The Culling of Man: A litrpg adventure (Peril's Prodigy Book 1)

by Craig Kobayashi

  "Bonus! Too bad that sushi place is probably down for repairs..."

  "Right?! You wanna do some recruiting with me?" Garath asked. "Max party size is five for the little D dungeons. Athios will probably want to come but we’ll want to add some diversity to the group. I'm thinking we will probably want a tank and healer to round out the group."

  "Probs a good idea," the Assassin agreed.

  Tarzan meowed haughtily as the Necrologist got to his feet. "I'm sorry!" he apologized. "I can't just sit there until you're done napping, you sleep like eighteen hours a day."

  The fluffy black cat pinned her ears back and looked away from Garath, mortally offended. He rolled his eyes at her then turned and left the room, following Warrion down the corridor and into the main hall of the building.

  Gary's child-labor construction crew had dragged all of the cushioned furnishings, originally placed throughout the converted school building, into the large, open main hall and it had become somewhat of a hang-out locale for members of The Band. Garath scanned the crowded room trying to locate his old neighbor, Sharon. Sharon was seventy-eight years old and the saltiest, fussiest old lady he had ever met. She was sweet deep down, probably. When Sharon had chosen her Class, a Naturist, just before The Culling, her decrepit body had transformed - erasing the damage that time had done and restored the bitter old bird's body to peak condition. His seventy-eight-year-old neighbor now had the body of a beautiful young lady in the prime of her life - though her personality had not changed in the slightest.

  Garath was speechless at the time, even more so when Mark - a mid-thirties, overweight banker of some type that had lived on the same floor that Garath and Sharon did - witnessed her transformation and also chose the Naturist Class in hopes of a similar transformation, but nothing happened. After The Culling, Garath posted a forum in the World panel to see if anyone else had seen or experienced a transformation like Sharon's. He learned that it had actually happened to anyone whose Vitality would have been below five before choosing a Class. As five was the base Vitality for Level 1 of each Class, those whose Vitality had increased upon choosing a Class also experienced a transformation - so that their body would match up with their Attributes. It all seemed a bit heady for Garath but he supposed it made sense, especially after feeling the increased Strength Attribute first hand. After all, having increased Strength or Dexterity with seventy+ year-old joints and ligaments could definitely spell disaster.

  When he finally located Sharon, Garath was not surprised to find her hanging out with Daisy's Gran next to the fire place. It was a comfortable 73 degrees inside the old brick building but the two of them were cozily lounging a few feet from the blazing fireplace in the center of the main hall. The wooden tops of school desks work fairly well doubling as firewood, as it turns out.

  Garath and Warrion sank into a vacant couch next to the two old ladies. The Necrologist couldn't help noticing that the discussion going on just behind the couch, where a large group of Raid members were standing in a circle, ended abruptly as they sat. He looked curiously over his shoulder and caught the eyes of several people staring at him - then quickly looking away when they made eye contact - and Garath couldn't help feeling like he had been the subject of their conversation. The Raid leader was more than a bit curious but opted to dismiss it and just do what he came to do. Before he could approach the topic of the dungeon, Sharon had a few words for him.

  "I suppose you're here to ask for my help with something," she accused, setting her dinner plate on a side table next to the love seat she had claimed as her own. The plate was spotless. Her appetite, it appeared, had returned with her Vitality. Daisy's Gran - whose real name Garath didn't know because the nameplate affixed to her head only said ‘Gran’ - on the other hand, had not eaten at all. A large hunk of beautiful, fire charred salmon sat untouched next to her daily ration of what the military passed off as bacon and hash browns.

  "Gran," Garath said, "you haven't touched your food again. You need to keep up your strength."

  "Oh, I'm not very hungry but that is very sweet of you to notice, young man," she replied feebly without looking up from the fire.

  "It's been almost a week and I haven't seen you eat at all, it isn't healthy. You're really starting to worry Daisy. Did you know she sent a fireball into the ocean while fishing today because she wasn't getting any bites? She knows you won't eat the rations so she went fishing with Gary and the boys to get you something else," Garath explained, concerned. "Maybe if you just pick your Class you'll feel better. I mean look at Sharon, she's seventy-eight!"

  "And never felt better," Sharon agreed, nodding in the same slow manner she had when her body was old. "But you'll never get anywhere with this one, young man. Believe me, I've been trying to convince her of the same, she won't listen."

  "What's the hold up?" asked Warrion.

  Gran didn't reply, she had already checked out of the conversation and was staring vacant-eyed at the flames.

  Garath made a face. "Okay then," he said, not one to kick a dead horse - or some other adage less offensive when referring to the elderly. "Moving right along. To answer your accusation Sharon, yes and no. I came to invite you to come do a dungeon. You seem to have really adopted your Class and I thought you may want to explore your new capabilities a bit."

  "Use whatever charming words suit you best, swindler. Color me the crazy old hag if you want but I see through your pretty smile," she said, the conflicting self-image and actual-image painfully evident. Back when Sharon had looked her age, Garath would take her weird, somewhat creepy, backhanded compliments in stride but now that she looked like a woman his own age, an attractive woman his own age at that, he didn't know how to respond at all.

  Garath laughed awkwardly and got up to leave. "Thanks, Sharon. We're leaving in the morning, I'll come find you."

  Sharon grunted unattractively as the Assassin and Necrologist left the warmth of the fire. She then picked up Gran's plate and helped herself to the salmon Daisy had worked so hard to bring back. Sharon recognized the look in old Gran's eyes and knew the smell on her breath, she had seen and smelled them before when her good-for-nothing nephew had tried to put her in an assisted living home - Gran was dying, and it wouldn't be long.

  As Garath and Warrion were leaving the uncomfortable heat of the fire, the Necrologist once again saw the group that had been talking behind the couches. They were still chatting, though now in hushed voices. Garath was able to make out one sentence, barely audible amidst the crowded main hall. “I'm just going to go tell him.”

  Garath couldn't tell who had said it, but it didn't really matter - seconds later, a stout and enormously pregnant Hispanic woman that looked to be in her thirties broke free of the circle and was walking in his direction. When she was only a few feet away, the woman stopped and folded her arms over her obtuse stomach. Garath remembered seeing her here and there throughout The Culling, the image of her with her husband - who stood a few inches shorter even than his little wife - and four small children following behind her was like a brood of ducklings enthusiastically following their mother.

  “Garath, do you have a moment?” she asked.

  Garath could see from her nameplate that her name was Almaria. “Sure, Almaria. What's up?”

  “Maybe we can go outside?” she asked, her arms still folded over her stomach.

  For some reason this little, uncomfortably pregnant woman made Garath nervous but he agreed and told Warrion he'd catch up with him before following Almaria - at a surprisingly quick walking pace, considering her short legs and the encumbrance growing in her womb - out the open double-doors of the old school building.

  As they walked in silence, Garath determined a few of the reason(s) this little woman made him nervous. For one, Hispanic women tend to have quite a fiery temper, in his experience at least. On top of that she was very, very pregnant. Though Garath had never really spent time around pregnant women, the widely known fact that they have mood swings and that you
should avoid irritating them at all costs was definitely a factor. Lastly, her body language as she approached and asked for his time told the Necrologist that whatever she wanted to talk to him about had either made her upset or very nervous. He triggered his Inspect Ability and was given the abbreviated table of information, signifying that Almaria was among the Raid members not already on Garath's friend list.

  Almaria

  Race: Human

  Class: Geomancer

  Level: 17

  Age: 33

  Health: 560/560

  Mana: 330/330

  There was also a small icon next to her name that looked to Garath like a pair of legs glued to the ground. He willed more information to appear and read the details as Almaria took a seat on a wooden bench.

  Gestating: Dexterity reduced by 50%; movement speed decreased by 10%;

  *Modifier, third trimester: increased swelling; trouble sleeping; frequent dizziness; frequent urination; pain of varying intensity and frequency in the back, hips, breasts, and indiscriminate other locations.

  ‘Wow,’ Garath thought with sympathy for every woman that had ever had children. Being pregnant was the single worst debuff he had ever heard of.

  He sat next to Almaria on the bench outside HQ with a whole new understanding of what she was going through, but the information provided by the system concerning her symptoms raised a question in his mind. He knew it was off-topic but couldn't help himself.

  “How are you able to walk so fast?” he asked. Her Dexterity was only half what it would be if she weren't pregnant and her movement speed was reduced on top of that, yet as they made their way to the bench outside, he had to pick up his natural pace to keep up with her.

  Almaria looked confused. The stern expression on her face softened slightly, and then she smiled and let her arms fall to her sides. “I used my points on more Dexterity because I was so slow. I hate to be slow.”

  Garath laughed. He guessed it made enough sense that she would try to counter the debuff and work the system into making pregnancy just a little less inhibiting. And it even seemed to be working for her. “You're going to move at light speed after you have your baby,” he observed, nodding at her swollen stomach.

  She smiled even bigger and Garath picked up immediately that Almaria would be easy enough to charm. If he always brought up her belly or children whenever he saw her, she would soon start to relate the feelings of happiness and pride she (obviously) had toward her spawnlings to speaking with him.

  “What did you want to talk to me about?” he asked.

  “That's right,” she said, nodding. Her expression changed again to the stern, no-nonsense Latina that had approached him before and she folded her arms over her stomach again. “Me and my family are glad we found your group, so please do not be sad, but you have to make the Dragon go to live somewhere else.”

  Garath was shocked, he had expected her to ask for help with something or make a complaint about her assigned living quarters or something. It was true that Aldrasyl had been spending the daylight hours soaking in golden sunlight on the roof of the old building. Garath assumed he would have to have this conversation sooner or later but after a few days without comment from anyone about it, the concern became just another thing to address if and when it became an issue. Apparently that was right now.

  “What, Aldrasyl?” he asked dumbly.

  “It lives on the roof? Big, white Dragon? I think it killed you the other day?” she said, looking at him and wondering just how many Dragons this demonic looking man had seen living on the roof.

  “That's Aldrasyl,” he confirmed.

  “Okay,” she said with one eyebrow raised threateningly and waited, tapping one foot rapidly against the pavement.

  Garath didn't know what to say. It's not like he had invited the Ice Drake to take up residence on the roof. “You want me to make him leave,” he said, imagining how that conversation would go with the Ice Drake.

  “Not just me, mijo,” she told him. “Everyone has been talking about that thing. Everyone is scared. I am scared. I am scared for my children and I am scared for myself.”

  “I understand,” he started, pausing to scratch at his growing stubble - and to follow Sharon's favorite piece of advice to give, even though she rarely followed it herself - to think before he speaks. “But I don't know if I can, Almaria.”

  “You have to, or people will start to leave this place.”

  Garath hadn't considered that. He wasn't forcing anyone to stay though, and felt it was each person's prerogative to stay with The Band or move on and make their own way. Still, he wanted everyone who chose to stay to feel like they had a safe place to live. He waited a moment to let her know he took her words seriously and then nodded.

  “I know it may be hard to swallow, but I promise he won't hurt anyone in The Band,” he told her softly, even knowing it wouldn't change the way she felt. “When we fought, and we both died, some things happened that I can't really explain. What I can tell you is that I can communicate with him, that he will probably follow me anywhere I go, and that he won't hurt anyone friendly to me unless he has a damn good reason to.”

  “How can you promise that?” she asked incredulously, shifting uncomfortably on the bench. “Dragons killed more people than anything else that day. What if it gets hungry? What then? Or what if it changes its mind? How can you know?”

  “I don't…” he started to reply, but was cut off.

  “You can't. You can't know for sure.”

  Garath considered her position, and she did have a legitimate concern, he couldn't deny that and wouldn't dare to try even if he could.

  “Almaria, I don't think there's any way I can convince you that he's not a threat to us here. I really do want everyone to feel safe at our new home here but I literally can't force Aldrasyl to do anything. He is much more powerful than any of us. The truth is, if he wanted to kill all of us right now, he could. But don't you think he would have already if that's what he wanted? He doesn't have any reason to hurt us. And just by being there, Aldrasyl actually makes this building safer.”

  Almaria listened quietly to his reply, but wasn't having any of it. Her arms folded, she looked away from the Necrologist and exhaled in frustration.

  “Listen, I have a few more things to take care tonight so I need to get going but I want you to know that it means a lot to me that you trust me enough to bring your concern to my attention. And like you said, there's no way for me to guarantee what I've told you about Aldrasyl - you'd have to take my word for it. More than anything though, I want you to feel safe. If you do decide to leave The Band, just let me know and I'll help escort you to wherever you decide to live to make sure you get there safely, okay?”

  Almaria watched with a ponderous gaze as Garath got to his feet and offered her his outstretched hand. The separation between his off-putting visage and the tenderness of his words perplexed the pregnant woman, but she accepted his help and stood.

  “Thank you,” she said, still mulling over their conversation in her mind. “I will talk to my family now and we can talk again later.”

  Almaria turned to walk back into the building and Garath watched her go until she was out of sight before sending a private message to Warrion. He sat back down on the bench while he waited for the Assassin to make his way there.

  "So, couple things,” Warrion said as he reached earshot of Garath. “One, was Sharon's grunt a yes or should we look for another healer? Two, what was that about?” Warrion made a gesture with both hands over his stomach, poorly imitating a pregnant woman. “And three, is it just me or is Sharon super hot now? Think I could hit that?”

  "Dude!"

  "What? You don't think she's hot?"

  "She looks the same to me. Smells better for sure, but whenever I look at her I just see that bitter old lady who thinks I'm responsible for everything wrong with the world. And in regards to 'hitting that', she probably doesn't even remember how."

  "Whatever, Sharon
loves you. Think she's gonna come?"

  "She'll come," said Garath as Warrion sat next to him on the wooden bench. He opened his MENU panels and scanned his friends list to get a location on Athios. When he located the little green dot on his map, his face screwed up in confusion. "My map shows Athios inside but I didn't see her, did you?"

  "No. But isn't her room one of the upstairs ones?"

  Garath didn't answer. He figured that simply asking Athios where she was would be more effective than speculating the possibilities with Warrion. He sent the Dimensionalist a private message.

  Private Message from Garath to Athios - 00/00/06 @ 19:56:

  Hey, you busy?

  Garath was still not used to the new Global Standard Time system that The Culling had brought with it, even though it actually made more sense to the Necrologist that everyone across the globe would refer to the same moment with the EXACT same number, rather than having the number vary depending on location. That didn't make the three-hour difference between GST and PST disappear though. Eventually humanity would adjust to the change and stop basing their concept of what 'time' it was on the position of the sun. For now though, what would be 10:26PM PST, with the sun completely out of view beyond the western horizon and only the pale moonlight to illuminate the landscape, just didn't feel right with the corresponding numerical value given by the GST system. He didn't think about it too long, as he received a somewhat alarming reply message almost immediately.

  Private Message from Athios to Garath - 00/00/06 @ 19:56:

  Don't freak out, okay?