The System Apocalypse Books 4-6: The Post-Apocalyptic LitRPG Fantasy Series

by Tao Wong

  “But the women…” Sam falls silent as the three women seated around me just dare him to finish that sentence. Sam coughs and changes his tune. “The non-combatants, they’re a bit nervous.”

  Diplomatic as he might be, we know he’s talking about the small group of women who have been making our lives miserable. Somehow, they’ve missed the memo about the earth-shattering change in the social order and seem intent on ignoring certain realities—like violence and the need for Leveling.

  “Tough cookies. They’re safe,” I state flatly. “It’s the last chance for their hunters to gain some Levels and Credits safely, so they can sit and stew for all I care.” At the pained look on Sam’s face, I sigh and offer him a little salvation. “We have to leave in an hour if we want to get to the town by daylight.”

  “An hour. I can work with that,” Sam says, bobbing his head. He casts a hungry look at the food on our table, and Lana sends him off with an impromptu steak sandwich literally dripping with gravy and monster bacon.

  “You’re too nice to him,” Ingrid says.

  “Not his fault,” I say.

  “Well, he should tell those idiots to come tell it to your face.”

  “Eh… I’d rather not.” I grimace, recalling the first few days.

  Dealing with that group, especially Ms. Starling, had been painful. I’d actually tried to listen to them bitch about the lack of proper accommodation until I nearly lost my temper. Thankfully, Sam stepped in before things got too far, but I had seriously considered hitting them till they shut up. Which, when you think about it, isn’t exactly the most civilized or smart behavior. Look, I said I thought about it—I didn’t actually do it.

  Clearing her throat slightly, Lana redirects our conversation. “What’s the plan for Fort Nelson anyway?”

  “Ummm… plan?”

  “Yes, plans. They’re not just for clearing dungeons,” drawls Ingrid.

  I glare at the First Nation woman. Just because I don’t really talk about my plans doesn’t mean I don’t have one. “What’s there to plan? We go in, we drop them off, and we see what’s up. After that, well, we move on.”

  “Oh, John…” Lana sighs. “What if the local government doesn’t want refugees? What if they stop us from going in? What if they need help? Do we want to stay and help? Clear a few dungeons for them or something?”

  “Uhh…”

  “And what are we doing out here anyway?” Mikito says, pointing a pair of chopsticks at me. “You haven’t actually told us.”

  “Didn’t exactly ask you guys to come along,” I protest. I get a pair of snorts and an eye roll, making me rub the back of my neck. “I didn’t… well, I do have some plans. But mostly, I’m looking to check out how the rest of the world is doing. Maybe help out a bit here and there…”

  Truth be told, I have a goal. A few actually. But they’re so nebulous, so far away that I dare not breathe them out loud. Never mind the fact that anything I say can and will be registered by the System and be potentially sellable to someone else; my plans just aren’t pertinent to the discussion. Not yet at least.

  “Great. We’re the A-Team,” Lana says.

  “Dibs on Face,” Ingrid says.

  “Well, I guess I’m Hannibal then,” Lana says while Mikito looks puzzled.

  “And John’s BA, of course,” Ingrid says, which makes Lana frown in thought.

  “I don’t know. He’s more Murdock than Mikito,” Lana points out.

  I open my mouth to protest then decide against it. When faced with two arguing women, one of which you occasionally bed, I pity the fool who gets involved. Instead, I explain to Mikito what they’re talking about.

  Chapter 2

  “Ahoy the gate,” I called out, hours later, when we finally arrived at Fort Nelson. Or technically, the outer gates of the city.

  There must be something instinctive in our desire for walls, even if they are somewhat useless. These walls aren’t normal brick—and their slight silvery sheen hints at them being System-assisted at least—but I could probably punch through them given enough time. Or heck, jump over the twenty-foot walls.

  Then again, that’s not exactly fair. I’m comparing my Advanced Class Level 37 strength of 97 against their wall while the surrounding zone is only around level 15+. The most dangerous thing we’ve found close to them is a Level 35 dungeon, and that’s a good two-hour hike east. So perhaps the wall isn’t entirely irrational.

  “Who are you people?” a voice calls down, the owner hidden behind a gun.

  I absently note that a beam rifle is pointed at me—a rather nice one too. A moment later, Ali flashes the guard’s status above his head.

  Ian Crew (Level 24 Hunter)

  HP: 280/280

  MP: 180/180

  Condition: Scared

  “Hunter? That seems really generic,” I send to Ali.

  “The idiot took a Basic class and traded his perk for a Soulbound beam rifle. At least he got an upgradeable toy,” Ali says. He’s not actually here with me, instead floating deeper in town. He’s scanning the System for information about the place and feeds back to me.

  “Visitors from up north. We’ve brought some refugees from the communities above,” I shout back. “We have women and children here. Along with some trained fighters and a whole bunch of loot.”

  I watch the guard glance at the convoy behind me, then at our hover bikes. Interestingly enough, while he’s noted Lana’s pets, he doesn’t seem as concerned about them, even if his eyes keep straying to the redhead herself. The menagerie of animals is rather awe-inspiring to most.

  “Sorry! I can’t let you in. I need to tell Arik and get his okay,” Ian says. “Do you mind waiting?”

  I nod agreeably and settle in to wait, letting my eyes run over the other guards, who have relaxed after seeing that I’m happy to wait. As I said, I could force my way in, but what’s the point? A few minutes of waiting won’t hurt us.

  “You came from up north?” Ian calls down once he’s sent off one of the guards with his message. His eyes roam over our gear again, stopping to linger on Lana before he stares at me. I know what he sees—armored jumpsuit, high-end beam pistol, expensive hover bike—and can see him doing the math in his head. “Things must be going pretty good up there.”

  “You could say that,” I call back. Memories flash through my mind—the fights and the losses we saw in Whitehorse. Richard, Ulric, Miranda. Roxley and his betrayal. My hands clench and I push aside the hurt.

  Tired of shouting, I get off the bike and flex my feet, jumping up onto the wall and landing next to the startled guard. I see more than one gun swing toward me, the guards’ eyes wide, but no one takes a shot. Very good discipline. I’m impressed.

  “What—”

  “Sorry. Got tired of shouting.” I lean back against the wall, purposely crossing my feet and putting myself in a disadvantageous position. After that is done, I hold out my hand. “Chocolate?”

  “You…” He stares at me then down at the wall then back at me. “What Level are you?”

  “That’s a bit rude, don’t you think?” I smile at him absently as I take the time to read the notification that’s popped up since I crossed the boundary of the town. “At least take me out for dinner first.”

  You have entered a Safe Zone (The Village of Fort Nelson)

  Mana flows in this area have been forcefully stabilized. No monster spawning will occur within boundaries.

  This Safe Zone includes:

  Village of Fort Nelson City Center

  The Shop

  Quest Hall

  More…

  Chastised, Ian quiets down. I can see him mentally consider and discard asking me to move. Funnily, I actually would, if he asked, since my point has been made. This should dissuade them from doing anything stupid, but considering they’ve been hesitating to help out a bunch of refugees, I’m not exactly enthused with the welcome we’ve received so far.

  “We sent people north, but they said… well, it ge
ts harder,” Ian says to fill the silence.

  “It does. Gets pretty high up in the Yukon.” Out of the corner of my eyes, I watch him twitch, and I pop the chocolate into my mouth since he hasn’t taken it.

  Behind me, I hear the hushed conversations of my friends as they wait, the refugees trying to convince each other that they’ll be let in. The guards are still tense, shooting me worried looks.

  “You’re from the Yukon? Watson Lake or…?”

  “Whitehorse,” I answer.

  From a building, another guard pops out and runs up to Ian, who walks over to listen.

  “Arik is coming. They’re to stay outside till they take the Oath,” I lipread the guard saying to Ian.

  Ian nods and walks back to me, smiling slightly, nervousness quite well hidden. “Arik, the ummm… owner of the town is coming to greet you himself. If you can just wait…”

  “Ali, get back here. And see if you can figure out what they mean by an Oath,” I send to the Spirit before looking at Ian and smiling languidly. “Sure. Mind if I let the others know that we’ll be waiting a bit?”

  “Of course, but he won’t be long,” Ian says.

  “We’re getting greeted by the owner himself. So we’ve got to wait,” I call to the group below.

  I kind of wish I had set up some kind of signal for potential trouble, but well, I didn’t think about it. Naïve, I guess. Or maybe, as Ali says, overconfident. Still, my friends have been living on the razor’s edge for over a year now and their instincts are as good as mine. Perhaps better. I can see the subtle shifts in their demeanor as they get ready for potential trouble.

  While we wait, I engage Ian in some small talk. Trading information about the System, learning a little about their experiences. Fort Nelson was hit badly in the initial few days, the city spread out as it is. Luckily, a group of survivors found the Shop and managed to rally others, eventually becoming able to purchase a few safe zones in the city center. After that, it was just a matter of time before they established the Village. Lucky for them, no external party was that interested in picking up the Settlement Key here, so they could purchase it themselves.

  “And now the entire Yukon/Alaska region is under control of this Duchess,” I say as I finish a summarised version of our year.

  “Who is a dark elf. But not…?” Ian says, his voice rising a little at the term dark elf.

  I don’t blame him. The concept of dark elves isn’t something that popular consciousness knows much about. It’s more a geek thing. Heck, I mostly know of them from a book series my ex used to rave about and I never got around to reading.

  “Truinnar. Just think of them as Truinnar. Black-skinned, very pretty elf-looking creatures with a highly sophisticated, back-stabbing society,” I say.

  “That’s insane,” Ian says then turns his head as figures walk down the street.

  I watch the group come, a larger blond gymrat in the lead, followed by a middle-aged lady and a teenager at the back. The blond gymrat is obviously a bodyguard, the way he watches everything, though from the way they move…

  “The kid in the back is Arik, isn’t he?”

  “Got it, boy-o. Don’t forget, he could have gotten a gene treatment,” Ali sends back, reminding me that age is much more difficult to pinpoint these days. So he could either be a really smart teenager, like Jason, who’s taken over the town or just someone who has had their physical body reset to a younger age by the System.

  Within minutes, the group is up on the wall and making greetings. Or at least, some greetings.

  “I’m Arik Dorf,” Arik says, offering me his hand and a smile. “This is Piotr and Min.”

  Level 31 Justiciar, Level 29 Bodyguard, and Level 31 Administrator respectively. Ali floats, invisible to everyone else, behind the group, staring at Arik with a fierce expression. My entreaties for information have been ignored in favor of making faces, which annoys me since I really want to know what type of Class a Justiciar is.

  “John Lee,” I say. “So what’s the holdup? Sun’s setting, and while it doesn’t necessarily get much more dangerous after dark, it certainly gets more uncomfortable.”

  “Straight to the point, aren’t you?” Arik says, smiling agreeably. Seeing that I’m not biting, he continues. “Well, Mr. Lee, the problem is that you have a large number of fighters. Many of whom, I understand, are nearly as strong as my guards.”

  “You’re worried about them taking over?” I say, slightly incredulously.

  Arik raises an eyebrow. “You really have an untrusting nature, don’t you? No. I’m worried about them causing trouble in the city and us being unable to do much about it. We’ve had incidents with survivors who have… accepted… the violent nature of our present lives.”

  “Oh…” I consider what he’s not saying. Right. Idiots with power, especially young idiots with power, throwing their strength around. I recall Amelia, the ex-RCMP, complaining about that more than once. “So what do you want us to do?”

  “It’s actually quite simple. I have a Skill that allows me to take an Oath from others. Those who break the Oath are penalized significantly, which will make handling them easier,” Arik says.

  “That’s really interesting. I’ve heard of Skills like that before—Lords, Kings, and the like often have them—but this is the first time I’ve seen a Justiciar,” Ali comments to me.

  “Sounds a lot like a Contract to me,” I send back while speaking to Arik. “And what is this Oath?”

  “I swear to do no harm to the citizens within the Village of Fort Nelson, to abide by the orders of duly-appointed guardians of the peace within the Village, and to leave the Village if so requested,” Arik says. “And to clarify, all the guardians wear these pins.” Arik taps a small oblong pin with a castle on it that shifts like it’s a holographic projection. “They’re also linked to each individual, so if they get removed forcefully or aren’t in contact with the designated individual, they lose their luster and break down.”

  “Seems mostly reasonable.” I’ll admit, I can see the potential for abuse, including the stratification of those in power and those not but… “You’ll have to ask Sam and his people about this yourself. As for me, I don’t intend to stay long. Amend the Oath to add a timer and a designation that it’s only for the town and we’re good to go.”

  Arik’s eyes narrow while gymrat bristles at my tone. The Administrator leans in and whispers into Arik’s ear.

  He nods, smiling at me. “Of course. We’ll designate that the Oath only takes effect in the city.”

  “For a period of two weeks,” I said, smiling. “I’ll be gone by then.”

  “For a month.”

  “Done,” I say.

  After that, I take the Oath easily and send Ali down to relay the information to the team. Arik takes his leave too, to stand at the gates to greet and administer the Oath to the refugees. I absently note that no one gives him trouble, except for Sam. He balks until Lana pulls him aside. A short while later, he’s back, helping the Administrator manage the refugees. I have to admit, the village is efficient at sorting and housing our little convoy, sending the groups to various empty houses or, for the eager, the Shop.

  “So, Ali, what’re the consequences of breaking this Oath anyway?” I ask the Spirit while waiting.

  “They vary, but mostly depend on the level of the Skill. With only a few points, you’d probably take a hit to your own Levels temporarily,” Ali sends back to me as he stares into space, reading whatever information he can see in the backend of the System. “Won’t make a huge difference to you, but I’d be careful about taking an Oath with a real King.”

  When Lana and the group get in, I hop down from the wall, after waving goodbye to Ian, and command Sabre to follow. I hear a few muted gasps as the PAV moves by itself, quickly muted.

  “So, Shop?” I grin at the group and get confirming nods.

  A couple of weeks of fighting and not having access to the Shop means that our inventory is filled to the brim. We�
��d even taken to dumping some of the less valuable items with the refugees, just so that we didn’t waste them. And of course, in my Altered Space, I have a few corpses that desperately need a good Butcher or Harvester.

  “Shop!” Mikito says happily, gunning her PAV.

  We all follow the young Japanese woman till we come across the central pedestal with its silver-steel sphere. Each person who touches it disappears, transported to a Shop location—an extra-dimensional retailer. Of course, which Shop you enter is dependent on a number of factors—personal invitations, your reputation, the amount of Credits you have spent, all of that.

  The Shop I’m transported to is green. Lots and lots of green, from the simple reception desks to the waiting couches to the personal shopping rooms. A few seconds after I appear, the anthromorphic Fox who seems to be my personal shopper comes hurrying out of a room, all kinds of toothy smiles.

  “Redeemer!” Fox greets me. Clad in a vest and blousy pants combo, his dark brown eyes glint with avarice as he ushers me into a quiet room. “It has been too long.”

  Ali darts off to speak with his own friend in the Shop and take care of the selling of our loot.

  “No Shop access,” I explain. “I’ve not got much to buy today. Just need a refill of some of my consumables.”

  “Ah…” The Fox deflates a bit before he perks up like the consummate professional he is. I probably wouldn’t even have noticed the first if it wasn’t for my high Perception. “Perhaps I can interest you in a portable link?”

  Portable Shop Link (Single Connection)

  The portable shop link transports a single individual to the connected Shop. May only be used outside of dungeons and on the designated world (Earth).

  Uses: 3

  Cost: 20,000 Credits

  “That seems cheap,” I say after I finish reading over the information and staring at the small chip that makes up the link device. Over in the corner, I see the Fox finishing up my order for the various bullets, missiles, and grenades that make up my refill.