The Last Player Standing: A Dystopian LitRPG Novel

by Alexey Volkov

  “I wouldn’t say they rouged me up,” I mentioned. “In fact, it was quite the opposite.”

  They totally ignored my last remark and continued to talk to each other.

  “Yeah, right,” one of them replied to his friend. “I remember him. And his girlfriend. She got the looks.”

  I wondered how come they had met in the game. Sure, they were clearly friends in the real world, but how the heck had they managed to find each other in the game? Had they just chanced on each other? Or did they know of some game glitches my friend had told me about and were using them to their advantage?

  If the latter was the case, then I had to be very careful if I happened to encounter them in the main game.

  They continued to talk to each other about me as if I wasn’t standing in front of them.

  “Yeah, I sure remember his girlfriend,” one of them said. “She got such a pretty face.”

  “Who cares about a girl’s face?” The other replied. “Did you see her body? I almost came just running my eyes up and down her body.”

  I didn’t like the turn in their conversation. I didn’t like it at all. Uncontrolled anger began to rise inside me.

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind sniffing at her panties on a hot, sunny day,” the second guy replied and both of them chuckled.

  “Well, I bet you’ll get a chance to do it very soon,” the first one answered. “While you’re tasting her underwear, I’ll take her from behind.”

  I had had enough. I stepped forward and took a powerful swing at the closest guy, putting all my weight into the blow. It erased a smirk off his face and the guy flinched as my fist connected with his face. Yet without meeting resistance, my fist went right through the guy’s head as if he was made out of air.

  Yeah, right. Players couldn’t get hurt in the Preparation Phase. However much I wanted to pulverize those two assholes’ skulls into pulp to wipe the shit-eating grins off their faces, I couldn’t do jack to harm them. Not now anyway.

  I took a step backward and inhaled deeply to calm myself. My blood was still racing and my heart pounding in my chest. The pumping adrenaline had nowhere to go.

  Then I realized what I had to do. Spinning around, I raced toward where I had parked my Jeep. Once inside, I stomped down on the gas pedal. The car lurched forward with a squeal of tortured tires against the blacktop.

  Had to find Jennifer and warn her about these two assholes so that she watched for them when the main game started. Yet I had no idea as to where my girlfriend might be. Slowing down a bit, I brought up the map and looked it over. The island was big. It contained plenty of small ghost towns. No way I could visit them all before the time was up.

  The road I was taking led right to one of the ghost towns. It was as good as any other place to begin searching for my girlfriend.

  Soon a message appeared before my eyes.

  > Attention! Be advised that the Main Game will start in 4m99s.

  The town I was heading to didn’t even come into view yet. It was painfully obvious that I wouldn’t be able to find and warn Jennifer in time.

  Then the countdown appeared at the bottom left corner of my field of vision.

  > There are 59 seconds remaining…

  > There are 58 seconds remaining…

  > There are 57 seconds remaining…

  I was pushing the Jeep to its limits although I was well aware there was no point in doing so. I could see the town up ahead now, but it was still too far away.

  Another message popped up in front of me.

  > Get ready, player! The Main Game will start in 3… 2… 1…

  In the next moment, my world went dark.

  Chapter Two

  When I regained the ability of sight, I got aware of two things. First, I had materialized on the white strip of a beach. Second, I was completely naked, all my clothes gone. It was the main game all right. The developers refused to let players have even their clothes, forcing us to struggle for equipment.

  Off to my right was the blue water of the ocean and to my left, there was a stand of trees and thick undergrowth. I wasted no time taking cover in the nearby bushes and crouching to make myself as less visible as possible. The weeds were 3 to 5 feet in height, so while crouched, I was completely hidden from sight. Or so I hoped.

  I then brought up the map and quickly consulted it. There was a building to the north of my current location, which might contain some weapons and clothes. Had to get there fast before some other players looted the place.

  I rose from the crouch and started to run, weaving my way through the trees and underbrush. Low branches lashed at my nude vulnerable body, causing me to experience sharp pain and my Health Points to shrink somewhat. Each branch I hit dealt 1 HP of damage to my character. Seemed like almost anything could hurt you in this game. The game guide neglected to mention this.

  I continued to crash through the foliage, causing quite a din. Yet there was no way I could make less sound other than slowing down.

  It wasn’t long before the sharp crack of gunfire ripped through the air. I ducked my head instinctively but then realized I wasn’t being fired at. Someone was fortunate enough to have chanced on a weapon already. Dangit.

  I heard someone scream in pain and fright.

  “Don’t kill me, please,” someone cried out in a high-pitched voice. Had to be a girl and very young at that. “I’ve just started. I don’t have anything, don’t you see? Just let me go and––”

  The babbling suddenly ended as a single shot rang out.

  My heart pounded in my chest so loudly I was afraid anyone nearby could hear it and pinpoint my location.

  Gunfire crackled from different angles by now, snapping branches and hitting trees in explosions of chips of bark.

  Although I had read the game guide a few times and known that the first minutes of gameplay were the most dangerous, I hadn’t expected to find myself at risk so soon, even before finding some weapon and armor.

  I wondered where the heck whoever was shooting had found weapons at such early stages of the game.

  A bullet whizzed past my head. Another grazed against my left shoulder, sending a sharp pain from my upper arm all the way down to my wrist. I cast a glance at my HUD to check on my HP. The bullet had taken about ten percent of my character’s health.

  A hailstorm of lead continued cutting through the thicket, tearing the foliage apart, ripping leaves and shredding bark. I dropped to my knees and quickly crawled toward a fallen tree on all fours. Carefully raising my head just above the trunk of the fallen tree, I quickly looked around. Yet I still couldn’t locate the source of the gunfire. Luckily, it seemed like the shooters weren’t aware of me as well and had just hit me with stray bullets.

  After consulting the map to ensure I hadn’t lost my way toward the building, I got to my feet and burst into a race again. I ran as fast as I could, ducking my head when bullets whizzed past me. My stamina was draining very fast. Roots and vines tugged at my legs, threatening to trip me almost at every step. Low branches whipped at my face and naked body, inflicting damage on my character as slugs burned through the air as angry hornets. I gritted my teeth against the strain and raced on.

  Suddenly, I tripped over something and tumbled to the ground facedown. I rolled over on my back and looked at the thing I stumbled upon. It was a young woman. A bullet hole blossomed on her forehead, blood caked the grass beneath her head. Had to be her who had been screaming and begging for mercy a few minutes earlier.

  The woman looked very young. Probably she was only eighteen or nineteen years old. She was actually not a woman but a girl. My heart sank. Although I had known what this game was all about, only now was I able to fully comprehend the atrocity of this game. Not only the girl had gotten killed in the game, but she also was going to die in real life as well when the game was finished. Perhaps, her pod had already been deactivated, resulting in her death.

  I felt the sudden anger run through
my body like a million volts of current.

  The pounding of bare feet on the ground to my right wrenched me out of my reverie. I jerked my head in that direction and saw a man burst out from the nearby bushes. He was dressed in a T-shirt, a pair of denim pants, and a pair of boots, but as far as I could tell, he wasn’t armed.

  The sight of the dead girl and me kneeling over her caused the man to stop abruptly. He got it all wrong. His face turned white and he started to step backward, watching me in the eye.

  “Don’t shoot me, please,” he appealed to me. “I don’t have any weapons.”

  Yet his right hand going around and reaching beneath his T-shirt belied his words. He whipped a pistol from his waistband and pointed it at me.

  Before I could do anything, the silence was ripped by the crack of a machine gun. The spray of slugs burned through the air toward the man. A few slugs caught the man in his face, blowing chunks of bone and brain out of the back of his skull. Even before the man collapsed to the ground, I crawled on all fours and toward where the pistol had dropped his grip.

  In my periphery, I saw a player holding something along the lines of a machine pistol in his right hand burst into view from the nearby bushes. His stats popped up in my HUD.

  > Name: Slayer

  > Level: 1

  The player failed to notice me as I was on all fours, being well hidden by the deep weeds. However, Slayer started for the player he had just stiffed to see if there was any loot worth having. He was sure to spot me when close enough.

  Dang it!

  I fumbled for the gun that was lost somewhere in the grass, hearing the fast footsteps nearby. The player was running in my general direction.

  Where the heck is the freaking pistol, I thought as I kept on feeling for the gun in the foliage.

  The player was getting closer, about fifteen yards separating me from the armed player. He treaded toward the dead body, leading with the machine pistol and constantly checking his left and right for any threats.

  He was soon to discover me, that was for sure.

  Dang it! Dang it!

  My fingers touched the hard surface of the grip butt. Finally! Snatching the pistol off the ground, I glanced at it and its stats appeared in my HUD.

  > Name: Newbie’s Punch

  > Type: Pistol

  > Rarity: Common (white)

  > Level Requirement: 0

  > Damage: 75

  > Accuracy: 50

  > Fire rate: 10

  > Magazine size: 7

  It took me less than half a second to look the stats over.

  Although the pistol was named Newbie’s Punch it looked exactly like Glock 17. I quickly checked the load because I wasn’t all that keen on confronting Slayer armed with the machine pistol only to find out the pistol held no bullets. It would be very unfortunate.

  I thumbed the release button, dropping the mag into my left hand. The magazine was filled with 9mm cartridges and there was another one in the chamber, ready to go.

  I slammed the mag back in and jumped to my feet, bringing the gun up to eye level and aiming down the iron sights, ready to encounter Slayer.

  The player caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and spun to face me. A surprised look appeared on his face only to be replaced by a determined expression. He whipped his machine pistol up and opened up, spraying bullets in my general direction. His weapon was of inferior quality. While the fire rate of the machine pistol was good, the gun’s accuracy totally sucked. Although the player was firing at me from a distance of only fifteen or so yards, his bullets harmlessly whizzed past me.

  Nevertheless, I dropped to a knee to present as a small target as possible. Lining up the iron sights on the player, I stroked the trigger. Despite my careful aiming and my skill, the trajectory of the slug was off. Instead of embedding itself in the player’s skull, the bullet grazed against his left cheek, gouging a long scratch in his flesh that instantly began to bleed.

  A message appeared in front of my eyes.

  > +50 exp

  I knew I would receive experience points for injuring, as well as killing other players.

  The player screamed in pain, fear, or maybe both and burst into a race. He held his trigger finger down as he ran, sending a vortex of bullets in my general direction. One of them zipped so close to my cheek I felt its shock wave on my skin. I put pressure on the trigger and the pistol bucked in my hands.

  Once again the bullet failed to hit Slayer’s head. The player stumbled as the bullet caught him in the torso instead. Recovering his balance, he ran on.

  One after another two messages popped up in my HUD.

  > +50 exp

  > Congrats! You’ve just leveled up to level 1! You’ve got 1 skill point to assign.

  Suddenly, the rattling of the machine pistol ceased as the gun’s slide locked back. Cursing, the player tossed the now useless weapon aside and turned to run away. I depressed the trigger once more. This bullet found its mark. It caught Slayer above his left brow and burst out the back of his head, brains gushing from the rear of his skull.

  > +50 exp

  > +100 exp for the kill

  > Congrats! You’ve just leveled up to level 2! You’ve got 2 skill points to assign

  I glanced this way, then that to ensure no more threats were nearby. The muffled crack of fire reverberated through the air, but it was too far away to bother me.

  I checked my pistol. Since it had initially held eight cartridges, seven in the magazine and another one chambered, I had five bullets left now. Not much. Had to spend them sparingly until I found more ammo.

  I jogged to the player I had just iced. He was dressed in a pair of boots, a pair of jeans, and a black T-shirt.

  The stats appeared popped up before my eyes when I fixed my gaze on the T-shirt.

  > Name: T-shirt

  > Protection: 5

  > State: 74/100

  Since it was a very realistic game, one needed to don an article of clothing the way he or she would do it in the real world. So I pulled the T-shirt over the Slayer’s head and put it on.

  Then I stripped the pants off the dead player. Its stats popped up in my HUD as well.

  > Name: Jeans

  > Protection: 10

  > State: 100/100

  After slipping on the jeans, I started to pull the boots off the Slayer’s feet.

  > Name: Sneakers

  > Protection: 7

  > State: 98/100

  The clothes offered a tiny bit of protection. Perhaps after getting dressed, I wouldn’t get hurt by branches whipping at me when I raced between trees and bushes.

  After pulling on the boots, I took in my immediate surroundings once more. Nobody was nearby. Getting to my feet, I stepped up to Slayer’s machine pistol. Its stats emerged in my HUD.

  > Name: Predator

  > Type: Machine pistol

  > Rarity: Common (white)

  > Level Requirement: 0

  > Damage: 50

  > Accuracy: 25

  > Fire rate: 70

  > Magazine size: 30

  The machine pistol’s accuracy was half of that of my pistol. No wonder Slayer failed to hit me while running around trying to dodge my bullets. Since the player had no extra magazines on him and I had no bag to put the gun in, I decided not to bother picking up the machine gun and totting it around. It was a crappy weapon anyway.

  Some distant sound reached my ears, coming from the right. I crept to the edge of the thicket, parted the branches of the nearby bush, and peeked out of my hiding place. I spotted a silvery shape to the right, twenty or so yards off. The shape was moving along the beach toward my current position at a fast clip. It was an open-backed civilian pickup truck.

  I peered into the vehicle, the glare of the sunlight on the windshield obscuring my vision for a moment. I made out a player hunching over the steering wheel, but as far as I could tell there was no one in the shotgun
seat.

  The moving car could easily draw fire to itself. The diver could have made an effort to weave the truck from side to side to present as difficult a target as possible, but he didn’t do that, apparently being sure there were no threats at this early stage of the game. It was understandable. We were into twenty or so minutes of the game and the player had already come across a car while some other players hadn’t even found clothes yet. So he was extremely lucky, all right.

  The driver must have spotted someone, for the car suddenly lurched forward, kicking dust from around the tires, accelerating rapidly. As the truck got closer to my position, I realized it had a .50-caliber machine gun mounted in the back. Another player manned the weapon. Now it became obvious why the driver was so self-assured. Those two players must have stumbled on the vehicle simultaneously and instead of fighting over it, had decided to team up so one could drive the car while the other one could man the swivel-mounted machine gun.

  The vehicle pulled abreast of the thicket and slowed down. The player in the back readied the technical’s machine gun, pulling the charging lever back, jacking a round into the chamber.

  Although the truck was still far away from my position, it would be suicide to stay immobile. I spun, leaped to my feet, and darted into the thick undergrowth. Behind me, the roar ripped the silence. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the .50-caliber machine gun raking the trees from the left to the right.

  As it turned out, there were lots of players hiding in the bushes and waiting for things to calm down. Now they were forced to burst from concealment and run for their dear lives. The heavy bullets burned through the trees, ripping off leaves, snapping branches, and tearing into the naked players. The .50-caliber slugs not just penetrated their human targets but shredded them to ribbons, slicing off limbs and ripping huge chunks of flesh. The players’ agonized screams were drowned out by the roar of the machine gun.