Apocalypse respawn

I still remember it as if it was yesterday... I rushed to the city gate with my team. As we turned a corner, my eyes widened at the scene before me. An enemy in armor was in the middle, chasing Sengrar who was flying. On the sides, projectiles were zooming towards the enemy. From time to time, the masked woman teleported and smashed the enemy to the ground, only for him to get up as if nothing had happened.

I recognized that armor. It was the armor of the Truckdriver's memory, the ones who had mercilessly killed most of the population even before the apocalypse. The ones who had certainly killed my mother.

Finally, I saw the bodies of people I knew. Without thinking, I rushed towards Hiurs, who was leaning against a partially destroyed house. I lifted his head. He was dead.

Of the initial eight, only Roaes, Truckdriver, and I remained.

—

Rargnes stretched, took a quick look at the house he had lived in with his former companions, then left and stumbled upon Roaes.

"You're leaving already?"

"Yes, I have a few more appointments, but I really enjoyed the time we spent together." He smiled. He, Roaes, Truckdriver... emotions he thought he'd never feel again overwhelmed him, and they stood looking at each other for a moment without saying anything.

"Rargnes!" Laure called from the carriage. He patted Roaes on the shoulder, whispered that he'd try to get him an administrator role, and got into the carriage.

"You took your time!" she said cheerfully. "This must be the first time I've seen you sincere!"

"Can you read people now?" he asked, amused.

"I manage."

"But I think you're mistaken. I'm always sincere!"

"Well, that's perfect! I have the forms right here!"

Sitting on the other side of the carriage, she handed him some paper and a ballpoint pen. On the first page, it read: "Why are apocalyptic worlds worse than ours?"

"Again?" he widened his eyes. "Ma'am... do I really have to do these? I'm from the third apocalypse, I barely remember my old world!"

"Hey, it'll help you remember. I know you love these contests and wouldn't miss one for anything! And you remember elements from the third, you can fill it in with those from the fourth, see? No problem!"

Rargnes smiled back and began to write. Even Laure or Milton didn't know what had happened in the third apocalypse. The king erased all traces—it was already a miracle they knew it was an apocalypse.

Rargnes had time to finish his writing and get bored before they reached their destination. He tapped his fingers against his face, looking at the scenery. Images gleamed in his eyes, his imagination projecting them into the surroundings.

"Say," Laure said.

"Hmm?"

"Don't you want to chat a bit? I'm bored."

"Tell Milton, he -"

"That's not funny," she cut in coldly.

"Well, I wasn't finished anyway," he said, turning towards her.

"I'm not stupid enough to not know what you were going to say. He fights for the king's prosperity." There was a silence, then she added, "More than anyone."

"I know," he muttered.

'Completely brainwashed.'

He remembered Hiurs' cold body in his hands. He had never really known him, after all. And yet!... His eyes widened for a moment before returning to their usual position.

He turned towards the window and they remained silent until the end of the journey, when Laure began to brief him on the aristocrat, guided by a goblin. The aristocrat himself welcomed them, standing about thirty centimeters taller than Rargnes, as they discussed various topics.

"And you said you fought in the apocalypse? Against the noble, no less?"

"Ah, it was nothing. I was just a soldier among many..."

"Still!" he said, beaming, then he leaned in as if to whisper, "You know, I would have loved that path."

"You can't?"

The aristocrat shook his head with a slight grimace, "When you have territories... and the war against other nobles requires our presence."

From the energy emissions the person in front of him gave off, even Rargnes, without a class, was stronger than him.

"It doesn't make one live much longer."

"Excuse me?" The aristocrat seemed disconcerted.

"I mean, the energy."

The aristocrat smiled and opened his arms. "What can I say? That's how the world is. I want to leave something for my family. I'd gladly fight, but everyone must stay in their place, right?"

"Certainly... and we can learn from everyone. You see, in this world people could live up to a century! Of course, few people made it, but the average, in good conditions, was 80 years!"

"Oh yes, indeed! But our bodies are different."

"True, but we tested our methods and they apply very well to your bodies, even better."

"Hmm..."

"Even the noble uses them!"

"Oh really?"

"I only saw him once, but he was very interested, both in this and in the weapons."

"Weapons, you say?"

"Yes, it's..."

They talked until evening. At that moment, the aristocrat called a goblin to escort him to the guest room. He inspected his surroundings, assured himself he was alone then mumbled repeatedly: "City of Gersea, portal 5. Another version of me. Apocalypse. City of Gersea, portal 5. Another version of me. Apocalypse."