Apocalypse Tamer

It was one thing to imagine the darkest possible scenario, and another to have it confirmed beyond doubts.

“A… prison for souls?” Neria looked up at the neurotower, her face now pale white. “This server is… a prison for souls?”

“Yes,” Walter confirmed with clinical detachment. He didn’t sound horrified, or even surprised; merely disappointed. If anything, Basil found his utter lack of feelings creepier than all of Apollyon’s threats. “This device’s primary purpose is to act as a spiritual magnet, capturing souls upon death before they can reach their proper resting place and then distributing them inside a wider network. All put together, these steel towers function as a spiritual engine of global proportions.”

Walter’s elaborate terms couldn’t disguise the simple truth underneath.

“They use dead people as magical fuel,” Basil spat in disgust. “This is where the experience points come from, isn’t it?”

“And far more.” Walter raised his hand and summoned an illusion in the palm of his hand. The picture of a hydraulic fountain mechanism appeared in a puff of smoke. “Imagine a machine that is hermetically closed from the outside world. It is made of three parts: a basin, a water reservoir, and a container full of air. All three of them are connected by pipes, but nothing gets in and nothing gets out. No water ever is spilled. Do you follow me so far?”

“You’re describing Heron’s Fountain, aren’t you?” Basil guessed. He had learned about it in his chemistry class. “One of the first hydraulic machine.”

“You are well-learned, Basil.” Walter nodded slowly. “In this system, the water from the basin descends into the air supply. The resulting pressure is transmitted by the air to pipes into the water reservoir, which then pushes the liquid up into the basin. The cycle then repeats itself.”

“You are describing a perpetual-motion machine,” Vasi noted.

“No such thing exists,” Basil pointed out. “Even in a hermetic container, some energy is always lost through friction.”

“You are both correct in a way,” Walter said with a calm tone. Basil could tell he enjoyed playing the role of the teacher. “What I described is an ideal state of perpetual motion, but entropy causes a slight loss of power with each cycle. No matter how optimized a system is, the water will eventually stop moving.”

“System?” Major Elissalde squinted. She had listened to the explanation in silence so far, but she had quickly deduced where the demonstration would lead them. “I assume you chose the word intentionally, Mr. Tye?”

“Indeed,” Walter confirmed. “In very simple terms, my world’s System and yours are a machine, magic is the energy generated to produce motion–”

“And the water is made of harvested children’s souls,” Hagen cut in. “The ultimate solution to the child support conundrum.”

“Please, my friend, do not interrupt me.” Walter cleared his throat. “Now, souls are like spiritual batteries. They build up power in the form of thoughts, memories, beliefs, emotions… Anything capable of sentience, of self-awareness, has a soul. Humans, animals, dragons… even some plants and machines. As a rule, anything that can gain levels and benefit from a System has a soul.”

This checked with what Hypathia had told them, but Basil was starting to see new implications. Trees on the road didn’t have levels, but even the smallest animal like Plato had shown the ability to gain experience. Every last one of them had a soul and feelings, even before the Trimurti System’s arrival.

To his own sorrow, Basil was starting to wonder if vegetarians might have had a point…

“What about the afterlife?” he asked. If souls and angels existed, then certainly Heaven and Hell did. “Is there an afterlife?”

Walter’s answer didn’t satisfy him. “I suppose it depends.”

“On what?” Neria asked dryly. The Major was clearly growing more and more uncomfortable with the discussion.

“On the world,” Walter replied with a shrug. “Upon death, my world’s System transfers a soul to an afterlife where their accumulated power is slowly drained from them over a long period of time. Thoughts, memories, everything that made the person an individual are stripped clean like flesh from bones. The harvested power fuels the System, and the freshly blank soul is then reincarnated in a new body to repeat the cycle anew. Another world’s System might skip the afterlife step and move straight to the reincarnation phase, whereas others might follow a different set of rules. There is no universal answer.”

“Makes sense,” Vasi said. “My world of Outremonde has multiple afterlives, depending on which god a dead soul worshiped in life.”

A flash of distaste appeared on Walter’s face, but the necromancer quickly regained his composure. His disdain for deities showed itself once again.

“Is that why demons are bargaining for human souls?” Basil asked, trying to see how this new information fit into his belief system. It couldn’t be all wrong.

“Yes,” Walter confirmed with a nod. “Souls accumulate spiritual power, so many beings try to skim a few for their own personal gain. But their individual activities pale in front of a System’s harvest of death.”

“All right.” Major Elissalde opened her mouth, and then closed it before she could formulate her sentence. “All right…”

“Neria?” Basil asked in concern. “Are you okay?”

“This is… this is a lot to take in.” Neria gathered her breath, exhaled, and then regained her composure. “So… the dungeons, the landscape changing, the monsters… it’s all made possible through death.”

“Yes,” Walter said bluntly.

Basil had wondered how crafting processes could violate the laws of conservation of mass. He had his answer now. They didn’t: they simply drew energy and mass from magic produced by the neurotowers.

Even the mere act of crafting a potion required a dead man’s suffering.

“Then why all the destruction?” Neria asked with a scowl. “Sixty million people die each year, more than a hundred thousand each day. Shouldn’t that be enough?”

“A System often requires a periodic influx of power to keep functioning in the short-term, sometimes more than it can gain through age’s toil.” Walter’s illusory mechanism showed water slowing down inside the reservoir due to a lack of pressure. A sudden influx of air and water from the outside restarting the mechanism. “My world’s Fate System regulated itself in a very simple way; by incentivizing war.”

Basil clenched his jaw in frustration. “What better way to encourage murder than by rewarding it with more power, eh?”

“But what about quests?” Vasi asked with a frown. “You can gain experience from them without killing anyone.”

“Not all deaths result from murder,” Walter pointed out. “People die all the time from old age, accidents, diseases… their accumulated power is released without a killer to claim experience, so the System harvests most of it and distributes a portion through quests. This creates a form of balance and prevents the most murderous of mortals from wiping out everyone else. Eventually, they will find someone who can fight back.”

Which allowed populations to recover and maintain the cycle of reincarnation.

“People can gain levels in my world without killing anyone,” Vasi said. “I’ve heard that an immortal farmer reached level sixty simply by toiling every day for centuries. This invalidates your theory.”

“As I’ve said before, all Systems are different.” Walter closed his hand and the illusion vanished. “It’s possible your universe has a large enough population and enough excess energy that it doesn’t need constant conflict to function like mine does. Perhaps it generates natural disasters instead, or takes a more long-term approach to cultivating souls. I cannot tell without further research.”

Basil meditated on this new information. It completed what he had learned before and somewhat confirmed his worst assumptions… but there was one big unanswered question Walter hadn’t addressed yet.

“Where do they come from?” Basil asked. “The souls?”

Walter smiled in response. “Very good, my friend. You’re on the right track.”

Somehow his praise felt deadlier than his scorn.

“Oh, I see.” Vasi nodded to herself. She had figured it out too. “This entire mechanism relies on souls being recycled so they can keep accumulating power, but the original ones had to come from somewhere.”

“This is the great question to which I do not have an answer yet,” Walter admitted. “No one knows where souls come from. I’ve been investigating this mystery for many years, but the source still eludes me.”

“It’s why we investigated your world in the first place,” Hagen said.

Walter nodded in confirmation. “You see… I have been aware of your Earth for many, many years. I couldn’t access it directly until the Trimurti System, but it’s not the first time visitors from your realm visited mine.”

Vasi raised an eyebrow in confusion. “I thought you couldn’t travel to another world without a portal?”

“Not physically,” Walter countered. “I’ve told you that my System caused phenomena similar to your Incursions. Nine worlds were connected by the same System and periodically forced to merge to generate conflicts. Yet the number of souls in each one remained the same. Since entropy caused some energy loss anyway, the cosmic machinery of my universe found a way to patch things up; by importing souls from another place.”

Basil groaned and put a palm on his face. “Don’t tell me–”

“I’m afraid so,” Walter said with a sigh. “One day, mages found a special summoning spell allowing humans from a distant realm to reincarnate in ours as would-be heroes.”

Not only did Basil’s world now follow video game rules, but it also took inspiration from Isekai manga. Great, just great.

“And they were unbearably full of themselves too,” Hagen mused at his master’s side. “They died like flies, mostly because we killed them on sight.”

“You are harsh, Hagen,” Walter replied with a sinister chuckle. “It was done in self-defense, and only a handful of them.”

“A handful?” The dullahan laughed. “We have an attic filled with their weapons.”

“They were all idiots,” Walter told his disturbed customers. “Sometimes, I wish I had researched a spell to expel them back to your Earth.”

“Can we move on, please?” Basil asked with a shudder, and Major Elissalde fidgeted in place.

“Gladly,” Walter said with a cold smile. “Summoning individuals from your Earth provided infrequent boosts of power to counter entropy. My world’s Fate System was exceptionally stable and resource efficient, so it never needed to import more than a dozen new souls each century. The wheel of reincarnation was meant to turn forever, with only a few minor adjustments each time it stumbled on an issue.”

“But that’s not the case with Earth,” Neria whispered, her expression grim. “Hundreds of invaders entered the Dax portal alone.”

“The Systems’ goals differ, and thus the methods used too,” Vasi guessed.

“My world’s Fate System was meant to bring long-lasting stability at all costs,” Walter said with a hint of scorn. “Your Trimurti System isn’t meant to save anyone nor last long. It is not a perpetual motion machine, but a god’s cradle.

A cradle. The word brought Basil back to the ISS video, and the giant fingers holding the world in the palm of a colossal hand… “Is that why the Earth and the moon were sealed shut?” he asked. “To better capture the souls within?”

“Yes,” Walter confirmed. “If your planet is hermetically closed from the rest of the universe, then the Trimurti System has a much easier time managing the magical energy within it. The smaller the space, the easier it is to recycle the dead spirits trapped inside.”

Basil’s blood froze in his veins. Neria had been mistaken. The neurotowers weren’t a prison for souls; the entire world had become one.

Basil glanced at the server, a chill running down his spine. If he were to die now, no heavenly reward nor infernal torment would await him. His spirit would be trapped inside this vile machine, drained of thoughts and individuality, and then released back into an unsuspecting vessel.

Wait a second…

Walter said anything with levels had a soul.

“What about monsters?” Basil asked, a dark thought forming into his mind. “The dungeons materialized them from nothing, and they can gain levels. Where did their souls come from?”

Walter locked eyes with him.

“Your friend said it best, Basil,” he said with disturbing serenity. “A hundred thousand a day.”

Basil’s fists tightened. He glanced at his allies and watched their expressions turn into scowls as they came to the same, terrible conclusion.

“Sixty million humans a year.” Neria shook her head as the magnitude of Dismaker Labs’ crime dawned upon her. “Two hundred million land animals were slaughtered each day before the apocalypse. Eighty billion a year. Now add all the wildlife, the fish, the birds and the bugs… a single day would have been enough.”

If the neurotowers initiated a day before the System’s activation, then it had accumulated more than enough souls and magic to flood the world with armies. Millions more died within the first hours, creating a self-sustaining cycle of destruction.

Monsters were reincarnated humans and animals.

This was why they were driven to kill on sight on instinct. The more they slew, the greater their numbers grew. Bugsy, Shellgirl, and Rosemarine didn’t remember anything before their birth, but inside them dwelled the resting place of an older person.

“These… these fiends…” Basil trembled with rage. “How dare…”

“Basil–” Vasi started, but he cut her off before she could finish.

“It wasn’t enough for Dismaker Labs to kill so many people.” Basil’s fists clenched so hard that his nails sank in his skin. “They had to transform their victims into new tormentors next.”

Vasi put a hand on his shoulder in comfort, but wisely didn’t say a word. She knew nothing she would say would make it better.

“Not even these measures suffice, I’m afraid,” Walter said. His voice had taken on a softer tone, though Basil couldn’t tell if he was sincere. “Materializing a newborn monster requires magical energy proportional to its level, and all individuals need an exponential amount of experience to keep getting stronger. Your Trimurti System cannot function without throwing an ever-increasing amount of sacrifices into the grinder.”

“The Incursions,” Neria whispered. “Earth’s population isn’t enough.”

“It’s a feedback loop,” Vasi guessed. “The Trimurti System uses energy to create portals that will attract outsiders, whose death will generate more power to create more portals.”

“Exactly,” Walter confirmed with a nod. “Stronger warriors and terrible beasts with high levels and powerful souls are invited to participate in the competition. The magic used in opening pathways to their world is quickly covered by the return on investment, but it’s never enough. The escalation will only end when an Overgod is selected.”

“But what then?” Basil asked with a scowl. “You said it yourself, the Trimurti System is designed to make the first person to reach level 100 a deity. What will happen once it fulfills its goal?”

Walter marked a short pause before answering. That wasn’t a good sign.

“I do not know,” the necromancer admitted. “At best, the Trimurti System will shut down and your Earth will be returned to its proper place. At worst… at worst, your world will have outlived its usefulness and crumble to dust.”

Somehow, Basil couldn’t bring himself to expect the best from Dismaker Labs. And neither did anyone else in the room.

“How do we destroy them all?” Major Elissalde pointed at the neurotower. “This should return Earth to its former state, shouldn’t it?”

To Basil’s surprise, Walter shook his head. “I am not certain that would be a good thing for your planet at this point.”

“Why is that?” Neria asked with a frown. “If the System requires souls to function and the servers harvest them, then destroying them should bring down the entire infrastructure.”

“Yes, but that’s the problem,” Walter replied. “The Trimurti System has become an integral rule of your reality, like gravity or magnetism. There is no guarantee your planet will be returned to its proper place if it is disabled by force. In fact, it’s possible the Trimurti System is the only thing keeping your unstable pocket universe from collapsing.”

Or from being crushed inside Shiva’s palm.

“Destroying a few dungeons would delay the Incursion process without meaningfully disrupting the entire network,” Walter explained. “But destroying too many neurotowers might cause a general failure with unknown consequences.”

“So what?” Major Elissalde frowned and crossed her arms. “You suggest that we just accept it?”

“There’s another solution,” Vasi pointed out. “We can track down those who brought the Trimurti System to Earth in the first place. Perhaps they know a way to reverse the process.”

Basil nodded in agreement. Benjamin Leroy had been Dismaker Labs’ CTO. His understanding of neurotowers was probably second only to Maxwell, and Hypathia also said that he managed a subsystem related to harvested souls. He might be the key to solving the Trimurti System problem.

If his ‘teammates’ wouldn’t have him killed first.

“How do the Trimurti fit into this?” Basil asked. “Brahma, Kalki, Shiva? Are they related to the essences we collected?”

“The three members of the Trimurti were summoned to serve as the System’s administrators, maintain its integrity, and probably manage the flow of souls,” Walter said. “Whether consciously or not. Killing one of their avatars won’t affect them personally, but it will disrupt the Trimurti System beyond recovery.”

This confirmed it then. Kalki’s death would disrupt the world’s precarious balance, summon Shiva and spell disaster for everyone.

“As for essences, they serve an unrelated purpose,” Walter countered. “Unlike the likes of the Trimurti, who are power incarnate, lesser deities are spiritual entities fueled by the thoughts and beliefs of mortals. They require prayers, worship, and magic to survive. This makes them infinitely malleable, like clay. By infusing themselves with a deity’s essence, your foes gained power beyond their ken while keeping their original soul and thus, their ability to level up.”

“So it was just a method for the Board to secure an advantage in the competition?” Vasi squinted. “An ace in the hole?”

“A cheat,” Basil grumbled. “They did expect to face the Horsemen of the Apocalypse down the line.”

“Well, now they’re ours at least,” Vasi replied. “Do you want them, Walter?”

“No.” The shopkeeper shook his head. “It would be better for you to keep them.”

“We already have too many of them stashed away,” Hagen added.

“That too.” Walter chuckled darkly. “Do not misunderstand me, my friends. These essences have great value and I would gladly trade them for artifacts, but they stay with you because they chose to. The essences could easily return to their home plane on their own, yet they do not.”

“They want to take revenge on the Board,” Basil guessed.

“Most likely,” Walter conceded. “That, or they truly want to assist you in your quest. A few months or years are a blink in a god’s eyes. I suggest either giving them to a trusted ally or infusing a weapon with their power. The former more than the latter. Weapons can be stolen or broken, but power stays with you forever.”

Or until death at least. Basil wasn’t certain whether his cat or halberd would benefit most from a godly essence, but he wouldn’t make the decision alone. He would discuss the matter with his party first.

“I wish I could help more,” Walter said with a soft tone. “But this technology is beyond anything I have seen yet. Only its creators will help you understand it further.”

“You could help more,” Basil pointed out. “You could lend us some of your weapons or artifacts. They would make a real difference.”

Walter smiled, but behind the lips there were teeth.

“I like you, Basil.” It might even have been genuine. “But I am a merchant, not a charity. I do not give or take, I trade.”

As expected, even his advice had a hidden price tag. Basil appreciated the necromancer’s wisdom and intel, but he was under no illusion about the man’s character. Walter Tye wouldn’t blink twice at Earth’s destruction. It was but one world among many, and he supplied them all equally.

“Still, you are all valued customers,” Walter declared. “I’m willing to infuse your collected essences into tools of your choosing for free, and I will gladly trade you weapons in return for your technology. Your machines’ ability to manipulate souls through artificial methods fascinate me.”

“Thank you,” Neria said without really meaning it. She understood that begging and haggling wouldn’t work with this kind of otherworldly capitalist. “We will be taking back the neurotower, if you no longer have any use for it.”

Walter agreed to return the device after a few days, after which the group decided to separate. The shopkeeper returned to work behind his counter under his dullahan’s watch, while Basil discussed how to proceed next with Neria and Vasi.

“It doesn’t change much,” his girlfriend said. “Our objectives remain the same.”

“Yeah,” Basil replied with a nod. This new information contextualized their situation, but in the end, they still needed to find Kalki and members of Dismaker Labs’ board for answers. “We need to capture Pluto alive.”

“I’ll… I’ll report to the general and secure weapons for you.” Neria chewed her lower lip. “It’s….”

“Major?” Basil asked with a frown.

“Basil, I…” The former policewoman shook her head. She had managed to keep a façade of professional composure so far, but the recent revelations clearly shook her to her core. “Is it terrible that I feel dead inside?”

“It’s natural,” Basil admitted. He felt the same. “Nothing surprises me anymore.”

“It’s just… I’ve always thought that souls didn’t exist. That there was nothing after death. I’m… I’m glad not all of me will vanish… but I’ve watched so many friends die, and to imagine them imprisoned in a cold metal shell…” Neria looked away, avoiding Basil’s gaze. “It mortifies me.”

“We will free them,” Vasi reassured her kindly. “There has to be a way to disable the neurotowers and return your world to normal. We will find a solution.”

Neria nodded slowly, though Basil could tell she didn’t truly believe it.

Faith was the only crutch that remained when all else had failed.