Melee: A LitRPG Adventure - Book 1

by Wyatt Savage

“How many levels are there?”

  “There are currently six levels in this version of the Melee,” Sue answered.

  “Why ‘currently’?”

  “Because the Noctem reserve the right to alter things in the middle of the game.”

  “Like calling an audible in a football game?”

  “I do not understand the reference,” Sue replied.

  The siren continued to blare and the octopus-monster roared somewhere in the darkness. I stole a glance from behind the mini-van as—

  WHAM!

  The monster unleashed a harpoon-like projectile attached to a tubular opening on its face that speared into the side of the van, cutting through the metal like it was smoke, missing my head by inches.

  “Watch out!” Sue shouted. “The monster is attacking!”

  “No shit!” I bellowed in reply.

  “Don’t get killed here!”

  “You think I want to?!”

  My eyes pinballed and then I saw it.

  The holographic targeting reticle.

  It was hovering over the underbelly of the monster that was barely visible in the shadows. Off to the right of the reticle was a popup that showed the monster’s distance, its size, wind speed, weather conditions, etc. I could cause the popup to or reappear simply by blinking.

  The monster struggled to withdraw the harpoon, which was stuck in the van. It struck me that its exterior might be protected, but its belly looked soft and when I hovered the reticle over its stomach I could see that it wasn’t armored.

  Another form suddenly swung into my POV.

  A smaller frame.

  A kid.

  Ronimal’s son, Ronimal Junior!

  His eyes were as wide as manhole covers and he was clutching a baseball bat. The targeting reticle flitted to the young man and the information on my HUD changed to reflect what I assumed was Ronimal Junior’s information.

  Species: Homo Sapiens (Non-Participant)

  Chattel:Easton S250 Youth Baseball Bat

  Health:NA

  Level 1:NA

  Class: NA

  Kills:NA

  Vitals:NA

  XP:NA

  “Why do most of the boxes say ‘NA’, Sue?” I asked via Mindspeak.

  “Because he is not a participant.”

  “GET OUT OF HERE!” I shouted at Ronimal Jr., waving the gun.

  He didn’t see the monster, but he saw his father’s gun in my hand.

  His expression darkened and then I reckoned he was thinking I’d been the one who did his old man all kinds of wrong. That bat came back and he charged me and I dipped low.

  The bat nearly took my head off, but I managed to drop under it.

  I shoved Ronimal Junior to the ground and turned my attention to the monster. It bull-rushed me and I fired twice into the area highlighted by the reticle, one of the soft spots on its belly.

  One of my bullets struck an enormous yellow sack that exploded, spraying globs of mucous-like materials in every direction, including the van as I ducked.

  -4 Health Points! my HUD blinked.

  “The monster is angry now,” Sue said. “Be ready for an attack.”

  Sue was the master of the fucking obvious.

  I danced behind the van and the monster rolled right over it, overturning the machine, entangled in the undercarriage.

  “The monster is immobilized,” Sue said. “Now is your chance.”

  My reticle hovered on a spot underneath the van, what was labeled “Fuel Tank” in a blinking box.

  I withdrew to a safe distance and fired my second-to-last bullet as—

  BAROOOM!

  The van disappeared in a greasy-orange fireball that incinerated the monster. I stumbled back and dropped the pistol on the ground, absolutely shell-shocked, the air filled with the stench of torched animal flesh. The sweet smell of Kentucky-fried octopus monster.

  “Congratulations,” Sue said. “You have killed a Level 1 monster and gained 25 experience points. You also have survived five minutes in the Onslaught. For each minute you remain alive you receive one experience point, thus, you have obtained an additional 5 experience points, which is significant.”

  “Why?”

  “Because eighteen percent of your peers in a twelve-mile radius have already reached their journeys’ end.”

  My stomach knotted. “Are you kidding me?”

  “No. The number of domestic casualties is already sixty-eight thousand.”

  A popup showed a rolling list of peoples’ names along with photos, driver’s license photos and social-media images and the like, presumably a list of the sixty-eight thousand dead.

  “But the game just began.”

  Silence from Sue.

  The statistics on my HUD blinked to reflect a status update:

  Species: Homo Sapiens (James, Logan)

  Chattel:.45 AMT Hardballer

  Health:10/10

  Level 1:1

  Class:Fighter

  Kills:2

  Vitals:BP – 123/80; T – 98.03f; RR – 14bpm

  XP:30

  Before I could ask another question, I heard a growl over the sound of the siren and turned on my heels. Ronimal Junior was staring me down and he had the .45 in his hands.

  “You did it,” he said, waving the gun in his trembling hands. “You did that to my father.”

  “No, it was that thing I just killed,” I said, pointing at the charred monster.

  “Bullshit.”

  He brought the gun up and then his hands just…blew away.

  His digits dissolved into a greenish dust, almost like pollen. The gun clattered to the ground and his arms blew away too.

  I moved to help him, grabbing him around the chest, trying to comfort him and then POOF! he was gone, blown into the air like a dandelion head.

  “Sue,” I said softly, trying to process everything. “What happened?”

  “He was not between the ages of eighteen and fifty-four,” she replied. “Thus—”

  “He reached his journey’s end,” I muttered, finishing her sentence.

  I noticed that the green particles, what had once been Ronimal Junior, were spiraling up into the air, collecting with plumes of green dust, what I surmised were the remains of others who hadn’t met the age requirements for the Melee.

  Then it hit me. Mom and Dad!

  17

  I tore down the street, my eyes glued to the HUD. The boxes were populating with a steady stream of information, but I was focused solely on my house.

  Tearing open the front door, I found Dad first. He was splayed on the carpet in the living room. Mom was not too far away, their fingers touching. The stats on my HUD reflected what I already knew, that neither of them were participants in the Melee.

  “DAD!” I screamed.

  I dropped to the ground between my parents and grabbed at them. They both rolled over weakly, their color bad, their breathing labored.

  The tips of their fingers had already begun to disintegrate, little green flecks rising slowly into the air.

  “NO, NO!” I shouted.

  Dad elbowed himself up and forced a smile. “I knew you’d make it back.”

  I nodded and grabbed Mom by the arms and gently pulled her over next to me. “You can’t go,” I said. “You can’t!”

  “Don’t worry about us, Logan,” Dad said, his hands slowly turning to dust.

  “It doesn’t feel bad,” Mom said, a smile on her lips. “It’s warm…so very warm.”

  “You can’t leave me!”

  “You have everything you need now, Logan,” she said. “And we’ll be together again one day. We were both so proud to be your parents.”

  I hugged both of them and then leaned into Dad, who whispered, “We love you more than life.”

  And then they were gone.

  Just like that.

  Dissolved into the green nothingness that rose, hovered in the air, and then trailed a stiff breeze back out through the open front door.

&nbs
p; I cried out because they gave me life. They were the first ones to tell me that I was loved, and the first ones I loved back. They were my everything and then they were gone.

  The goddamn Melee siren was still sounding and I tried to rub the green residue from my shirt, but couldn’t. My parents left a stain on my clothes when they dissolved. Staring at my HUD, I saw a map of the neighborhood, the surrounding areas, even the state. The map was topographical, 3-D and incredibly detailed, with so many tiny red dots that I couldn’t count them.

  A box with the words, “Do you have questions?” blinked.

  “Fuck off,” I growled, fisting tears from my eyes.

  The box blinked again.

  “FUCK OFF!”

  I brought the .45 up and placed it against the side of my head. My parents were dead and the aliens were laying waste to my world in the form of some freakish game. A wave of complete and utter blackness rolled over me, blacker than the bottom of a well at midnight, along with the softest, sweetest voice I’d ever heard. It wasn’t Sue’s voice; it was something else, something foreign, alien, and it commanded me to pull the trigger, to give into the nothingness.

  “Bliss comes at the end of a barrel,” the voice said. “Remember this: the things that make you successful will ultimately be self-destructive.”

  “Don’t talk to me…”

  “You deserve to die, just like your friend, the one that you killed in that accident.”

  For a moment I lost hope and had the strongest desire to do the deed. And then I remembered what Dad had said, about how the only thing that can’t be forgiven is giving up, and the sadness turned to anger. I was pissed and wanted to get a little payback against the bastards who’d destroyed everything, so the gun came down and the voice vanished.

  “Sue?”

  “Yes,” the alien voice answered.

  “What the hell are those red dots in my head-up display?”

  “Fellow competitors. Adversaries. There are approximately three hundred and seventy-eight thousand within a thirteen-mile radius.”

  A popup showed a neverending list of names and faces. The other participants in the Melee.

  “Adversaries?”

  “Correct. Participants who will compete against you.”

  “There’s no way people are going to turn against each other that quickly.”

  “Your statement is inaccurate. We have studied your world for some time—”

  “How long?”

  “Since the time of Australopithecus. We were there during the time when great beasts walked your world. The Noctem are one of the reasons they walk no more. We were also there observing your ancestors, Homo neanderthalensis, Homo soloensis, Homo floresiensis, and all the others. The Noctem know that it takes very little for your species to turn against each other. There is no flight. There is only kill or be killed. Remember, justice is nothing more than the advantage of the stronger over the weaker.”

  A bunch of the red dots suddenly disappeared. “There are now three hundred and sixty-eight thousand, two hundred participants,” she added.

  Jesus, had that many died during our brief conversation?

  Squinting, I zoomed into its details as windows and sub-windows began to propagate. Things began to blink on the map and I focused on those as the imagery became increasingly more detailed. I was soaring over roads and fields and then something resolved itself on the map, the unmistakable outline of one of the black walls I’d seen before.

  “What is that?” I asked.

  “The first wall,” Sue answered.

  “The one near the Severn River?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s on the other side of it?”

  “Level 2.”

  I noticed a timer up in the right corner of my HUD which blinked: 5:43:00.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means you have precisely five hours and forty-three minutes left to reach that wall using any means necessary. Please remember that no communications with third-party emergency services will be possible. There is no aid, comfort, or assistance of any kind coming. Good luck.”

  I quickly calculated the distance. There were approximately sixteen miles between my present position and the wall. It was highly unlikely that I’d be able to reach it on foot, particularly since there were people and things out there just waiting to kill me.

  Staggering to my feet, I reeled into the kitchen and found something on the kitchen countertop. An envelope addressed to me. I pocketed the envelope and found the keys to Dad’s Accord. A popup blinked, congratulating me on acquiring the car keys and I mentally shut it down, not needing to be reminded about every little thing I picked up.

  Exiting the house, I climbed into the Accord and powered it up.

  My HUD flickered and flashed. A warning signal blinked.

  The windshield exploded and a system prompt on my HUD said: P v. P combat.

  “What does that mean, Sue?”

  “Participant versus participant,” Sue replied.

  Little curds of busted windshield showered me as I gaped outside to see Steven and Elise Bruciak. Steven clutched a smoking shotgun and Elise had a knife the size of a lawnmower blade. Their clothes, like mine, were stained green, which I imagined had been left as a result of the disintegration of their children.

  I kicked my door open and rolled outside as Steven fired again.

  The shotgun’s steel shot sprayed the side panel and punctured the fuel tank as gas started dribbling onto the ground.

  “They took them!” Elise screamed. “They took our children away and you helped them!”

  I crawled under the Accord and looked out. I could see the Bruciaks from the knees down as my HUD blinked a shortened version of their stats, which omitted their names:

  Species: Homo Sapiens (2)

  Level:1 - 1

  Class:Fighter(s)

  Health:10/10 - 10/10

  “They killed my parents too!” I screamed, hoping that might stop them.

  “Oh, bullshit!” Steven thundered in response. “BULLSHIT!”

  He fired again and this time, one of the metal pellets winged me in the cheek, drawing a few droplets of blood.

  -1 Health Points!

  My stats changed to:

  Species: Homo Sapiens (James, Logan)

  Chattel:.45 AMT Hardballer

  Health:9/10

  Level 1:1

  Class:Fighter

  Kills:2

  Vitals:BP – 127/80; T – 98.01f; RR – 13bpm

  XP:39

  “Don’t come any closer!” I shouted.

  Steven did and fearful that he would kill me, I fired my last shot.

  The bullet from my .45 tore through his left knee in a great gout of red.

  -4 Health Points!

  The shotgun went flying out of his hands and down he went, injured, collapsing to the ground in a writhing heap.

  Scrambling out from under the car, I shuttled forward, grabbed his gun and turned it around on Elise Bruciak.

  “Each human kill is, in most instances, worth 25 experience points,” Sue said. “Or what you might call XP.”

  “Explain.”

  “If you kill another person, you receive 25 experience points. If someone kills you, they will receive 25 experience points.”

  “Who the hell cares about points?” I replied.

  “Points are all that matters,” Sue replied. “Experience reveals that you will need, at minimum, 750 points to gain the equipment and weapons needed to ascend to Level 2, at which time you will be awarded an additional 2000 points.”

  “You can trade the points?”

  “Exchange them.”

  “How?”

  “Acquire enough points and all will be revealed.”

  I aimed at Elise and she dropped her knife. I decided at that moment that I didn’t give a damn about 50 points so I decided to spare their lives.

  “Go on!” I shouted. “Get out of here!”

  Elise helped her hu
sband up and backtracked, noting that my HUD was highlighting the two full magazines of ammunition for the .45 near what was left of Ronimal Senior.

  Sue complimented me on the find and I pocketed the two magazines, secreting the .45 near the small of my back. Then I snatched up the shotgun, surprised at how calmly I was processing everything.

  “Congratulations, you have acquired a Winchester SXP 12-Gauge pump-action shotgun manufactured by the Winchester Repeating Arms company in 2016. The weapon currently holds four Double-X high velocity turkey loads.”

  My stats reordered to reflect:

  Species:Homo Sapiens (James, Logan)

  Chattel:.45 AMT Hardballer; Winchester SXP 12-Gauge

  Health:9/10

  Level 1:1

  Class:Fighter

  Kills:2

  Vitals:BP – 128/80; T – 97.09f; RR – 14bpm

  XP:44

  I could see that I was indeed gaining more experience points simply by being alive, but I was going to have to start doing many more things if I had any hope of acquiring the 750 points that Sue said would be needed to get to Level 2.

  Stopping in the middle of the street, I shot one final look back at my neighborhood and the house I’d called home for most of my life.

  The light from the silver sphere was still visible, the Melee siren continued to wail, fires raged in the distance, and the air was filled with the sounds of gunfire, explosions, and screams. It was, quite literally, like hell on Earth. I needed a place to lay low, to get my bearings and come up with a plan. That’s when I remembered the pact, the one I’d agreed to with Dwayne and Lish.

  It was time to leave.

  It was time to head to Barry’s Market + Convenience Store.

  Figuring the main roads would be clogged with cars or manned by heavily armed adversaries who’d love to gain an extra 25 XP by knocking me off, I loped through the woods at the back of our neighborhood. I scanned my HUD and noticed a little yellow halo hovering over sections of the map. I found that I could zoom down to the ground simply by focusing on the halo. The map revealed that the safest path forward lay through the trees, so I moved out.

  Sections of the woods were eerily illuminated from the light cast by the silver spheres. I didn’t run into any people, but I did see small herds of deer and other animals running toward me and away from the strip-mall where the store was. My HUD reflected that the animals were not worth any experience points.