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

by Tao Wong

  “You’re getting your ass kicked, boy-o,” Ali says, chortling.

  “No shit. I barely have time to use my Skills.”

  Through Ali’s viewpoint outside the ring, I can see Ayuri casually dodging my last Blade Strike before smirking at the Mud Walls. She raises a hand, forming a glowing ball of power in it—a charged Skill, it seems. I’m vaguely curious if it’s a Master or Basic Class attack, but mostly, I’m focusing on the flow of Mana as seen by Ali. It’s not as effective as viewing it directly, but it’s good enough.

  When she releases the attack, I Blink Step, appearing behind Ayuri. Immediately, I cast Army of One, hammering her with everything I have. The blades send slashes of power into her back, blood erupting from her body as the attack tears through her Shield and defenses. The champion immediately twists and dodges some of the attacks. My Master Class Skill makes a difference here, making her numerous defensive Skills useless. Ayuri is sent spinning into the Mud Walls, her health plummeting as each attack shaves off a visible chunk. By the time the attack is over, the champion has lost half of her health and I’ve lost the element of surprise.

  “That hurt,” Ayuri says, her bloody smile widening. “Now I’m really going to kick your ass.”

  ***

  My head slams hard against the floor and I slide backward, slamming into the sparring ring’s force fields. The first two have dissipated from the concussive force of Ayuri’s last attack. The third shatters as I’m forced into it, piles of rubble building up around my sliding body and being turned to dust under the force. The last and strongest field holds though, leaving me bloody and shattered. The room is dyed red, a warning klaxon shattering the air as it marks the end of our sparring match.

  For a moment, I focus and cast a Major Healing on myself, pushing through the pain. The spell is insufficient for the sheer amount of damage done to me, but it fixes the major problems, stemming blood loss from ruptured organs and open wounds. The force field drops, and more healing magic descends on my prone form.

  “What… Skill?” I send the thought to Ali, barely coherent even as my body patches together.

  Rather than answer me directly, Ali flashes me the Skill information as a reminder from the Champion Class information we purchased.

  The Will of the People (Erethran Champion Class Skill)

  Drawing upon the trust and respect earned by a champion, the user unleashes a single devastating attack to remove all threats to the Empire.

  Effect: Attack form and damage done dependent upon user and the amount of Reputation the champion has developed in Erethra. Each 10 points of Erethran reputation deals an additional point of damage.

  Cost: 1000 Mana

  I snort slightly and regret it immediately, the motion making my chest ache as broken ribs grate upon one another. A single attack my ass. Ayuri formed a million and one separate, spinning decahedrons of blades with the Skill, each of which honed in on me when fired. And a hundred reputation points seems like nothing until you realize the damn Erethran Empire is a multi-system, multi-planet juggernaut. Even a mild level of fame for a champion makes this attack ridiculous. If Ayuri hadn’t purposely held back the vast majority of her attack, I’d be dead, even with my damage reduction and Spell resistances. As it stood, the final attack had actually increased my Mana by an appreciable amount.

  As the spells rumble through me, I have a sudden urge to cough. Twisting over my side, I hack and cough, pain ripping through my body at each motion, but eventually, the misplaced, shattered bones and mashed tissue comes out. I stare at the bloody mess, my nose wrinkling as my sense of smell comes back, bringing with it the harsh scent of melted concrete and roasted flesh. A Cleanse fixes some of dirt and smell even as a last spell lands on me, leaving the longer-term healing pulses and my own regeneration to finish the job.

  “Damn. You just keep ticking, don’t you?” Ayuri says as she strides up to my prone form. “Were you trying to get me to use my ultimate Skill?”

  “Pretty much.” I peel myself off the floor, stare at the tattered remnants of my clothing, and chuckle suddenly.

  “What?”

  “Just a funny cultural realization.” With a shrug, I tear off the remainder of the armored jumpsuit as it is doing nothing for my modesty and get dressed in something new. None of the Erethrans even blink. Then again, considering how uncovered I was before, they had more than enough time to get over their shock.

  “What did you learn?” Unilo asks, her head cocked to the side as she watches me. After a moment, she brightens. “Oh! You are speaking about your embarrassment of being nude! We are too.”

  “You are?” I look at the shreds of my clothing as I pull on my new jumpsuit.

  “Yes. But only among those of the same species.” Unilo makes a face. “Who’d care about what other species wear? It’s not as if you’re biologically compatible.”

  “Unless you’re Truinnar or Movana or Dwarven or boy-o—”

  “Not. Now.”

  “Right,” I say out loud.

  Unilo continues, oblivious. “It’d be like watching a cruppa and being—”

  “Cruppa?”

  “Domestic animal.” An image flashes up in front of me, a six-limbed, furred on the top and scaled on the bottom creature who is about knee height with a barbed tail. “Erethran equivalent of a dog.”

  I flush slightly, glaring at Unilo, who continues to blather on without noticing the look I shoot her.

  “Embarrassed. Or worse, aroused. We actually don’t condone that kind of perversion on Erethra, though I know on some of the other planets… well, it’s a bit more uncivilized.”

  “Unilo.” Ayuri’s single word cuts off Unilo’s ramblings.

  Ayuri gestures for the exit, and as I’m now presentable, I’m happy to comply. We stay silent as we push past the crowd, my head cocked to the side as I read lips and listen to the whispered Erethran-filled conversations all around me.

  “You sure he’s a Paladin? I hear they’re even worse than champions—”

  “Never saw anyone take more than a twentieth of the Will before. His damage reduction must be insane!”

  “Well, he did have two-thirds of his health. His regeneration rates were ridiculous. And he kept on buying time with the Soul Shield.”

  “You think the d’Quam are going to let him live?”

  “He got her down a quarter health. Shit, I think I’m going to have to buy his profile from the Shop.”

  “Krell’s nipples the Shop. I got a broker for that. Get you a real deal—”

  Ayuri stays silent until we enter a new building and enter what I presume to be her office. It amuses me how, even with a mostly paperless society, Ayuri has managed to clutter her office with junk. I see knickknacks everywhere, from snow globes, lava lamps, a bagpipe, and numerous magnets to other, less identifiable Galactic souvenirs. And trophies. Lots of monster part trophies. As Ayuri slumps in her chair and puts her feet up on the table, I gingerly move aside the half-shattered skull of a particularly large Goblin.

  “Hob,” Ayuri says, as if it’s an explanation. “I was trying to make a cup out of his head and well…”

  “Cup?”

  “Well, you humans have this interesting saying—”

  “Hyperbole. It’s hyperbole!” I say, waving.

  “Oh. Huh. That’d explain it,” Ayuri says. “Well. You passed. Barely.”

  I nod slightly, my eyes narrowing. She didn’t need to drag me all the way here to tell me all this. In fact, she didn’t even need to bring me to this town. Any relatively empty zone would have done just as well. Except, of course, her objective had never been to test my combat ability.

  “We’re done. You should go eat. Unilo, get him some chow,” Ayuri says and gestures for me to get up.

  I blink, staring at Ayuri then back at Unilo. Oh. Right. “Grub?"

  “No, we do not eat insects, but we could find some for you,” Unilo says as she leads me out of the office toward what I assume to be the officers’ me
ss.

  It takes the rest of the walk to explain the misunderstanding. It takes another few minutes for me to find something to eat, and I’m not surprised when Unilo joins me. Or when Mayaya, who has been quietly shadowing us, drives away the few other patrons.

  “The settlement vote,” I say after we have both dug into our food for a bit.

  “It’s yours,” Unilo says, then cuts me off when I open my mouth to thank her. “On one condition.”

  “Of course there’s a condition,” I say grumpily.

  Ali, who’s hovering above Mayaya invisibly, rolls his eyes at me.

  “It’s a simple one. Just a minor favor,” Unilo says.

  “A favor.”

  “A minor favor.”

  “Some help here?” I ask Ali.

  “Erethran nobles trade favors. Trivial, minor, major, blood, life, and family in order of importance. A minor favor is generally considered an action which does not significantly inconvenience or danger you. A single vote, an appropriately Leveled dungeon run.”

  Unilo waits for me to answer, digging into the noodle-like substance before her with a weird utensil that adheres to the noodles with the barest touch. I bury my face in my food, barely tasting it even as my newly healed body craves the calories, while my thoughts spin. So. I’m paraded around, my Skills and Class shown off to a group of Erethran soldiers. Obviously the information about who and what I am is now public knowledge for the kingdom. And now, I’m being not so subtly forced to take a deal.

  The problem with traps is that even if you recognize them, sometimes you have no choice but to spring them. Sometimes, the best way of dealing with a trap is to bull your way through it. And a trap that is known can sometimes be an opportunity.

  “A minor favor. Only after a successful vote,” I say, laying down my own conditions.

  “Sounds like an open-ended deal on your part,” Unilo says.

  “Not entirely true. You’ll lose this settlement at some point, and I’ll lose my vote.”

  Unilo’s lips twitch upward as she cocks her head. “Ah, couldn’t slip the time limit past you, could I? Well, okay. Deal then.”

  I wait, and wait, and eventually frown.

  “The food not to your liking?” Unilo asks as she finishes her dinner.

  “There’s no System notification,” I say, frowning.

  “For our deal? It’s not System-registered, no.”

  “What’s to stop me from welching?”

  Unilo’s eyes glaze over for a moment before she flashes me a smile. “Welching. What a nice word. And if I cannot trust a Paladin to keep his word, well, the Empire is in grave danger.”

  For a moment, I sit there, somewhat disoriented by the statement. Is she assuming my Class forbids me from breaking deals? Or is there something in my Class that stops me from welching? Are there Classes like that? Or is this a cultural artifact? A belief that anyone who is a Paladin can’t break a deal? Or a deeper understanding of me?

  I shush the inquisitive, almost panicky thoughts while another corner of my mind points out that I might need some rest. Getting beaten to a pulp can’t be healthy, no matter how many resistances I have.

  “Fair enough,” I say with a sigh then look at Mayaya. “Mind giving me a ride home?”

  Mayaya doesn’t answer directly, but the next thing I know, I’m falling through a Portal that opens up right beneath my feet, taking me and my chair with it.

  Right. Don’t ask him for a favor again.

  Chapter 10

  After I recover from being so ignobly deposited back in Vancouver—and return the chair, hopefully directly on Mayaya—I spend the next few hours sleeping. Between the constant rush of the past couple of days, I’ve barely had time to catch my breath and it has been over twenty-four hours since I had time to rest. While my higher Constitution allows me to function quite, quite well with no sleep for days on end in normal conditions, normal is not what I’d call my last day. And so, by the time I get up, it’s nearly three in the afternoon.

  Over the next few days, I spend my time studying. First, there’s the delayed meeting with Ali and Kim to receive their findings and research. While it’s significantly more detailed than what Roxley provided, the gist of it is familiar. It does, however, provide a few settlements we could target for objectionable actions if I’m so inclined. Sadly, just taking over the City Cores is insufficient. I need people to guard the core and make the settlement actually work. As experience has shown, leaving a City Core unguarded has a bad tendency to create city-wide System-created dungeons if given enough time.

  Afterwards, I’ve got Lana and Katherine in large chunks, bothering me with questions and details about the settlement. I suffer through those discussions as best as I can, mostly because they at least provide me some context to the world. We tackle numerous issues, ranging from zoning and building applications to judicial rulings, all of which require more than knee-jerk decisions. It’s frightening how much power I have as a settlement owner, a minor feudal lord who rules by right of might. And so, I spend my time studying and learning, doing my best while I wait.

  Because the next big step is talking with the champions, but due to their busy schedules, I’ve been forced to cool my heels for a few days till their “regular” meeting.

  Their meeting time finally arrives, and I find myself porting with Mikito to Hong Kong, appearing on top of the Bank of China tower to survey the city. A quick glance at the notifications informs me the settlement has managed to develop into a full City, a remarkable achievement in the short timeframe. Especially considering only seven percent of their population survived. High population density and a high Mana density combined to create an explosive growth of monsters that trimmed their numbers in the first year. Even from my view, I can see the gaps where entire neighborhoods were razed, their buildings shattered by titanic monstrosities and the battles to subdue them.

  “Welcome, Mr. Lee,” a voice calls to me in Cantonese, and I turn to meet the gaze of a tiny old man.

  Grandmaster Chang Jing Yi, the Iron Gate of Hong Kong, Seventh Dragon of South China (Kung Fu Master Level 2)

  HP: 4310/4310

  MP: 1080/1080

  Conditions: Iron Shirt, Iron Bones, Heaven-and-Earth connection

  “Tai Tsifu Chang,” I greet the man in Cantonese while bowing slightly. “If you don’t mind, I don’t believe Mikito understands Cantonese?”

  “Baka. Of course I do. I visit here often enough,” Mikito says, speaking up before Grandmaster Chang can say anything. “But you didn’t need to meet us yourself.”

  “I wanted to meet the famous Redeemer of the Dead,” Grandmaster Chang says. “His recent exploits have been quite eye-catching.”

  While Mikito and the Grandmaster speak, I bug Ali for an explanation. Especially for the place-specific titles.

  “They’re reputation- and achievement-based titles. Available only if you manage to gain both the achievements and the reputation. Similar to Capstan’s First Fist. As for his Heaven-and-Earth connection, it’s a flowery translation for a unique awareness Skill.”

  “You do me too much honor,” I say to Grandmaster Chang in response to his earlier comment. Huh. I wonder if that’s the right word—would face be better? Mien is more commonly used. But it’s not exactly the same. This is why I hate talking to old school or China Chinese. Being a damn banana, I’m always second-guessing myself. At least my higher Intelligence seems to have increased my versatility with the language. “My achievements are small compared to yours. I didn’t kill a water dragon with my bare hands in the early years.”

  “It was a small one and I had help. A lot of it,” Grandmaster Chang says with a smile and gestures for us to follow him toward the fire exit.

  “Still, I’d love to hear about it,” I say.

  With a little more prompting, I manage to extract the story of the Grandmaster’s fight with the water dragon that had preyed on Hong Kong during the early part of the apocalypse. It’s quite a thrilling ta
le, and one that keeps me riveted until we reach the meeting room. At the door, the Grandmaster leaves us with a bow.

  “How come he’s not part of the group? He’s got the Levels,” I say, gesturing to the Master Class Grandmaster’s retreating back.

  “Not everyone who has the Levels is accepted. Or desires to tramp around the globe,” Jessica says as she fades into being right next to us.

  Mikito starts slightly, a hand flexing as she begins and dismisses calling her weapon. As for myself, I smile at Jessica. It’s not as if my new Class Skill hadn’t helped me pick her out of the shadows a while ago.

  “I thought you were a grouping of the most powerful on Earth?” I say with a frown.

  “Not exactly,” Mikito says. “We’re the ones willing to join and have been accepted. A lot of settlement owners and others who might have the strength—like Grandmaster Chang—aren’t interested. Or available. Not all settlement owners are as hands-off as you are.”

  “Ah. So you’re what? The spearhead? Or the figurehead?” I say.

  Jessica laughs at my description, pearly white teeth flashing across dark skin before fading. “Yes. Come on, we’re the last.”

  She pushes the two of us in, a hand on each of our backs. I follow the urgings of the Southern girl, glancing around to see that she is correct—everyone I know is here. And two others I’ve yet to meet.

  “Bipasha, Graham, John Lee,” Jessica introduces the two newcomers for me while Mikito stays silent, eyeing the room. “Bipasha’s a Weaver and focuses on healing and restricting attacks during combat. She’s also the driving force behind BP Fabrics, one of the largest-growing clothing corporations on Earth.”

  “If you ever want a custom-designed costume, do let me know,” Bipasha says, flashing me a smile.

  Her long black hair, a slightly prominent nose on top of a large, inviting smile, and gorgeous brown eyes have me stopping for a second, reminding me that it’s been years since… well. Since. That she’s dressed in a stylish pink-and-cream Indian-inspired variation of the armored jumpsuit is a good reminder that not everything has to look the same. I’m suddenly not surprised that she’s managed to garner such a following—a successful businesswoman intelligent enough to use her non-Combat Class Skills to undertake missions at this Level and with enough Charisma to bowl over a blind man.