Doom System Survivor: A LitRPG Apocalypse, page 20
Hiro also noticed something else as he waited for his time to start again. Blood now ran down The Mad Butcher’s chainsaws, and it wasn’t Hiro’s blood. The Bleed damage, even if Samuel only struck him once, is doing its job!
“You good?” Samuel called over to him.
“I’m good!” Hiro said, his voice partially muffled by the gauze.
“Looks like that’s working. If you can take the bugger on your right, I’ll hit the one on the left and try to get another hit on the Mad Butcher.”
“Okay!”
Their time started again, and Hiro drove his sword into the country club henchman’s stomach.
-125 HP!
Critical hit!
He pulled his blade out and sent it in again with the time he had remaining, killing him.
Meanwhile, Samuel rushed forward in a blaze of cloaked movement. He decapitated the final remaining henchman and managed to get a small strike in on The Mad Butcher, which compounded the Bleed damage.
The Mad Butcher orchestrated a complete spin, his chainsaws hitting Hiro and Samuel.
-49 HP! -51 HP! -38 HP! -53 HP!
The miniboss jumped back, and just at the moment that the Bleed damage caused his health bar to hit the halfway point, a transformation took place.
The plastic around The Mad Butcher’s face split open, and the man released a cloud of green mist.
[The Mad Butcher is now 10 percent stronger.]
[You have been infected with typhoid fever.]
Ah, fuck, Hiro thought as dizziness washed over him, his vision blurring. This was followed by an intense headache that felt as if a vice were tightening around his skull. Even though he was frozen, the blue bar slowly depleting, Hiro began to shiver.
“Ugghhh,” he lamented, gauze still shoved in his mouth as his stomach began to churn.
“Bloody typhoid fever?” Samuel gritted his teeth, his face a mask of pain. “Let’s give the fucker all we got!”
Hiro glanced at The Mad Butcher’s health bar. I could try {Blade Whirlwind}, but he’s close now, and if I move fast enough…
His eyes jumped to his Buster Kunai, which was now on the ground near one of the collapsed henchmen. He could see it in his head now—two strikes, jump toward his Roulette Accessory, and try to throw it at the Butcher in the allotted time.
He knew his marks. He instinctively knew where to move. He just needed to execute it.
Hiro ignored his pounding headache and his increasingly failing vision as he lunged forward, where he slashed at The Mad Butcher twice and threw himself to the side.
He hit the ground and tossed the Buster Kunai, which grazed across his opponent’s back as Samuel swooped in for an epic attack that saw him spinning wildly, hitting the Butcher with a number of rapidfire strikes.
He too hit the ground opposite Hiro as The Mad Butcher brought his whirring chainsaws to the ready.
Hiro could barely focus on the man’s health bar now, but he did see that it was flashing.
The Mad Butcher turned to him, made like he was going to leap into the air only to throw his head back, cough blood, and fall to his knees.
His death rattle filled the cavernous space as he died. “You are marked…”
[A Revenant has fallen.]
Revenant? The fever went away in an instant, and Hiro’s health bar disappeared. He spit out what was left of the quickly dissolving gauze and got to his feet as he received a litany of prompts.
You have new followers!
Level up!
Skill level up!
Sword Proficiency, D-Rank > C-Rank
“We fucking did it!” Samuel cried as Hiro looked down at his katana. A black rune formed at the top of the handle.
Unique Item: {Rune of the Reverse Blade}
Rank: F
Type: Attack/Area of Effect
Upgrade: 0/10
Description: Eschew obfuscation. De-escalation through escalation. Collateral damage. Disappear for a month with these three concepts to become the most attractive man in the room. Embrace your masculinity, and control the masses through testosterone-fueled futsal! Citizens United!
Futsal’s origins date back to 1930, when Juan Carlos Ceraini created a version of indoor football for the YMCA of Montevideo, Uruguay.
Years later, Sam Smith-Johnson, a CIA operative embedded in nearby Las Piedras, used the sport to rapidly increase the testosterone levels of Uruguayans, creating a super soldier capable of obliterating South American drug cartels through a program known as the Crowdstrike International Futsal Update, or CIFU.
Just as it seemed like the CIA-backed futsal super soldiers were going to put an end to the narcos for good, a narco who had trained in Iga, Japan survived a traumatic brain injury caused by a flying pair of cleats. The acquired savant syndrome that followed allowed him to invent a new, deadly way to hold his katana.
Activating this rune transforms your sword into a curved, scimitar-like blade to be held in an inverted grip, unleashing devastating backhand strikes.
Hiro’s surprise continued as he received a new One-Hit Wonder.
One-Hit Wonder: {GoFundMerc}
Rank: S
Upgrade: N/A
Description: Upon the completion of the Peach Garden Oath, Moo Deng spent sixteen years as part of the Sworn Brotherhood (jiebai, 结拜) cultivating an inner peace through psychic scaling systems (xīnlíng liànghuà xìtǒng, 心灵量化系统) to prevent the Dragon Fang clan of the Western Lands from opening a portal that would bring the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation back to life.
After drinking yellow wine (huangjiu, 黄酒), only to discover it was actually sectmate Jai’s piss, Moo Deng gave up his practice and hired a hitman by the name of Ghost to kill his sectmate.
A lot of shit happened after that, enough to fill several scrolls and act as a cautionary tale to countless generations as to why someone shouldn’t piss-prank a sectmate, not quite Journey to the West and more of a cautionary tale about the woes of surprising someone with a golden shower.
The too-long-didn’t-read version is that Jai died at the hands of Ghost, the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation came back to life, and Moo Deng was fellated and then eaten by a necrotic succubi, where he was later reborn as a popular baby hippo.
GoFundMerc will allow you to summon the assassin named Ghost to kill any opponent you may have, from a Hunter to another Survivor. You will not gain any loot or Soul Essence for this kill.
“Shit, mate, looks like we got an assassin on speed dial,” Samuel said as he caught his breath.
Hiro’s phone buzzed.
“Mine is going off too,” Samuel said as he slipped his hand into his cloak.
Hiro took out his phone and noticed the Doom System’s countdown timer was currently missing. Weird, he thought as he scanned the text from his Companion.
“Seriously?” Hiro looked up and found that Samuel had read the same message. It was in the Australian’s eyes, the way the man slowly brought his cloak around.
Hiro placed his hand on the hilt of his katana, ready to do battle.
32
WELCOME TO HELL’S KITCHEN
Samuel and Hiro stood across from one another, both poised to strike until the Australian laughed. His shoulders relaxed. “It really isn’t worth it.”
Hiro didn’t reply.
“Look, mate, we may not even make it to the Third Interim.” Samuel laughed again. “So my suggestion, if you’re willing to hear me out, is that we wait until then to do anything rash.”
Hiro let out a deep breath and relaxed. Yet he still kept his hand on the hilt of his blade. “Sorry.”
“Not your fault,” Samuel said as he approached the exit, his back to Hiro. “We’ve all been fucked in the head since the Doom System showed up, yeah? We’re all edgy. So there’s that. Your first One-Hit Wonder?” he asked, referring to the skill they had both received that allowed them to send an assassin out to kill an enemy.
“My second.”
“That’s the thing with these One-Hit Wonder skills. You sort of want to use them, yeah? But then you also think you should hold them until shit has really hit the fan.” Samuel swept the red curtain aside and stepped out into the streets. “Ah, Christ.”
What the hell? Hiro thought upon joining the man.
The sky over the city was different—still a brooding reddish gray with hints of a crimson cast from the eclipse, yet now it was filled with eerie red rowboats suspended in the air. There had to be hundreds of them.
Hiro got out his phone, and his eyes bulged beneath his mask.
01:10:15:29
01:10:15:28
01:10:15:27
“Seven hours.”
“What now?” Samuel asked as he continued to examine the rowboats.
“Seven hours passed in there.”
Samuel checked his phone to confirm. “Ah, hell. The Doom System didn’t tell us that little tidbit. We’re marked, and we lost seven hours.”
“What’s with the boats?” Hiro asked his Companion as he gazed at the numerous vessels hovering in the sky above.
He showed the response to Samuel.
“Bloody great. We have monsters, Hunters, Sentries, Revenants, and now, or should I say, and soon, Spectators. Christ. That’s the tragic beauty in all this. All I really have to do is survive. But to survive later, I need to get stronger now.”
“It’s like saving for retirement.”
Samuel snorted at this suggestion. “Yeah, I guess it’s like that. Only, instead of battling life, disease, and old age, we have to face off against a bloody maniac with chainsaw hands only to step out of the madness and be told that more maniacs will be gunning for us in ten hours. It does make me think, though. Maybe there’s a smarter way to do this.”
“Power through?”
Samuel nodded. “Power through until about, I don’t know, twenty-four hours until the gates open, then rest. Wake up, see what the Spectators are all about, lay low if need be and head to the gate to go in fully charged. I don’t know about you, mate, but I’m tired now.”
“Same,” Hiro said.
“It’s like the Doom System wants us to sleep or something. Did you get that sense the last time you went out?”
Hiro thought back to his stay in Billionaire’s Row, where he had grown tired after the random surge of rage he felt due to {Lupine Shift}. “I did, now that you mention it. It was like the Doom System slipped me a sleeping pill.”
Samuel adjusted his bucket hat. “It makes me think we need to visit this merchant I met just before I headed here. She had energy drinks.”
“Like… energy drinks from before?”
“You mean the crazy ones you Americans drink that are full of shit banned in other countries? Yeah, ha, they looked like them, but not exactly that. These ones seemed more homemade. The merchant had a variety, though. I think she said she had one that can help you sleep as well. Weren’t cheap either. But we just got our follower count doubled. I should be sitting at close to ten thousand.”
“Close to eight for me.”
“Plenty,” Samuel said. “Well, what do you think? You want to head there? Just a few blocks away, really, closer to Hell’s Kitchen. You got some sort of flying ability?”
“Something like that.”
“I can move in quick bursts with this cloak. So it shouldn’t be too hard for us to get there.”
“I needed more gauze anyway.”
“Love definitely had some of that.”
“Love?”
“That’s her name, or that’s what she told me, the merchant. We could go there and then part ways. If you’re like me, you want the potential bonus for killing these fuckers on your own.”
“There is one group that I’ve tried to tackle twice in Bryant Park,” Hiro said once they were on the move. They reached their first rooftop, the city streets a disaster below. “Just a heads-up.”
“Yeah? What about them?”
Hiro scanned the streets below as he spoke. “Triplet Bunnies. They are high-level Hunters that wear leather rabbit masks, the ears of which morph into tentacle swords. They’re fast. I tried killing them with another Survivor, and we failed. Or, at least we mostly failed. I think we injured one of them. They’re in Bryant Park. I’d avoid them if you’re out hunting solo.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. You weren’t planning on giving them another go, were you?” Samuel flashed to another rooftop, and Hiro joined him.
“I absolutely want to deal with them before the gate opens.”
“In that case, we might need to set a time to meet there and handle the bunnies.” Samuel shook his head. “Weird saying it like that.”
Soon, Hiro saw the golden beam that indicated there was a merchant in the vicinity.
He followed Samuel through a shattered window and into a cluttered room to find a woman in flowing robes stitched with peacock feathers seated on a purple sofa. She wore a beaded hat that would have looked appropriate on a flapper.
“Hello, Survivors,” she said in between puffs from a black cigarette holder. She coughed. “Welcome to Hell’s Kitchen.”
The weird grin on Samuel’s face reflected the light coming through the only window that wasn’t shattered. “Hi, Love. We’re here to stock up. This is Hiro. Hiro, Love; Love, Hiro; Hiro, Love; Love, Hiro. You two get the picture.”
“Nice to meet you.” The woman extended a frail hand to Hiro. Each of the nails at the end of her bony fingers was painted to resemble a peacock’s tail feathers.
After they shook hands, she flicked ash from her cigarette to the ground, stood, and motioned for them to follow her into the kitchen, which was lit by a faint glow. “Hurry.”
No health bar; she’s not an enemy. Could this be a trap? Hiro wondered. While he got strange vibes from her, this didn’t appear to be the case, especially as Samuel gladly followed her into a galley kitchen, where supplies were laid out.
“Do you have vape cartridges?” Hiro asked. “I could use a Bleed or Corruption cartridge.”
“Bleed, I got. Don’t have the other one. I only have Bleed and Anti-Fear,” she said as she finished her cigarette, the woman sucking on the end of the holder a good thirty seconds as the cancer stick turned to ash.
“Which is?”
“Have you been hit by Fear yet?”
“I have not.”
“Let me see your vape pen.”
Hiro hesitated.
“It’s fine,” Samuel told him. “I trust her. Sort of.”
Love grinned at Hiro, revealing a set of tobacco-yellow teeth at odds with the gaudy makeup she wore. “I want to see its grade.”
Hiro got the vape pen out. Rather than hand it to her, he set it on the counter. The merchant leaned over to examine it. “Kiri Yōso Vape Pen, Grade C. You won’t be able to use something like Anti-Fear until it is Grade B, which will allow you to use different buff cartridges.”
“Like healing?”
“Healing, other enhancements. If you can’t already tell, I specialize in buffs. Some merchants are just merchants. Others have specializations and can upgrade your items.”
“Others take cash,” Hiro said, recalling Penny, the strange merchant he’d met that was wearing the prom sash.
“Correct. If you want Anti-Fear or any other buff cartridge, you need to upgrade your vape pen. Do that and return.”
“Do you know where I could do that?” Hiro asked as he put his vape pen away. He went ahead and set a {Beacon} so he could find her later.
“Closer to Central Park. Subway Station near Columbus Circle.”
“There used to be some restaurants down there.”
“Still are,” she said.
“So I do that, and I return to you.”
“Correct. Moving on. What else do you need?”
“I came for the energy drinks,” Samuel told Love. “He’s interested as well and needs a roll of gauze.”
“Healing gauze it is.” Love got out a thick roll of gauze. The merchant turned to the refrigerator, opened it, and began placing off-brand energy drinks on the counter-top. They resembled normal energy drinks, yet something seemed off about them, like they were homemade in some way.
Munster? Pink Bull? Smellcius? Poxstar? Haterade? Smoke Zero? Hiro looked at Samuel incredulously.
“I know, right? I pounded one of the Pink Bulls before our little sample sale.” Samuel snorted at the way that sounded. “Gave me a hella boost to Stamina. Plus one full point for the duration of a fight. That’s how I was moving around so quickly. I didn’t even check the other drinks, but they’re bound to be rippers. So what do ya reckon, Hiro? Are we getting smashed on post-apocalyptic energy drinks, or what?”
33
POST-APOCALYPTIC ENERGY DRINKS SHOULD COME WITH WARNING LABELS
“These are the ones I have right now,” the merchant named Love said once she finished placing the drinks on the countertop. “They’re sort of cold.”
“Didn’t you tell me you had a bev that would help me sleep?” Samuel asked her. “I guess that wouldn’t make it an energy drink, maybe an anti-energy drink, but you know what I mean.”
Love, who was just about to light another cigarette, took a blue can out of the fridge. Like the others, it was labeled professionally, the words Knock-Out Punch emblazoned on the side of the can in vibrant lettering. “Drink it, and you will rest for an hour. Just one hour. But it will feel like you had a solid eight hours of sleep. Just know that you will experience something like a hangover when you wake up.”
“Yeah, that’s what we take, mate,” Samuel told Hiro. “We drink these and sleep for a bit, then we’re back out there. We can part ways, of course.”
