Respawn: Lives 1-5 (Respawn LitRPG series Book 1)

by Arthur Stone

  It shattered, and tongues of bluish flame tried to dominate the unsuspecting planks. Rocky stepped back, frowning. He wasn’t happy with the blaze. It was too weak. The alcohol was burning up too quickly, and it might not truly ignite the wood before it was gone.

  One instant later, those fears melted into a past that seemed infinitely far away. The world changed so dramatically in that moment that Rocky, who had believed himself ready for anything, was as lost as a nerd at a nightclub.

  His gaze was fixed on the shed’s wide-open door, but he still saw the show that happened elsewhere in all its glory. The wall of the shed, exploded, disintegrated by an unimaginable force, amidst a shower of planks and splinters. A massive dark rumbling form, inconceivably terrifying, charged out.

  It was fast. Dizzyingly fast. Abnormally, impossibly, mind-twistingly fast. So fast that Rocky realized his original plan, where he ran back into the barn and crouched to shoot the monster in the eyes, would bring him down with a bad case of claw-in-ass before he had even gotten inside. Not to mention before he had navigated all the manure, bones, and other things on the way. Instead, he would have to force his knee to submit, dive inside head-first like a fish, hope to land on soft ground, and turn and fire along with Kitty. Unlikely. The girl would be shooting modified shells with some of their shot replaced with salt and pepper. These infecteds could sometimes take bullets to their eyes and remain functional enough to deal damage. But nobody liked salt and pepper in a fresh wound. He assumed this would blind the creature and make it easier to kill.

  Kitty had expressed her doubts, calling the plan completely unreasonable. Now Rocky realized that she had been one hundred percent correct. One thousand percent correct, even. He had pretended to be a grand strategist, and he would suffer for it. Within seconds.

  So there was no point to running away. Why even turn around? He threw up his rifle, which suddenly seemed weightless. Without even trying to aim, he fired. The bullet would hit. It had nowhere else to go, considering the size of the hulk seizing towards him, taut with veins the size of boat ropes and covered with brown bioarmor plates.

  He shot once, then made a desperate attempt to grab for the bolt. There just wasn’t time. The weapon was knocked from his hands before he had even pulled back.

  Then Rocky was knocked down on his back, tossed like a pillow, slamming into the ground with ridiculous force. Thankfully it was soft, covered with manure of varying degrees of freshness. An unbearable weight was on top of him. He tried to pull his face from the furious armor plate digging into his cheekbone, reaching for his pistol in vain.

  The only attempt at freedom he could make was to sway side to side. If he could reach the grip of the pistol, he could...

  Wait, then wait? Why was he still able to move at all? He should be torn to shreds, stuffed into the terrifying jaw, screaming in pain as he was torn by razor-sharp rows of teeth.

  But he was alive. And the monster which was nearly crushing him to death was in no hurry to make any motion besides wriggling its feet like a drunk man unwilling to leave his chosen bedplace in a back alley.

  Red text appeared in front of him.

  Note: Personal victory: dangerous infected destroyed. Level 37. Chance of valuable loot: 100%.

  Congratulations on a beautiful fight. You have received 30 distributable base stat progress points. +88 Endurance progress points. +101 Speed progress points. +104 Accuracy progress points. +71 Reaction progress points. +33 Humanity points.

  Level up! Congratulations, you are now level 2.

  How the hell had he just killed this behemoth, with its armor straight out of a medieval joust and its teeth straight out of a great white shark’s mouth? The news was unbelievably wonderful. Miraculous. He wanted nothing more than to spit the dung out of his mouth and laugh in rapture.

  Then figure out how to escape from underneath the carcass without drowning in the smelly mud.

  Chapter 20

  Life Five: Clearing Things Up

  The pitchfork dug into the soaked soil and manure, dangerously close to Rocky’s side, ever so slightly shifting the immense carcass on top of him. By now he had some degree of freedom, but every movement had to be undertaken with caution. The sharp points of the bony armor plates had rent his clothes and his skin in places. He had no particular desire to tear both off in his haste.

  The blades failed to bite into the over-malleable soil and sliced their way out. Kitty was standing on one leg, barely keeping her balance. She cursed. Rocky couldn’t resist laughing.

  “Oh, fuck off. Here I am trying to move a mountain off of you and you’re laughing at me! Look, moron, I’m going to pick up this side of the beast one more time, and you get out from under it as fast as you can. I’m no forklift here. I can’t move it any further.”

  “Why am I suddenly a moron again?”

  “Who else? You almost got yourself killed, moron! You’re stupid, and your plan was just as stupid, if not more! Where did you learn to be so dull? Come on now, help me out. I’m not about to spend all night at this.”

  Risking all kinds of scratches and abrasions, Rocky managed to power his way out from under the dead weight. He rose uncertainly. To his surprise, his limbs still functioned, and the rest of his body seemed to be in decent shape. The news just kept getting better. He still couldn’t help but smile, yet despite the crust of mud and blood hiding his face, Kitty grimaced. “Look at that dumb smile! How dare you chide me for calling you a moron? Any bones broken? Can you move your arms? Wait, you’re wounded. Your face is all bloody!”

  “It’s just a scratch,” said Rocky, unable to wipe the grin from his face. He had never been happier.

  “You call that a scratch?” Why is she so angry?

  “What else? It’s bearable. Come on, this was worse than facing off against a charging rhino. You’re bound to come away with some scratches.”

  “That was practically a manmincer. Look at the size of it! It weighs a thousand pounds. Maybe more! Check your ribs. They could all be dislocated.”

  “Relax, I’m fine!” said Rocky, without any aggression in his voice. His smile broadened.

  This was the first time he had seen his companion genuinely worry about someone other than herself. About him. She was very glad that Rocky was alive, but she was trying to hide it by showering him with insults and criticism.

  Yesterday, he might have been tricked by her evasions, but he recognized them for what they were now.

  Sometimes, people can live together for years without ever coming to know or understand one another. But in other cases, that understanding came in a couple of days, or even just a couple of hours.

  Life experience was what counted. Learning how to live.

  Or how to survive, in this case.

  Kitty was clearly weary, leaning on the pitchfork handle and carefully holding her crippled leg off the ground, avoiding the manure. She looked at the slain beast. “One single shot.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I wasn’t asking you, moron. Just stating it. The biter opened its mouth. Your bullet entered, drove through the center of its brain, and flew straight into the spore sac. I know how this thing moves. You didn’t have time to aim. You’re still a moron, after all. This is some kind of bug. It’s impossible. Nothing like this happens, ever. I need an explanation, Rocky. Now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Who are you? Goddammit. What are you? Why are you what you are?” The girl’s face reddened. She nearly yanked the pitchfork clean out of the ground as she trembled.

  Rocky reached to catch her, but stopped himself. She was okay, and any help from Manure Man was unlikely to be appreciated.

  Regaining her balance, Kitty declined to look at the carcass again. She continued with a calmer, even businesslike tone. “You need to clean out the sporesac.

  It’s easy to do.”

  “I know.”

  “He knows. Sheesh. Know-it-all all of a sudden, eh? Don’t leave anything in there. Take it all, dow
n to the last bit of black webbing. Well? What are you waiting for?”

  “I’m waiting for the shit to slide out of my pants.” He realized that was ambiguous and needed instant clarification. “It’s not mine.”

  “I don’t care how it got in there. Get it out, fast. Do you know if there’s any vinegar inside?”

  That was sudden. “Why are you asking me that again?”

  “Why can’t you just ever answer a damn question?”

  “I already said there was.”

  “Come back later and cover all of this in it. Splash it on each and every spot of blood. That’ll help with the stench, at least a little.”

  “Do you think anything else will show up?”

  “You don’t understand this world, Rocky. The thinkers get killed. The doers survive. You can’t turn off your brain completely, of course, but people who spend all their time thinking don’t survive for long here. So, sporesac, vinegar, then back inside. I’ll go try to find you some new clothes. Your outfit is all shredded, and it’s easier to just throw it away than to wash it. Now, once you’re clean and dry and we’re sitting inside, I want to hear the true story. How you, a zero, a total moron, manage to instantly kill anything running or flying at you. Without a single miss. That never happens, Rocky. Enough stupid fairy tales. I want to know the truth.”

  * * *

  Nine of the coveted spores sat before them on the tablecloth. Kitty had begrudgingly used the moonshine to make some lifejuice out of the tenth.

  That wasn’t all. This situation had some similarities to the time when Rocky had pulled a pile of things out of the head of the most fearsome creature he had seen. Things he had promptly used to commit accidental suicide.

  Two amber-yellow balls, the size of peas, sat with them. They looked like someone had rolled them out of toasted sugar. Then there were four items that looked like ugly, bloated wheat grains. Or maybe the product of some dwarfish relative of the date palm. Then there was another ball with a shape and color like a hazelnut, just a little smaller and not fully opaque in a few places.

  In the midst of all of this, the table was most adorned by a sort of dried starfish shape, slightly larger than a human thumbnail. It was a freakishly unnatural blue-black, a color unlike anything else in nature. Rocky knew without any explanation that this was the most valuable of the items, but he still wanted to hear all of the details.

  Kitty was in no hurry to share them. To the contrary, she wanted details from Rocky. He didn’t know where to begin. His thoughts were confused and challenging to put into words. All he could voice were his assumptions.

  Kitty sniffed her creation and flinched. “Disgusting. And there’s nothing around to flavor it but sugar and honey. What a shitty house to pick.”

  “Does that mean we can’t drink it?” Rock wondered.

  “Not at all. You can drink it in pretty much any form. It’ll just taste disgusting, that’s all. Alright, well, no matter the taste, we need lifejuice. Here.”

  Rocky took the mug and took a decent gulp without daring to sniff it. He suppressed his body’s instinct to vomit the stuff out, while trying not to appear distressed. “I’ll drink whatever you make, to be honest, but the taste is a little less than ideal.”

  “Less than ideal? Sour urine from a sick skunk is better than this.” Kitty closed her eyes in preparation and took a gulp from her own mug.

  Rocky assured himself that his spore balance meter had moved to the right, and remarked off-handedly, “This might shock you, or you might not believe it, but this is only my fifth life.”

  Kitty choked. “So you lied to me?”

  “No.”

  “But you said you died twenty-eight times. Didn’t you?”

  Rocky shook his head. “That’s not quite right, girlfriend. I said my Luck was at twenty-eight. I didn’t say anything about dying. You made that conclusion on your own.”

  What he said was so significant that Kitty didn’t even react to his use of the word “girlfriend.”

  “You could have told me you died less. Why would you fool me like that?”

  “I could have, but you didn’t ask. You were too busy making fun of me for my Luck. But I’m a moron, so why would you ever ask me anything?”

  “Quit pretending to be offended. I know you’re not. Why are you looking at me like that? Have I really offended you? Shit. Well, sorry. Sometimes I myself don’t even know what I’m saying. I didn’t mean it, you know. Everybody here talks like that. How about we just forget it? Peace?”

  “I’m not at war with you.”

  “Peace it is, then. Rocky, how could you reach a Luck value of twenty-eight by your fifth life? Something doesn’t add up. What happened?”

  “Maybe I’m lying about my Luck right now. Or can you see my stats?”

  “Of course I can. You accepted my invite to the party without checking the settings. The invite said that the party leader has permission to view detailed information about each party member. You should read the fine print next time.”

  “Yeah, I’m such a moron.”

  “Oh come on, quit being offended. You have a lot to learn, still. This world has so many things going on. I still don’t know half of what I want to, and nobody knows absolutely everything. So, that Luck rating. You’re unusual, but you’re still a newbie. You couldn’t have pumped it that high. Luck doesn’t even pump by itself, or very rarely, with some achievements. And it doesn’t make a difference. You can have five Luck or ten and you won’t see the slightest difference in how lucky or unlucky you are. So what is your secret?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  “I can tell you do.”

  “I mean, sure, I do know something you don’t,” Rocky admitted, pointing at the table. “Remember how I said I had seen these things before?”

  “Well?”

  “Well, I’ve seen a lot of things.”

  “Where is ‘there’?”

  “In one of the cities I respawned in. At night, I ran into a man like you. With his last ounce of strength, he managed to take out a huge monster. Compared to that beast, the one outside is a toddler, if that.”

  “An elite?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “More than a ton? Or less?”

  “Much more. Enough meat on its bones to feed a country. Impossibly huge.”

  “Definitely an elite. The line is around a ton. Elites are level sixty or higher, or maybe sixty-two, around there. Everyone has different standards.”

  “So this guy asked me to break open the sporesac and bring him something.”

  “Pearls?”

  “Right. Any balls that looked like pearls.”

  “He was dying?”

  “He was already a corpse. I have no idea how he managed to voice his request at all.”

  “Knew what he was doing. If you take a pearl before you die, you’ll get the effect, but later. It doesn’t vanish like everything else.”

  “If you say so.”

  “So what happened next?”

  “Well, I pulled everything out, but then another ghoul came around, similar to the first. I barely managed to dive under a truck parked on the side of the road. But I realized I had no time at all. The beast set to tearing the truck apart at record speed. So there I was, ready to return to that same dormitory, when I thought, ‘Why did that dead guy want these things?’ He hadn’t just asked me to bring them to him. He specifically said to put them in his mouth. So I figured there must be something special about them.”

  “Rocky—did you do what I’m thinking?”

  “Yeah, I messed up. I figured swallowing them couldn’t make things any worse, but it just might make things better.”

  “My God. You did it. How many pearls did you swallow? And what colors?” Kitty was on the edge of her seat, despite her leg.

  “I think they were black, red, and green. Three of them.”

  Kitty let out a squeal he had never heard before. Her face twisted, almost comically. “How many!? Three?
You’re kidding me. You ate a whole three pearls?”

  “What was I supposed to do? Try to play dead?”

  “I can’t believe it. You really took three pearls?”

  “Look, I realized how badly I messed up right away. The consequences were agonizing. What was I supposed to do? Read the user’s manual?”

  “I’m just trying to be clear here. You ate three pearls at once. Right?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And your life after that lasted less than a second. Good guess?”

  “You know the story already, I guess.”

  “That result is obvious.”

  “For you. How could I have known that? I’m just a moron, you know.”

  “Forget all of that,” interrupted Kitty. “You just really don’t understand the situation here. I don’t even really know what to say, to be honest. What you swallowed is absurdly powerful. You have to wait thirty-six hours between pearls, or death is sure. Usually when people get their hands on more than two, they wait even longer, believing that reduces the risk of transformation. I don’t even know what to think of what you did, Rocky. Why aren’t you turning into a quasi?”

  “A what?”

  “A quasi. That’s... Have you seen the early changes the infecteds go through?”

  “Haven’t run into any of those yet,” Rocky said, keeping a straight face. “Come on, Kitty, I’m not blind. Of course I’ve seen them.”

  “Those changes can happen to immunes, too. Similar changes, anyway.”

  “We can become zombies?”

  “No, it’s not like that. Not that bad. But it’s not pleasant, either. If you’re a quasi, you begin to look like an infected of around your level. At least somewhat. Your Strength and Endurance are increased, but other random stats are reduced. Some abilities become unavailable, and others stop developing. Others... Well, suffice it to say that quasis have enough problems. I mean, what would you do if you were walking through the forest alone with a rifle and encountered a three-hundred-pound ghoul?”