Apocalypse Tamer

It was early October. The night was cold and Basil slept soundly in his warm, comfortable bed. No nightmare could trouble his mind and no one would dare to wake him up.

“Cooohoo!”

Or so he thought.

The scream echoed through his window with the vocal strength only a rooster could muster. The earplugs in Basil’s ears failed to hold back the song. His fists clenched under the pillows.

“Coooohooooo!”

Basil’s eyes snapped open in annoyance and silent fury. He grit his teeth and tried to go back to sleep. If he ignored the scream, perhaps it would go away…

“COOOHOOO!”

[Berserk] Ailment Resisted.

“Is he going to SHUT THE HELL UP?!” Basil shouted and slammed the bedroom wall with enough strength to shake up the whole house. “SHUT UP!”

But the rooster on his roof wouldn’t deprive the world of his singing talent, and dared to defy his owner’s wishes for silence.

“COOHOO—” The scream started off as strong as the others but came to an abrupt halt. The rooster’s voice became a muffled sound, barely audible. “Coo… coohoo…”

After a few seconds of pleasurable silence, Basil heard someone knock on his window. Plato’s tired voice came through.

“It’s okay, Basil,” he said. “Problem solved.”

“Thank you.” Basil buried his face into the pillow and fell back into sleep.

By the time Basil woke up and went to make some breakfast, the event had slipped through his mind. To his astonishment, he found Vasi the witch preparing herself a cup of coffee in the kitchen in a black dressing gown. Plato curled on a pillow near the counter, snoring lightly next to a cloth bag.

“Hello, handsome,” Vasi greeted Basil, kindly ignoring his disheveled morning look. From her happy face and well-groomed hair, the witch had slept a lot better than he did. “Want a cup?”

“Vasi?” Basil blinked. “How… why are you here?”

“You don’t remember?” She put a hand on her waist. “Last time we met, you offered to let me use your alchemy lab.”

“I didn’t mean the kitchen.” Basil pointed at the ground. “The lab is downstairs.”

“I know silly, Shellgirl told me. But I don’t like coming uninvited, so…” Vasi spilled her bag’s contents on the kitchen’s counter. A horde of croissants, cakes, and chocolate sweets flooded out of it. “I baked pastries!”

So well-bribed, Basil immediately forgave Vasi for the impromptu home intrusion. He poured himself a coffee cup and they toasted to good cuisine.

“They’re good,” Basil said while chomping a croissant. “Mmm… hazelnut?”

“It goes well with the butter.”

It did. Basil registered the tip for later use. “Did you craft them?”

Vasi chuckled, her mouth half-full of chocolate cakes. “No, of course not. My Perk lets me craft potions, talismans, and witch stuff. Not pastries.”

“That makes me think, you would benefit from my Lair’s Crafter Workshop if you joined my party.” With the experience gained from the Incursion, Basil could recruit the witch. “I can add you now that I’ve earned more levels. Plus you would gain a new Perk.”

“You are very kind, Basil, but I refuse.” Vasi petted Plato behind the ears, which the sleepy cat liked very much. “It’s a question of principle. I’m no monster to add to your stable.”

“Suit yourself,” Basil replied. “I only propose it to help you.”

“I know.” She winked at him. “That’s why I haven’t poisoned the pastries yet.”

Basil smiled and turned to look at the world beyond his kitchen’s windows. The sunlight slowly pierced through a faint cloud of mist. Bugsy mowed the lawn near the shore by cutting grass with his mandibles. The centimagma waved his antennae at Basil upon sensing his presence.

It had been three days since the Incursion ended and the team spent them scavenging for supplies. The Unity’s defeat turned Dax into a ghost town full of supplies. Unfortunately, although Basil’s team found their fill of hardware, computer parts, medicine, and other amenities, food was scarce. Either dishes had started rotting due to lack of preservation or wandering monsters looted supermarkets first. As for firearms, the French’s tight regulations on them made armories few and far between; and when the team had finally located one, they found it already ransacked.

Basil had stockpiled reserves to last for over a year, but there was no such thing as too much stored food. This year’s winter would be a tough one. He could feel the creeping cold in the air.

Basil had refined his backup generator with his Fire Rune to improve the output by twenty percent, but he would rather diversify his energy production.

I need to drag Steamslime's shell back to the house, he thought. The colossal device could produce steam in large quantities and provide heating. Studying it would also provide insight into the Unity’s alien technology. But it’s too heavy for a small group like our own.

Basil would figure something out. Eventually.

“Do you have any seeds?” he asked Vasi while finishing his croissant. So good. “I’m going to try one last harvest before the snow comes.”

“I have seeds for many herbs, but few vegetables,” the witch replied. “If I were you, I would cultivate pumpkins and turnips. Samhain will soon be upon us.”

“Samhain? You mean Halloween?” Basil shrugged. “I already have pumpkins in storage for it, and I’m not counting the talking one.”

“You misunderstood.” Vasi shook her head. “In my world, Samhain is the time of the year when dark magic is at its strongest. Cruel fairies play tricks on the unwary, undead rise from their graves, and demons come out to dance with wicked souls. And pumpkins and turnips…”

“Grow at an accelerated rate?” Basil guessed.

Vasi smiled wickedly. “You catch on quickly.”

“There’s no magic of Halloween on Earth,” Basil replied with skepticism. “Unless you count the power of marketing and children’s sweet tooth.”

“Correction, there was no magic on your planet.” Vasi elegantly bit into her croissant. “I can feel it in the air. I would prepare for that night if I were you. Not everyone lives through it.”

How very reassuring. Yet Basil didn’t have any reason to doubt Vasi’s warnings. The witch had been trustworthy so far and a magical Halloween would fit right at home in a post-System world.

“There are other advantages to Samhain, especially if you’re a spellcaster,” Vasi said. “Powerful rituals that only work during special times like the convergence of planets or the rise of comets can be accomplished on that day.”

“You have one in mind?”

“Perhaps.” Vasi grinned ear to ear. “I’m debating between calling the moon to Earth and sacrificing babies to a powerful demon.”

Basil shrugged. “So long as you don’t do it in my backyard.”

“You’re no fun.” She laughed. “I’m kidding of course. Truthfully, I’m researching a ritual that would improve my spellcasting tier access. It’s why I haven't visited before. Lots of prep work.”

“Well, if you need assistance, just tell me. I still owe you a favor for the spellbook you lent me.”

“Don’t be like that, Basil, nobody’s counting points,” Vasi rolled her eyes. “But thanks for your offer, I’ll think about it.”

Basil had the acute feeling he would eat his own words in the near future. But until then, he would check if he had pumpkin and turnip seeds left to plant. With Gardener, they should grow quicker. Basil lacked a turkey to cook for Halloween, but surely a local bird monster would make for a nice replacement.

Speaking of birds... “Plato?”

“Mmm?” the cat grunted. He sounded half-asleep. “What, Basil?”

“What did you do with Jeremy?”

Vasi raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“The rooster,” Basil explained. He knew all his animals’ names by heart.

“Oh, him?” Plato shrugged. “He went away.”

Basil squinted at his cat. “He went away?”

“He fled into the woods, never to be seen again,” Plato lied through his teeth. “I tried to catch up to him, but he ran too fast on his tiny chicken legs.”

Basil didn’t believe the story, so his cat looked up at him with a cute, adorable kitten stare. His owner immediately froze in horror. Plato used that stare when he wanted something… or when he had fucked up.

“Plato.” Basil cleared his throat. “Plato, what did you do?”

Realizing he wouldn’t get away with it, his cat looked down in shame.

“He’s in the freezer,” Plato whispered.

Basil blinked a few times as he processed his cat’s words, before rising from his seat and checking the freezer. The remains of a murdered rooster starred back at him between a mermaid’s severed tail and congealed fries. From his blue face and the marks around his neck, Plato had strangled the bird to death. Even Vasi looked vaguely disturbed at the sight.

“You killed our last rooster?!” Basil asked in shock.

“It was an accident, I swear!” Plato’s shame seemed real enough. “I just wanted him to stop cawing, Basil! Three nights he wouldn’t shut up! Three nights I couldn’t sleep! I put my paws on his throat, but he wouldn’t stop! And my hands… It's been less than a month… I didn’t know…”

Plato raised his hands at Basil.

“I didn’t know thumbs were so powerful!” he said with tears in his eyes.

Basil sighed in frustration. His hand found its way to his forehead. “Plato, Jeremy was our last rooster. We only have hens left and no way to replenish their numbers.”

“I know…” Plato’s shoulders crumpled. The cat had already realized his terrible blunder. “No more chicks.”

“I’m afraid so,” Basil replied. This mistake called for drastic measures. “Until we find new roosters to breed with the hens, we’ll have to slow down on the fried chicken nights. In fact, we’ll probably have to skip them for the winter.”

“It’s a tragedy.” Plato covered his face in despair. “These thumbs have killed…”

“My poor prince of cats.” Vasi tried to reassure the cat by scratching him on the back. “It’s not too bad.”

“It is,” Basil replied grumpily. “I don’t know where we can find a new chicken. I don’t think they’ll survive monsters in the wild and all the nearby farms have been devastated.”

“You don’t necessarily need a male chicken,” Vasi pointed out. “Any male Avian monster type should do. Find a nice thunderbird or cockatrice to settle in your coop, and you’re set.”

“I don’t think genetics work that way,” Basil replied with a deadpan tone.

“In my world, they do; and sometimes type is no barrier to reproduction. There’s a man, the Whore King of Murmurin, who could breed with anyone and anything. He was the stuff of legends.” Vasi set her empty cup aside. “What do you have to lose by looking for a replacement bird?”

“What bird?” Plato asked with tears in his eyes. “I killed them all! No birds dare to approach the forest anymore!”

“They did not,” Vasi agreed with a warm smile. “But that was before the Incursion. Shellgirl reported new monsters running around in the region. Some of them had feathers.”

Basil considered his options and quickly realized he didn’t have any better solution to the rooster problem. Besides, Taming monsters for livestock would reduce his party’s dependency on chickens and rabbits.

After reassuring the devastated Plato that they would figure something out, Basil finished his breakfast and moved to the basement. He found Shellgirl reviewing the items she intended to sell—mostly soap and toilet paper. Orcs loved those products for a reason that Basil couldn’t fathom.

“Yo, partner!” Shellgirl waved a hand at Basil. “Finally ready to meet my fellow merchants?”

“Sure.” Shellgirl had pestered Basil for a long time about meeting other friendly monsters living in the Barthes to trade supplies. Since dealing with Vasi had proved fruitful, he was ready to test the waters with his neighbors on neutral ground. They couldn’t be worse than goblins. “When is the open market planned?”

“Tomorrow evening at the confluence of streams. I can’t wait to introduce you to my customers. They’ll be so shocked to speak with a native human for the first time!” Shellgirl put her hands behind her head. “Anyway, what can I do for you today? Looks like you’ve got a brilliant idea! Come on, share!”

“Vasi told me you reported new monsters in the area?”

“Besides the nimbus creatures?” The cloud monsters had entered the region with the Incursion and showed up whenever it rained. They didn’t look aggressive so far, but Basil wouldn’t take any chances if one wandered near the house. “Yeah, lots of new faces are moving in the marshes lately. Thunderbirds, cockatrices, basilisks, giant toads…”

“They didn’t all come out from our portal,” Basil noted.

“Nah, the birds come from the north. I think they’re stopping by the region as they migrate south. Others though, they’re predators looking for new territory. Most are above level ten too.”

Basil crossed his arms. “They must have come through other portals.”

Incursions were worldwide events. Basil’s party repelled the creatures that stepped through the rift in Dax, but how many portals remained open in the south of France without anyone to hold back the tide? The Incursion displaced hundreds, if not thousands of monsters, who now looked for territory or an ecological niche to fill.

“Also, ‘member the humanoids who slipped through the cracks last Incursion?” Shellgirl asked. “I’ve heard rumors saying that they were elves.”

“Elves?” Basil frowned. “With pointy ears?”

“Yeah, that’s how my orc contacts called them. The pointy-ears. You know them?”

“Yes and no. Every fantasy game I have makes use of them, but they can’t agree on common threads besides the ears.” Basil didn’t particularly play as elves. He found dwarves funnier to play and more interesting. “What else did you learn?”

“Not much, but you can ask my customers tomorrow. I’m sure Orcdad’ll give you the juicy details.” Shellgirl laughed. “An elf archer shot him in the ass.”

“Orcdad? That’s your customer’s name?” When Shellgirl nodded with an amused look, Basil realized originality was among the apocalypse’s many victims. “Yeah, I’ll interrogate him.”

These elves also crossed the portal around the same time as Steamslime, meaning they might be related to the Unity. Basil couldn’t overlook the risk they posed to his own little community.

“Since we’re going to meet with people, don’t you think it’s time to assign your levels, partner?” Shellgirl asked. “Can’t assign mine until you do, and I desperately need more Charisma points to land interesting deals. I’ve found an incredible opportunity for foreign development that we can't pass up.”

“Good point,” Basil conceded. He hadn’t yet assigned the seven new levels he had earned from the Incursion because he wanted to make an inventory of his party’s needs first. The new priorities were recruiting more livestock, growing their food stocks for winter, and investigating the steampunk technology that Steamslime left behind.

Tamer would help with recruiting livestock; Fisherman and Gardener would make gathering food easier; and Technomancer might prove useful with Unity technology. To make sure he would get a new Perk each time, Basil assigned two levels to Tamer, two levels to Gardener, two levels to Technomancer, and the last one to the new Fisherman class.

He immediately felt a surge of energy coursing his nerves. It was as if a bolt of lightning had hit him straight in the spine before spreading to all of his limbs. His vision went white and the world became silent. There was no pain, no numbness, no suffering; only the overwhelming rush of power and indescribable pleasure.

Assigned Levels Stat Gains: +5 STR; +7 AGI; +4 VIT; +6 SKI; +4 MAG; +5 INT; +5 CHA; +3 LCK. You gained 220 Health Points and 85 Special Points, and you can register a new spell in your Spellbook (max 4).

New Tamer Perk: Monster Charmer III (Passive): When monsters reach the level needed to undergo metamorphosis, they will now choose between multiple options rather than having one forced upon them. You must validate the choice as their Tamer.

New Technomancer Perk: Fuel Technology (Active): You can spend Special Points to power machinery instead of normal fuel. The Special Points consumption rate depends on the device used.

New Gardener Perk: Greenhand I (Active): 10 SP. You can automatically identify the properties of plants, such as the stats of [Plant] monsters or the status information of fruits, with no chance of failure.

New Fisherman Perk: Fishing I (Passive): You gain medium proficiency with bows, spears, fishing lines, and nets (x1.5 damage); any attack you make with these weapons counts as [Aquaslayer] and inflicts supereffective damage against the [Aquatic] Type (x3 damage). You can also craft fishing [Traps] with or without a recipe and create your own formulas.

Seven levels at once was a unique experience. Basil had never taken hard drugs, but he suspected that he had just gone through a high. He gasped for air when the feeling of absolute power receded and nearly collapsed to his feet.

Basil breathed in and out, his lungs stronger than before. He looked at his shirt and noticed that his biceps had expanded in size, nearly to the point of ripping his sleeves apart.

“Wow!” Shellgirl clapped. Her voice was clearer than before, the intonations on her words more varied. “You’re jacked!”

My hearing improved, Basil realized. He also noted subtle shades of green coloration on Shellgirl’s face that he had never noticed before. My sight too. Must be the new increase in Skill.

He couldn’t deny it anymore; the System changed humans the same way it had transformed Plato into a puss-in-boots. Stat increases modified Basil’s body. He usually leveled up too gradually for the changes to become obvious.

Basil would never say no to more muscles, yet he couldn’t help but wonder what he might look like thirty levels from now; and how it would change him mentally.

You unlocked the criteria for the [Druid] Spellcaster Class and the [Dragonknight] Fighter class.

Neat.

“Agh, I haven’t evolved yet!” Shellgirl complained. “Does your new Tamer Perk tell you when I’ll transform?”

“No,” Basil replied, “but it’ll give you multiple choices.”

“Ohoh, really?” Shellgirl rubbed her hands. “I wonder what they’ll be… the path of the wealthy or the path of the strong? I wouldn’t mind better defenses against thieves and monster bandits.”

Basil’s Perk wouldn’t show him the choices available. He probably needed to wait until his monsters reached the threshold. Overall, he was pleased with his new abilities. Greenhand I would help him harvest edible plants and Fuel Technology could power house amenities without stressing the generator or solar panels. As for Fishing…

“My halberd counts as both a spear and axe,” Basil noted. “System, does it mean I get two proficiency modifiers from Fishing and Slaughterer?”

Weapon proficiencies do not stack together; only the highest of them applies.

“What about supereffective damage? If I use my fire-infused halberd against a fish weak to Fire and to Aquaslayer, would they take nine times the damage?”

Multiple supereffective multipliers do not stack together. An attack is supereffective or it is not. However, the supereffective multiplier does stack with a critical hit or a weapon proficiency.

More and more questions came to Basil’s head. Come to think of it, he had been so busy surviving day-to-day attacks that he could never study the System’s basics in-depth. “What about accuracy? Does my halberd’s accuracy stat mean I have roughly three chances out of four of hitting a target no matter what I do? That can’t be right.”

Your chances of hitting a target depend on many factors, from your Skill to the terrain and the enemy’s Agility. The number shown in a weapon’s stats is a modifier among many.

“And why are you telling me this now? You were never so straightforward in the past.”

Intelligence is the stat determining your understanding of the System. Your Intelligence stat was simply too low.

Basil angrily punched the screen, his fist going harmlessly through it.

“You should give up, you know?” Shellgirl said. “One day you might hit one of us by accident.”

“I have a better idea.” Basil tightened his fist. “I’ll delay my gratification. I’ll hold my hand back, and the day I find a Dismaker Labs employee, I’ll strike them once for every time I’ve shown restraint.”

Shellgirl rolled her eyes. “Anyway, with our combined Charisma points, we can finally redeem that voucher and make the sale of the century.”

Basil raised an eyebrow. “Voucher?”

“Funny you should ask!” Shellgirl snapped her fingers and a tiny scroll appeared in her hand. “I got it from a wandering merchant a while back. He’s returning to the marshes in time for the open market meet-up. I’m sure we can negotiate a good deal.”

She unfurled the paper before Basil’s eyes. The document was an ad for a magical item shop. It would have looked respectable and professional if not for the sinister logo: an ouroboros symbol floating over a grinning skull and alchemical flasks.

“‘Tye’s Boiling Cauldron,’” Basil read out loud. “‘10% off from the best magical item shop in the multiverse. Open to the living and the dead.’ The last part is oddly specific.”

“Sounds like a respectable company if you ask me.”

Basil doubted it, but it wasn’t like he could shop magical scrolls at Carrefour either.

But it wasn’t the dead part that stood out the most. One word on the voucher made Basil incredibly curious.

“Multiverse,” he whispered.