Apocalypse Tamer 2: A LitRPG Adventure, page 21
part #2 of Apocalypse Tamer Series
A System notification appeared, as if to taunt Basil over his terrible mistake.
Plato the Cait Sith lost one life. Six of them remain.
“Plato!” Basil stared at his cat in utter horror. His mind acted on autopilot. “Monster Cure!”
The werebeast transformation didn’t negate his Perks, but the healing light barely closed a few of Plato’s wounds. The cat had some ribs sticking out of his fur.
“Monster Cure!” Basil cast again. Damn it, did he…did he… “Neria, is she okay? Is she…”
“It’s all right, sir, I will take care of the wounded,” Zachariel said. The angel immediately applied a hand to Plato, a holy halo covering the cat. “The others need your help.”
“He’s right, Partner,” Shellgirl said as she emerged from her hideout. To Basil’s shock, she looked neither wounded nor furious with him. A veil of water quickly washed away the claw marks on her shell. “Look!”
Basil slowly turned his head.
Vasi and Bugsy were raining fire at Tamura. The former struggled to dodge a serpent head strike and the latter coiled around another. As for Rosemarine, she was slowly emerging back from the wine Garonne, dizzy and wounded.
Basil’s eyes set on Tamura. The bastard had removed the halberd from his head.
He was smiling to himself.
The fury came back in full force, and Basil didn’t need to go berserk this time.
“Wreck him!” Shellgirl shouted.
Shellgirl’s [Motivate] buffed your accuracy and critical hits chances for five minutes.
Basil roared and charged back into the fray. He ran on four legs like a real bear, frothing at the mouth. In an instant, he had crossed the length of the bridge. Vasi had the wisdom to jump out of his path, but Tamura didn’t see him coming quickly enough.
The false god’s eyes widened in shock. “Oh—”
Basil tackled him before he could finish his sentence. His claws closed on Tamura’s back and lifted him above the ground.
“Gaia’s Ven—AH!” Tamura hissed in pain as Basil tightened his grip.
“I’ll break you in two,” Basil rasped in a low, low voice. “Like a chocolate bar.”
With one snake head immobilized by Bugsy, Tamura used the other to bite Basil’s throat. The fangs closed on his neck, but the werebear didn’t even feel it.
Fury was one hell of a painkiller.
Harming Basil’s pets and friends was horrendous enough, but making him do the deed? He wouldn’t forgive it! If anything, the blood flowing from his neck only made Basil squeeze his prey tighter. He felt scales and bones bend under his pressure.
“You’ll die if you don’t release me! We’ll both perish!” Tamura panicked. His gaze morphed into an expression of utter fear. He raised his hands to push the werebear back, to no avail. “Let go of me!”
“Bugsy,” Vasi said, a magical flame burning in her palm. “Pull.”
The centimagma moved back with one of Tamura’s snakeheads still in the throes of his mandibles. Like a man quartered, the false god was pulled into two directions. Vasi joined in the fun by blasting the serpent biting Basil’s throat with a stream of fire, cutting it off.
Within seconds, Bugsy ripped out the other and left Tamura defenseless.
“Don’t like my bear hug, asshole?” Basil rasped. His throat hurt and he felt blood dripping inside, but he didn’t lighten his grip. “I thought your children didn’t give you enough? I’m giving you the love they never did. You should be happy about it.”
“Tele…” the false god struggled to form words. “Tele…po…”
Crack!
Critical hit!
Tamura’s back broke before Basil’s resolve. His body snapped in half like a kitkat bar, both halves falling at the werebear’s feet in a shower of corrupted blood. It melted with Basil’s own as it dripped down his throat.
“My body…can’t…teleport…what is happening…” Tamura crawled on the ground, unable to fly away. Bugsy, Basil, and Vasi formed a circle around him, while Rosemarine’s shadow loomed above them all. “How can this be…this body…it can’t lose…”
“I told you, you were shortchanged.” Basil immediately found a proper way to execute Tamura: the same way he killed his victims. “Rosemarine.”
His tropidrake looked at him with curious eyes.
“Snack time,” Basil confirmed.
Rosemarine remained speechless for a few seconds. The tropidrake’s tongue stuck out of her maw. Her eyes blinked in confusion. Basil always forbade her to eat humans and although it hurt him to say it, Tamura was still one under that reptilian shell.
But since he considered himself a god allowed to dine on his fellow man, he didn’t deserve any special treatment.
Upon realizing that he was serious, Rosemarine became outright giddy. “Finally! Thank you so much, Mister!”
“You…” Tamura looked up at death’s jaws with fear and despair. “You’ll let…a beast…eat me?”
“Her mouth, too, consumes indiscriminately,” Basil taunted him as Rosemarine opened her maw wide. “You shouldn’t have made me hit my cat.”
“I’ll…I’ll pay you! Billions! Anything!” Tamura’s horror turned to spite as his prayers fell on deaf ears. “Curse you, Anton! You lied to me! Curse—”
Rosemarine grabbed both halves of Tamura with her hand and stuffed them into her mouth.
Basil watched with dark satisfaction as the tropidrake chewed a god’s flesh, grinding bones and scales under her fangs. Then she swallowed Tamura whole, scoffed as the corpse traveled down her throat, and belched in triumph. The purple sky cackled with lightning as if to echo Tamura’s death and the dark energy clouds slowly started to dissipate.
Congratulations! Your party received 645,000 EXP (56,500 for you). You gained 3 levels (total 33).
Congratulations! Rosemarine absorbed the [Essence of Dionysus]! Rosemarine unlocked a unique metamorphosis (Minimum level required: 64)!
In the end, Shinzō Tamura did not die with dignity.
CHAPTER 15
MAN VS GENERAL
Tamura’s Field effect faded away with his death.
The sky was cleared of the sinister aurora that once infested it. The red mist covering Bordeaux slowly faded away, revealing neo-classical buildings and a cathedral’s towers. The vines and Shinto archways crumbled to dust into the Garonne, whose wine current slowly returned to its natural state as a river of water.
The curse of Bordeaux had been lifted. Yet Basil couldn’t find it in himself to rest yet. His skin itched even after returning to human form and healing from his wounds.
“You’re sure he won’t eat my Rosemarine from within?” he asked Little Nessia. The young oracle and her griffin had landed on the bridge after the battle. Now they examined Rosemarine with Zachariel, to make sure Tamura wouldn’t return in any way.
“I do not detect any hint of demonic possession, sir,” Zachariel insisted. “Though I do notice that your dragon is way overdue for a baptism shot.”
“I feel warm inside, Mister,” Rosemarine rejoiced.
“The god is free,” Little Nessia added. “I don’t feel him inside your plant. His spirit was cleansed and returned to the heavens, but he left a little of himself behind.”
“Like what, a grape?” Basil asked. Would his dear tropidrake transform into a vineyard dragon? “I don’t want her to start drinking so soon. She’s not even one year old.”
“This was a gift,” Little Nessia insisted. “It would be rude to refuse it.”
“Sir, I’m afraid I know no way to remove the essence anyway,” Zachariel said. “There is no indication that it might affect her negatively either. If it does, it won’t do so until she reaches the level required for metamorphosis…which is a long time away.”
After considering the arguments, Basil conceded the angel’s point. His team struggled greatly to reach level thirty and Rosemarine wouldn’t transform until they reached twice that number. It might take years for her to reach that threshold, if at all.
As for Tamura…he indeed appeared to be dead for good in spite of his best efforts to avoid his fate.
Tamura couldn’t teleport away, although he was a faction’s core member. This had come as a surprise to both Basil and the old dickhead himself. Is there a limit on in-battle teleportation or…was he blocked from fleeing?
Basil reread his Guild’s guidelines in the Logs. As he remembered, a Boss or Guildmaster could deny a member’s teleportation back to a dungeon base. This implied someone higher than Tamura in the Metal Olympus hierarchy knowingly sabotaged him.
That kind of backstabbing disgusted Basil, although it didn’t surprise him. The board’s executives formed an alliance of convenience; if one of them hoped to become Earth’s new Overgod, it made sense to get rid of potential rivals whenever possible. That, or Anton Maxwell was cleaning up loose ends.
Basil had the feeling he could exploit this information later. It was bound to sow distrust among Metal Olympus.
Basil surveyed the area. Neria and her dogs stood in front of the dissipating fog with anxious faces, as if afraid of who or what would emerge from it. Zachariel healed their wounds, although he couldn’t regrow the maimed Doberman’s missing legs; something in the Saké Breath attack interfered with his abilities. The rest of the party formed a defensive perimeter in case any of Tamura’s monsters survived their master’s destruction.
And then there was Plato. Basil’s cat licked his fur as if he hadn’t died minutes ago. His wounds had healed, and he seemed more concerned about the wine sticking to his fur than the fact Basil killed him.
The memory of his body lying on the ground, weak and bloodied…it chilled Basil to the bone.
Plato sensed his owner’s guilty gaze and looked up at him in confusion. “What?”
“I am so, so sorry,” Basil apologized. “Plato, I—”
His cat cut him off before he could finish. “You want to make up for your heinous, treacherous deed?”
Basil closed his mouth and slowly nodded.
“Then pick me up.”
Which Basil did. The cat felt light and fragile in his hands.
“Now pet me behind the ears.”
Basil obeyed. He scratched Plato’s head as if his life depended on it.
“Do that every day for the rest of your pitiful life,” Plato purred. “And I’ll forgive you.”
“That’s…” Basil squinted, “that’s it?”
“Oh, yes, since you asked, you must rub my belly twice a day and thrice on weekends. But no more than a minute each time. I’ll count.”
“Plato, I killed you.” There, Basil had said it. “I…slammed you against the pavement.”
“It’s my third death,” Plato replied with a shrug. “The reaper was scary the first two times, but I’m used to it by now. Like a vet appointment.”
“But you don’t have a limitless number of lives.” Didn’t he realize the seriousness of the situation? “That lost life might be the one to make a difference down the line.”
“Basil, you sound like an old bachelor planning for early retirement.” His cat looked up at him with his big, beautiful yellow eyes. “What happens happens. Maybe it’s the last life I’ll ever lose. Then I’ll die of old age at a venerable twenty and revive young again.”
“Plato, how can you be so…” Basil frowned in utter confusion. He hadn’t expected this kind of reaction. “So, chill with it?
“Because I’m your best friend, Basil,” Plato replied with a deep, serious tone. “I have seen you in the worst positions imaginable. Being mind-controlled by a Jurassic Park cosplayer is a new low, but I don’t hold it against you. You’re human. It’s in your nature to fuck up.”
Basil squinted at his best friend. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to take that.”
“With grace and dignity,” Plato mocked him. “Just like that time I peed in your bed.”
Basil wished he hadn’t been reminded of that particular disaster, but Plato’s response lifted a weight off his shoulders. He valued his cat’s friendship above all else.
“I know you’re blaming yourself, but it wasn’t you.” Plato locked eyes with his companion. “Like the poison that killed Kuikui and the fire that burned our house, the fault lies with our enemies and not our inability to prevent it. If you have to blame someone, blame them.”
“I could have—”
“I could have become king of dogs with ‘coulds’ and ‘ifs’,” Plato interrupted him. “Don’t overthink it. It happened, you learned a lesson, and now you’ll take the correct course of action.”
“Which is?”
“Please don’t transform into a werebear in battle again.” Plato shuddered in dread. “I’ll never look at Winnie the Pooh the same way ever again.”
“I…” Basil cleared his throat. “I’ll try, but I make no promises.”
His cat nodded and purred in his arms. Knowing Plato, it meant that he considered the matter settled. Basil felt a little guilty still, but his friend’s carefreeness cheered him up a bit.
“Guys!” Bugsy shouted. “Someone’s coming from the other side!”
Basil immediately assigned his new levels…just in case.
Tamer level 17, 18 & 19 Stat Gains: +1 STR, +3 AGI, +2 VIT, +1 SKI, +1 MAG, +3 INT, +3 CHA, +2 LCK. You earned 70 HP and 45 SP.
Monster Cure II (Active): 50 SP, [Support], [Life]. The tamer heals a medium amount of HP for all monster members of his party (HP recovered: (Tamer Levels+MAG) x 2); the Tamer and other players do not benefit from the healing, but the effect applies regardless of distance. Additionally, the spell will heal status ailments affecting the targets. This replaces Monster Cure I.
One for All II: you can now summon all monsters in your party at once instead of one at a time, though you must pay 1 SP x level of the target monster for each individual you are trying to summon. This upgrades One for All I.
[Monster Cure II] and [One for All II] will apply to your entire Guild.
Congratulations, you are one level away from capping the [Tamer] class (20 Levels max). Once you’ve capped a class, you can no longer gain levels in it; but in exchange, you will receive a powerful capstone ability.
One more level and Basil would have to consider what next class to invest in next. Deathknight, Dragonknight, Runesmith, Alchemist, Gardener or Fisherman? He needed to examine Hagen’s notes on the first two as soon as possible. And One for All II…if Basil hadn’t misread, then he could potentially summon his entire Guild at once if he spent enough SP.
Come to think of it, how was it that he gained experience from killing Tamura at all? Rosemarine had been temporarily added to the Aztain Ahizpa party rather than Basil’s own to make place for Nessia, and she was the one to deliver the coup de grâce.
A Guild’s parties are interlocked. If multiple parties from a Guild participate in a battle, the experience is shared between all members even if they didn’t land the killing blow.
Excellent. That kind of setup prevented internal warfare in the organization. Still, Basil wondered why he wasn’t made aware of that feature when he created the Homeowner Revenge Association.
Your Intelligence—
“Don’t you dare to finish this sentence.”
—wasn’t high enough to obtain this information beforehand.
Goddamnit.
Basil looked at Bordeaux as a shadowy form emerged from the clearing fog. The half-crumbled bridge trembled at its approach. The tip of a cannon pierced through the mist atop a mighty Leclerc tank, followed by a dozen armored soldiers on foot. They warily raised their rifles at Basil’s group, especially the non-humanoid members of the party, but thankfully didn’t open fire.
“What kind of automaton is this?” Little Nessia asked, a finger pointed at the tank. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Her gesture caused a few soldiers to tense up and point their weapons at her. Basil immediately dropped Plato on the ground, much to the cat’s chagrin, and prepared to summon his halberd in case things went sour.
“It’s all right!” one of the soldiers said, a woman. Basil recognized her voice before she even removed her helmet. “They’re friends!”
Officer Elissalde beamed with joy upon recognizing her sister. “Maya!”
“Sister!” Maya Elissalde rushed to embrace her sibling. Her dogs howled in support. “Thank God you’re all right!”
Basil breathed in relief. A part of him suspected Maya Elissalde survived—if her class worked like his Tamer one, her dogs would have perished with her—but the doubt remained. That dickhead Tamura couldn’t follow through with his bluff.
The tank stopped a few meters away and an old man emerged from inside. Dressed in a white military uniform covered in medals, he reminded Basil of Ed Harris; albeit ten years older and with a graying beard. A kepi sat comfortably atop a receding hairline. Yet in spite of heavy signs of aging, his blue eyes remained spry and alert. They glanced at each member of Basil’s group, swiftly assessing them. He smiled warmly within seconds, having correctly guessed that they were allies.
General Richard-Philippe Leblanc
Level 26 [Humanoid] (General 10/Pilot 10/Tanklord 6)
Guild: European Liberation Front (High Command).
Finally, Basil thought. Now he could complain about the misuse of his taxes to the proper authority!
“General.” Neria gave him a military salute. “I’m glad to see you alive and well.”
“Our apologies for the delay, Brigadier,” the general said with a grandfatherly voice. “It is difficult to drive a tank in wine fog. We kept running in circles within it.”
Basil watched on in silence, trying to assess the general’s character. He appeared strangely relaxed for a military leader. Basil expected him to come with a stick up his ass, maybe a whole broom.
