Doom System Survivor: A LitRPG Apocalypse, page 28
He reached out to the node of light.
One-Hit Wonder: {Scania the Piss Disc Mimic}
Rank: A
Upgrade: N/A
Description: Have you ever visited Scandinavia and wondered where the name came from? Wonder no more!
Pliny the Elder, famed Roman geographer and author of Naturalis Historia, once mistakenly identified the southernmost tip of Sweden as an island, referring to it as “Scania” after a local tribe that inhabited the region.
Nearly two thousand years later, a legendary Spawn/Thor crossover penned by Todd MacFarlane and Frank Miller revealed that the Scania tribe was actually named after a particular yellow mimic that once frequented the southern coast of Sweden.
Known historically as the “Piss Disc Mimic,” or more accurately, “Mīgan Diskr Hermir” (Mīgan from the Proto-Germanic mīgana which meant “to urinate”; Diskr from the later Scandinavian word for “plate”; Hermir from the word hermiz, meaning “the one who mimics”), this One-Hit Wonder will allow you to call upon Scania the Piss Disc Mimic to aid you in a single battle.
The mimic will exhibit all of your traits and fight with the full extent of your current abilities, turning the tide in your favor when you need it most.
“I get a mimic? Nice,” Hiro said under his breath as Soul Essence rushed into him.
He bounced away and made it up to the place where he had left Bianca.
Hiro almost apologized to her but decided otherwise as he lifted the teenager back into his arms and turned toward the direction of Central Park.
He moved higher, hoping to avoid any more confrontations.
There.
He spotted one of the enormous crows to the east, the monster distracted by something as Hiro traveled past Billionaire’s Row and finally landed in front of one of Central Park’s numerous entrances.
He kept his eyes peeled on his surroundings as he moved deeper into the park, to the space where the giant skeletal crocodile monster had opened up the hole in the ground leading to the Central Park Catacombs.
“I’m sorry I can’t find a better place to bury you,” he told Bianca after he jumped down into the hole. Hiro placed her there, thought about covering her body with dirt and stone, but figured she wouldn’t like that.
He was just about to spring back up into the park and see what he could get into next when an idea came to him. The idea came so strong, so fast, that he felt staggered by its implications.
Hiro whipped out his phone, his hand suddenly shaky. “Are you there?” he asked his Companion.
The text took shape in a matter of seconds.
“I want to speak to the Doom System. I have a complaint.”
46
BIRTH OF A VENGEFUL GHOST
Hiro stared at his phone screen, ignoring the countdown timer as he waited for his Companion to reply. “I want to speak to the Doom System,” he said again, after it had been a minute or so. “I have a complaint.”
The words appeared faster than they ever had before.
Hiro bit his lip.
There were so many things he wanted to say at that moment, so many ways he wanted to rage at the mysterious Doom System and what it had done to so many people. But he had to keep his cool.
Three years on a stone, Hiro thought, reminded of his grandfather’s words that called for patience and understanding before taking action. Ask the right questions. Through this phrase, Hiro hoped to emulate his father’s general decision-making process, even if it didn’t always work out this way.
He decided to try a different angle. “Would I be able to pass a message along to the Doom System?”
“A suggestion for…” Hiro’s eyes darted left and right as he thought of a way to frame this. “For the Second Interim. First, will there be an update? I should start there first.”
“All right, then here is my message: as part of this update, you, err, the Doom System, should have the bodies of Survivors fade away after their Soul Essence leaves them like the Hunters and Sentries do. Humans revere their dead. This shit, this game, is already hard enough without having to handle a dead body of a fellow Survivor.”
“No,” Hiro said, startled at how quickly the reply had come. He got this strange sense that his Companion, whom he assumed was the Doom System itself, was contemplating what he said in the minute or so that passed. Finally, the text appeared.
Hiro reached for his backpack and stopped as the hairs stood to attention on the back of his neck. Wait, he thought. There are no catacombs beneath Central Park. If I use the teddy bear, I’ll be crushed by the dirt.
Fuck you. Hiro stuffed his phone away, and he bounced back up to Central Park.
It became clear in his mind as he took in his surroundings that he needed to be careful with this little discovery, especially in the not-so-clever way the Doom System had just tried to murder him by offering him access to Chronokuma.
Figuring he would sacrifice some followers, Hiro turned back toward Hell’s Kitchen, where he had met the merchant named Love. She has vape cartridges and energy drinks. Seems like a good enough destination, and I can see what I run into along the way.
His phone buzzed.
Hiro hesitated.
It buzzed again.
He gave in and read the text.
“I don’t need to visit the past right now,” Hiro said as he naturally moved into a crouched position, his senses tingling. He placed his phone on the ground, swiveled his backpack around, and put his Hyottoko mask on, something he’d meant to do before engaging Atlas.
Hiro glanced down at his phone to see more text scrawled across the screen.
A bolt of purple lightning struck the ground about thirty feet away from him. A plume of fire erupted, producing a deep crimson smoke that mirrored the small rowboats that hovered over the city.
Hiro placed his hand on the hilt of his katana as he saw the form of a masked man appear in the red smoke, his silhouette entirely black.
Description: The story of infamous samurai-turned-future-fashion-mogul Taira no Masakado truly began when Emperor Suzaku placed his severed head on public display in Osaka’s marketplace, condemning his spirit to wander the mortal realm and forever denied salvation.
Years later, Louis Vuitton, with characteristic French disdain for superstition, crafted a trunk made of poplar wood and canvas with plans to capture and hold the cursed head.
Vuitton embarked on a journey to Japan to retrieve it. Upon arrival, the Issey Miyake clan warned him that Masakado’s head had brought ruin to Osaka through its terrible gaze and rumors that the head turned into a murderhobo at night.
Unimpressed, Vuitton approached the staked head, the eyes of which immediately bulged at the sight of his nicely made leather trunk.
“It needs a monogram logo,” Masakado hissed, his breath so foul it brought instant death to those that had joined Vuitton. Sensing an opportunity, Vuitton returned to Paris with Masakado’s severed head, where the two officially established the Louis Vuitton brand, debuting the damier pattern.
For years, Vuitton and Masakado ruled the designer clothing market until fast fashion, spearheaded by brands like Zara, H&M, Urban Outfitters, and, ironically, Japan’s very own Uniqlo, threatened the sanctity of their overpriced luxury goods empire.
After a secretive board meeting, it was decided: Masakado’s head would be reunited with his body, and he would purge the world of fast fashion.
And you, Survivor, are standing in his way.
Masakado stepped out of the red fog, the samurai covered in head-to-toe monogrammed armor, including his mask, which was adorned with large golden teeth. His health bar formed, and a red Sphere of Influence took shape, preventing Hiro from escaping.
Masakado drew an enormous odachi from the air above his head and charged.
Hiro dodged left and called his phantom demon cats to his aid.
With a single swipe from his enormous sword, Masakado disintegrated the cats, who disappeared in a puff of smoke.
Needing a moment to get his bearings, Hiro quickly sat and crossed his legs beneath him as Masakado approached. Casting {Sacra Limina} spawned a protective barrier around him, one that would prevent Masakado from attacking him.
Hiro kept his katana in his lap, his hand trembling slightly as the intimidating samurai paced back and forth in front of the barrier.
After a distasteful grunt, Masakado spoke in what Hiro recognized as archaic Japanese. “Dost thou not deem thyself a foe fit for display? Why dost thou skulk in the shadows?” Masakado asked.
“I do not want to fight you,” Hiro responded in modern Japanese, which made the samurai recoil with disgust.
“Thoust speakest with the tongue of a cur! From which province dost thou hail? The north? Answer, cur!” The samurai struck Hiro’s shield with his odachi. “Disarm thy shield, cur, onmyoji, and meet your fate in honorable combat!”
“Onmyoji?” Hiro asked, not familiar with the world.
“Sorcerer! Face me with honor!” Masakado hit the protective barrier again, which caused it to spark in a way that made Hiro feel as if it wouldn’t hold much longer.
He had to believe that it would hold. Yet the Doom System controlled everything, including the sanctity of the protective barrier he had summoned.
As cautiously as ever, Hiro reached around and removed Bianca’s Fuzzy Pink Shield. He positioned this in his lap as the shield naturally attached itself to his arm. He had just been given a mimic, and he had yet to try {Kiss or Slap} or his {Edging} power.
There are still options. If I’m going to die, it’s not going to be by the blade of a goddamn samurai in Central Park.
He thought back to the description if there was something he could pull from it like he had with Art Deco Atlas.
Is Masakado… vain?
The Doom System paired the samurai with Louis Vuitton.
Had this been for a reason?
The samurai paced in front of the protective barrier in his designer clothing, the kimono beneath his monogrammed armor also with its own monogram, everything tied together by red silk cords. Even his helmet had the armor’s monogrammed design, the LV logo like a hood ornament on top.
Hiro figured it was worth a try. “You look stupid.”
Masakado stopped dead in his tracks. “Repeat thy words.”
“Your clothing looks stupid.”
“Thou wearest the mask of a clown and the rags of a beggar, yet thou hast the audacity to question my attire?” Masakado pointed his odachi at Hiro. “Cur.”
“The quality is poor. The design is terrible,” he said in Japanese. “You are a shame to your…” Hiro was about to say family, but then he remembered something about samurai. “You are a shame to your daimyo.”
“You dare?”
Hiro grinned as a word they used at maid cafes in Japan came to him. It was outdated, but it would do. “A disgrace to your goshujin-sama. By coming here, you have brought dishonor to your clan, your goshujin-sama, and your future generations.”
The samurai stopped pacing at the mention of being a disgrace to his lord.
Hiro knew he had hit the sweet spot once Masakado dropped his massive odachi. The samurai fell to his knees and drew a short, tanto blade.
“I have brought dishonor!” Masakado drove the blade into his stomach, quickly disemboweling himself.
He lurched forward and hit the ground.
No Soul Essence poured into Hiro.
This should have been his first indication not to dissolve his protective barrier. Yet Hiro was so surprised that his plan had worked that he did so anyway.
He stood, only then realizing that Masakado’s health bar was at the halfway point.
With a sudden jerk, Masakado’s head detached from his body, pulling a long spine with it, one that quickly grew in length until there was something serpentine about it. A clawed arm tore from the spine and picked up the samurai’s massive odachi.
47
MASAKADO’S PHANTOM ODACHI
“Foolish peasant, you court death! Filthy cur!” Masakado’s severed head barked. “My garments no longer bind me. The head shall finish what the body could not!”
Hiro braced himself behind Bianca’s Fuzzy Pink Shield as it shot fabric tentacles at Masakado’s severed head. The monster’s spine shifted right to avoid the tendrils, yet some still managed to strike it, attach themselves to vertebra and latch on until Masakado severed them.
Still holding his katana, Hiro pointed his finger at Masakado’s masked face and fired at it with his finger gun.
Pew!
“Dost thou think to blind me!?” Masakado roared as he whipped his spine tail around to beat at the shield’s tendrils. With his one good arm, he stabbed the odachi into the ground, sending a ripple of energy forward that forced Hiro to dive right.
Pew! Pew!
Hiro kept shooting at Masakado’s mask, especially after he noticed that part of it was now chipped. Each subsequent shot seemed to take more of the mask away.
Pew! Pew! Pew!
“Argh!” Masakado bellowed as his mask shattered. “You cheat! You cur!”
The samurai struck the ground again and used his odachi to lunge forward.
Hiro bounced backward to avoid Masakado’s next strike. He couldn’t use {Lupine Shift}. If he used {Kiss or Slap}, he ran the risk of replenishing Masakado’s health bar. He also didn’t want to use any One-Hit Wonders, not when his opponent was at half health.
{Edging}? Hiro thought as he avoided Masakado’s spiny tail. It was a risk, and it would mean that he needed a higher MIND stat than Masakado, but Hiro had a pretty large boost with his current loadout. It worked with Atlas; maybe there’s a chance here? If not, spam him with attacks until he goes down!
As he reached a new clearing, Hiro turned back to Masakado and cast {Edging}. He then shouldered up behind his pink shield, not sure of how the samurai would react. Much to his surprise, and soon, his delight, the Roulette Skill sent the samurai into a frenzy.
Masakado bowed repeatedly, his spine cracking, the samurai cursing his enemies, shrieking in Japanese. “Kisama no chi de kono tochi o akaku somete yaru!”
The samurai screamed about how he would stain the land with his blood, the rest of his words hard to parse. His frenzy reached a new level, one in which he dropped his odachi and began slapping his spine against the ground.
Hiro saw his opening and took it. He rushed toward Masakado and severed the samurai’s head from his spine with one perfectly timed attack.
[A Revenant has fallen.]
Cheers erupted.
Level up!
Skill level up!
Sword Proficiency, D-Rank > C-Rank
You have new followers!
Hiro’s phone buzzed, and as Soul Essence rushed into him, he checked to see what his companion said.
I gained another level? Hiro thought.
The text continued.
“What are my odds of that, anyway?”
Rather than go down that rabbit hole, Hiro glanced over to the giant sword, which was stabbed into the ground. It was easily a meter in length, and while it wasn’t quite the same size as his Buster Kunai, the odachi seemed like it would be impossible to wield.
Hiro put his katana away and approached the enormous blade.
Unique Item: {Masakado’s Phantom Odachi}
Rank: A
Upgrade: N/A
Description: Before you grab your favorite candy and dump it into a glass bowl, make sure that you have chosen only the most vibrant candies for visual impact!
These were the words etched into a human femur by the great Japanese master bladesmith and coping mechanism expert, Norimitsu Osafune, on a stormy August day in 1446.
Nearly six hundred years later, the world’s top influencers discovered Osafune’s translated text after a reverse ice bucket gender reveal challenge, sparking the trend of what we now call “trauma-dumping videos.”
Unfortunately, as these influencers soon discovered, the recipe for social media carried a hidden curse—one that Norimitsu Osafune took to the grave. For each piece of candy dropped into the bowl, each trauma uttered, each video recorded, each “like” received, Masakado’s Phantom Blade grew ever stronger…
Sheathed within the very fabric of reality, Masakado’s Phantom Blade is an optimum weapon for those who can bear the weight of its trauma.
It uses the very nature of reality as its sheath? Hiro thought back to the way Masakado had brandished it. Does that mean I can really pull it from thin air?
He hoisted the massive blade, Hiro even more surprised that he could wield it easily. He did a few twists in the air with it, the odachi about the same weight as his katana.
“Impossible,” Hiro whispered. That, or I’m getting stronger, he thought as he looked ahead to a tree stump.
Hiro used {Blade Whirlwind} with the odachi, which shredded what was left of the stump.
“Whoa.” He brought the enormous blade up, almost like he was going to rest it across his shoulders. Instead, he pressed it into reality itself, Hiro feeling as if he were placing something behind a curtain.
