Fist Full of Credits: A New Apocalyptic LitRPG Series (System Apocalypse - Relentless Book 1)

by Craig Hamilton

  HP: 1148/1290

  I blinked at the ridiculous name for a moment as I took in the sight of the disgusting creature that was easily three times the size of any groundhog I had encountered yet. Thick rolls of fat rippled under the beast’s hide, and it warbled in pain as it became engulfed in flames.

  The floor of the chamber seethed beneath the large creature. For a moment, I had a flashback to the swarms of sewer rats I had fought on the first day of the apocalypse.

  Then I read the monster tag displayed by Greater Observation above the nearest one and realized that the hairless little creatures were the whistlepig young.

  Whistlepig Chuckling (Level 2)

  HP: 24/24

  There were at least two dozen of the dog-sized pups on the floor of the room, and their mass prevented their massive mother from charging toward me. She bared her teeth at me and chittered angrily.

  The warbling forced the baby groundhogs to retreat to the sides of the chamber, and many fled out another tunnel that I could see beyond the big mother. The movements of the young cleared a path between us, and the raging mama groundhog charged toward me.

  The rolls of her fat rippled, and the clap of slapping flesh filled the burrow. I fired the hybrid rifle again, and an inferno blossomed around the whistlepig’s face. The explosion halted the charging beast and charred several of the young monsters.

  The mother groundhog threw back her head and let out a shrill whistle that reverberated through the underground space. The sharp noise bored through my left eardrum, and I winced as I felt it pop. A trickle of blood dripped out of my ear and down the side of my head.

  A notification popped up that I had been deafened, and the only thing I could hear from my right ear was an echoing ring. I shook my head to clear it and gritted my teeth against the piercing pain.

  Mental Influence Resisted

  I focused on the threats in front of me and found that my distraction had nearly been fatal. I flung myself backward as large incisors snapped down where I had been. The teeth that slammed into the ground and dug into the dirt floor of the burrow were nearly as tall as my leg and would probably have bitten me nearly in half.

  I scrambled backward on my elbows, dragging my rifle until I was out of range, then I pushed myself back to my feet.

  The smoldering whistlepig frantically dug at the passageway, attempting to widen it enough to get at me, but the breeder was far too large to fit more than its head into the tunnel. I stood just beyond its reach and watched as it snarled at me. Then I shot it again.

  The incendiary coated the face of the creature in flame, and it recoiled from the mouth of the tunnel. When it backed away, I saw that fire still flickered along the fur on its side.

  It fled to the far side of the den and scrambled at the passageway there. The bulk of the creature worked against it again, far too large to escape down the narrow tunnel.

  Confident that the thing would keep burning for a bit, I swapped magazines back to standard rounds and continued a barrage of attacks that eventually dropped the massive creature while I remained in the relative safety of my narrow tunnel.

  Once I was sure the big whistlepig mother wouldn’t get back up, I ventured into the chamber and dispatched the remaining young that hadn’t managed to flee or already been burned to a crisp.

  I stored the massive corpse of the breeder using Meat Locker, but it took up almost all of the available storage space. I’d have to make multiple trips if I wanted to haul all of the dead back to the harvesting station at the starport.

  The chamber had plunged back into total darkness, since there were no more fires to light the area with the dead breeder now residing in my System storage.

  I spent the next several hours stalking through the lightless tunnels as I mapped them out and hunted down the remaining whistlepig young. It was gristly work, but it had to be done if I wanted to ensure that this source of attacks on the starport ceased for good.

  When I finally returned to the surface, I found that the sun had nearly reached the far horizon. The light still nearly blinded me after spending so many hours in complete darkness.

  When I returned to the starport, my first stop was the creature harvesting station. The corpse of the breeder drew a small crowd of Pharyleri, and there were still several who stood around marveling at the size of the beast by the time I finished the half dozen trips back to the burrow to retrieve the rest of the dead.

  After I’d finally dropped off the last corpse, I spent several minutes haggling with Emilyana over exactly how many Credits each one was worth. I ended up giving in to a reduced bulk rate, since I really didn’t want to have to take multiple trips to a Shop for just a handful more Credits for each corpse.

  It had been a long day, and I decided to call it a night. I let Emilyana know that I was done for the day unless anything suddenly attacked the perimeter and headed off toward the terminal. I’d found an out-of-the-way place on the ground level and spent most of the nights there over the last couple weeks.

  A pillow might have been nice, but I’d slept in far worse places over the years than the threadbare, but reasonably comfortable, couch in what had once been an employee break room for the airline ground crews.

  As I stretched out on the couch, I reviewed my status screen. Despite the sheer amount of killing I had performed since my last level, quite a bit of it hadn’t netted much experience toward my next level. The whistlepigs had given me reduced experience since they hadn’t posed much of a threat, and the young ones hadn’t gained me any experience at all. The breeder had netted me a fair amount, but that was because she had represented a significant threat.

  Beyond the overall slight experience gained for the day, my mundane Skills tab had registered a few increases since I last checked. Stealth, tracking, and all of my weapons aptitudes had all been raised by one or two points from the heavy usage I’d made of them over the last weeks. Even my haggling skill had gone up a point, due to the constant negotiations over monster corpses.

  I closed my status screen and relaxed while pondering how to spend my remaining pair of Class Skill points. Access to my Class Skills had proved satisfying and greatly improved my capabilities, though most of the gains were most useful outside of combat.

  Between Meat Locker and Right Tool for the Job, my Inventory space had greatly increased. I could store whole corpses inside of Meat Locker, which meant I could sell more monsters and their parts for additional Credits. Since my normal Inventory space was mostly no longer being used for weapons, ammunition, and other combat gear, those slots could be used for more loot. I didn’t really need more capacity since I could currently sell my hauls promptly, so I ruled out adding more points to those two Class Skills for now.

  The rest of my abilities were far more difficult to exclude, since I could think of reasons why improving each of them would be a good idea. Another point added to On the Hunt would make it harder to penetrate, and I wanted to keep my unusual Class obscured. An increase to Keen Senses would improve my detection, overall movement, and aid my reaction speed. Greater Observation would get more range and added details about a focused target. Adding to Implacable Endurance reduced stamina costs further. Hinder gained range and increased the slow effect. Finally, improving Rend raised the damage and duration, while lowering the ability’s recharge time between uses.

  I mulled over my options as I lounged on the couch. In that half-asleep state, my thoughts kept returning to a phrase I’d heard repeatedly in this System world—knowledge is power.

  If that was true, my best option for long-term survival was to reduce what anyone else could learn about me. Others would have their own versions of observation powers, so I needed to strengthen the ability if I wanted to continue hiding my full status.

  That convinced me, and I dropped the point into On the Hunt. After I confirmed the selection, I checked the ability description for the Class Skills and found that it had updated.

  On the Hunt (Level 2)

 
The Relentless Huntsman has a reduced System presence and increased ability to disguise their visible titles, class, level, and stats. Effectiveness is based on the user’s Skill level and Charisma. Mana regeneration reduced by 10 Mana per minute permanently.

  The updated Class Skill seemed even better than I’d thought. A reduced System presence seemed to indicate that I would draw less attention to myself, which was exactly what I’d wanted, in order to stay off the grid as I grew stronger.

  That logic resonated with me so much that I doubled down on my dedication to the Skill and locked in the second of my free points there as well. Though there was no further update to the description, besides the additional reduction in Mana regeneration, the increased level alone left me with more confidence in the Skill.

  Satisfied with my choices, I let myself drift off into sleep.

  Chapter 17

  Early the next morning, I sought to rectify some of the weaknesses in my repertoire exposed by my recent adventure in the underground whistlepig burrows.

  The mass of younglings had reminded me of the sewer rats and showed that I still didn’t have an effective counter for a swarm of monsters. Discussions with some of the Pharyleri alchemists in the crafting station and an exchange of Credits yielded me ten vials of alchemist fire. I would be able to pull a vial from my Inventory and throw it at a swarm of creatures. The combustible mixture would coat the area in flames when the vial shattered on impact.

  I also bought a dozen flares. Those were much cheaper than the vials and almost exactly the same as standard red road flares. Both sets of purchases could be stored in the additional Inventory space provided by Right Tool for the Job.

  When I left the building, I saw a team of Pharyleri assembling a structure at the edge of the tarmac and walked over to them. By the time I reached the group, the framework for a tower had risen over twenty feet. I greeted them as one of the gnomes clambered up the tower and placed a turret on the platform at the top.

  Melton Quickwrench (Engineer, Level 38)

  HP: 425/425

  While the engineer climbed back down, I looked over the weapon that moved slowly atop the tower as it calibrated itself.

  The system was larger than the portable turrets that had been used when we cleared out the terminal. The double-barreled energy gatling sat on a mount that rotated in a complete three-hundred-sixty-degree circle. A rounded sensor housing sat above the paired barrels and reminded me of the Phalanx weapons systems that had defended US Navy warships from missile attacks.

  “Putting in static defenses for monsters?” I asked.

  “Monsters mostly, yes. Once we get operations ramped up, the raw materials that pass through here will be tempting targets for pirates if the defenses aren’t substantial enough.” The engineer looked at the sky and glanced around. “Plus Dungeon Worlds tend to end up full of airborne creatures that are aggressively territorial and generally object to the spacecraft passing through their airspace.” Melton pointed at the air traffic control tower, where I saw another crew hard at work on top of the building. “That beauty will be a threat to anything in the sky once we finish it.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

  “An Icarus Mark VI Quad-barreled Suborbital Cannon,” Melton said proudly.

  “Sounds nasty,” I acknowledged.

  “It’ll certainly handle most large flying monsters like chimeras or harpies,” replied the engineer. “It should even make any dragons think twice before they mess with the starport or any ships overhead.”

  “Even dragons?” I replied with an arched eyebrow.

  “Well, most junior ones at least.”

  Melton grinned as he and the others gathered up the tools they’d scattered about the base of the tower. I really shouldn’t have been surprised that dragons were a thing in the System too. Not after finding out about gnomes, jabberwocks, and bogeymen.

  “We’ve got six more of these to get put in today,” Melton said. “Catch you later, Hal.”

  I waved goodbye as the group headed off toward their next installation site.

  Then I looked up at the tower. Clearly most of my current job was being automated to a certain degree. It might be a good time to have another discussion with Borgym about my plans. I headed toward the traffic control tower and the administration building beneath it, where the clan head could often be found.

  When I reached my destination, I found that the building itself hadn’t changed much, but just outside the security door, a ratty canvas tarp covered something new. The grease-stained tarp looked as if it had been found in an old hangar, and stonework peeked through small tears in the fabric.

  I left the covered object and went into the building. It didn’t take long to find the old gnome, since Borgym was right where I expected to find him, in the command center on the second floor of the administration building.

  In contrast to the first time I had visited the room, almost all of the terminals now sat occupied by uniformed Pharyleri, and a low murmur filled the room as the technicians monitored their active displays.

  The big screens on the front wall showed radar displays of the surrounding airspace and security footage from throughout the starport, including the gun cameras of the new turrets that were even now being assembled around the perimeter. While the traffic control tower above was intended to manage the airspace over the starport, the center here would manage the operations of the entire facility on the ground.

  A new glass-walled office had been added at the back of the operations theater, allowing Borgym to supervise the command center while still having the ability to conduct clan business in private.

  Glad that I no longer had to crawl through the gnome-sized control center to speak with the clan leader, I knocked on the open office door, and Borgym beckoned me in when he looked up from his desk. I stepped inside and closed the door. When I turned back to the clan leader, I found him watching me with a raised brow.

  “It’s going to be that kind of a conversation, is it?” Borgym said.

  I shrugged. “The automated perimeter defenses are pretty much done. That doesn’t leave much else for me to do around here. If the guns are killing monsters, then I’m not getting experience for them. And I have leads for a Quest to track down.”

  The old gnome sighed and nodded.

  “Figured you’d be moving on soon,” Borgym said and then pushed himself to his feet. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

  He led me out of the office and back out of the building. The old gnome stopped next to the tarp-covered object I had noticed on my way inside. A few bungee cords held the cover in place with their s-hooks looped through grommets along the edges of the tarp, and Borgym carefully unhooked them before he pulled the cloth free to reveal the object beneath.

  A chiseled stone obelisk stood nearly as tall as me. Embedded on the front face of the rectangular slab sat a bronze plaque with embossed figures rising from the metallic surface. It was written in a language that bore no resemblance to any written language I had ever seen on Earth. If anything, the scribbles looked more like wingdings.

  I glanced at Borgym. “It’s nice stonework, but—”

  “You can’t read it,” interrupted the old gnome knowingly, and I shook my head. “Look again.”

  I returned my gaze to the plaque and blinked. First the letters blurred, then they shifted in a manner that almost made me dizzy. I shook my head and steadied myself before I looked back at the bronze plate.

  I could understand it now, somehow. I knew that the plaque was not actually written in English, but that was what I saw. I gaped at Borgym, who smirked smugly.

  “We enchanted it to be readable by the viewer in their native language,” said the clan head.

  I turned back to the plaque.

  Our debt to those heroes

  who lay down their lives

  so that the clan might prosper

  can never be repaid.

  Rest in peace

  kno
wing your sacrifices

  were not in vain

  and shall never be forgotten.

  Birlez Grindsaw

  Lieren Mechwrench

  Talliryna Sprocketsworth

  Underneath the names of the fallen gnomes, another section of the plaque listed all of the gnomes in the party who had survived the assault on the airport terminal. I read through the column, recognizing many of the gnomes I had come to know over the past week as they worked to construct a starport from the remains of the airport.

  At the very bottom of the metal plate, a much smaller section held a single name and I felt Borgym step up beside me.

  “The numbers in the first two lists would have been very different,” Borgym said quietly, “if you hadn’t been searching for answers and looking for a fight with the Krym’parke.” The small gnome patted the side of my leg comfortingly. “I hope you find them.”

  I heard the clan leader’s words, but my focus remained on the words etched into the final section on the monument.

  Without the aid of our human ally

  the cost of our future

  would have been higher

  than our hearts could bear.

  Hal Mason

  Chapter 18

  Once again, I cruised along Interstate 376 on my all-terrain motorcycle. This time though, I headed east, away from the airport where I had spent the last week and back toward downtown Pittsburgh.

  Unlike my previous trips down the interstate, I found the highway surprisingly easy to navigate, especially the closer I got to the heart of the city. Instead of occupying the traffic lanes where the cars had rolled to a halt as the System disabled them, the vehicles that littered the interstate were now tangled closer to the edges of the road. Smashed bumpers and crumpled quarter panels showed where the vehicles had been knocked out of the center lanes, seemingly bashed aside by a larger vehicle driven through them at full speed. Despite the evidence, I saw no sign of whoever or whatever may have been responsible for clearing the roads.