The System Apocalypse Books 4-6: The Post-Apocalyptic LitRPG Fantasy Series

by Tao Wong

  Ingrid stabs the healer, putting her knife into its throat and ripping sideways. It gurgles, not dead but disabled, clutching at its furred throat. As it falls down, Roland appears from the shadows and pounces on it, jaws clamping on his head and crushing while its feet claw at the body. I know that strike, Massive Pounce, and it adds a stun effect, along with massive bonuses to damage. A part of me pities the healer. A very, very small part.

  Meanwhile, the puppies target the Bastion. Shadow goes low, ripping into ankle and knee, while Howard goes high, clamping its jaws around a hastily thrown up arm. Strong as the Master Class might be, physics still have a say in this world, and he gets taken down to the ground. As the Bastion struggles, Anna lashes out with her flames at the Jarack Advanced Classers, her attacks reflecting off the remaining shield and cooking them from within.

  Caught outside the fast-created shield wall, Mikito and Lana are attacking it with fury, doing their best to wear it down while Carlos stays back, his gun held ready to deal with reinforcements. Without the Master Class controlling it, the shield wall seems to be lacking its offensive abilities, which is good. Redford is working his magic, ripping a slowly growing hole with his magic while the others get ready to scurry in. The tiny hole is sufficient, allowing Sam to send in drones to lay down additional cover fire.

  Surprise keeps the Galactics on the backfoot for a few precious seconds, but soon enough, the Galactics recover. The puppies get thrown aside, blasted away by the Bastion with a Skill. The Master Classer stands up, looking only mildly damaged after having been chewed upon. While searching his surroundings, he bats Roland out of the air when the tiger pounces at him. Smartly, the First Nations woman has disappeared already, her job with the healer complete. Unfortunately, the remaining pets aren’t as lucky. The Advanced Classers turn their attacks on Anna, who takes a beating, her fires doing little to ward off the blades and beams.

  Lana screams, watching as Anna is hurt. Carlos and one of Johnson’s men focuses on the fox, doing their best to prop up the pet’s health. But it’s a losing cause with so many attacks focused against the creature. A final swing sends the fox flying, her body nearly severed in two, limp and bloody. Still, her sacrifice was not for nothing. Johnson and his men spill into the gap, turning the Advanced Classers on them. Mikito darts in soon after, headed straight for the Bastion.

  As the Master Classer turns his attention to the assailants outside, a spike erupts from the wall, intent on tearing apart Johnson’s shield breaker. Another of his men steps in, holding forth his hands and stopping the spike cold. There’s strain on the soldier’s face as his Mana shield diverts the attack, but he can do nothing as another plunges into Lana’s side, ripping open her shoulder.

  A rumble, this time much closer to us, distracts everyone for a moment. At the same time, the teleportation lock disappears and I bare my teeth. Barely a minute has passed since the attack, but already Km is on her way out. I decide to put a stop to that, as well as trigger my side of this desperate plan. I step backward then rush the wall, springing at full speed.

  Blink Step. Once. Then again.

  Vertigo rushes through me at the sudden shift of space again and again, but it disappears as quickly as it comes, allowing me to use my built-up momentum to slam into the newly emerged Oracle. A part of me notices that she seems to still be slightly damaged, but I’m mostly focused on my sword, the newly formed blade twisting in her body. Surprisingly, it only gets a few inches deep. A moment later, Thousand Blades is activated, blades forming next to my hand as I twist the sword, forcing the newly formed blades to arc toward her body. Surprised or not, she flips backward, gracefully avoiding my attacks while a rock shelf lifts me into the air.

  Twisting while airborne, I focus. Not on her, but on the Portal I need, creating it so that the waiting teams can stream in to help, splitting my focus between Ali’s and my views. Flying through the air as I am, the hastily cast Portal hangs two feet above the air and slightly canted, but that doesn’t stop the Hakarta who are waiting.

  “Teams Two, Three, Five, and Six are scrambling. We need the Portal for four minutes, Redeemer,” Alvarez barks over the newly restored communication channel.

  Rock wraps around me, quickly engulfing my body. I grunt, feeling my connection to the Portal waver a little, and I’m forced to rely solely on Ali’s view and our connection. As the rock constricts me, my concentration wavers before I bite my lip and focus. Armor, meant to stop projectiles and beam weaponry, does nothing to stop the attack as she compresses my body, crushing bone and stealing air from my lungs. My health drops and I realize I have no shield. I curse my carelessness, having paid so much attention to the fight and my friends’ situation that I neglected my own preparations.

  I focus through the pain, biting my bottom lip as my attention splits. Spells form, boosting my regeneration first. Then healing to fix bones that are slowly being crushed, skin that sizzles as the Oracle adds heat to the liquid rock around me. But still, I stay within her attack, forcing her to concentrate on me as the Portal spits out our friends. Trading pain for people.

  Of course, like me, the caster can split her attention. Many of the first Hakarta to jump in are now engulfed in thigh-high mud, trapped. But rather than let it stop them, the Hakarta are grabbing and tossing incomers out of range of the spell, accepting the pain to allow their friends to engage the Oracle. Seeing her attacks failing to stop them, she falls back, a pair of rock elementals flowing up from the ground to slow her attackers.

  “Move, move, move,” chants one of the Hakarta. Galactics or not, it seem certain words are universal.

  In the shield, Mikito and Ingrid are sparring with the Bastion, forcing him to pay attention to them while Roland sneaks in to land his occasional attacks. The puppies and drones have joined forces to harass the Advanced Classers, the drones throwing out beam attacks, napalm, and flash bursts to confuse and hurt, as well as the occasional vertical shield to block attacks and jar bodies. Meanwhile, Johnson and the remnants of his team in the shield are picking off each Advanced Classer, pouring fire and flame while Carlos does his best to heal everyone. Already, the soldier who had guarded the hole opener is on the ground, unmoving.

  “Boy-o, she’s not channeling anymore,” Ali informs me, bringing attention back to my own condition.

  I realize he’s right—the rock’s no longer crushing, just sizzling. I Blink Step and pop up behind the Oracle.

  “Boo,” I whisper hoarsely. Not that she can hear me, not through my helmet.

  Once more, I thrust my sword forward, lunging into full extension. I use Cleave and Elemental Strike at the same time, adding to my attack. The blade, empowered by Skill and physics, plunges through her empowered, buffed body.

  Blade Strike. Twisting with my hips, I rip the sword out sideways, the initial edge of my attack burrowing through her body to aid my movement. My blade catches, barely shifting a few inches in her body, but the scream of grating rock and the fresh, oily liquid that flows from her speaks of grievous injury. Even as I recover, a Hakarta in what I can only describe as spiky football armor tackles her away from me. He’s closely followed by his entire team, each of them piling onto her, the rubble of her stone elementals a testament to their effectiveness. As I move to join them, a razor cloud of dust and shattered earthen flooring rises, cutting into exposed skin and blinding those within it. Reflexively, I stagger backward.

  “Redeemer!” Johnson shouts, dragging my attention back to the shield.

  I grunt, surprised to see that the Bastion is not only still standing but managing to float away with little damage, his shield now constricted around his body. Globs of energy form around the shield, shooting forward once in a while to attack the gathered Advanced Class team members, forcing them to block the attacks. He might be mostly unharmed, but not so the Jarack Advanced Classers. Mikito, unable to reach the Master Classer, has thrown herself against the unfortunate Galactics. The last member falls, unable to get his footing under the combined as
sault of the Samurai and the puppies.

  I glance at my Mana, snarling as I assess the fight. Not enough. I will Sabre to activate a Greater Mana Potion and feel the hypodermic needle punch into my skin. The liquid rushes through my body, increasing my Mana. Another thought has me drawing upon the Mana Battery to fill my empty tank. It’s a rush, but it makes me shudder slightly too, as it always does. But it’s enough, more than enough.

  “Foolish. You bugs will not survive,” the Bastion hisses, his voice slithery and cold, beady gold eyes glittering with malice. He’s confident, safe in the protection of his shield.

  “Not today,” I say, raising my sword above my head.

  I call forth the Skill, stepping forward and cutting as I do so. Around me, twelve ghostly swords appear and repeat my attack, Blade Strikes arcing out from the newly formed swords to smash against the Bastion’s shield, each strike thrice the size and intensity of any I’ve conjured before. It smashes into the Bastion’s already weakened shield, shattering it and cutting into his flesh.

  Moments later, Carlos fires his little grenade / potion launcher directly at the Master Classer. The Bastion snorts dismissively, seemingly undamaged from that attack, his body already visibly healing. Other attacks from the team bounce off him, but then a look of surprise flashes across his face.

  “Ikaaaaaaaaaaaa?” the Bastion screams as he plunges to the ground, gravity reasserting itself on his floating form.

  “He can’t use Skills for the next few seconds!” Carlos shouts, alerting us of the opportunity he’s given us.

  Without coaching, the rest of the long-range attackers open up, throwing Spells and Skills at the prone form. Everyone opens up. Behind me, I hear the continued battle as Teams Two and Three keep the Stone Oracle busy, shattering walls and setting the dried ground on fire as that tempest of rock howls.

  I’d help, but reeling from Mana loss, I find myself sitting down. I’m not completely out of Mana, but with barely a hundred left, it’s close enough that I feel sick. Mana sickness from overuse and overdrawing of Mana is a major issue for those of us with high Mana levels. It’s a weird phenomena since even a year ago, this level of Mana would have been my maximum. The loss of Mana is almost like drug withdrawal, or what I think a drug withdrawal would feel like.

  By the time I recover, drawing on my Mana Battery to fill the hungering void in my body, the battle is nearly done. Tough as the Bastion might be, without his protective Skills, his health falls like a waterfall under the combined assault of our teams. Even the close-range fighters like Mikito have long-range attacks which they add to the pile, wiping away the Bastion’s health. As I raise my hand to attack, a notification pops up.

  Level Up!

  You’ve reached Level 49 as an Erethran Honor Guard. Stat Points automatically distributed. You have 3 Free Attribute Points and 1 Class Skill Point to distribute.

  One nice thing about this world is that if you pay attention, the System clues you in when someone is well and truly dead. Small things like experience gains—though just by being part of this war, I’m getting a small trickle of experience constantly—and sometimes, bigger notifications like this one. I push the notification away, looking for the Oracle. Instead, I see the two teams tasked with her attack coming back. Half of them split off to deal with the carnivorous cactus inside the compound.

  “Report,” Johnson says to one of the other soldiers.

  “Sir, the last target is currently engaged southwest with the Marines,” the soldier replies. “General Miller informs you that you and the Redeemer are on independent command for now. Forces from Fort Irwin are recovering from the attack conducted by the Oracle and the Bastion.”

  Johnson’s lips tighten, obviously understanding what the soldier’s implying. If they’re recovering, it means the two Master Classers must have laid on the hurt. Still, there’s nothing much to be done about it now, and if there is revenge to be taken, we’ve certainly done so. The smoking corpse that Ingrid is busy looting is more than testament to that fact.

  “We dealt with the Oracle?” I say, frowning as I turn back. A flicker of shame crosses the faces of the teams designated to handle her—at least those not covered by full-face masks. “What happened?”

  “She created a series of stone simulacrum. Simulacra? Your English is very imprecise. By the time we destroyed them all, she’d slipped away,” one of the Hakarta answers. “Probably an Earth Movement Skill or Spell.”

  I grimace, hating that we didn’t manage to finish off both the Master Classes. That was the point of our attacks after all. Now, we’ll have to track her down again. If we can.

  “Redeemer. By your leave, I’ll take my men and attempt to penetrate the next settlement to remove their shield. This settlement shield still needs to be destroyed and its City Core taken,” Johnson says, offering his “recommendation.”

  “Sure. Team Two, hit the shield generator. Team Three, we need communication back. Johnson, get us a way into the next settlement. The rest of us are going to hit the City Core. We’ll keep hitting them until they turn around and hammer us. And remember, we’re the distraction now, not the main event,” I say, glancing at the teams. I get nods all around, and I find myself smiling grimly. “Good. Move people. We’ve got work to do.”

  Chapter 16

  Hours later, we’ve managed to take down the shield generator and take the City Core for the section of town that comprises Alhambra and parts of south Pasadena. A part of me is amused by the first, thinking more of a classic board game than desert-baked avenues.

  “Anything?” I ask as we walk out of the Core room, Kim already patched in and feeding me settlement data.

  Ali and Kim feed much of the relevant data to the teams still in the settlement, directing them to the last few holdouts we can locate. Luckily, it’s something that can be done in the background, leaving me mostly free from the buzz of conversation.

  “Nothing,” Alvarez says, shaking his head. “General Miller indicates that they’ve pulled back all forces to the north and south. Both armies are advancing with minimal resistance and casualties. Scouts have yet to ascertain the enemy’s gathering point, but it’s believed to be somewhere in south Los Angeles.”

  “You thinking they’re looking for a knock-out fight?” I say, frowning.

  If they’re willing to give up land to concentrate their forces, whichever army they hit will suffer unless we can join forces. Theoretically, once we’ve got all our people together, we’ll have the advantage of numbers. But it doesn’t matter if they hammer us to pieces while we’re gathering.

  “If they’re smart, sure,” Alvarez replies. “The general is leaning toward that, so the armies are moving to link up in Anaheim.”

  A few additional words of clarification and a borrowed map gives me an idea. Within the next few hours, the Fort Irwin army should be at south LA, hammering on the settlement shield. The Marines will take longer, possibly as long as a half day since they’ve got at least two settlements to punch through. Of course, they could go around, but there’re dangers in that too.

  “We moving to link up?” I say with a frown.

  I hate giving back the City Cores, especially after we’ve paid for them with blood and tears, but as I glance sideways, I note that the soldiers and my team are already interfacing with the local resistance, who’ve come out of the woodwork. A slightly bitter part of me wonders where they were during the actual fighting. I have to chide myself for that uncharitable thought—the resistance has been conducting hit-and-run tactics for the last year, so it’s no wonder they weren’t exactly set up for a final push. As it stands, their need to hide has keep their Levels suppressed—which is probably another reason they’ve survived so far. Still, they’re numerous and enthusiastic which, all things considered, is the best we can do.

  “Yes. Once everything’s settled.” Alvarez adds leadingly, “But we don’t require you or your team at this time.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I should get going,” I say. “Tho
ugh communication will be a problem if I leave.”

  “Here.” Alvarez reaches out, a small boxy contraption in his hand.

  I take it, my eyes lighting up slightly as I read the notice.

  Joola Communication Booster (Tier II)

  Military Grade Communication Booster able to deliver your message where and when it needs to be. Joola Tech is the only way to go when what you need to say needs to be heard!

  Effect: Disregard all communication interference from shields, communication scramblers, Skills, and Spells below Tier of communication booster. Fifty percent chance of breaking through equivalent tier blockages (chance decreases dependent on proximity to emanating blockage)

  Requirements: 1 Hard Point

  “Nice…” I stare at the box, unsure of how to use it.

  “Slot it into Sabre, boy-o,” Ali says.

  I sigh, transforming the mecha. That’s when I run into the next problem. I’m out of slots. After a moment’s hesitation, I extract the Monolam Temporal Cloak, pulling it into my inventory, and slot in the communication booster. There’s a little hum, some movement as Sabre alters itself and the box to ensure that it works. If I’m going to be blaring my position away anyway, there’s no point using the Temporal Cloak.

  A few hasty goodbyes and one much less hasty kiss and I’m on the move, headed to meet up with Johnson and his team. They’ll help me breach the necessary shields, hopefully only requiring me to use the damn communication booster once. It’s not exactly a good feeling painting a target on your back.

  ***

  “Redeemer,” Wier greets me, shaking my hand as I stop outside the impromptu command center set up in the midst of a mall.

  “Colonel,” I say, looking around at the organized chaos. “What’s up?”

  “We’re entrenching,” Wier says, waving to encompass the hurried work. He doesn’t lead me in, which makes me frown, but I don’t say a thing. I’m not running the war and… “We need you to set waypoints through the line if you can.”