Apocalypse Tamer

Once upon a time, Basil Bohen had intended to work in pharmaceuticals.

The idea had formed in his mind early on. Since his family was too poor to buy him books or video games, he would often spend time in his school’s library to read magazines. One of them focused on science, and its pages had awakened an interest in biology and chemistry that never truly went away.

“Here, sir,” Basil said as he poured a red elixir down a sick man’s throat. A nurse was recording the results on an Ipad at the bedside. “That should help.”

“Thank you, young man,” the patient rasped. He was probably as old as René on his deathbed, with wrinkled skin and a kind smile. “I already feel better.”

“It’s nothing.” Basil held the old man’s hand to reassure him. He always had a soft spot for senior citizens. Most of them were starved for human warmth. “Just sleep and rest for now. The doctors will take care of you.”

“We will pass by in a few hours to check on your health, Mr. Demesmaeker,” the nurse promised with a smile. “Please do not smoke or drink until then.”

Oh, I healed a Belgian, Basil thought with an amused smile upon recognizing the name. May God forgive me.

The old man kindly waved at Basil as he and the nurse left him. Doctors moved from room to room like overworked ants. One almost hit Basil by accident in one of the clinic’s hallways, before apologizing profusely.

Basil was astonished that the French healthcare system still worked at all.

“I believe we can close the trial phase, Mr. Bohen,” the nurse said after reviewing her files. “Your potion has a one-hundred success rate so far.”

“Told you it would work.” After struggling to cure the new Covid variant with standard potions, Basil had found the solution in his Jekyll & Stein alchemical manual. The Van Helsing’s Blood Ministration potion made for an excellent remedy against the Disease ailment and it was relatively easy to manufacture.

Yes, the fact that it required fermented blood scared people at first, but it beat being sick in bed all day. The plentiful hostile monsters inhabiting the countryside would provide a near-limitless supply, and they could always find blood donors at worst…

“Mr. Bohen, would you mind if we made a copy of your crafting manual?” the nurse asked as she led him back to the reception desk. Vasi was waiting for him there under a glamor. “Our medical department would benefit from its distribution.”

“Sure.” Basil wondered if they would end up creating flesh golems. Jekyll & Stein included a few recipes to build them, though he lacked the Alchemist levels needed to do so himself. “I’ve also discovered a few bomb and potion formulas, if you need those.”

“Of course, we always welcome new options.” The nurse opened her status screen. “We’ll share our own medicine crafting recipes in return. We’ve discovered a few through trial and error.”

Nurse Lila Marieme shared 10 Recipes. You can check them in your Crafting subsystem.

Basil immediately did that. The list included formulas for Cold Resistance Potions, an improved version of his Green Medicine, and a Fertility Enhancer. He would keep that one a secret from Bugsy, so as not to give the centimagma any wrong ideas.

“The city council is currently developing a common crafting recipe database available to everyone,” said the nurse. “The army asked that you be granted access to it, Mr. Bohen. You won’t be able to use all the formulas within—not without leveling up in the right classes—but it will help in a pinch.”

“I would be thankful.” And a common crafting database for all Players was an incredible idea in general. “You know, a lifetime of watching apocalypse movies taught me civilization would collapse into a dog-eat-dog world. Instead, I’m in a city with universal healthcare.”

“You think too little of mankind, Mr. Bohen.” The nurse chuckled. “Civilizations have collapsed many times in the past, but we always picked up the pieces.”

Basil bade her goodbye with a lighter heart and then rejoined his girlfriend. “You look happy,” Vasi noted as she put her arm around his own. “I hope you didn’t play doctor and nurse behind my back.”

“Never,” Basil replied. “Though they offered me masks and a lab coat for cosplaying.”

“Oh?” Vasi grinned coyly. “Will you give me a private check-up, Doctor Bohen?”

If she wanted to play it that way, he would bite. “You will have to set an appointment if you want a thorough examination, Miss Yaga.”

“I see a window of opportunity.” Her hand brushed against his chest ever so slightly. “Bugsy is knocked out cold and your baby plant is sleeping in a greenhouse. My dear Shellgirl is busy trading with local merchants for new supplies…”

“And Plato?” Basil asked with a coy grin of his own. “Have you considered my cat’s well-being?”

“He is still sulking about sabertooth tigers.” His cat would never change. “Which means he won’t bother us. Will you take me on a date, Mr. Bohen? I would like to weigh my options a bit more before the operation.”

“But of course,” Basil replied softly. “Do you have a location in mind?”

“Yes.” Vasi grinned wickedly. “And since I’m the one who won the bodycount competition, you’ll pay for it.”

“Do your worst,” Basil replied defiantly. “I have sworn an oath, and I shall keep it.”

“So dramatic. Well then, let’s hit the bar.”

“The bar?” Basil’s enthusiasm immediately deflated. “I don’t drink alcohol.”

She laughed at him. “Then you’ll thank the gods for inventing non-alcoholic beverages. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Vasi all but dragged Basil outside the clinic, much to his annoyance.

As far as French cities went, Limoges was rather picturesque. The old center in which the clinic was located took inspiration from XVIIIth century architecture, with narrow, snow-covered streets and small brick houses. If anything, the buildings were the most normal part of the city.

Nothing screamed little French town like a giant sloth using street lights to jump from one roof to another.

The smilodon and mammoth that Basil’s party encountered outside the city were not an exception, but the norm. Megafauna-themed monsters could be seen in every corner of Limoges. Wooly rhinos pulled wagons full of supplies through the snow. Almost every adventurer party went shopping with a cave bear pet in tow–much to Vasi’s joy–and nearly all pet cats had shapeshifted into sabertooth tigers; not that dogs were left behind, as most had embraced their wolf ancestry. As Patrick had warned the Bohens, the city’s people had quickly tamed and befriended the local monsters.

Of course, the moose wasn’t among them. The moose was too powerful, too wild, to be bound by mortal hands.

What surprised Basil the most, however, was the occasional presence of humanoids other than humans in the city. He and Vasi passed by several shops managed by orcs, and one city watch patrol included a skeletal knight in full plate armor. Yet none of them disturbed the locals. They had become part of the landscape.

It surprised Basil that Vasi had decided to hide her true nature behind an illusion spell after seeing this. If a walking corpse wouldn’t disturb Limoges’ citizens, he doubted her horns would.

Vasi led him to a tavern whose outside walls were painted like a castle’s defenses and its door shaped like a drawbridge. The name ‘Bar Gayard’ was written above the door in an ancient medieval style. Basil could hear the sound of laughter coming from it. Clearly the city had voted against a confinement.

“I missed these places,” Vasi whispered. “We should dance later.”

“I’m not good at it,” Basil pointed out.

“I’ll teach you.” She pulled him past the doors and into the establishment. The tavern was surprisingly bigger than it looked from the outside, with dozens of wooden tables and enough space to house a hundred people within its walls. The owner, Patrick, worked to make cocktails for adventurers from behind a counter alongside an orc assistant. A waitress dressed like a medieval tavern wench took orders from parties of mages, gunslingers, and swordsmen.

The place had been specifically decorated to mimic a fantasy pub. Coats of arms and swords covered the walls, alongside stuffed head trophies of goblins, ogres, wyverns, and other creatures. The fur of a giant lion slightly smaller than Rosemarine made for a comfy carpet.

On a second thought, Basil might learn to appreciate the place. An establishment with so many trophies had to include a hunter’s lodge society of some kind, and he always liked those.

“Oi, Basil! Welcome!” Patrick waved a hand at the couple as they approached the counter, his eyes setting on Vasi. He seemed to recognize her, even with the glamor spell on. “Is that your witch girl?”

“Under disguise,” Vasi replied.

“You don’t have to wear one. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re a pretty open community.” Patrick whistled at the waitress. “VIP seats for these two!”

“Thank you, but I would rather not take unnecessary risks,” Vasi said as the bar’s staff brought the couple two stools to sit on. “I've had bad experiences in the past.”

Basil frowned. “What kind?”

“The witch hunter kind,” his girlfriend replied evasively as she claimed her seat. “I don’t want to talk about it now.”

“Sure, I won’t push it.” Basil sat close to the counter next to his girlfriend and quickly changed the subject. “I’m surprised you have both so many monsters around and a functioning community, Patrick. How did it happen?”

“Limoges’ dungeon produces megafauna monsters and the occasional undead,” Patrick explained. “But thankfully most of them are weak to Fire and the local glass industry produced a lot of Pyromancers. We killed the Boss in the early days and quickly stabilized the city.”

“Who is the new Boss now?” Basil asked.

“The mayor. And when he dies in his post, his replacement will take over the dungeon too. It’s a pretty good set-up.” The bartender put his hands on the counter. “What do I serve you?”

“Something sweet, please,” Vasi said.

“Milk,” Basil ordered with a stern expression. Like a real man.

So shocking was his command, so pure his resolve, that Patrick stared at him for a few seconds in silence for a few seconds.

“With ice,” Basil added.

“So…” the bartender cleared his throat, truly intimidated. Basil suddenly realized that Patrick was still wearing his wood mask indoors. Perhaps it helped to hide the fear. “A milkshake?”

“Milk,” Basil repeated, more firmly this time. “With ice.”

Patrick held his gaze for a moment, before folding before Basil’s greater willpower. The bartender went on to prepare the drinks without complaint.

“I do wonder why you haven’t made peace with goblins,” Vasi said. She had watched the whole scene with amusement. “I’ve seen orcs in the street, undead too… why not those little rascals too?”

“I’ve lost count at how many times we attempted to broker peace with goblin tribes.” Patrick snorted as he poured red syrup into a cup. “It never went well. There’s always an odd goblin out there that minds its own business, but 99.9 percent of them are hateful little pricks that either attack on sight or wait until your back is turned first. You can only get them to behave through intimidation, and even then they’re always looking out for a sign of weakness. I mean, they were literally programmed from birth to kill us. Most can’t help themselves.”

“We’ve met friendly goblins before,” Vasi pointed out. “An autopsy gremlin and a hobgoblin.”

“Who still ran away at the first sign of trouble rather than trying to help,” Basil replied cynically.

“Maybe evolved goblins become smart enough to realize there are other options to life than violence,” Patrick conceded. “But what are we supposed to do, wait for them to kill enough people until they grow a brain? By now we tell the critters to fuck off when they get too close to town, and then we open fire when they don’t take the hint. Few of them listen.”

Basil wondered how much nature and nurture influenced monsters. The System had spawned half his team, and although they behaved now, Bugsy had tried to kill him the first time they met and Rosemarine had a near-boundless appetite for violence. Would other members of their kind have listened and made peace with Basil?

He had witnessed a good example of the phenomenon with House Garden. Only a minority of his sentient vegetables had remained loyal to him, while the rest tried to kill their gardener right after their birth. The System definitively made monsters hostile by default; Limoges’ megafauna was well-behaved because they had been spawned by a Player-ran dungeon and thus naturally attuned to humans.

Basil wondered how cohabitation with wild monsters would progress over time. Humans domesticated dogs by breeding well-behaved wolves over multiple generations. Maybe a similar process would happen with monsters. The most aggressive ones would get themselves killed until only the friendlier ones remained.

“As for orcs,” Patrick continued. “They are weird and short-tempered sometimes, but they’re true to their word. Must have been because they came from another world first. We adopted most of them after the Incursion.”

Vasi’s eyes widened in dread. “Did they come from Outremonde?”

“Uh, no?” Patrick put ice in the cocktail. “They called their world Darkthorn or something like that.”

Vasi sighed in relief, much to Basil’s amusement. “Are orcs trouble in your world?” he asked his girlfriend.

“Some of them are… special.” Vasi shuddered, which made Basil quite curious. “Don’t ask.”

Patrick served Vasi a red, fruity cocktail. “Here, it’s on the house. For your good deeds.”

“And here I was looking for my boyfriend to pay for it all,” Vasi teased Basil. “What’s your Luck stat?”

“Astronomical,” Basil replied with a smile. “Since I’ve met you.”

Vasi laughed and blushed a little. “Good answer, handsome.”

“Aww, your cheeks are so red,” Basil teased her. Payback time. “It’s cute.”

“Don’t make me zap you.” Vasi sipped her cocktail, her eyes widening in joy at the taste. “I have to ask, what does Bartender do as a class? Besides making excellent drinks?”

“Thank you, lass,” Patrick replied. “It functions a lot like Alchemist, except I can only craft drinks and potions. My cocktail Perks let me boost their effects in return.”

“What kind of boost?” Basil asked. He wouldn’t take the class, but he was deeply curious.

“See for yourself.” Patrick poured ice, milk, and lemon juice into a glass cup and served it to Basil. It tasted strangely sweet in spite of the ingredients used.

[Milk Mojito] boosted your Strength and Vitality for two hours; your bones cannot be [Crippled] for that duration.

[All for One] has shared the effect with your team!

“A two hour buff for a glass of milk?” Basil smirked ear to ear. “Now I understand why taverns are adventurers’ favorite hangouts.”

“You should see our inn,” Patrick replied. “The owner, Marine, she’s a capped Innkeeper. Eight hours of sleep in her bed, and you recover from almost anything short of death. A cripple had his two legs grow back in the night. She’s never made so much money.”

“Why not use her to cure the plague then?” Vasi asked the simple question.

“We do. Unfortunately, her Perks only apply to her designated inn and its limited number of beds.”

A woman armored like a samurai and armed like a gunslinger called out to the bartender. “Patrick! Three Demon Mojitos and a Goblin Tequila please!”

“On it, sweetheart.” The bartender went to work while keeping up the conversation. “You know, Basil, you can make pretty good wine with a wyvern's blood and two babaus. Add a quarter of the weight in sugar once you’ve harvested the liquid, a little acid and yeast, and bam, you’re set. The wyvern blood makes it thick, and the babaus spice up the deal. I’m sure your party will love it.”

“Duly noted,” Basil said. “But I’ve got the meat cuisine covered. It’s the vegetables I’m struggling with.”

“You can hunt carrot titans and dempon kales north of the city. The former are usually level 19, but they’re solitary so you should have no problem killing them. The demon kales are harder to catch. They’re good at dodging and flying away.”

“What about the road to Paris?” Vasi asked wisely. “Anything we should be wary of?”

“The road to Orleans is relatively safe. We’re teaming up with Guilds from our neighboring cities to clean up the region.” The bartender half-mindedly tossed four drinks to the waitress, who instantly teleported to the samurai lady’s table. Neat. “But it’s complete chaos once you reach the Île-de-France. The Seine River has dried up, high-level undead are everywhere, and local parties have turned into bandits. Or at least that’s what I’ve heard.”

Basil scowled. As expected, Paris would prove to be their greatest challenge yet. “Did you happen to meet a man named Kalki passing through?”

“Leblanc’s staff already questioned us about him, and no, we haven’t.” Patrick shrugged off his shoulders. “If your guy can fly, then he probably went straight for Paris without stopping in-between.”

That made sense. Already going to Limoges was a detour on Basil’s part.

“Do you know anyone who could give us information on the city?” Vasi pushed on. “Perhaps a traveler could enlighten us on its situation.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a date,” Basil pointed out.

His girlfriend winked at him. “We have to make sure we’ll survive to the next one, no?”

When she put it that way…

“Mmm…” Patrick glanced at his patrons, his gaze stopping on a distant table. He raised his hand. “Elsa, Roxie! Get your asses over there!”

“We aren’t done drinking, P!” Basil recognized the voice as the samurai lady from before. “We’ll pay later!”

“Get your asses over there!” The bartender shouted louder.

“All right, sheesh…”

A minute later, the samurai approached the counter with a fellow woman. Basil took the opportunity to study them closely. Both were around his age range and clearly caucasians in spite of their Japanese-inspired clothes. The samurai girl’s armor was strapped to the brim with firearms, from arquebuses to a sword with a barrel. Her comrade was a pretty brunette dressed like some kind of barbarian, with wolf pelts and an oni mask hanging around her neck. She carried a naginata weapon strapped to her back.

Elsa Dupontin

Level 20 Humanoid (Berserker 17/Bard 3)

Party: BuzzBand.

Roxanne “Roxie” Leclair

Level 19 Humanoid (Samurai 5/ Gunslinger 5/Gunblade 9)

Party: BuzzBand.

“What’s up, P?” asked the samurai, ‘Roxanne.’ Her eyes widened in shock when she noticed Basil and Vasi. “Damn, level 35?”

“Woah, no way!” Her teammate whistled at the couple. “Did you guys eat a dragon or something?”

“It was closer to a snail with delusions of grandeur, but yes,” Basil deadpanned.

“Nice,” said the naginata wielder, ‘Elsa.’ Neither she nor her teammate seemed surprised by the snail part. “Any suggestions for newbies like us?”

“Don’t keep your head in the sand, because it might cost you something that you love.” Basil’s scowl deepened as he remembered his poor, murdered house. “Kill them all. Fire and brimstone.”

“I figure that’s where the Berserker levels come from?” Elsa asked with a sly grin. “I rampaged a few times myself.”

“Once, she threw a child at us while Berserk,” her teammates said with a deadpan expression. “He was ten.”

“One time!” Elsa complained. “One time!”

“Did he survive?” Basil asked, horrified. The confession reminded too much of his own misadventure with the Berserk ailment for comfort. “The boy?”

“Oh, yes he did. The brat’s class had insane Vitality. I think he even liked the flight course.” The samurai shrugged. “He and his dad kinda split from our group afterwards though, and I couldn’t blame them.”

“The name’s Elsa. Nice to meet you.” The berserker shook hands with Basil and Vasi, clearly eager to change the subject. “The doubter next to me is Roxie.”

“Basil Bohen,” Basil introduced himself. “And the princess next to me is called Vasi.”

“I forgot my crown in the carriage,” Vasi mused.

“Anyway, what’s up?” Roxanne asked Patrick. “Why did you call us, P?”

“These two’s party will leave for Paris tomorrow,” the bartender explained. “Do you have any pointers to give them?”

“Don’t,” the samurai said immediately, a scowl forming on her face. “You don’t wanna go there. We were lucky to make it out alive.”

Her teammate nodded. “Paris is a monster-infested ruin, and not the fun kind. I don’t recommend approaching it even with your high level.”

“Are you natives from the city?” Vasi asked cautiously.

“No, but we were in its suburbs when the world went crazy,” Elsa said. “Have you ever heard of the Japan Expo?”

“The anime convention?” Basil asked with a grin. “I used to go there before Covid confinments canceled it.”

“Wow, really?” Elsa gave Basil a gentle fist bump, and her teammate quickly did the same. The brotherhood bond of anime fanaticism united them. “So glad to meet a fellow weeb.”

“A weeb?” Vasi frowned. “What is that, a secret society?”

“It’s something like a cult and guilty pleasure,” Basil joked.

“Don’t feel guilty,” Roxie said with a faint smile. “All the hours spent watching Isekai anime and playing video games paid off big time. It’s half the reason why we made it out of Paris alive. That, and the katanas.”

“If you really want to know, we were an indie rock band before the whole System shitshow,” Elsa explained with a smirk. That explained the party’s name. “We were so happy to play for Japan Expo after the post-Covid reopening and then bam! The whole world turns into a manga!”

“The Seinen kind,” Roxie added with a sigh. “We didn’t even get legendary weapons for our troubles.”

“Seinen?” Vasi raised an eyebrow at her boyfriend. “I have the feeling you are all speaking in code.”

“I’ll explain later,” Basil reassured her. “Wasn’t the Japan Expo taking place in the Parc des Expos this year?”

“Yeah, it was supposed to,” Roxie confirmed. “And that’s why we’re still alive. We were in Paris’ periphery.”

“Most cities have one dungeon because they don’t have too many monuments,” her teammate said with a scowl. “Paris opened the apocalypse show with six of them.”

“Six?!” Basil choked in astonishment. One dungeon was trouble enough, but six on the first day meant a relentless barrage of monsters unleashed on an unprepared population.

“Yeah, you can imagine the disaster.” Elsa nodded sadly. “The Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, Versailles, Notre Dame, the UNESCO building… they all transformed into dungeons at once and their power immediately rebranded the place.”

Basil’s eyes widened at the mention of the UNESCO HQ, but he let the two finish their tale.

“The whole city’s unrecognizable, mate,” said Roxie. “The dungeons changed the geography and turned it into a new and improved Sahara desert. With mummies and scorpions and sphinxes…”

“As Roxie said, we were in the periphery so we had it less bad than people in the city center… but only barely so.” Her teammate sighed sadly. “We and other parties had to fight our way out of the Parc des Expos. Few made it out alive.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Vasi whispered with sincerity. “We’ve lost people too.”

Roxie looked away. “We were lucky. Our whole band made it to Limoges in one piece.”

“Are you really sure you want to go to Paris?” Elsa shook her head. “It’s suicide.”

“We have to,” Basil insisted. “We must rescue a friend.”

The two adventurers exchanged a silent glance, before acquiescing to their request. “Your loss, but I can respect the sentiment,” Roxie said. “What do you wanna know?”

“Our target is the UNESCO HQ,” Basil explained. “But really, any info will help.”

Considering the danger ahead, they should gather as much information as possible.

“The UNESCO building?” Elsa smiled sadly. “You’re too late. It’s already gone.”

Basil’s jaw clenched. “What do you mean, it’s gone?”

“You know the Louvre? The museum with the Joconde painting?” Elsa asked. Basil nodded in confirmation, recognizing the Joconde as the French term for the Mona Lisa. “It turned into an actual Egyptian pyramid dungeon. When the Incursion happened, it grew in power and… swallowed the UNESCO building? Not sure how to put it into words.”

“The dungeons fused,” her teammate cut in. “The Louvre Pyramid absorbed the UNESCO building into itself and started spawning more powerful monsters afterward. That’s probably why Pluto did it.”

“Pluto?” Vasi asked.

“The Boss of the Louvre Pyramid. He controls most of Paris except for the Eiffel Tower dungeon, since some psycho murderhobo cult managed to beat him to the prize.” Roxie scratched her cheek. “The Apocalypse Punks or something?”

“The Apocalypse Force, Roxie,” Elsa corrected. “Apocalypse Force.”

This is just getting better and better, Basil thought darkly. Pluto was the Roman name of the Greek god Hades, and considering that person targeted the UNESCO HQ, he was almost certainly Benjamin Leroy’s godlike avatar. At least our enemies are fighting each other as much as they target us.

His distaste must have shown on his face, for Elsa immediately picked up on his animosity. “You’ve met them?”

“We had that displeasure,” Vasi confirmed. “They are bad news.”

“No kidding.” Roxie snickered. “They kill everyone who isn’t part of their group. At least Pluto spares the kids he abducts.”

Basil clenched his empty glass so tightly that it shattered in his hands. Shards bounced off his hardy skin and showered the counter, much to his annoyance. “Sorry, Patrick.”

“It’s okay, I’m used to it.” Patrick grabbed the shards and they magically reformed into a complete glass. “Bartender Perk.”

“Neat,” Basil commented before turning his attention back to the Parisian party. “He’s abducting kids?”

“Yeah.” Elsa put her hand in her hair, her gaze distant. “His monsters kill all the humans they encounter, except for children under ten years of age. They capture and bring them to the Louvre Pyramid instead.”

“For what purpose?” Vasi asked with a dark look. “Does he intend to sacrifice them?”

“I don’t know,” Elsa said sorrowfully. “The few adventurers who managed to infiltrate the Pyramid and came back to tell the tale said the children were well-treated, but they couldn’t rescue anyone.”

Basil clenched his jaw as he remembered the information in Benjamin Leroy’s file. His daughter had died a little over seven years ago in a terrorist attack, so taking on the guise of a death god like Hades made sense if he intended to revive her. And if Hypathia was to be believed, then he administered a soul-harvesting device of some kind…

“Bartender?” Basil turned to Patrick. “Do you know if Hindus believe in an afterlife?”

“What does it have to do with abducted children?” Roxie asked with a frown.

“Everything,” Basil replied dryly.

“I think the Hindu mostly believe in reincarnation,” Patrick replied absentmindedly as he poured a drink, confirming Basil’s suspicions. “Like, you die and you’re reborn as somebody else.”

A man with power over souls and who had lost his daughter seven years ago was kidnapping any child within that age range.

What were the odds?