Apocalypse Tamer

The city was quiet, too quiet.

Dax was somewhat famous among French towns for its hot baths, thermal sources, and water cure industry. Most of its inhabitants worked in tourism, healthcare, or hospitality. The l’Adour river and three bridges separated the historical city center from the satellite municipalities. Dax was never a busy town, but it always enjoyed a healthy level of activity.

Today, Dax was dead.

All its inhabitants had been turned to stone as far as Basil could tell. Statues filled the narrow streets. The wrecks of overturned cars blocked the central lane alongside the occasional broken watcher. Burns covered a few buildings’ façades and colossal footprints disfigured the pavement.

And the silence, this ominous silence…

“Boss, I sense something.” Bugsy applied his antennae to the ground. “Heavy footsteps.”

“I hear them too,” Plato said, his ears turning in a specific direction. “The bots haven’t left the city.”

Basil gathered his breath, his axe heavy on his shoulder. “How far?”

“Six to seven streets away,” Bugsy replied. “The monster is heavier than I am.”

Basil glanced at the town’s highest points: the twin towers of Dax’s cathedral. He would have a good view of the area from up there.

“Bugsy, you’re too big and easy to notice,” Basil said. “You stay away in the city’s outskirts unless you hear the sound of battle. Rosemarine, to the cathedral with me. Plato, you’re stealthy enough for recon. The bots mustn’t learn of our presence, do you understand?”

His cat fled into the streets and Bugsy didn’t argue against the order. They understood the danger ahead might prove greater than their deadly encounter with Megabug. They would stick to the plan and keep their heads down.

Basil walked to the cathedral with Rosemarine following him without a word. The classical-gothic church’s twin towers and massive stone façade cast a dark shadow on a silent plaza. Its open doors screeched with the wind.

Basil ordered Rosemarine to keep watch over the entrance and stepped inside the building. His footsteps echoed within its main hall. Faint daylight crossed through stained glass windows portraying saints and angels. The robots had broken a few of them, much to Basil’s fury.

Although he didn’t practice much, Basil was an Orthodox Christian at heart. The profanation of a holy place, even a Catholic one, remained a crime in his eyes.

Basil steadily climbed stony stairs up to the left tower’s summit. He half-expected a Unity watcher to intercept him. None did. Basil doubted that the fear of God had motivated them to leave the area.

Basil reached the tower's summit without incident. Windows gave him a dizzying view of Dax; enough to see metal orbs flying in the distance, the sunlight reflecting on their bronze shells.

The watchers.

Basil took a pair of binoculars from his bag and scanned the town. He immediately detected signs of battle. Three major bridges usually separated Dax from the other shore and its smaller municipalities. One of them had crumbled into the l’Adour river and the other was clogged by abandoned cars. The third, he couldn’t see from his position.

Groups of watchers patrolled the rivershore and a mighty creature followed in their wake.

Basil held his breath at the sight of a living tank. Four black telescopic tentacles of whirling gears lifted an ovoid core of bronze and steel. The machine’s body would put an elephant to shame in terms of size and weight. Plates of metal bound by bolts shielded it from attacks, the strange symbol of the watchers painted on its back like an ominous warning. A single crystal eye two meters wide lay exposed at the creature’s forefront right above a ventral cannon. The four metal claws at the end of its tentacles crushed the pavement under their weight.

The System provided Basil with a hint of the threat’s power.

Unity Gearsman

Level 13 [Artificial].

Faction: Unity.

“Nope,” Basil decided after a single look at the creature’s level. “Nope, nope, nope, I’m out, I’m done, I’ve peaked!”

That was three levels higher than Megabug, and if that wasn’t enough, a small swarm of watchers swirled above the machine. The party was outnumbered, outmatched, and outgunned.

They were also a week too late to save anybody. Basil could infer what happened from the sheer number of broken windows and petrified citizens. The watchers had fallen upon the city at night when most of the population slept.

Basil suddenly realized that the attacks on his house had given him the wrong assumption. Since he had fended off assaults easily enough, he thought everyone else would.

In truth, he had survived by avoiding the attention of deadlier monsters. If Megabug or the watchers had attacked his home before his classes gave him the power to fight back, Basil would have died. It wasn’t skill that carried him so far, but luck.

Strange, the robots stick to one side of the river. Basil turned his binoculars to Dax’s other shore. Satellite municipalities like Saint-Vincent-de-Paul occupied it. Why haven’t they crossed over?

The sight of a helicopter flying over the other shore answered his question.

Basil immediately recognized it as a Colibri Eurocopter painted white with red stripes. The light utility vehicle didn’t carry weapons, but was large enough to transport up to four passengers alongside the pilot. Basil couldn’t see the people inside due to the distance and the sunlight-reflecting windshield. The vehicle turned over the bridge still standing as if daring the Unity gearsman to cross it.

“Of course.” Basil’s eyes widened as he put two and two together. “The military aviation school!”

Basil remembered that the French land army trained future helicopter pilots in Dax with light vehicles. The noise made by their flights usually drew criticism from the civilian population. If an aircraft patrolled a shore the robots refused to invade, then it could only mean one thing.

The French army resisted the monsters!

“I hope somebody picked up that phone,” Basil murmured. “Because I called it!”

You earned 750 EXP (93 each).

Basil turned his binoculars towards his allies on the ground in sudden panic. Did the watchers detect them?

He quickly confirmed that Bugsy hadn’t moved from his post. Rosemarine, however, chewed a watcher’s wreckage near the cathedral’s entrance.

“Nothing to worry about.” A startled Basil looked over his shoulder, only to face Plato. The cat joined his owner with a crystal core in his mouth, before letting his catch roll on the ground. “We scored a few easy kills.”

“Don’t surprise me from behind again,” Basil scolded his cat. “Especially in hostile territory.”

“Oh, did I frighten you?” Plato peeked through the window. “Wait until I tell you what I saw.”

“I’ve already noticed the level 13 Gearsman.”

“Which one?”

Basil’s blood froze in his veins. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m not.” Plato’s tone turned grim. “I counted at least two. One patrolling along the river, the other guarding the arena.”

The arena… Basil could barely catch a glimpse of the building’s white walls from his current viewpoint. Dax’s arena, originally built to host Spanish Corridas, was rarely used for anything more than concerts nowadays.

“Why would a living tank be guarding the arena?” Basil asked Plato. “There’s nothing precious there.”

“I don’t know, but the place is crawling with watchers. I couldn’t approach it without risking detection.” Plato sat at his owner’s side. “So what do you think they’re doing running along the shore back and forth? Enjoying the river’s view?”

“Looks like the French army controls the other side,” Basil replied. “If not them, at least a human group.”

“Really?” Plato’s head perked up in interest. “Wait, the French haven’t run away or started collaborating?”

“Nope, they’re resisting.” Basil smiled smugly at his cat. “You owe me ten bucks.”

“Can I pay you in birds?” Plato sighed, before suddenly frowning. “Wait a second, if there are humans on the other side, why haven’t the bots attacked them yet? If a level 10 bug kicked our asses, a level 13 gizmo should wipe the floor with any screaming human whelp thrown its way.”

“Your trust in my species is heartening.”

“You’re welcome, Basil.”

Basil remembered that the army’s helicopter school was located south-east of his current position, on the side of the city which the robots controlled. Had the French army been forced to abandon the aerodrome to the monsters and move its vehicles north?

Dax was far away from any dungeon so the robots couldn’t replenish their numbers. If they had taken losses taking the aerodrome, then it made sense for them to secure existing gains rather than risk a new push. The lack of manpower also explained the absence of watchers patrolling Dax’s streets. They needed all available monsters to keep the other shore under surveillance and contain the army’s remnants.

Basil achieved superhuman strength after taking a few levels. Professional soldiers with classes would prove a match for even the fiercest monster.

“Megabug was a scout who wanted his Faction to get ‘an early lead,’ whatever that means,” Basil said. “The bots probably followed the same strategy. They took over the city for their masters and now await new orders before continuing their march.”

“Sounds quite sophisticated.”

“You don’t say.” Basil studied the gearsman’s patrol route to better predict it. “This entire setup reeks of a planned assault.”

Unlike the goblins, the machines didn’t behave like stupid marauders. They were an occupation force. Considering how they petrified any man or woman they could find, Basil doubted they had mankind’s best interests at heart.

“Apollyon.” Basil cleared his throat. “Megabug mentioned that name as his superior’s.”

“I think he said something about this world being too weak for him,” Plato confirmed before scratching his ears.

“This world. Not the world.”

“What difference does it make?”

“A big one.” Basil lowered his binoculars. “We know Megabug wasn’t created by the Ogre Den dungeon like Rosemarine, Bugsy, and the goblins. I think he and the robots might have come from another place.”

Plato gazed at the bright skies through the windows with big, starry eyes. “Like another planet?”

“I don’t know.” Basil could only make suppositions at this point. “Maybe the System opened the door for invaders to slip in, or maybe bringing them to Earth was the entire point and the System followed them.”

If an army of monsters was willing to send troops to Dax, a small town of utter strategic insignificance… What horrors were settlements like Paris or London facing? Did dungeons manifest out of nowhere to flood their streets with monsters?

What could Basil do? Treat the petrification ailment? He grabbed the core Plato brought him and studied it.

Cannot bypass [?????]‘s [Crafting Encryption] Perk.

The same message showed up whenever Basil attempted to use the orb’s eye to craft. He couldn’t even salvage the core’s material. Whoever built or commanded the Unity watchers did its best to prevent people from reverse-engineering their technology.

“What a shitfest,” Basil cursed as he stored the orb in his inventory. “But I’m glad the army is holding well. The world might actually return to normal in less than a century.”

“So, what do we do?” Plato asked. “We join up with your kindred on the other shore?”

“We can’t do that without the bots spotting us.”

“Please don’t tell me we’re going in axe-blazing like last time,” Plato pleaded. “Do you think the gearsmen can kill me eight times in a row?

Basil didn’t want to find out anytime soon. “This isn’t going to sound very Berserker-like, but no, we won’t attack the robots. In fact, we won’t intervene at all. Too risky.”

“You don’t want to drive the bots out of town?” Plato squinted at his owner.

“If we attack them without coordinating with the soldiers on the other shore, we risk sparking a general battle they aren’t prepared for. Casualties would mount in the chaos.”

At the end of the day, Basil was a civilian with little combat experience surviving in the woods. He would rather leave trained professionals to handle the urban guerilla. He didn’t exclude making contact with the army in the future, but only in a way that wouldn’t draw the robots’ attention.

And more than anything, Basil worried how soldiers would react to his party. Bugsy and Rosemarine could get mistaken for hostile monsters and shot on sight. Basil’s responsibility was to protect his own first.

He wouldn’t give up on finding a way to undo the petrification ailment though. That was a task where he could meaningfully contribute.

“Fine by me, almighty leader.” Plato rose to his feet. “Let’s go home.”

“We’re not done here.” Basil examined the district with the binoculars. “The machines took over quickly and didn’t ransack the town. With the gearsmen busy patrolling the river shore, we could pillage everything in the city’s outskirts without them noticing.”

Basil hated stealing, but nobody would miss the supplies, and pharmacy medicine might unlock a cure for petrification. The library’s books could shed light on Dismaker Labs and the police station contained an armory.

“Oh, we’re shopping?” Plato licked his lips. “Could we find fresh fish?”

“It’s been a week with no electricity,” Basil pointed out as they climbed down the cathedral’s stairs. “You’ll find no fresh food.”

Plato sighed in disappointment. “I hate apocalypses.”

“I can pray for it to end soon.” Basil stared at the church’s dusty altar with nostalgia. The memories of his mother bringing him to Easter celebrations flooded his mind. Leaving Bulgaria had left him uprooted and deprived him of a sense of community.

God, if it’s not too much to ask, we need help downstairs. Basil made a hand sign to represent the orthodox cross. A bolt of divine lightning would be nice, though I can settle for a sword of heavenly fire or a bazooka of justice. Anything really.

God answered the prayer with silence.

Basil almost left disappointed when he noticed books on the church’s altar: two finely crafted grimoires, one red and the other black.

“Have they always been there?” Basil asked Plato in confusion.

“I dunno, I didn’t pay attention.” His cat swiped his nose with his paw. “So much dust…”

Basil examined the books and the System immediately provided him with information.

The Missal & The Breviary

Family: Spellbooks.

Quality: C.

A pair of spellbooks used by [Priests of God] to learn [Prayer] spells and angelic [Rituals]. Much ink has been spilled on how to optimize proper SP consumption.

By reaching a sufficiently high Magic stat, you can learn Active Perks called Spells. Spells consume SP to work and are classified by Schools, representing their category, and Tiers, their power. You can learn spells from spellbooks and tutors if you possess the necessary classes, passive Perks, and elemental affinities.

“Spells? Wait, I could do magic with prayers?” Basil read the Missal’s instructions on how to hold the mass and a new screen appeared.

Spell: The Mass

School: Prayer.

Affinity: Support.

Tier: I.

Cost: 10 SP.

Restrictions: Only [Priests] of God with a 10+ Magic stat can cast this spell, and only in a Christian church.

Buffs the Luck of all allies within the church’s confines for ten minutes. The blessing lasts even after the targets leave the church’s grounds.

Basil checked the books’ pages with rapturous attention. They included dozens of spells, if not more. Each liturgy, each church ritual, carried power of some kind; from healing the sick to empowering the faithful.

‘Much ink has been spilled on how to optimize proper SP consumption?’ What did that mean? And why were all church prayers linked to spells? Had they been spells from the start and didn’t work because there were no Special Points or ‘magic’ to fuel them?

This raised an important question: did the System give prayers tangible powers, or was their power suppressed before the System came along? In the first case, it spoke volumes about the System’s ability to reshape reality. And in the second case… it implied the normal world Basil had lived in since birth was in an abnormal state.

“I guess these books will have to do,” Basil said. “I would rather have fiery swords, but God works in mysterious ways.”

“By giving you two old books?” Plato sneezed from the dust. “You should have converted to Buddhism.”

Basil forgave his cat’s blasphemy and registered the books in his inventory for later use. It could be a coincidence, but if prayers carried real magical power with the System’s arrival… then one of them could perhaps heal petrification.

“Is everything okay, Mister?” Rosemarine asked upon entering the cathedral’s hall. “Have you eaten well?”

“The only food I need right now is the bread and blood of Christ,” Basil half-joked. “I will be the Axe of Heaven. God wills it.”

“What is Christ, a monster?” Rosemarine pondered with childish innocence. “Can I eat them?”

“When do we take back the Holy Land?” Plato asked with a deadpan tone. Basil’s glare only amused him further. “Too soon?”

“Mock me all you want, Plato, but a force greater than any strength point possesses me now.” Basil pumped a fist with determination. His words boomed across the cathedral’s hall like a sermon. “Faith! Faith in humanity! Faith in our power to defeat the invaders! You say we should take back the Holy Land? I say we retake all the land, starting with this one—”

A Unity watcher suddenly entered the church through the broken window, interrupting Basil’s passionate speech.

When he heard the explosions, Bugsy knew his moment had come.

As ordered, the centimagma had retreated to the human hive’s outskirts so as not to foil the infiltration mission. He spent minutes mentally preparing himself for the epic fight that he knew would come. His tail flailed the pavement in trepidation.

The times when Bugsy would clumsily break trees and set grass on fire ended here and now. He would no longer lower his head in shame at his ineptitude. Today, he would prove his newfound strength and mighty combat prowess to the Boss.

“I’m proud of you, Bugsy,” the Boss would say while patting him on the head, right on the sweet spot behind the antennae. “I thus promote you to my new right-hand cat.”

“But I cannot betray Mister Plato!” Bugsy would reply, because he was modest. “He is like a brother to me!”

“You deserve to become the top pet, Bugsy,” Plato would reassure him. “You’ve worked so hard for it!”

All would fear the name of Bugsy Alphonse Venture.

I need a war cry, Bugsy thought as his tremorsense detected the party rush to his position and the rumbling steps of a colossal beast. You shall not pass… too simple… I have a hundred feet to kick your ass with? I am fire, I am death? Yes, yes, that’s badass, that’s me, that’s fearsome!

Bugsy moved in the middle of a lane full of abandoned cars. As the Boss, Plato, and Rosemarine emerged from around a street corner, the centimagma raised his head with pride.

“I am fire!” Bugsy exhaled flames through his fangs. “I am—”

“Retreat!” The Boss shouted. His breath was short, his expression one of utter panic. “Tactical retreat!”

“Mister!” Rosemarine struggled to catch up to the Boss because of her short vine-legs. “Wait for me!”

“Huh?” Bugsy asked in confusion, his momentum broken.

“Run, you idiot!” Plato snarled as he bolted past the centipede. “Run!”

A tide of metal poured out of the city after the party.

Bugsy had expected to fight a few watchers, a dozen at most. Instead a full swarm of flying orbs flew above the lane. They fired petrify-rays in all directions, the lasers failing to affect Bugsy due to the level difference.

“WE COME IN PEACE!” The swarm buzzed. “PETRIFICATION IS TEMPORARY! SUBMIT FOR YOUR OWN GOOD!”

I can take them! Bugsy tried to muster his courage. Witness me, Boss! Witness—

And then the bigger machine stepped into view, a colossus of steel carried by four legs each longer than Bugsy himself. The ground trembled when it walked and its cannon’s gears screeched upon pointing at the centimagma.

When Bugsy read the giant machine’s level, the great flame of his bravery petered out.

“[Agility Up]!” Never before did Bugsy activate his Perk so quickly. “[Agility Up]!”

The System empowered his hundred legs with new speed. The Boss and Rosemarine leaped on Bugsy’s back as the centimagma turned around and ran away. Only Plato managed to run faster than him on his own legs.

“THE UNITY IS NON-NEGOTIABLE!” The giant robot broadcasted while running after the party. Fiery light built up in its cannon. “THIS PLANET WILL BE PACIFIED!”

“De-level this, asshole!” The Boss materialized the Venom Bomb in his hand and threw it at the robots. The projectile exploded into a toxic purple cloud that spread through the lane. It failed to damage the robots, but reduced their visibility. A red ray fired through the smoke and melted the pavement to Bugsy’s left. The blast missed him, but only barely so.

“Faster, faster!” Plato shouted as the giant robot rushed out of the toxic cloud.

“I’ve got this!” Bugsy promised. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him. “I’ve got this!”

Bugsy Alphonse Venture believed he would become his party’s frontliner.

But in truth, he had been the getaway driver all along.