Redeemer of the Dead: A LitRPG Apocalypse (The System Apocalypse Book 2)

by Tao Wong

  It takes a surprisingly short time for things to calm down. A nearby mage throws a raincloud into the burning store while her neighbors fix the walls leading to their stores by purchasing upgrades in the Shop itself. Bodies are either healed by spells or mend on their own, and the survivors stagger away. The attacker is hustled off into Roxley’s domain by a pair of silver-and-gray-clad guards. Fred Curteneau, our erstwhile mayor, pops out of the Council building to talk to people for a few minutes, walking around and glad-handing people with that big, oily smile of his. Somehow, people find it comforting. They set to work sweeping up the mess of glass and steel from the road, then it’s over. At least for most people.

  “Amelia?” I walk over as one of the guards bags the storekeeper’s body under her directions.

  “John.” The ex-constable nods to me, a hand on a wide hip. She’s wearing her RCMP uniform again, though it looks to have been let out to accommodate growth in her shoulders. Amelia’s voice is cool and professional, but there’s a tightness in her eyes. I don’t envy her. She’s the only human in Roxley’s guard and as such, takes all the flack that we throw at him on her shoulders.

  “What the hell happened?” I look into the remains of the store, shaking my head.

  She purses her lips, shaking it after a moment. “I cannot comment on an on-going investigation.”

  “What investigation? I saw it. A whole group of us saw him throw the grenade. He murdered her!” I snap, temper flaring.

  “John, I can’t talk about it,” she snaps, and Vir materializes at my side.

  The entire “looming to intimidate” thing never really worked on me, not even pre-System when I was a good four inches shorter than most Westerners. Now that we’re nearly the same height, it really doesn’t work. I return the black-skinned, white-haired dark Elf’s glare.

  Amelia snaps, “There are rules, damn it. I know all of you people think there aren’t, but the rules are in place for a reason.”

  “All of us people?” I snarl, my hand clenching. Sure, ever since I got the genome treatment I look more Keanu Reeves than Jet Li, but that doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten the barbs and screamed insults over the course of my life. Not that I’ve forgotten being told to go home to China, even if I grew up in Vancouver.

  “Hunters,” Amelia says, pointing a finger at me. “All of you, walking around with your weapons and powers, thinking you’ve got it all figured out. There are rules, and I’ll be damned if I’m bending them to just satisfy your curiosity.”

  “Give it up, boy-o, she’s got a job to do,” Ali interjects.

  I grit my teeth and look between the pair before finally jerkily nodding acceptance. What can I do? Beat them up for not answering my question? I walk away, snarling to myself, questions unanswered. What the hell was that all about?

  “He wanted his store back,” Lana fills me in later that evening. I caught her in the backyard, playing with her furry friends, and prodded her for information while children laughed and played in the living room. “His family owned the store pre-System. Then, well, Holly bought the store from the System and set up shop. He wanted her out, said she didn’t have the right to it. She refused. The guards had been called in before and sided with her…”

  “And he killed her for that?” I mutter.

  Lana snorts, burying her face in the dog. “You tried to kill Eric.”

  Rufus whines slightly, feeling Lana’s tension, and the puppy turns in her hands to lick at her face.

  “I… I might have,” I admit, shaking my head slowly. I had my reasons, but so had he probably. We’re all under so much stress, and everything that we knew is gone. “Shit.”

  “Yes,” Lana replies and hugs Rufus. She lets the silence linger as I stew on the parallels. In the end, she speaks again, her voice low. “It’s not the only case like this. Not like this, like this, but similar. People moving into houses that aren’t theirs. People taking cars from lots and having them fixed up. The workers at the brewery getting upset because we don’t hire them because we don’t need them.”

  “I didn’t know it was that bad.”

  “Bad? That’s the easy stuff. Who owns what, that’s easy!” She laughs, slightly hysterically. “We have kids who don’t have parents, parents who don’t have kids. We have fathers who won’t pay or help take care of their kids. We’ve got assholes who decide that because they’ve got combat classes, they’re important now. They start throwing their weight around, acting like big shots. And because everyone—everyone—who is important is out hunting, they are big shots.

  “You know why we opened the brewery? Do you?” She twists her hand slightly, pulling out a small ampule that she hands to me. “Aarak Blood. The best high in the System for us humans. Better than meth supposedly. We had people buying this and giving it out because there was no more alcohol. And they took it because they needed something to get their minds off this life. So instead we opened up the brewery and let them get drunk. That was a fun conversation to have with Jim.”

  “What’s Roxley doing about all this?” I say, frowning.

  “Roxley? Nothing. He’s letting us humans sort out human problems, or so says Vir. Except when someone gets his guards involved. And then the troublemakers end up getting fined. Fined!” She shakes her head. “It’s as if everything is about Credits to him.”

  I shake my head, trying to understand why Roxley would do that. It didn’t mesh with the man I remembered. Not knowing what else to say, I murmur, “Sorry.”

  “No, I am. You don’t need this. It’s not your job, not your thing, right?” Lana rubs her face, wiping away the tears.

  “Lana…”

  “It’s okay. This isn’t your city. It isn’t your problem. Just… thank you for listening.” She stands, pulling Rufus with her as she walks away.

  I open my mouth then shut it again, watching her leave. She’s right—I left. I purposely chose not to get involved, not to be part of this. Hell, I’m playing both sides of the equation with the Hakarta just to see what the hell might happen. It was a choice, so now I don’t get to bitch about it.

  “Ali?” I stare into the distance, absently stroking one of the huskies, who has taken to lying next to me.

  “Yeah, boy-o?”

  “Is it all like this?”

  “Mmmm… you mean the other cities?” He shakes his head, holding up a hand. “No. You guys are lucky. For definitions of luck. Most places don’t have enough people to have a functioning government, never mind worrying about things like who owns what. The big cities were hit harder than anyone else. No one got Perks or any other bonuses, so they had no way to fight back. They also got a slew of higher-level monsters. And you know that monsters level up too? Yeah, guess what killing hundreds, thousands of humans did to even low-level monsters.

  “You guys were lucky Roxley came along and brought his guards. Lucky that the System decided to put a Shop right here. You might be losing a few people here and there, but it’s a hell of a lot better than the tens or hundreds you have.”

  I grimace, nodding slowly. “Are we the only big organized group left?”

  “Get over yourself, will you? Of course not.” Ali rolls his eyes. “There were a few armies that were out in the field, training or fighting with their weapons fully loaded. There are towns that have managed to survive and hold on, like Carcross. And Roxley isn’t unique either. Quite a few others jumped on the chance to buy up small towns and villages and play lord.

  “Truth is, take a city like New York, add all the survivors together, and you’d still have a bigger population than you have here. Just that, so far, they’re scattered. Give them a bit of time and you guys will just be another small, remote group.”

  I grunt, smiling slightly. That’s good. That’s very good. “Do you have a number?”

  “Of?”

  “Survivors.”

  “Twelve percent or so.” I flinch, and Ali sighs. “Some places, some cities, they weren’t that lucky when the System hit. Santiago d
isappeared when an Air Elemental sucked up all the Mana and air in the region. Bangalore had a swarm of Liminir Locusts, flesh-eating insects that get into everything. New Orleans was flooded when a Leviathan surfaced nearby and got shot at by the navy. As I said, you got lucky.”

  I twitch, eyes going glassy as I imagine what it’d be like in any of those cities. Gods. “Lucky.”

  Chapter 6

  I hold up the claw I took from a mutated wolverine and another from a Crilik shifter, comparing them and my soulbound sword laid out before me. I extend my senses to feel the Mana they contain, staring at them in silence. I’ve been doing this for the last few hours and I can finally, finally sense the differences, the way the Mana changes.

  I slowly put down the Crilik shifter’s claw and pick up a discarded armor plate from Sabre, one that had a hole punched through it earlier. Gently, I feel for the Mana that imbues it, then I bring the wolverine claw into contact.

  There. Right there. Just at the edges of my senses, where the two make contact, I can feel the way the claw’s Mana and the armor’s interact, pushing against one another instead of melding. I shove harder, feeling the minute changes until the claw cracks, splintering under the pressure. I grunt, discarding the broken claw and picking up the shifters.

  Again, I work slowly, adding pressure, but almost immediately, I can feel the difference. The Crilik shifter’s claw has a significantly denser Mana signature, and as I press it into the armor, it punches a hole almost immediately, the denser Mana signature pushing against the weaker signature in the armor.

  At the same time, I feel the electromagnetic force of the armor change. Mana that is absorbed by the claw directly weakens the bonds of the armor, making it easier for the claw to punch through. When I repeat the experiment with my sword, it slides through the armor the easiest, shaving off bits with almost no effort.

  When I’m finally done, I stand up and stretch out of pure habit. I hate to say it, but Manbun—Aiden—had a point. It’s all about perception, and that damn hipster/hippy wannabe has a better idea of it than anyone else in the city. Everyone, everything around us is permeated with Mana. The higher the level of a creature or thing, the higher the density of Mana it carries. We all interact with Mana regularly, shaping it to our wills even when we aren’t actively thinking about it. It’s why we don’t break doorknobs with a touch, why a giant can walk across a wooden bridge that isn’t rated for its weight, or why when I run, I can gain the speeds I do without tearing giant divots in the ground.

  We reshape the Mana around us and use it to make the world fit our preconceived notions. The Classes and Skills we use are just a shortcut that the System offers, a set of buttons for the monkeys to press to make Mana work for them—but if you want, if you put the work in, you can directly influence Mana itself. That’s what most Class-enabled, non-affinity mages do, even if they don’t realize it. The ones with an elemental affinity manipulate the element itself instead, which is a whole different can of worms. I haven’t figured that one out yet properly, though I’m making slow gains.

  Grinning, I stretch and pull up my notifications, which I’ve had minimized till now.

  Skill Increase

  Mana Manipulation Level 4!

  Skill Acquired

  Mana Sense (Level 1)

  The ability to sense Mana in people and objects is extremely important for mages and Mana users. Current range is limited to touch and will expand on training.

  Quest Update—the System

  You’ve taken another step in understanding the secrets of the System by expanding on your ability to sense Mana.

  Reward: +500 XP

  All right, enough lounging about staring at my abilities. Even if the Hakarta aren’t expecting me to provide anything new anytime soon, I’m going to have to come up with something. I’m not entirely sure “humans are being humans and hurting one another” is going to cut it. At the very least, I should be out hunting.

  Not that I’m going to be hunting, at least not today. Jogging over the bridge that connects the suburb of Riverdale to Whitehorse, I glance at the clock in my peripheral vision and put on a little burst of speed. I’m late. Not that I’ve ever seen them leave on time, but it’s still unprofessional.

  Unsurprisingly, when I get to Main Street, the trucks and cars that make up the caravan to Carcross is still getting itself put together. I’m not the only one who’s late. Jason spots me almost immediately, waving me to the front, and I jog over to him, nodding a greeting.

  “You can relax, they’re still in the meeting.” Jason waves toward the Elijah Smith Building that the remainder of our local government has moved into. The squat, gray building stares onto Main Street itself, opposite the towering monstrosity that makes up the System-designated City Center and Roxley’s offices.

  “Morning, squirt,” Ali greets Jason, who snorts.

  “Morning, jumpsuit,” Jason retorts then offers me a piece of dried fruit.

  Taking the fruit, I take a seat next to the teenager. “You got kicked out?”

  “Never invited.” Jason rolls his eyes. “I’m too young to be of use in the negotiations. It’s fine for me to fight monsters, train the adults, and walk the walls, but sit in a negotiation about our city? Too young!”

  “Isn’t that the way,” I sympathize, glancing back at the building. “What were you guys negotiating anyway? I never got the full story.”

  “Huh,” Jason says. “As I understand it, Whitehorse wants us to stop taking in so many immigrants. Particularly their crafters. They’ve also been pretty unhappy with the loot we’re purchasing from their hunters direct. Or the goods we’re bringing in for resale.”

  I frown, noting how it’s all things that Whitehorse wants. “What do you get for this?”

  “Food. Credits. More security.” Jason shrugs. “Whitehorse has an actual working farm, something we don’t. We’re still importing a bunch of food to keep everyone fed, so getting a surplus would be good. And we wouldn’t mind more hunters working the area around Carcross. We’ve still got to keep half of our hunters on the wall.”

  I nod slightly, sighing. “You guys still intent on sticking it out?”

  “Uh huh.” Jason lowers his voice, murmuring, “I don’t get how you people live here without a safe zone. At least when I’m home, I know I’m safe. I keep looking over my shoulder for trouble when I’m in Whitehorse.”

  I chuckle, shaking my head. “It’s not so bad. The guards are always dispatched to potential spawns before they actually come through, so we just have to worry about the spontaneous evolutions.”

  “Still, gives me the creeps,” Jason replies. “Anyway, they’ve been talking about it for the last few days, but they should have been done already. I guess there’s always something new.”

  “Old. Something old in this case,” Elder Andrea Badger replies, stomping forward. The old First Nation’s lady and titular Mayor of Carcross walks up to us, greeting Ali and me with a smile. “Bureaucracy kept us up. However, the forms are all signed now.”

  Jason shrugs before jumping up and waving to everyone. Once he gets their attention, he points at the cars before clambering into his car without waiting for the others. Behind him, the constable rolls his eyes, calling out orders to get everyone moving. I open the door for the elder before heading to my seat in the front. Time to babysit the children.

  The trip back is relatively uneventful. More monsters than normal—six groups to be exact, but Jason, Mike, and I tear through them like hot knife through butter. Gadsby still likes getting in close and pounding on them with his truncheon, though he seems to have picked up an upgrade that fires bolts of pure Mana into bigger and nastier monsters. Jason keeps things simple, casting bolts of plasma and ice to rip holes into monsters. Myself? I switch tactics, of course—beam rifle for soft, simple targets and the sword for harder things.

  I’m not entirely sure why they even bothered to hire me—the pair of them are more than enough for the monsters we meet, and the
additional hunters aren’t exactly sitting around doing crossword puzzles. Unfortunately, I’m not seated next to the elder or else I’d ask her why they bothered.

  When we roll into the city, I get a quick notification that the quest is completed. Carcross hasn’t changed much since I last came here—the improvised wall is now less improvised and an actual constructed wall with watchtowers and automated sensors set up throughout. I know the wall is just the most visible of the town’s defenses—multiple shield defenses are active and ready, protecting against ground and air infiltration. There are numerous pits and even a few automated gun stands, all waiting to be activated. In fact, I’d say Carcross is better defended than Whitehorse. They certainly have more firepower packed in than we do.

  Every single-story building in Carcross is System-enabled by now, and the elder waves goodbye to me before heading for the Cultural Center and headquarters. Gadsby follows her to report in, and Jason gets dragged away by a cute blonde almost immediately, leaving me alone among strangers. Except the citizens of Carcross aren’t exactly strangers, not anymore. A fact that I’m reminded of as I’m dragged into the mess hall for a late lunch.

  As Ali and I sit around, drinking and eating and chatting with the locals, I wonder if this is Andrea’s play. Reminding me that the people of Carcross are still here, still around, still friends. I laugh at a joke as I finish off my latest bowl of stew and glance at Ali then at the time. Well, it’s only three o’clock and Jason did say they had a problem with monsters around the city. No reason not to do a little hunting out here.

  Waving goodbye to the group and declining offers of help, I get Ali to show me the latest known monster groups on the map. Time to go kill something. I’ll head back to Whitehorse tomorrow.

  Life has fallen into a routine since my talk with Lana—I wake up, I meditate, I train for a few hours, sometimes by myself, sometimes with Mikito or Richard and his pets. Training together, we’re slowly breaking down that wall we put up between us. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than nothing and holding a grudge over the fact that I nearly killed Minion is just silly.