Berserker: A LitRPG Urban Fantasy Adventure (Apocosmos Book 1)

by Dimitrios Gkirgkiris

  On my way out of the gym, I crossed paths with two jocks wearing varsity jackets. Varsity fucking jackets while the temperature was already in the low nineties. They were high-fiving each other as they entered the gym and I swiftly turned up the volume on my headphones to avoid listening to what was without a doubt a philosophical conversation of the highest importance.

  “Loser” by Elvenking. The perfect song to match the situation.

  I heard Louie rushing to the door as I turned the key in our apartment’s door. I was happy to see that these small things didn’t change, despite him having an intelligence stat higher than mine. He was still my pup. He still accepted me with all my faults and shortcomings. Still loved me unconditionally and was happy to see me return.

  “What’s up, buddy?” I said as I fell to my knees and rubbed him all over his fluffy body. “Did you sleep well?”

  “I wouldn’t mind sleeping more,” he replied and yawned loudly, “but it’s fine, ’cause you’re here.”

  “I need to take a shower. Do you want to have one too?”

  “Nooooo,” he howled and launched himself away, desperately trying to hide behind the couch. “I had one recently. Not again.”

  “You had one a month ago,” I said, not being able to hold myself back from laughing. “Okay, we’re not having one today, but soon.”

  With him pinned behind the couch for a few moments, I connected my phone to the wireless speaker and put on the music loud enough to mask the noise of the fridge opening. I swiftly retrieved the hidden stash of bacon I was keeping in there and took out a couple of thick slices. I hastily put the rest back on the refrigerator’s top shelf, hiding them from his view, and closed its door just in time for him not to see it as he dashed in the kitchen.

  “I smell bacon. You got bacon? Where is it?”

  “I do indeed have bacon,” I announced loudly. “The king of all foods.”

  “The god of all foods,” Louie countered. “If bacon was a weapon, it would be a dark matter bomb. That’s how great bacon is.”

  “If bacon was a villain, it would be Thanos,” I retorted, continuing our usual little game. “That’s how great bacon is.”

  “If bacon was a villain, it would be Kefka. That’s how great bacon is.”

  “I yield, wise dog,” I said and handed him the slices.

  Before I was even able to let go, he’d bitten into them and run off to his usual dining spot by the door. Pleased that he hadn’t spotted the rest of my secret bacon stash, I took the speaker with me and headed to the land of cleanliness by the power of my showerhead.

  Having cleansed myself, I glanced at the time and realized I had very few minutes before my call with Rory. I wrapped my lower half in a towel and hastily rubbed my hair with another. Since my hospitalization, I’d gotten used to having the sides of my head shaven, and I kind of liked it, so I continued doing it. It also meant my long hair was less of a hassle after bathing.

  When I reached the kitchen counter, I heard the ringtone from the DEM tablet so I set it upright and answered the dwarf’s call.

  “Ho-ho, ye’re built, half-Celt,” was the first thing the dwarf said, this being the first he’d seen me without a shirt. “But yer skin is smooth as alabaster. Ye’re young and fortunate.”

  And just like that, my mood shifted. Young? Sure. But not fortunate.

  “What did you want to talk about, Rory?” I said, my tone reflecting what I thought of his previous remark.

  “Lighten up, lad,” he replied, oblivious to what caused my mood to change, “or ye’ll lose all that long hair of yers. We’re getting richer by the day.”

  “I know. Which makes me wonder why you wanted to talk to me about production so urgently,” I said, and I saw him reach over to a table next to him to pick up his long pipe, revealing the robes he was wearing. “And why are you wearing robes?”

  “These aren’t just any robes!” he exclaimed. “They’re top-quality C-grade spellcaster robes. Here, I’ll send ye a link and ye’ll understand why I’m wearing them.”

  “Why would a link help me understand—” I said and suddenly two links appeared in the middle of the screen. I tapped on them and two smaller windows appeared with the images of the top and bottom halves of the robes he was wearing, along with their stats.

  Name: Craftomancer Tunic

  Type: Upper Armor (Robe)

  Rarity: C Grade

  Physical Defense: 74

  MP Increment: 314

  Durability : 2032/2150

  Weight: 1980st.

  Description : A tunic made of mana-infused silk. The superior quality of this tunic renders it a great option for all spellcasters, but its great boost in MP and mana regeneration makes it a crafter’s favorite sleeping and crafting attire. The tunic’s softness has beneficial qualities to the wearer’s face.

  Name: Craftomancer Stockings

  Type: Lower Armor (Robe)

  Rarity: C Grade

  Physical Defense: 46

  MP Increment: 196

  Durability : 1597/1770

  Weight: 960st.

  Description : A pair of stockings made of mana-infused silk. The superior quality of these stockings render them a great option for all spellcasters but their great boost in MP and mana regeneration makes them a crafter’s favorite sleeping and crafting attire. Additionally, they are incredibly comfortable.

  “Is it because they’re good for your face?” I asked, trying my best to stop myself from making fun of him. “It’s too late for you to get married, old man.”

  This time, it was his face that darkened, and even though this had somewhat been my intention, I found that I took no pleasure in it.

  “I am married and I’m sleeping in these robes to take advantage of the Mana Regeneration Rate and the extra MP when I wake up and start crafting,” he said. He took a deep puff of his pipe, momentarily hiding himself from view after he exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. “I wanted to talk to ye about our capacity.”

  “What about it?” I asked, slightly confused by the sudden change of subject, but eager to get on with it nonetheless. “Didn’t you say you’ve hit your limit?”

  “I did. I’m crafting as soon as me mana replenishes and I’m taking a lot of rests so me mana regeneration is faster. I haven’t slept for more than four hours straight since we ramped up production so that I wouldn’t have to leave me MP pool full and unused.”

  “And we haven’t sold out on any of the busy days in the past two weeks.”

  “We haven’t sold out and we should keep it that way. We need to stay on top of the rising demand, but every week more people buy our arrows, Alex. Tomorrow is Monday and even if we still have arrows left by the end of the day, I don’t think we’ll have enough to cover Tuesday.”

  “We’re not hiring another crafter,” I said. “This is to stay between us two.”

  “I’m not saying we should,” he agreed and took another deep sip from his magical pipe. “But I do think we should invest some money in mana rechargers.”

  “Mana rechargers? You mean like mana potions? I thought they didn’t exist.”

  “Of course they don’t. However, some classes can channel their mana into other people. Of course, there are losses in the transfer but the higher the level of the person channeling, the closer they can get to perfect mana conversion.”

  “What kind of classes can do it?” Louie asked from behind me.

  “There are certain classes that specialize in enhancing the abilities of other spellcasters,” Rory replied, by now completely used to Louie suddenly jumping into the conversation whenever he had questions. “Some summoners also have servitors that can recharge mana, but those classes are pretty rare in these parts.”

  “Summoner classes?” Louie exclaimed, apparently much more interested in the diversity of the Apocosmos than I’d ever let myself be. “Can they summon the dead?”

  I was caught completely off-guard. I knew the reason he’d asked. There was
only one dead person Louie might want to talk to and I dreaded the answer Rory would give. The dwarf was equally taken aback by the question and his face hardened yet again.

  “The dead are beyond reach for us mortals,” he replied somberly, “and for good reason. The realms of the dead and the realms of the living are separated by powers far greater than ye and I.”

  “I see,” Louie replied, disappointed.

  “It doesn’t really matter what summoners can bring forth, as long as they can recharge me mana,” Rory continued.

  “You know I don’t want anyone else involved in this,” I said, still thinking about Louie’s question. I was skeptical about bringing in another person.

  “We don’t need to involve them. Ye think ye’re the only one wanting to keep yer business to yerself? We’ll find one that we can trust and agree on how to make it happen so that they never connect me to yer listings.”

  What he was saying made perfect sense business-wise. I had always been a numbers person and I had come to the same conclusions about our ability to keep churning out orders. There was little to no chance we’d be able to keep with demand this week. We wouldn’t be losing any money, but we’d be letting money fly away instead of catching it in our greedy little retirement cage. The difference is that I hadn’t known there was a solution.

  I could feel the Apocosmos, or rather the sweet taste of fast money, pulling me in more and more and I was no fool. Just because I was investing more in this business, I hadn’t forgotten that I initially didn’t want to have anything to do with it and pulling someone else in felt very much like having more to do with it. But then, my goal had not changed. Once I reached my target, I’d retire. And this looked like a faster way to get there.

  “Okay,” I said finally. “But we need to find either someone who we can trust or someone who’d never be able to make the connection. Do you have anyone in mind?”

  “There are a few people I’ve worked with before but lemme get me ass there first, half-Celt. We’ll go through them together and come up with a plan on how to do it securely. Ye still got that nice cold coffee of yours?”

  “I do,” I said and couldn’t help but let a smile escape my cold demeanor. “I’ll also ask a friend of mine in case he knows someone in their clan.”

  “Can ye trust him? What clan are ye talking about?”

  “I do trust him. He gave me my DEM tablet,” I said casually. “I doubt you’d know him though. His name is Leonardo DiFiore.”

  “The Romans?”

  “They’re Italians, yes. Do you know them?”

  “Of course I know them, lad,” the dwarf replied. “Strong clan and ancient bloodline. Different gods them and me cla… them and me. But fierce warriors all of them.”

  “So you’re okay with them, I guess?” I asked, more out of politeness than really waiting for his approval.

  “Sure. Might prefer them to me own too. Anyway, gonna start now. Beat the traffic, ye know.”

  “See you later, old man.”

  “Piss off, ye mongrel.”

  I put down the tablet and looked at Louie. “What do you think?”

  “Why do you keep calling him old man?” He asked his own question instead of answering mine as usual. “Do you know how long dwarfs live?”

  “Well, he keeps calling me half-Celt.”

  “That’s not an insult, Alex!”

  “I know, I know. It just feels right, you know. Insulting him without really meaning it.”

  “Bonding, you mean?” Louie asked and his tail wagged his slightly.

  “What?” I said, surprised by his comment. “No way. We’re business partners. And once we get to our goal, we’re each going our own way.”

  “What about Leo?” he asked.

  “You’re right. I’ll call him now.”

  “No. I mean what about him once you hit your goal?”

  “It’s not just my goal, buddy,” I said and fell on one knee, trying to understand where this was coming from. “It’s so that we can spend more time together. Without having to work, relaxing in a place where it’s always sunny.”

  “I know what the weather in Greece is like, Alex,” he replied and barked. “But you’re not answering the question. What about Leo?”

  “What about him?” I said and stood up, not wanting to admit that I hadn’t thought about it. “He’ll be able to visit us.”

  “I hope he will,” Louie said and retreated to the living room, leaving me alone in the kitchen.

  What was this all of a sudden? Why can’t he see I’m doing this for us? For him? We won’t need anyone else for the rest of our lives. No more leaving him in the house alone. No more long boring meetings. Just a lifetime of gaming, music, and working out. The two of us.

  I took my phone out of my pocket and called Leo. It was still quite early in the morning, but he was always an early riser.

  “Well, well, well…” Leo’s voice echoed from my phone’s speaker. “Alexander MacFie calling me twice in one year. That must be a record of some sort.”

  “Good morning, man. I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

  “Nah, I was up already. Why am I not seeing anything?”

  “Man, you and your stupid video calls,” I sighed but turned on my camera all the same.

  “Wow, wow, put on some clothes, Mr. Greek god.”

  “Sorry, I was working out and—”

  “Clearly,” he interrupted me. “What’s up, man?”

  “Well, I was wondering if anyone in your family is able to recharge mana.”

  “Recharge mana? I swear, man. Every time, it’s something weirder from you. Why do you need someone able to recharge mana?”

  Normally I had low tolerance for people answering my questions with questions. But this was Leo and I was actually asking him for a favor so I went along with it.

  “I’ve been working with a crafter lately,” I confessed. I had always danced around it in our previous conversations over that last month. “and we might need someone to juice him up in order to craft faster.”

  “Look at you, big-shot trader! Can’t keep up with production and want to scale with mana recharging. What’s next? An army of crafters? Dominating national markets?”

  “Come on, man. Do you know anyone that can help?”

  “Not really, no. I’m not exactly the pride of the clan, you know.”

  “Oh, wow. I didn’t know it was like that, man. I’m sorry to hear that. Just know… I’m cool with it. With you, I mean.”

  “Do you really think…?” Leo started laughing. “I don’t mean about me being gay, man. Homophobia is an ancient thing in the Apocosmos. I meant about me being a spellcaster. For thousands of years, the DiFiores have been one of the strongest warrior clans in what is now known as Firenze. Hundreds of championships won in Calcio Storico. Spellcasters are a very rare thing in our clan.”

  “But I thought classes manifested according to your skills and disposition.”

  “Your life choices also play a big role, but that’s beside the point,” he explained. “Nobody treats me differently because I am a mystic. At least, not since I got my class. But still, I’m not a fighter. It is difficult to be different.”

  “From my point of view, that makes you all the more special.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence. It’s not as bad as it used to be honestly. I used to try and fit into the traditional roles of my family and always felt bad that I had this affinity with magic. I feel much more comfortable in my skin now that I’ve accepted who I am.”

  “I haven’t met a lot of your cousins or aunts and uncles, but your family seems cool. Are they okay with it?”

  “My mother is very supportive and so’s my older sister. You haven’t met Stella, have you?”

  “I haven’t, but you’ve talked highly of her.”

  “Well, they’re both very understanding and they’re both strong warriors too so that counts for a lot. My father, however, wasn’t always as good about it. When I was youn
ger, I was even less athletic. Can you believe that?”

  Hearing him finally open up to me, I didn’t want to make fun of him. It just didn’t seem right. But just before he was about to continue speaking, it dawned on me.

  “You mean your legs were made of cooked spaghetti?” I said mockingly. He needed his friend who always treated him the same, and not pity about his past.

  “Close enough,” he replied and his smile broadened. “My father was always pushing me to be more active. Running laps, push-ups, pull-ups. I can barely do a pull-up now!”

  “Oh man, that must have sucked. I used to hate physical activity when I was a child. Especially after Super Nintendo came out.”

  “I know right? But my father saw the time my starting class would manifest drawing closer and he tried so hard to make sure I got a fighter class. Anyway, as you’d expect, I used to get injured often so I spent a lot of time horizontal. Which is why I started reading a lot. At first fantasy and sci-fi. You know, to escape. But then I started picking up beginner magic books and as you expect—”

  “You got the mystic class.”

  “Exactly. And let me tell you, father was not happy about it. He never said it outright but I could see the disappointment in his eyes every day. Especially when the Calcio Storico matches were upon us.”

  “You mentioned that before,” I interrupted him. “What is it? Some kind of Apocosmos sport?”

  “It’s the most brutal sport you’ve ever seen and it’s played exclusively by warrior classes. I wish I could send you a video or something but the matches are never recorded. It is a great honor to be invited to a match and an even greater one to play in it.”

  “So is it like Football?”

  “Kind of. You can google it actually. Some of the Cosmos citizens of Firenze play it every year. It somehow seeped into that world around the 16th century. Anyway, father still isn’t very happy about my class, though at least he seems to be taking it easier on my little sister than he did on me.”

  “What do you mean? Marina’s a mystic too?”

  “Something similar to it, yes. But I think she’ll take the summoner’s path once she upgrades her class. She is the closest you’d get to mana recharging from the DiFiore clan, but she’s still too low level to help you.”