When dawn reared its head, the sun rose upon a land of ash.
Standing atop a mound near the stream, Basil and Plato witnessed the devastation with grim hearts. The air was thick with ashes carried by the cold autumn wind. The grayness of death had taken over the lush nature of the Barthes. Everywhere he looked, Basil saw burned husks of trees, piles of dust, and the charred bones of an animal that couldn’t escape the inferno in time.
And the silence…a forest teemed with life, yet the Barthes were now as silent as an open grave. Its animals had fled the devastation, never to return.
It took decades for the European Union to create natural wildlife reserves through the Natura 2000 initiative. The Barthes had been one such protected area among thousands of fragile ecosystems protected by law. Some of the species that lived in the area were rare or outright endangered.
What the dungeons started, the Apocalypse Force finished. It would take years for the area’s ecosystem to recover, if at all.
Everyone had lost a home today.
“You know Plato,” Basil said, his voice raspy in his throat. “René dedicated decades of his life to studying the Barthes’ ecosystem. He surveyed the crane population, helped reintroduce amphibians back into their natural habitat, fought against invasive algae, lobbied the government to set up a path where tourists could walk along without disturbing the animals…”
“He was a nerd,” Plato replied.
“He was. He built his house so far away from civilization so he could be closer to the nature he loved so much.” Basil waved a hand at the devastation. “This sight would have given him a heart attack.”
It angered him that the Old Man’s tombstone directly faced this devastating landscape. It almost looked like a post-mortem insult.
Of all the Barthes’ landmarks, the shrine near the river was the only one to have miraculously survived. Trees had been laid low, ponds filled with dust and the marketplace rendezvous point was now a barren wasteland, but the old church and its tombstones still stood. Basil wouldn’t call it a miracle, though it did soothe his heart a little.
“Why are we here?” Plato asked as they faced René’s tombstone. “To bring flowers?”
“I would have if I could find any,” Basil replied. The Apocalypse Force had burned his greenhouse to cinders and no natural flowers survived the inferno. Apollyon had warned that he intended to make Earth a barren wasteland. The Barthes were but a preview of what would happen to Earth if the Horseman of Famine had his way.
Basil would kill him long before they reached that point.
“We’re here to say goodbye, Plato,” Basil explained. “We won’t return for a while…if at all.”
Plato nodded slowly. Once the cat would have protested at the idea of abandoning the marshes and René’s tombstone, but yesterday’s attack hardened his resolve.
“Thank you,” he muttered under his breath.
“Mm?” Basil glanced down at his best friend. “What did you say?”
“Thank you for taking me in with René.” Plato looked up at his owner. “Thank you, Basil. It was great to have a roof over my head and fresh food every morning.”
“And thanks for waking me up more gently than an alarm,” Basil replied with a chuckle. “We might have to skip a few breakfasts from now on.”
“Hunger will make me deadlier.” Plato stretched his back. “I can’t wait to hunt again. Do you think you could make bug meat tasty?”
“With the right spices, I’m sure I can make it trendy.”
And they would have a lot of practice. Eventually, Basil would get bug cuisine right.
“I’m sorry, Old Man.” Basil made a cross sign with his hand in front of René’s tombstone. “I couldn’t protect the home you entrusted to us.”
“It’s not your fault,” Plato repeated for the hundredth time today.
“It is.” Apollyon had made a point. Basil had destroyed a dungeon and expected little to no consequences for it. “I thought we could weather the apocalypse in peace if we kept our heads down. I forgot that trouble finds you even when you don’t look for it.”
Basil had forgotten that the best defense was a good offense and the preemptive obliteration of all potential threats, followed by a sustained campaign of intimidation to deter future attacks.
“But I swear it on your tombstone, Old Man.” Basil pumped a fist. “One day I’ll rebuild the house and the Barthes. Even if I have to haul back new frogs all the way from Bulgaria.”
“Maybe it’s for the best we move on,” Plato snickered. “It will lull the birds into a false sense of security. They’ll come back, breed, and rut, blissfully unaware of my approach as I stalk them all over again…”
A bird serial killer slumbered in every cat. The urge could stay quiet for months, sometimes years, but it never went away.
“See you soon, Old Man.” Basil bowed one last time before the tombstone, as did Plato. “We’ll be back.”
After paying their last respects, the duo traveled back to their home’s ruins. Everyone was already working hard. Only Vasi was missing from the gathering, having left as soon as she woke up to check on her old hut.
Kuikui and House Garden’s members piled up whatever supplies survived the battle, from a few cans of food to a few half-molten electronic pieces. Unfortunately, Basil’s Nintendo Switch wasn’t among them. His favorite console perished, never to return like the Lair Points he invested in his destroyed home. It was yet another insult on top of his injuries.
Rosemarine and Bugsy worked in tandem to repair Steamslime’s shell. The former lifted plates of metal harvested from city vehicles and the latter melted them into the structure with his firebreath. The dismembered husk of Basil’s road roller awaited its turn next to the structure.
Estrid pointed out that Steamslime’s shell could make for a good caravan if equipped with wheels. Basil strongly considered following through with her suggestion by harvesting components from road rollers and cranes in Dax. Rosemarine’s strength would allow her to pull the modified shell like a carriage.
This mobile fortress would never be as practical as a campervan and would demand a lot of repairs, but it could transport a large number of people on the road. Only Basil knew how to drive among his party.
As for Shellgirl, Basil found her talking with a guest near the stream: the youngest member of the orc family the group met at the market a few days ago. The teen—Orcine, if Basil’s memory served—had come without her parents, her rusty iron mace tainted with dried blood. She wore the same horned helmet her mother once did.
“Hi, Partner,” Shellgirl waved a hand at them, a concerned look on her face. Her orc friend nodded respectfully at Basil. “Did you find any other survivors?”
“No,” Basil replied sadly. “I checked the cave you indicated but found it empty. Your gremlin and hobgoblin friends left no traces behind them.”
“Pff, I say they ran,” Plato said. “We didn’t find their corpses.”
“I-I hope they’re alive.” Shellgirl sighed, having expected to hear of their demise. “They were more than customers to me.”
“Cowards,” her orc friend said with a sneer. “They ran rather than defend their home. Once a goblin, always a goblin.”
Basil couldn’t agree more. When somebody threatened you, you had to strike back even harder; or else you invited further bullying. Strength was peace. Basil had learned that lesson early in his life, and he would teach it to the Apocalypse Force the hard way.
“Orcine, was it?” Basil asked.
“Yeah, that’s my name,” she replied with a snort. “Do all ogres have poor memories?”
“Only the human ones,” Basil deadpanned. “Anyway, I’m glad you made it out alive.”
Orcine scowled and looked at the ashes with angry eyes. Shellgirl bit her slimy lip, clearly embarrassed.
Basil put the two and two together. “Where are your parents?”
“The bugs bombed our hut while dad and ma were sleeping inside,” Orcine said with sorrow that echoed Basil’s own. “If I hadn’t gone out to take a piss, I would have burned to death, too.”
It would have been the fate of Basil’s party too, if they hadn’t all been awake during the raid.
“I’m…I’m sorry to hear that.” Basil struggled to find the right words. He only had one conversation with the orc family, but it was still a tragedy to hear of their demise. “I apologize. The swarm came for us. Your family shouldn’t have been caught in the crossfire.”
“The bugs came to kill and steal,” Orcine replied angrily. “That’s what locusts like them do. Even if they had a bone to pick with you, they didn’t stop at your pretty face. They hurt my blood and for that, they have to die. I ain’t here for sympathy, humie.”
She grabbed her mace and hit the ground with it. Her strength made the earth tremble a little, drawing gazes from the rest of the crew.
“I’m here for payback.” Orcine put her weapon on her shoulder. “Shellgirl told me you intend to retaliate, so I came to assist.”
“It’s an understatement,” Basil rasped angrily. “I intend to devastate them all, the bugs and their supplier.”
Orcine raised an eyebrow. “Supplier?”
“They have a crafter,” Basil explained. He was certain of it. “You need access to specific chemicals to craft white phosphorus bombs. I don’t think the bugs knew how to make one of these devices on their own, let alone enough of them to wage a second Vietnam war.”
“Agreed, Partner,” Shellgirl replied. “The bugs have an infrastructure. Somebody built the goods, and they delivered the payload.”
“What’s Vietnam, some kind of food?” Orcine snickered. “All I hear is that somebody helped the bugs trash our place, and they’re in for an ass-whooping.”
“All signs point to Seignosse,” Basil said with a nod. “So, yeah, we’ll hit the place hard and settle the score.”
“Then count me in,” Orcine declared. “The more in a brawl, the merrier.”
“Welcome aboard.” Far from Basil’s mind to deny anyone their rightful revenge. “I can add you to my party temporarily if you want an extra Tamer Perk.”
“Sure,” Orcine replied. “I got something for you, too.”
Shellgirl clapped her hands and unstored an item from her inventory. A rough tribal garment materialized in her arms. The chest plate, arm, and leg protections were made from painted ankylosaurus armor and dark red scales. Blue thunderbird feathers covered the shoulders, pecs, and back. When Basil touched the armor, he felt a slight current of electricity pass in his twitching fingers.
Dinothunder Mantle
Family: Clothing (Armor).
Quality: B
Effect 1: [Lightning Rod]: Grants Immunity to [Lightning] and Lightning attacks affecting the wearer recharges their SP instead of inflicting damage.
Effect 2: Boosts the power of Physical attacks by 20%.
Effect 3: [Unused].
A garment made from Thunderbird feathers and dinosaur scales. If you haven’t stood naked in the middle of a thunderstorm to catch the fire-in-the-skies, then you’re not man enough to wear it.
As this clothing is made from monster skins that you have personally slain, Dinothunder Mantle is compatible with Berserker.
“It’s great work,” Basil said. The craftsmanship was rough around the edges, but of excellent manufacture nonetheless. “Your parents completed it before their deaths?”
“They died first, but I completed it myself,” Orcine replied. Her lips pursed into a grin showcasing her sharp canines. “Consider it a trade for the new Perk.”
“Come on, Partner, put the merchandise on!” Shellgirl encouraged Basil. “Make us wet with envy.”
Basil ignored her particularly poor turn of phrase and put the armor over his clothes. It was surprisingly light for clothing made of dinosaur scales. Basil suspected the armor distributed the weight across his body to make it easier to wear.
Once he had put the armor on, Basil glanced at his reflection in the river. Finding something missing in it, he unstored his halberd and adopted a barbarian warrior pose. His mirrored self oozed testosterone.
Perfect.
“How do I look?” Basil asked his crew.
“Like half like a bird,” Plato taunted him. “It’s not a good thing.”
“Don’t listen to him, Boss, you look great,” Bugsy cheered him.
Rosemarine nodded in support. “When you ride me to battle, Mister, we will bring about the end times.”
“Kui good,” Kuikui encouraged Basil. “Kui better with feathers.”
“Now strip!” Shellgirl whistled, helped by Orcine. “Show us the abs!”
As every good rockstar did, Basil made himself more desirable by denying his fangirls’ wishes.
A shadow passed over his head. Basil half-expected an Apollyon drone to attack the party again, but instead, Vasi landed her flying broomstick in the ashen clearing. The witch examined Basil head to toe with a coy smirk on her face.
“The mantle looks good on you,” she complimented him. “I love it.”
“Thank you,” Basil replied politely. “What about your hut?”
Vasi let out a long, tired sigh. “They thoroughly burned it. My potions, my books, my research…all gone.”
“Even the berry juices?” Shellgirl asked in horror. As Vasi nodded sadly, her clam mimic friend clenched her fists in rage. “These savages don’t respect anything!”
“I guess that I am officially homeless.” Vasi locked eyes with Basil. “I humbly request a place under your giant shell.”
“You will have it.” Basil cleared his throat in embarrassment. “I…apologize.”
“You apologize?” She chuckled. “For what, my hut’s destruction? It was beyond you.”
“For adding you to my party,” Basil clarified. “I know you didn’t want to and you agreed under duress.”
“Oh, that?” Vasi waved it off. “I would have minded if you didn’t do it to save my life. It would be terribly ungrateful of me to hold it against you.”
Basil suddenly realized why he appreciated her so much: she was the perfect neighbor, forgiving and helpful. “Glad we’re even then,” he said. “I’ll remove you from the party, so you aren’t beholden to me anymore.”
“I would rather not.” To Basil’s surprise, Vasi shook her head. “Actually, I would like to stay in it long-term if that’s possible.”
Basil observed the witch as if she had grown a second head. Did yesterday’s injury give her amnesia? “A day ago, you would rather have died than suggest it.”
“A day ago you hadn’t saved my life, Basil,” Vasi replied with a deadpan voice. “This world is dangerous, and while I prefer to keep to myself…teamwork is indeed the best survival strategy.”
“Please, Partner, say yes!” Ever the merchant, Shellgirl immediately lobbied to get her friend into the group. “We’ll crush it!”
“We do lack a flyer and magical artillery,” Plato said before glaring at Kuikui. “Since that one can’t fly.”
“Kui flies!” the velociraptor protested. “One day!”
“The new Perk you gave me is simply too good to pass up, handsome,” Vasi added. “Come on, check it out. I’m sure you’ll find it useful to you, too.”
Basil immediately checked his party’s status screen. A short reading of the witch’s new ability enlightened him.
Hag Coven: If Vasilisa is in a party that includes at least two other members capable of casting Witchcraft Spells, whether they are Players or Monsters, then she can form a coven with them. A coven’s members can intuitively cast unique Witchcraft group spells, receive a +10% bonus to crafting potions and magical items per coven member, and can cast spells at half the SP cost. As the Tamer who awakened Vasilisa’s Perk, Basil Bohen can fit in as a placeholder in her coven even if he cannot cast Witchcraft spells.
“So, I count as…” Basil scoffed, “what, a witch doctor?”
You do not meet the prerequisites for the [Witch Doctor] spellcaster class.
Of course.
“Vasi, we don’t have anybody capable of casting Witchcraft spells,” Basil pointed out. “You won’t benefit from that Perk.”
“Yet,” Vasi replied with confidence. “Give it time. The odds of one of your pets learning spellcasting are better than me finding two other witches willing to form a party with me.”
“Oh, you think I could become a sea witch?” Shellgirl asked with enthusiasm. “I could enter the hex market then!”
“Mayhaps we can start a partnership,” Vasi mused with a chuckle. “I curse them, you sell the cures.”
“Mmm…unethical but profitable…” Shellgirl put a finger on her chin. “Tempting, tempting…”
“The problem is that our group is far too large,” Basil pointed out. With parties having a limit of six, Vasi’s inclusion meant excluding another member. He quickly figured out a solution. “Rosemarine, you will form a secondary party with House Garden for the moment.”
“I will lead the vanguard and eat the enemies’ children!” Rosemarine boasted. “We will fertilize our roots with blood!”
“We shall protect the queen with our lives, King Basil,” Ghostie Pumpkin swore to Basil. All the vegetables knelt before him and pledged an oath to defend Rosemarine to the last.
“By the way, I took a detour north to scout our attackers,” Vasi said. “I saw very few drones patrolling the skies. Far too few of them.”
“They probably threw all their cannon fodder at us,” Plato guessed with a nod. “It’s what I would do in their place. Let the minions do the work and only get off my cushion once I run out of them.”
Vasi nodded in agreement. “With the swarm’s losses, only a token force is left to defend the dungeon.”
“For now,” Shellgirl replied grimly. “The dungeon will have created new monsters to pick up the slack in days.”
“We need to strike them quickly anyway,” Vasi said. “Samhain is days ahead, and I need the dungeon for my ritual.”
“So, what do we do, Boss?” Bugsy asked his leader. “We attack the dungeon, run the ritual, and then blow up the place?”
“We won’t destroy the dungeon,” Basil said.
All eyes turned in his direction.
“We won’t?” Bugsy asked in surprise.
“We will exterminate all the bugs inside its walls and conquer the place,” Basil said with surprising serenity. Now that the berserk rush of adrenaline had run out, his mood had settled from violently angry to quiet hatefulness. “We will claim the server and use it to form a Guild of our own. According to the System, it will allow us to create interlocked parties. It’ll make it easier for us to level up and organize.”
“But…Boss…” Bugsy snapped his mandibles in incomprehension. “Last time we destroyed the Ogre Den because you didn’t want to face raiders. If we conquer a dungeon, we will have to defend it. The Apocalypse Force will try to take it back.”
“I know.” Basil smirked cruelly. “I’m counting on it.”
It would give him many opportunities to bleed them out.
With his back turned on the stream, Basil faced his allies. He had rehearsed his speech in his head since the raid’s end, and he finally had the audience he needed.
“So far, I’ve been trying to follow our Lord Jesus Christ’s example,” he said after clearing his throat. “Keep to myself, turn the other cheek, let bygones be bygones. Forgive and forget.”
Basil thought that by minding his own business, the various factions vying for control of the Earth would leave him alone. He had been mistaken.
“But by focusing too much on the New Testament, I forgot the Old one’s fundamentals.” Basil clenched his fist. “For God taught us a very good lesson when he razed Sodom and Gomorrah for their sins: that when faced with unrepentant wickedness, fire and brimstone really are the solution. The Lord didn’t reward Satan’s cruelty with ice cream, but by throwing him into a lake of fire to suffer forever. We’ll follow his example with the fiends of the Apocalypse Force.”
Yesterday’s fireworks would look like embers compared to the devastation to come. The Horsemen thought they brought the apocalypse to Earth? Basil would show them a real armageddon.
“You girls,” Basil waved a hand at a clueless Orcine and Vasi. “You girls have been excellent neighbors. You’ve respected my people’s rights and boundaries, so I can’t quite call what will follow the Third Neighborhood War. It would be a misnomer.”
He would settle for a grand crusade instead.
“I, Basil Jean-François Bohen, son of Dragan and Aleksandra Bohen, I hereby swear a blood oath before our Lord Jesus Christ!” Basil shouted at the rising dawn. “The Apocalypse Force has declared war upon me, as did the Unity before them! They’ve burned my home, hurt my friends and family, and destroyed my Nintendo Switch! I shall not rest until I have avenged this insult a hundredfold!”
Basil cut his palm open with his halberd, letting his blood drip into the river before his team’s astonished eyes.
“I shall be a plague upon their houses!” he snarled. “The ten plagues of Egypt rolled into one, and then some! I will be the flood, the scourge of God! I will crush them as Michael once cast Satan down from heaven! I will drag the Horsemen from their mounts and make bags out of dragonlord scales! Yes, I shall not rest until I have driven off the Apocalypse Force and Unity from my world! Only then, when the holy land of Earth is finally cleansed of hostile invaders, will I finally lay down my halberd and rebuild my house!”
He would kick all the unruly neighbors from Earth and enjoy a quiet neighborhood at last.
“I hereby declare the Great Neighborhood Crusade…” Basil slammed the ground with his halberd’s shaft. “Open!”
A long silence followed his declaration. Vasi broke it by clapping modestly, clearly at a loss at how to react to Basil’s oath of vengeance. Bugsy had tears in his eyes, Rosemarine salivated at the thought of slaughter to come, and Shellgirl glanced at her teammates trying to figure out the best answer to the speech.
“So hardcore,” Orcgirl whispered in amazement. “Can I swear vengeance, too? I can cut off my pinkie for drama; it will grow back!”
“Kui first!” Kuikui bit his wing faster and whined. “Kui hurt!”
“If you want me to cook dinner tonight, you will all swear,” Basil warned his team. His declaration was met with groans, but he ignored them. “This is non-negotiable.”
“Sure,” Plato said, raising his rapier and prickling the tip of his thumb with it. “I usually use hairballs for this, but after what happened yesterday…I’ll make an exception.”
Basil nodded sharply and stared at the sunny sky. He had unearthed the war axe and would carry out his vengeance to its final conclusions. His peaceful, homesteady days were over.
Now was the time for bloodshed.
The path ahead was clear. He would wreck the Seignosse dungeon for revenge, and then travel to Bordeaux. He needed to check on Neria, to find out Kalki’s true identity. Only then would he have a chance to return the world to normalcy and return to his peaceful existence.
Basil would get to the bottom of the Trimurti System’s mystery.
No matter the cost.
