Killshot Apocalypse 17

Name: Trace Taylor

Race: Human (Earth A314)

Class: Adept Spellshot – Lvl 14

Vocation: Builder – Lvl 7

Craft: Locked

Traits:

Strength: E+

Magic: E+

Endurance: E

Vitality: E-

Dexterity: D

Skills:

Class Skills:

(F+) Magically Enhanced Accuracy – Lvl 6

(E-) Quick Fire – Lvl 4

(E) Recall Weapon – Lvl 5

(E+) Vulnerability Vision – Lvl 5

(E+) Last in the Chamber – Lvl 5

(D-) Mystic Bullets – Lvl 4

Vocation Skills:

(G) Quick Hands – Lvl 8

(F) Makeshift Materials – Lvl 5

(F+) Rapid Repair – Lvl 7

Trace Taylor looked over her status as she sat in her room; the numbers, the letters, and the words were all visible to her eyes. Even if her eyelids fluttered shut and let darkness claim her vision, the glowing shapes would not disappear.

Ex told her that he wasn’t responsible for her status. It was the work of the System itself— it was proof that she was integrated with the multiverse, adhering to its laws and rules which defied Earth’s established science and physics. Thanks to the System, everyone was now capable of superhuman feats.

Her eyes flickered open as a loud crunch echoed in her ears.

It was a memory. One from just the night before. Trace’s best friend, Elizabeth Evergreen, had broken the bones of a lesser serpentfiend with a single punch. That wasn’t something a normal human should be capable of, considering how those monsters could survive multiple bullets to the skull.

Trace didn’t think anything weird of it when it happened, but after sleeping the adrenaline off, she now realised just how insane that was: Liz could probably fight a chimpanzee bare fist and win. That was fucking insane.

“Bloody bollocks…” She massaged her temples as she lay back on her bed. “I’m still dreaming, aren’t I?”

[Trace Taylor, you are spending too much time ruminating over last night,] Ex said. [It is almost time for you to leave.]

“And how do you know what time it is?”

Silence. The clock that stared down at her from the wall hung inert, dead and out of battery. The AI didn’t respond.

“That’s right. You don’t have a world clock programmed into you. Just let me lie down for another minute, alright?”

Ex didn’t say anything, and Trace snorted. She rolled her eyes, sitting back up with a sigh.

“What, don’t you have any witty response—”

The redhead froze as she caught sight of the man standing at the doorway. Her bedroom’s door was cracked open, a thin slit was spread just wide enough for a figure to be able to see and hear what was going on inside. And on the other side of it stood Adair Russell.

He cleared his throat and rapped lightly against the door. “I apologise for interrupting your… conversation, but may I come in?”

“Oh.” Trace flushed. “Y-yes.”

Why didn’t you tell me that Adair was there?

[Unfortunately, I do not have a world clock programmed into me, let alone a radar. I would have warned you if I’d known he was quietly judging you for a whole minute as you rambled madly to ‘yourself.’]

Don’t fuck with me. You knew, didn’t you?

[Affirmative.]

Trace scowled and stood up. “What do you want?” Crossing her arms, she turned to face Adair as he entered the room.

He cleared his throat. “We’ll be leaving soon. Your friend, Ms Elizabeth Evergreen, is urging you to expedite your preparations so we may depart with punctuality.”

“Of course, she is.” Shaking her head, Trace grabbed her bag packed with ammunition and bandages as she started for the hallway. “Let’s just get this over with.”

The pair funneled out of the room and poured down the stairs, meeting Liz who was bubbling with excitement and ready to hunt down the serpentfiends.

“Finally! Took you long enough, Trace. C’mon, it’s almost noon. We don’t want to be out when it’s dark.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Trace quirked a brow.

“Serpentfiends have been observed to be nocturnal creatures,” Adair explained. “That is to say, they awake in the evening and avoid the light. Perhaps that is why they did not strike until the city lost its power. And perhaps that is why they attack during the night.”

She frowned. “Was that? …”

He raised his arms placatingly. “I assure you, that rhyme wasn’t intentional, nor was it spoken in metre verse.”

“How do you even know all that, anyways?”

“Members of the Precursors of Peace are given access to an online encyclopedia full of collected data on various monsters that have been seen since the advent of the apocalypse. I had downloaded the database into my own personal electronic devices and scoured it for this information.”

“The Precursors of Peace?” Trace’s brows tightened like a fist. “As in, that terrorist group that’s been making headlines across the news? Wait— you were a terrorist, weren’t you?”

If she remembered correctly, Adair was supposed to be part of some organisation; that was why he was dangerous, according to Veronica.

“I assure you,” he said in a calm voice, “I have not pledged my allegiance to the Precursors of Peace, despite my ostensible connection to the group. I am very much a free agent acting on my own.”

“So, you’re just a psychopath, then.”

“I am not a psychopath either, Ms Trace Taylor. These baseless allegations offend my person.”

“You tried to kill me.” She gave him a flat stare.

“I…” He tried to come up with something. Nothing came to mind. “I… apologised for that.”

“Still a psychopath.”

Adair shifted as Liz stepped forward.

“Psychopath or not,” she said, “he’s the only one who’s here to help us. He’s going to track down the serpentfiends, isn’t he?”

“Indeed.” Nodding, he gestured vaguely towards the south. “I have Hunter as my vocation. It lets me follow the tracks of monsters or men. I’ll be able to lead us to the source of the serpentfiends.”

“Is no one else joining us?” Trace asked apprehensively.

“I tried contacting Ken, but I don’t have any connection.” Liz opened her hands and shrugged. “We’re on our own.”

“Well, fuck.”

Trace had hoped that others would join them; this mission was definitely not suited just for a group of three. However, nobody in the commune was above level 10 for their class. Those who’d reached such levels in their class were typically the ones who’d throw themselves straight into Dungeons and, well, die.

“Perhaps you’ll be able to contact your friend when Brandon completes his orgone generator to restore electricity and power for the commune.” Adair spoke as he led the group of three out of the city.

“Brandon?” Liz gave him a quizzical glance.

“Yeah, Brandon.” Trace nodded, grinning. “Y’know, from Frenzydeck— amateur boxer, went to the Olympics, used to train me— remember him?”

“You’re capping— when’d he get back?”

“I’m not too sure, actually. Didn’t get to catch up with him for as long as I’d have liked. But from the sounds of it, he probably only got back recently.”

“Sheeeesh, and he’s now building that organ thing?”

“It’s not an organ thing,” Adair corrected Liz. “It’s an orgone generator.”

Trace furrowed her brows. “Alright, cool. And what the fuck’s an orgone?”

“It is not an orgone. It is just orgone.”

She glared at him, and he raised his right palm towards the sky. A beat passed and he said, “This. This is orgone.”

Her eyes widened as she watched glowing wisps gather around his fingertips. The golden mist-motes coalesced into a phosphorescent light, clambering onto each other until they swelled up into a sphere. It winked and shone like smelter-pots burning behind a pane of glass; it exuded no heat, yet it illumined Adair’s arms, limning a previously unseen scar on his palm.

“Orgone comes in various forms. For Spellcasters like me, we tend to utilise aetheric orgone, also known as just aether. Warriors, on the other hand, typically call forth orgone too, but it’s a different type of orgone: vytalist orgone. Or, simply named, vytal.”

The colour of the glowing sphere changed from a solid gold to a translucent silver as he explained. Liz stared at it in awe, and even Trace let out a soft gasp. Adair continued.

“And while everyone uses a combination of aether and vytal to different degrees, it’s a power that every class can draw from. After all, it’s how we use magic, Ms Trace Taylor.”

“Wait, this is how you use magic?”

“And it is how you use your magic too.” He tightened his fist, and the orb vanished. “Your skill— the one that fires a beam of powerful magical energy— that uses aether.”

“Last in the Chamber does?”

“Indeed. And for each time you use that skill, or any other skill that requires orgone for that matter, you can feel an unnatural exhaustion settle over you. As if you are both physically and mentally tired but are neither at the same time. That is magic.”

Trace thought back to all the times she’d used her skills. Each Last in the Chamber she fired would draw something out from within her, making her feel emptier than before. The same went for Recall Weapon and even Mystic Bullets. This emptiness would be replenished and filled over time with some rest, but she never was quite able to put her finger on why that happened. This explained a lot to her.

The buildings speckling the ground soon faded away— the concrete jungle turning into an actual jungle with tall trees covered by a smothering canopy overhead. It blotted out the sun’s warmth, casting a shadow over the group, and wrapping Trace in a blanket of shivering air.

When they were a furlong into the forest, far from civilisation, Adair snapped his fingers. Flames unfurled over his shoulder, its burning petals blooming to life and lighting the way. Waxwings played against the azure canvas of the sky as they chirped and flitted and flew by.

“So, how do you even know all this?” Trace trudged over the sedge-filled landscape, powering through her languor as she voiced her thoughts.

Adair carved a path around the vermiculated trunks as she and Liz followed closely behind. “Are you inquiring how I obtained my knowledge of orgone?” The redhead nodded, and he tilted his head back. “It is as I’ve told you before, the Precursors of Peace are resourceful. Their leader, Noah Hawthorne, appropriated the term orgone for magic.”

“And why not just call it mana or something? Isn’t that what they do in video games?”

“Noah Hawthorne is an eccentric man who has a flair for the fancy and the niche. I do not know why he used these terms, just that he decided on it.”

Trace folded her arms. “You’re saying he’s a weirdo.”

“Indeed,” Adair chuckled. “He is a weirdo.”

“A weirdo whom you decided to follow,” she muttered, and he clicked his tongue.

“You must understand: their group is not as large as you might think. While there are many who subscribe to their ideology, it is hard to convert online supporters into real members of the Precursors of Peace. There are millions online who pledged loyalty to them, but I am certain that their true numbers are in the tens or hundreds of thousands at most, fractured and splintered across the world. The problem, however, is that this number may balloon to ten or twenty times what it is today a year from now. I simply infiltrated their group for my own advantage before leaving when I had everything I needed.”

“And what did you need?”

“That… is something I can’t tell you.” He paused right by a thicket of trees as Liz continued past him.

Trace was still slightly dubious of Adair, but he was clearly uncomfortable about continuing the subject. She decided to drop it. “Anyways, are we there yet?” she asked. “We’ve been walking for hours.”

“I believe we’re close,” he replied casually. “The serpentfiend tracks seem to originate from this area.”

“Hey, do you guys smell that?” Liz paused right by the thicket, sniffing the air.

“Erm, no?” Trace exchanged a glance with Adair, and he wore a puzzled expression too. She looked inquisitively at her best friend. “What do you smell, Liz?”

“I smell… blood.”

And right on cue, something slithered up to Liz. The sable-tressed Swordsmaiden unsheathed her blade and sliced it in half. Its blood splattered across the fauna as its undulating body was cut in twain.

“A fleeting serpentfiend,” she said, alert. “There are more coming!”

Trace instantly drew her pistol as Adair’s flame flared up in size. There came a cacophony of shrieks as dozens of serpentfiends exploded from the undergrowth, hiding like snakes in tall grass, and waiting to pounce at their prey.

The redhead unloaded round after round in rapid succession at the approaching monsters. Quick Fire let her shoot far faster than she should be able to. Paired with Magically Enhanced Accuracy, she struck her targets with terrifying precision.

It didn’t take Trace more than two bullets to finish off a serpentfiend— usually taking only one for the fleeting serpentfiends. Together with Adair and Liz, they managed to form a circle and fend off the monsters for a good while. But—

“Where the fuck do they keep coming from?” Trace shouted, reaching into her bag to change magazines.

A serpentfiend screeched as it reached her but was scorched by a plume of flames. Adair nodded at her, and she quickly reloaded before firing again.

“Dunno.” Liz spun around, catching three fleeting serpentfiends with the sharp side of her blade. Then she brought her sword down, unleashing an aura of silver energy that sent two lesser serpentfiends flying back. “But they’re pretty weak, so it’s fine.”

“What the hell about this situation seems fine to you?!”

“We’re at a disadvantage here,” Adair said with laboured breath. “The foliage hides their approach. There’s a clearing right there— we’ll stand a better chance if we relocate.”

“Got it.” Trace glanced over at the direction he pointed and cocked her pistol. It was about thirty metres to their right. With her dexterity, it was no problem for her at all. “Liz, watch our backs. I’ll lead the way!”

The redhead sprinted forward, followed by Adair then Liz as she shot down the serpentfiends that moved to cut them off. Bang. Bang. Bang. The monsters fell one after another as she emptied another round at them. Then a clump of serpentfiends— maybe about seven or eight of them— moved in unison, charging at Trace.

Smirking, she flicked a switch, releasing the magazine and aiming at the serpentfiends lining up for her. She pulled the trigger, and a powerful beam streaked out. It blasted apart the ground and monsters, tearing up dirt and blood into the air.

[You have defeated a Lesser Serpentfiend – Lvl 12!

You have defeated a Fleeting Serpentfiend – Lvl 5!

You have defeated a Fleeting Serpentfiend – Lvl 7!

You have defeated a Lesser Serpentfiend – Lvl 10!

You have defeated a Fleeting Serpentfiend – Lvl 4!

…]

Trace hopped over the small crater left behind by her Last in the Chamber and rolled into the clearing, shortly followed by Adair and Liz. She rushed to the centre, where there was sparsely any grass and there were no trees around, before loading a new magazine into her pistol.

“Form a circle, lest they surround us.” Adair drew a line on the dirt as he spun around, conjuring a ball of flames. He tossed it at the pouring serpentfiends, and the explosion knocked dozens of them back. It didn’t necessarily kill all of them. But it stalled their approach.

Trace, Liz, and Adair fought practically back-to-back as the number of monsters slowed to a trickle. The group of three had to have killed over a hundred of the fleeting serpentfiends, and a few dozens of the lesser serpentfiends. Until, finally, they finished off the last of the serpentfiends.

“Fuck. Are we finally done?” Trace lowered her weapon, feeling drained from the inside— something which she now knew was an effect of expending aether.

“I believe,” Adair said, sweating profusely, “that this is it for now.”

But Liz was unimpressed, even as she heaved and panted. A wild grin was plastered across her face as she spread her tired arms wide.

“Was that it, really? C’mon, there has to be more than just that!”

“Liz,” Trace sputtered as her gaze snapped to her best friend. “You better not have—”

A roar exploded out of the forest as the ground trembled before the thunderous cry. Trees fell one after another. Something big was moving towards the group of three.

Trace sighed.

“…you better not have jinxed us.”

“Oops.” Liz scratched the back of her head.

And from a nearby thicket, a massive serpentfiend burst out with a deep shriek. It knocked the barely clinging leaves off the autumn afflicted trees around the area as it rose up above the canopy. It had to be at least three metres wide, and ten times as long as that. A serpentfiend that dwarfed the size of a schoolbus— maybe even bigger. Its ire was directed at them.

[Durable Serpentfiend – Lvl 32.]

There was a moment’s pause where no one moved. No one reacted. Then Ex spoke up again.

[I suggest you flee from this monster.]

“No fucking shit.”

They ran.