Fist Full of Credits: A New Apocalyptic LitRPG Series (System Apocalypse - Relentless Book 1)

by Craig Hamilton

  Sleek paneling of dark wood lined the walls and the furniture surfaces of the airport restaurant. The somber tones of the wood were in sharp contrast to the teal-painted metalwork that provided the framework for the furnishings.

  With no power, I resolved to find something I could drink without ice or mixers. I wandered behind the wood-topped bar and looked over the high shelf stock. If I wasn’t paying for it, I was going to ignore the well drinks.

  “This looks promising,” I muttered as I lifted an amber bottle with a yellow label onto the bartop. This Pennsylvania Straight Rye looked like something I could drink without a mixer or ice.

  I grabbed a rocks glass and poured a finger’s worth of the whiskey into it. I swirled the golden liquid in the glass and took a cautious sniff as I raised it to my face. Notes of vanilla and black pepper filled my nose in a strangely appealing combination. I sipped at the liquor tentatively.

  The first taste felt spicy and strong, with hints of florals and herbs that quickly gave way to a smooth, smokey finish as I let the liquor linger on my tongue. I swallowed and enjoyed the earthy aftertaste common to rye whiskey.

  This would do, all right.

  The bottle was nearly full, and I left it on the bar as I walked around from behind the bar to the front side of the counter. I perched on one of the high stools and sipped my way through the rest of the glass. I poured another round and kept drinking.

  Four strong drinks later, the bottle was half empty, and I still hadn’t felt the slightest tingle of a buzz from the whiskey. I double-checked the bottle.

  Eighty-four proof.

  I was drinking it straight, so I should have felt something by now. I frowned and checked my notifications. Nothing there besides the experience and question completion updates.

  I then brought up my combat log.

  Poison Effect Resisted.

  The message repeated. Numerous times.

  The System treated alcohol as a poison, and my increased Constitution combined with my Class resistances to nullify the effects.

  Damn. So much for getting my drink on.

  I poured myself another glass anyways and went back to the notifications I had accrued over the last day and a half.

  Level Up! * 5

  You have reached Level 13 as a Relentless Huntsman. Stat Points automatically distributed. You have 10 free attributes to distribute.

  Class Skills Locked.

  Woah. That was quite the jump.

  While I knew I had gained a few levels, only earning two free points at a time seemed hardly worth the effort when I had been busy with the ongoing quest chain. Still, I had nearly doubled my level in just two days of near-constant combat. Over two levels had come from quest experience alone, and as a combat class, I had reaped the lion’s share of the accrued group experience from all of the monster kills.

  Clearly, I needed to find a way to complete more Quests if I wanted to gain Levels fast.

  I really couldn’t complain about my speedy progress, but that “Class Skills Locked” notification really was getting old.

  Four of the free attribute points went into Agility, three into Strength, two into Perception, and the final point into Willpower. If my math was right and I put both free attribute points into Perception with my next level, I should hit the Class minimums after the automatic point distribution at Level 15, and finally unlock access to my Class Skills.

  I confirmed my selections and reviewed my status one final time.

  Status Screen

  Name:

  Hal Mason*

  Class:

  Hunter*

  Race:

  Human (Male)

  Level:

  13

  Titles

  Sharp Eyed (Title hidden)*

  Health:

  450

  Stamina:

  450

  Mana:

  370

  Status

  Normal*

  Attributes

  Strength

  29 (30)

  Agility

  56 (60)

  Constitution

  45 (50)

  Perception

  37 (40)

  Intelligence

  37 (40)

  Willpower

  28 (30)

  Charisma

  36 (40)

  Luck

  16

  Class Skills

  Hinder

  1

  Keen Senses

  1

  On the Hunt

  1

  Perks

  Gut Instinct

  Combat Spells

  Frostbolt (I), Minor Healing (I)

  I closed my status screen and took another gulp of the smooth whiskey as I looked at the last notification to await my acknowledgement.

  Quest Update: Free the children.

  You have identified the species responsible for the kidnapped school children.

  Rewards: 1,000 XP and 1,000 Credits

  I closed the update and hoped that the kids were all right, though given Borgym’s tales of the aliens, I doubted it. I shook my head and sipped my drink.

  The booze might not affect me, but the act itself brought relaxation, and I closed my eyes. I could almost imagine the murmur of bar patrons as they swapped stories before catching their flights as modern rock played from the speakers of the bar’s sound system.

  For a maudlin moment, I considered the fantasy. Would I go back to the way things were before, if I could? More than four billion people were now dead, if my back-of-the-napkin math was accurate for a planetary population of seven billion on day one. If that many had died the first day alone, I could only imagine what the death totals were at now.

  Still, despite my many close calls, I seemed to thrive. I’d come out on top when it could have just as easily been someone else who lived in my place.

  Maybe if my fire had drawn the jabberwock, Zeke would still be alive and I would be the one buried on the Point. Maybe he’d have reached his kids, none of them would have still been at the school when the Krym’parke attacked.

  I dismissed the flight of fancy that my thoughts had taken. No second guesses could bring back the dead or reverse the course the world had taken under the System.

  Would I go back, if I could? No. I had gained so much that to answer otherwise would be madness. I loved the abilities I had now and the way that my old injuries were only a memory. Still, a delusion remained buried in the depths of my mind, that somehow a lone individual could face down the might of the System and everything it represented. The blood of slain billions across the world called out for vengeance, and something inside me wanted to be an agent of that retribution.

  Someday, if I successfully reached beyond a Master Class, then I could consider payback for what had been done to Earth. But today… today, I was just a gnat. A gnat that would be swatted if I didn’t level higher and continue to push beyond my limits. I had seen how easy it was to fall against the monsters and spawns that the System threw at its inhabitants. Over and over, the System had reinforced the lesson that only the strong survived.

  Determined to stay the course, I opened my eyes and drained the last of the whiskey in my glass. I was about to push back my stool and head out when I heard a pair of footsteps enter the bar.

  Ipbar and Alryn looked around the dim space and tentatively stepped inside.

  I stood and reached over the bar to grab two more glasses. I filled them and pushed the glasses down the bar toward the new arrivals before I refilled my own glass.

  The two Pharyleri each climbed up onto a bar stool and sniffed at the whiskey skeptically. They glanced at each other then looked at me. I smirked at their expressions and gave them a toast before I tossed back a gulp.

  Alryn just stared at his glass, but Ipbar attempted to mimic my actions. The gnome started coughing as soon as he swallowed.

  I chuckled at the curdled expression on Ipbar’s face and took a more normal sip. Alryn duplicated the more reasonable tast
e and nodded appreciatively. He smirked at Ipbar, who still opened and closed his mouth repeatedly as he tried to clear the taste.

  “What the hell was that?” Ipbar finally asked.

  “Whiskey,” I replied. “Pennsylvania Straight Rye.”

  Ipbar just shook his head.

  “Not bad,” said Alryn.

  From there, the conversation turned to Galactic spirits and comparing them with various liquors I managed to find behind the bar.

  An hour and a half later, the two Pharyleri were well on their way to sauced. As crafters, their Classes lacked innate resistances, so they felt the full effects of the alcohol. Though I still wasn’t feeling the buzz, the gnomes’ antics raised my spirits.

  While clearly not a fan of whiskey, Ipbar had discovered an appreciation for spiced rum and continuously failed to duplicate the raised leg pose of the red-coated privateer on the bottle. The tipsy gnome toppled over on every single try and giggled before standing up to take another drink. Usually he remembered to set the glass back on the bar before he attempted the pose again, to predictably hilarious results. Several cracked and broken glasses littered the floor from the times he’d forgotten.

  “You’re cleaning that up in the morning.” I shook my head and chuckled.

  Ipbar burped and pushed himself up off the bar floor yet again as Alryn laughed at him. Only then did I see Borgym standing outside the bar and watching the two drunk gnomes with a raised eyebrow. The old gnome turned toward me as if to ask what was going on, and I shrugged. He sighed and walked over to me.

  “I sent these two to find out where you’d wandered off to,” Borgym said.

  “They didn’t mention you sent them,” I replied as I reached over the bar for another glass. The supply of clean glassware was running low thanks to Ipbar’s destructive habits.

  I poured Borgym a shot of the rye and handed it over. He swirled it and breathed in the aroma before he nodded appreciatively. Then he took a sip and held it in his mouth for a moment.

  “Not bad,” Borgym finally delivered judgment. “A little weak though.”

  “Weak?” I asked.

  Borgym pulled a flask from his Inventory and handed it over. I unscrewed the cap and threw back a slug.

  Fire swept through my mouth and shot down into my stomach in a raging torrent. Heat blossomed through my core and energy radiated out from my center to course through my body. Muscles quivered with anticipation, as if ready to explode into action at a moment’s notice. The alcoholic buzz I had missed hit me full force as this liquid intoxicant rushed through my resistances as if they were nonexistent.

  Borgym chuckled at my reaction. “That’ll turn your whiskers pink.”

  “What was that?” I gasped and handed back the flask.

  I rubbed the unshaven stubble along my jaw and hoped that Borgym’s metaphor wasn’t literal. After the genome treatment had erased my scars, I finally had a full five o’clock shadow for once. And while vibrant hues might work for the gnomes, I didn’t think it would fit me.

  He pushed the flask back toward me along the bar’s counter. “Keep it, you looked like you could use a good drink. That’s a forever flask of Argellian Fire Water.”

  “Uh, thanks,” I said. “What’s a forever flask?”

  Borgym pointed at a rune carved into the outside of the flask. “Channel your Mana into that when the flask gets empty, and it’ll fill right back up. Careful though, you may feel great, but your Willpower and Dexterity are both lowered when you’re drinking it.”

  I checked my status. Sure enough, I had a timed debuff that lowered both Dex and Will by several points each. On the other hand, my health, mana, and stamina regeneration had all temporarily increased. No wonder I felt so great.

  “Gotcha,” I said. “Use after a fight, not before or during. Thank you.”

  I took another taste of the fiery liquid, and it burned just as much the second time. Then I put the flask away in my Inventory, lest I get too caught up with it.

  Borgym joined me at the bar, and word soon spread to the rest of the clan. An impromptu wake formed, and this time, I was stuck firmly at the center of it. Fortunately, this gathering lacked the solemnity of earlier, and most of the Pharyleri had already returned to their normal cheery selves.

  I ended up making several trips into the bar’s kitchen and storage rooms for more glassware and booze as the crowd grew. My brief buzz cleared quickly while I worked to stack the pilfered supplies.

  With the party in full swing, I stayed behind the counter and slung drinks. One gnome used a spell to fill an ice bin behind the bar with cubed ice, and I added chilled drinks to the rotation. I wouldn’t claim to be a great bartender, but I could turn out passable drinks from the well stock. Long Island iced teas, gin and tonics, and black Russians were common, but I found that many of the Pharyleri shared Ipbar’s affinity for rum.

  I simply could not keep up with the drink requests and ended up leaving a case of rum out on the counter so they could experiment with the available combinations on their own. By the time I finally got a break, the bar was overflowing with the pint-sized Pharyleri. It was an odd sight, like a bar filled with kids.

  The drinking continued long after sundown. By the time the last of the Pharyleri passed out, the padded seats at the terminal gates nearest the bar were filled with sprawled and snoring gnomes.

  Even though I had been entirely sober for the last half of the evening, I still chugged water before I called it a night myself. Old habits died hard, and I had no desire to find out how ugly of a hangover Argellian Fire Water could leave behind.

  I found an empty corner and slumped down against the wall before I quickly fell asleep.

  Chapter 16

  The next week passed in a blur.

  I stuck around the burgeoning starport as the Pharyleri industriously developed the buildings they had claimed. Multiple engineers worked to install the infrastructure throughout the terminal that would support starship refueling and repair, as well as cargo and passenger transportation. The terminal gates that had formerly served the terrestrial aircraft industry were spread out to create larger bays so that massive transport ships would have wide berths with plenty of room to load cargo.

  One of the biggest draws of a Dungeon World was the export of raw crafting materials to the universe at large. The starport was designed to facilitate the loading of those raw materials onto transport ships in order to get the cargo to the desired destinations as fast as possible. While the use of portals or teleportation technology was faster than the physical movement of the goods, the cost scaled with the size and number of items transported. Bulk transportation for any method besides physical movement quickly became prohibitively expensive.

  I only picked up on all of those details peripherally though, since I wasn’t involved in any of the building or logistical projects. Or the cleanup of the bodies that littered the grounds. The birdbears had pulled a number of bodies into the underground tram tunnels that had to be dealt with.

  It turned out that the crashed plane on the airport access road was not the only wrecked aircraft. Several others littered the ground and the runways. It looked as though some of the pilots had attempted to somehow glide their craft onto the runways without any working engines. They had all failed, dooming their passengers when the planes smashed into the earth.

  Instead of dealing with any of that, my job remained hunting monsters.

  Even though the habitable buildings of the starport were now Safe Zones, none of the outside areas would receive that classification until the starport officially opened. So monsters roamed the outside, and the old chain-link fences that had bordered the airport did little to deter any remotely aggressive creatures. I patrolled regularly to eliminate anything that crossed onto the grounds.

  I killed creatures until my Inventory filled up, then I dumped the corpses off at the airport fire station. The fire trucks had been cleared out of large truck bays, and the building had been repurposed as a crafti
ng hub. Corpses went in one side and came out the other as processed raw materials.

  I was more than happy to trade my kills to the clan crafters in exchange for Credits. It saved me the gory work of harvesting the useful bits myself. Though the clan paid a little less than I would get from the Shop, it saved me the hassle of making the trip, and I could make the exchange as soon as my Inventory was full. The difference was offset in that I was also being paid for the kills made on starport grounds.

  Unfortunately, without the bonuses from Quests, my experience totals hadn’t risen as quickly as my Credit balance. My leveling had slowed until I finally hit Level 15 almost exactly a week after we had cleared the airport terminal.

  I had just dumped a pile of monster corpses off at the crafting station when I checked my notifications.

  Level Up!

  You have reached Level 15 as a Relentless Huntsman. Stat Points automatically distributed. You have 2 free attributes to distribute.

  Class Skills Unlocked.

  Finally, the notification I’d waited so long to see.

  I had put my two attribute points at Level 14 into Perception, so the automatic distribution when I hit my latest level now raised me over the minimum requirements for my Advanced Class.

  As I celebrated in my head, I allocated both of my new free points into Luck. The neglected attribute needed some love, and I’d certainly been lucky enough to survive so far.

  With the attribute selection handled, I opened my Class Skill page. Without points to spend, I hadn’t looked at it since enabling the Head Start perk all the way back on day one.

  Class Skills unlocked