Earthdom: A Post-Apocalyptic LitRPG (Ether Collapse Book 3)

by Ryan DeBruyn

  EARTHDOM

  Book Three of the ETHER COLLAPSE Series

  Written by Ryan DeBruyn

  © 2020 Ryan DeBruyn. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by US copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Newsletter

  Recap

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  About Ryan DeBruyn

  About Mountaindale Press

  Mountaindale Press Titles

  GameLit and LitRPG

  Appendix

  Acknowledgments

  Being a part of the LitRPG community now for three years has been a life changing experience. The first book was something I had always needed to write, something that I had dreamed of doing since childhood. The second was to prove I could make it into a career.

  Now with the third in your hands, I have realized that I write these books for you, the fans. Wherever you currently are, wherever you curl up to read or listen to this installment, I thank you. I write for you, and I hope we have a long future of great stories together.

  Thank you again, and I hope you are safe and healthy during this troubled time in history.

  Newsletter

  Don’t miss out on future releases! Sign up for the Mountaindale Press newsletter to stay up to date. And as always, thank you for your support! You are the reason we’re able to bring these stories to life.

  Recap

  Oh, welcome back! I’ve been waiting on you. Let me catch you up on what’s been happening—I might need your help getting through this.

  My name is Rockland Barkclay. Yeah, I know—the short form, Rocky, reminds you of the boxer. Or the flying squirrel. Look, we can talk about that, or we can talk about my Territory. Your choice.

  Yeah, I thought so.

  After the planet came to life, I was desperate to find my family. Nadine, Lacy and Benoit weren’t with me when this started, and I was doing everything I could to find them. My team and I crisscrossed most of Ontario, surviving all of the chaos that the Planetary God threw at us. We even collected and transported nearly five thousand people back home from Ottawa. I’m going to gloss over the hundreds of thousands that died. Trying to stay upbeat and positive because I didn’t find my family. And they are still out there!

  Once we arrived in Algonquin Valley, Selaphelia Ardensai—my Ancestral Guide and a billion year old hottie—brought the thousands of people to the Grotto, which is a valley surrounded by three cliffs and a river. On first glance, the Grotto was woefully unprepared for the influx. Of course, at the time, I thought the biggest difficulty would be finding housing, food, and growing the Grotto’s infrastructure. You know, economic basics.

  I quickly discovered I was looking through horse blinders, because that part turned out to be easy. With some help from the system.

  That’s when the fan got painted brown. We learned that a Void God had taken over a Dungeon at the site of the nuclear meltdown in Chalk River. Ether Storms were ravaging our Territory border and the surrounding lands. And a particularly ugly Necromonger—I’m talking papery skin, greasy hair, and a penchant to keep undead as pets—named Apothis wanted us all dead as part of his master’s quest for world domination. In other words, the dungeon adventurer life I planned was on hold.

  If you’re a little squeamish, you might have blanked about the whole undead, necromancer, and dreadful abomination portion of our escapades. Trust me, even recalling it causes me to shudder. You ever try going sword-to-spell against a Master Class Necromonger? Probably avoid that experience—I don’t recommend it. At all.

  With a lot of luck—not the system stat, but honest to goodness situational luck—some help from powerful allies, and a rescued dragon, we survived Apothis’ first assault. The undead lover had somehow found a place of power below our Grotto that we didn’t know about. We had a six-hour window to wrest control from Apothis—and rushed headlong into the tunnels below the Grotto. I learned a hard lesson that day when my fast friend, Joe, was slain while saving my life.

  In the end, I sacrificed some Dragonscale and a Heartstring to the Altar of Michabo and ported that pontificating Necromonger back to his Dungeon. Yeah, it turns out he was the final boss in the Dungeon, and that in a week, his cooldowns would reset. I pictured him at full power and besieging the Grotto! We couldn’t let Apothis remain—I mean, would you be able to sleep with a horde of undead controlled by a megalomaniac for neighbors?

  I couldn’t.

  Smith the Medicine Man, Amber the Fencer, Zippo the Fire Mage, Sela the Druid, and I ventured into the depths of the Apep Dungeon and destroyed it. I’ll spare you the specifics of the grueling fight and horrific scenes we saw below. We essentially sacrificed our lives in the final chamber.

  So, yeah, we're dead. I’m speaking to you from the great beyond. Okay, I’m being dramatic, but I am speaking to you from the Spirit Realm. The Territories' place of power was far more powerful than any of us could have guessed. Michabo—a weird bunny hybrid Native American dude—was able to pull our Spirits here and save our living bodies.

  I made a deal with Michabo to transfer all of my stored Etherience. In return, Michabo promised the Rebirth of as many members as he could manage. Fingers crossed that the other members of my group felt just as philanthropic—then we will all be able to return.

  I think that covers everything.

  Rottweiler, I spoke too soon.

  The Apocalypse is at it again. Gaia is just throwing one curveball after another. I'm not asking for much—maybe just a fastball, something straightforward so I can have a second to breathe. I've already broken almost every bone in my body. Twice.

  Do you think I am being unreasonable?

  Probably. Look, I've gotta go deal with this before people start dying. You coming or what?

  Prologue

  Etherless Void—Guild Collective Armada

  Dahrix sat in his captain’s seat. He was jacked into most of the Battleship's system and led the entirety of the Guild Collective assault fleet. Far too busy to listen to Hectar blathering on and on. He ran a hand over his metal
face, blinked and then slowly tuned back in. Would this maggot ever shut up? He would task whichever Mechanoid had let him onto the ship with degreasing the tune up bay.

  “Dahrix, this is only the ninth planet. We must send another team to run diagnostics! Just because the others were desiccated wastelands doesn’t mean this one will be. We don’t have enough data to ensure they are all dead!” Hectar screamed.

  Silence fell as Dahrix regarded Hectar coolly; the ungrateful biologist was only on this mission because of his lucky discovery of the powerful Essence. Normally, Dahrix wouldn’t have to put up with a biologist on his mission into the Etherless Void, but the Guild Prime had deemed it necessary.

  Dahrix let some of his displeasure show and watched the researcher swallow in response. It was hard for Hectar to meet his red-eyed visage, framed by his robotic face, and he knew it. Add this to the militaristic and sterile environment of his control room, and most individuals squirmed.

  Dahrix let the relative silence linger, coolly regarding Hectar as he began to sweat. Normally, the Control Room hummed with conversation. But not on Dahrix’s deck. Each Mechano-Lord on deck worked seamlessly together, communicating silently and only when necessary. Dahrix smiled as Hectar began to crumble under the unnerving clacking of keys. Hectar had come on deck so confident, too.

  Dahrix finally spoke, emphasizing each word. “These excursions cost our expedition speed.”

  “Sir, it’s just...It’s just a small delay. We, uh, don’t have a bearing yet. Can we just throttle back and wait for the return of the Alchemy and Biology Guild’s research ships?” Hectar stuttered.

  Dahrix’s jaw servos whined as he clenched his teeth. Dahrix wasn’t upset about the loss of speed. He was furious about the lack of directional bearing. The Flow Ridians were supposed to have had the beacon up days ago. What was the holdup?

  “Hectar, you will take a guard from the Mechano-Lords with you. This is not the time to lose any piece of the armada. You have exactly one hour to set up your equipment, and then you shall return to formation. Understood?”

  Hectar lurched from the room, barely in control of his body functions. Dahrix’s anger surged and he debated firing his eye ports at the imbecile. He blinked instead, and waited for the second soft hiss of the metal doors. Hectar had finally left his deck. Good riddance.

  Dahrix’s body relaxed. He turned and faced the central navigational projection globe. Its blinking blue lights and sectional grids highlighted every ship in the two hundred and twenty-five strong fleet. This was ninety percent of the power that the Guild Collective could muster, and he was its glorious leader.

  Geb and Tirahnya, the heads of other guilds, had joined this foray into the abyss. Each commanded a battleship of their own and led a portion of the fleet during combat situations.

  As Mission Commander, by order of Dario, the Guild Prime, he alone would shoulder any failures.

  He wasn’t naive. Other commanders sent daily reports to Dario about his actions. Dahrix posted regular updates to the Guild Prime himself, after all. His pertained to the information that the Flow Ridians revealed. His coolant circulation increased as he thought about the creatures described by the humans—the Etherience that they would give—the loot! Imagine constructs made of asphalt, concrete, and other building materials. Creatures so large they were literal moving mountains. And best of all, each of these mountainous ‘Golems’ apparently held an Epic Class rank. That was the same as his own!

  How fast would his guild level on a planet with Masterclass wildlife? How rich would they become? So many untapped Dungeons, Territories, and quests. All they needed was a heading.

  Dahrix scratched his cheek, an unnecessary habit he hadn’t been able to break in his hundreds of years of life. He continued to study the globe as he spoke aloud to his Lieutenant, “You are absolutely sure you made the beacon's higher functions undetectable?”

  “As I explained, it is impossible to completely hide those functions. However, we used our best—”

  The smell of burning metal cut off his Lieutenant’s report. Dahrix shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He had been wanting to vent his laser ports all day and finally had. That imbecile Hectar always brought it out in him.

  The weapons had only damaged the globe, luckily. Dahrix sighed. “Get maintenance up here to replace the Radar globe—please.” No point venting more anger on a fellow Mechano-Lord. It wasn’t their fault that all these illogical sapient beings existed.

  A notification light blinked to life, and Dahrix strode to the station where another crew member sat. Dahrix’s subordinate reported, “Guild Leader, the beacon has gone live!”

  Dahrix’s coolant circulated even faster as the crew member zoomed out of the two-dimensional representational map. The cycling fluid slowed back down as the map finished resolving at an appropriate distance. The beacon was exceptionally far away; probably more than a year of travel at full speed.

  “That explains the timing delay of the signal,” Dahrix surmised to the room. He turned to his Lieutenant. “How many days ago would the beacon need to be set up to travel this distance?”

  With a few key clicks, his Lieutenant responded, “Sir, at least one day, twenty-one hours, thirty-five minutes, and twelve seconds. Assuming no planets or debris lies between us and it.”

  “Order all ships back to formation. Send in the ‘Back-Up Plan,’” said Dahrix. He returned to his captain’s chair. His facial muscles creaked, forming something he had been told resembled a ‘wolf smile.’ With the signal streaming, he now had an Ether connection to his converted minions. Perhaps it was best to hold off on taking too much control. For now. He needed more information and a better feel for the situation.

  His mood began to sour again, and he slammed his gauntlet down on a glowing red mushroom-button set within a pedestal beside his chair.

  Outside the ship’s window, eight balls of fluorescent green light bloomed in the darkness of space. He thought about the eight planets that Hectar had painstakingly established monitoring equipment on. Hectar’s reports held hope that life might one day return to their barren surfaces. Unfortunately, that just wouldn’t do.

  While the bombs that had been placed on the planets by his Mechano-Lord Guards wouldn’t destroy them, they would make them uninhabitable for many years to come. He knew he would receive an earful from Hectar for dispersing toxic gas, but his directive was clear. If they couldn’t occupy the planets, ensure that no one else could.

  As the Back-Up Plan passed Hectar’s ship, the imbecile’s squeaky voice came over the emergency channel. “What are you doing? Dahrix, please recall those torpedos. Wait—why are all the sensors on the other planets going haywire? Dahrix, are you insane? They’re Planetary Gods—you can’t just bomb them.”

  Dahrix let the speed of ‘The Back-Up Plan’ speak for him. The torpedoes detonated and showered the darkness with bright yellow light directly to the fleet’s port side, spilling a potent nerve block onto the surface of the planet. It would be hundreds of years before the toxins would fully dissipate. The sound of twisting metal filled the room as a maniacal grin stretched over the dark black metal of Dahrix’s face.

  Dahrix wouldn’t allow people easy access to power. Not this time. Never again. No one would ever look down on him or his people again. He would find the means to grow stronger still.

  Chapter One

  “Wake up! Do you want your living body to actually die?” Michabo shouted as he popped back into the Spiritual Grotto where Rocky currently resided.

  Rockland Barkclay rolled over on the meticulously groomed grass and groaned. He wasn’t sure he wanted to wake up today. He had been in this idyllic landscape for what felt like weeks, and could remember the scenery without opening his eyes. At first, he had marveled at the perfectly cultivated Grotto, which was an exact copy of his Territorial Grotto. A three-story, black residential building surrounded the massive yellow Guild Tent that once dominated the center of the space. Approximately twelve Dragonsca
le Longhouses provided shelter for about five hundred people in their dorm-style rooms. There were a further three that had been designated as small apartment complexes, while a short distance from the Longhouses was the Mess Hall. He wished he could eat in this place.

  What kind of supposed paradise doesn’t have any food?

  “Didn't you hear me? I said, wake up.”

  “Oh, I heard you.” Rocky slowly opened his eyes. His exaggerated yawn matched his arms, stretching widely and melodramatically. “I'll stand up if you answer some questions about all of this. Let's start with something easy. What is this place?”

  Michabo was some sort of mix between Native American and a cute furry creature. He was either wearing a living bunny skin robe, complete with floppy-eared hood, or he was part rabbit himself.

  “I already told you. It's the Spirit Realm. Now get up.” Michabo thumped his rabbit foot.

  “How is that a helpful answer? “Rocky yawned again and pressed his body further into the soft earth.

  Michabo's foot thumped faster and faster.

  “Hold on now. Don't get your ears in a knot.” He had been with Michabo in this place for far too long already, and the stupid, limp-eared bunny-man refused to answer any questions.

  Like every other day since his arrival, Rocky stood up and began his Seraphim Sword forms. He yawned once more—there was really no way of telling if it was morning, afternoon, or night in the Spirit Realm. His usual routine was sleep, annoy the rabbit-man, practice sword forms, and top it off with Meditation.

  “Just because time flows more quickly here than the Gaian Plane doesn’t mean you should stay longer.” Michabo grumped at Rocky’s slow-paced forms.

  Rocky sensed the man glaring as he completed the first thrust and parry of the ‘Kata.’ He geeked out a bit at being able to use the word for the training Sela had drilled him on, relentlessly. Before the apocalypse, a kata was something an anime character performed—not him.