Apocalypse Tamer: A LitRPG Adventure: Chapter 33

One for All worked exactly as advertised. Basil triggered the Perk after storing the campervan in the inventory and the party found themselves back at the house’s entrance in a flash of red light.

And only the party.

Basil was holding Vasi’s hand when he activated his Perk, but she didn’t teleport with them. The witch returned to the house on her flying broomstick around half an hour later, very much annoyed.

“I swear I didn’t know,” Basil promised her as he and Shellgirl stuffed sliced triceratops steaks into the freezer. The others, Rosemarine in particular, had left to meet up with the elves and drag Steamslime’s shell to the house. “You aren’t mad?”

“I don’t blame you,” Vasi replied, although there was an edge to her voice. “But your Perk suffers from a serious oversight.”

“Oh, I know a workaround!” Shellgirl snapped her fingers. “Next time, you can store the campervan in your inventory with Vasi inside!”

“I’ve never tried to store my car in the inventory when it had living passengers,” Basil said. Shellgirl’s idea intrigued him, but he didn’t feel comfortable testing her theory on a friend. He decided he’d stuff the trunk with a gagged goblin, mafia-style, and store the campervan. “If they survive the trip, they could describe how the inventory looks from the inside.”

“I would like to learn where items go as well, but I’ll pass on the testing phase.” Vasi glanced at the dinosaur pieces. “How about you give me a cut as an apology for leaving me stranded?”

“Sure,” Basil replied. Vasi had done him many services so he didn’t mind sharing with her. By now she was almost a part-time member of his party. “But I’ll keep the thunderbird feathers and ankylosaurus armor for myself.”

“What do you intend to do with them?”

“My Slaughterer Perk prevents me from wearing damage-reducing armor,” Basil explained. “If I do, I’ll lose access to my Berserker abilities…with a few exceptions.”

“Let me guess,” Vasi said. “You won’t lose your Perks if you wear a monster’s skin like a barbarian?”

“Yes, and since I’ve seen thunderbirds feathers absorb electricity…” Basil grinned wickedly. “No more lightning weakness.”

“You should ask Orcdad and Orcmom for help,” Shellgirl suggested. “They make pretty good clothes from fur and scales.”

“I might,” Basil agreed as he put the last steak on ice. With today’s spoils safely in storage, they were ready for the big trip. “Vasi, we can leave when you want.”

“I can’t wait.” Shellgirl pumped her fist. “I’ll finally meet Big Business!”

“Since you asked so nicely.” Vasi took her hat, put a hand inside, and brought a small, thumb-sized crystal skull out of it. “Prepare yourself. Your life is about to get wild…or wilder.”

Basil shrugged. Little could surprise him after watching the world end and fighting a dragon-snail.

The crystal skull shone with a purple glow. Ghostly lights filled its eye-sockets and the teeth morphed into the shape of a ghastly, skeletal grin. Darkness oozed from the device to swallow the kitchen in the blink of an eye. A chilling cold sank its claws into Basil’s bones, and his head hurt like hell as a screen flashed before his eyes.

The shadows receded before the faint light of candles. It took a few seconds for Basil’s eyes to adjust to the new luminosity and the smell of dust in the air.

“Welcome,” Vasi said. “To the shop between worlds.”

It was…surprisingly small.

Basil had expected a vast magical supermarket bustling with wares, not a single floor antiquarian shop. It couldn’t be bigger than his own house, with a chandelier and candelabras to provide a modicum of light. The left-wing showcased shelves full of books and grimoires, while the right contained rows of alchemical wares, from potions to athanors and even a metal automaton.

At the shop’s center, glass-top display cases featured a tasteful variety of weapons, accessories, amulets, shields, armors, dragon skulls, and other items. The crystalized statues of a crying warrior woman embracing an armored man—a sibling or relative from their similar faces—occupied the gallery’s center. That piece alone among the items didn’t display a price tag, only its name: The Fool Princess and the Mad Prince. A headless black knight’s armor stood next to the gallery, wielding a shield in one hand and a dark flail in the other.

The shopkeeper was scribbling on a scroll behind a wooden counter. His appearance was odd, to say the least. The man looked ageless, neither old nor young, with short hair as white as snow and the pallid skin of a walking corpse. He wore plain, tattered scarlet robes. No weapon, no accessory, no nothing.

The shopkeeper looked up at his guests with crimson eyes. His face was average, almost common. Yet Basil found it unnerving all the same. He couldn’t put his finger on why, but something about the man felt wrong beyond his albinism.

“Welcome to my humble establishment,” he said with a low, friendly voice. “I am Walter Tye, owner of Tye’s Boiling Cauldron.”

His tone was calm and soothing, his lips pursing into a thin smile, but the eyes… The absolute detachment in his gaze betrayed his true nature. Basil had seen that stare before on Bulgarian TV when the news showed the latest mafia catch.

This man, Walter Tye, was a cold-blooded killer. Yet the smile he showed Vasi appeared strangely genuine.

“Punctual,” the shopkeeper whispered. “I like it.”

“I said I wouldn’t keep you waiting,” Vasi replied before introducing the others. “This is Basil, and—”

“Shellgirl, co-CEO of Bohens International!” Shellgirl extended a hand to Walter with a confident salesman’s grin. “I’m so happy to make your acquaintance, Mr. Tye! I’m sure this is the beginning of a profitable business association!”

Walter glanced at the hand with amusement before shaking it. Shellgirl’s grin faltered a little at the contact. “So cold,” she whispered under her breath.

“If you would allow me a few minutes to finish my letter, I’ll be with you shortly,” the shopkeeper said after breaking the handshake. “You can check the wares in the meantime, if anything catches your fancy.”

Basil took the hint, but he didn’t look at the wares first. Instead, he searched for an exit. Vasi was right, this Walter Tye was dangerous with a capital D and Basil would rather cover his team’s rear if the worst came to pass.

He immediately noticed a complete absence of doors, with the only exits in sight being locked windows. Basil looked through one of them to see what lay beyond the shop.

Namely, nothing.

The shop didn’t stand on any ground. Only an endless void teeming with distant yellow stars and red nebulae awaited beyond its confines. The establishment floated on its own among a dizzyingly large expanse of nothingness.

We’re far away from Earth, Basil guessed after failing to recognize the constellations. The thought of joining Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin among the pantheon of space explorers filled him with both joy and unease. How powerful is this man, to create a place like this shop?

Vasi didn’t seem bothered. The witch was studiously reading a grimoire from the library, while Shellgirl checked the weapons and accessories on display. Basil noticed a flaming sword, a shield with a giant eye in its center, and even a dark wood bow among them. He studied the latter until the System decided to show him its stats.

Basil’s eyes almost bulged out of his skull as he read. He checked the price tag underneath: 120,000 gold coins. Basil didn’t have a currency baseline to compare the price to, but he had heard somewhere a piece of four gold grams cost around two hundred euros before the apocalypse. That bow alone cost many times more than all his party’s possessions combined. Basil had never felt so poor.

And if the System was truthful, then this weapon once belonged to a pagan god…

“Oh, you’re the first human warrior to check the bow before the big fiery sword.” An amused male voice startled Basil from behind. “Why the choice?”

It took Basil a few seconds to realize that the voice came from the headless armor. It must have belonged to a medieval knight, but nobody moved it as it took a step in Basil’s direction.

“Don’t mind me, I’m the chief’s chief of security,” said the walking armor. “And don’t worry about the price. We accept souls, memories, and firstborn children if you have some to spare.”

“Hagen, please stop spooking my customers,” the shopkeeper said absentmindedly from behind his counter. “We only take cash.”

“Anyway, why the bow?” Hagen asked Basil. “You don’t strike me as the bowman type.”

“I need a ranged weapon,” Basil replied. He heeded the bow’s cursed warning and didn’t touch it…and it was outside his price range considering its sheer, overwhelming stats. A quick glance at the shop’s weapons, those he could identify at least, confirmed his suspicions. “Are all your wares legendary items?”

“Almost.” Hagen pointed at the crystal statues with his shield. “These two are trophies and not for sale.”

The memory of Dax’s petrified citizens flashed before Basil’s eyes, and a chill traveled down his spine.

“Why the dark look, friend?” Hagen asked mirthfully. “Don’t mourn them. The girl did me in once after I bravely tried to stab her in the back. Out of loyalty, might I add.”

“It was a chore to bring you and the others back from the other side,” Walter commented from behind his counter. “I would appreciate it if you did not die again, my friend.”

“Pinky swear, chief. Pinky swear.”

“These items, they’re too expensive,” Shellgirl commented as she finished checking through the wares. “How can anybody purchase them?”

“No offense, but most visitors are a tiny bit higher level than you,” Hagen replied. “The chief’s establishment mostly caters to troll liches, would-be dark lords, demon kings, world-hopping pirates and adventurers…the big shots.”

“I thought the Level Barrier prevented anyone above level 25 from crossing into Earth?” Basil asked.

“It does,” Hagen replied with a dark chuckle. “Which is why you came to us, and not the other way around. Ain’t no barrier to protect anyone here.”

The headless armor’s words sounded casual, yet Basil didn’t miss the menacing edge underneath. The fact the System wouldn’t reveal his nature or level bothered him as well. Hagen was cut from the same cloth as his employer. They both disguised their dangerous nature under a veil of affability.

“An exclusive business targeting high-income individuals with luxury purchases…” Shellgirl retreated inside her carapace. “I need to write it down!”

“And nobody tried to rob you?” Basil asked. “You’re showing powerful weapons. I would be surprised if nobody tried to take them by force.”

“Some tried,” Hagen replied evasively.

Walter looked up from his scroll to stare straight at Basil. “Will you?”

Basil sensed an invisible pressure growing on his shoulders, alongside the cold sensation of invisible fingers caressing his neck. A deadly tension spread in the room, making Vasi turn her head in Basil’s direction with a worried expression. Shellgirl peeked out of her hideout with trembling lips.

Basil held firm…until a System screen appeared before his eyes and confirmed the danger at hand.

“I’ll pass,” Basil uttered the moment he saw the required level.

“Wise choice,” Walter Tye commented. The thin smirk at the edge of his lips told Basil that he could somehow see his System screens. The tension in the room immediately vanished and Vasi allowed herself to breathe.

Basil remembered games he had played. Some included a hidden, purely optional boss far more powerful than the last one; a final challenge for players seeking to prove their skills. The Superboss.

Basil had expected an almighty dragon or a slumbering demigod from the Trimurti System, not a merchant in the middle of nowhere, space.

“I have nothing to do with the System sowing chaos in your world,” Walter said. He sounded vaguely amused. “It might reward my destruction, but I am neither a cause nor a participant in your little godhood contest. I care nothing for it.”

“You can read my mind.” Basil didn’t mean it as a question, but as a statement. “Wonderful.”

“My apologies. Many customers walk into my shop with ill-intent, so I had to vet you first.”

Basil observed the man carefully. From what the quest showed, he was probably around level 99…or more. “Why would someone as powerful as you run a shop in the middle of nowhere?”

“I’ve asked myself the same question,” Vasi commented after setting a book aside. “What does an archmage of your caliber even need money for?”

“I don’t need gold. I can make it with a snap of my fingers.” Walter set his scroll aside and raised an eyebrow. “The question you should ask is not why I would run a shop. It’s why not?”

“Yeah, why would you need a reason to make money?” Shellgirl scolded Basil. “Wealth is not a goal, it’s an attitude!”

Basil figured it out. “Ah, I get it. Shopkeeping is not your job, but your hobby.”

“Yes,” Walter confirmed with a short nod. “I will admit there is an ulterior motive beyond leisure. My customers come from many places with their specificities. Trading with them expands my knowledge about the infinite worlds, their magical arts and peculiarities.”

“Oh, how do you please your clients?” Shellgirl immediately pestered him for advice. “Do you rough them up a bit to make a sale? Or are you gentle during the act?”

“Each client is unique,” Walter replied with clinical detachment. “I consider them all like my patients. You must put them through an extensive diagnosis before you can figure out the right remedy for their ills. I pride myself on finding the perfect treatment for each person.”

“Makes sense…” Shellgirl put a finger on her chin. “But how do you make the initial sale? I try to impress boys and girls with my assets, but they never seem big enough. I try to build up chemistry first but…I dunno.”

“A good sale is like a surgery.” Walter Tye joined his hands. “The client is afraid as they are about to venture into the unknown. You must listen to their fears, assuage them, and lull them to sleep before carving them open and extracting the cancer of dissatisfaction. No patience and understanding, no sale.”

“I see…” Shellgirl nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t let my customer interactions build up toward a satisfying climax. I’m too focused on seizing liquid assets as quickly as possible.”

Vasi glanced at Basil without a word. From her expression, she clearly struggled not to laugh.

I always knew she was a closet pervert, Basil thought grimly. Shellgirl had retreated inside her carapace again, most certainly to write down notes. The advice is good on paper, but I’m not sure if he’ll be a good influence on her.

“My letter is done, so I am all yours.” Walter studied Basil with a long, thoughtful gaze. “Vasi told me about your plight. I will gladly answer your questions about the multiverse, if I can.”

“For free?” Basil asked with a frown.

There were teeth behind Walter Tye’s smile. “It cost me nothing, and perhaps one day your friendship will pay dividends. You may be low-level for now, but who can say what you will achieve ten years from now on? All I ask is that you remember the help I provided, and return the favor if I ever come to you.”

Basil finally realized what bothered him so much about the shopkeeper.

He doesn’t blink. Neither did Basil notice any natural facial expression since he teleported into the shop. Each smile, each emotion on that cold visage was carefully calculated. This…this entity was playing a human the same way a Hollywood actor might pretend to be an alien on a set. They could make it work, but there was always a tiny detail that gave away the masquerade. He’s wearing a man suit.

“Are you a god?” Basil asked, trying to see his suspicions confirmed. “Or a demon?”

“I would rather be damned than either.” Walter Tye sneered with contempt. “I am human. Or was, depending on your definition. It’s a private matter.”

“I see.” Basil knew better than to push the subject. “And what is this place?”

“I can explain that,” Vasi said. “It’s a pocket plane between worlds. An artificial island between two continents, if you will. I’ve heard of a few archmages capable of building them.”

“I could teach you how,” Walter offered her. “My proposal of an apprenticeship still stands.”

“I am touched, truly,” Vasi replied with a respectful bow. “But I do not work well with mentors, and I prefer to study on my own. Nothing personal. I denied my own mother before you.”

The shopkeeper took the rejection in stride. “It’s a shame, but understandable.”

Basil wondered how much of Vasi’s polite refusal came from her stubborn desire for independence or from picking up red flags. Walter Tye struck him as mad, bad, and dangerous to know.

“You’re looking for a student?” Shellgirl asked with interest.

Vasi laughed. “A wizardry student, not a business one.”

“Shucks,” Shellgirl complained in utter disappointment.

A look of genuine sadness and remorse briefly flashed on Walter Tye’s cold face, albeit briefly. “My previous apprentice and I had a falling out a few years ago,” he explained. “She left a void in my heart.”

“Annie will come around, chief.” Hagen pointed at the crystalized prisoners with his flail. “Though not as long as we keep these two in storage. Perhaps you should release one as a show of goodwill?”

“Not today.” Walter Tye glanced at the statues with…spite? Hate? Basil couldn’t quite tell. The man’s poker face simply didn’t let much through in the way of feelings. “The Great Work is yet unfinished.”

“The Great Work?” Basil asked. “A philosopher’s stone?”

Walter Tye immediately looked at him with curiosity. “Are you familiar with alchemy?”

“A bit,” Basil admitted. He supposed his interest in it, alongside his pharmacovigilance training, explained why he had unlocked the Alchemist class. “My world’s alchemy was mostly medieval mumbo-jumbo. The System changed that, but I’m still figuring out what works and what doesn’t.”

“I should have expected as much considering your Alchemist class.” His answer seemed to please Walter greatly. “A shame you didn’t take more levels in it.”

“That’s the least of his problems,” Hagen commented. “His build is all over the place.”

“What do you mean?” Basil frowned. He never had the occasion to talk with individuals knowledgeable about level progression. “You make it sound like I made mistakes.”

“No matter the System, it is almost always better to specialize in a few classes rather than to spread your levels,” Walter explained. “A class’ Perks grow exponentially stronger the more you invest in them, especially when you cap them out. Your seven classes give you versatility, but I fear you will regret your choice in the long term. I suggest that you focus on developing those you already have rather than try out new ones.”

Basil listened to the advice, but he wasn’t sure if he would follow it. Basil was after self-sufficiency rather than power, hence why he took levels in Gardener and Fisherman. He couldn’t afford to specialize yet.

However, Walter Tye had used a very important turn of phrase.

“No matter the System,” Basil repeated. Such a short sentence, and yet heavy with implications. “How many are there?”

Walter Tye snapped his fingers and a blank scroll materialized on the counter. He grabbed his scribbling feather, drenched it in ink, and started drawing disparate dots all over the surface. A disappointed Basil watched in silence.

“What?” Walter asked, his voice laced with a hint of annoyance.

“I expected a light show or holographic presentation,” Basil admitted.

“I prefer the simplicity of paper and ink.” Walter shrugged his shoulders. “These dots represent the multiverse, an infinity of worlds. Most of them do not have Systems, but some do. Fundamentals like experience, classes, and levels remain the same, but each of them has specificities. My homeworld’s Yggdrasil System, which holds sway in my shop, works on different physics than yours.”

Yggdrasil. Basil knew the name as Norse mythology’s world tree. Skadi, whose bow was on display, belonged to it, too. Was that a coincidence? Neria mentioned that the Metal Olympus faction believed in Hellenic gods, so it wasn’t far-fetched to imagine Norse gods running around.

Could he be Loki? Basil wondered as he observed Walter Tye. Considering how the shopkeeper reacted to questions about his true nature, he would keep his thoughts to himself.

“I’ve noticed the absence of a magic stat,” Basil said out loud.

“It’s but one of many details. Both monsters and humanoids can access classes in our world, but dangerous creatures possess ‘racial’ levels.”

Basil scoffed. “Like what, a dragon class?”

“My world’s System introduced a similar mechanism,” Vasi confirmed. “Though it was not always the case.”

“Systems may differ in the details, but they mostly follow compatible internal logic. They speak the same language, so to say, and often share common roots.” Walter drew lines between multiple dots, connecting them. “This compatibility allows for…communication, for lack of a better term.”

Basil’s eyes widened as the puzzle’s pieces fell into place. He remembered the server inside the Ogre Den dungeon, and it clicked.

“The internet,” he whispered. “It’s like the internet.”

Walter raised an eyebrow. “I am not familiar with the term.”

“Shouldn’t you, since you can read minds?” Vasi asked with a grin.

“I do not do it all the time. That would be impolite.”

“People use devices called computers to communicate in my world,” Basil explained. “They run on wildly different exploitation systems or technologies, but they communicate together through common protocols. It’s a network of networks.”

“Interesting.” Walter gave Basil a sharp nod. “Would you mind bringing me one of these computers next time you visit?”

“Would you trade it for a legendary weapon?” Basil asked. He wouldn’t let a good negotiation opportunity pass.

“Perhaps not for a unique artifact, since the device seems commonplace in your world,” Walter replied. “But I’m sure we can figure out a win-win trade.”

“Now you’re speaking my language,” Shellgirl commented. “Leave it to me, Partner. I’ll get you the best deal possible.”

Walter was unfamiliar with computers, in spite of the fact that his shop catered to high-level adventurers from many worlds. His reaction implied that Earth’s technology was not commonplace. It made sense to Basil. With magic at their fingertips, civilizations may never need to develop tools more advanced than bows and hammers.

“Walter, do you know where Systems come from?” Vasi asked. “My world’s dragons pretend they created it, but they’ll say anything to sound important.”

“I’ve traced back many Systems to two progenitors. Two, shall we say, supreme deities.” Walter stretched the last two words as if it physically hurt him to say them. Basil suspected him of misotheism. “They collaborated to create multiple worlds and seed them with Systems, including mine.”

“For what purpose?” Basil asked.

“I intend to ask them that question when I locate them.” A dark look passed over Walter’s face. Basil had a pretty good idea of what the ‘discussion’ with his makers would entail. “But they did not create all the Systems across the infinite worlds. Some, it seems, arose naturally from random magical interactions. Others were the brainchildren of cosmic entities.”

“Of Overgods,” Basil guessed.

“Yes, whatever,” Walter said with a shrug. “I suspect your Trimurti System’s roots differ from mine, but they are similar enough to interact and thus create bridges between the worlds they administer. These inter-System connections are what you call Incursions.”

That cleared the root cause of the phenomenon. Basil glanced at one dot and pictured it as Earth. He then studied the web of arrays connecting it to a dozen other worlds. His mind struggled to capture the size of it all.

“Are Incursions common?” he asked.

“It depends,” Walter replied sharply. “My world is part of a cluster with eight others that periodically and partially merged. These Convergences, as we called them, happened as part of a natural process similar to periodic planetary alignment. In contrast, your Incursions are wholly manufactured from what Vasi told me.”

“Merged, happened,” Basil repeated. “Past tense. You can halt Incursions?”

“Yes,” Walter replied flatly. Basil’s heart skipped a beat in his chest, but the shopkeeper quickly dashed his hopes. “However, the method I used to achieve it is completely unique to the Yggdrasil System. You won’t be able to replicate it.”

“I can always try,” Basil insisted.

Hagen chuckled. “Does your world follow a thousand-year prophecy foretelling the end and rebirth of all things?”

Basil clenched his jaw. He was about to mention the Book of Revelation, but almost all religions included their own end-of-the-world scenario. Considering the existence of so many gods, Basil couldn’t tell which one was accurate.

“There is another method available to you.” Walter smiled thinly at Basil. “Have you not figured it out? I thought you did, considering you blew up the first dungeon you came across.”

Basil tried to figure out what he meant, and almost beat his head over the counter. The answer was painfully obvious.

“The dungeons brought the Trimurti System to Earth.” Basil clenched his fists. “If they’re gone, the System will follow.”

“In theory,” Walter confirmed. “Hunting them all would be a centuries-long task.”

Basil crossed his arms as he considered this new information. As far as he knew, thousands of dungeons summoned monsters across all corners of the globe. Destroying them all would demand coordinated effort from the entirety of Earth’s population…and the Unity could make more neurotowers anyway.

“Even if you can’t destroy them all,” Walter said, having clearly read Basil’s mind. “The less dungeons active on your planet, the less processing power will go to the Trimurti System. It will make it more difficult to connect to other worlds.”

“Destroying a few dungeons won’t prevent Incursions,” Basil summed up, “but it will delay them.”

It would also screw with the Apocalypse Force and the Unity as a bonus. Destroying dungeons wouldn’t return the world to normal, not without a concerted effort, but it would give mankind breathing room. He needed to inform Neria at the first opportunity.

“It’s not the best course of action,” Basil said. “But it’s the best I can think of.”

“Tsk, tsk, Partner.” Shellgirl wagged a finger at him. “Maybe you can’t think outside the box, but I do.”

Basil scoffed. “You’ve got a better idea?”

“As a matter of fact, yes I do!” Shellgirl replied with a grin. “From what I gathered here, Dismaker Labs didn’t create the Trimurti System as their core product. They imported it from another world using their technology.”

“What about it?”

“Would you try something so risky without hedging your bets, Partner?” Shellgirl asked. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to keep an off-switch ready in case the deal backfired?”

Basil stared at his companion as if she had grown a second head. “You think Dismaker Labs put a failsafe in their server network?”

“That’s what I would do in their place,” she replied. “Pretty smart, huh? It’s like our TV. You don’t have to walk to the screen to push the buttons. You just need to find the remote.”

Basil couldn’t tell if Shellgirl was delusional or utterly brilliant.

“Could it be?” he asked Walter. “I mean, is it technically possible?”

“The Yggdrasil System overseeing my world is an integral part of it, as pervasive as gravity. The rise of deities in my reality were a byproduct of the System, not its end goal.” Walter pointed his quill at Basil. “Your Trimurti System, however, was intentionally summoned for the explicit purpose of achieving godhood. The people who did it probably set special parameters. I doubt they could make the rules, or else they would have made themselves gods from the get-go…but they could tweak them.”

“They slipped an update along the way,” Basil guessed. Dismaker Labs restricted class access to humans and elves for some reason. Come to think of it, it was awfully suspicious. Why could they access Player classes when humanoids like orcs could not? Was it an oversight…or a feature?

If Dismaker Labs indeed added a failsafe to their neurotower network, then the world could potentially return to normal. Basil needed to confirm the theory. If he needed to travel to Paris for answers, then so be it.

For the sake of his peaceful life.