care about that. He wanted the Red Stain; he wanted the mark of the Umbra burned into his chest so that he was part of the leadership.

  He watched as his soldiers dragged people out of shops, stripped them of anything valuable, and tied them up. He ordered his men to plunder whatever he could from the human buildings before the Rapto ones melded to them. The Umbra would need to eat what passed for food here on earth, and as such, the town centre was filled with piles of tin cans and things like that.

  He was just about to rebuke a soldier who wasn’t moving fast enough for his liking, when he felt something tug on his mind. It was like a hand trying to get his attention.

  “What in Osol’s hell?” he said.

  And then he felt the pain. He felt fire burning him, spreading over his skin, cooking his eyeballs. Arcane flames scorching his skin.

  When he opened his eyes, he was sat on the truck bonnet again, quite unharmed.

  Damn this place to the seven hells of Aziop!

  His crow was dead, then. That was part of his skill; being able to divide part of his mind and cast it into a different being. The smaller the part of mind he cast out, the smaller the creature it could possess. That was why he often used crows. Once a possessed creature died, his mind perished along with it. Until he was stronger, he wouldn’t risk putting a larger part of his mind into anything.

  So, what about the crow, then? Had the troll died along with it? If that were the case, it must have been one of the blue-balled morons, and that changed things. It meant he’d have a little cleaning to do before he set the table for the Umbra.

  Beele stood up. He lifted his foot back and kicked the trader’s head off the truck bonnet, where it hit a tied-up woman in the face. She screamed when she realized what it was.

  Beele allowed himself a short laugh, and then faced his men.

  “Listen up,” Beele told his soldiers. “Have your fire sticks ready.”

  “Fire sticks, sir?” said one of them.

  Damn, what was the word, again? His mind construct had told him once already.

  Guns, answered Fenderen, his mind construct.

  Beele had named it after his father, the only fellow Gonodil he’d ever respected. Growing up, he had learned to hate being a Gonodil. Most of them didn’t amount to much; they ended up using their mind-jumping talents as spies for lords and kings. Beele didn’t like staying in the shadows; he preferred the lime light.

  He stood up so that the men under his control could see him.

  “Ready your guns and stay alert,” he commanded. “We’re going to have visitors soon. And don’t harm a hair on their heads until I command you.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Careful, You’re Losing Your Head

  They parked the jeep on the edge of town so that they didn’t attract too much attention. Chad pulled his door handle, kicked open the door and leaped out. He took one big stride to stretch his calves and started doing warm-up lunges as though he were about to go on a run.

  “Never know when you’re gonna pull a muscle,” he said, when he caught Tony looking at him strangely.

  “Whatever keeps you supple.”

  “Remind me what we’re doing here again?”

  “I saw a truck in town, looked like army,” said Tony, sat in the passenger seat of the jeep. “Can’t see it from where we are now, but it was there. And you lard-asses, no offence, haven’t exactly proven yourselves to have Pasture’s best interests at heart. Need to make sure everyone’s okay.”

  Ash couldn’t argue with that. “Let’s go, then.”

  “Just gimme a sec.”

  Tony was looking pale; no doubt about it. He kept himself in better shape than most men, but the guy was in his sixties, and this must have been taking a toll on him. Still, he never moaned or complained, and there was plenty that Ash respected about that.

  Ash looked around. From the outskirts, the town seemed quiet. Too quiet. Everything Ash had learned about their current situation told him that he was more than likely going to be walking into a fight. He needed to be prepared. His HP was almost fully topped up, save the little HP he’d transfused to Chad.

  “FF,” he said, “as much as I like your stat updates, from now on I want you to make sure I only get them after battles. I can’t have you rattling round in my head while I’m trying to fight.”

  Done. I’ll just entertain myself poking around your memories then. Tell me, Ash, what the hell were you doing with that watermelon when your parents weren’t home?

  “Let’s not talk about that…”

  Ash walked over to the jeep and held out a hand out for Tony. The man didn’t take it, and instead grabbed the doorframe and heaved himself out. The color rushed back to his face, but Ash could tell it was because of how much he was straining to get out. He was tough, but he was old, and things were taking a toll on him.

  They could hear raised voices and banging noises coming from somewhere in town, so they decided to walk quietly through the streets. As they crossed through the town centre, Ash was surprised at how different it was. A mini-mart had transformed into a potions shop. A man stood outside wearing an apron splashed with multi-colored stains.

  He’s an alchemist, said FF.

  “Is he hostile?”

  Doesn’t look like it. Seems not just the Umbra are crossing over through the portal.

  He wondered what else would eventually leave Rapto and merge itself with earth. Dungeons? Castles? Maybe the famous Dr. Aitken would even make an appearance. Ash had plenty he wanted to say to him. He had a special greeting he’d give him to show his affection, one that started with IG and ended with NIS.

  When they reached the corner of the main street they stopped. The voices were louder now, and Ash saw what was happening.

  There was a green military truck parked lengthways across the road. Soldiers walked to it with arms full of tin cans and other supplies, put them in the back of the truck and then went to collect more. Ash watched as they raided the pharmacy, grocery store, outdoor clothing shop and even the utility emporium. Not far from their plunder there were four barrels with gas running down the sides. They must have been siphoning fuel.

  “How are their trucks still running? And their jeeps for that matter?”

  “Same as the mustang,” answered Tony. “Any vehicle that doesn’t rely on electronics is fine.”

  A group of Pasture Down citizens sat across from the truck, with Kenny at the front. They had their arms folded and most looked angry, though they were subdued by the M16’s pointed at them and the ropes around their wrists and ankles. Children clung to their parents’ arms, and most of the townsfolk avoided making eye contact with the soldiers.

  One man sat on the bonnet of the army truck, a meter off the ground. The bonnet of the truck was splashed with blood, and the man had some of it smeared around his mouth. It made him look like a warlord who’d just drank the blood of one of his victims.

  Despite that, Ash could tell his wasn’t a mighty warrior. He was a short man with a shaved head, and tiny dots of grey stubble lined his scalp. Ash didn’t know what the pins on his uniform meant, but given that he had more than the other soldiers, Ash guessed that this guy was Colonel Beele.

  A man broke f
ree from the Pasture group and ran until he stood below Beele. Ash recognized him as Frank Tealman, the owner of the Food O’ Mart which now belonged to the alchemist. He was known to have a particularly ruthless policy on shoplifters; get caught stealing in the Mart, and you’d get your ass handed to you. Ash wasn’t surprised that Frank was the only one who dared stand up to the soldiers.