Apocalypse Tamer: A LitRPG Adventure: Chapter 34

In the end, nobody purchased anything. Basil neither had the currency nor an item worth trading, at least for now. Even Walter’s potions and crafting recipes were too expensive for his meager funds.

Basil was happy with the trip all the same. Walter Tye was a dangerous man, but a knowledgeable one. He had given the team much to consider.

“Can you tell me more about the Trimurti System?” Basil asked.

“I know little more than you.” Walter shrugged. “I can tell you this: your Earth is not the first world touched by the Trimurti System and three supreme deities administer it.”

“I’ve guessed as much.”

“It’s the deities part that matters,” Walter pointed out. “Most Systems are self-sufficient. They need no overseer to function. If three deities found it necessary to involve themselves in its day-to-day management, then there must be a reason. Perhaps they serve a function in it.”

Shiva the Destroyer, if that was indeed he who shattered Elysium, embodied devastation. The other two members of the trinity, Brahma and Vishnu, represented creation and preservation respectively. If Shiva’s role was to destroy the world if summoned, what were the other two doing?

Basil had a gut feeling he was about to figure it all out. A little more digging and all the pieces would fall into place.

“Have you met with members of the Apocalypse Force?” Basil asked. “Or the Unity? Metal Olympus?”

“I have vaguely heard of the first two, although I’ve yet to encounter either of these groups,” Walter replied with a frown. “Metal Olympus is completely unknown to me. They must be native to your world, or perhaps they come from a corner of the multiverse I’m unfamiliar with. I can ask my other clients if you wish.”

“That would be nice.” Basil squinted at the shopkeeper. “Though I assume you won’t do it for free.”

As expected, Walter Tye asked for a favor in return for his services. “Come back to me with computers and related technology. I pay handsomely for a job well-done, whether in gold or information. You will not regret it.”

“Sure,” Basil agreed to the offer. Abandoned laptops were easy to come by nowadays. “I’ll need a way to come back here, however.”

Walter Tye snapped his fingers, and a small crystal skull identical to Vasi’s appeared in the palm of his hand.

“Take this,” he said. “It will teleport you and up to two other people into my shop.”

“Not more?” Basil asked as he grabbed the skull. It felt strangely light and warm to the touch in his hand.

“As far as customers go, I prefer quality over quantity.”

“It makes it harder for thieves to break in,” Hagen commented. “The skulls only work for the people they’re attuned to. So, if a thief loots your corpse, they can’t reach this place.”

“My, did you share these gifts with others?” Vasi asked coyly. “I’m jealous.”

“Mayhaps,” Walter replied evasively. “A good shopkeeper never reveals their clients’ personal information. I take no sides.”

Aka, he will sell weapons to our friends and enemies alike, Basil read between the lines. The Apocalypse Force, the Unity, Earth’s armies, they’re all customers to him. Nothing more.

Walter Tye smiled at Basil. His lips had a predatory edge to them. “I often make friends with customers, but we are too early to reach that stage, Basil.”

“Will you give us a discount if we befriend you?” Shellgirl asked.

“Perhaps.” Walter bade them farewell with a polite nod. “Good luck on your journey. Especially you, Vasi. We will meet again.”

He snapped his fingers, and darkness swallowed Basil’s group once more. When it receded, they were back in his kitchen.

“He is an interesting man, wouldn’t you agree?” Vasi noted.

“A dangerous one,” Basil corrected. Maybe the most dangerous I’ve met yet.

“So much to do.” Shellgirl pointed a finger at Basil, as if daring him to take up a new challenge. “Now that’s Big Business, Partner! An exclusive shop pleasuring the highest net worths! I’ve been trying a grassroots discount strategy, but clearly we’ve got to up our game!”

“I’m not opening a shop in my backyard,” Basil stated before facing Vasi. “You said he helped you refine your Samhain ritual?”

“He did.” Vasi put a hand on her waist. From her expression, she was about to ask for a favor. “If your proposal still stands, I would require your assistance on that front.”

Basil sighed. After she went to the trouble of organizing a meeting with Walter, he could hardly deny her. “Go on.”

“My version of the ritual only requires specific items and Samhain. The right tools and the right time. Walter’s improved ritual, which will benefit more in terms of power and experience, requires a right place, too.” Vasi’s smile strained a little. “I need to cast it in an active dungeon.”

Of course. Couldn’t magic rituals have simple conditions? At least this one didn’t need a human sacrifice or a volcanic eruption.

“The two dungeons closest to us, the one in Seignosse and the Water Sanctuary in Lourdes, are both held by the Apocalypse Force,” Basil pointed out. “Infiltrating either is a risky proposal.”

“I know,” Vasi replied, her expression darkening a little. “I’ll perfectly understand if you want to sit this one out.”

“Are you kidding?” Shellgirl asked with a grin. “We were planning to hit one of these two anyway!”

“Seignosse’s dungeon is on our radar,” Basil explained. Megabug’s fellow insects had probably reported his party’s existence to their superior, which left only one solution to cover their tracks: the cement shoes checkout. “And you heard Walter, destroying dungeons will delay the Incursions and benefit everyone in the long-term. We can attack Seignosse, clean up the place with your help, let you run your ritual, and then blow the place up afterward.”

“Looks like the stars align then.” Vasi playfully put a finger on Basil’s chin. “Consider yourself hired as my bodyguard, Basil. I’ll make it worth your while…”

Basil gave her a blank, empty stare. She was trying to fluster him; she needed to up her game.

“You’re no fun to tease,” Vasi complained. “But I’m patient. I’ll break that poker face one day. I swear it.”

“Your assets are useless against me, woman,” Basil boasted. “The only red you’ll see on my face is goblin blood.”

“Don’t tempt me.” Vasi sat on the kitchen counter and crossed her legs. Basil had to admit she had mastered the ‘femme fatale’ look. No wonder she drove paladins lovesick. “Anyway, mind if I set up shop in your basement until Samhain? It’ll be easier to coordinate an attack on the dungeon if I don’t have to run back and forth to my house.”

“Sure, you can take one of the guest rooms upstairs.” Neria Elissalde never complained about it. “Up for fried velociraptor tonight? Kuikui doesn’t mind eating his own kind.”

“Sure, I’ll bring drinks and pastries for dessert.”

“Awesome!” Shellgirl gave Vasi a high five. “We’ll be the best roommates ever!”

“It’s only temporary,” Basil said. “Vasi’s only crashing for a while.”

The two women gave him a familiar glance, the very same Basil’s own university flatmate once used when he said one of his friends would sleep on the couch ‘only a few days until he finds a better place.’

He ended up staying for two years.

As promised, Estrid’s elves helped the party carry Steamslime’s shell to the house by twilight.

Rosemarine and Bugsy did the heavy lifting for the latter part. The mighty duo dragged the ruined snail-dragon’s former habitat with chains, like horses pulling a carriage. They brought down many trees, scratched the road along the way, and wrecked the fence.

In short, they had left a clear trail to the house.

“In hindsight, this may not have been my brightest idea,” Basil said with a groan. Steamslime’s colossal, ravaged mechanical shell stood by the river and overshadowed his house. As it wasn’t technically part of his Lair, the Stealthy feature didn’t hide it from view.

“Any flier will see it from miles away,” Vasi said. The witch sat on a pile of luggage almost as tall as Basil himself. As for Shellgirl, she had gone to the orcs with monster parts to make into a Berserker outfit. “Your secret base won’t stay that way much longer.”

“Your world uses miles instead of kilometers?” Basil asked with a sneer. “If so, I pity it.”

“Miles sound classier than kilometers,” Vasi shot back.

“It’s okay, Mister,” Rosemarine said as she nested inside the shell. Since she was slightly smaller than Steamslime, she fit in just right. House Garden’s party gathered around her like chicks flocking to a mother hen. “I will protect you.”

“The queen has a castle!” the vegetables sang. “All hail the queen’s castle!”

“Strap some wheels on it and it could make for a moving caravan,” Estrid Firekiss suggested. She had come alone to the house, with her fellow elves vanishing as quickly as they came. “Staying on the move is the best protection against detection.”

Unfortunately for her, Basil was the ultimate evolution of the modern human: the Homo Sedentary. He wouldn’t move from his house, at least not until after winter.

The steam-powered shell more than made up for its lack of discretion with usefulness, as it could produce easy energy with access to the stream. Basil’s gas reserves weren’t limitless, and solar energy didn’t provide enough for the team’s ever-expanding membership.

“Yo, dog, look at what we found.” Plato dumped a bag full of books at Basil’s feet. “Are these what you were looking for?”

“You scouted Dax’s library?” Basil asked. “Good thinking.”

“See, Basil, this is why I nap eighteen hours a day,” Plato declared with pride. “It gives me the mental processing power to anticipate future needs.”

“Oh, then you can help calculate how much energy we’ll need to survive the next winter without exhausting our reserves.”

“Once again, Basil, you approach a problem without thinking outside the box.” Plato smiled smugly. “You shouldn’t calculate energy, but our cushion supply.”

“I can cast fire spells for heating if you need it,” Vasi said before examining the books. “Did you find any magical grimoires, oh prince of cats?”

“I dunno,” Plato replied. “I nabbed stuff I thought Basil needed.”

“Let me check.” Basil searched the bag. Plato had grabbed every book that vaguely mentioned India: In Light of India by Octavio Paz, India: A Million Mutinies Now by V.S. Naipaul, The Argumentative Indian by Amartya Sen, and by far the biggest academic grimoire of them all, A Short Introduction to the Veda and Hindu Religions.

One book, however, stood out from the rest.

“Architecture for Dummies?” Basil read the cover.

“I-I took that one for myself, Boss.” Bugsy snapped his mandibles in embarrassment. “I, uh, I thought our fence would benefit from a watchtower.”

Basil considered the pros and cons of transforming his house into a fortified camp. He would have said no once, considering the risk of discovery, but the Apocalypse Force’s presence in the region and a quick glance at Steamslime’s shell changed his mind.

Bugsy took his silence for reluctance. “Sorry, Boss, I should have known it was a stupid idea—”

“We’ll need at least two watchtowers, not one,” Basil interrupted him. “Let’s dig a ditch around the fence, too. There must be a reason why all medieval castles have ditches.”

“I-I will build them right away, Boss!” Bugsy raised one of his many tiny hands. “Can I work on expanding the henhouse, too? We will need more space for Kuikui’s future babies!”

Oh right, Basil had almost forgotten about Kuikui. The young dino-rooster was checking on the hens, smelling them, feeling them. Basil’s chickens were obviously a little apprehensive of the larger dinosaur’s dinosaur, but not as much as he feared.

“Kui harem?” Kuikui asked Basil, pointing at the hens and rabbits with his claws.

“Yes, Kui harem,” Basil replied.

“Kui hump rabbits, too?”

“If Kui wants.” Basil’s rabbits already romanced the hens on their own, so it wouldn’t change much. “Is Kui ready?”

“Kui good. Kui…inseminator.” Kuikui cleared his throat, his tail wagging slowly. “But Kui…Kui anxious about his performance.”

“I can brew an enhancer,” Vasi said. “If you can stand the Blind ailment.”

“It’s all right, Kuikui.” Basil pat his velociraptor on the head and whispered in his ear. “I’ll be there.”

Vasi put a hand on her mouth to smother her laugh, and Kuikui looked up at his owner with his big reptilian eyes. “You’ll be there for Kuikui?”

“I’ll be watching,” Basil promised. “Cheering you on. Make sure you don’t fuck up.”

“Poor choice of words,” Plato snickered in the background. “Shouldn’t he be the wingmate and not the other way around?”

“Shut up, Plato,” Basil said as Kuikui looked down on the grass. “You’re shaming him!”

“I will be there for you, too, Kuikui!” Bugsy promised with enthusiasm. He had truly embraced the farmer lifestyle. “I will put cushions in the coop and build a cradle for the chicks! I’ll help from start to finish!”

“Okay, I’m out,” Plato said before walking away into the house. “Wake me up for dinner.”

“I will have to leave too soon, Lord Bohen,” Estrid said. “Can you show me your holomachine?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Basil turned to Kuikui. “Can you hold out for a minute?”

“Kuikui not sure,” the velociraptor replied. “But Kuikui will try.”

Basil took it as a good sign for his pantry’s future and led Estrid into the garage. Vasi followed them out of curiosity.

“You know, this is only the second time I’ve met an elf in the flesh,” the witch told Estrid. “Your kind is bouncing back from near-extinction in my world.”

Estrid’s eyes lit up with hope. “My kind thrives in other worlds?”

“I wouldn’t say thrive considering the propensity of dragons to abduct their princesses, but most elves are living the good life.” Vasi didn’t miss the frown on Estrid’s face when she said ‘dragons.’ “I take it you are not a fan of flying lizards.”

“Is there any world safe from them?” Estrid glanced at Vasi with compassion. “I’m sorry to hear your world suffers from their rule.”

“Their rule?” Vasi laughed so hard that she almost choked on the spot, much to Estrid’s confusion. “Dragons? They think lead poisoning is a disease to turn gold to lead! How can you expect them to rule anything?”

“I take it there’s no Unity in your world?” Basil asked as he activated the holomachine.

“There is a dragon god in the pantheon and one dragon-ruled southern empire,” Vasi conceded after calming herself, “but the undead vizier does all the work. Dragons are more like giant cats in Outremonde; they would rather nap on golden cushions rather than do meaningful work.”

Estrid watched the witch with an indecipherable gaze. Basil guessed that the mere idea of a harmless dragon was simply too alien for her to process. The elf turned her gaze away from Vasi and focused on the thrumming holomachine. Runic symbols appeared on its polished mirror surface, which Estrid immediately decrypted.

“I know these signs.” The elf touched the mirror screen and lighted up one symbol after another. “They are a coded language that the Trimurti System does not automatically translate.”

“But you can read it?” Basil guessed.

“Yes and no. The symbols are a mystery to me, but my Oracle class allows me to guess Steamslime’s password.” Estrid completed a sequence of five signs, and white mist filled the ‘screen.’ The fog had depth to it, much like an advanced three-dimensional effect. “It means ‘hoard.’”

Basil snickered. “Really?”

“I’m not surprised,” Vasi said with a giggle.

“Lord Bohen, a dragon’s password is always hoard, treasure, gold, or a variation thereof.” Estrid glanced at the slot used to fit gems in. “The machine will not work without a game inside.”

“There’s no internet connection, like Steam?” Basil asked. “No geolocalisation?”

“I am not familiar with the terms you use, but no, this machine is not connected to anything. Or if it was, the connection was cut when you defeated Steamslime.”

Here went Basil’s hopes of hacking the Unity, but at least it meant the dragonlords wouldn’t track the holomachine back to his house.

Steamslime had dropped nineteen gems after his death. The System wouldn’t tell Basil what each of them contained, but it did give him the names. He picked the one called Wyrde’s Grimoire, as Steamslime mentioned that name before his demise.

“Does the name Wyrde mean anything to you?” Basil asked Estrid. The elf’s expression darkened. “It does.”

“Grandmaster Wyrde is the supreme leader of the Unity,” Estrid explained. “She is an archmage and crafter of immense power. I heard rumors that she can cast Tier XII spells and invented half of the Unity’s machines.”

Vasi had shown Basil that some monsters could cast spells and craft under the right circumstances, so it didn’t surprise him much. Dragons were bound to be overpowered, no matter where they came from. “What’s her level?”

“According to rumors…” Estrid cleared her throat. “Above 90.”

No wonder she and the Maleking had been rivals for years. Basil took solace in the fact she wouldn’t break into Earth anytime soon as he inserted the gem into the holomachine.

The fog filling the mirrored screen cleared, revealing a holographic projection of a magnificent dragon, not a snail-like parody of one like Steamslime, but a true European dragon with four mighty legs and awe-inspiring translucent wings. The dragon was slim and refined, with scales of polished silver, shining sapphire eyes, and great white horns. Lightning seemed to course in her veins as if they were circuits and runic symbols burned on her wings. The beauty of the beast left Basil almost speechless.

The holomachine’s processing power surpassed even that of the Playstation 5. The image of the dragon was so lifelike, so detailed, that Basil briefly wondered if he was peering through a window. Estrid kept a hand on her sword, as if half expecting Wyrde to leap through the mirror and attack them for real.

The dragon did no such thing. Wyrde instead locked eyes with Basil as if she could see him, her maw of sharp fangs opening to whisper soft words.

“I am Wyrde, Grandmaster of the Unity.” The dragon’s voice was serene, feminine, and almost motherly. Basil would have attributed it to a smooth therapist rather than a world-conquering flying reptile. “If you are a dragon, then you are the happy owner of a spell training and simulation program of my own devising. If you are not a dragon, you are violating Unity law and committing a grade-one thoughtcrime. Please report this holomachine to the nearest station and turn yourself in for reeducation therapy.”

The pre-recorded speech drew Basil back to reality. No matter how lifelike the creature looked, it was only a program. One that sounded very much like a North Korea ad, too.

“Training program?” Basil asked. Vasi leaned in to listen. “Can you teach me magic?”

The holographic dragon nodded sharply. “This training program can guide you up to spellcasting Tier VI according to most Systems.”

“Tier VI?” By now, Vasi leaned in so much on Basil’s shoulder that he could feel her breath on his neck. “How interesting.”

“However, to ensure optimal progression, you must learn all the spells of a Tier before unlocking the next one,” Wyrde pointed out.

The System confirmed her words to Basil.

Wyrde waved her clawed hand, and a floating spreadsheet appeared in front of her. “Here is the list of magical disciplines my program can teach you under the current System.”

• Thaumaturgy
• Necromancy
• Psychism
• Chronomancy
• Astromancy
• Arithmancy
• Ritualism
• Runic
• Performance
• Geomancy
• Shamanism
• Witchcraft

Vasi’s expression reminded Basil of a child in a candy store. Her eyes burned with greed and curiosity.

“Basil,” she said, ever so softly. “You know you are my dearest fri—”

“Yeah, you can use the machine to train.” Basil dismissively waved a hand at the machine. “I don’t care.”

“You are such a sweet gentleman.” Vasi lightly kissed him on the cheek. The gesture and the warmth of her lips startled Basil, and to his annoyance, he felt a little more blood than usual rushing to his head. The witch smirked in triumph. “Oh my, I finally left you flustered. I’m disappointed that a mere light kiss was enough.”

“You took me by surprise, that is all,” Basil replied with a grunt. “Can’t you find a better hobby?”

“Not so long as you remain so amusing to tease.”

“You have unlocked: 0 spells,” Wyrde said with noticeable distaste. “You must work harder. Nothing less than excellence is befitting of a member of the dragon race.”

Steamslime had clearly slacked off on his phenomenal cosmic power studies.

“Why is Prayer missing from the list?” Basil asked. The scene reminded him of his university days and fruitless attempts to get bored teachers to explain themselves.

“Prayer is for minions, as is Diabolism,” the digital tutor replied with disdain. “A true dragon does not barter or submit for power. They are power.”

“Diabolism is fiend-related magic,” Vasi explained. “It usually involves forming demonic pacts for power.”

Basil rolled his eyes. If the dragon spoke the truth, then the Trimurti System recognized at least fourteen schools of magic. Basil assumed the existence of a class for each, if not more.

“Can you define the term ‘minion’?” Apparently, the alien program could adapt to his questions, so Basil might as well fish for information about the Unity.

“Minions are non-dragon races,” the silver dragon explained with quiet arrogance. “Minions are like children, naïve and fragile. If left to their own devices, they hurt themselves and each other. They need us dragons to protect them, to teach them the right way to live. That is why we created the Unity. To unite the universe under our guidance and save the lesser races from themselves.”

The casual racism and colonial rhetoric made Basil want to puke. Vasi’s cheerful expression turned into one of utter distaste, and Estrid herself looked about to choke.

“This is who they are,” the elf said. “They look down on us.”

“These dragons are even more overbearing than my world’s,” Vasi noted. “I didn’t think it was possible.”

“What if minions refuse dragon guidance?” Basil asked rhetorically. “What if they resist?”

“Minions do not have the emotional maturity to meaningfully talk back,” Wyrde answered calmly. “If they were sufficiently enlightened, they would understand that dragon rule is the hallmark of an advanced civilization. Certainly, some minion species are too barbaric to grasp this simple fact and we must use force to let them see the errors of their ways. That is heartbreaking. But whenever you harbor doubt about our mission, you must always remember…”

The dragon put a hand on her reptilian chest.

“This is an act of love.”

She managed to say it with a straight face and a voice brimming with conviction.

He was a worm in the ground, smaller than a finger.

His two eyes were too primitive to distinguish colors. His mandibles could do little more than burrow in the ground. The dart at the end of his tail could barely inflict damage. He was weak even among weaklings, a pathetic example of a level 1 monster. Perhaps one day, if his hive killed enough prey, he would evolve into a stronger form.

But he was not the mouth of the swarm.

He was its eyes and ears.

“I shall take my leave, Lord Bohen,” the red-haired elf said as the human Bohen accompanied her to the limit of his domain. It was she who the worm had followed to this place, so far away from the nest. His orders were to watch and listen so the swarm could feast later. The elves were weak, and the weak were the food of the strong. “I’ve had my fill of dragons.”

“Thanks for your help,” the human Bohen replied. “If you ever want to settle in the Barthes—”

“No, thank you. In fact, we will leave the region the next day. If your suspicions are correct and the Apocalypse Force took over the nearest dungeon, then we can’t afford to stay. Normal monsters will fight us if we cross their path, but the Apocalypse Force will actively hunt us down.”

She was right to be afraid. The swarm had taken over many dungeons on this planet, more than even the Unity. One day, so very soon, they would conquer them all and usher in the end of all things.

But the swarm cared nothing for elf weaklings. Not when a better prize had shown himself.

The worm hid in the dirt unseen, his eyes and smell hidden by fresh grass. The feline had almost detected him once, but he thought him no more a threat than the mindless frogs in the swamp. A mistake. For the worm was himself, but he was also the swarm.

And the swarm knew the human. It had watched through a murdered drone’s eyes as Basil Bohen blew his head off. The swarm understood what he was.

An enemy.

“They won’t be a threat for long, but suit yourself,” the human Bohen said. “Any way we can stay in touch? Do you have a radio?”

“I’m afraid not.” The elf smiled sadly. “If we were part of a guild, we could communicate over long distances. Alas, this is not to be.”

“All right.” The human Bohen extended a hand. “Good luck then.”

“Until our paths cross again.” The elf shook the Bohen’s hand and left.

The worm did not follow her. He crawled stealthily after the human as the Bohen retreated back into his hive of stone and wood. As the worm watched, so did the swarm. A will stirred inside the hive mind, the terrible soul of the Horseman of Famine. The worm felt Lord Apollyon’s mental presence pierce through the boundary between worlds and fill his mind, whispering orders…

And then claws plucked the worm from the ground.

“Kuikui found pretty food!” his captor said before offering the worm to a hungry hen. “You must mate with Kuikui now!”

The larva died screaming down a chicken’s gullet, and the swarm cared nothing for it. He had fulfilled his purpose.

They knew where the Bohen lived.