Apocalypse Tamer: A LitRPG Adventure: Chapter 13

Basil gave Shellgirl a tour of his basement.

The longer she examined his wares, the more her excitement grew. She inhaled and exhaled in shorter intervals. Her shell trembled in anticipation. Her slimy fingers softly touched potion bottles as if they contained liquid gold.

“You’ve got a big house with a lot of precious stuff.” Shellgirl rubbed her hands, her eyes burning with greed. “I’m digging it…”

If she asks me to marry her for the house, I’m throwing her out, Basil thought. He had to put the conversation back on track. “I can’t sell too many potions. I have a limited supply of raw material, and I still need to complete my lab.”

“A lab? You want to…” Shellgirl’s grin became downright frightening. “Scale-up your production?”

“This is getting disturbing,” Basil complained. “Tell me what items you want for the halberd and go.”

“Wait, wait!” Shellgirl corrected her expression until she looked normal again, or at least less frightful. “I have a proposal! Hey, how about we start a…a…”

After struggling to find the right word, the mimic retreated back into her shell. Basil waited patiently as he heard her flip the pages of an invisible book.

“Ah, here it is!” The clam snapped open to reveal Shellgirl’s bright smile. “A holistic international joint venture!”

“A business deal?” The proposal didn’t surprise Basil in the slightest. He expected her to try to sucker him on the profit part though.

“You make the products, I sell them, and we split the profits!” Shellgirl grinned wickedly. “I would say eighty percent for me, twenty for you is a fair price.”

I knew it. As a new merchant, Shellgirl was utterly predictable.

“How about the other way around?” Basil asked mirthfully.

“Hey, I’m taking all the risks there! I’m the one venturing into the world, chatting up customers, grinding it out!”

“But I’m the one covering the production expenses,” Basil pointed out. “And profit doesn’t interest me. I’m looking for tools to improve my team’s day-to-day life, not to accumulate money for its own sake.”

Shellgirl looked at Basil as if he had grown a second head. “You don’t want to get rich?”

“Never did, and I want it even less now that the world ended,” Basil replied with disdain. He already considered the lure of money an illusion getting in the way of happiness before the apocalypse and didn’t change his mind afterward. “What’s the point of being rich nowadays if you can’t trade money for anything? You didn’t even accept my currency.”

“Wealth isn’t about utility,” Shellgirl argued, “it’s about bragging rights!”

“Exactly. I don’t need a mountain of cash to feel happy and confident.”

His point flew over Shellgirl’s head.

“That’s perfect! For me!” She joined her hands, her fingers intertwined. “Then I have a counter-offer. You said you were looking for specific items? I can stash up to six items in my shell for now, which isn’t enough space to accumulate a hoard.”

Basil crossed his arms. “Go on.”

“I’ll stock the bounty of our joint venture in your basement warehouse. The company will lease you the items you need or find interesting, while I keep the money and profits! I can even look for specific stuff to obtain! How does that sound?”

Basil had mixed feelings about the proposal. On one hand, he needed medical supplies to find a cure to the petrification ailment, and Shellgirl’s trade trips would help him scout for information. On the other hand, regular contact with the outside world increased the risk of enemies discovering the house. Shellgirl didn’t strike him as particularly stealthy either.

Basil checked his Perks and confirmed the existence of a potential solution.

“I find the proposal agreeable under one condition.” Basil raised his index finger. “You must join my party.”

“Uh?” Shellgirl tensed up. “Why?”

“My Tamer Perks will kill you if my HP hits zero. That way you won’t be tempted to pull a fast one and lead monsters to my house’s location.”

Shellgirl’s smile faltered. “I don’t see how that’s a win for me. If you want this business relationship to be exclusive, you’ve got to make it worth my time.”

“My Tamer class will grant you stat boosts on level-ups and a unique Perk as long as you remain in my party,” Basil tempted her. “You get to keep both even if we split and go our separate ways. Consider them stock options.”

“Mmm…” Shellgirl considered the proposal for a moment. Then she retreated into her shell to read her business manual. “Stock-options…I see…so instead of a joint venture, we would merge our corporations and split the party’s shares?”

“Yes.” Basil tried to translate the arrangement into economic terms. “The party will cover your food and sleep expenses in the house, give you medical assistance, and a few other associate benefits.”

“If I leave, will I keep the money I made during our association?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s a deal!” Shellgirl emerged from her hideout and extended a hand at Basil. “Happy merger!”

Basil squeezed the merchant’s hand and slime squished between his fingers. He prayed that he wouldn’t regret this arrangement.

“Oh, oh, that’s great!” Shellgirl’s greedy grin grew wider. “Except the battle part. Can I trust you to take care of it?”

“No pretty freeloaders here,” Basil replied harshly. “If the house is attacked, you help defend it.”

“I understand the concept of defending private property, thank you very much. Rare monster parts sell for a hefty price, too.” Shellgirl rubbed her hands. “Let’s see what you’ve got, partner.”

Basil was willing to trade away the remains of defeated monsters like Ogremoche, spinotter furs, and extra potions. He made a list of items he was looking for in exchange: tools to build an alchemy lab in his basement, modern medicine to craft potions, a cure for the petrification ailment, and spellbooks to study.

True to her word, Shellgirl surrendered the halberd and presented him with other collected items: a cute pink ribbon, a large pearl the size of a fist, a vial of anabolic steroids, a business book, and one very precious chest.

Basil gasped when he recognized the last item. Lined with gold and cone-shaped, the chest was topped by a small cross. A picture of the Virgin Mary visiting a woman appeared on the front.

“You like this shiny?” Shellgirl patted the cross at the chest’s top. “I took it with me when I left my home dungeon!”

“It’s the reliquary of Saint Bernadette, Lourdes’ patron!” Basil and René had seen it when they last visited Lourdes. He attempted to analyze it, but the System denied him.

Your Intelligence stat is insufficient to analyze this object.

“Fuck you!” Basil yelled at the screen.

“Not for free.” Shellgirl rubbed her fingers. “And you must bring your own equipment.”

“Argh, forget it.” Basil set the reliquary aside. He simply couldn’t trade something so precious.

Lourdes was well-known among Catholics for the supposedly miraculous properties of its waters. Many pilgrims visited its spring and prayed for a cure. Considering how the System now attributed magical properties to prayers and Saint Bernadette was the one who identified the miraculous waters, the reliquary might become incredibly useful in the near future.

After setting Saint Bernadette’s remains aside, Basil glanced at the other items, particularly the ribbon.

Rosemarine would look pretty with it. As for the rest, Shellgirl held the pearl and book close to her chest. “These ones aren’t for lease! Mine, mine, mine!”

Basil gave the book a cursory glance anyway.

How unsurprising.

“You can borrow better business books from my library,” Basil said.

“Oh?” Shellgirl looked at him with a curious expression. “You sought to invest in yourself too?”

“Sort of. I planned to open an online pharmacy business at one point, but it didn’t pan out.”

“I’ve read failure is the best teacher,” Shellgirl replied with a grin. “You need to adopt a wealthy mindset if you want to improve.”

Basil shuddered. He had to take the self-help booklets out of the library before she could read them.

The party split the next day after Basil enjoyed a few hours of sleep. Shellgirl leaped into the river with new items to sell, promising to return by the evening. Basil sent Bugsy into the forest to chop trees for the new door; he only had to pick them up where they fell. And Plato went to hunt birds in the forest like the feline serial killer he was.

Which left Basil alone with Rosemarine to expand the garden. With the greenhouse full and too many new mouths to feed, they needed to prepare a new plot of land next to the house for sowing.

“Here you go, my dear.” Basil finished putting the pink ribbon around Rosemarine’s neck. “Is it too tight?”

“How do I look, Mr. Who-Feeds-Me?” Rosemarine asked, her ribbon jiggling when she turned her head. Acidic saliva dripped down her sharp teeth and onto the grass.

Aww, she looked adorable!

“You’re perfect, my dear,” Basil said before handing her a small bag of seeds. “Now, I need you to sow these tiny babies after Daddy Bohen labors the ground with his hoe. Each seed category must stay in its allocated plot.”

“Can I spray them with my pollen to make them healthier, Mister?” Rosemarine asked with enthusiasm. “Can I feed them the blood and guts of our enemies too?”

Aww, she was such a caring greenhand! “Baby steps, Rosemarine.”

Basil unfolded his newest crafting discovery: a brown bag full of red fertilizer, obtained by combining a normal brand with Shellgirl’s anabolic steroids. According to the System, this ‘power nutrient’ would buff up the stats of all plants exposed to it. Basil hoped that it would hasten the growth of the seeds enough for an early harvest.

I missed gardening. Basil plowed the field with his hoe under the faint morning light. Rosemarine dutifully planted the seeds in his wake, spraying the ground with fertilizer and pollen alike. A simple, uncomplicated life.

The System had ruined Basil’s daily routine and forced him to deal with crisis after crisis. Megabug, the Unity, Shellgirl…each time he thought he could find a degree of normalcy in a world gone mad, a new problem arose to ruin his hopes.

Well, no more! Basil had planned the perfect post-apocalyptic routine! He would wake up at eleven o’clock, do house chores before his meal, study holy books in the afternoon, dine with his pets, and finally go to sleep after a TV or video game run. Eventually, he would find a cure for petrification, the French army would repel the Unity, and Basil could go back to paying his taxes without worrying about the future.

A simple plan for a quiet life.

“Mister?” Rosemarine’s voice grew worried. “Mister?”

I shouldn’t tempt fate like that, Basil told himself. He glanced at the plowed rows of the garden. The earth trembled as dog-sized creatures emerged from underground to embrace the sunlight. It never goes well.

Basil didn’t know whether he should blame Rosemarine’s pollen or the power nutrient. Perhaps it was the combination of both on top of the dungeon’s leftover radiation. Whatever the case, the results were nothing short of spectacular.

A dog-sized pumpkin was the first to rise out of the earth. It let out a fearsome cry with its maw and unleashed a burst of flames with its burning eyes. Fanged tomatoes emerged from the garden after it, followed by onions with spider legs, tiny humanoid beans, and strawberries with frightening eyes all over their skin.

Rosemarine’s seeds bloomed by the dozens into tiny newborn monsters. The cacophony of their screams made Basil wince. Yet the sight filled him with perverse satisfaction. His experiment had succeeded beyond his wildest dreams.

“Can I adopt them, Mister?” Rosemarine asked, hectic with joy. “We will raise a plant army and eat the world!”

“I’ve made something better than a monster flower hedge.” Basil smirked in triumph. “A self-defending kitchen garde—argh!”

A fanged tomato leaped at his face with a hungry roar. Basil swung his hoe on instinct and sent the creature flying into the house’s fence. A pumpkin monster followed by trying to bite his ankle and received a kick to the teeth for its trouble.

Basil’s joy at raising a vegetable army proved short-lived. The monsters snapped their fangs at him, and some even salivated with hunger.

“No eating the Mister!” Rosemarine roared, her cute little voice turning from concerned to angry. “Bad seeds! Bad seeds!”

“I am your creator!” Basil shouted to his wayward vegetables. “You must obey me! Submit, and I shall water you each morning!”

The System translated his words to the rabble, and some of them listened. A few of the vegetables broke ranks to join Rosemarine, the plants forming a defensive barrier around Basil.

Alas, most of the newborn monsters refused to bow and leaped at the loyalists with murderous intent.

“Is this a revolt?” Basil ground his teeth. “I prefer meat first and foremost…”

He swung his hoe and baptized it in pumpkin blood.

“But I know vegan recipes.”

After he wandered deeper and deeper into the woods with nothing to show for it, Plato realized that he had done it.

He had slain all the forest’s bird monsters.

“Wow, I didn’t think the day would come.” Plato sat in the shadow of a tree in disappointment. “I feel empty inside.”

The forest was still teeming with critters like rats, mice, and squirrels but…killing them felt different. Amusing, but not as pleasurable as watching the light go out of a bird’s eyes. Nothing could beat a close-up murder in intimacy, especially when the target didn’t see the fatal pounce coming.

“How am I supposed to contribute now?” Plato muttered to himself. These exercises were training for hunts and battles, to bring meat to the kitchen table, and to make his party stronger by shoring up experience.

Plato understood that as a pampered cat, he was mostly a burden for Basil. His owner tapped into his food reserves for his sake, treated him when he was sick, and removed parasites from his fur when he came back with ticks.

Rosemarine healed wounds with her pollen, and Bugsy contributed like a work animal, but the only things Plato was good at were hunting and reconnaissance. With no monster left in the forest, what purpose did he serve?

Plato knew Basil would never consider him a burden in his mind, but his cat pride wouldn’t let him act like a…like a human NEET!

I could always scout the city’s outskirts and snatch boxes of medicine. Plato picked up the distant sound of trees falling down to earth. Bugsy sure can’t approach the place undetected.

Plato’s amusement morphed into concern. They were far from the house. Why would Bugsy travel so deep into the forest to chop wood? He could pick trees by stepping over the fence.

The rumbling noise grew closer.

Realizing the danger, Plato hid in the tall grasses. His eyesight was terrible, but his ears picked words spoken aloud, and his nose smelled steel in the wind.

“Are you kidding me?” Plato whispered, half in fear and half in disbelief. An enormous shadow walked between the trees, causing some to fall with each step. “Damn it.”

“TARGET UNDETECTED!” The gearsman’s voice boomed across the forest. A group of watchers flew between the trees to patrol the area around their larger brethren. “MOVING ON TO A NEW SEARCH ZONE!”

After making sure the robots wouldn’t see him, Plato rushed in the house’s direction as fast as his tiny legs could carry him.