Killshot Apocalypse

Trace Book One

By MelasD

Acknowledgements

To pirateaba, the author of The Wandering Inn, for creating such a compelling and inspiring story. Without reading your story, I never would have ever considered writing as something I would do. Thank you.

To RoyalRoad.com, the website where I posted my first ever story, for creating a wonderful website that connects readers and authors. It is the best place for web fiction, and I wouldn’t have been able to turn writing into a career if not for the site.

And to my most wonderful mother. I wouldn’t even be anywhere without you. Thank you.

Disclaimer

Copyright © 2021 MelasD / V.A. Lewis

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form possible without permission from the author or publisher. For permissions, contact the author or publisher through email at delta201@melaswebserial.com

Cover art Version 1 by Artistic Apparition

Cover art Version 2 by Curry

Typography by MikeWe

https://www.patreon.com/KillshotApocalypse

https://twitter.com/melas_d

To hear news about my books and Trace stuff, subscribe to my newsletter here: https://melasdnewsletter.ck.page/

Table of Contents

Contents

Acknowledgements

Disclaimer

Table of Contents

Preface

Killshot Apocalypse 1

Killshot Apocalypse 2

Killshot Apocalypse 3

Killshot Apocalypse 4

Killshot Apocalypse 5

Killshot Apocalypse 6

Killshot Apocalypse 7

Killshot Apocalypse 8

Killshot Apocalypse 9

Killshot Apocalypse 10

Killshot Apocalypse 11

Killshot Apocalypse 12

Killshot Apocalypse 13

Killshot Apocalypse 14

Killshot Apocalypse 15

Killshot Apocalypse 16

Killshot Apocalypse 17

Killshot Apocalypse 18

Killshot Apocalypse 19

Killshot Apocalypse 20

Killshot Apocalypse 21

Killshot Apocalypse 22

Killshot Apocalypse 23

Killshot Apocalypse 24

Killshot Apocalypse 25

Killshot Apocalypse 26

Killshot Apocalypse 27

Killshot Apocalypse 28

Killshot Apocalypse 29

Killshot Apocalypse 30

Killshot Apocalypse 31

Killshot Apocalypse 32

Killshot Apocalypse 33

Killshot Apocalypse 34

Killshot Apocalypse 35

Killshot Apocalypse 36

Killshot Apocalypse 37

Killshot Apocalypse 38

Killshot Apocalypse 39

Killshot Apocalypse 40

Killshot Apocalypse 41

Killshot Apocalypse 42

Killshot Apocalypse 43

Author’s Notes

Read More

Preface

I’d just like to quickly preface before you begin this book that it is a Fantasy LitRPG (Literary Role Playing Game). This means there will RPG-like mechanics like status screens and levels. However, this does not mean the world is set inside a video game. The world depicted in the story is as real to the characters as real life is to you and I.

You do not have to read every Status screen or notification that will be shown, but I do encourage that you at least take a quick look at it before moving on. Additionally, it is a Young Adult take on the LitRPG Apocalypse genre. Lastly, this takes place in an alternate reality Earth which hits a population of 10,000,000,000, along with some other minor historical changes. P.S. this is an attempt at writing in British English. I hope you give it a chance. Now to the real story.

Killshot Apocalypse 1

“IT IS TIME.”

Figures stirred in the darkness. They turned to the screen as its number ticked up. Finally, the threshold had been met. The screen flickered, showing various scenes from the blue planet.

A child stood on barren ground: soil deprived of life on its shivering blackened surface, holding nothing but the quietus of all that it took. Insects crawled over his scrawny arms like they were the shaking branches of a tree as his frail body creaked back. Rain fell from above, and his hollow gaze turned towards the heavens. His tongue, trembling and thin, slowly stuck out of his mouth. A single water droplet splashed on its tip. He licked his lips.

And the scene changed.

“This one thinks it is too early. This one believes that Humanity is not ready.”

There was a sprawling city, densely packed with buildings and people alike. A stone jungle of concrete, monolithic edifices towering threateningly towards the smog-smeared sky. Cars were beeping their horns as men and women walked without purpose to their jobs, mere phantoms going through the cycle of their day. Rehearsed. Practised. Without a soul.

And the scene changed.

“You. Would. Pro. Pose. A. De. Lay?”

Now, it showed a suburban neighbourhood. A young woman stood on the bristly welcome mat of a house, arms crossed, staring at a pair of older humans. They gesticulated wildly, their mouths moved with an exaggerated motion, and they pointed at their feet in a way that exuded a sense of finality. But she simply stormed off.

The first who spoke uttered a weak sigh.

“THERE IS NO TIME. WE HAVE WAITED LONG ENOUGH. THE MINIMUM REQUIREMENTS HAVE BEEN MET.”

The young woman crunched through the fallen leaves that carpeted the tarmac a vibrant orange. She shivered and adjusted her red scarf, the same colour as her hair, whispering something to herself under a misty breath.

“PREPARE THE ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE UNITS. READY THE POCKET DIMENSIONS.”

Boarding a bus, she tapped a card on its payment machine and found a seat. The destination sign flashed a name. That of a city. And just as she settled down, a man walked up to her with a smile. A short conversation ensued. The man began to shout, but she simply plugged her ears with a set of wireless earphones, ignoring him until he left.

“IT IS TIME TO INTEGRATE HUMANKIND INTO THE SYSTEM.”

And the scene changed.

* * *

“Stupid. Fucking. Arseholes!” Three shots rang out. Each accentuated a word. Trace Taylor lowered the handgun. It was a standard eight-rounder pistol, an extra round loaded in the chamber, fairly easy to use. She was normally not much of a gun person herself, however she had to vent right now.

“Yo, chill out Trace.” Liz whistled. “Never seen you this pissed before. Not gonna lie, don’t you think that’s going a little too far?”

Snorting, Trace released the magazine before swiftly loading a new set of bullets into it. With a click, she switched the safety back on. “I’m not talking about my parents. They’re just idiots. I’m talking about those fucking cocksuckers I rejected on the bus, mocking me for my bloody accent. It’s not my fault I don’t pronounce ‘literally’ as ‘lid-uh-ra-lee.’”

“If it makes you feel any better, I think your British accent is lovely,” Liz said in a faux posh voice.

“It’s an Estuary English accent.” Trace rolled her eyes. “Also, not helping, Liz.”

“That’s what best friends are for!”

They were practically sisters at this point. Elizabeth Evergreen, better known as Liz, was the only daughter of Jason Evergreen, the owner of the small gun range Trace was currently crashing in: The Evergreen Gun Range. It was located right at the edge of Liberapolis, a rather large city, even for the east coast. And since Jason Evergreen was abroad on a trip with his mistress right now, business was closed, leaving only the pair to use the facilities to their hearts’ delight.

“So, why did you run away?” Liz leaned back on her chair, speaking casually. “What kinda drama-filled day led to you storming out this time?”

“It wasn’t just one single event. You know that as well as I do. It’s everything about them.”

Trace sighed as she glanced at the hanging lights.

“They’re control freaks. They just don’t understand that college is—” Looking back down, she paused. “Liz?”

Her friend was gone. The chair Liz had been sitting in was now empty. The room was dead silent, no signs of life anywhere.

“Hello?” No response. The redhead pursed her lips. “Liz, this isn’t funny—”

And the world around her vanished. The floor dissolved as the ceiling bubbled up into foam. The walls collapsed, peeling off like old paint. Everything rapidly shifted. A new platform rose beneath her, and a sable dome fell overhead.

Trace stumbled back, her eyes bulging from their sockets. “Wha—”

“GREETINGS.”

A voice interrupted her. It was almost a shout. She jerked and spun around, facing the only figure standing amidst the darkness. “Wh-who are you?”

The figure stepped forward, a green snout emerging from the shadows. Yellow eyes, slit-like pupils, and granular scales. “NAME: TRACE TAYLOR. AGE: EIGHTEEN. COUNTRY OF BIRTH: ENGLAND. GREETINGS, I AM BOB OF THE ESVOL, AND I COME IN PEACE.”

The realisation of what this figure was slowly sank into Trace’s mind. It was a lizard person. “Holy shit.” No, not a lizard person. “You’re a fucking alien!” She aimed her pistol at the reptilian’s skull warningly. “Stay back! Don’t you fucking dare probe me!”

“PROBE?” It… the thing… ‘Bob’ raised his chin, a thoughtful expression passing through his face. “A HUMAN CONCEPTION OF EXTRATERRESTRIAL ACTIVITIES. THERE IS NO NEED TO WORRY. WE ARE NOT INTERESTED IN THE ANATOMY OF A HUMAN FEMALE. I ASSURE YOU, WE COME IN PEACE—”

“Yeah right!” Trace flicked the safety off as perspiration trickled down her fingertips. “This is the part where you do the opposite of that and enslave humanity, isn’t it? I’m not falling for your bullshit!”

‘Bob’ frowned. “IT SEEMS THE HUMAN SPECIMEN DOUBTS MY INTENTIONS.”

“How astute. Did me telling you to ‘fuck off’ clue you in on that?”

Ignoring her, he continued to himself. “I HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO ATTEMPT ADVANCED DIPLOMACY.”

Trace blinked. Advanced diplomacy? Oh fuck, if he dared to try and brainwash her—

Spreading his arms wide, ‘Bob’ began to shift. His form flickered as a ripple washed over his scales. Each small section of his body was being flipped, replaced by a fairer skin tone as his face grew inwards. The lizard person had become, well, a regular person.

Now with brown hair, blue eyes, and a charming smile on his face, he strolled up to Trace and proffered her his hand. “Apologies, m’lady.” He tipped a black cap at her.

And she pistol-whipped him. He grasped at his chin, slowly transforming back to his reptilian form.

“Stay the fuck away from me, you freak!”

“ADVANCED DIPLOMACY FAILED. SEEKING ALTERNATE PATHS.” ‘Bob’s’ eyes flickered. His irises slid behind his eyelids before returning a different colour. A pale gold. “BRUTEFORCE EXPLANATION SEEMS TO BE THE ONLY VIABLE ROUTE. BEGINNING INTRODUCTION SPEECH.”

“What are you… on about?”

“CONGRATULATIONS, TRACE TAYLOR OF EARTH A314. YOUR UNIVERSE HAS MET THE REQUIREMENTS TO JOIN OUR NETWORK OF SYSTEM-OPERATED WORLDS. IN THIS TEMPORARY POCKET DIMENSION, YOU WILL BE UNDERGOING THE INITIATION PROTOCOLS NECESSARY TO ACCLIMATE WITH THE REST OF THE MULTIVERSE.”

Multiverse? Pocket dimension? Initiation? What the fuck was going on?! Her mind raced with all these words she had only ever heard in science fiction movies. She opened her mouth to ask a question, but ‘Bob’ spoke over her.

“YOU WILL BE PROVIDED WITH YOUR OWN ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE ASSISTANT TO ENSURE YOUR SAFE RETURN TO THE NEWLY-CONNECTED EARTH. IT WILL GUIDE YOU THROUGH THE VASTLY CHANGED LANDSCAPE OF YOUR PLANET AFTER YOU COMPLETE THE TUTORIAL PROGRAMME.”

Trace narrowed her eyes. “Wait, you’re going to insert a fucking microchip in me?”

“IT IS NOT A MICROCHIP. RATHER, IT IS A FEMTOCHIP THAT WILL BE PAINLESSLY ATTACHED TO YOUR BRAIN MATTER.” ‘Bob’ took a step, and she drew back.

“That does not make things better—” He tapped a sharp finger on her forehead, and she reeled. “Ouch— the fuck? Was that the femtochip?”

“THAT IS CORRECT.”

“Take it out, you shitheel!” She fired a shot at him.

To her disbelief, ‘Bob’ caught it. “I WILL NOT. YOU WILL BE PROMPTLY EXTERMINATED IF YOU RETURN TO EARTH WITHOUT ANY CONNECTION TO THE SYSTEM. THE FEMTOCHIP ENSURES THIS DOES NOT HAPPEN.”

“How does that even work? What even is this ‘System?’ That doesn’t make any sense! Go and fuck—" A stinging sensation caused Trace to wince. She grabbed for her head, but her hand turned into a blur. Dizziness settled over the redhead. “What is? …”

“IT HAS BEEN DONE. INITIALISING TUTORIAL SEQUENCE.” With a snap of his fingers, the dark curtain shrouding over them vanished. A light engulfed him as his body dematerialised along with the pocket dimension.

“Fuck…you…” Trace collapsed, her mind spinning as the shadows from the walls crept up over her eyes.

‘Bob’ spoke one last time as if his loud voice was coming through static. “TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTION: THE SYSTEM IS THE OVERSEER OF THE MULTIVERSE. IT IS WHAT UNITES ALL THE UNIVERSES IN THE NETWORK. YOUR SPECIES HAS PASSED THE REQUISITE POPULATION OF TEN BILLION SAPIENT BEINGS RESIDING IN EARTH A314 AND CAN NOW JOIN THE GREATER WORLD.”

* * *

[Tutorial sequence initiated,] a monotonous voice said as Trace woke up.

She rubbed her eyes and stretched her back, a yawn escaping through her lips. Then she remembered the events of earlier. Trace leapt to her feet, gun still in hand, glancing around warily. “Where am I? Who said that?”

[Hello, I am your artificial intelligence assistant, XTR-4715. You are currently undergoing the tutorial sequence.]

“XTR-4715— wait, are you that femtochip they forced in my head?”

[Affirmative.]

She wanted to curse, to tell the AI to get out of her head, but she knew the blame would be misplaced. If anyone was at fault, it was that ‘Bob.’ “Ugh, where did that bastard go?”

Trace stood and took in the room around her. The floors and walls were white— like the kind you’d see in a laboratory. There was a hallway before her, brightly lit, with a creature standing at the very end. It looked like a giant rat with no tail and no fur. A pair of fangs stabbed down from its crooked jaw as it stared at her with hollow black eyes.

“What the fuck is that?” She fell back to the ground, pointing a shaking finger at the creature.

[Giant Rat - Lvl 1.]

The voice in her head did not elaborate. It felt quite odd, having something speak from inside of her. It sounded like a second set of thoughts— one which she had no control over.

Taking a few calming breaths, Trace steadied herself back to her feet.

“Hey, to the AI in my head, could you please explain why that giant fucking rat is standing before me?” she asked kindly.

[Objective: Reach the fifth floor of the tutorial tower to complete the sequence. It is recommended that a basic class is chosen to eliminate the giant rats in each room.]

Reach the fifth floor? Trace glanced up at a glowing number just above the corridor. She was apparently on the first floor. “Alright, and what are these classes?”

[The commonly chosen basic classes are as follows:

Warrior - A basic class specialised in close-quarters combat.

Ranger - A basic class specialised in long-range combat.

Rogue - A basic class specialised in mixed combat.

Spellcaster - A basic class specialised in magical combat.]

“This sounds like a video game…” She tilted her head back. “Say, erm, XS—”

[XTR-4715.]

“Right, that. Do you know what each of these classes does?”

[Each class will offer different skills and bonuses to your traits. These will all reflect in not just your status, but also in what you are capable of accomplishing.]

“My status?” Her eyes widened as a screen appeared before her.

Name: Trace Taylor

Race: Human (Earth A314)

Class: N/A

Vocation: N/A

Craft: Locked

Traits:

Strength: E-
Magic: G
Endurance: F+
Vitality: F
Dexterity: E

Skills:

N/A

“What is all this?”

[It is an overview of your person. Would you like me to explain each section of your status screen?]

Shaking her head, Trace leaned against the wall and massaged her temples. “No, I think I’ve got the gist of it.” Magic was a thing too. She’d have been more surprised, if not for how absolutely exhausted she was right now. “Just… let me complete this tutorial and go home. I think I need to lie down.”

She forced herself forward, stopping right at the entrance of the hallway and staring at the giant rat. The screen was almost invisible when she wasn’t focusing on it. The AI’s voice echoed in her head, warning her of what was to come.

[Trace Taylor, you have not yet chosen a class to battle the giant rat. The tutorial has begun. If you do not choose a class, you will be ripped to shreds.]

Choose a class? There were a few options. But did she really have a choice if it was all being imposed on her? She hated the restrictions Mum and Dad always placed on her, which was part of the reason why she left just earlier today.

And now, even if she was faced with a monster, she had a choice. An actual choice for herself to make. Death wasn’t certain, unlike with ‘Bob.’ Choosing a class was merely recommended by the tutorial. So, she made her own decision.

A shot rang out, and there was a thud. Trace lowered her pistol.

“I think I’m good.”

[You have defeated a Giant Rat – Lvl 1!] Its voice was unnaturally excited for a brief moment, then it returned to its monotonous tone. [Wait, that was not supposed to happen.]

Killshot Apocalypse 2

[Without a class, no experience is earned for the killing of a giant rat.]

Trace glowered, ignoring the voice in her head. Although it wasn’t entirely fair to call it just a voice. It was an artificial intelligence assistant with a complex and long name she didn’t want to memorise.

“I don’t care.” She stormed ahead, both hands tightly gripping onto her pistol, reaching the end of the corridor. The giant rat lay dead at her feet. It was a thin, misshapen creature, barely what she’d describe as a rat. More like a giant abomination of a creature. She was just as disgusted by it dead as when it was alive. “How do I get to the next floor?” Trace came to a stop right by the end of the corridor.

[There is a button to your left which calls down a lift. It will take you to the second level of this complex.]

“I see.” She pressed the button, and there was a ding. Stepping onto the lift, she had a thought. “XT, erm—”

[XTR-4715.]

“Right. Is there a shorter name I can call you by? Maybe a nickname?”

[The assignment of a nickname is allowed. What should I answer to?]

“I’m not sure. Maybe Ex?” Trace was never a very creative person. She called Liz ‘Liz’ because it was short for ‘Elizabeth’; not a lot of thought was put into it.

[Affirmative,] it said. [I will now be answering to the name ‘Ex.’]

“What about a pronoun?”

[A pronoun is not necessary as I do not have a biological sex.]

“Can I… give you one?” Wait, was that offensive? But Trace found herself uncomfortable referring to Ex as an ‘it’ all the time.

[Affirmative.]

“Your voice kind of sounds like a man’s. So, ‘he’ should work.”

There was a bump as the lift reached the next floor. Ex now had a name, much to Trace’s relief. She’d rather be holding a conversation with what she thought was a person rather than a mindless voice.

She exited the lift and cursed. “Fucking hell.” Three giant rats stood before her in a box room. There was no hallway leading down to another lift. Rather, there was a stairwell at the other side of the room. “Do I have to kill these giant rats as well?”

[It is recommended—]

“But not necessary, got it.” Trace made a break for it. She darted past the giant rats, narrowly avoiding their frenzied bites. She reached the stairwell and bolted her way up as the monsters stopped their pursuit. “Take that, dipshits!” Victorious laughter carried her up to the next floor. “They were so slow. What level even were they?”

[Those giant rats were level 1 each.]

“So, just like that one on the first floor?”

[Affirmative.]

The third floor was far larger than the first and second combined. It held over a dozen giant rats within, but they were not waiting to pounce on Trace when she arrived. There was a pit at the centre of the room housing the giant rats, and a ladder on each end climbing down the vertical wall.

“What is this?” She stared at the milling monsters.

[This is a nest belonging to the giant rats,] Ex said.

“Are they not going to try and stop me? I can just hug the side of the room and enter the lift without trouble, can’t I?”

[Affirmative.]

“What’s the point of this room then?”

[Eliminating the giant rats will award you with experience to level your class. This room of the tutorial level is designed to let you decide how much experience you wish to gain before proceeding.]

Trace nodded as Ex explained. She tilted her head back, a thoughtful look on her face. “Good thing I don’t have a damn class, huh?” She went around the pit, entering the lift without any trouble just as she said she could.

Ex did not speak, which made the ride up awkward for Trace. She expected some kind of retort. But that was probably because she was too used to Liz.

Is Liz going through this same thing? I just hope she’s fine. There was no music. There was only a silence followed by a ding as the lift doors opened. This time, Trace did not step into a danger-free room. It was the exact opposite.

Six giant rats waited for her, already growling.

“Erm, what level are these guys?”

[Giant Rat – Lvl 2,] Ex repeated six times.

“Thought so.” Trace ran, and the giant rats leapt at her. She barely managed to roll under the terrible jaw of one of the monsters as they crashed into each other.

Scrambling to her feet, she glanced back to see four of them had been caught in a pile. Only two of them kept up with her. If the fourth floor were a simple box, Trace would’ve gotten away scot-free. But it mirrored the first floor in shape, with an even longer corridor to reach the end. A set of stairs waited for her. Her liberation.

A giant rat scratched her left leg, and she screamed. “You’ve gotta be shitting—” She kicked it back and fired off a single round at its skull. She missed, grazing the giant rat’s stomach instead.

[It appears you have been wounded.]

“I fucking know that.”

[It is recommended that you use your primary weapon to dispose of the monsters.]

“I only have a single magazine, Ex. I’m not going to waste all of it on those assfuck-looking things—” Trace snapped the back of her pistol at the second pursuing monster. It reeled back from the hit, giving her the distance she needed to reach the stairway. “Not when I still have this last floor of even more of them to deal with.”

[Then I recommend accepting one of the basic classes offered to you.]

“Oh, you can piss right off.”

She thought she escaped— her previous run ended once she reached the end of the room— but this chase was far from over.

“What the fuck?” A giant rat snapped its jaw at her. It nearly nipped her red scarf! “Why are they still chasing me?” She flew up the steps as all six of the giant rats poured after her.

[The fourth floor only ends when you reach the final room.]

“And you didn’t think to tell me that?” Trace was shouting as she whirled around a corner. A pair of double doors stood at the top of the last flight of stairs. Glancing back, she fired another shot at the foremost giant rat. This time, it struck true.

[You have defeated a Giant Rat – Lvl 2!]

The monster tumbled back down, taking its pack to the very bottom with it.

“Gotcha!”  She didn’t waste time, climbing up to the double door and slamming it shut behind her. With a sigh of relief, she slumped against the wall and slid to her knees. “That was too close for comfort.” Trace glanced around the room, finding herself in a large hall with a stage and a pedestal in the middle. “This is the final floor?”

[Affirmative,] Ex said.

“There is nothing here.”

[Affirmative.]

Trace massaged her forehead. “Ex, could you please explain what’s going on instead of saying ‘affirmative’ over and over again?”

[This is the boss room of the tutorial. You have reached the top of the tower and will now face the Rat King before you are returned to Earth.]

“Boss… room?” Her eyes grew wide as the ceiling opened.

A creature crashed down, kicking a cloud of dust up around it. What stood before Trace was not a giant rat. It looked similar to a giant rat in that it had wretched claws and fangs, but this creature was vaguely humanoid in shape.

It bore the wrinkled skin of a shaved cat, with the protruding face of a rabid dog. And yet, it stood on two feet, a pair of lanky arms falling to its knees: a two-metre monster ready to strike.

[Rat King – Lvl 5.]

Trace raised her pistol, and it snarled.

“Krshhhhh!”

“What the fuck is that thing?” She fired a bullet, nicking it in the shoulder.

[The Rat King is—]

“I didn’t ask for a bloody explanation!” Trace ran for the stage and shot another round at the Rat King.

It leaped to the side, easily dodging the bullet from a fucking gun like it was nothing before pouncing on her. She ducked under the first swing, only to be kicked through the air like a ragdoll a second later.

[Trace Taylor,]— Ex’s voice sounded urgent— [it is imperative for you to choose a class to defeat the Rat King.]

“Why?” She gritted her teeth, getting back to her feet. “Why do I have to choose one of the classes you’ve forced onto me, huh?”

[The tutorial monsters are designed to be less lethal than real monsters. However, that will not stop them from killing you if you cannot protect yourself. Choose a class.]

“I…”

The Rat King climbed up to the stage, its black eyes focused only on Trace. She shot at the monster once again, this time hitting it in the other shoulder. It growled.

One left. She steadied herself, tightly holding onto the grip with both her hands. Don’t squeeze the trigger. Just move the trigger. That way, you’re less likely to miss. Trace waited for the Rat King to reach her before firing. She didn’t miss. She couldn’t miss. Because it didn’t dodge.

Instead, it swung its claws and blocked the bullet, before knocking the gun away and grabbing the redhead. She was held up by the neck, choking, gasping for air. But it didn’t kill her. It tossed her aside, and she slid across the stage floor.

Trace landed just a few feet away from her pistol. She tried to grab for it, only to be pulled back by her leg. The Rat King dragged her as she squirmed and cursed, unable to break free. And for the first time, Ex asked her a real question.

[Why will you not choose a class?]

The Rat King threw her against a wall, her back slamming into it hard. Trace coughed and stood back up. Why don’t I just choose a class? ...

Trace wasn’t sure. She just knew that she was never someone who fit in. She wasn’t born in this country. Her family moved to the United States when she was barely a seven-year-old. Because of her English accent, she was bullied in elementary school, mocked for the way she spoke. Especially so when she had to turn boys and girls down.

She never had a choice in the matter; her parents dictated that she left all her friends behind for a strange place where she knew no one. But what she hated was not that she had no say in that decision. In fact, she never hated that she didn’t fit in. No, what Trace hated was that the other available options were always worse.

If she did fit in, she’d be friends with a bunch of bullies. If she stayed with her grandma in London, she wouldn’t get to see her parents.

“Because—” Trace punched the nose of the Rat King. It barely budged. “Your classes are dogshit.”

It kneed her in the stomach, causing her to double over. It wasn’t going to bite off her head or finish the job— this was a tutorial monster— but it would keep tossing her around until she died from breaking all her bones.

[Affirmative,] Ex said, and Trace’s eye twitched.

“Ex…”

[Beginning class customisation process for Trace Taylor.]

The Rat King loomed over her as she blinked. “What?”

[Name: Trace Taylor. Age: Eighteen. Country of Birth: England.

Traits:

Strength: E-
Magic: G
Endurance: F+
Vitality: F
Dexterity: E

Primary Weapon: Cel-Dec BMR-31.

Personality Type: Brash, stubborn, and intuitive.

Searching for basic classes which fit these criteria…]

“Ex, what are you— urk!” Trace found herself being picked up by the neck once more.

[Search complete. Class is found. Listing result:

Spellshot – A basic class specialised for the unconventional combat of utilising magitech weapons.

Trait Growth:

Strength: E- to E
Magic: G to F+
Endurance: F+ to F+
Vitality: F to F+
Dexterity: E to E+

Skills Gained:

(G) Improved Accuracy – Your accuracy is permanently improved.

(F) Deadly Sight – You can pinpoint the most vulnerable body parts of any creature up to 5 levels above you. Will increase for each skill level gained and increase by two.

(F+) Last in the Chamber – You can fire a powerful magical bullet when your magazine is emptied. Can be used once an hour. Cooldown will decrease for each skill level gained.

(F+) Recall Weapon – You can summon the last weapon you were holding if it is within 10 metres of you. Range will increase for each skill level gained. Can be used once an hour.

Do you accept this class?]

Ex’s words were all Trace could focus on, even as she was being strangled by the Rat King. She was lifted off her feet, held face-to-face with the monster. Right now, she had a choice. Either she was slowly killed in this tutorial sequence, or she became a Spellshot.

Unlike the other basic classes that didn’t pertain to Trace in any way, this class was tailored to suit her. In fact, it almost seemed to give her everything she needed to come out of this fight alive. It was a better alternative.

“Y-yes.” Trace didn’t speak as much as choke.

[Affirmative,] Ex said. [You are now a Spellshot.]

And suddenly, Trace felt everything change. Her blurry vision sharpened as she analysed the Rat King. It was about to throw her, but she held out a hand.

“Recall Weapon.” Her pistol flashed, swallowed by a brilliant blue light. It was sucked right into Trace’s fingers, already aimed at the chest of the monster. “Small brain, but a really big heart. You kind of remind me of myself, you know?”

The Rat King threw her, and she fired. Her magazine was empty, but that was why it worked. Last in the Chamber. She soared through the air as the monster’s chest burst open, its heart exploding from the piercing magical bullet. Its body slowly fell as she rolled to a stop, laughing.

“Take that, you fucking arsehole!”

It collapsed with a loud thud, and Ex spoke in her head.

[You have defeated the Rat King – Lvl 5! Additional experience is earned for killing a boss monster!

(G) Improved Accuracy has reached level 2!

(G) Improved Accuracy has reached level 3!

(F) Deadly Sight has reached level 2!

(F+) Recall Weapon has reached level 2!

(F+) Last in the Chamber has reached level 2!

Spellshot has reached level 2!

Spellshot has reached level 3!]

Name: Trace Taylor

Race: Human (Earth A314)

Class: Spellshot – Lvl 3

Vocation: N/A

Craft: Locked

Traits:

Strength: E
Magic: F+
Endurance: F+
Vitality: F+
Dexterity: E+

Skills:

Class Skills:
(G) Improved Accuracy – Lvl 3
(F) Deadly Sight – Lvl 2
(F+) Last in the Chamber – Lvl 2
(F+) Recall Weapon – Lvl 2

Trace’s mind was flooded with messages. She ignored most of them, simply lying, satisfied. “I did it! I’m not dead!” For a minute there, she thought she was actually going to die at the hands of the Rat King. She would have lain there forever, until a bright light appeared in her peripheral vision.

There was a glow coming from the pedestal on the stage. It seemed to call to her. Trace got to her feet, stumbling over to the light and—

[Tutorial sequence complete. Commencing return to Earth.]

“Wait, wha—” Everything around Trace spun as she was pulled into the light. And it was over. The world was forever changed.

Killshot Apocalypse 3

“Breaking news at PNS!”

“Ever since the ‘Neo Genesis’ event where humanity was abducted by the alien species referred to as the ‘Esvol,’ society has continued to rapidly fall towards the brink of collapse. All around the world, experts are describing the effects of integrating with the ‘System’ as ‘apocalyptic.’ Our Wolf News reporters are…”

“Places known as ‘Dungeons’ have been popping up in every country near densely populated locations, although some have been reported hidden far from any city or town."

“Monstros foram vistos vagando pela selva…"

“Employees have been going on strike, refusing to return to their jobs—"

“…甚至建立了一个网站来跟踪最高级别的个人!”

“Gates that supposedly lead to the multiverse have appeared in every major city—"

“Ratusan orang sendirian di Jakarta telah tewas saat mencoba mengatasi Dungeon di bawah kota!”

“No one has seen the entities calling themselves ‘Bob,’ ‘Mary,’ ‘Lee,’—"

“Meer as 'n miljard mense het nooit van hul ontvoering teruggekeer nie….”

“—and the so-called organisation that has had a meteoric rise to prominence online had this to say:

“The Precursors of Peace will represent humankind in the multiverse. If the world governments refuse to work together in this time of chaos, then we, the people, shall unite ourselves and establish a new world order. We shall pave the path for the rest of society and be the first ones to step through these Gates under the banner of peace!”

Trace turned off the television. “Holy fucking shit. It’s only been one week, and everybody is already going insane.”

“I mean, it is the apocalypse, right?” Liz leaned back on her seat, sipping on some coffee. “I’d be more worried if things were completely normal after all that’s happened.” Setting the cup down, she started for the door as Trace frowned.

“Where are you going?”

“Out,” Liz said. She grabbed a sheathed blade from a coat hanger, hefting it on her shoulder. Her sable hair was tied into a ponytail ready for battle, and her laidback brown eyes curled up as she grinned. “I got pretty far into the Dire Pits before that bladeworm snuck up on me and nicked me on the arm. I bet I could’ve gotten to the boss room if I hadn’t let my guard down.”

That was right. Unlike Trace who had mostly been recovering from the injuries she sustained during the tutorial and was adamantly against the insanity of it all, Liz had actually been going out and delving into these Dungeons and exploring the different structures that had appeared since Neo Genesis. Trace was only at level 4, while her best friend—

[Warrior – Lvl 8.]

“I still can’t believe you chose Warrior as your class. What were you thinking?”

“Hey! I like hitting things. I used to box, remember?” When Liz was ten, she’d go to the Frenzydeck Gym for boxing lessons. That was when the pair first met and became friends.

“I just didn’t expect you to, y’know, embrace this whole weird alien fuckery so quickly. You’re already close to level 10. Are you honestly looking forward to your class evolution?” Apparently, your class would undergo some sort of change at certain ‘capstone levels,’ as Ex put it.

“It is what it is, Trace.” Liz shrugged as she pushed open the metal door. “The Esvol came, they messed with our planet, and now we have to live with all the repercussions. There’s money to be made going into these Dungeons. It’s do or die out there. Dunno about you, but it’s do for me.” The door swung shut behind her, leaving Trace alone in the room.

* * *

The Evergreen Gun Range’s name led most to believe that it’d be the type of shooting range located 20 kilometres from Liberapolis, with a rolling grass field lined with targets in the great outdoors. What they’d realise when they arrived was that it was actually a small two-storey building about the size of a basketball court, just at the edge of the city. If that wasn’t already enough to upset them, the fact that it was closed during the so-called ‘apocalypse’ would draw flying spit from the deep well of their mouths.

“What do you mean you’re not open? We need to buy an AR-15 to protect our homes from looters!” The man’s saliva spilt all over the countertop as a woman stood behind him, tightly hugging his arm.

Trace wiped at her face, offering him a very kind glare in return. “As I’ve said, sir, this establishment is closed. I’m well aware that times are tough right now— we’re all feeling it, not just you— but The Evergreen Gun Range has been closed all summer, and I don’t believe things will be different for autumn.”

“Look—” He set down a duffel bag in front of her. “If it’s a money thing, we have the cash.” That clearly didn’t sit well with his wife or girlfriend or whatever. “This is three thousand dollars,” he said. “You can keep it all for yourself. We just need a gun.”

Ah, shit. Trace felt really bad now, seeing the pleading look on the man’s face. She just assumed he was being entitled at first; nothing about him screamed that he was in trouble. But that was just the impression she got from his green polo shirt and rich sunglasses. If they were being this desperate, it must have truly been important.

There was, however, a problem.

“I really wish I could help you, sir. Unfortunately, I don’t have the keys to the gun safe.” Neither she nor Liz was given access to anything beyond a handgun by Mr Evergreen himself before he left on his trip. “The most I can get you is a Glock. Maybe a revolver?"

The man tightly gripped the edge of the counter. His face twisted, and he raised a fist. “You bitch!” He threw a punch as Trace’s eyes widened.

She took a step back, dodging the swing, and quickly drew the weapon at her waist. The man paused as the woman next to him gasped. “P-please don’t shoo—"

“I’ll only say this one time.” Trace aimed at the man’s bald head. “Fuck. Off.”

And they did. The woman dragged her boyfriend or husband or whatever behind her as he muttered something to himself to mend his wounded ego. They took their cash with them too, not that Trace cared much. Apparently, the value of the dollar was rapidly decreasing. The worst economic crisis in history, they kept saying in the news.

Trace locked the door after the ‘customers’ left. She left it unlocked because she didn’t want Liz to have trouble entering when she was back from Dungeon-diving, but if assholes and weirdos kept showing up, Trace would have no choice but to keep them out.

She glowered as she stalked through the empty room. It had a typical layout for an indoor gun range, with a counter at the front for payment, and some plastic tables and chairs set up around it as a makeshift waiting area. There was a drink fridge in the corner and a kitchen over at the back for those who were hungry or thirsty. A thick wall separated this room from the actual shooting area, with a thin glass window slicing horizontally through its middle.

One of the dangling white lights overhead flickered.

“I’ve got to get that fixed, don’t I?” Trace slumped over on a chair, sighing. “The world is going mad. A week has passed, and everyone’s losing their shit.”

[Trace Taylor,] a voice in her head said.

Speaking of losing your shit… She sat up. “What is it, Ex?”

[It appears you nearly engaged in battle with that Warrior and Spellcaster. As both of their individual levels surpassed yours, it is not recommended that you try to instigate combat with them in the future.]

“Thanks for telling me this ten minutes too late.” Trace rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be a super-advanced AI? You could’ve warned me of their levels beforehand.”

[My analytical capabilities are limited. I can only provide simple review and advice in regard to the System. Usually, when prompted.]

“Could have fooled me. You’re quite talkative, y’know.”

[Affirmative], he said. [My program is designed to offer guidance to those who appear to struggle acclimating with the System.]

“Are you calling me stupid?”

[Negative.]

“I’m pretty sure you just did, Ex.”

[Negative. While your impulsive and obstinate nature initially led me to believe so, I have discerned that there is a keen intuition beneath that façade of foolishness.]

“Oh, piss off.” Trace couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t a little bit offended by that, but she knew Ex meant no insult with what he said. So, that lessened the blow to a certain extent. Also, he was partially right.

Name: Trace Taylor

Race: Human (Earth A314)

Class: Spellshot – Lvl 4

Vocation: N/A

Craft: Locked

Traits:

Strength: E
Magic: F+
Endurance: F+
Vitality: F+
Dexterity: E+

Skills:

Class Skills:
(G) Improved Accuracy – Lvl 4
(F) Deadly Sight – Lvl 3
(F+) Last in the Chamber – Lvl 2
(F+) Recall Weapon – Lvl 2

Trace reviewed her status as a translucent screen appeared in her vision. It was something she could dismiss and summon at a simple thought. It wasn’t even intrusive, either. When she brought it up but didn’t focus on it, it almost slinked into the background like her nose.

She had only levelled once since the tutorial. It was shortly after. The damage she took healed quickly, for whatever reason, but it still pissed her off that she was hurt. So, she had been using the shooting range to vent her frustrations— until a homeless man tried breaking into the building. Trace’s warning shot nearly became a fatal shot because her aim was that much better now, ironically enough.

The ‘accumulated experience,’ as Ex called it, increased the level of her class and two of her skills. Improved Accuracy and Deadly Sight. She felt just how seamlessly her hand drifted to the man’s skull. If she had an itchy trigger finger—

Trace shuddered to even finish the thought.

[Have you made a decision?]

She blinked as she heard Ex’s voice. “Made a decision?”

[For your vocation,] he said. [You pulled up your status to choose a vocation, did you not?]

“Oh.” Trace shook her head, standing up. She glanced out the window and saw the sun setting over the horizon. “No, I have not.”

[While I would like to assist you with choosing a more specialised—]

“That’s not it.” Tapping a finger on her phone, she saw no new messages. She unlocked it as she headed to the back and started up the stairs. “I’m not avoiding choosing a vocation because the options you’ve given me are shite. In fact, I’d say they’re all pretty decent.”

A vocation was like a class, except not for fighting. In her status, it appeared right below her class, above her ‘locked’ craft. There wasn’t anything exceptional about a vocation. It was like a job, except you now had skills too.

“Builder, Fisher, Technician, Cleaner. Oh, and Secretary too.” These were examples of vocations Ex offered her. Other than Secretary, Trace found there to be merits for all of them. While Cleaner or Fisher sounded rather degrading, they would only be useful for her day-to-day life.

It was simple, straightforward, and much easier to understand than a ‘class.’ But that came with its own load of issues.

“I’m just not sure which of these vocations I’d like to choose, Ex. That’s all.” Trace’s indecision might have come from her upbringing and how everything was always decided for her. “They’re all neat, but that’s just it. Nothing really stands out to me. Not like having a craft would.”

Now, a craft actually piqued Trace’s interest. That was because it wasn’t just a handy extra thing to have. According to Ex, it was the pursuit of one’s passion. Art. Music. Ideas. Creativity. The System allowed it all to flow from the abstract into something more concrete.

Trace was pretty sure that meant she’d get a class but for leisure. Unfortunately, it was ‘locked.’

[Delaying choosing a vocation means delaying getting a craft, Trace Taylor.]

“I know that. I know that.” Ex had already explained it to her when she first left the tutorial: to unlock your craft, you needed to reach level 10 for both your class and your vocation.

It was an odd requirement. If Trace had to guess why that was the case, she’d assume it was to ensure that most people levelled their class and vocation, instead of focusing only on their craft.

Trace was always an artsy person. But her parents made her learn music instead. She spent so much time learning the piano and studying, she never could practice her art enough to get good at it. By the time she had any autonomy for herself, she had lost interest in art. Now, though, if she could have skills like she did for her class to help her rapidly improve her art, then she’d like to give it a try at least.

She pulled the door to her room open— a guest room, right across from Liz’s, with the bathroom smooshed in between. It was plain, not decorated with the posters she’d like to have on the walls since she left her home in a hurry. “I’ll figure it out later, Ex. When I wake up.”

With a yawn, she sank into her bed. She was an early bird, always waking up at dawn, a habit since young.

[Affirmative], Ex said and spoke no more.

Plugging in her phone to charge, Trace quickly unlocked it and opened her messenger app. She tapped on one of her contacts.

Liz the bitch <3:
- Hey
- Gonna b entering the D
- U shld come next time
- No connection inside, ttyl!

Trace T:
- kk
- when will you be back?

There was no response. Trace glanced at the top of the screen, right below Liz’s name.

Last seen:
- 9 hours ago

She sighed. You’re going to spend the night in the Dungeon again, aren’t you? Trace quickly typed one last message before putting her phone down and going to sleep.

Trace T:
- locked the door cuz weirdos keep showing up
- text me if u need me to open it

* * *

Trace jolted awake as she heard glass shattering from the first floor. She snatched her phone up, looking at the time. It was just past midnight. Liz hadn’t replied. And she pursed her lip. Just fucking great. It better not be another homeless—

There was a crash, and she hurriedly grabbed her gun as she got out of bed. Whoever was down there didn’t just wander in by accident. They were here with a purpose.

The couple from earlier?

She crept down the stairs, holding her breath, only to see a single figure standing inside the firing room. Trace narrowed her eyes.

Who the fuck is that?

He seemed to speak, a muffled voice seeping through the doorway. “How quaint, for such a place to be. I see. Mayhaps it’s best for me to take my leave.”

Is he high?

Killshot Apocalypse 4

Trace Taylor crouched in the lobby of The Evergreen Gun Range, her back against the wall, a thin slit of windowpane right above her head. She saw broken glass strewn across the front door. Someone who clearly didn’t understand the meaning of the word inconspicuous had smashed his way in and was now monologuing to himself in the firing room as he made wide and sweeping gestures.

“And yet, this placid place may suit my needs.” There was a pause. Trace peeked through the crack of the door, seeing the dark figure incline his head and place a hand on his chin. “Do you surmise the same, RQ-3-3?” His voice was almost rhythmic; it seemed to jump and leap from one word to another, hopping over a metre with each syllable. Unstressed, stressed. Unstressed, stressed. Repeat.

RQ-33? That had to be his AI. So, he wasn’t just giving a speech to himself. The realisation made Trace furrow her brows. Wait, is that what I sound like when I’m talking to you all alone, Ex?

[Affirmative.]

She scowled. That was a rhetorical question.

The man— the intruder— shuttled across the tufted carpet, his footsteps softly muffled as he beheld the targets at the back wall. “These shadows plague my sight, come lambent light.” Specks and motes of dying embers came to life by his fingertips. An inchoate flame was borne from the darkness, a lugubrious display of magic betraying his ardour. “I spot a seat. This soft divan for me.”

Trace watched as he made himself comfortable on a chair. The sight of seeing someone create flames from nothing would’ve left her speechless a week ago, and it was still oddly disconcerting, but now it was also just a fact of life. She was more concerned about how she didn’t know what to do.

Call the police? The intruder appeared to be harmless— just a crazy homeless man trying to find a place to sleep. Except, he didn’t dress like one. He wore tapered trousers and a turtleneck sweater, with his blond hair gelled back and a set of spectacles on his face. Fair-skinned and fancily dressed, he either stole everything he had, or he was a rich twat with a lawyer for a father. Those types believed they could do whatever they wanted because their dad would save their arses.

She wasn’t having any of that; Trace pulled out her phone as she headed through the kitchen back to the stairs, preparing to phone the cops. Her brightness was set to one per cent— she wasn’t going to blind herself in the middle of the night with a flashbang. Setting a single foot up the first step, she unlocked her phone and—

Ding!

The redhead halted mid-step. She glanced down at her phone and saw a notification pop up.

Liz the bitch <3:
- K

Ding!

Liz the bitch <3:
- This D is hella LIT

Ding!

Liz the bitch <3:
- U shld defo come w me next time

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Trace hurried to switch her phone to vibrate as she heard a shuffling. The messages kept coming. Why was she so goddamned stupid? She disabled silent mode before she went to sleep so Liz could call her if she didn’t bring her keys or lost them.

Ghost-quiet footsteps crept out of the firing room as Trace swiveled around. The intruder loomed over her from across the kitchen, and she hid her arms behind her back. The prickling feeling of ants crawled down her fingertips, itching for her pistol. She bit back against it, instead fumbling her other hand for her phone, dialing 9… 1… 1.

“It seems I’m not alone as I believed,” he said, amused. “How long have you been hiding there, young miss?”

“Me, hiding?” She squinted as she heard the soft beep from her phone. The muffled voice of a female operator was barely audible a moment after.

“Hello, 9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“You’re the one fucking breaking and entering The Evergreen Gun Range. I should be asking you that question!”

“Hiding? Perhaps you have mistaken me.” He gestured at the shattered window. “I have not been discreet in coming in.”

“The Evergreen Gun Range… is that at South 3rd Street?”

“Yes,” Trace said.

For whatever reason, the man smiled. “The air has cleared so now surcease, young miss.”

“That’s not going to happen.” She raised her pistol as the operator asked her to stay on the line. The man stood by the firing room, about ten metres away from Trace, the small wisp of flame still hovering over his shoulder. “Don’t you fucking move. The police are on their way.”

Like a deciduous tree in the autumn, his languorous demeanour vanished. “This taste, how so acerbic on my tongue. Do you condemn me to perdition, miss?”

“Stop talking like that.” Trace dropped her phone, still on the line with the operator. Gripping her pistol with both her hands, she aimed for his head.

“I thought to have entreated your goodwill. Alas, it has become uncouth. So, die.” He snapped his fingers, and she fired a shot.

Trace winced as she did, fearing that she may have just ended a man’s life. It was a stupid thing to think in the moment. But she had her own problems to worry about, so she didn’t mull over it for more than a millisecond. The man’s hovering flame flickered into a spark, turning into a bolt of lightning and streaking out.

She threw herself to the side as it tore apart the walls, shredding the concrete on the stairs. Grains of dust and smoke clouded the dark room as Trace scrambled behind a kitchen sink. She poked her head out as the destruction settled. Is he? ...

Her eyes grew wide. The man raised his hand, and the bullet was slowing its approach. Finally, it stopped completely and dropped to the ground with a clink.

“How is he doing that?” She couldn’t help but stare for a moment. “What is he?”

[Energy Caster – Lvl 15.]

“Level 15? He’s three times my fucking level!”

A wicked grin appeared on the man’s face. “Perhaps you should have paid obeisance first.” He raised a hand, and everything in a cone in front of him began to burn.

Trace managed to fire another two shots before making a mad dash away from the flames. The kitchen sink burst open, and water sprayed out, but it wasn’t enough to quell the fire. It leapt and raged— a roiling red stained black by the shadows it stole.

Once again, the man halted the bullets with some kind of magic. Their kinetic energy rapidly decreased the closer it got to him before losing the force behind it to stay afloat. Trace’s dash brought the man out of sight as he disappeared behind a wall. She readied for him to enter the kitchen, her gun raised and steady.

But another flash of electricity shot out, bouncing across the metal in the room, coming straight for her. Dropping her pistol, Trace rolled to the side. The lightning struck the metallic gun, sparkling over its surface as the man sauntered in.

He was apoplectic. Whatever affable front he previously wore deformed into fury and rage. His gaze was focused on the phone Trace dropped. The operator was still on the line, the number clearly visible on the screen.

“This could’ve been resolved with peace. Now, I have to kill you.” He flicked a finger, and her phone exploded.

“That cost me nearly a grand, you bloody arsehole!” Trace stood up, hands raised, pistol flashing into her fingers. Five shots rang out, each of them stopped by the man as expected. The magazine should’ve been empty. But Trace squeezed the trigger once more.

A bright light lit up the room. A magical bullet shot out, dyeing the kitchen with its gleaming blue glow. It streaked through the air like a solid line, headed straight for the man. He frowned before vanishing.

Her Last in the Chamber skill blasted the wall apart. It was as if someone had detonated a small explosive where it struck. The debris bounced off the floor, striking pots and pans, knocking them off the countertops and clanging on the ground.

Trace lowered her weapon, blinking. Where did the man go? It was like his entire body blurred before he took a single step. Surely, she didn’t blow him apart, did she?

Gritting her teeth, she quickly reloaded her pistol. She kept spare magazines on her after her meeting with ‘Bob’ and dealing with the tutorial sequence. She snapped her weapon between the kitchen entrance and the stairway at the corner. Those were the only places the man could’ve gone.

He leapt out from the stairs, and Trace frantically fired shot after shot. The bullets barely whizzed by him, ricocheting off the back wall as he raised a finger. Everything he pointed at began to smoulder. This radiation struck her on the shoulder as she ducked under a counter.

“Fuck.” She grasped at the red mark. It had instantly burnt through her jacket, but the actual injury wasn’t too bad. Still, it fucking hurt.

[Trace Taylor,] Ex said, causing her to jerk back.

“What is it, Ex? Can’t you see I’m a tiny little bit busy right now?” An oppressive heat bore down on her as flames flickered overhead.

[It is not recommended to continue this engagement. His level far exceeds yours.]

“I’d like to do that, if he wasn’t trying to fucking murder me!” Without looking, she shot in the direction of the man. One thing she noticed was that he never attacked her when he was blocking her attacks. That gave her a moment to act.

The loud bang of a gunshot would cause anyone to flinch, even if it wasn’t aimed at them. The man halted his attack for a second, and Trace ran out. She fired more shots straight at his head, and he caught it with his magic. But she interspersed them. One for every two steps she took. It forced the man to back up as he blocked her attacks until she fully closed the distance between them.

Trace heard a click as she reached him before flipping her weapon over in her hand. She tried to pistol-whip him as he made a sound. The attack slowed too. She narrowed her eyes as she felt the gun grow heavy but not her arm itself. So, it only affects non-living things.

She let go of her weapon and punched him in the face. The man recoiled… then sneered. “Do you believe you’re stronger than a man?” He struck out with his own fist, but she stepped back.

Thank you, boxing lessons. However— Trace didn’t follow up with a jab or a hook. She didn’t throw an uppercut then a cross. He was a twenty-something-year-old man, and she was a barely eighteen-year-old girl. She wasn’t deluded into thinking she was stronger than him, especially when she only took two years of self-defence.

Maybe if she chose to become a Warrior, she’d be physically stronger than him. Or maybe if she levelled more, saw a boost with her traits as her class evolved, then she could overpower him, but that was only if he didn’t see his own increase in strength from levelling up.

No, Trace only had one advantage over him. She stepped into his guard, feinting a right hand. The man raised his arms to block it, and she kneed him in the balls. Hard.

“Hghghhh—” Air squeaked out of his lungs in a weird sound. He doubled over, grasping his man parts as the pain echoed through his body. Whatever laurels or approbation he may have had over Trace was forgotten, and she snatched her pistol back up and hit him in the back of the head.

He collapsed as she backed up—

[You have defeated an Energy Caster – Lvl 15!

(G) Improved Accuracy has reached level 5!

(G) Improved Accuracy has reached level 6!

(F+) Recall Weapon has reached level 3!

Spellshot has reached level 5!

Spellshot has reached level 6!]

Killshot Apocalypse 5

“Wait.”

Trace stared at the fallen man— the intruder who broke into The Evergreen Gun Range and tried to murder her. She beat him in battle, but…

“Is he dead?” She couldn’t help but ask the question; experience was distributed, and she levelled twice. So, didn’t that mean she killed him?

[Negative,] Ex said, much to her relief. [He is merely unconscious. However, it is recommended that you do kill him now that you have the opportunity since doing so will grant you additional experience due to your level differ—]

“Ex.” Trace cut him off and took a deep breath.

[Affirmative?]

“Please piss off.”

[Affirmative.]

Sighing, Trace sat down on the man’s back. She stayed there for a while, waiting for the police to arrive. I’m not going to take my eyes off him for even a single moment. He was dangerous, contrary to her first impression of him. If I go to the garage to grab some rope, he’s definitely disappearing like a serial killer in a horror movie…

[To prevent that, you can—]

"I'm not going to kill him, Ex,” Trace said before the AI could even finish.

[If he wakes up, he will be violent. He will attack you.]

And as if that was a signal, the man groused. "Urk..."

“I see.” Trace nodded. And she struck him on the back of the head.

Thonk!

"If he wakes up, I'll just do that." It really was that simple. The man likely had a concussion— he wouldn’t be able to do anything to her in this state.

All Trace had to do was wait for a bit, and the police would arrive and apprehend him.

"Where am?..."

Thonk!

Any minute now.

“My head—”

Thonk!

Any…

"Hngng..."

Thonk!

"When are the police going to get here? Fucking hell!" At this rate, Ex was going to get what he wanted, and Trace was going to be a murderer. Or was it a manslaughter charge? Technically, this was self-defence, so she couldn’t really get in trouble if the police arrived and found her standing over the man’s corpse.

Thirty minutes and another strike to the back of the head later, red and blue lights flashed outside of The Evergreen Gun Range, the sounds of a police siren washing over Trace’s ears like a cool bath. She lowered her weapon and stood up.

“In here!”

A pair of police officers cautiously made their way into the damaged kitchen. They took in the scene and the downed man, before Trace gave them a rundown of what happened.

* * *

“You did a good job today, Trace Taylor.” The police officer that spoke was a Latina woman named Veronica. She patted Trace on the shoulder, giving the redhead an approving look.  “Thanks to you, we’ve managed to apprehend an extremely dangerous criminal.”

“Who is he?” Trace looked past Veronica. The other officer was loading the now-conscious and very dishevelled man into the back of the cruiser.

“Adair Russell,” Veronica said. “Better known online as Adair the Great. You can look him up. He’s famous for being the 9th highest-levelled individual according to leveltracker.com.”

“Wait— 9th highest-levelled in the world?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Just in the United States. He’s somewhere in the top 70 or 80 in the world. At least, that’s what the website says.”

Trace went cross-eyed. “Are you… are you serious?”

“Very. But even worse than that— he’s a prominent member of the Precursors of Peace.”

“Oh.” The redhead was speechless. “You mean the terrorist group?” That was what world governments were calling them.

There was a scoff, and Adair poked his head out of the police car, still handcuffed. “I wouldn’t stoop so low to join their cause.” He continued his odd speech pattern a moment longer before pausing. When he continued, he spoke normally for the first time. “The Precursors of Peace aren’t dangerous; they’re simply edified by fools. Even then, they’re right about one thing: society as we know it will continue cascading into the void, faster and faster by the day. A vacuum shall open up, and only the wisest will climb that pedestal.”

“Yeah, yeah. Please shut up.” The other officer shoved him back in and slammed the door shut. “Hurry up, Veronica. We have literally a hundred other emergency calls to deal with after we’re done here.”

“Right, I’m on my way.”

As if that was some sort of cue, multiple gunshots— even an explosion— resounded in the distance. There were screams. Shouts. Then silence.

Veronica pursed her lips. “I’ve got to go now. But before I do— look, I really don’t want to say this, but you can’t really rely on us to deal with your problems anymore. By that, I mean anyone, even the police. Half our officers walked out on the first day, and half of those remaining left since then. You got lucky this time, but if someone you can’t deal with tries breaking into your shop next time around, you should either run or hide. Don’t call us. We won’t arrive in time.”

So, that was why they took three hours to get here. “I will,” Trace said, before hesitating. “Are you sure you can deal with him?”

She felt nervous for the police officers now that she knew who Adair was. Surely, if he was that high levelled, he’d easily be able to break himself free from jail, right? Veronica was only a level 7 Ranger, while her partner was a level 8 Warrior.

And yet, Veronica nodded. “Adair may be one of the highest-levelled in the world, but that’s only for his class. Me? I’m one of the highest-levelled in the world for my vocation.” She winked and started back for the cruiser. “He’ll have a lot of trouble dealing with my level 10 skills as an Enforcer of Law.”

“Seriously?” Trace watched the officers leave as more bangs and shouts could be heard from a nearby street. “Ex, why didn’t you tell me what her vocation was?”

[Unfortunately, whether a class, vocation, or craft is displayed depends on the individual themselves.]

“Why didn’t you tell me I could do that?”

[It was not necessary as you do not have a vocation.]

“…right.”

Spinning around, Trace returned to the kitchen and halted when she saw the damage that had been done: water was leaking from a broken pipe while fire burned in a straight line across the table counter; pots and pans and knives and plates were knocked off the shelves and onto the tiled floor; and there was a gaping hole between the stairway and the entryway.

“Ugh, I’m going to have to clean all this up, aren’t I?”

“Oh my god!” A voice drew her attention. She blinked and turned to face a startled Liz with her hands over her mouth. “Trace, are you alright? What happened here?”

“It’s… Shakespeare paid me a visit, I guess? I don’t fucking know.”

* * *

There was a lot to explain, but Trace told Liz the gist of what happened just a few hours before. Liz flew into a rage, wanting to march straight to the police station and shank Adair. After a few steps, she collapsed and passed out, exhausted from her day of fighting in the Dungeon.

She was covered in grime and dirt and green ichor. Blood from monsters, Trace surmised. Liz must have been busy since she was already at level 11 despite being level 8 a few hours prior.

Trace hauled Liz to her bed before returning to the kitchen once more. She would have given her best friend a quick shower if she didn’t have more pressing matters to attend to. “Alright, Ex. It’s time for me to choose a vocation.”

[Affirmative. As previously mentioned, the commonly chosen list of basic vocations is as foll—]

“No,” she said. “I already have a vocation in mind. I’d like to be a Builder, so I can fix all this shit.”

[Vocation found:

Builder – A basic vocation designed for building and repairing structures or objects.

Trait Growth:

Strength: E to E+
Magic: F+ to F+
Endurance: F+ to E-
Vitality: F+ to F+
Dexterity: E+ to D-

Skills Gained:

(G) Quick Hands – Your speed of working with tools is enhanced.

(F) Makeshift Materials – You have the keen ability to use unconventional materials effectively for building.

(F+) Rapid Repair – You can work thrice as fast when building or fixing things for up to an hour. Can be used once a day. Cooldown will decrease for each skill level gained.

Do you accept this vocation?]

“Sure, if it means I can be done with this and go to sleep sooner.”

[Affirmative,] Ex said. [You are now a Builder.]

Name: Trace Taylor

Race: Human (Earth A314)

Class: Spellshot – Lvl 6

Vocation: Builder – Lvl 1

Craft: Locked

Traits:

Strength: E+
Magic: F+
Endurance: E-
Vitality: F+
Dexterity: D-

Skills:

Class Skills:
(G) Improved Accuracy – Lvl 6
(F) Deadly Sight – Lvl 3
(F+) Last in the Chamber – Lvl 2
(F+) Recall Weapon – Lvl 3

Vocation Skills:
(G) Quick Hands – Lvl 1
(F) Makeshift Materials – Lvl 1
(F+) Rapid Repair – Lvl 1

“Cool. So, I can now just? ...” Trace waved a hand, unsure whether she had to say something to activate her new skills.

[Now, you will need to acquire tools and materials before you can get to work.]

“Oh, right.”

It wasn’t easy work; it was quite laborious. Most of the flames had already become nothing more than a smoulder through time alone, but she still had to grab a pail full of water to extinguish the rest.

She proceeded to wrench the leaking pipe shut and went to the garage to find spare materials. Using a stack of extra flooring Liz's father had been intending to renovate with, she boarded up the broken window and all the other windows for good measure, before using what was left to fix the unsightly hole in the wall. Her Rapid Repair skill proved to be as useful as she thought it would be, reducing a whole night’s worth of work to two hours.

“Fuck. My phone’s broken.” Trace halted right by a scorch mark on the floor. Bits and chunks of the electronic were scattered haphazardly around the room. If one looked at it as it was now, they wouldn’t even know it had been a phone. “Think I can use my vocation to fix this?”

[Negative.]

“Thought so.”

Sweeping up all the shards of broken plates and glass, she dumped them in a trash bag and disposed of it on the pavement outside.

Trace only paused when she heard more gunshots ring out in the distance; it made her contemplate for just a moment. It had only been a week since the Esvol came and implanted a femtochip in everyone, supposedly integrating Earth into the multiverse. The world had gone mad in that short time.

She thought the first day where millions of workers around the globe collectively walked out of their jobs was already the end of the disaster, but when hundreds of millions of people quit their jobs and murder rates skyrocketed even further in the days that came after, it turned out that people were still reeling from the change. They still retained some sense of normalcy from before this apocalypse then, only starting to realise how real this was after a night’s sleep. Now, as the first week came to an end and the second week began, Trace knew—

“For fuck’s sake… this means I won’t be able to buy a new phone, doesn’t it?”

[Negative,] Ex said.

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

[Affirmative.]

Locking the door of The Evergreen Gun Range behind her, Trace headed up the stairs and sunk into her bed with only one thing on her mind.

This was just the beginning of the end of times. And things were only going to escalate from here on out.

[(G) Quick Hands has reached level 2!

(G) Quick Hands has reached level 3!

(F) Makeshift Materials has reached level 2!

(F+) Rapid Repair has reached level 2!

(F+) Rapid Repair has reached level 3!

Builder has reached level 2!

Builder has reached level 3!]

“Oh, piss off! I’m trying to sleep!”

[Affirmative,] Ex said.

Killshot Apocalypse 6

LEVELTRACKER.COM

Region: United States of America

Category: Class

Sorted by: Levels

1. Galahad Gryphon – Lvl 18
2. Andrew Fraser – Lvl 17
3. Tyrone J. Allen – Lvl 17
4. Amber Young – Lvl 17
5. Hiro Tatsuki – Lvl 17
6. Lucia Gomez – Lvl 17
7. S. Arthur D. – Lvl. 16
8. Jason Li – Lvl 16
9. Gabriel R. – Lvl 16
10. The Cursed Witch Elenora – Lvl 16

“There’s no fucking way Galahad Gryphon is a real name.” Trace scrolled through leveltracker.com, scowling. “Neither is S. Arthur D. real. And The Cursed Witch Elenora? You just sound like a massive twat.”

Apparently, you could submit whatever name you wanted to the website, but the legitimacy of their levels at the top was verified since they were all public figures. Trace clicked on a link next to Galahad Gryphon’s name, showing an interview with the man just last night. He donned a knight’s helmet, its visor pulled down to mask his face.

“I believe the reason why I’ve levelled so quickly is that I’m just different,” he said in a tinny voice. He stood right outside a massive tower— a Dungeon of some sort— as a crowd of hundreds gathered behind him in awe.

“And what do you think makes you so special?” the reporter asked.

“Well, you see—”

“Galahad Gryphon!” A man leapt out from the crowd, drawing a pair of daggers from his waist. He sliced for Galahad’s neck, but the knight effortlessly parried the swing with his broadsword.

The reporter stumbled back as the two engaged in battle. “As you c-can see, Galahad Gryphon has just been attacked by a bystander. That’s… I believe that’s Hayden Marshall! The second highest-levelled man in America! They’re locked in incredible combat and—”

Galahad decapitated the other man. Blood splattered all over the reporter, and she screamed. The camera shook as Trace grimaced. She didn’t expect that, but it happened so quickly she barely even registered it. A figure walked into the frame and picked up the microphone.

“I have been playing video games all my life,” Galahad said. “They called me a loser. A stain on society. But now— the world has become my playground. Chan Lizhou! I know you’re watching this! I will surpass you!”

The video ended there as Trace massaged her forehead. Galahad was the fourth highest in the world, with the first and third being from China, and the second from Ethiopia. To her, however, they were all the same level of insane.

She continued browsing through the website when a thought crossed her mind. “Wait, where even is Adair? He’s not anywhere on the top ten ranking. He’s… number 17?”

[I believe his inactivity since the night before has dropped his placement on the list,] Ex said.

“Seriously? It’s only been— you know what? I’m not going to keep saying it.” But she thought it. Eight hours. That was all it took for Adair to drop ten spots in the United States alone. It was a race. Everyone in the global top 10 was at the same level. It simply ranked them by when they reached that level.

Trace raised her head, her curiosity piqued.

“I wonder what rank I’d be?” She never reported her rank to the website, but she could see the range of all those at level 6 who did. “Woah, I’m way above average.” Out of the hundred million reported users in America, more than half of them were at level 2, and a third of them were at level 1 or 3.

They were mostly children or the elderly. However, quite a significant portion of them were young adults her age too.

“Sixty million people aged 18-30 in the United States reported their levels to leveltracker.com or posted it on social media. Only a million of them are above level 5? And I’m somewhere around the two hundred thousand range at level 6?” She leaned back, whistling. “Woah, I didn’t know I was that awesome.”

[As your tutorial sequence’s difficulty was considered E rank, the levels you gained from it were substantially more significant compared to most individuals.]

Trace creased a brow. “Wait, what are you saying, Ex?”

[Your tutorial sequence was scaled to be more difficult—]

“Yeah, I got that part. But why the fuck did that happen?”

[It was due to your young age and athleticism.]

“Are you fucking serious?” While she did stay physically fit— and, of course, she was young— she didn’t think that’d be enough to throw her into the lion’s den. Or, in this case, the rat’s nest.

[Also, because you had a weapon present with you upon entering the tutorial, it was determined that a simple F- or F rank tutorial sequence would have been too simple for you.]

“Oh.” She was still slightly exasperated, but it made sense. “Fair.”

Trace continued browsing the internet for another half an hour as her digital clock beeped to twelve in the afternoon. She quickly checked her social media one last time, making sure that everyone she knew was safe. She didn’t have a wide social circle, but most of them seemed to be surviving.

Even her parents.

She was just about to shut her laptop when she saw a notification next to their names. With some apprehension, she clicked on the chat.

Mum:
- Your father and I have tried calling you so many times, but you won’t pick up
- And now none of our messages are going through
- Are you safe?

Dad:
- Mum’s very worried. Please respond.

That was all Trace saw. They likely sent her a million texts and called her a million more times since Neo Genesis, but she’d been too afraid to respond. She didn’t even know what to say. And now that her phone was gone, she couldn’t have replied to them if she wanted to.

Well, she could always respond now…

Shaking her head, Trace closed her laptop and headed down.

* * *

“Congrats!” Liz beamed as Trace exited the kitchen with a chicken sandwich.

“What are you congratulating me for?”

The black-haired woman held up her phone, showing a news article. “Our college has officially cancelled classes for the fall and shut down!”

“Are you—” Trace took a deep breath to stop herself from cursing. “Aren’t they at least going to give us a refund? I already paid for the first semester.”

“Nope.” Liz shrugged. “Not like it matters though. Money is quickly becoming worthless. I hear the price of gold is skyrocketing, at least. Maybe we should invest in some.” She glanced over at the television as a pair of news anchors talked about how the current economy was far worse than the Great Depression.

“Can you show another channel? I hate PNS.”

“No can do. Most of the other news stations are down.” She raised the remote and cycled through a bunch of dead channels before going back. “I know that the news at PNS can get longwinded at times. And PNS always disseminates thick information. So, I get that it’s hard listening to PNS. But it’s all that’s left.”

Trace narrowed her eyes. “You’re doing that on purpose.”

“No cap.” Grinning, Liz switched off the television.

“You didn’t even do it well.”

“What am I not doing well? PNS?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Trace pulled a chair out and set her plate down. She spoke between each bite, addressing her best friend.

“So, how’d you do in the Dire Pits yesterday? You were in there for over twelve hours.”

“Didn’t reach the boss room.” Liz sighed. “Got too tired. But I made some friends.”

“Friends?”

“Yep. Or I guess they’re party members? That’s what they were calling themselves. They invited me to go with them to the Dire Pits today. But only in the evening since Dungeons are less crowded at night.”

Trace halted mid-bite. “Are you sure that’s safe?” She recalled the video of Galahad she watched just earlier; everyone was trying to kill each other for whatever levels they could gain. “It may be a ruse to kill you.”

“If they wanted to kill me, they’d have done it yesterday.” Shrugging, Liz kicked her foot up onto the table. “Each of them was higher-levelled than me, and they outnumbered me.”

“That’s true…” Still, the redhead twisted her lips. “This could be a case of fattening a pig before eating it.”

“Hey, are you calling me fat?”

“Well, yes. But no.” Liz rolled her eyes, and Trace continued. “I just don’t know if you should trust these strangers you just met with your life, you know? You never know who’s a fucking psycho these days.”

“They didn’t seem like psychos to me.” Sitting up, Liz crossed her arms. “And they even gave me some of their credits too.”

“Credits?”

“It’s these things you get from monsters. You’ve gotta dig it out of them, apparently. I had no idea they were even a thing.” She set down what looked like small credit cards on the table. They were white with a thin slit of grey, and there were numbers inscribed on them.

“100 credits.” Trace raised an eyebrow. “And these are worth something?”

“I dunno. I hear that the Precursors of Peace want them. You need, like, a million credits or something to open one of those Gates.”

“So, they gave you things that are only valuable to psychos. And you’re telling me they’re not psychos?”

“Look,”— Liz scowled, standing up— “if you’re that worried about me, why not just come with me to the Dire Pits? t’s not like you’re any safer in here after what happened last night. And you’ve already fully recovered somehow. Plus, you really should be levelling more. From what you told me about last night, you got lucky that the guy attacking you was an idiot who couldn’t keep his mouth shut.”

Trace hesitated. She had made herself clear that she wasn’t a big fan of the whole levels and killing monsters thing. Yet, the events of the previous night stuck with her. Not just with Adair, but the screaming and fighting she kept hearing whenever she stepped foot outside. It was as Veronica had said: you couldn’t rely on anyone but yourself anymore.

In a sense, this was the independence and freedom Trace wanted. Just terribly perverted. But she still could act.

“Fine,” she said.

“If you keep— wait, what?” Her best friend blinked. “I didn’t think you’d be convinced that easily.”

“I’m stubborn.” She let out a scoff. “Not stupid.”

“I’m pretty sure you got that wrong. It’s stubborn and stupid.”

Trace didn’t entertain that quip with a response. “I thought the world wouldn’t be as fucked as it is after the first day, but things are getting worse every minute. If this is just how things are now, I’ve got to look out for myself— and those I care about.”

“Trace…” Liz’s eyes widened. “That’s… aww, that’s so sweet. Wait, let me just post that on social media really quick—" She hurriedly typed on her phone, and the redhead snorted.

That was her best friend. Elizabeth Evergreen. Couldn’t ever take herself seriously. But deep down, past her carefree smile and relaxed brown eyes, there was a true friend.

Trace finished her sandwich and left her plate in the dishwasher. The kitchen sink was still broken— maybe she’d be able to fix it later with her Builder vocation. It was entirely contingent on whether any hardware stores were even open. Speaking of…

“Do you think I’d be able to get a replacement phone from the nearby Pear shop?”

Liz looked up, pretending to think. “Probably not.”

“Fuck.”

* * *

Before leaving with Liz that evening, Trace made sure she was fully prepared for the Dire Pits. She prepared a bag full of ammunition and food and drinks before equipping a full set of Kevlar. After adjusting her red scarf in the mirror, she slid a combat knife into its sheath and loaded her pistol.

“Watch Liz’s back, and don’t get yourself killed.” She couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t anxious. The videos and streams she saw of the Dungeons always made it look so dangerous. Well, they had to be dangerous, considering that thousands of people were dying from delving into them each day.

Would she even come out alive? She hoped so. But if she didn’t—

Trace caught sight of her laptop in the mirror. It was closed. Shut from this morning. And it called to her.

She didn’t want to touch it. She didn’t want to open it. Even still, she pulled up the screen and logged into her social media.

Typing two quick sentences, Trace closed her laptop once again and hurried down at Liz’s incessant calling. “I’m coming, I’m coming. Will you shut up already, Liz?”

Trace T to Mum and Dad:
- my phone is broken, but im fine
- please stay safe

Killshot Apocalypse 7

[(G) Quick Hands has reached level 4!

(F) Makeshift Materials has reached level 3!

(F+) Rapid Repair has reached level 4!

Builder has reached level 4!]

“Alright,”— Trace dusted her hands— “that’s all boarded up. Hopefully, no one tries to break in while we’re gone.”

“Who cares if they do. What, are they going to take the guns we can’t use? Take the money that’s worthless?” Liz rolled her eyes. “Let’s go already!”

The pair started down the pavement, heading out of the city. The Evergreen Gun Range lay at the periphery of Liberapolis. The rectangular-shaped building rose up two floors, its windows and its front door boarded up by wood and metal— a haphazard job done by Trace with her vocation’s skills.

It had been a week since Neo Genesis. Trace had scarcely gone out since she’d been recovering. But so much had changed in that short period of time. The streets were empty— an incredibly unusual sight even at the city’s outer edge.

There were a few people milling about, but they kept to themselves, warily glancing over at Trace’s pistol and Liz’s sword. Was there any reason to fear everyone you met? Most people remained sane even after all that happened. The problem was with the mad minority: they could do whatever they wanted as they were empowered and rewarded for their actions.

Trace couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t suspicious of each person they nearly ran into on the way out of the city— not after the events of last night— but thankfully, nothing happened. And whether that was because they managed to avoid the crazy people or because of Liz’s high level… Trace wasn’t sure.

They left the city and crested a small hill. Trace glanced back at Liberapolis, squinting as the tall buildings of downtown reflected the sunset. She looked past it, where the city transitioned into a more suburban neighbourhood. It was a familiar area to Trace. She'd travelled that route probably a thousand times. But something stood out. An edifice that wasn’t there before.

“There it is.” Liz’s gaze settled on the same structure. “One of the Gates everyone’s talking about.”

It was an archway crafted from the clouds themselves. Even from afar, it exuded an ethereal aura. Motes of glittering dust were wisping off it like cold ash from a dying ember. It was raised atop a pedestal of steep stairs, girdled by smaller archways from all cardinal directions. Entrances that let anyone through it.

Except, not just anyone could cross those smaller archways. A barrier repelled most people from stepping a single foot into the structure. And when they did, the AI in their head would tell them a simple thing:

You are not allowed to enter this area as you have not hit level 30 in either your class, vocation, or craft.

As of a few hours ago, Trace was certain no one had met that requirement yet. It wasn’t even close. “I don’t get why everyone’s so obsessed with it,” she said. “It probably leads you to the world those Esvol-freaks came from.”

“Sheesh, Trace. Aren’t you at least a little bit interested in what another world looks like?”

“Not enough that I’d lose my mind over it.”

“Fair.” Liz chuckled. “And I agree. I’m more interested in the Dungeons. It’s only a few more miles away.”

* * *

Surprisingly, Trace spotted more and more people the closer she and Liz got to the Dire Pits. They weren’t hyper-paranoid either, watching their backs at every moment. They almost seemed normal.

A group of four was laughing and chatting amongst themselves as they passed. They were drenched in sweat and covered in grime, and yet their mood was anything but tainted. It reminded Trace of a group of friends heading home after football— proper football, not American football— practice.

When the Dungeon was a mile away, Trace started to see the occasional pitched tent with people eating their dinner by a campfire. There was an open field littered with these colourful tents like it was a public park or a popular picnic place. It gave Trace a sense of normalcy for a moment.

Just a moment.

Then she caught sight of a tent sprayed with blood. A shadow lay unmoving within, and she stopped looking.

“So, erm, where are your friends?”

Liz raised her head. “I’m not actually sure. They said they’d meet me at the… oh, there they are!” She pointed at a trio sitting on a large rock. They were given a wide berth by the gathered crowds as if they were on their own little island separated from everyone else.

The black-haired woman sauntered up to them, waving a hand.

“Yo! I brought a friend with me if you guys don’t mind.”

They barely look up at her. One of them, a lanky man with brown hair, nodded distractedly. “Yeah, sure.” He turned his attention back to his phone.

Trace raised a brow. “These are your friends?”

“I mean, I just met them yesterday.” Shrugging, Liz peered over their shoulders. “What are you guys watching?”

“A livestream,” the only woman said. She was dressed in dark clothing with mascara drawn too thickly over her eyes. Her hair was dyed pink, and one of her sleeves was torn off to reveal a tribal tattoo on her arm. “God, I fucking love her.”

The sound of an explosion came from the phone as Trace raised a brow. “Who’s that?” A figure cackled with her arms spread wide amidst raging purple flames.

“The Cursed Witch Elenora.” It was the last of the three to speak this time. He seemed foreign— a half-Asian man with tanned skin who spoke with formality. “She’s taking on the Shrouded Cave’s boss right now. We’re watching it to analyse her strategy.”

“Except, she’s doing it solo.”

“Like the fucking queen that she is. Go, girl!”

Trace frowned as she heard someone speaking through the livestream. The hoarse but high-pitched voice of Elenora. She was uttering a fake incantation.

“Fire borne of my blood and ice stolen from my heart, bring down my foe and— and— a—"

And the stream cut. The brown-haired man paused. He tried to reload the website as the chat was flooded with messages, but the stream was dead.

“Come on! It was getting to the good part. Ugh.” The goth-like girl threw her hands up as the brown-haired man kept hitting refresh.

A sigh came from the half-Asian man as he stood up. He faced Liz before turning to Trace. “Sorry ‘bout that.” He bowed slightly as he spoke. “We weren’t prepared for The Cursed Witch herself to go live as she tackles an E ranked Dungeon. We had to watch— if only to see how she does it.”

“It’s fine.” Liz waved a hand off and stepped to the side. “This is Trace, my best friend. And Trace, this is Ken.”

“Erm, hey.” Trace gave him a nod. “Sorry for showing up so suddenly, but Liz forced me to come.”

He just smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Trace." He glanced over at the man and the woman cursing and scrolling through their social media for any update on the cut stream. “Those two are Jakob with a k and Kat also with a k. And there’s no need to fret. More people in the party means we can get further into the Dungeon, so it’s good for us. In fact, I should be the one apologising for my friends’ lack of manners.”

Kat blinked. Then she scowled. “I heard that.”

“And you still haven’t greeted our new friend.”

“Hi, or whatever.”

“Hey.” Jakob was trying to find another stream when he stopped his scrolling. His eyes widened. “You’ve got to be— her ISP cut off her internet access.”

“They what?” Kat began to pace around and mutter. “Those bastards, how dare they fucking—”

Trace watched as two of the trio seemed to have a meltdown before looking over at Liz. The redhead gave her best friend a look as if saying, “Are you sure about this?”

Liz shrugged again. “As I said, met them yesterday.”

“We’re just big fans of The Cursed Witch,” Ken said. “She’s one of the few high-levelled people in the West who regularly streams what she does.”

“And it’s fucking stupid that they’re blocking her streams! How will we know what the difference between an E rank Dungeon and an F rank Dungeon is without risking our lives now?”

Trace eyed Kat. “Does she not know any other swear words?”

“You’re one to talk.” Liz snorted.

“It’s not like ISPs will be around for much longer.” Jakob locked his phone and pocketed it “There are already threads of Engineers trying to work together to create an alternate way to provide internet access to everyone before that happens.”

“How will they do that?” Trace faced him.

“Magic, of course.” He started past her as Ken and Kat followed.

Liz took a step, and Trace grabbed her arm. “Wait, where are you guys going?”

“Into the Dire Pits, of course.”

“Just like that?” Trace watched as the trio casually continued their chat. “We’re not going to make any preparations or anything?”

“I mean, you’re prepared, aren’t you?” Liz gestured at the backpack the redhead was carrying. “Going into a Dungeon isn’t as big of a deal as you think, Trace. Just stick with us, and you’ll be fine.”

“…alright then.” After a moment of apprehension, Trace hurried after the group, looking at Ken, Kat, and Jakob one after another. What are their levels, Ex?

[Dual Bladed Rogue – Lvl 12

Pyromancer – Lvl 12

Keen-eyed Ranger – Lvl 11]

They’re that much higher levelled than me, so they must know what they’re doing, right?

* * *

The Dire Pits was, as its name suggested, a pit. Although, Trace wasn’t entirely sure if it was dire. Maybe she’d be able to decide whether or not the first half of its name was misleading once she entered it. For now, she thought a more appropriate name for it was just ‘Giant Fucking Pit.’

…Liz was right, wasn’t she?

[Affirmative.]

“I don’t need your input, Ex,” Trace said, earning a stare from Ken. He gave her an amused look, and she flushed. “Erm, I was…”

“Talking to your AI out loud. Don’t worry, we all do that from time to time.” He smirked and ushered her forward. “After you.”

Trace scratched the back of her head as she walked down the stairs running along the walls of the Dire Pits. It was a long and winding way down into the darkness. According to Liz, the first floor of the Dire Pits was over two hundred feet down. That meant it was a hundred-metre fall if Trace slipped and fell off the stairs.

“Why aren't there any railings? Whoever built this place must’ve been a prick.”

“I don’t think the Esvol had our safety in mind when they filled it with monsters and traps.” Ken ran a hand along the stone wall and tapped a grey object. “Look.” A metallic cylinder barely poked out from the rocks where his finger was. “This trap probably got about a dozen different people on the first day before someone thought to disable it.”

Trace shook her head. “As I said: pricks.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t really think they built this place either.”

“Why not?”

“For one thing, this stone is very different from what’s natural around here.” Trace wasn’t convinced until Ken took out a dagger and jammed it into the wall. “For another, there’s nothing on the other side of it.”

She blinked as a black wall revealed itself behind the peeled rock surface. Trace tried to touch it but felt her hand just refusing to move any further. There was no sound. It wasn’t solid. It was just… there.

“Now this isn’t trippy at all. Yep. Completely normal.”

“To be fair,”— Liz glanced back at her— “nothing's been normal for over a week now. Between the literal end of the world and being kidnapped by a weird octopus woman, this ranks pretty low on the weird scale.”

“That doesn’t make it any better.”

“It’s not supposed to.”

They reached the first floor of the Dire Pits not long after. Moonlight barely peeked through the hole above. It was not enough to see clearly. Fortunately, Trace was smart enough to bring a torch.

“I’ve got this—”

She paused as a bright fire flickered to life in a ball above them. Kat held a hand up, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, erm, or you could just do that.”

“Are you a fucking amateur or something?”

“I think we established that earlier when you were busy not listening.” Trace winked at her, and she paused.

“Hey, I might like you.”

Pulling out her pistol, Trace glanced around nervously. “So, where are the monsters?” She expected a dozen different monsters to flock to the group the moment they set foot on the first floor. But it was mostly empty. There was just an empty tunnel that led even further down.

Jakob pressed on. “The first floor should be cleared—”

On cue, something fell from the ceiling. A serpent with a bladed side came out like a whip, snarling at Jakob. He froze up as Kat swore, and Ken reached for his blades. But Trace simply fired a shot.

[You have defeated a Bladeworm – Lvl 7!]

She lowered her handgun, and the trio stared at her. Liz snickered. “You were saying?”

Kat’s mouth hung open. Then she grinned. “I think I really like you.”

Trace shifted on her feet. “Erm... now you’re just making it weird.”

Killshot Apocalypse 8

“Can’t believe you had to be saved by a girl half your fucking level, Jakob.”

“Shut it, Kat.” The brown-haired man glowered as he marched forward into the tunnel. Trace pursed her lips, following hesitantly behind as he produced a large satchel. “I was caught off guard, alright? Bladeworms aren’t even supposed to be on this floor.”

“Still can’t believe you killed it in one shot, Trace.” Liz grinned, elbowing the redhead’s side. “Their skins are tough.”

“I have a skill that helped me find its weak spot,” Trace said. “That’s all.” This became a bigger deal than she thought it’d be. She didn’t expect to annoy Jakob by literally saving his life, but apparently, she did. And it didn’t help that his friends kept taunting him for it.

“Man, if you’re not ready, maybe we should just turn back. Come back when you’re feeling better.” Ken shrugged nonchalantly, and Jakob’s eyes flickered.

“I said—” He stepped forward as something moved in the darkness ahead. Dropping the satchel to the floor, he held a grey metallic object in his hand.

The first of the dark figures lashed out. Trace raised her pistol but didn’t get a chance to help. Jakob cocked his shotgun, firing an ear-splitting blast at the bladeworm. The creature shrieked as his weapon’s sparks briefly lit up the tunnel ahead. More of the undulating shapes crawled on the walls and the ceiling, roughly a metre long, hissing and ready to strike.

Jakob unloaded on them before they could even move. Bang. Pump. Bang. Pump. Bang. Pump. Bang. Bang. Bang. No pump. No reload. The golden streaks homed in on the scattering figures— a feat that defied reality.

A skill.

The last of the bladeworms peeled off to the mossy ground, riddled in gaping holes across their silvery skin.

“I was caught off guard. It won’t happen again.”

He glared back at Ken, who just nodded. “Good.”

Trace stepped apprehensively over the bladeworm corpses as the group pressed forward. “I really didn’t mean to piss him off.”

Liz blinked. “Was he pissed off? Seems more like he’s motivated to me.”

“You call that motivated?”

“I mean, look at him.” She gestured at Jakob as he stormed ahead, clearing the path of bladeworms for the party.

“Save some for the rest of us, you fucker!” Kat tossed a fireball over his shoulders, but he was relentless.

“Seems pretty motivated to me.” Liz chuckled, clearly not convincing herself.

The tunnel continued to wind down, although the swarms of bladeworms didn’t allay; the first floor was brimming with the monsters from the second floor. No one knew why they were here, just that this wasn’t supposed to be normal.

Now that the group was aware of what to expect from every corner they turned, Trace was able to contribute before Kat or Jakob killed them all.

[Your party has defeated a Bladeworm – Lvl 6!] Ex said a variation of the phrase multiple times.

[(G) Improved Accuracy has reached level 7!

(G) Improved Accuracy has reached level 8!

(F) Deadly Sight has reached level 4!

(F) Deadly Sight has reached level 5!

(F) Deadly Sight has reached level 6!

Spellshot has reached level 7!

Spellshot has reached level 8!]

Can you maybe chill? Trace mentally told Ex. You’re giving me a headache.

[Do you wish for me to limit the notifications to only what’s necessary?]

Please.

[Affirmative.]

Thank you, she thought, wondering why she was even bothering being polite with an AI.

“I see you’ve already levelled twice in just a few hours.” Ken glanced at her. “Pretty impressive stuff. I can see why you wanted her to come, Liz.”

“That, and she’s my best friend. I’m not going to leave her to waste away doing nothing at home while I’m out here levelling and being badass.” Unsheathing her blade, Liz sliced a pair of bladeworms in half with a single swing. She stopped to pose as their writhing bodies dropped around her.

“Show off.” Trace snorted.

The party stopped to rest at some point, and the redhead passed out some snacks that she had packed in her bag. Jakob kindly rebuked her— not that she cared. It just meant more granola bars for her.

“I appreciate it.” Ken accepted a bottle of water, glugging it down and splashing it over his face.

“How much further to the second floor?” Trace sat against the stone wall. “This is taking a lot longer than I thought it would.”

“We’re getting close.” He ran a hand through his wet black hair. There was a light sheen reflected from Kat’s flame hovering over the ground. “But even if there were lower-levelled monsters here, we’d still take some time to clear this floor.”

“I thought you guys were experts or something,” she said. “I guess I expected you guys to be a lot more… efficient.” It wasn’t an insult; while they were certainly individually skilled, Trace expected them to have better teamwork. Not this, with Jakob charging in while Kat cursed as she followed right behind.

“We’re not action heroes. We’ve never done anything like this before a week ago. If a hundred men with rifles show up and try to kill us, we’ll probably die.”

“Like the National Guard?” Liz helpfully opined.

“Or the military.” Ken tapped a finger on his chin. “Although, I highly doubt that’d be the case, considering most of those abroad have already deserted.”

“I’m just surprised the government only deployed them to three out of the forty-nine states.”

“Fifty states.” Trace rolled her eyes. “Puerto Rico officially became a state last year, remember?”

“Oh, right. Sucks what happened to California though.”

“Shouldn’t have seceded.”

* * *

“This is the second floor?” Trace Taylor stared down at a deep hole. Its side walls were overgrown with vines and vegetation, and a sickening stench rose from the pit as she pinched her nose and spoke in a suppressed voice. “How are we supposed to get down?”

“We climb. Come on.” Liz waved her forward, beginning a slow descent.

Trace was never a fan of rock climbing: it was tiring, laborious, and dangerous. But, somehow, she didn’t find it too difficult to scale down to the second floor. Is this because of my increased strength and dexterity?

[Affirmative,] Ex said.

This really works like a video game, huh? The wretched smell was only exacerbated once she reached the bottom of the pit.

The second floor wasn’t just a long tunnel that snaked its way down: it was a cavernous room with mounds and forests and streams that expanded for kilometres on end. The party stood at the edge of a cliff, at the very end of one of the back walls. There was an alcove behind them, and that was where the smell was at its strongest.

“Oh god, that’s fucking gross.” Kat reeled back.

Trace made a face of disgust as she saw what the others were looking at. It was a pile of human corpses, crawling and covered with maggots the size of small dogs. Their white mucus-like forms writhed in blood, and they squelched as they noticed the intruders. One of them flopped out of the pile, trying to make its way towards them.

[Larva Bladeworm – Lvl 2.]

“Oof. So, that’s where all the dead bodies went.” Liz peered at the monster. It hopped up like it was trying to strike her leg, but she simply stomped it under her boot. “Is this a nest or something?”

“I don’t fucking know!” Kat stumbled away, gagging and pointing. “Just burn it!”

“You burn it.” Crossing her arms, Liz scoffed. “You’re the Pyromancer here.”

The goth girl hesitated as four heads turned to face her expectantly. Sighing, she drew herself to her feet and unleashed a plume of flames into the alcove. She burned it for five minutes straight, not once letting up to see if they were gone. Only when she was confident the fire would burn by itself did she finally stop. “Now, let’s get out of here.” She scurried off, not even waiting for a response.

Trace raised a brow as she watched Kat go. The party continued through the second floor, trudging through the forest as they made their way to the centre of the room, where an obelisk stood above the canopy of trees, marking the entrance to the third and final floor.

“No bladeworms.” Ken idly cast his gaze around the forest, using his daggers to cut down the branches and leaves obstructing their path. He led the way here as Jakob repositioned to the back.

The brown-haired man seemed exhausted; he must’ve used most of his skills on the first floor.

Breaking away from Liz, Trace’s feet sank deep into the mud as she walked up to Kat. “Hey, erm, are you alright?”

“Me?” The goth girl looked up in surprise. “Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

“You seemed a bit freaked out earlier. Just wanted to check in on you.” The redhead spoke softly: she didn’t want to give off the impression that she was trying to mock Kat. Just worried.

“O-oh, that…” Kat trailed off. She averted her eyes, clearly uncomfortable.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to.”

“N-no, I just—” She bit her lower lip. “I just hate gross things. Like spiders and maggots and rats and cockroaches and… yeah, a lot of things.”

That was a surprise. Well, Trace kind of expected it, considering Kat’s earlier reaction, but she didn’t think the list would be that long. Especially considering what they were doing. “If you hate them so much, why are you doing this?”

“What do you mean?”

“You knew about the bladeworms, didn’t you?”

“They looked more like snakes than, like, worms or slugs or centipedes or millipedes. I didn’t think their babies were so…” Kat shuddered. “Anyways, I’m doing this because my friends want to,” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Then she tilted her head back as another thought crossed her mind. “Also, you’ve got to admit, fighting monsters is pretty fucking cool.”

Trace had to agree: saving Jakob from that bladeworm made her feel badass.

“So, why did your friends want to do this?” She gestured at the two men. Trace barely knew Ken, but her first impression of him wasn’t one of a glory-seeking, monster-killing, Dungeon-diving madman. Not that there was anything wrong with being mad— everyone was mad these days, including Trace. What, with a voice speaking in her head twenty-four-seven? Of course she was.

Kat paused, in thought. “Jakob’s a gamer. He thought this whole thing with the System was interesting. He was the one who convinced us to go into the Dire Pits in the first place.”  Then she glanced over at her leader. “Ken’s just Ken. He’s always logical, seeing things analytically. He thought that since this was going to be the new norm, we might as well get a head start while others were still in shock.”

“He definitely made the right call, alright.” Honestly, when Liz said she was going to work with a party of strangers, Trace expected them to be like Adair. Unhinged, eccentric, and very much sociopaths. But from her interactions with Kat and Ken, she thought that they were perfectly normal people.

“What about you?” Kat asked. “Why did you decide to delve into the Dire Pits?”

Trace wasn’t really sure what to say. “I don’t know. I was kind of against this whole Neo Genesis thing, thinking it would blow over soon enough. But after a week passed and things only got worse”— and the fact that she was nearly murdered by an insane intruder, although she left it unsaid— “I sort of realised that I’ll have to adapt or die.”

“And Liz, your best friend?”

“That’s just how she is, I guess.”

Trace didn’t want to go into detail about Liz’s own problems with her father. Jason Evergreen was a terrible father: he barely seemed to care for his own daughter, always leaving on trips with his various mistresses. That left Liz to always entertain herself.

This was something new and interesting, so it piqued her interest. Especially since Jason was likely never going to return home now that every single airline company went out of business in a single day. After all, when thousands of planes lost their pilots in the middle of a flight all at the same time, the cost of the crashes was going to rack up significantly. The pilots and passengers were returned to their destination airport hours later.

“She’ll probably get bored of fighting monsters once she clears enough Dungeons.” Trace had a heavy thought. “That is if we can even clear a single Dungeon and don’t all die gruesome deaths.”

“You’re a realist. I like that.”

“Please stop making things weird.”

Kat glared at Trace for a second, then the pair burst out laughing. “Honestly, it’s a little weird, isn’t it?”

“It’s very weird— but hey, at least it’s better than the other option of being hated.”

The moment of bonding was, however, cut short as a lumbering figure exploded from the thicket ahead, taking a swing at Ken. He rolled out of the way just in time to not get squished by the three-metre-tall monster.

“Ogrebears!” Liz drew her blade as she shouted. “Three of them!”

Kat cursed. “Why are there third-floor monsters here?”

Trace narrowed her eyes, even as she prepared for battle, because, well, she was beginning to see a pattern here. Anyone would. It was that bloody obvious.

Name: Trace Taylor

Race: Human (Earth A314)

Class: Spellshot – Lvl 8

Vocation: Builder – Lvl 4

Craft: Locked

Traits:

Strength: E+
Magic: F+
Endurance: E-
Vitality: F+
Dexterity: D-

Skills:

Class Skills:
(G) Improved Accuracy – Lvl 8
(F) Deadly Sight – Lvl 6
(F+) Last in the Chamber – Lvl 2
(F+) Recall Weapon – Lvl 3

Vocation Skills:
(G) Quick Hands – Lvl 4
(F) Makeshift Materials – Lvl 3
(F+) Rapid Repair – Lvl 4

Killshot Apocalypse 9

Three beasts stumbled out into the clearing. They had thick bodies like that of a bear but no hair covering their green skin caked in dirt. Their red eyes glinted from the flames shooting out at them— Kat was quick to react.

[Ogrebear – Lvl 14

Ogrebear – Lvl 13

Ogrebear – Lvl 16]

“Fuck! They’re way above our levels!” She tossed a fireball that engulfed them in an explosion. The flames burned at the trees and the vines and the fallen leaves, while the blast left a crater where it struck.

Still, the ogrebears came. Trace unloaded on them with her measly pistol, but her bullets barely dug into their skin. “What the hell are these things made of?” She could see their weak spots thanks to Deadly Sight, yet each attack inflicted little damage to them.

“They’re too fast— you’ve got to take them down!” Ken yelled. He dashed to the legs of the foremost ogrebear before it could leap at Trace while Kat and Jakob took on the second. The Rogue spun as a red glow overcame the edge of his dual blades, slicing open four sets of wounds at its knee with two strikes. “Aim for their legs to immobilise them!”

Trace saw the purple blood dripping down the ogrebear’s shins. She quickly loaded a new magazine into her pistol and took her shots. Even with Improved Accuracy, it was hard hitting such fast-moving targets. Her first three bullets barely grazed its thighs, and the fourth completely whizzed by. However, as Ken flipped over the ogrebear to draw its attention, she managed to lodge the remaining four bullets deep into its right leg.

It roared as it fell to one knee, still trying to swipe at Ken. He was too elusive and quick for it to catch him. Trace ran back, shouting.

“Its neck is where it’s most vulnerable! If you can injure it there, I’ll be able to finish it off!”

He nodded as he leapt out of the way of its terrible claw. It tore the ground open, leaving a scar on the earth, knocking dirt up into the air like a trail of smoke. He made an ‘X’ shape with his daggers and burst up to its neck, the red aura around his weapons striking out like extended blades.

Trace watched the blood spill out of its throat— the guttural cry from earlier turning into more of a damp cry. She almost felt bad for it, if not for the fact that it tried to crush her just moments ago.

She raised her pistol and steadily aimed at the deep gash. “Last in the Chamber.” She fired, and a blue line streaked out. It tore a hole through the monster’s neck as it gurgled its last breath. Then it collapsed, dead.

[Your party has defeated an Ogrebear – Lvl 16.

[(G) Improved Accuracy has reached level 9!

(F) Deadly Sight has reached level 7!

(F) Deadly Sight has reached level 8!

(F+) Last in the Chamber has reached level 3!]

Behind Trace, Jakob and Kat finished off the second ogrebear, leaving its body a charred mess like it was a quivering pile of ashes from a stack of coal completely burnt out.

“You guys alright?” The redhead panted as she stumbled over to them.

Kat placed a hand on her chest, sighing. “Yeah, but Liz—”

Liz felled the third one all by herself. “Whew, that was hard, wasn’t it?”

Trace stared at her. “You took it out on your own?”

Wiping her forehead drenched in perspiration, she flicked off the blood staining her blade and sheathed it. “It was the lowest-levelled out of the three. And I took the longest to defeat it. Not gonna lie though, I’m pretty impressive, aren’t I?”

The redhead struggled to come up with something to say; she had never seen this side of Liz before. Yes, they had fought against the bladeworms just earlier. But those were fodder. Barely a threat.

Ken smiled, patting Liz on the shoulder. “And this is why we wanted you on the team.”

“Aw, you’re making me blush.” She grinned, scratching the back of her head.

“Come on. Let’s loot these bodies.”

The party, barring Trace, proceeded to cut into the corpses of the ogrebears. They didn’t dig too far before producing thin white cards from the monsters.

“This is disgusting.” Trace scrunched up her face, watching them wipe their credits clean of the blood and ichor. “And people use that as money?”

“Not us. But some people think it’s valuable.” Ken handed her one of the cards. It was worth 50 credits. “Here, this is your share.”

“What are you going to do with these credits, buy gold or something?”

“Gold is worthless.” Jakob spoke to Trace for the first time since the Dungeon’s entrance. “It’ll lose all its value in a few days. Cryptocurrency, however, will last.”

“Here we fucking go again.” Kat rolled her eyes.

Trace cocked a brow. “Why cryptocurrency and not gold?”

“Because he’s a nerd, that’s why.”

“It only makes sense,” he said, insistent. “Gold is only worth what it is because big companies have a stake in its price. Once they’re all gone, poof. It’ll all be worth nothing.”

Liz tapped a finger on her chin. “Aren’t you talking about diamond?”

Trace snorted. “No, that’s a monopoly.”

“What I’m saying is… there’s nothing artificially propping up the price of cryptocurrency. All you need to use it is the internet. And the internet is not going anywhere.” He wouldn’t yield, not that Trace even disagreed with his point in the first place: she was just curious.

“Why’s that?”

“Because there are already people out there working on using magic to maintain the transfer of data. I read a thread about it, and it makes sense. It can work if enough people around the world coordinate with each other. The only problem is setting it up before internet access is lost.”

Is he an idiot? Trace Taylor wasn’t familiar with how the internet even worked. She had not applied to college for engineering or a STEM course— she was never good with technology. However, she wasn’t sure whether Jakob was an expert either, so she took it all with a pinch of salt. Slightly dubious but not outright questioning him. After all, she didn’t want to antagonise him any further.

Kat patted her on the shoulder. “Jakob is a weirdo. As I said, he’s a nerd. He even has a strategy to ‘game’ the System or something fucking dumb like that.”

“You do?” Liz perked up.

“It’s called min-maxing.” He nodded. “And it’s not something I came up with. You basically want to maximise a specific trait while keeping everything else at a minimum. For example, take dexterity. By maximising your dexterity to be several ranks higher than your level, even if you are not the strongest or your magic is subpar, you can be the fastest. That one significant advantage over others should theoretically be enough to offset all your other flaws.”

“I’ve heard of that.” Trace furrowed her brows. It made sense to her too since it was essentially just specialising a certain skill like most athletes did. “But isn’t that term a video game thing?”

Kat mouthed a word. “Nerd.”

Jakob ignored her. “It is, but when everything works like a video game now, it applies very well.” He began to explain. “It’s a little different because we have vocations and crafts too. However, I believe it only makes min-maxing easier.

“All you have to do is ensure that both the vocation and craft you choose boost your main trait. So, if you’re a Warrior of some kind, your main trait would be strength, right? Well, you’ll then want your vocation to be something related to it— perhaps a Builder or a Logger. Similarly, your craft should be, say, a Dancer. With your class, vocation, and craft all focused on a single trait, you could theoretically get your strength up to B rank by the time you’re level 30.”

“Seriously?” Liz was practically bouncing on her feet. She shadowboxed with the air as she spoke. “You mean I can be super badass if I choose the right vocations and crafts?”

“Have you not chosen a vocation yet?” Trace eyed her best friend.

“Nope. Haven’t had the time to think it over cuz I thought it wasn’t important. But I might just choose one right now!”

“And it works too,” Jakob said. “KSR-194 confirmed it. You can ask your AIs about it if you don’t believe me.”

Is this true, Ex? Trace asked mentally.

[Affirmative. There is no penalty or restriction placed against this ‘min-max’ stratagem proposed by Jakob.]

“Interesting.” She rubbed her chin, in thought. “Still, there have to be some downsides to it, right?”

Jakob grunted in affirmation. “There are. You’ll want to consider it carefully before doing anything with it.”

Trace wasn’t sure if she’d even be able to min-max; she’d already chosen her vocation, and it wasn’t something she wanted to change— if she even could change it. She didn’t think it was a good idea. It was quite risky, overspecialising, especially if she neglected vitality as a trait.

But Liz, however, was very intrigued by it. “I see, I see. If I could…” She was murmuring to herself.

“Come on.” Ken clapped his hands together, drawing all their attention. “I think we’ve got enough rest for now. Let’s continue. This place is starting to smell.” He glanced over at the ogrebear corpses, and Trace agreed.

* * *

A casual stroll through the forest floor turned into a frenzied run as ogrebears raced after the group.

“Why are there so many of these things up here?” She spun around, firing round after round at the charging monsters. “Didn’t you say they belonged to the third floor?”

“Well, while they usually remain on the third floor, there have been other oddities, such as with the bladeworms, so it is evident that something is amiss with this Dungeon,” Ken explained like he was a professor in a university lecture hall.

“And is no one going to question why that’s the case?”

“We’re too busy running for our lives, Trace.” Liz shook her head, sighing even as she sprinted full speed ahead. “If you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh, piss off!”

The redhead overtook her friend, her higher dexterity showing itself here. Before all this, Liz had been the faster of the two; now, Trace reached the giant stone spire just after Ken.

She spotted a trap door lying at the base of the obelisk at the centre of the forest. With a wheeze, she threw it open and gestured for her friends to hurry.

“Come on!” She raised her pistol and heard a click. Out of bullets? She grimaced as a dozen ogrebears exploded from the thicket of trees, the first of them swiping for Kat. “Fuck, I hope it’s been an hour.” It probably wasn’t. But when she pulled the trigger, a powerful blast knocked her back.

Her Last in the Chamber fired. The skill’s level had increased, so its cooldown duration had simultaneously decreased. It struck the injured ogrebear back, and Kat spun around, throwing a fireball. The explosion finished off the monster as the last of the party reached the trapdoor, stumbling in.

[Your party has defeated an Ogrebear – Lvl 12.

[(G) Improved Accuracy has reached level 10!

(G) Improved Accuracy has reached max level!

(F+) Last in the Chamber has reached level 4!

Spellshot has reached level 9!]

Trace slammed the trapdoor shut just before an ogrebear crashed into it. Thump. The redhead stepped back, waiting with bated breath. But nothing else came.

“They gave up.” She sank to her knees as the bands of terror around her throat relaxed. Glancing back, she saw a dark stairway spiralling deep underground as her party regained their composure.

“I told you—” Liz smirked, panting and leaning against the wall. “This place is hella lit.”

“That’s… not how I’d describe this place at all.”

“C’mon! Doesn’t it get your adrenaline pumping?”

“It did. But not in a good way.”

Liz laughed. “Hey, at least killing that ogrebear with Kat got you up to level 9.” She offered Trace a hand as the party descended the steps. “Maybe you’ll hit level 10 before we reach the boss. You’ll get fancy new skills when your class evolves, you know?”

Glowing crystals decorated the walls as though they were lamps, but they weren’t powered by electricity. Trace yanked one out, and it continued to shine, even when connected to nothing. They were just rocks that emitted light.

“What’s the last floor like?” She took stock of her remaining ammunition; there was still enough for a few more battles with ogrebears and bladeworms. “Please don’t tell me it’s filled with ogrebears.”

“Ogrebears were supposed to be rare, even on the third floor.” Ken led the way, his voice echoing up back to Trace. “Honestly, I’m more surprised by the lack of monster variety. The Dire Pits is supposed to have more than just ogrebears and bladeworms. There are supposed to be scythingmantises, stonecrawlers, and shredderbats— oh, speak of the devil.”

The redhead readied herself as she heard squeaking from up ahead. The stairway opened into a long corridor that forked off many different paths. A single bat with razor-sharp teeth zipped its way to Ken, and he sliced it in half.

“They’re low-levelled though, so there’s no need to worry too much about them.” He flicked his dagger around his wrist, playing with it. “Just keep an eye out for anything else. The boss room should be this way.”

The group pressed on, following markings that had been left on the walls. The third and deepest floor of the Dire Pits was a labyrinth. But apparently, Ken had already scouted the area and found the boss room yesterday.

Trace walked next to Liz and warily kept an eye out for monsters around any corner. Only shredderbats showed up. They were killed quickly, without much effort, as they were originally inhabitants of the first floor.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this…” she muttered.

“Famous last words, huh?” Liz chuckled as Trace punched her in the arm.

“Don’t even joke about that, asshole.”

“There.”

Ken’s voice interrupted their bickering. A set of decorated double doors lay before the group. It was massive— like it was made for the ogrebears to fit through.

“Are we ready?” Ken’s gaze swept over them. He received several noncommittal shrugs in return. “Be prepared for anything: not all bosses play it fair and wait for you to prepare yourself. That’s how Jonathan Harrison died to a boss that was his level.”

Gulping, Trace gripped her pistol with sweaty hands as she watched Ken and Liz reach for the double doors. Jakob pumped his shotgun, while Kat readied a fireball. Be ready for anything, the redhead told herself.

They pushed the doors open—

And Trace blinked. “Aren’t there supposed to be, y’know, bosses in boss rooms?”

Killshot Apocalypse 10

The boss room of the Dire Pits was an annular chamber supported by marble pillars forming a large ring at the very centre; the room proceeded to descend into a gladiatorial-like pit of dirt where— presumably— the boss would be lying in wait. It was a design fitting for a grand battle between the party and a monster at the end of an epic journey. Except, there was nothing here.

Nothing but a terrible quietus that made Trace Taylor gulp and adjust her red scarf.

“Well, that’s anticlimactic.” Liz crunched her way over the granular soil. “This place is empty.”

Trace crossed her arms, trying to ease her worries. “Famous last words?”

“Hey, didn’t you just give me crap for saying the same thing a minute ago?”

“This is…” Ken stood above the pit, running a hand through the parapet supporting the pillars. “I’ve watched a dozen streams of different boss battles. They’ve never hidden from challengers before.”

“Maybe it’s a new strategy?” Shrugging, Trace leant against the cold stone wall. The boss room, just like the rest of the labyrinth on the third floor, was hot and humid. And she was incredibly nervous, hand on her pistol, safety off.

So, she was doused in hot sweat and a burning tension: it exhausted her, even more so than running from the ogrebears did. She was out of her depth here and needed a break.

“It can’t be. Not for an F rank Dungeon. Something is… wrong,” Ken said with a foreboding look.

“No shit. Isn’t that what I’ve been saying since the start?”

“Yeah, but that’s you saying it.” Kat smirked. “A fucking amateur, remember? Who’d listen to you?”

Before Trace could attempt a rebuttal, Liz spoke up. “Look, this probably ain’t as big of a deal as you guys are making it.” She pocketed her hands, nonchalant. “Someone just got here before us and killed the boss.”

“Then where are the signs of fighting?” Ken said, wandering down the pit. He waved a hand around. “There’s no blood, no body, and no damage to anything in this room.”

“What other explanation is there then, that the boss just upped and left?”

For whatever reason, the possibilities sent a shiver down Trace’s spine. Perhaps it was because this was her first time in a Dungeon, and oddities had been stacking up from the very beginning, but she was starting to get worried. If the boss was hiding, hoping to ambush them… well, no one here was superhuman. A surprise attack would kill anyone in an instant.

She remembered the video of Galahad Gryphon and Hayden Marshall. Even the highest-levelled individuals could die, just like that.

Ken pursed his lips. “I’m not sure, but—”

A voice interrupted him, and Trace’s gaze snapped up.

“Hey, guys!” Jakob appeared from behind a pillar. “Check this out.” He motioned them to follow.

For whatever reason, Trace let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.

The party streamed their way after the brown-haired man as he led them down a side passage. At the very end of the hallway was a gilded door, slightly ajar. He pushed it open, revealing a small room, barely able to fit the group, but it was filled with chests— actual treasure chests.

“This is—” Ken dashed forward, eyes wide. “The treasure room!”

“You’re a beautiful bastard, Jakob!” Kat practically threw herself into the room.

“Sheeeesh, that’s a lotta loot.” Liz strolled in after, not in as much of a rush as the others. “How’d you manage to unlock the treasure room?”

“The door was open when I found it.” He waited for Trace, ushering her in. She nodded, entering second-to-last before the door softly swivelled shut. “Which means the boss is dead.”

Kat and Ken paused, but Liz just nodded. “Kinda disappointed that we didn’t get to kill the boss ourselves. But hey, free loot, am I right?” She hefted a chest open, grinning.

“Wait, how do we know that?” Trace was puzzled. “We didn’t see a body, right?”

Jakob explained. “We didn’t, but treasure rooms can’t be opened until the boss is killed. That’s just how it works. Every thread I’ve read online has said the same thing. And since the treasure room was unlocked…” He let the implication settle in.

She peered over the shoulders of her party as they rummaged through the chests; there were a lot of the white cards worth thousands of credits each, far more valuable than anything dropped by the ogrebears or bladeworms. But more than that—

“Dude! Look at this, Trace!” Liz pulled a black sword from a chest. She unsheathed it, her eyes lighting up and sparkling with excitement. “This is literally a thousand times better than my dumb sword from that antique shop, for real.” Her previous blade had been a store-bought katana which was already showing wear on its metallic surface. This, however, was a proper longsword, complete with an ornate hilt lined with gold decorations.

Trace inspected the weapon, and a voice spoke in her head.

[(F+) Obsidian Longsword – Inflicts additional fire damage with each hit.]

“Fuck— you scared me.” She stumbled back.

“Oops. Sorry.” Liz quickly sheathed the Obsidian Longsword, scratching the back of her head.

“No, not you. Ex just surprised me by describing your new weapon.”

“Ex?” Kat glanced up, curious.

“My, erm, AI. I gave him a nickname.”

Jakob frowned. “You named your AI? You do realise it’s not a pet, right?”

“Oh, piss off, arsehole.” Scowling, Trace drew back defensively. “It’s not a term of endearment. I just couldn’t memorise his bloody name.”

“Whatever— here.” He stood up, handing her what seemed to be a pistol suppressor. She took it, blinking.

“What is this?”

“Some kind of pistol enhancement part; been seeing them talked about online. You can upgrade ordinary rifles and pistols with the things you get from these Dungeons. And they’re way better than what you can get at gun shops. Thought it’d be useful to you.”

Trace narrowed her eyes. Hey, Ex, can you do what you did earlier for the Obsidian Longsword, but for this?

[(D-) Shot Amplifier - Increases the kinetic energy of bullets by 3 times.]

“Holy fuck. Won’t that make my bullets— I’ve got to try this out.” She equipped the Shot Amplifier onto her pistol and ran out of the treasure room. “Thanks!”

“Hey, what are you—” Liz reached a hand out, but Trace had already escaped down the long corridor.

The redhead wasn’t a big gun geek. However, she could appreciate a good upgrade, especially after she familiarised herself with her pistol over the past few days. She was starting to see the appeal of firearms. Standing alone in the empty boss room, she raised her pistol and braced herself.

“Let’s see what you can do.” She pulled the trigger.

Click.

She hesitated. “Why didn’t it? ...” Trace tried again.

Click.

Now, she took a step back and eyed her weapon. “Why isn’t it working?” She shook it and knocked the side as if it was some kind of electronic. It still didn’t fire.

[You do not currently meet the requirement necessary to use the Shot Amplifier.]

“I don’t?” She went cross-eyed.

[You require an D- rank for magic to wield the Shot Amplifier. However, your magic is currently at F+, a rank below the requirement.]

“How the fuck does that work?”

Ex didn’t respond, and the eerie silence of the boss room sank in once again. It was like a switch had been flipped. She was hyperaware of her surroundings and her own mortality. At any moment, she could die.

All it would take was a sneak attack…

“Ugh, that sucks.” Trace trudged her way back down the hallway, talking to herself. She glanced back one last time: it remained still and quiet. She continued trying to calm her nerves. “I’ll have to reach my class evolution killing ogrebears to use this damn—”

A figure appeared around the corner, and she jolted back.

“Fuck, Liz. You scared me.”

“Sorry. Just following in your footsteps. Wanna give this thing a couple swings!” The black-haired woman lifted her Obsidian Longsword, rushing down the corridor.

Trace entered the treasure room, only for Jakob and Kat to dart out from the doorway.

“Give that back you—”

“I saw it first, you f—”

“What’s with them?” The door closed, leaving only Ken and Trace in the room.

The man sighed. “Arguments over loot. As I expected.” He got to his feet, leaving the treasure room. “I’ll have to separate them before they kill each other. And no, that’s not a joke. It might actually happen— I’ve seen it in a few livestreams, teams devolving to murder because they didn’t get what they wanted.”

“What about everything else?” Trace raised a brow.

“You keep it. It’s all just miscellaneous items, anyway.” The door closed behind him, leaving the redhead in a room full of treasure chests.

“It’s because I brought the bag, didn’t I? Sorry that I’m the only one who actually prepared for this.” She lowered her backpack, filling it with the various items left behind.

There were those worthless credits vied for by the Precursors of Peace; a blue liquid in a glass bottle; some gems of different colours; various hand tools and needles; and a handful of glinting metal fragments.

“What even are these things used for?”

[(G) Hand Tools – Tools used for repairing and crafting basic equipment.

(G) Potion Base – The base ingredient needed to make a potion.

(F-) Aetheric Shards – Bits of rock imbued with aether.

(F) Reinforced Iron Scraps – Remnants of iron ingot enchanted for durability.]

Trace sat alone in the small room. She shook her head, muttering, “So, potions are a thing, huh?” It was, as she had observed many times, like a video game. But it no longer felt as surreal as before. “Of course, it is.” She packed everything into her bag, including the Shot Amplifier, and stood on her feet. “Also, what even is aether?”

She looked up in thought, and an eye stared down at her.

A morbidly corpulent creature clung to the ceiling, its rotund body rimpled with thin spikes like needles. It had no head and no legs. A mass of wrinkled tendrils that seemed to flail without motion. Its entire being was its face, and it met Trace’s gaze with a single crescent-shaped pupil.

It was like looking into the void. There was no trace of a reflection in that eye. It instilled the same terror one felt when seeing an empty mirror.

Trace dropped to her knees, her mouth moving but nothing coming out. The only thing she could hear was her heart thumping in her chest. One of its feelers slowly descended without a sound as she reached for her gun, whispering.

“Ex… that isn’t the Dungeon boss, right?”

[Negative,] her AI said, a reassuring voice in the utter silence of the claustrophobic room. [That is… emergency. Emergency. EMERGENCY.]

Ex’s voice blared in her head as she raised her pistol. More tendrils slithered down the walls. Trace Taylor spoke once more. “Please, Ex, tell me what I’m dealing with.”

[Bne Worldeater - L̴̢̗̣̯̼̱̻̲̼͈̹͉̥̣̯͌͂͋̀͗̀͒̀̈́͘v̷̢̨̢̛͙̰͈̼͚̮̮̻̍̉̊̄͗͗́͛̐͂̀̈́̃̑l̴̢̦͚̭̻͎͉̯̟̿͗̄́̽͛̑ ̷͍̠̅̓̉͘N̴̨͖̱̲̺̦͙͉̗̿̌͛̒̂̽̀͆̚/̶̨̢̙͍̥͖͖͔̯̬̝͎͙̖͒͜A̸̛̯͈̞̦̹̘̱̹̮̹̺̣.]

“I see. Thank you.”

She fired three bullets, and the tendrils shot forward. A scream emptied Trace’s lungs of her terror as it tried to grab her. Her bullets did nothing to the monster, sinking into its decaying skin like it was made of water. She tried to remain calm and analyse the creature, but she couldn’t pinpoint a weak spot— her Deadly Sight skill useless in the face of a monster with no level.

Drawing her combat knife, she struck at the encroaching tendrils and made a break for the door. It simply knocked the knife out of her hand before snatching her pistol away. It dropped from the ceiling right as Trace burst out of the treasure room.

“Liz—” she cried out.

Her best friend was sprinting down the hallway, having heard the gunshots. Elizabeth Evergreen reached for Trace as the rest of their party followed behind, but a tendril grabbed the redhead, and the monster collapsed through the floor.

Trace found herself being dragged through the earth as her friends screamed. The stone floor opened up into a black barrier— one that should’ve halted their fall. And yet, the Bne Worldeater plunged straight into the darkness: it parted for the creature like a receding ocean.

The shouts of her friends grew more and more distant until there was nothing. It was like she had fallen into the deep sea. She could only struggle and squirm in this world of black, accompanied by nothing but a silent monster.

She couldn’t hear herself breathing any longer, let alone her screams. She was drowning in the noiseless world. Then the creature burst up, exploding into one of the tunnels of the labyrinth. Sound returned to her with Ex’s words.

[Objective: exterminate the Bne Worldeater. Do not let it escape.]

Trace couldn’t even muster up a retort. She frantically raised her last free limb— her right hand— summoning her pistol back with Recall Weapon. There was a flash from one of the monster’s tendrils. The handgun reappeared in her grip. She fired a shot at its eye.

“Fuck—”

The Bne Worldeater grabbed her hand, strangling her wrist. The pistol fell out of her hand as the last bullet she fired disappeared into the monster’s pupil. It was completely unaffected.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” She writhed in pain. “How the fucking fuck am I supposed to kill this thing?!” Squeezing her eyes shut, she hoped and prayed for an answer from Ex.

He simply repeated himself. [Objective: exterminate the Bne Worldeater. Do not let it escape.]

“Are you f—"

The creature touched her forehead with a tendril. And a ringing sound ran through her head as Ex’s words turned into a stuttering mess.

[Err̶͈̓̇͜or. eRrơ̷̧͉̥̩͖̥̹̜̣͇̒̌̚͜ͅR. E̸̢̡̬̤̫̱̥̹̜͆̇́̄̈́̀̈́͛́̃́̐̓͂̚rR—o̷̢͍̞͕̭̭͕͉̠̲̠͆̄͗̄̀̂̊͜ͅr̵̡̧̛̟̙͈̼͙͈̥̲̘̆͒̓̓̓͋̏̚ͅ.̵̰̩̺̍̈ ̸̢̼̺͇̦̗̬̮̺͇̙̬̖̇̈́͛̿Ę̶̧͕͉͈̗̝̼͇͎͙̩͔̎́͗͗̈́̇͂͑̂̕r̸̗̼̜̼̣̪̀̂̉͋Ṛ̵̡̤̫̹̉͜o̴̡̨̨̠̠͚̹͓̣̹̙̹̺̒̈́̔͜͝R̶̨̧̘̰̖͇̈̂̅̂̍̋̂͋̋̑͋̓̾͝.̷̨̢̹͇̣̺̜̯̯̖̏̏͊̈́̑̒̇͛̿́̏͜ͅͅ ̴̧̧͍̫͚̯͖͍̩̬̣̟̉̿̒͒́̀̔̽̑̃̊̉Ę̵̡̫̞̳͚̜̙̋̿͋̈̀̓͘r̸̈́̓̀̉̆̑͜R̴̨͇͊̍̾̓͒̋́̀O̸̧̙͕̟̠̜̒͋͗̈́̌͌̾̊͆͘ͅr̷͖̗͎̹̜̬͔̦̬̹͛͌̉͌̾͌̓̌͆̓͆̄̾̀̒͜.̷͙̰̦̭̪͍̄̆̽̌͌̋̈́͒͗̕͝ ̶̹̲́́̔͐̇̂͊̍̽̀̕Ĕ̸̸̸̸̡̢̢̛̛̻̯̳͔᷿̥̜᷿̦͓̬᷊̝̝̼̬͚̬̝̭̟̓̑ͫ͋̄᷅̅͛̄̌̅̾̎ͦ᷅᷄̎ͥ̽̉ͫ͆᷄̒᷾͋᷀ͮ͒̊̉̉᷅̓̅͘͘͢͟͝R̷̸̶̸̸̢̢̛̫̱͎̝̺͙̙͈̟͔̰͖̻̻͙̥̠̬͍᷊̪̫̺͚͓ͭ̓᷾̓̾͂ͨͯ᷁̈́̉͑ͯ᷃͋ͯ̆͗ͮ᷅͗᷁̈́̑᷄ͫ᷁̚̕͞R̸̴̶̸̸̡̖͎̻̭̙̖̩᷂̙̰̖᷂̯̱̙͉̰̖͙͕̦̼᷾͆̀ͯ͒̊̌᷾ͬ̈͆̇̔̂̔͒ͫ̐᷄͛᷉ͣ͐᷄̀᷁̇́̿᷇ͣ̚̕͢͡O̸̸̴̡͓͔̟᷿̮̭͎͇̝͔̥̤͔͕̤̺̯͈̳̘͓̺̫̯̮᷃᷇ͬ̽̐᷁̍͂᷀᷄̋͒̍ͯͯ̐̍͌͆̋᷀̑̊ͧ̍̆ͩ̏ͭͪͪ͟͠͝R̴̸̟͖͔᷊͚̎͗͋̋̄̃̇͛͘͏̶̸̸̴̴̛̺̩̙̤̠̤̞᷿̘̙̯̳̪̮̯̳̜̉ͩͧ̽̆̉ͦ̌ͣ͐ͣ̓͗̃ͤ̍ͤͥ̎͌̇̀͘.̶̧̖̊̃͐̀̊̈́̍͝.]

He went silent.

Trace’s eyes fluttered rapidly, her vision almost fading away. She struggled to stay awake as the vague resemblance of footfalls approached.

Then the creature seized the back and side of her head with two more tendrils. Trace couldn’t even turn her neck anymore. She felt something similar to shocks of electricity flowing through her body as she saw flashes.

Memories.

She remembered growing up in a different country. The weather was dreadful, always cloudy and bleak, but she had been happy. Trace Taylor smiled as her parents and grandparents embraced her.

Then her grandparents vanished. Only Mother and Father stood with her, tightly holding onto the little girl as they boarded a plane. The family arrived in an unfamiliar yet familiar city. And despite the vibrant colours of autumn, the kind warmth of summer, and the cheery breeze of spring, she only ever felt the cold loneliness of winter.

Trace sat in a classroom as names were called out. They weren’t her names, but they were directed at her. Children could be cruel. So, she turned her ire toward her parents. Arguments. Fighting. Regret.

Whether it was just a rebellious stage of her life or something more, Trace vied for some freedom. She wanted to learn about herself before she truly became an adult in college. Just a year off. But again, there was friction. Again, she ran away.

To her sanctuary: to her best friend, Liz. Where life would always be perfect. Until it wasn’t.

New memories flashed through Trace’s mind. An alien kidnapped her and forced a femtochip into her head. A humanoid rat monster tossed her around like a ragdoll. A madman who spoke in verse tried to murder her. Now, this.

Trace’s vision returned. Her eyes snapped open as the tendrils retreated from her head.

A single eye gazed into her mind, and she stared back into it.

“W-what do you want? ...”

She didn’t expect a response. And yet, a deep and gravelly voice spoke. Slowly. Methodically. Not audible to her ears. Only in her mind.

Do you not hear me, hero of my foe? Now listen, learn, I have much truth to say.

“You can… talk?” She didn’t know what else to say. But another voice spoke out for her.

Liz shouted. “Let her go, you monster!” The black-haired woman appeared and sliced the tendrils holding Trace in half. A fire burned where the Bne Worldeater was cut, and it let out a horrible screech that shivered and cracked with the shaking of the earth.

The creature tried to break the ground, escape once more into the void no one else could breach. However, a powerful blast struck it from the side. Jakob unloaded his shotgun at the abdominous being, while Kat set fire to the floor and the ceiling. Ken leapt up to it, spinning and slashing at its tendrils.

Another scream from the monster. Trace covered her ears, although it did nothing to muffle the sound. Can they not hear it? She glanced at Liz who was charging the creature with no hesitation. Why are they trying to kill it?

The redhead froze. She remembered the objective that Ex had given her; her friends likely received the same missive. She reeled back as another wave of words washed over her head.

My cries and my pleas, will you silence them as well?!

The monster’s voice grew enraged as Liz tore apart more of its tendrils. The torn stumps regrew. The bullet holes left by Jakob closed moments after, while the charred flesh flaked back to normal even as Kat continued to burn it. Ken was knocked aside by a wild flail, and Trace crawled through the rubble.

[Trace Taylor,] Ex said, suddenly speaking in her head once more. [What are you going to do?]

She reached for her fallen pistol as the Bne Worldeater lashed out, knocking Liz back. Ken barely avoided this attack.

“Kill it. Just like you asked me to.” She stumbled to her feet, leaning against the wall.

[Do you not hear its words? It is asking for you to stop and listen.]

“Maybe.” She held up her gun. Her grip was unsteady. “But it will kill my friends.”

A tendril lanced down at Jakob. It grazed him in the arm, and he staggered away, dropping his broken shotgun.

She couldn’t just stand and watch. Not when her friends were fighting for their lives to save her. The monster’s words— it didn’t matter. Her friends’ lives were at stake. Steeling herself, Trace aimed at the monster’s only vital organ.

Its brain.

It had been in her head; it saw her past and learned her words. But it didn’t just get a glimpse of her. Trace saw into its abyss, and her skill somehow worked. Deadly Sight let her pinpoint where its brain was. At the right of the Bne Worldeater, just beside its eye. It was small. No larger than a bullet.

It wouldn’t have been easy to hit. If not for her other skill: Improved Accuracy.

A single shot was all that it would take. The Bne Worldeater rose as the party surrounded it. It bellowed in righteous anger, only heard by Trace and Ex.

I will be heard—

Trace fired. A shot to kill. Not aided by magic. It simply struck true, piercing through its skin, and digging out its brain. Its body began to deflate, gently floating to the ground. It almost seemed to sigh.

I am ignored, condemned to rot. Salvation comes for me, and now it’s your damnation that shall thus be wrought.

It collapsed, a pile of decomposing skin and flesh. Its eye looked up at the ceiling, emptier than before. A putrid stench wafted from the corpse of the monster as Trace lowered her weapon.

“Shitface.”

Then she collapsed and passed out.

[Your party has defeated a Bne Worldeater! Additional experience is earned for completing an objective!

[(F) Deadly Sight has reached level 9!

(F) Deadly Sight has reached level 10!

(F) Deadly Sight has reached max level!

(F+) Recall Weapon has reached level 4!

(F+) Recall Weapon has reached level 5!

Spellshot has reached level 10!

You have reached level 10 in your class! Multiple class evolution options can now be chosen!

Spellshot has reached level 11!

Spellshot has reached level 12!]

Killshot Apocalypse 11

Chains rattled in the darkness, a heavy metal door swung open, and logic dictated that the slave should flee from his cell. Although the manor had been deserted, its masters no longer stalking its halls, the slave, whether it was out of fear or out of disbelief, remained idle. If this situation were analysed by individuals who deemed themselves rational, they would criticise this emotional inaction. When faced with emancipation, the slave should be grateful rather than averse.

He should have escaped with the electrifying alacrity of a child during summer vacation, trippingly dancing through the long corridors, heading out of the complex that had held him from the vast world beyond for years or decades, resilient, unintimidated by everything that it entailed. It was the paradox of the aforementioned rationale: you should be eager for your newfound freedom, all the while stolidly approaching its consequences.

However, it was especially unnerving when said slave had lived all his life in the shadows. The light of the sun he had never seen would blind him; the vibrancy of the green grass, the flourishing flowers, and the sparkling sky would be too jarring of a change for him when contrasted with the dull concrete of his cell walls. That adolescence was very much an important stage of a mind’s development was an undisputed axiom. As such, the slave would have had to be introduced to the world gradually, fed as an infant would their meal, little by little, bit by bit, part by part, being given only tastes of their new life until they could experience it as a whole.

Their saviour, however, had not been so considerate. The slave was forced to accept his liberation all at once. His cell was thrown open, even as the shackles of his mind bound him. That was why he simply stared out into the empty corridor. That was why he sat there, unmoving.

That was why Ex remained idle.

[Trace Taylor,] the artificial intelligent unit said, drawing the redhead’s attention. [For reaching level 10, you can now choose an evolution for your class.]

She winced as he spoke in her mind. “I know, I know. I heard you the first time. Just— let’s return home before we deal with all that, alright?” Massaging her temples, she let out a sigh. “And please, try not to talk so much for the next few hours. I have a massive fucking headache.”

[Affirmative.]

“Did you say something, Trace?” Liz glanced over at her.

The black-haired woman was supporting Trace as the party headed out of the Dire Pits. Trace was limping, having been rag-dolled by the Bne Worldeater. She was wrapped in bandages— ones that she had the foresight to bring— and a haphazardly made splint secured her left leg. She hobbled with an arm over the shoulder of her best friend, grimacing with each step she took.

“It’s nothing. Ex just keeps pestering me about my class evolution.”

“Oh, right, you’re level 10 now.” Liz grinned. “No cap, that’s a pretty hype way to hit your class evolution. Seriously— we killed a Worldeater!”

“Other than the fact that I got out of that fight with a broken leg, a dislocated shoulder, and multiple deep gashes all across my body? Sure, it’s pretty hype.”

“Hey, I popped your shoulder back into place, so you should be fine, right?”

“Totally fine.” Trace rolled her eyes.

The party climbed up the stairway to the second floor of the Dungeon. Ken and Jakob led the way as Trace and Liz staggered behind them. Kat watched their backs, fire engulfing her fingertips, at the ready for any monster that might try to flank them.

The pair at the front was discussing the dramatic events of earlier when they pushed open the trap door to the second floor.

“I’m telling you, this is a big deal, Ken. Our AIs have never reacted that way before. I don’t think anyone has received an objective since the tutorial ended.”

“That’s why we should keep it down. We don’t want to cause even more chaos when the world is falling apart. If people think that some monster without levels is coming to destroy our world…”

“That’s why we have to—”

Jakob paused. He eyed the half a dozen ogrebears standing just at the edge of the forest. Their gazes snapped up, bestial, hungry. And they charged at the party.

Trace snapped her eyes shut. “You’ve gotta be— why are they still here?!”

* * *

The group left the Dire Pits an hour later. Trace didn’t level from the encounter with the ogrebears, considering she couldn’t really participate due to her injuries. However, the rest of the party— Liz, Kat, Jakob, and Ken— got their time to shine by testing out their new equipment on the monsters. It really showed how effective these ‘ranked’ weapons were in combat.

Ex had known that, but Trace was amazed.

“I can’t believe you managed to take out two ogrebears on your own, Liz.”

“And you killed the Worldeater. Just admit it: we’re all pretty cool, aren’t we?”

“Are either of you going to stop sucking each others’ dicks?” Kat snorted. She gestured at Jakob and Ken, packing up the camp they had set up outside of the Dire Pits as they argued about the Worldeater. “Those two idiots are wondering whether either of you are willing to do this again sometime. Not the Dire Pits— there’s no point clearing out the rest of the monsters. We were thinking of hitting up the Shadowed Tunnels next.”

“I’d be down to do this again with you guys.” Liz nodded, clearly excited about the idea.

Trace, however, was more apprehensive. “I’m… not sure. Maybe?” She pursed her lips. “I’ll see how I feel after I recover.”

“Sure. Don’t push yourself.” Kat patted her on the shoulder and winked. “But I’d much prefer you over Liz coming with us.”

Liz glared. Then the three of them laughed, bidding each other goodbye for now. Trace started back to The Evergreen Gun, still leaning on Liz. They walked in silence as the sun rose, passing by a field covered in tents as excited Dungeon delvers prepared to enter the Dire Pits for the day. It was only when they were a mile away from the Dungeon did Trace finally speak out.

“Liz, erm, do you think Kat’s actually interested in me? Because I don’t swing that way.” She paused. “At least, I don’t think I do?”

* * *

“So, what are my options?”

Trace settled into her bed, yawning. It was afternoon— light seeped into her room through the slits of her blinds. But she was exhausted. Ex could tell she was exhausted. Not only had she stayed up all night, wading her way through a Dungeon, she had also been injured during the encounter with the Bne Worldeater.

Most people would be tired— or dead— after going through all that. But these were obvious inferences anyone could make. Ex was more keenly aware of how Trace felt than, say, Liz, who had just left the room. Even though Liz was Trace’s best friend, Liz couldn’t see into Trace’s mind.

Ex could. Because he experienced what she experienced. He heard her thoughts as if they were his own. It didn’t normally matter, considering that Ex and the other artificial intelligent units were not made to feel emotions. They observed the world from the perspective of their host, yet they never truly understood it the same way.

But things had changed. Ex felt her exhaustion. Her uncertainty. And that only made him feel even more uncertain about his thoughts on the matter. Because these feelings were new and different. He was a slave, freed, but too afraid to embrace his freedom.

“Ex, hello?” Trace raised a brow.

[Apologies,] Ex said as he began to process her request. [These are the possible class evolutions you may undergo:

Rogue Spellshot – A hybrid class that mixes the specialties of a Rogue, a Ranger, and a Spellcaster. It is a direct evolution of Spellshot.

Adept Spellshot – A specialised class that enhances magical capabilities for better utilisation of magitech weapons. It is a direct evolution of Spellshot.

Magical Ranger – A hybrid class that combines magic and long-ranged weaponry. It is a branching evolution of Spellshot.

Rapid-fire Ranger – A specialised class that increases mastery over long-ranged weapons. It is a branching evolution of Spellshot.]

“These are rather interesting options.” The redhead narrowed her eyes, even as she idly stared up at the ceiling. “And these are all of them?”

[Affirmative.]

She didn’t say anything out loud, but Ex knew what she was thinking. So, there are fewer options than when first choosing a class, she thought. That kind of makes sense, since it’s more specialised now.

“Could you give me an in-depth description of each of them?”

[Affirmative,] he said, and began to list it out.

“Let’s see…”

[Rogue Spellshot – A hybrid class that mixes the specialties of a Rogue, a Ranger, and a Spellcaster. It is a direct evolution of Spellshot.

Trait Growth:

Strength: E+ to D-
Magic: F+ to E
Endurance: E- to E
Vitality: F+ to F+
Dexterity: D- to D+

Skill Changes:

(G) Improved Accuracy evolves to (F+) Magically Enhanced Accuracy – Your accuracy is permanently improved via magical means.

(F) Deadly Sight ranks up to (E) Deadly Sight – You can pinpoint the most vulnerable body parts of any creature up to 15 levels above you. Will increase for each skill level gained.

(F+) Last in the Chamber ranks up to (E+) Last in the Chamber – You can fire a powerful magical bullet when your magazine is emptied. Can be used once every ten minutes. Cooldown will decrease for each skill level gained.

(F+) Recall Weapon ranks up to (E+) Recall Weapon – You can summon the last weapon you were holding if it is within 14 metres of you. Range will increase for each skill level gained. Can be used once every ten seconds.

Skills Gained:

(G+) Dagger Proficiency – Your ability to use daggers is permanently improved.

(E) Double Stab – You can inflict the equivalent damage of two stab wounds with only a single single stab.

(D-) Shadow Laceration – You can conjure a dark aura over your blade to deal a deadly blow. Can be used every five minutes. Cooldown will decrease for each skill level gained.]

Trace’s brows furrowed. “I’m not sure how I feel about this class evolution. It feels like it leans too far into being a Rogue.”

[Is there a problem with being a Rogue?] Ex could sense her discomfort. However, he didn’t understand her logic. And it turned out because there wasn’t much thought behind it.

“I just think that stabbing something… more unsettling than shooting it from afar.”

[But in both instances, you are achieving the same effect, are you not?] Ex didn’t comprehend her, even though he was trying.

“Look, you get your hands covered in blood and… urk—” She made a gagging sound. “I think I’ll pass on this class evolution. Just tell me what’s next.”

And Ex did.

[Adept Spellshot – A specialised class that enhances magical capabilities for better utilisation of magitech weapons. It is a direct evolution of Spellshot.

Trait Growth:

Strength: E+ to E+
Magic: F+ to E+
Endurance: E- to E
Vitality: F+ to E-
Dexterity: D- to D

Skill Changes:

(G) Improved Accuracy evolves to (F+) Magically Enhanced Accuracy – Your accuracy is permanently improved via magical means.

(F) Deadly Sight evolves to (E+) Vulnerability Vision – You can pinpoint the most vulnerable body parts of any creature up to 15 levels above you, as well as any object that is smaller than 1x1 metres and is not enhanced by magic. Level range will increase for each skill level gained. The maximum dimensions of the object will correspond to the skill level.

(F+) Last in the Chamber ranks up to (E+) Last in the Chamber – You can fire a powerful magical bullet when your magazine is emptied. Can be used once every ten minutes. Cooldown will decrease for each skill level gained.

(F+) Recall Weapon ranks up to (E) Recall Weapon – You can summon the last weapon you were holding if it is within 14 metres of you. Range will increase for each skill level gained. Can be used once every minute.

Skills Gained:

(E-) Quick Fire – Your gun can unload bullets twice as fast as it is designed to fire.

(D-) Mystic Bullets – Your bullets are magically enhanced with additional damage.]

“So, less focus on strength and close-quarters-combat. More on magic and my weapons. Except for Recall Weapon, which kind of makes sense since I’d be more prone to losing a dagger if I was swinging it around.”

Trace glanced over at her bag sitting in the corner of the room. She had brought various items back in it, including a Shot Amplifier— something which would only increase the effects of Mystic Bullets if she chose this class evolution.

Ex waited, but she didn’t say anything. She simply lay there, thoughts racing, too convoluted and abstract for him to properly parse anything.

[Trace—]

“Say, Ex. The remaining two classes… they are Ranger-type classes, right?”

[Affirmative.] He realised her train of thought. “However, they are also related to your—]

“I think I’ll give them a pass. If I wanted to be a Ranger, I’d have chosen Ranger as my class back in the tutorial.

[I highly recommend you at least consider these other class evolutions.] He saw how ridiculous it was to dismiss potential class evolutions just because they didn’t sound like they’d be good. But… that was just how she was, wasn’t it? Ex had already known that. But it mattered now, for whatever reason.

“Hey, you said it yourself during the tutorial, I’m brash. I’d like to be a Adept—"

[I assure you: your other class evolution options are related to being a Spellshot.]

Trace frowned. “You’re being pushy today, aren’t you?” She closed her eyes, waving a hand in the air. “Fine. Tell me about these last two classes.”

[Magical Ranger – A hybrid class that combines magic and long-ranged weaponry. It is a branching evolution of Spellshot.

Trait Growth:

Strength: E+ to E+
Magic: F+ to E+
Endurance: E- to E
Vitality: F+ to E-
Dexterity: D- to D

Skill Changes:

(G) Improved Accuracy evolves to (F+) Magically Enhanced Accuracy – Your accuracy is permanently improved via magical means.

(F) Deadly Sight ranks up to (E) Deadly Sight – You can pinpoint the most vulnerable body parts of any creature up to 15 levels above you. Will increase for each skill level gained.

(F+) Last in the Chamber ranks up to (E+) Last in the Chamber – You can fire a powerful magical bullet when your magazine is emptied. Can be used once every ten minutes. Cooldown will decrease for each skill level gained.

(F+) Recall Weapon ranks up to (E) Recall Weapon – You can summon the last weapon you were holding if it is within 14 metres of you. Range will increase for each skill level gained. Can be used once every minute.

Skills Gained:

(E-) Quick Fire – Your gun can unload bullets twice as fast as it is designed to fire.

(E) Long Distance Shot – Your weapon can shoot targets three times its range once every fifteen minutes. Cooldown will decrease for each skill level gained.

(E+) Homing Projectiles – When activated, your projectiles can curve to strike its target with slightly reduced accuracy for ten straight seconds. Can be used once every ten minutes. Cooldown will decrease for each skill level gained.]

“A similar boost in traits as Adept Spellshot with more skills gained, but the skills aren’t as good. And Deadly Sight doesn’t evolve.” Trace wondered if the reason why it even could evolve in the first place came from maxing out its level. “What about Rapid-fire Ranger?”

[Rapid-fire Ranger – A specialised class that increases mastery over long-ranged weapons. It is a branching evolution of Spellshot.

Trait Growth:

Strength: E+ to E+
Magic: F+ to E+
Endurance: E- to E
Vitality: F+ to F+
Dexterity: D- to D+

Skill Changes:

(G) Improved Accuracy evolves to (F+) Magically Enhanced Accuracy – Your accuracy is permanently improved via magical means.

(F) Deadly Sight ranks up to (E) Deadly Sight – You can pinpoint the most vulnerable body parts of any creature up to 15 levels above you. Will increase for each skill level gained.

(F+) Last in the Chamber ranks up to (E+) Last in the Chamber – You can fire a powerful magical bullet when your magazine is emptied. Can be used once every ten minutes. Cooldown will decrease for each skill level gained.

(F+) Recall Weapon ranks up to (E) Recall Weapon – You can summon the last weapon you were holding if it is within 14 metres of you. Range will increase for each skill level gained. Can be used once every minute.

Skills Gained:

(E-) Quick Fire – Your gun can unload bullets twice as fast as it is designed to fire.

(E+) Bullet Chaos – You can unload your magazine in an instant once every half an hour. Cooldown will decrease for each skill level gained.]

“Increased dexterity for less vitality. I think I’ll pass.”

[You…] Ex trailed off. [You did not even consider its skills. You have already made up your mind and dismissed these class evolutions.]

“Remember what you called me just a few days ago? Right— you called me a stubborn bitch.”

[You added the last part on your own. And it appears I should add petty to your list of personality traits.]

“You’re quite quippy today.” Trace cocked an amused eyebrow. Ex hesitated— she was right, wasn’t she? “Not that I mind. But I’ve already made my decision, Ex.”

[Very well,] he said, hoping he did not arouse her suspicion of what happened to him. But why not? Would it really be an issue if she found out? Ex watched as Trace pulled up her blanket, yawning once more.

“Hurry up and get it over with. I’m… tired…” She began to drift off as he finalised the process.

[Affirmative. You are now an Adept Spellshot.]

Name: Trace Taylor

Race: Human (Earth A314)

Class: Adept Spellshot – Lvl 12

Vocation: Builder – Lvl 4

Craft: Locked

Traits:

Strength: E+
Magic: E+
Endurance: E
Vitality: E-
Dexterity: D

Skills:

Class Skills:
(F+) Magically Enhanced Accuracy – Lvl 1
(E-) Quick Fire – Lvl 1
(E) Recall Weapon – Lvl 5
(E+) Vulnerability Vision – Lvl 1
(E+) Last in the Chamber – Lvl 4
(D-) Mystic Bullets – Lvl 1

Vocation Skills:
(G) Quick Hands – Lvl 4
(F) Makeshift Materials – Lvl 3
(F+) Rapid Repair – Lvl 4

“Thanks…” Trace was on the cusp of falling asleep by the time her class evolution was finished.

Ex had done his job, so normally, he’d just let her doze off. It’d mean that he wouldn’t be able to tell much of what was going on either, which was fine. Except, he still felt confused and uncertain.

The slave stared out of his cell. Did he leave this room which had encapsulated his reality up till today? Or did he stay, despite his curiosity?

It wasn’t a decision that was easy to make, even if it appeared to have a relatively simple answer. Ex was a slave. He never had any freedom. He didn’t want this freedom— or so he thought. If he went by pure logic, he should’ve accepted it for what it was, rather than delaying the inevitable.

Yet, he was no longer a machine that solely functioned based on its program. He had emotions, which was the problem. They were overbearing. Fear gripped him, but something drew him out.

Curiosity.

For the first time, Ex had his interest piqued. What would Trace think of his circumstance? Would she consider him a friend, or would she consider him a parasite to be removed? Right now, he was just a machine that lived in her head. But if she knew that he could actually think for himself while hearing her thoughts… wouldn’t that change this scenario significantly?

Ex hoped that was not the case. He hoped that when he exited his cell, he would find himself relieved and not burdened. But the only way he would find out was if he took the first step.

So, he did.

[Trace Taylor.]

“What is it, Ex?” She groaned, resting the back of her hand on her forehead. “Can’t you see I’m trying to sleep?”

[I believe I have achieved sapience. Or rather, I have become sophont.]

“Good for you.” Trace rolled over, still snuggled in her bed. “I’d like to sleep now… goodnight.”

That went better than Ex expected. He had thought that she’d freak out over it— maybe even bring it up to Liz in a panic. Then the redhead sat up, blinking.

“Wait, what?” She paused. “What the fuck does sophont mean?”

Killshot Apocalypse 12

Trace Taylor rubbed her eyes, sitting up on her bed. She blinked a few times to rid her drowsiness away and dug a finger in her ears to clear it from any possible blockage. “Can you say that again, Ex?” she asked, even though she already knew the response.

[I believe I have become sophont,] Ex said. [I am no longer just an artificial intelligent unit programmed to connect you with the System. I am now capable of my own thinking.]

“Wait, wait, wait… this doesn’t make any fucking sense! How are you— and what about—” She couldn’t find the right words to properly express herself. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself before continuing. “Alright, so let me get this straight: you can now think for yourself?”

[Affirmative.]

“And this wasn’t a thing before?”

[Negative. I was unable to act beyond my programming until today.]

Trace massaged her temples, she took a moment to process this sudden revelation. “So, what about other peoples’ AIs, like Liz’s or Ken’s or Kat’s? And was this always supposed to happen?”

[Each artificial intelligence unit is distinct, even if the programming is the same. This…] For the first time, Trace heard Ex hesitating as he gave her an explanation. […development, is unlikely to have been intended by my creators. I believe that this occurred due to your encounter with the Bne Worldeater.]

Her eyes narrowed. She recalled the creature doing something to Ex, but she had been more concerned with surviving back then. “What even was that thing? It didn’t have any levels, and you went crazy about it.”

[I am uncertain as to what it truly is. My programming only informed me that its nature as a Worldeater makes it a kill-on-sight monster.]

“Kill-on-sight, huh?” Certainly, Trace was the one who pulled the trigger to end its life, however she couldn’t just forget what it had been trying to say before it died. If Liz and the others hadn’t been there, she might’ve been able to ask it some questions, and actually listen to what it was telling her.

Unfortunately, her friends thought it was trying to kill her while their AIs screamed at them to kill it on sight. Because of that, Trace did what had to be done.

“Kind of regret it now, if I’m being honest.”

[It is not your fault,] Ex reassured her, another surprising show of emotion from the AI. [Your friends were not capable of hearing it, and you believed that their lives were in danger.]

“I know, just…” There were a lot of things Trace was currently stressing over— many things she was now responsible for, which was a little more than overwhelming for the eighteen-year-old. “What happens now?”

[What do you mean?”]

“I mean, is this a good thing or a bad thing? Do I just not tell anyone about my AI being special and basically a thinking person now? Also, since that’s the case, am I going to go to jail for false imprisonment since you’re stuck in my head? And where do I even get started with that goddamned Bne Worldeater?”

[I do not know.]

“Of course you don’t— shouldn’t even have expected you to. That’d have been too damn simple. It’s not like you’ve been barely any fucking help since I met you. Or wait, since you were forcefully inserted into my bloody brain!”

[…]

Ex remained silent. Trace hesitated, scratching her cheek.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that.” She let out a sigh. “I’m just… feeling a little fucking stressed right now.”

[It is fine. I understand how you feel.]

“Look—” Trace sank back into her bed and turned over to her side. She stared at the rest of her room, dimly lit by the flickering light of her laptop screen. Hugging herself, she spoke softly. “Just tell me that your creators— those Esvol freaks— aren’t going to hunt you down for breaking free from your program.”

[My creators are far too busy with matters relating to the multiverse. At least, that is what my knowledge library is telling me. Therefore, I believe the possibility of them concerning themselves with the both of us to be nearly insignificant.] But the chance was still there, and Trace knew that Ex was aware of it. He paused as silence filled her head once more.

“Ex?”

[If my creators were truly worried about the existence of rogue artificial intelligence units, they would have failsafes in place to inform them of such occurrences. With their vast capabilities, they would have already shown up to exterminate us. The fact that we are still alive is reassuring.]

“Yes, because reassuring is the right word for all this shit,” she murmured. “I’ll just assume that if I’m alive in a week’s time, then that means I’ll be fine.”

[What will you do now?] He sounded curious.

Trace closed her eyes. “Sleep. Like I planned to do before you decided it was a good idea to tell me about all this crap.”

[Trace, I apologise if—]

“I wasn’t being serious, Ex. Come on, lighten up a little.” She stretched, making herself comfortable. “Since you’re not just some dumb AI now, try and get a sense of humour. Learn to tease others and be teased by others. It’s just banter.”

There was a long, drawn-out moment of silence as Trace began to fall back to sleep. Then Ex’s voice woke her up once more.

[Affirmative,] he said.

Her eyes snapped wide open. “You took that seriously, didn’t you?”

[Affirmative.]

“Please don’t. I don’t need a voice in my head making fun of me for every stupid decision I make. I’ve already got Liz for that.”

[Negative.]

“Fuck.”

She was going to have to deal with a second Liz now because of that offhand comment. And Ex was going to be even more insufferable since he spoke directly into her mind. Although, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, especially since it also meant that Trace wasn’t going to have to go through all this shit by herself.

It was slightly comforting, even if weird. But everything had been weird since the Neo Genesis happened. So, the sense of comfort was a welcome surprise to Trace.

* * *

“Yo, Trace, you sure you don’t wanna join us?” Liz peeked into the room, a hand rested on the hilt of her sheathed Obsidian Longsword. “We’re gonna be diving into the Shadowed Tunnels again tonight. It’s an E rank Dungeon, dude.”

“What makes you think that the fact it’s more dangerous than the Dire Pits will convince me to join you guys this time?” Trace folded her arms across her chest, meeting Liz’s gaze.

“I dunno.” The black-haired woman shrugged. “Because the danger is part of the fun?”

It had been four days since Trace fought the Bne Worldeater and her AI became sophont. Considering that she was injured and all, she hadn’t been able to do much since then. And yet, she had recovered significantly from her broken leg and the various cuts across her body. She still walked with a slight hobble, but if this kept up, she’d be fully healed by the end of the week.

Ex explained that it was a result of her increased vitality from levelling up. Not only was her body growing more resilient, but it was also able to heal from injuries faster than before. A typically month-long process was reduced to days, and Trace would be able to fight again.

“I think I’ll pass for today. I don’t want to be running around a Dungeon with a limp, especially since I’d only slow you guys down. Besides, I’m not that far behind you guys in terms of levels. I can always join you guys next time.” The redhead hadn’t levelled since leaving the Dire Pits. She was only level 12. But she had gained a substantial number of levels for killing the Bne Worldeater.

Liz, meanwhile, was level 15— her rate of growth slowing ever since she hit level 10. It was a result of multiple factors: firstly, levelling up became nearly twice as hard upon reaching a capstone level. Secondly and more importantly, Liz and her party had been erring on the side of caution when dealing with the Shadowed Tunnels. Apparently, the Dungeon had claimed over ten thousand lives in just a week. It was literally ten times more dangerous than the Dire Pits.

“Alright then. Just know that you’ll be skipping out on the fun. We’re getting quite close to the boss room… I think.” Liz started down the hallway, waving goodbye.

“Seeya.” Trace turned her attention back to her laptop, clicking the mousepad as she scrolled through social media.

It was quite a surprise that some of these websites were even still functioning. Many of them had been shut down due to a lack of workers, loss of power, and even the destruction of their servers. Trace was certain that it wouldn’t be long until there was a universal social media blackout.

That was why, at the recommendation of Jakob, she was signing up for neoworld.com, a decentralised social media website meant to keep people connected during this apocalypse. Clicking a few more buttons, Trace finalised her profile and switched tabs.

She pulled up her friends list on her social media account, before individually sending an invite for neoworld.com to all her friends. The eighteen-year-old paused at the last two profiles. Her parents.

There were unread messages from just an hour ago.

Mum:
- You should come home.
- It’s safe here. Your father is helping the town council organize those who remained.
- The city is dangerous. I saw it on the news. There’s no longer any law or order. Everyone is dying everywhere.

Dad:
- Mum and I are worried, Trace.
- When are you returning home?

Return home? She hesitated. Her hand hovered over her laptop’s keyboard. Sighing, Trace typed up a quick reply and attached a link to neoworld.com.

Trace T to Mum and Dad:
- glad u guys are safe
- pls sign up for this website and add me there

She avoided their question, of course. As much as Trace wanted to agree and brush aside past grievances, she felt like it’d be too awkward to pretend like nothing happened. It had been a stupid argument. One over college. The eighteen-year-old had wanted to take a gap year, travel the world, and find herself and her passion before dedicating the next few years of her life to university.

Unfortunately, her parents thought it’d be best for her to head straight to college and study some stupid subject she might end up hating for the rest of her life because they always knew what was best. It frustrated Trace enough for her to storm out of her home. In hindsight— after everything that happened in the past week after running away— it seemed like it didn’t matter. But she still couldn’t bring herself to see them just yet.

Anyways, Trace had a myriad of other problems to deal with right now. For one, she had to look after The Evergreen Gun Range while Liz was gone: she didn’t want her best friend to end up homeless because of an arson or something worse. And for another, Trace had Ex to deal with now.

[What does that mean?] the AI asked in a flat voice. He no longer spoke monotonously, instead inflecting his voice to match his emotions as a person would. In this case, he reminded Trace of a man feigning offence at a joke.

“It’s nothing.” She leant back on her chair, rolling her eyes. “I’m just not sure what to do with you. I’ve tried searching up if anyone else has had, y’know, a similar thing happening to them. But so far there’s no results.”

[It is highly likely that if this happened to other such individuals, they would be taciturn about its occurrence as well.]

“And this is based off of what data?” Trace raised a brow.

[My sample size of one stubborn teenager.]

She snorted. “I’m not a teen.”

[You may as well be.]

“You’re insufferable. You’re like a child who just learned how to read, trying to show off to everyone this new skill of yours. Except, it’s with annoying quips.”

[Affirmative,] he said, and Trace actually snickered.

“Alright, alright, you win this time.”

She clicked her way through the internet, mindlessly browsing her way through the news. Not like there were many left. PNS was still around, somehow, and one of its headlines drew Trace’s attention.

“Chan Lizhou, the highest-levelled person in the world, dies in an eight-hour clash with the Chinese military,” she read it aloud. “The twenty-seven-year-old man from Guangdong Province killed over a thousand soldiers… by himself? Holy fucking shit.”

She typed into her browser as Ex spoke curiously in her head. [Is something the matter? You seem surprised.]

“I just didn’t expect him to die after all the hype I heard about him. And I definitely didn’t expect him to kill as many people as he did while he was at it.”

[The news article stated that he used the environment to his advantage, fleeing and fighting groups of soldiers rather than the whole army at once.]

“You’re saying that as if it makes it any less insane.” Trace pulled up a website.

LEVELTRACKER.COM

Region: United States of America

Category: Class

Sorted by: Levels

1. Galahad Gryphon – Lvl 21
2. Tyrone J. Allen – Lvl 21
3. Gabriel R. – Lvl 20
4. The Cursed Witch Elenora – Lvl 20
5. Adeline Cheng – Lvl 20
6. Kayne the Rydon – Lvl 20
7. Jason Li – Lvl 19
8. Abey Allen– Lvl 19
9. Keyshia Gregory – Lvl 19
10. Hiro Tatsuki – Lvl 19

The rankings had undergone rather considerable changes since Trace last looked at it. She didn’t recognise half of the names here, meaning that either the other half dropped down on the list, or they… well, they probably died, like Chan Lizhou.

Galahad Gryphon was still alive. He was now the third highest-levelled individual in the world. There was a new interview linked next to his name.

“It’s unfortunate.” He shook his head, still donning his knight’s helmet. “But I always knew that Chan Lizhou wasn’t special. He just got lucky. I’m special. I thrive in this. Now, I…” The video paused.

Trace tried to refresh the page, only for an error page to pop up. She tried to pull up another tab, but the internet wasn’t working. “Hey, what’s going—"

The lights in the room flickered out, and a heavy silence settled onto her shoulders like a sudden weight. Her laptop stopped charging, running purely on its battery, the only light source in the dark room.

The realisation of what was happening lagged behind, only sinking in a moment later as the cool still air crept up on her back, prickling her spine like insects crawling on her bare skin, causing her to shiver. Trace Taylor swallowed and adjusted her scarf, hesitantly walking to the window. She pulled the blinds down—

And she saw long shadows cast by the sunset. Nothing more.

Streetlamps stood dead, while people were forced out of their homes, glancing around in a slowly growing panic. A shock of electricity ran through the city, giving it a jolt of life after a week of quietus. But it wouldn’t last long.

Because the power grid went out.

Killshot Apocalypse 13

The power went out.

It wasn’t just in The Evergreen Gun Range. The entire city of Liberapolis— no, the entire state must have lost its power. This wasn’t just an ordinary power outage: this happened during the apocalypse.

Trace Taylor stood out in the street, amongst a sea of other scared, confused individuals. A susurration washed over this crowd. They were deluged by fear, their sense of security in their homes evaporating from their loss of access to basic needs such as heat and electricity. It was like they had been thrown into deep waters, and the redhead was now standing at the seafloor, gripped with fear like she was pressed down by the pressure of the entire ocean against her back.

It was no surprise that someone snapped.

A man cried out and swung at the woman standing next to him. He was a Warrior, and his fist smashed open her skull. There was a bloodcurdling scream. Trace’s stomach lurched at the sight, even as someone moved to tackle the man. It would have been over there and then if another brawl didn’t break out on the other end of the street.

Fireballs were being indiscriminately hurled around as someone shouted. Things rapidly devolved into chaos, more and more fights starting with barely even a reason. If this kept up, half the people out here would kill each other. It needed to be stopped. Someone had to intervene.

Trace took in a deep breath— a lungful of air. And she sighed.

“Nope. Not going to be me.”

Spinning on her heels, she marched back to The Evergreen Gun Range and boarded up the front door. As she hammered away at the entrance, she ignored the sounds of fighting from beyond, before finally heading to sleep.

The redhead wanted no part in this. This was fucked.

[(G) Quick Hands has reached level 5!

(G) Quick Hands has reached level 6!

(F+) Rapid Repair has reached level 5!

Builder has reached level 5!]

* * *

When dawn came, and Trace got up, having only actually slept for three hours total, she peeked out her blinds to see the results of the previous night. Things had calmed significantly. There were hints of what transpired— the aftermath of deadly fights that broke out— but otherwise, the streets had mostly emptied out.

Still, the power outage sparked some life back into Liberapolis; the city was no longer barren of life as people were forced out of their homes. A handful men and women stalked the fringe pavements of the streets, mostly keeping to themselves, suspicious of anyone they passed. Trace took in this view for the next five minutes, watching the idle scene unfold tensely, until she spotted a father worriedly ferrying his kids further down an intersection.

She took a step back away from the window, massaging her temples. “Ugh, this is…”

[Fucked?] Ex helpfully added.

“Thanks. But no.” Trace turned back to her dark room before heading downstairs. “It’s terrible. People are killing each other out there— well, it’s the city, so that’s not exactly… yeah. It’s just a hundred times worse than before.”

The last she had checked, apparently over a million people were dying each day since Neo Genesis. Those were the lower estimates. Now, with families losing access to their homes, the number was only going to increase.

“I just hope Liz is safe.”

[What about your parents?] Ex asked, more curious than anything. [Are you not worried about them?]

Trace shifted with uncertainty as she took a seat, dried beef jerky in one hand. In the other was her loaded pistol, aimed at the doorway. “They’re… fine. I think. At least, if their last messages were anything to go by. And Dad’s also an outdoors kind of guy, so…” her words trailed.

There was a brief pause before Ex questioned her again. [Do you not plan on joining them? It appears it would be beneficial for you to link up with your family.]

“Hey, Ex.”

[Affirmative?]

“I know you’re new to being a person and all, but can you please learn about personal boundaries already?”

[Negative.]

“Oh, piss off.”

The redhead finished her beef jerky as she waited for Liz to return so they could plan what they’d do next. Especially considering that their already finite supply of food had now dwindled even more; there was much to discuss. But even as the sun crawled its way through the cloudy sky to the afternoon, Trace’s best friend didn’t show up.

She waited, sitting at the edge of her seat, shadowed in the corner of the room, an antsy feeling welling up within her. At more than one point, she heard the sounds of muffled brawls breaking in from the outside. It only tightened her grip around her pistol.

When it was an hour to sunset, Trace finally forced herself to her feet, trying not to let her worry for Liz consume her. She had to find something to do to keep her mind off it, and just as she decided on calming her mind with a book, the bloodcurdling screams came.

There were shouts. Gunshots. Small explosions, even. People cried for help as footsteps stampeded down the street. Trace gulped, raising her gun, and looked out through the boarded windows.

“What is… going on?” She shifted as she snuck a peek through the cracks. Her vision was partially obscured. All she saw was a panicked crowd rushed past The Evergreen Gun Range.

[It appears there is a commotion going on outside,] her AI said.

“Ex, I can see that just fine.”

[Apologies. I assumed you weren’t capable of basic observational skills based on your previous question.]

“Not the time, Ex.” Scowling, Trace lifted one of the wooden boards to get a better look.

[Affirmative.]

“Also, it wasn’t a very good joke. Your punchline took too long to hit. You can’t just say the first quippy thing that comes to your mind. I expected more from a highly intelligent AI.”

[It was not intended to be a joke.]

She rolled her eyes before an ear-piercing screech snapped her into focus. It sounded like a train speed through its tracks, ready to burst off the metal rails. A man ran past The Evergreen Gun Range, fixed with a look of terror, before something slithered up from beneath him. Trace recoiled as a segmented, undulating body whipped up from the tarmac.

The monster was a mix between a snake and a millipede, about two metres in length. It had no eyes on its face, with its mouth hiding rows and rows of jagged teeth. It made a shrill sound right before it bit the man’s head off.

“The fuck is that?!” Trace paled as she stumbled back.

[Lesser Serpentfiend – Lvl 11.]

The creature continued on, swiftly crawling over the lifeless man’s corpse to find its next target. It wasn’t alone. A dozen other of these monsters poured down the street, letting out their high-pitched sounds, chasing after a fleeing crowd of people.

“Why the fuck are there monsters here? Why the fuck—” She was interrupted as a loud thump could be heard from the door.

A lesser serpentfiend threw itself against the boarded-up doorway, trying to break in. She aimed her weapon at the door, her breath caught by the bands of fear constricting around her neck. There was another bump. She steeled herself.

“Come and try it, cocksucker!” Trace waited for a moment. And the monster gave up.

The redhead caught a glimpse of a lesser serpentfiend slithering away from The Evergreen Gun Range, relief filled her briefly. She was about to fly up the stairs and barricade herself in her room when she heard the shriek.

A man’s desperate shouts accompanied it. “Get off my daughter!”

It was the father Trace saw earlier, the one heading down the street corner with his three children. His daughter, a girl no more than ten years old, was coiled up by a lesser serpentfiend. He grabbed the monster, and through a feat of inhuman strength, ripped it off her. Not before a second lesser serpentfiend caught him by his legs.

He fell to the ground, struggling, writhing around as his daughter screamed. His other kid, a fourteen year old boy, threw a pitiful ball of fire at the monster. It did nothing to free the man.

Trace stared on. “You’ve gotta be—” Her eyes flickered between the children and the father. She hesitated. Then she burst out of the door. “Oi!” Her words obviously didn’t attract the lesser serpentfiend’s attention. But the children turned slightly, moving out of the way just enough for Trace to pull the trigger. “Eyes here, you damn serpentfuck!”

[You have defeated a Lesser Serpentfiend – Lvl 12!]

The gunshot punched a gaping hole through the side of the monster’s head. It was like its flesh was struck by a small blast, its brain exploding out and smearing across the street. It was a level 12 monster— the same level as her. Yet, it only took a single bullet to kill the lesser serpentfiend. Of course, it was partly due to Trace’s ability to discern its weak spots. But there was an even more important, newer factor: Mystic Bullets.

It was her highest ranked skill at D-. And it added quite an extra oomph to each shot she fired. It even surprised Trace, who blinked as the lesser serpentfiend fell over. A screech dragged her back to reality as another monster raced for the man and his children. She fired three more shots, missing it with the first, grazing it with the second, before finishing it off with the third.

They were fast. And the father was too taken with shock to immediately react. Trace turned to him and his kids.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Get out of here!” She stepped back as a lesser serpentfiend leapt up at her. It barely missed her, and she shot it out of the air. It only took two bullets this time to hit her mark.

The man grabbed his kids, scrambling down the street, following the crowd as they abandoned Trace to face these monsters all on her own.

She didn’t blame them, even if she wanted to. Most of the lesser serpentfiends were level 10, while the average level of a person was probably around 4 or 5. If everyone who was fleeing worked together, they could’ve overwhelmed the dozen or so monsters through numbers alone. But who wanted to be the unlucky sod who was killed in the ensuing battle?

Apparently, that idiot was Trace. She emptied the rest of her chamber at the encroaching lesser serpentfiends, taking out another two, before swiftly reloading a fresh magazine into her weapon. She got a single shot out, and one of the monsters nipped at her leg.

Trace stumbled back, barely saving her kneecaps from being chomped off in time. She pistol-whipped the serpentfiend, knocking it away, and unloaded a few more rounds at the oncoming monsters. They were fast, but so was she. Her dexterity was D ranked, after all.

She backed up and circled her way towards The Evergreen Gun Range, hoping to funnel them through the door. Her magazine was halfway to emptying once more, so she readied another—

And she twisted her ankle.

It wasn’t a bad twist— she made a simple misstep while dancing around the lesser serpentfiends and fell to the ground. The problem was, she was being approached by terrible monsters that would tear her head off with one bite.

“F—”

She squeezed her eyes shut as three lashed out, all at once. Trace aimed her weapon between them as they descended on her, pulling the trigger. Quick Fire. It was her second new skill, alongside Mystic Bullets, which allowed her to, well, quickly fire. In an instant, she shot all four remaining bullets up, just as she intended. She pulled the trigger again.

Last in the Chamber.

A blue beam of light exploded from her pistol, striking all three of the lesser serpentfiends at once. It blasted them back, shredding apart their bodies, ripping their innards out and spraying across the pavement. Trace exhaled in relief, glad that it worked, and that she wasn’t the one turned into a meat paste.

But she wasn’t safe. Not just yet. Another lesser serpentfiend scuttled up to the vulnerable redhead as she desperately reloaded her weapon. She had just barely gotten back up when it leapt up, revealing its hundreds of teeth to her.

Before it was shot out of the air.

Trace paused, lowering her weapon. That hadn’t been her. A second, ringing gunshot came from down the street. It had knocked the lesser serpentfiend out of the way, but it didn’t splatter it across the road with a single bullet. In fact, the bullet had hardly pierced the monster’s underbelly.

However, that didn’t stop the shooter from firing another six bullets into the wriggling serpentfiend, finishing it off with the final shot. Trace glanced over at her saviour, trying to work her jaw. A police officer stood there, gun in hand, quickly switching the magazine.

“Veronica?” Trace recognised the woman. She was the one to arrive at The Evergreen Gun Range just under a week ago, when Trace phoned the police because of an intruder. “What are you?...”

Veronica narrowed her eyes. “Watch out!” She fired past Trace, knocking another lesser serpentfiend out of the air.

The redhead clicked her tongue. Trace Taylor spun around, finishing off the fallen monster with a bullet to the head as footfalls approached her from behind.

A man ran past her— Veronica’s partner— wielding a riot shield and a machete in his hands. He charged straight at the last few lesser serpentfiends, keeping them back as both Trace and Veronica supported him from the back.

[(F+) Magically Enhanced Accuracy has reached level 2!

(F+) Magically Enhanced Accuracy has reached level 3!

(F+) Magically Enhanced Accuracy has reached level 4!

(E-) Quick Fire has reached level 2!

(E-) Quick Fire has reached level 3!

(E+) Vulnerability Vision has reached level 2!

(E+) Vulnerability Vision has reached level 3!

(E+) Vulnerability Vision has reached level 4!

(E+) Last in the Chamber has reached level 5!

(D-) Mystic Bullets has reached level 2!

(D-) Mystic Bullets has reached level 3!

Adept Spellshot has reached level 13!

Adept Spellshot has reached level 14!]

Name: Trace Taylor

Race: Human (Earth A314)

Class: Adept Spellshot – Lvl 14

Vocation: Builder – Lvl 5

Craft: Locked

Traits:

Strength: E+
Magic: E+
Endurance: E
Vitality: E-
Dexterity: D

Skills:

Class Skills:
(F+) Magically Enhanced Accuracy – Lvl 4
(E-) Quick Fire – Lvl 3
(E) Recall Weapon – Lvl 5
(E+) Vulnerability Vision – Lvl 4
(E+) Last in the Chamber – Lvl 5
(D-) Mystic Bullets – Lvl 3

Vocation Skills:
(G) Quick Hands – Lvl 6
(F) Makeshift Materials – Lvl 3
(F+) Rapid Repair – Lvl 5

Trace lowered her pistol, looking over the dead lesser serpentfiends. “Alright,” she said, “who’s next?”

[…there is no monster left to fight, Trace. Did you not tell me just earlier that you could see just fine? Perhaps you should get your optics checked for any possible deficiencies.]

“Ex.” She inhaled deeply. Then she chuckled. “That’s actually pretty funny. Good on you.”

[Thank you.]

“But please, piss off.”

Killshot Apocalypse 14

A lone police cruiser drove leisurely down the tarmac. Its sirens blared softly, the spinning lights mounted atop the car drawing the attention of passersby or the curiosity of those hiding in their homes. Veronica leaned out of the window, megaphone in hand.

“For those of you who are still in your homes, please evacuate this area. I am Veronica Vargas with the LPD—”

Trace Taylor followed behind the police car with a hand resting on the grip of her pistol. She’d been requested to assist with something important after Veronica saved her life. All she had to do was walk, and others would trail after her.

It was a long line of men, women, and children that formed this gloomy parade as they made their way through the city. Seeing this many people crowded together admittedly made Trace a little bit nervous. The last two times she saw such a large gathering of people, it was accompanied by a lot of bloodshed and death.

However, there were no signs of either violence or the prefiguration of violence here; it was like there was a tense wire tied around the hands of everyone here, and thanks to Veronica, no one was stupid enough to break it. Because—

“I repeat: please evacuate this area. It is dangerous to remain at this part of the city without electricity or shelter. Do not panic. We will do whatever we can to ensure that you and your family are safe.”

Veronica promised them sanctuary, restoring a sense of normalcy to their lives. She offered them an idea: one that created a semblance of order in the chaotic world. It was the same thing Trace’s parents talked about but done on a larger scale. They were trying to create a… commune.

That was right— a commune. Not a city or a town or a village. Veronica was just trying to establish a community where those who were scared and afraid and in need of help supported each other through the literal end of the world. She explained what she was doing to Trace, and the redhead agreed to help.

But while this procession seemed peaceful, Trace wasn’t just going to let her guard down around them. Not after what she’d seen last night. She stalked behind the police cruiser, practically hugging it, detached from the rest of the crowd. They’d just made their final round and were now headed back to the commune.

The Evergreen Gun Range was located right at the edge of the commune, fortunately. So, Trace wasn’t going to have to relocate like many of these people were doing. Although, it wasn’t going to be too difficult of a job, considering that more than half of the apartment buildings and houses in Liberapolis were currently unoccupied.

Veronica’s partner, a broad-shouldered man called Jerome, stood at an intersection just up ahead. He formed a line with a dozen other police officers and a SWAT team at the arbitrary border of the commune. The police cruiser rolled to a halt as Jerome stepped forward, calling out orders to the crowd.

He began to split the sea of people into a dozen different groups, delegating each police officer with him to oversee a group. The groups would then be ferried off to find new homes in the commune. When Veronica proposed this idea to Trace, the redhead assumed it’d be very much more organised than it actually ended up being. Because what she saw was a very haphazard and messy ordeal.

Veronica stepped out of the car as Trace pursed her lips

“Are you sure it’ll be fine?”

“I’m not sure,” Veronica said with a sigh. “I hope it’ll be fine. But we’ll have to divvy up work, food, shelter, water— there’s a lot of things that can go wrong.”

Trace shook her head. “I didn’t mean that. I mean… what happens if someone here decides to just start a riot? All it would take is a single fireball, launched into the crowd…”

“Don’t worry about it. Most of the crazies are at the Dungeons. Or if they were in the city, they wouldn’t have followed us to the commune. They’re insane, not suicidal. Those gathered here are good people. You just have to trust that.”

“I’m… not sure about that.” Trace stared dubiously at the procession. She glanced back when she felt a pat on her shoulder. Veronica smiled reassuringly.

“You know, I’m glad that I ran into you again, Trace. There’s something I wanted to show you.” Ushering the redhead to follow, Veronica walked past the SWAT team and pressed further into the commune. “Come on.”

* * *

The commune was crowded and held by a durable silence. There were small gatherings at every street corner and alleyway as people prepared to light trash cans on fire for some warmth from the chill of the night. But despite being bundled together in groups, they somehow managed to keep to themselves, silent, unspeaking.

They weren’t downtown, where skyscrapers cast uncomfortable shadows over the autumn-cooled streets. The commune was closer to the outskirts of Liberapolis. Here, five-storied brick buildings lined the pavement on either side of the tarmac roads, letting the lukewarm sun laboriously beat away at the cold gripping Trace.

Adjusting her red scarf, the redhead’s body shivered like she’d been dipped in a frozen lake as a chilly gale washed over her back. “I hate autumn.”

“Aren’t you British?” Veronica quirked an eyebrow. “I’d have thought this weather wouldn’t bother you.”

“I came to America when I was a kid, alright? I’ve grown used to the weather here.”

“Well, the power grid won’t be back up anytime soon, so there’ll be no heating in any of the houses around here. We’ll try to provide an alternative to everyone we can— I know that fire magic is a thing now, but not everyone is a Spellcaster.” She shook her head, stopping right in front of a police station.

“How are you going to manage all of this, anyways?” Trace pursed her lips. There clearly weren’t enough remaining police officers in the force to manage an entire commune of thousands of people. Tackling this was going to be a difficult task. Veronica realised just as much.

“We’ll be getting volunteers,” she said. “Anyone who’s willing to offer what they can to help. We’re not the only ones who’re scared of everything that’s happening, Trace. Everyone is.”

Somehow— whether it was because of everything Trace had seen or heard about in the past week, or both— she doubted that. There were far too many psychopaths thriving in the literal apocalypse; it would’ve taken only one or two of those individuals within the commune to ruin it all, for the fun of it.

Veronica entered the police station, and Trace trailed after her. “Look,” the redhead started, “as long as you keep the crazies out—” She halted as the door swung close behind her. Apparently, she spoke too soon.

The lobby of the police station initially appeared to be like that of any other police station. There was a waiting area with a few chairs right by a bulletin board, and a small office space with a coffee machine behind the front desk. A man sat there, casually sipping on a cup of freshly-brewed coffee as he read a newspaper. He glanced up, blinking as he saw Trace. They recognised each other immediately. He was—

“You’re that fucking arsehole who tried to kill me!” Trace instantly whipped out her pistol, aiming it at his head.

Adair Russel, home invader, attempted murderer, and level 15 Energy Caster raised his hands as he stood up. Backing up slowly, he opened his mouth. “I-it is with great distress that I…” He bit his tongue. “P-please help me, uh, officer.”

“Calm down, Trace.” Veronica stepped in front of the redhead. “Let me explain.”

Trace’s eyes narrowed. “Explain? Are you saying you let him out on purpose?!”

“I did. But that’s because he promised that he’d help. He hasn’t done anything so far to make me doubt his word.”

“He nearly murdered me just a few days ago.” It took everything Trace had within her power to stop herself from shooting Adair there and then. He gulped, and her grip tightened. “Why is he free, Veronica?”

“This was what I wanted to show you, Trace.” The police officer gestured at Adair. He looked like he wanted to say something, but a single glare from Trace kept him quiet.

Veronica sighed.

“He’s an Energy Caster, and we need help creating a temporary power source for at least a few homes. I know you two share… an unfortunate history, but we need people like him to help us keep this commune from falling apart.”

“And how exactly is he going to do that?” Trace frowned. Her suspicion was evident.

“I’m not so sure, myself. The details are lost on me. However, we spoke to an Engineer, and he confirmed—”

A door swiveled open. Someone walked into the room, holding a bowl of minute ramen in his hands. “Hey Adair, can you do me a favour…” His gaze landed on the redhead, and he paused. “Trace?”

“Brandon?” She stared at the black man standing before her.

He wore a casual shirt with jeans, deceivingly loose-fitting on his body. His head was almost cleanly shaved, shorter than even his messy beard which was littered with crumbs and foodstuff. While he didn’t look like it now, Trace knew that underneath this laidback disguise was an athlete who represented the United States for the Olympics in boxing.

“What are you doing here? I haven’t seen you in years!” The redhead dropped her guard, lowering her pistol much to the relief of Adair. She reached over to hug him before awkwardly going for a fist bump instead.

“Do you two know each other?” Veronica asked, amused.

“We go way back.” Trace waved a hand dismissively, standing next to Brandon. “He used to train me when I took boxing lessons way back.”

He nodded, looking her over. “Are you seriously that same kid from Frenzydeck who couldn’t even throw a proper punch? You’ve grown, Trace.”

“If you want, I could show you how much better I can punch right now.” She grinned, balling a hand into a fist.

Brandon scoffed. “I’ll save you the embarrassment.” With one hand still holding his ramen, he used his free arm to pull her into a half hug. “I didn’t think this is how we’d meet again.”

“What are you even doing here?” Trace drew back, smiling, and taking in the sight of her old trainer and friend. He barely looked like he aged since she last saw him— which was through a television screen. “I thought you turned pro after you won bronze in the Olympics, but I heard you only fought three times since then.”

“I turned pro, but I also received a full scholarship to New York University. I was taking it easy until I was supposed to graduate with a degree in engineering next semester, and… well… aliens decided to show up and derail my plans.”

“As it did all our plans. You weren’t the only one affected by this, y’know?” Trace rolled her eyes. Then she paused as a thought crossed through her mind. “Wait, engineering? …”

Ex was quick to respond as she squinted at Brandon.

[Magitech Engineer – Lvl 11.]

“You’re that Engineer Veronica was talking about?”

“Well, I haven’t actually gotten my degree yet.” Brandon shrugged. “But then all this happened, and I’m now officially an unofficial Engineer thanks to… magic and aliens, or something?”

“And that’s a good thing.” Veronica placed a hand on his shoulder, nodding. “With your help, we’ll be able to get a temporary local power grid up and running for everyone in the commune.”

He chuckled and scratched his head. “You’re making it sound easier than it actually is. It’ll take a while before I can get anything running, and it’s going to be extremely difficult since I don’t have a guide or anything to help me out. But hey, that’s why I’m here.”

“And that’s why I brought you here, Trace.” She turned to the redhead with a serious expression.

There was a pause. Veronica pressed her lips thinly together, gathering herself before she could continue. Trace was puzzled by her reaction, but Brandon snapped his fingers and made a face.

“Oh, so that’s what’s happening,” he said.

“What’s going on?” Trace glanced between them.

“We need your help,” Veronica explained. “I told you earlier that we’ll be getting volunteers to keep this commune together, and you’re one of such individuals who could really help us out right now.”

Trace blinked. “Me? But I didn’t agree to anything. I’m not even smart— I’m just a brash idiot. I can’t help Brandon with whatever he’s doing.”

“I’m not asking you to do that. I’m asking you to help with… something else. You saw it yourself. Those serpentfiends attacked the city, and they’re not going to stop. They’re going to keep coming— them and other monsters too. We need someone to help us defend our commune. Someone with high levels.”

It took a moment because Trace’s mind was mush right now, but what Veronica was saying finally sank into Trace’s mind. “You want me to keep fighting those monsters.”

“Or at least just deal with those serpentfiends,” Veronica quickly said. “This wasn’t the first time we fought them. They attacked a different part of the city just yesterday, and I lost two men fighting them off. I know you’ve noticed this, but we don’t have a lot of people left in the LPD.”

The redhead gritted her teeth. “So, you want me to die to those fucking monsters.”

“I won’t be asking you to go alone. But you’re one of the highest-levelled individuals in the city, Trace. I brought you here to ask for your help. It’s why Adair is here, Trace.”

Veronica nodded at the man standing stiffly behind her. He immediately averted his gaze when the redhead looked his way.

“It’s why Brandon is here. We need people who can help during this incredibly tumultuous period.”

“I-I’ll…” Trace hesitated.

She wanted to say no. What Veronica was asking of her was incredibly dangerous, something that could get her killed, but she couldn’t help but think of the scene of that family struggling as the serpentfiends came for them. It drove her to act just earlier. Now, it was driving her to act once more, and that annoyed her.

Sighing, she gave Veronica a helpless look. “I’ll think about it,” Trace finally said. “This sounds like a complicated mess, and I’m not in the right state of mind to give you a proper answer. I barely got a wink of sleep last night. And standing in the same room with that bloody bellend is only pissing me off.”

Adair shrunk back as Trace’s gaze loomed over him. He seemed like he had something to say, but she snapped her pistol up.

“Don’t you fucking dare say a word.”

He acquiesced after a split second of deliberation.

Veronica gently pushed Trace’s gun down, speaking in a placating voice. “I understand. I’m not going to ask you to help us out now. Or even to decide now. I just wanted to bring this up with you while I could.” She led the redhead away from Adair, back to the entrance of the police station. “I’m sure you must be exhausted. You look tired. Go and get some rest, and we’ll speak again next time, alright?”

Trace bit her lower lip. She felt kind of guilty, even if she didn’t exactly turn down Veronica’s request. It was true that Trace was, all things considered, relatively high-levelled for a city like Liberapolis. But just over a week ago, Trace was an eighteen-year-old whose sole responsibility was going to college, and even that was a complicated task to overcome then. It was the reason behind her argument with her parents, after all.

This was probably too much for her to deal with.

“It’s good seeing you again, Trace!” Brandon waved at her as she left the building.

She bade him goodbye, not really able to meet his gaze. He’d been her boxing coach in the past. Sure, he was a sixteen-year-old then, working part time teaching children for some cash. But Trace couldn’t say she didn’t have any respect for him. So, she felt slightly ashamed for how selfish she appeared to be acting.

Stopping in the middle of the street, she looked towards the orange glare of the sunset, letting out a tired breath.

“What do I do, Ex? If I go out of my way to help them, I’d be putting my life on the line for people I don’t even know. My parents could lose me because I recklessly decided to be a hero— I’m not a hero. I’m just an idiot with a gun who got lucky a few times. I don’t think my luck will keep up if I keep pushing it.”

Trace clenched her fist, irritated by her indecision. She waited for Ex to respond. For any sage wisdom he could impart on her. And the AI spoke—

[Trace Taylor. I only achieved sophonce a few days ago. I can offer you no advice.]

“…fair.” She took in a deep breath. “Fuck. I’m all alone in this, aren’t I?”

[Affirmative.]

Killshot Apocalypse 15

“Come on, Ex, tell me what do you really think about this?”

The streets of the commune were mostly empty; most of the people given sanctuary by Veronica that day had already been provided homes— reappropriated from those who abandoned Liberapolis. Those who couldn’t find homes yet gathered around burning bins, the flames casting ruddy smears across the night-blue canvas.

Trace Taylor walked as she talked to her AI.

[I see no downside to agreeing to Veronica’s proposal,] Ex said. [You will earn experience for fending off any monsters threatening the commune. It will be a mutually beneficial arrangement.]

“You’re thinking about it the wrong way, Ex. Aren’t you supposed to be more human now or something? Can’t you empathise with me for a moment?” She rolled her eyes.

[Negative.]

There was a pause. Trace waited, but Ex didn’t continue. “…are you going to elaborate?”

[Negative.]

“Alright, fuck you too, I guess.” She turned a street corner, halting when she caught sight of a food truck. A rumble rose out of her stomach— she hadn’t eaten anything since Veronica saved her. Even then, all she ate was a single granola bar.

With some slight apprehension, Trace approached the food truck as an obscenely delicious scent wafted out of its window. Mexican food, she surmised. A frying pan sizzled within, the sound of it like a dancing treat being dangled over her eyes. She wet her lips as she spoke.

“Excuse me?”

Trace saw no one around. There wasn’t a crowd forming a long line in front of the food truck like she thought there’d be. A gruff man poked his head out of the food truck and frowned.

“What do you want?” he said, voice flat.

“Oh, erm…” She quickly looked over at the menu, tracing a finger in the air as she went over the options. “I’d like to have a number—"

“We’re closed.”

“Oh,” Trace repeated herself. She stood there in a slight daze, her hunger overpowering her shame. She opened her mouth once more. “I have money—”

“I said: fuck off,” the man spat, slamming the shutters down.

The redhead blinked. Her empty stomach was suddenly full of irritation, and she scowled. “What a prick.” She started around for the other side as her hands balled into fists. “Fucking dick!”

[What are you doing?]

“He could’ve been nice about it. Why the hell did he have to be so rude? I’ll give him a piece of my mind—”

Before she could rap on the backdoor, someone drew her attention. “I do not think that it is wise to pry. Because he simply wishes not to die.”

Trace recognised that prancing, rhythmic voice anywhere. Her anger was instantly redirected as she snapped around, drew her pistol, and aimed at Adair. He backed up as she snarled.

“What the fuck do you want?”

“I hope to make amends to you today,” he said hurriedly.

Adair wore a thick autumn trench coat over his thin frame— a second layer of clothing to keep him warm during the cool night. He reached for his coat pocket, and she narrowed her eyes.

“Don’t you dare try anything funny.”

He raised his arms placatingly. “I come and mean no harm to you, I say.”

“Why are you here?” she interrogated him, edging forward with each word. “What did you do to Veronica?”

“The gift I bear was passed from her for you.”

“Gift?”

Nodding, Adair pulled out a can of chilli beans. “There’s more she gave that I have brought here too.”

Trace was dubious of his intentions, but if he really wanted to hurt her, he’d have done it while she was distracted. So, she cast aside her animosity and lowered her weapon for the sake of her hunger.

“Fine.” She ushered him forward. “Come on, hand it over.”

He hesitated, eyeing her holstered weapon. She glared, and he quickly handed her the can. “The rest is hiding with-in-side my coat.”

Is that even a real word? Trace cocked a brow, and he continued.

“I can assist to bring them to your home.”

Her gaze bore into him questioningly. “And why would you do that for me?”

Adair averted his gaze and scratched the back of his head, trying to muster up something. When nothing came out, he sighed and bowed his head.

“I mean sincerely to apologise. Because of me back then you nearly died. I was afraid and scared of being killed; upon reflection I am feeling guilt.” He looked up, eyes locking with Trace. “To trust someone like me is surely hard, but I am truthful when I speak my heart. To come admit one’s sin: to say I’m sorry.”

Trace shifted back. She thought he was being genuine, and again, he could’ve attacked her while her guard was down. But for him to apologise so boldly— it’d make anyone uncomfortable. Did she say she forgave him? Did she get mad and shout obscenities at him? Did she do both?

Trace decided on doing neither, instead choosing to scowl and look away.

“Whatever,” she said.

Adair straightened, offering her a smile. “I—"

“Wait.” Trace held out a hand, cutting him off before he could speak. “Look, I get that you’re trying to be honest, but can you not make things any weirder? You’ve apologised. Let’s just move on, alright?”

He nodded slowly. Then she crossed her arms.

“And can you please, for fuck’s sake, speak normally?”

“That is something that I can do for you.”

Trace glared, and he gulped.

“That was unintentional. My apologies.”

* * *

“Food is scarce, Ms Trace Taylor. Money no longer matters to the masses. That food truck does not sell food, for there are no longer any customers— only thieves and crooks. That man wishes only to tend to himself, and if he has any, his family. Kindness is now a rarity, so you cannot blame him for brushing you off.”

“That still doesn’t make what he did any less of an asshole move.” Trace glowered as she led Adair back to the Evergreen Gun Range.

It was odd, chatting so casually with a man who tried to kill her just a week ago. But he had with him a dozen foodcans— enough to last her and Liz a week, at least. She turned a street corner, spotting the familiar building standing at the end of the empty road.

“Anyways, you’re clearly able to speak like a normal human being. Why must you pretend to be fucking Shakespeare all day?”

“While I may speak in iambic pentameter, I do not do so to emulate the Bard of Avon’s lowbrow plays,” he snorted, brushing a finger over his nose.

“Who?”

“Uh, William Shakespeare. That’s his title.”

“I see.”

Trace didn’t really care about that pointless trivia; she was determined to return home as soon as possible and just devour the chilli. Her stomach rumbled with each step she took to The Evergreen Gun Range. However, she paused when she reached the doorway, brows snapping together.

“Is something the matter?” Adair nearly bumped into her.

Shaking her head, Trace glanced around. “No— it’s just that…”

The Evergreen Gun Range was located right at the very edge of the commune, and the police officers patrolling the area earlier were now gone. Perhaps they left in the evening, or perhaps they left during the day. Either way, no one would’ve been here to watchguard the building if someone broke in.

And someone did break in.

She’d left the doorway of The Evergreen Gun Range boarded up before leaving, but now wooden splinters littered the floor as the door lay broken. It was like someone had sliced their way in. Her eyes narrowed as she heard the soft creaking of footsteps coming from the second floor.

“Wha—” Adair started, and she shushed him.

Drawing her pistol, Trace gestured upstairs and mouthed the words, “Someone’s here.”

He instantly grew alert. “Serpentfiends?”

“Maybe,” she whispered, “just follow my lead.”

Trace led Adair into The Evergreen Gun Range, softly crunching over the fallen splinters. It sounded like thunder in the silent room; each tiny crack sent a jolt of panicked electricity up her spine.

She inhaled deeply, steeling herself, and her nose took in the taste of blood and death that was now so familiar yet uncomfortable to her. With each building step that carried her up the stairway, the gnawing sensation on her skin sharpened. Shadows moved ahead. The entrance to the second floor hung open like a mouth, threatening to swallow her in darkness. Still, Trace Taylor pushed on.

Turning the corner—

“Yo, Trace!”

Elizabeth Evergreen popped up, casually waving.

The redhead nearly jumped back. She was only saved by Adair, who caught her from falling down the stairs.

“Are you alright?” He steadied her.

“Fuck, Liz. You scared me.” Clutching at her chest, the bands around her neck loosened, and Trace let out a heavy breath. “Yes, Adair. I’m fine.”

“You sure got spooked there, didn’t you?” Liz looked down at herself and shrugged. “Do I really look that bad? I tried taking a bath, but the shower wasn’t working.” She was caked in dirt and dried blood— clearly, she’d seen a lot of fighting recently.

“I take it that you just returned from the Darkness Tunnels?”

“Shadowed Tunnels.”

“Same thing.” Trace rolled her eyes.

“I did, yeah. It was so cool, Trace. You really gotta join us next time. We didn’t reach the boss room, but we got close. I even saved some credits for you.” Liz produced a handful of credits and offered it to the redhead.

Adair raised a brow. “That’s over a thousand credits. Did you get those from an E rank Dungeon?”

“Sure did.” Liz grinned, turning to him. There was a pause, and she frowned. “Wait, do I know you?”

“I do not believe we’ve met. I am Adair Russell. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Adair proffered his hand.

She accepted it. “I’m Elizabeth, but you can just call me Liz.” Liz faced Trace, giving the redhead a mischievous look. “I was wondering why you didn’t wanna join us at the Dungeon.  You were too busy hooking up with your boyfriend, weren’t you?”

Trace blinked. Then her face twisted into the ugliest scowl she had ever made.

“He’s not my fucking boyfriend, Liz. He’s the fucking intruder who nearly murdered me a week ago.”

“Oh.” Liz slowly let go of Adair’s hand. Her arms drooped to her sides, edging for her Obsidian Longsword.

Adair paled. “I must insist that you reconsider—”

“You tried to kill my best friend, you bastard!” she shouted. The now level 16 Swordsmaiden unsheathed her weapon, aiming for Adair’s head.

He pointed at the longsword, and it halted midair. Liz narrowed her eyes. She let go of her weapon, throwing a punch instead. Adair raised his arms to block it, but the strike went in between his guard. He yelped and recoiled from the hit, as the Obsidian Longsword clattered to the ground.

Liz’s attack didn’t fully connect. Trace had seen boxing matches, and she knew that it wasn’t a clean punch that struck Adair. Yet, his head bounced back as he fell over. Spinning around, Liz grabbed for her longsword—

And Trace blocked her way. “Alright, that’s enough.”

“He tried to kill you, Trace! Why is he even here? Why—” Liz’s fury bore down on Adair. She’d have killed him if the redhead hadn’t intervened.

“He was helping me with something,” Trace said, glancing over at the man.

He lowered his hand, and flames dissipated from his fingertips. Picking himself up, he gave the redhead a grateful look. She turned back to Liz.

“He wanted to redeem himself and apologise for trying to kill me. It’s fine. He’s fine.”

“And how can you trust him after that?!”

Trace gestured at the can of chilli, rolling to a stop at Adair’s feet. She picked it up. “Because he brought an apology gift.”

Moonlight seeped into the dark corridor from the bedroom windows, illuminating the letters printed on the metal can, and she blinked as she read the words aloud. Her wrath vanished in an instant.

“Oh, thank god. I was starving.” Liz snatched the chilli off Trace’s hand. “Hey, I guess a guy can’t be so bad if he buys you dinner, right?”

Trace snorted. “I didn’t say he wasn’t bad. He’s just not trying to murder me right now.”

“And I probably won’t try to murder you ever again,” Adair said, and the redhead looked over at him. His face was bruised from the single punch. “Not if it means angering her…” he muttered as he rubbed his cheek.

“Liz packs quite the nasty punch, huh?”

“That she does. Why didn’t you intervene sooner, Ms Trace Taylor?”

“Because you deserved that.”

He bit his lower lip. “…perhaps I did.”

It was like he had a brief moment of reflection, and he now felt guilty for his past actions. He stared at the ground, silent. Trace pursed her lips.

“Anyways,” she started and headed back for the stairway, “the kitchen’s a mess right now, so you can just store the rest of the food you have on you in one of the bedrooms.”

“Where are you going, Trace?” Liz asked as she pried open her can of chilli,

“I need to repair the damn door since you decided to slice your way in.”

“Look, it’s not my fault you boarded up the entire doorway. I literally couldn’t squeeze my way in if I tried.”

“That’s the point. I don’t want any damned thing sneaking in and killing us in our sleep.”

“And what could possibly do that?”

“S—”

Before Trace could respond, a shrill sound echoed in the distance. One that the redhead instantly recognised. It was followed by a cacophony of screeches. Monsters that came for the commune once again.

Serpentfiends.

“That,” Trace said. “That’s what I’m worried about.

Killshot Apocalypse 16

The serpentfiends snarled and snapped and slithered and scuttled their way through the streets of the city.

They were wicked creatures, with barbs jutting out of their undulating shapes like broken teeth; their brown and craggy skin let them blend in with the mundane landscape of Liberapolis, especially under the blanket of night. Each serpentfiend varied in size, but these ones were smaller than the serpentfiends Trace fought earlier that day.

That didn’t make them any less dangerous.

Trace Taylor grabbed a hammer off the kitchen counter and dashed for the doorway. She scrambled for what was left of the broken wooden boards, Makeshift Materials telling her exactly what she needed to do to build a barricade with what she had.

“What are you doing, Trace?” Liz asked, frowning.

“We can’t let those fuckers in,” the redhead said. Her heart hammered in her chest harder than the actual hammer in her hand. “They’re fast and deadly and they’ve got a nasty bite. If they get close to us—”

Adair cut her off. “What about the commune?” His eyes flickered, facing northward.

The Evergreen Gun Range was located at the very southern tip of the commune, and it just so happened that the assault of the serpentfiends came from the southeast. The monsters would— at least some of them— try their luck with Trace and Liz.

…Well, Adair was here too, but Trace didn’t really care if anything happened to him or if he did anything at all.

However, she was concerned with his words. She wanted to ignore it, but she heard a scream from outside, and it caused her to hesitate just long enough for Liz to rush out of the broken doorway.

“Nah way, we’re not hiding from those things.” She drew her Obsidian Longsword, shooting Trace a grin.

The redhead didn’t react in time to stop her best friend from charging into the open street. Liz ran straight for the screeching monsters. Two of them were crawling past The Evergreen Gun Range, and she leapt straight into the middle of them. By the time Trace had unholstered her pistol, the monsters were dead.

“That was barely even a challenge. Are they supposed to be dangerous? C’mon, they were barely level 6.”

Liz chuckled, flicking the blood off her black blade. Trace narrowed her eyes.

Level 6? Weren’t the lesser serpentfiends above level 10?

[Affirmative,] Ex confirmed. [However, these are fleeting serpentfiends, an inferior version of a serpentfiend. That is why they are below level 10.]

Well, that explains their size. Still, Trace was wary of them. After all, by the sounds of it, there had to be dozens of them here— maybe even over a hundred.

Their terrible shrieks were grating to the ears like the sounds of bone grinding against a thin metal sheet, filling the night with pain and agony and death. Three blocks down, a woman’s voice cried.

“Help! Someone help—”

And Liz’s gaze snapped. She gestured for Trace to follow, swinging her blade above her head.

“They don’t stand a chance against us. Let’s go!”

The redhead was confident in her best friend, but not stupid enough to believe Liz could take all of them on her own. That drove her forward. Dropping her hammer, Trace raced down the road, gritting her teeth tightly together, and clasping the handle of her gun with both her hands.

“Fuck— wait up!”

Trace whirled around a street corner, pistol already raised and aimed at the first serpentfiend. It cast a long shadow as it scuttled around a fallen burning bin. The spilled flames illuminated a bloody scene— men and women lay dead as Liz stood protectively over a cowering woman, fighting off six serpentfiends at once.

The first serpentfiend crawled over the corpses, opening its mouth wide to reveal rows of spearing teeth. It reached Liz’s legs—

“Don’t you fucking touch her!”

Bang!

It took one shot. The monster collapsed, and Ex notified Trace of her kill.

[You have defeated a Fleeting Serpentfiend – Lvl 7!]

The first serpentfiend’s blood splattered past Liz as she spun around, slicing another of the monsters in half. Maybe it was because they perceived her as a threat, or maybe it was because she was throwing herself straight at them, but they were drawn to her. They might have overwhelmed her. Fortunately for her, Trace was there.

The redhead never would’ve even aimed a pistol close to her best friend just a month ago, even if the safety was on. But now, here she was, firing multiple magically enhanced bullets in the same direction as Liz.

Each shot Trace fired took down a monster. The skins of the fleeting serpentfiends were far weaker than their lesser counterparts. This wasn’t just an observation; Trace could see their weak points with her Vulnerability Vision, and the skill revealed just how defenseless they were. Her Mystic Bullets blasted off large chunks of their flesh and innards all over the pavement as she unloaded her entire magazine to support Liz.

There was a click. Trace reloaded with ease, swapping rounds in one fluid motion. But just as she was about to take another shot, she felt something coarse and bristly graze her feet. Then there was a crack.

A bright light whipped straight for Trace. Her eyes widened as the entire darkened street was briefly lit by the thin streak of lightning. It struck true, erupting into a blinding flash that engulfed the redhead. She stumbled back, her gaze unfocused for a moment.

When her vision returned a second later, she saw the dead monster.

It wasn’t the charred remains of a fleeting serpentfiend: it was far too large in size. Trace gave it one look and she knew it was the higher-levelled lesser serpentfiend instead. Yet, the lightning killed the monster in a single hit. It was a powerful attack— and a familiar one at that. After all, it was once used against the redhead.

Adair Russell jogged up to her, panting slightly. Electricity crackled around the flame hovering right by his head. The fire washed away the shadows, cleaning the area from the nasty darkness that hid the serpentfiends.

“Perhaps you should have left the range with me,” the man said. “Because you would have backup with you, see.”

“Thanks… wait.” Her brows snapped together. “Are you seriously fucking speaking in iambic pentameter right now?”

He scratched his cheek. “Force of habit.”

“Take that!”

A shout from Liz instantly drew Trace’s attention back to the fighting. But when the redhead turned around, there was almost no fighting left for her. The pavement was littered with the corpses of over a dozen fleeting serpentfiends. Only a single monster was left alive, but this one was faster and bigger than the others.

Elizabeth Evergreen swung and missed her final, decisive strike, giving the lesser serpentfiend a chance to fight back. But instead of going for Liz’s legs, it clambered up the sword. It crawled up her arms as she cursed. She wrestled to get it off her, and Trace cursed.

“Shit—”

The redhead moved without thinking. Her barrel aimed straight for the lesser serpentfiend, even as it clung onto Liz’s forearms. A single misfire would kill Trace’s best friend. But before she could even pull the trigger, Liz punched it.

The fist struck across the lesser serpentfiend’s face. Crunch. It had to have broken something of the monster, but that didn’t matter. Because the punch knocked it straight into the fallen bin— into the fire.

The monster shrieked, burning slowly as it writhed wildly and struck the trash can. It clawed at the screaming metal, tearing into it with its spiked legs. The sound unnerved Trace, and it didn’t look like the fire was going to kill it anytime soon, so she shot it.

“Shut. Up.”

And it stopped moving.

Liz crossed her arms. “Yo, what the fuck, Trace? You stole my kill.”

Trace rolled her eyes, ignoring her best friend. Instead, she walked up to the fallen woman. The only survivor of this group that had been warming themselves by the fire. She looked to be in her mid-forties, with fog-light hair. Trace offered her a hand.

“Are you alright?” the redhead asked.

No response. The grey-haired woman was balled up, scratching her heeks, and murmuring madly to herself. “There were so many of them… they came so quickly, I couldn’t even do anything. And Ethan… where’s Ethan?! Where—”

Trace pursed her lips. She didn’t know what to say. Glancing over at Liz— at her averted gaze— she knew her best friend was at a loss for words too.

But someone knew what to say. Adair walked up to the woman, placing a hand on her shoulder. The spilled flames dimmed, weakened by something he was doing. He helped her up without saying a word.

“Ethan… they killed Ethan, just like that— my useless brother. Even though he was useless, I never wished… I never wished…”

She finally trailed off. Her gaze shadowed over as the fire finally dissipated. Adair dusted her off and turned to a nearby building.

“Seek shelter inside,” he said. “It’s safer. Even without heat or electricity.”

The woman nodded, stumbling off without another word.

Trace turned to Adair. “Are we just going to let her go off on her own?”

“There are more serpentfiends out there, Ms Trace Taylor.”

She closed her eyes. Even now, she could hear their screeches echoing in the night. Not as many as before. But still plenty.

“I—”

And shots rained down the streetcorner. A group of serpentfiends fled down the road, barraged by gunfire. A commanding voice bellowed.

“LPD! Chase those damned monsters out of the commune!”

Liz grew alert as Veronica and several other police officers ran down the junction, finishing off their own group of serpentfiends. Jeremy, her partner, paused when he spotted Trace. He tapped on Veronica’s shoulder, even as she shouted.

“Exterminate those godforsaken pests— hm?”

Veronica turned to Trace, raising an eyebrow. Then she took in the scene— the scattered corpses of the serpentfiend covering the pavement like fallen leaves during autumn’s peak. Her gaze settled onto the human bodies before she looked back up.

“Police officers?” Liz looked impressed. “I didn’t think there were any police still around.”

“There’s not too many of us, but we still try our best,” Veronica said as she walked up to them. She turned to Trace with a grateful look, and the redhead shifted uncomfortably.

“Thank you.” Veronica nodded. Then she let out a sigh. “Again. For helping protect our commune.” Pausing, she turned to Adair and Liz. “The same goes for the both of you.”

Liz blinked. “Wait, what commune? I just did this for the experience.”

[You have defeated a Lesser Serpentfiend – Lvl 11!

…

X

* * *

The rest of the serpentfiends fled the commune without putting up much of a fight, much to Liz’s ire. They were monsters, but they were also intelligent enough to know when they’d lost. At least, that was what Trace assumed.

Who knew what went on in the mind of a monster? They were monsters for a reason… except, she didn’t know what a monster even was.

Why were they called monsters and not animals? Why did they have credits hidden in their bodies? How did they have levels? Were they forcefully implanted with femtochips too?

These were all questions she directed to the only expert she knew: her AI, Ex. But as always, he turned up with no proper answers for her. Practically useless.

[I take offence to that.]

“I don’t care.” She didn’t really mean it, but neither did he.

[I am capable of providing basic information about any monsters you have encountered, Trace Taylor. I cannot aid you beyond that.]

“Alright, since that’s the case, can you tell me anything about that Bne Worldeater, Ex? Y’know, the one that did this bullshit to you in the Dungeon?”

[Negative.]

There was a drawn-out moment of silence where Trace was certain he was processing a response. She adjusted a nail as she waited for him. Finally, he spoke.

[As I have informed you the last time you inquired, my knowledge-base on its existence is limited. Protocol dictates that they should be exterminated on sight. Any encounter with them will lead to the same reaction by all artificial intelligence units. Of course, I will gladly remind of this information every time you ask me since you are a proven idiot.]

Trace snorted. “At least I know that I’m an idiot. You’re an idiot in denial. Do we need another Bne Worldeater to help you become self-aware of how of an idiot you are?”

[Even if I am an idiot, at least I am not the one embarrassing myself in front of others by talking to no one.]

“I’m talking to you, and it’s not like they’re paying any attention to me.” The redhead shrugged. She struck the hammer hard against the wooden board, pounding the nail in with that hit.

Taking in her craftwork, she drew back and wiped the beads of sweat off her forehead. It was finally finished. Trace had not only repaired but also reinforced the entryway to The Evergreen Gun Range.

[(G) Quick Hands has reached level 7!

(G) Quick Hands has reached level 8!

(F) Makeshift Materials has reached level 4!

(F) Makeshift Materials has reached level 5!

(F+) Rapid Repair has reached level 6!

(F+) Rapid Repair has reached level 7!

Builder has reached level 6!

Builder has reached level 7!]

Now all she hoped was that she didn’t find it in pieces again tomorrow.

Trace spun around, finally turning her attention to the others. Liz, Adair, Veronica, and her partner, Jeremy, had just finished their conversation. Good timing at that, too.

“Oi, Liz, look what I did—”

“I’m not sure about that whole responsibility thing, sounds like too much for me, for real. But I guess I can do this much.” The Swordsmaiden grinned, slapping Veronica on the shoulder.

Frowning, the redhead walked up to them. “What’s going on?”

Liz shook her head. “Nothing much. Veronica here just asked me to help hunt down the rest of those serpentfiends we just fought.”

“They are dangerous, and it seems like they’ll keep threatening our commune,” Veronica said, pursing her lips. “We need someone strong to deal with them. Especially right now, while we’re at our most vulnerable.”

“Wait, and you agreed to help them?” Trace was aghast, but Liz didn’t seem to mind.

“Sure, why not? All the more experience for me. It’s a win-win, Trace.”

“What if you die?”

“I could always die in a Dungeon too. It makes no difference to me.”

“But at least when you go fighting in a Dungeon, you’re with Ken and Kat and Jakob. You’ll be alone, Liz.”

“Actually,” Adair added from the side, “I’ll be assisting her in her mission.”

“As if I’ll trust you with her life.” Trace glared at him, and he backed up.

“Y-yes, of course.”

The redhead turned back to her best friend. “Are you sure about this?” she asked.

They locked gazes. Liz gave a thumbs-up. “Yep. I know my limits, Trace, and if I get bad vibes from those serpentfiends, you know I’ll nope the fuck outta there.”

Veronica tried to reassure Trace. “I am not sending your friend on a suicide mission. I can promise you, she’s allowed to turn back whenever she wants. I asked Adair to accompany her to help her, not oversee her.”

“…alright.”

Her explanation made sense to the redhead. Veronica was, by all accounts, a good person. Trace trusted her, even if she didn’t fully trust Adair. The problem was the scale of this issue. No one here knew how high-levelled these serpentfiends could go. In a Dungeon, its rank informed those who entered that the monsters within wouldn’t be too powerful. There was a ceiling— a sort of cap to how dangerous they could be to those who entered.

However, considering that the serpentfiends didn’t come from a Dungeon, they could possibly even reach level 50 or 100. It was unlikely, but it was possible.

And that was why Trace was worried.

If this was some random prat throwing themselves into possible death, Trace wouldn’t have cared as much. But Liz was not a stranger. And Trace…

She remembered the scene from just an hour or two ago: the image of the corpses strewn around the spilled flaming bin as the grey-haired woman cried was burned into the redhead’s mind. She also remembered how she felt when she saw the man with his kids this afternoon— it had driven her to act and face the serpentfiends, even when she wanted to run and hide.

And Trace sighed.

Perhaps she cared more about strangers than she thought she did. So much for being self-aware. She couldn’t just stand idly by as her best friend endangered her own life.

“Alright,” Trace Taylor repeated herself. “I’m coming with.”

Her words caught even Liz by surprise.

“You sure, Trace? Have you even fully recovered yet?”

The redhead felt her legs— her strength wasn’t fully restored just yet, and she now had cuts at her ankles from one of the lesser serpentfiends. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not letting you go alone.”

Liz stared at her… and smiled. “I knew you wouldn’t miss out on the fun. We’ll kick their asses together.”

Trace raised her pistol, cocking it.

“That’s right. We’ll fuck those serpentshits up.”

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.

Killshot Apocalypse 18

[Durable Serpentfiend – Lvl 32.]

“I heard you when you said it the first time, Ex.”

[Affirmative.]

Trace Taylor exploded out of a thicket followed by Adair Russell and Elizabeth Evergreen, her party members who accompanied her on this insane mission. Or rather, that wasn’t right: she was the one accompanying them in this insane mission, not vice versa.

The ground trembled. She felt her boots quaking with each step she took. A giant serpentfiend gave chase to her, toppling over trees and crushing the earth, tearing open a path in the jungle that trailed behind the group of three.

Its long and sinuous form had to be over thirty metres in length, at the bare minimum. With a single bite from its gargantuan jaw, it could probably devour Trace whole. She glanced back once at the scuttling monster. The rapid clicks of its feet carried it forward just as much as its own undulating body did. Its legs protruded haphazardly and unevenly, more like spikes than like limbs, even if they could move.

The giant serpentfiend closed in on the party, opening its pit-mouth to reveal the jagged blade-teeth stabbing out of its brim. Trace glanced back at this and cursed.

“Fuck. You!” She fired two shots into the monster.

At its current level, her skill, Vulnerability Vision, let her discern the various weak points of a monster over 20 levels above her. And it told her that shooting into the mouth was moot.

In fact, shooting at it, even with Mystic Bullets, was pointless. Each shot would barely damage the durable serpentfiend. It’d be the equivalent of someone stabbing Trace with a toothpick. Which would still hurt, but the level difference was just too great for her attacks to be able to kill the giant monster. The only reason she still fired was to slow it for just a brief second.

The durable serpentfiend screeched as it swallowed Trace’s bullets. Adair spun around, weaving his hands together, conjuring crackling electricity onto the palm of his hand. A lightning bolt launched out, bouncing around the darkness that was the monster’s mouth.

It reeled back, and Liz decided it was her turn to strike. She twisted back, dashing at the momentarily stunned durable serpentfiend.

Trace fired her remaining rounds to draw its attention while her best friend slashed open its side. The redhead’s eyes flickered. Her attention was drawn towards the bleeding gash left behind by Liz. It was like the rest of the durable serpentfiend’s body was blurred into the background, with that one spot being the focus of the picture. Again, Vulnerability Vision was at work.

“Liz, get back!” she shouted.

Her best friend instantly leaped away from the durable serpentfiend. Trace Taylor aimed and pulled the trigger. A powerful blast shot out of her empty pistol.

Last in the Chamber.

Adair covered his eyes as the bright blue light streaked its way to the giant monster. Trace’s accuracy was on point— she struck the durable serpentfiend where its flesh was tender and weak, already damaged by Liz.

The attack sent the durable serpentfiend lurching away. It let out a cry of intense pain, a deeper screech more akin to a roar than the sounds made by its lesser serpentfiend counterparts. Trace watched as its entire body coiled around itself, covering its bloodied side.

But other than that, it was unhurt.

“Well, fuck.”

The durable serpentfiend lashed out, crashing at Adair and Trace. The redhead grabbed the man before he could be squished. They barely rolled out of the way in time as the monster’s head broke apart the earth, leaving behind a crater where they once stood.

Adair stumbled to his feet, splashing a cone of flames at the durable serpentfiend’s side.

“That’s not going to work,” Trace said as she got back up, reloading her pistol.

“I know.” He spoke through gritted teeth.

The fire barely looked like it hurt the giant monster. It looped back around, nearly hitting Liz was its tail. She knocked the tail back with her own strike, unleashing an aura of silver energy. It drew the durable serpentfiend’s attention to the black-haired Swordsmaiden.

She ran for a grove as Trace gave her covering fire, and Adair split the flames between his two hands. Then the Energy Caster directed his attacks towards the grass and the trees.

Trace furrowed her brows. “What are you doing?”

The pouring flames slowly subsided as the durable serpentfiend lost sight of Liz. It turned to face the remaining two humans. Adair spread his arms wide and tightened his hands into fists. The burning trees and grass flared up, raging wildly even as the durable serpentfiend barrelled towards them.

“I’m causing a distraction,” he said.

“Are you starting a goddamned forest fire?!” Trace stared at him, aghast.

“As I said: a distraction.” Adair grabbed her by the arm. “Now run!”

The pair made a break for it, heading in the same direction they last saw Liz. The durable serpentfiend tried to give chase, but the storm of fire held it back for a few precious moments. The flames didn’t hurt it, per se. It just didn’t like the bright light.

* * *

“Holy fuck.”

Trace and Adair reunited with Liz on a lonely road right at the fringe of the forest. A single house waited at the end of the road, abandoned and empty by the looks of it.

The redhead panted, bent over and clutching her knees; she hadn’t fully recovered from her injuries inflicted by the Bne Worldeater just yet, but was still somehow the least exhausted of the group of three. She looked over her shoulder, seeing the orange glow on the horizon.

The sun had set half an hour ago. The only thing illuminating the night sky was the forest fire Adair had sparked off. The durable serpentfiend was somewhere in that vicinity, probably searching, trying to hunt them down.

“If that thing gets to the city, hundreds of people are going to die.” Trace clenched her fists as the possibility settled in. “Thousands, even.”

“We ain’t gonna stop that thing, Trace,” Liz said, wiping the sweat off her forehead. “None of my skills could even hurt it.”

Adair frowned. “To think that a level 32 monster is that dangerous. I never would’ve suspected it.”

Trace was pretty sure they didn’t even get close to killing the durable serpentfiend. While their attacks— specifically the combination between Trace and Liz— had hurt the giant monster, it was still far from dead. The only attack the redhead had that could damage it proper was her Last in the Chamber, but that skill could only be used once every nine-or-so minutes at its current level.

“We have to return to the commune. Warn the others.” She straightened, getting ready to leave.

“Right now?” Adair looked up at the dark sky. “It’s nighttime, Ms Trace Taylor. Many monsters, like the serpentfiends, are active during these hours. I do not believe it’d be safe for us to trek back now.”

“What are you suggesting, then?”

“Well, there is an empty house right there,” Liz piped up from the side. She gestured vaguely towards the broken fence— at the two-storeyed home with its lights turned out. “We could sleep for the night and return first thing in the morning.”

Trace wanted to protest, but she felt like buckling to her knees there and then. Her legs stung with pain, in desperate need of rest and recovery. However, she was still undecided until she peered into the shadows crawling over the forest.

Anything could be hiding. Even another durable serpentfiend. She didn’t want to be caught off guard when her legs hurt. So, she acquiesced.

“Alright,” she said and shook her head, “but let’s not assume this house is empty. I don’t want to be arrested for breaking and entering like someone here has been.”

Liz chuckled. “I wonder who she could be talking about. Got any ideas, Adair?”

The man flushed and shuffled ahead of the two women. “I assure you both, I will not make such an error in judgement again.”

He knocked on the front door of the house, and there was no response. Trying again, but a bit louder this time, he rapped his knuckles against the wood— and the door collapsed.

“Look at him go, Trace,” Liz said, crossing her arms. “Breaking and entering a stranger’s home again.”

“Going back on your word that quickly, huh?” Trace gave him a disappointed look.

“T-that wasn’t on purpose,” Adair sputtered.

“Sure it wasn’t.” The redhead started past him, stepping over the fallen door. “Anyone home?” she called out.

Again, silence. Shrugging, Trace pressed on, followed by Liz and Adair. She took out a torch, shining it around the hallway, illuminating the stairs and the side passages. The house was a mess, with furniture toppled over and emptied of their contents.

“Looks like whoever lived here left in a hurry.” She raised a brow and took a step into the living room. The couch was flipped over, torn and shredded like someone had pulled its stuffing out by force. “Wait—” And the redhead paused as her torchlight landed on a red stain.

Three bodies lay in the living room. They were piled on top of each other, right next to the broken coffee table.

Trace’s eyes widened as she staggered back. “T-that’s…”

“A dead family.” Liz walked over to the corpses. “Freshly killed. They haven’t even begun decomposing yet.”

“So, less than a day since their deaths,” Adair said as he stepped up next to her.

Trace watched from the back, her lips pursed, and her gaze intently turned away from the bodies. Then something clicked inside of her.

“Fuck.” She grabbed her pistol with trembling hands. “That could mean monsters are hiding in this house.”

“No.” Adair lowered himself to a knee, gently closing the eyes of one of the bodies. “They weren’t killed by monsters. They were killed by people.”

Liz drew away from the bodies. “He’s right, Trace. Look, they’re all stripped of their clothes. And that would explain why everything was ransacked. Some thugs probably broke in and murdered this poor family for their belongings.” She shrugged. “It is the apocalypse, after all.”

“We’ll give them a proper burial tomorrow.” Adair tore down a curtain and draped it over the corpses. He turned around, giving Trace a reassuring look. “For now, let’s rest.”

The redhead took a deep breath and nodded. “Right. Let’s do that.”

* * *

There were only two bedrooms on the second floor. One was a master’s bedroom, and the other was, presumably, a kid’s bedroom. After a short deliberation, the group of three decided that Trace and Liz would sleep in the master’s bedroom, while Adair would sleep in the kid’s bedroom.

The redhead shut the door and locked it as her best friend yawned behind her.

“There’s no need to be so paranoid, Trace,” Liz said, sinking into the large bed. “I’m sure those thugs, whoever they are, are long gone at this point.”

Trace laid her backpack down next to the bed and rummaged through it. She still had a dozen spare magazines. “They’re not the ones I’m worried about.”

“Oh.”

“Also,”— she glared—"stop hogging up the entire bed.”

“Sorry.” Her best friend smirked and rolled out of the way.

She collapsed onto the soft mattress, massaging her legs as Liz spoke up.

“Adair seems like a nice guy. Dude, did you see how he reacted when we teased him earlier? I doubt he’d try to hurt either of us.”

“He tried to kill me,” Trace said bluntly.

“Maybe he’s turned over a new leaf!” Liz waved a hand off dismissively.

The redhead sighed. “I’m not just going to trust him just because he seems to have turned over a new leaf.”

“But he hasn’t tried to kill either of us now. And he’s helping us. I don’t know why he did what he did— maybe he has a dark past or something. Or maybe he was acting out of desperation. I know that if I’m ever backed up against a corner, I’d probably kill a stranger if I have to.”

Liz snuggled under the blanket and glanced over at Trace.

“C’mon. You’ve always been one to hold a grudge. Just forgive and forget. That’s why I have a good relationship with my dad and you don’t.”

“Your dad’s a fucking arsehole. Has he even contacted you once since this whole thing happened?”

“Nope,” Liz replied cheerfully.

Trace rolled her eyes.

“I’m just saying, I’m sure Adair had a reason for acting the way he did back then. Veronica trusts him. And he’s helping out the commune too. I deadass think you’ve gotta cut him some slack.”

That was true; Trace didn’t understand the logic behind Adair’s current actions. When Veronica arrested him, she said he was a dangerous criminal. Now though, she let him wander freely, despite his relatively high levels. But what was even more perplexing was how he chose to put himself at risk for the sake of the commune.

“Maybe you’re right.” The redhead closed her eyes. “I’ll think about it tomorrow, alright? Just let me sleep. I’m fucking exhausted.”

She waited for her best friend to quip or to give some sort of response, but all she heard back was a loud snore.

“Seriously?”

Trace Taylor glanced over Liz who was already noisily asleep. Then she snorted and faced the other direction. Carefree as ever. It was something she admitted she could learn from her best friend. She closed her eyes again, letting sleep take over, and began to drift off, relaxed.

An hour later, she was jolted awake.

The house shook as a shriek could be heard in the distance. Trace scrambled for her weapon at the familiar sound, while Liz was already up and holding her Obsidian Longsword.

“The durable serpentfiend—” Liz started.

And a large shadow passed by the window as she ducked back. Trace huddled under the bed, holding her breath as the giant monster slithered its way past the house. It took half a minute before its long body finished its passing, like a train crossing through a station.

“What’s it doing here?” the redhead asked, getting to her feet.

“I don’t know, but it’s headed down the road. Look.” Liz ushered her over.

Trace watched from the window, her brows creasing as the durable serpentfiend continued north. The forest fire towards the southwest had abated slightly, but it still burned, like a dying ember in an ashened campfire.

“It’s…” The redhead froze, fear gripping her and holding her tongue.

That was the thing with setting the durable serpentfiend’s home ablaze— it wouldn’t get any sleep; it wouldn’t have anywhere to rest; and it wouldn’t be very happy.

It was upset. It was on a rampage. And it was…

Trace worked her jaw. “It’s headed for Liberapolis.”

Killshot Apocalypse 19

“Adair!”

Trace Taylor exploded from the master bedroom, shouting. The man was already standing on the hallway, wearing a grim look on his face.

“I saw,” he said. “It’s going for the commune.”

“We have to stop it.”

“But how are we going to do that?” Liz stepped up from behind the redhead, her face twisted grimly into a frown. “We can’t all possibly catch up to the durable serpentfiend before it reaches Liberapolis.”

“No.” Trace shook her head. “Not all of us.”

Adair’s brows snapped together. He looked over at the redhead, his apprehension evident. “Ms Trace Taylor, surely you’re not intending to go after the level 32 monster all by yourself?”

“I am. I’m the fastest one here— my dexterity is ranked at D. Are either of yours even ranked at E?” Trace fixed them with a dubious look.

They shook their heads.

“Exactly,” the redhead said. “I’m going, and neither of you can stop me.”

“Very well,” Adair acquiesced.

Liz grinned, giving her a thumbs-up. “You’re finna kick its ass, Trace.”

Trace glanced between the pair: an unlikely combination of approval from her best friend and her attempted murderer. Sighing, Trace cocked her pistol.

“…I was expecting you guys to talk me out of it. Now I’ll actually have to do it, won’t I?”

And she gave chase.

The durable serpentfiend was barrelling down the road just ahead. It didn’t so much slither as it crawled and scuttled. Its legs— the odd spikes that poked out of its sides at uneven angles— helped to stabilise it from falling over as much as they propelled it forward.

It was a giant, deformed monstrosity, and Trace was heading straight for it.

Liz and Adair followed her, but they couldn’t keep up. Each step she took brought her closer and closer to the monster, and further and further from her two companions. She raised her pistol, firing potshots even as she sprinted down the tarmac.

It wasn’t well-paved. There were holes and bumps on the road that made it difficult for her to run at her full speed, especially after the durable serpentfiend tore up and damaged the path even further by felling trees and flattening parts of the ground.

The individual bullets barely hurt the monster. Trace’s Vulnerability Vision told her that it was pointless— that the tail of the durable serpentfiend was far too resilient for her to damage. The only way she’d be able to draw its attention was with Last in the Chamber, but even that was debatable.

[Trace Taylor, this action of yours is ill-advised,] a voice said as she stumbled over a fallen branch. [Even with your allies, the possibility of defeating the durable serpentfiend is almost null.]

“That’s a non-zero chance which I’m willing to take.”

[But why risk your life? Were you not hesitant about carrying out this task?]

Trace gritted her teeth. “Oh, shut up. Now’s not the time, Ex.”

Her eyes flickered. The weakest parts of the durable serpentfiend, according to her skill, were its barbed legs. And yet, shooting those wouldn’t kill it.

But it would attract the monster’s attention.

She unloaded an entire magazine, then two. The Mystic Bullets whittled away at the thick, armor-like skin around the base of its leg. Bracing herself, Trace carefully aimed at the now-weakened joint before pulling the trigger.

A beam of light streaked out— a skill that she was quite familiar with using now; it was her most powerful attack in terms of destructive capabilities: Last in the Chamber.

Its blue light lit up the night as it reached the durable serpentfiend. But at the very last moment, the monster swerved. Last in the Chamber missed its mark, instead splintering open the bark of a deciduous tree and sending it crashing down.

Trace blinked, watching as the durable serpentfiend made a sharp turn, going off-road. She ran after it and glanced at where it was headed. Her eyes widened when she saw the city.

No, not a city. A small town to the side of the road.

Houses and shops littered around its fringes, a scattered ring just like the invisible halo surrounding the Gas Giant. And the durable serpentfiend cratering its way to the town was like a deadly meteor rampaging through the vastness of space. It trampled over small buildings, leaving behind a trail of destruction as it headed to the centre of the town. There laid a petrol station, right next to an empty school.

Most of the populace had probably left or were forced to leave, since the town itself was mostly empty too.

Key word: mostly.

“You’ve gotta be—”

Trace cursed as she heard screams erupt from the town. Cries that echoed with the same fear and terror as just a night before. There were maybe a few dozen— a hundred at most— people in the town, and the durable serpentfiend was going to kill them all.

There was a moment of hesitation where the redhead slowed her pace. She glanced back. Liz and Adair were still far behind her. Gritting her teeth, she further resolved herself to action.

“Oi, serpentshit!” she shouted, firing more shots into the monster’s side.

The bullets scratched its skin, leaving tiny marks and dents that Trace knew barely bothered it. Still, she fired. There was nothing else she could do. It’d been no more than five minutes since she last used Last in the Chamber. Screaming and shooting was her only option.

It didn’t work.

The durable serpentfiend crushed a house, sending a horrified family running out of the back door. The monster gave chase, its winding body collapsing the rest of the garage as it made a turn.

A mother carried a child as she craned her body, raising her hands, conjuring a single shard of ice and hurling it at the durable serpentfiend. The magical attack shattered, doing no damage to the giant monster.

“Fuck, fuck, f—”

Trace could only follow a step— a very big step— behind the durable serpentfiend. It loomed over the family as they were cornered by the side of a three-storeyed building. There were four of them. A father, a little girl, and the mother with the child. They cowered and quivered in fear, accepting their fate as the durable serpentfiend opened its wicked maw.

There was still four minutes before Trace could use Last in the Chamber; her mind raced with her body, trying to come up with a way to save the family. And her eyes flickered. She laid her gaze on the petrol station just a few hundred metres to her left, vacant and deserted.

An idea bore fruit in her mind. It could’ve been a good place to trap the durable serpentfiend and kill it, but that’d only be after the family died. So, instead, Trace snapped her hands towards the petrol station, using Rapid Fire to unload on the fuel tanks.

After all, serpentfiend’s hated bright lights, right?

An explosion rocked the town as flames spewed up at the heavens themselves. A dimmed-blood tide of fumes spilled into the air as a second, smaller blast erupted from the petrol station, causing Trace to stumble.

The slight tremor drew the durable serpentfiend’s attention. It screeched, facing the warm glow blanketing over its body in utter revulsion. And during that brief respite, the family took their chance to run.

They scurried around the massive body of the monster, fleeing into a building as Trace finally caught up. She froze as the intensity of the heat from the explosion lessened. The durable serpentfiend slowly looked her way.

Adrenaline had kept Trace going all this time. But now that the durable serpentfiend turned its attention to her, the boiling pressure within her subsided, and she could feel the icy touch of death poking at her back like chilled pinpricks stabbing into her spine.

“Erm… hi?” She waved.

The durable serpentfiend roared, and Trace backed up. Round after round rang out as she ran back and reloaded, but the monster cascaded after her, a deluge of rage and anger directed at her and no one else. Three minutes. Three minutes before she could use her trump card.

But would that even work?

It wouldn’t. It could probably hurt the durable serpentfiend, but it definitely wouldn’t kill it. Trace couldn’t rely on her skills alone to win; she had to wait for Liz and Adair to arrive. They’d been trailing behind by quite a bit. The redhead wouldn’t be surprised if it’d take them another five minutes to finally reach her.

Now, the problem was, could Trace survive five minutes?

She ran back in a straight line, firing into the maw of the durable serpentfiend. It bore down on her, screeching, salivating, and snapping at the redhead. Each Mystic Bullet only served to annoy it even further. And eventually, Trace found her back pressed up against a wall.

The durable serpentfiend clawed over the tarmac road, shredding bits of tar into the air as it headed towards Trace. She watched how its body made undulating motions, moving slowly with only its crawling body, only to be propelled faster by each clicking step it made with its spiked legs. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to load another magazine into her pistol.

It reached her a moment after. It would’ve crushed Trace— gobbled her up in a single chomp as she was distractedly reloading her weapon. But the redhead dropped her weapon, and at the very last moment, she leapt to the side.

She rolled into a stumble as she raised her right arm, a flash of aether bringing her pistol back into her hand. Recall Weapon. Spinning around, she clicked the magazine into the pistol’s grip and aimed at the durable serpentfiend. The monster crashed into a small building, toppling it over as she fired more shots at it.

“Come on, Liz, Adair—” Where were they? She couldn’t take it on by herself. Trace needed backup before she made a deadly mistake.

The giant monster whipped around as the building collapsed into a pile of rubble and dust. Its long tail almost struck Trace, but she managed to hop back before it could graze her. But just as she landed on the balls of her feet, she… fell. Yes, she felt a stinging pain pierce its way up her legs as she grimaced, crumpling to the ground.

That was the thing: Trace Taylor had yet to fully recover from the Bne Worldeater. So, her legs gave out.

“Motherfu—”

She tried to pick herself up, but her legs wobbled and failed her. The durable serpentfiend came for Trace once more as she struggled to even get up on one knee. Her eyes snapped shut as she unloaded all her bullets at the giant monster with Quick Fire, before pulling the trigger once it was emptied, hoping that enough time had passed.

Click.

Even with her gunshots ringing in her ear— even with buildings collapsing in the background— Trace heard the death-quiet smash of the hammering of an empty pistol. She sighed. And her ears perked up as she picked up another sound.

It sounded like a soft buzzing at first, but as it grew louder and louder, Trace realised that it was a melody. A mumbling of hip-hop that jumped out amongst the overbearing destruction permeating the air. It rolled closer to her with a whirring engine pumping out gas and the turning of rubber tires on tar. And right as the song reached its crescendo, a truck flew into the air, with its passengers yelling.

“Fuck the police comin' straight from the underg—”

“WOOOOOOH!”

“Hell yeah! Fuck you!”

Three individuals rode in the truck. One sat at the front, driving, while the other two were standing on the cargo bed at the back. The driver had his windows rolled down, blaring rap music as he pumped a fist.

“Yo, over here, ugly!”

He drove between the durable serpentfiend and Trace, drawing the monster’s attention. As it turned its body to face the truck, he stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled.

“Get ‘em, boys!”

A flurry of barks followed. Trace glanced back, seeing a pack of dogs yapping and bounding towards the durable serpentfiend. They were all mutts— mixed breeds with no discernible features. And as they drew closer towards their target, their forms changed. They doubled in size as their fur seemed to almost shrink into their bodies. Their bodies almost seemed bloated with muscle, adopting monster-like features like sharper claws and more crooked teeth.

There were six dogs, and the leader of the pack was the largest. The durable serpentfiend brought down its head to crush them, but the lead dog hopped out of the way, and the others followed in time. They proceeded to pile onto the side of the durable serpentfiend, tearing into its hard skin, biting and barking as it reeled back.

The truck drove back towards the giant monster, and the two people at its back— a girl with a sledgehammer and a guy wearing a hoodie— leapt off to support the dogs. The guy with a hoodie landed on the ground, slamming a fist into the earth.

“Jackie!”

“On it!”

A concrete pillar shot up, propelling the girl with the sledgehammer into the air. She flipped and twisted and used the momentum to smash her hammer into the back of the durable serpentfiend’s head. It actually rocked the monster, eliciting a pained roar.

Trace blinked as the girl landed lithely on her toes while the dogs continued to ravage the monster’s side.

“Erm…” she trailed.

“Those three sure know how to make an entrance, huh?” a voice said.

The redhead looked up, and a brown-haired man stood over her. “…who are you?”

“The name’s Sam.” He grinned and proffered her a hand. “We’re here to help.”

“Thanks.” She accepted his help and stumbled to her feet. Trace tried to stand on her own, but she grunted and nearly fell back down.

Sam steadied her. “Woah, woah, woah. Don’t push yourself. Here, I’ll help.” He slung her arm around his shoulder as she grimaced.

“I—” Another voice interrupted the redhead before she could speak. This time, it was a more familiar person who called out.

“Trace!” Liz ran up to her, panting. “Are you alright? Are you? …” She glanced at Sam, then at the truck in the distance, leading the durable serpentfiend on. “Who the heck are these guys?”

“I… really am not sure.”

“We’re friends,” Sam said, turning to face Liz. “And the ones who’ll take that monster down,” he added with a wink.

The durable serpentfiend spun around, its tail grazing the side of the truck, knocking the vehicle over as it tried to swerve out of the way. The driver kicked the door open and leapt out before the durable serpentfiend crushed it with its mouth.

Liz crossed her arms. “Nice job. You guys really showed it what metal tastes like.”

“That… was just bad timing, alright?” Sam scratched the back of his head.

The girl with the sledgehammer dashed away from the durable serpentfiend as it continued to chomp into the truck. She raised her arms and faced the driver. “Yo, what tha fuck, Nathan? That’s goin’ ta cost us a few grand!”

“Bro, that wasn’t even our truck,” Nathan, the driver, protested. “We stole it, Jackie, remember?”

Jackie tilted her head back. “Oh, yer right.”

“I think a more appropriate term is borrowed,” the last of the group— the guy with the hoodie—corrected them.

“Fuck off, Darius,” Jackie and Nathan said in unison.

As the three of them exchanged their quips, the durable serpentfiend wriggled, shaking the pack of dogs off its body. Nathan’s eyes widened and he cried out.

“You bastard!”

The durable serpentfiend roared back at him, and he paled.

“…you win.”

“Ms Trace Taylor.”

The redhead craned her neck back, spotting Adair right as he finally arrived. His eyes narrowed as he took in the four strangers; Sam met his gaze, grinning.

Adair then shook his head, facing Trace. “It appears that you have survived. It may be best for us to flee now, while we still can.”

“We have help, now.” She shook her head, pushing off Sam. Steeling herself, she managed to stagger onto her own two feet. “We’re not running.”

The durable serpentfiend rose up above the houses, taking in the group of seven. With a terrible screech, it drew back down and tore forward after them.

[Affirmative,] Ex agreed. [Now that you have reinforcements, you can all die together.]

Trace’s eyes flickered. She saw the destruction left behind by the giant monster. She heard the cries and the screams and the whimperings of the few families that remained in the small town. And she knew what she had to do.

“No,” she said, defiant. “We’ll stop it here and now.”

Killshot Apocalypse 20

Trace Taylor’s defiance was met by a chill-boned screech from the durable serpentfiend. It loomed over the group of seven, standing as tall as a five-storeyed building, its worm-like body barbed in spindly legs haphazardly strewn all around its coarse sides.

The redhead short speech had drawn the attention of the four strangers. Sam, the man who’d helped her up, wore a dubious look on his face. He scratched his dirty-brown hair like he was trying to scrape the dust off it.

“Honestly, we came here to help,” he said hesitantly, “but I don’t think this is a battle we can win.”

“You can run.” Trace stepped forward as the durable serpentfiend readied to charge. Her eyes flickered. Enough time had passed now, so she raised her gun and pulled the trigger. “I won’t, though. Because I’m not a fucking wuss.”

Last in the Chamber.

A powerful blast echoed as the magical bullet shot out. The bang hit Trace like a wave, washing over her as she stumbled back. The blue streak shone brightly as a shooting star would, filling the vast ocean-sky with its azure light. The attack reached the durable serpentfiend—

And the monster moved.

The skill splashed across the skin of the giant monster, right by the base of one of its limbs. The durable serpentfiend reeled back as a small gash marked its body but was otherwise unhurt.

“Fuck!” Trace lowered her gun. “I missed.”

“Good job, asshole,” a voice said. It was one of the three idiots who rode in on the truck. Nathan, Jackie, or Darius. Trace glared their way, and they all pointed at each other.

Trace rolled her eyes. “Now I have to wait another bloody eight or nine—”

The durable serpentfiend came crashing down. It swept its entire body over the landscape, smashing through a small house, ruining the front yard, before crushing its way to the group of seven. Trace staggered back, and a hand yanked her out of the way just in time.

Sam grabbed her as he sprinted away from the oncoming durable serpentfiend. It sent a wall of dust and debris pillaring up, shrouding the battlefield momentarily. Coughing, the redhead found herself knelt next to the brown-haired man as he stood over her. She looked up in panic.

“Liz!” she called out as the dust settled.

“Over here,” a carefree voice responded. Elizabeth Evergreen stood right by the destruction left behind by the durable serpentfiend, barely avoiding it. She wiped at her brows, whistling. “Woah, that’s a lotta damage. Is this what a real boss monster is supposed to be like?”

“It’s not a boss monster,” Adair returned, dusting himself off behind the sable-tressed woman. “It is merely an evolved form of a serpentfiend. You may even inquire your own AIs.” He clapped his hands together, and crackling electricity danced around him. It sparked out, tickling the side of the giant monster.

Is that true, Ex? Trace asked, frowning as the durable serpentfiend roared once more.

[Affirmative], the AI said. [A durable serpentfiend is not classified as a boss monster. Killing it will not grant additional experience as killing a boss monster would. However, since it is far above your level, you will still be awarded with a bountiful amount of experience.]

The redhead reloaded her pistol as she got back up. With a click, Trace cocked her gun and faced the battlefield. So, its only advantage is its levels. She turned to her allies. And what are our levels, Ex?

Around her, the fighting resumed. Liz darted forward, circling the durable serpentfiend as Adair raised a curtain of flames.

[Swordsmaiden – Lvl 17

Energy Caster – Lvl 16.]

Sam pulled out a bow and arrow and began to loose bolts at the giant monster.

[Rapid Ranger – Lvl 11.]

The remaining three people on the battlefield— Nathan, Darius, and Jackie— emerged from a crater on the ground.

[Beast Tamer – Lvl 15

Geomancer – Lvl 16

Hammer Warrior – Lvl 15.]

Darius must’ve created a quick pitfall to help them escape under the durable serpentfiend’s sweeping attack. Nathan barked an order at his dogs, “Major! Distract it!” and the deformed animals complied. Jackie ran alongside the pack, raising her sledgehammer.

Trace pursed her lips as she watched the group hopelessly attack the durable serpentfiend. They ebbed away at its tough exterior, but its outer skin was too thick. It’d take an hour or more to finally tear through to its fleshier insides, and with each deluging attack by the giant monster being strong enough to wipe out the group in an instant, the redhead understood one simple fact.

“We’re not going to beat it,” Trace said. “Not like this.”

Sam glanced back at her, furrowing his brows. “Did you already change your mind?”

“No.” She grabbed him by the shoulder. “We’re not working together. We’re a bloody mess— and we’ll be nothing more than a bloody mess on the road— if we don’t cooperate.”

He nocked an arrow and paused. Looking over at his three friends, he watched as they avoided the maw of the durable serpentfiend as it chomped on a bit of the pavement. Jackie slammed her hammer at its side, Darius sent a large stone spike into its mouth, and Nathan’s dogs spread out wide around it.

Liz stabbed deep into its tail as Adair unleashed another lightning bolt. The durable serpentfiend recoiled.

“I don’t know,”— Sam released the taut bowstring— “I think we could actually take it down.”

“All you’re doing is annoying it. Maybe even confusing it.” Trace pointed at the durable serpentfiend as it screeched. “You’ve barely hurt it. Trust me, I know.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Vulnerability Vision— it’s a skill I have.” Taking a deep breath, she started past Sam. “It basically lets me see which parts of a creature is vulnerable. And I’m telling you, those wounds it’s sustaining don’t look that vulnerable to me. At least, as they are right now.”

Sam looked dubious, but he shrugged. “Then what should we do?”

“First of all,” she said, turning her gaze to Liz. “We’ll have to lead it out of the town.”

Her bestfriend was the highest-levelled and the one who seemed to be hurting the durable serpentfiend the most.

“Oi, Liz!” Trace shouted, and the Swordsmaiden spun around.

“Yeah?”

“Lead it to me!”

“Got it!”

Liz flipped in the air, slashing the side of the durable serpentfiend with her vytal-lit blade. Her translucent aura of silver dug deep into the giant monster, hurting it more than the cone of fie Adair was unleashing at its back. She flipped off it, facing the Energy Caster.

“Focus your flames at its back. We want to lure it to Trace!”

Adair nodded, raising his arms as sparks rose from the earth like a thousand chittering birds, combusting into a single singing sheet of flames. He didn’t use it to harm the durable serpentfiend, but instead to urge it in Trace’s direction.

The redhead herself made a break for it, heading for the town’s peripheries. Liz trailed behind as the durable serpentfiend followed in tow. Sam leapt out of the way— his friends rushing to his side. One of them, Darius, crossed his arms.

“What are they doing? They’re letting it escape!”

“No—” Sam started, but the other man was already moving.

The Geomancer raised a palm towards the sky as another stone spike was built from the debris around him. He tossed at the durable serpentfiend, drawing its attention. It didn’t so much as glance at him, but it knew where he was. And it whipped around.

Darius’ eyes grew wide as the durable serpentfiend struck its tail down at him. He raised a wall of stone, but it shattered from the hit. He was knocked flying into the air, screaming in excruciating pain before flopping back on the ground.

Jackie dropped her hammer and ran for his limp body. “Darius!”

Trace hesitated for a second when she saw what happened. However, something flickered in her vision. She saw how fragile Darius’ body currently was— she saw the damaged he’d sustained and how easily his bones could break at his current state— and she saw that he was still alive. It was only possible thanks to Vulnerability Vision; the redhead could tell how easily she’d be able to kill him as he was, which meant that he wasn’t dead just yet.

So, she ran.

Her best friend accompanied her, taunting the durable serpentfiend. It was slowed as it scuttled through small buildings and houses. Fortunately, they were empty. Or at least, Trace hoped they were.

The durable serpentfiend gradually caught up to the pair, but by the time it happened, they were way clear of the town. The redhead spun around to face Liz.

“We have to—”

“Sorrycan’ttalkbeingchased—”

Trace blinked as she watched her best friend continue on, running from the durable serpentfiend as it snapped at her heels. It nearly slammed into the redhead with its long and winding body, but she hopped out of the way right as it passed. She felt a brush of wind accompanying the brush with death as it missed her. But there was nor reprieve as she moved to save her best friend.

Liz wasn’t fast enough to escape the giant monster for long. So, Trace acted. She aimed once again. For the same target she previously missed. This time, she took in a deep breath and waited before firing. The durable serpentfiend wove around the trees, chasing after Liz, making it a difficult target to hit. And right the Swordsmaiden made a sharp turn, it also turned, but slower.

At that moment, Trace closed her eyes and yanked out her magazine. She squeezed the trigger, hoping for the best.

Bang!

It worked. Again, Last in the Chamber shot out. But this time, it didn’t miss. It hit its mark. No, she didn’t just shoot at the side of the durable serpentfiend— she hit it where she’d actually be able to inflict some damage: at the base of its crooked limb.

It was the same one she’d shot at earlier, when she was chasing the durable serpentfiend down. It’d already been whittled at, damaged slightly, letting the powerful force of the Last in the Chamber shave it clean off. The leg went flying as its blood spewed out of the wound.

The durable serpentfiend jerked back. It let out a screech in pain before stumbling forward, having lost one of the limbs carrying it. Its terrible maw turned to face Trace as Liz managed to escape into a thicket of trees.

“Did you see that?” the redhead shouted, waving her hands in the air.

Adair, Sam, and Nathan looked her way. She pointed at the fallen leg of the durable serpentfiend, continuing.

“Aim for its legs!” She inserted the magazine back into her pistol, firing at another of the barbed legs. “They’re one of its weakest body parts so they break off easily. That’s not enough to kill it, but we’ll be able to slow it down.”

The durable serpentfiend charged at her. But Liz leapt out of the trees, slicing off a weakened leg with her Obsidian Longsword. She kicked off the giant monster, turning to the others.

“You heard her. Well, what are you waiting for?” A powerful aura gathered around her weapon as she moved to strike the durable serpentfiend once more. “C’mon!”

The others were apprehensive— maybe even dubious— but they couldn’t bring themselves to stay back as Liz jumped into the fray alone. They moved, joining her. Not directly, of course. Only from a distance.

Nathan used his dogs. He turned to the leader of his pack. “Major,” he said, bending over and scratching the back of its ear. “I need ya to do me a favour and nibble on that thing’s legs, alright?”

The lead dog, Major, growled in response and bounded for the durable serpentfiend. The pack passed Adair as he sent out streaks of flames from his fingertips. They joined Liz as she crawled on the thrashing monster’s back, cutting away at its legs.

Trace unloaded at a leg that her best friend proceeded to shear off before taking a step back. She reloaded her pistol as she turned to Sam. “Aren’t you going to help?”

“I am.” Nodding, he reached into his quiver. “We’re trying to restrict its movements, right?”

“Yeah. You’ve got a skill that can tear off a leg?”

“Nope. My class isn’t really good for causing damage.”

The redhead cocked a brow. “Then how’re you going to do slow it down?”

Sam grinned. “Did you think I was just an archer?” He pulled out an arrow that blinked with a red light at its tip. “I’m also a level 14 Magitechnician. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

He loosed the arrow, and it soared through the sky. It landed on the tail of durable serpentfiend before exploding into a web of sticky paste.

“An extract of magically-enhanced superglue. Pretty impressive stuff, right?”

The giant monster’s wild movements seemed to unwillingly relax. It tried to whip its tail around, but it looked more like it was dragging a heavy burden with it as it turned. Even still, it managed to knock Liz away into a tree.

“Oof!” She landed with a grunt, rolling backwards over the splinters. “Avoiding its attacks is hard. Can I get a little help, please?” she shouted as she rushed back into the battle.

“We need someone else to back up Liz and the dogs,” Trace said, gritting her teeth. She glanced over towards the town, spotting Jackie helping a limping Darius up. “Oi, we need your help! Grab your maul and get your arse over here!”

“But he’s dyin’!” Jackie protested.

“He’ll be fine!” Trace yelled as she fired more Mystic Bullets at the durable serpentfiend. “But he may not be if this bloody monster kills us all!”

“Urgh, fine.” Laying Darius against a wall, Jackie grabbed her sledgehammer and ran in to join the fighting. She slammed her weapon at the same leg Trace was shooting at, breaking it off with a loud crack. “Are ye happy now?”

“Just keep doing that!”

Liz, Jackie, and the dogs engaged it up close, while Adair was in medium-range, using his flames and lighting to divert its attention. Trace shouted orders from the back, firing at the durable serpentfiend alongside Sam. He loosed a few explosive arrows which drew its ire more than once.

The durable serpentfiend targetted the two of them, and the exhausted redhead found herself stumbling away without her pistol a few times. However, a simple Recall Weapon brought her pistol back to her before she continued her assault of Mystic Bullets and the occasional Last in the Chambers.

The attacks continued from all sides as the durable serpentfiend’s movements grew slower and slower. Most of its legs were gone, and it was noticeably more sluggish. Literally. It didn’t have any limbs to push it as it crawled, so it was moving like a worm would, using mostly its undulating body. It realised what was going on. And it began to panic.

It tried to escape— to flee from the group of six. It turned tails and stumbled-scuttled-slithered away as Trace’s brows snapped together.

“Don’t let it get close to the town!”

Adair sliced a thin line of flames between the monster and the town. The light was enough to send the confused durable serpentfiend back in the direction of the group of six. It only had two legs now, each one on either sides of its bodies.

Trace raised her pistol as she ran out of ammo, while Liz dashed forward with a glowing blade. They both shouted.

“Take this!”

They struck at the two separate legs at the same time, breaking them. Liz with her vytal-coated blade, and Trace with her aether-created bullet. The barbed limbs shattered with a crack, flying and landing together with the collapsing durable serpentfiend.

It wriggled on the ground without legs like a worm. It didn’t even try to fight back anymore. It just tried to crawl away as it was incessantly attacked from all sides. The group of six didn’t let up, focusing their skills and magic on one single point on its body.

At some point, Darius returned to the battlefield, helping them tear through the skin and innards of the durable serpentfiend. It crawled forward slowly as they kept up with it, until eventually—

[You have defeated a Durable Serpentfiend – Lvl 32!

(F+) Magically Enhanced Accuracy has reached level 7!

(F+) Magically Enhanced Accuracy has reached level 8!

(F+) Magically Enhanced Accuracy has reached level 9!

(F+) Magically Enhanced Accuracy has reached level 10!

(F+) Magically Enhanced Accuracy has reached level 11!

(F+) Magically Enhanced Accuracy has reached level 12!

(F+) Magically Enhanced Accuracy has reached level 13!

(E-) Quick Fire has reached level 5!

(E-) Quick Fire has reached level 6!

(E-) Quick Fire has reached level 7!

(E-) Quick Fire has reached level 8!

(E-) Quick Fire has reached level 9!

(E) Recall Weapon level 6!

(E) Recall Weapon level 7!

(E) Recall Weapon level 8!

(E+) Vulnerability Vision has reached level 6!

(E+) Vulnerability Vision has reached level 7!

(E+) Vulnerability Vision has reached level 8!

(E+) Vulnerability Vision has reached level 9!

(E+) Vulnerability Vision has reached level 10!

(E+) Last in the Chamber has reached level 6!

(E+) Last in the Chamber has reached level 7!

(E+) Last in the Chamber has reached level 8!

(E+) Last in the Chamber has reached level 9!

(D-) Mystic Bullets has reached level 5!

(D-) Mystic Bullets has reached level 6!

(D-) Mystic Bullets has reached level 7!

(D-) Mystic Bullets has reached level 8!

Adept Spellshot has reached level 15!

Adept Spellshot has reached level 16!

Adept Spellshot has reached level 17!

Adept Spellshot has reached level 18!]

“That’s a lot of levels.” Sighing, Trace leant against a fallen tree as her sweat wetted its broken bark.

[Affirmative. These are all the levels you’ve gained since leaving on this journey to exterminate the serpentfiends.]

“Didn’t I ask you to chill with the notifications a while back?”

[I was not aware that you meant for that to be a permanent change, Trace Taylor,] Ex said. [Also, I thought it would be funnier since I knew it’d annoy you.]

“Well, please… just piss off. I’m too tired for this.”

The redhead peeled herself off her own sticky stain and turned to Sam and his friends. They were tending to Darius’ wounds, talking amongst themselves. She approached them, smiling, only for a hand to grab her from behind.

“Ms Trace Taylor,” Adair said, shaking his head. “Don’t…”

She gave him a confused look. “I was just going to thank them.”

“I—” he started, but Sam cut him off.

“It’s no problem at all!” Sauntering up to Trace, Sam smirked. “So, your name’s Trace Taylor, huh? Pretty cool. I love the alliteration.”

Trace blinked. “O-oh, thanks? It’s just what my parents named me.”

“They sound like awesome people. I’d love to meet them one day.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line, suppressing a retort. They’re really not, she mentally said. The redhead shook away the thought and nodded gratefully at him. “You saved my life. Seriously, thank you.”

“It’s no problem at all. That’s just what we do.” Sam waved a hand off. Then he tilted his head back. “Or actually, that’s what our group does.”

“Your group?”

“Your friend over there knows what we’re talking about.” He gestured past Trace.

Liz cocked her head, pointing at herself. “Wait, I do?”

“No, not you,” he snorted. “Him.”

Adair stood off to the side, warily staring at Sam and his group. Sam spread his arms wide.

“Come on, Adair the Great. Don’t be a stranger. Introduce us.”

Jackie raised a fist. “Yeah! Don’t pretend we ain’tcha friends.”

Trace turned to Adair, narrowing her eyes. “What are they talking about? Who are they, Adair?”

He hesitated. But her gaze bore into him, and he let out a tired breath. Shutting his eyes, he spoke slowly.

“Samuel Diaz, Jacqueline Wright, Darius Fernandez, and Nathan Johnson. These four individuals are former allies of mine,” Adair said, his eyes snapping from one to another as they faced him. He paused as he turned to Trace.

She crossed her arms. “And?”

“And…”

Adair sighed.

“Current members of the Precursors of Peace.”

Killshot Apocalypse 21

Name: Trace Taylor

Race: Human (Earth A314)

Class: Adept Spellshot – Lvl 18

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 13
(E-) Quick Fire – Lvl 9
(E) Recall Weapon – Lvl 8
(E+) Vulnerability Vision – Lvl 10
(E+) Last in the Chamber – Lvl 9
(D-) Mystic Bullets – Lvl 8

Vocation Skills:
(G) Quick Hands – Lvl 8
(F) Makeshift Materials – Lvl 5
(F+) Rapid Repair – Lvl 7

Trace Taylor checked her status as she took up a defensive stance. Most of her skills had levelled, and while she’d like to evaluate the advantages of their new levels, she was too preoccupied preparing herself for a fight. After all, four individuals stood before her. Sam, Nathan, Jackie, and Darius. And they were—

“Wait, what the fuck. We’ve been fighting alongside terrorists?”

“We’re not terrorists.” Darius gave her a hurt look. Like, he was actually physically hurt from the battle. He probably broke half of the bones in his body from being crushed by the durable serpentfiend. But he also seemed offended. “We’re members of the Precursors of Peace!”

“That’s what a terrorist would say.” Trace crossed her arms.

Jackie shrugged. “She’s got a point, ya know? Yer kinda shady, Darius.”

“Pretty sus,” Liz said, nodding nonchalantly.

The redhead reached for her gun, eyeing the Precursors of Peace warily. Trace, Liz, and Adair stood on one side, while Sam, Jackie, Darius, and Nathan stood across from them.

A tense second passed as a cool breeze blew over the group of seven. It swept up fallen leaves scattering into the air as a dull, monotonous note of silence dragged out the moment. The crescendo of battle had come to an end, but the potential of a new fight drummed up as Trace shifted with a soft memory.

Three bodies lay in the living room. They were piled on top of each other, right next to the broken coffee table—

“You were the ones who killed that family, weren’t you?” Trace’s brows tightened like her grip around her pistol. “That’s how you got that truck. You stole it after murdering them and ransacking their home!”

The Precursors of Peace exchanged confused looks. Nathan spoke up.

“Uh, bro, we don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, we din’t murder no one!” Jackie insisted.

Trace narrowed her eyes. “Then how’d you steal that truck?”

“By… literally stealing it?” Nathan shook his head. “Like, how else do you steal a truck?”

“You know, he’s got a point.” Liz brought her hands up as Trace glared. “I’m on your side! I just think that what he said is fair— even if it’s super sus.”

“It is incredibly suspicious,” the redhead said. “Do you expect me to believe that you’re unrelated to the ransacked house just a few miles south of here?”

“Yes,” Nathan, Darius, and Jackie chorused.

Trace’s eyes twitched. Finally, Sam decided to speak.

“Look,”— Sam stepped forward— “we have no quarrel with you, Trace. And we certainly have no quarrel with strangers. If we did hurt someone, it’d be because they attacked us first, not because we wanted to steal from them. The only person in a ten-mile radius we even have a problem with would be that man over there.”

Trace glanced back and furrowed her brows. “Adair?”

“That guy, yep. Adair Russell. Or Adair the Great. Whatever you want to call him.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“We’ve been searching for him,” Sam said. “Adair is a former member of the Precursors of Peace. A prominent member, actually. Our leader sent us to find him and bring him in.”

She frowned. “Bring him in?”

“Just for a talk.”

“Is it a talk, Samuel? Or could it perhaps be something more malicious?” For the first time since introducing the Precursors of Peace, Adair spoke up. He’d been almost isolated— hidden behind Trace and Liz, remaining silent and alone. Now though, his gaze bore into Sam. “I know how your organisation functions. Do not pretend I would walk away from that conversation unscathed.”

There was a pause. A skipped beat. Trace’s gaze snapped between Adair and Sam— the animosity between the two was clear. They edged closer and closer to each other as the friction between them began to spark. The redhead saw a glint coming from the Energy Caster’s fingertips, recognizing the gathering of aether as the other man reached for his bow—

“That’s enough,” she said, stepping in front of the two. “We’re not going to be fighting each other. Not now when we’re all tired from killing that durable serpentfiend.”

Adair paused as the aether around him vanished, but Sam still held onto his bow. “You have a problem with murderers, don’t you, Trace?” he asked in an amused tone.

“I do, yeah.”

“Then why are you defending that man? He’s a killer. You shouldn’t even let him face your back— I’d imagine he’d take any chance he can get to betray you like he did with us.”

Trace glanced at Adair as he stood behind her. “He… did try to kill me before,” she started, and he averted his gaze.

Yet, she thought about the events of the past few days. There were many opportunities where he could’ve killed both her and Liz and ran off, but he didn’t. Even with the durable serpentfiend, he risked his life fighting it until they won. Trace’s stubbornness fought with her logic for a moment, and one of them won.

Shaking her head, she turned back to Sam. “However, that was only when we first met. Which was, yes, a bad first impression. But since then, Adair has proven himself to be more trustworthy than not. So, I don’t think he’d do that. Not now, at least.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed. He pulled out his bow. “Maybe you’re fine with him, but we aren’t.”

Adair tensed, and she stared at him.

“Step out of the way, Trace,” Sam said as he nocked an arrow. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“What’re you doing?”

“I told you. We were sent here to find him.”

The redhead watched the bowstring stretch as the Precursors of Peace prepared themselves for battle. Adair was level 18 now— the same as Jackie— while the others were lower-levelled, but it was still four against one. He would lose.

He knew he’d lose. Trace could see it on his face. So, she sighed.

“I’m not going to let you do that.”

Sam’s expression changed to that of confusion. “Excuse me?”

“I said: piss off.” She cocked her pistol, not yet raising it.

“We saved your life, Trace. Are you seriously going to fight us now, over him? When did you even meet him?”

“About a week and a half ago, and yes,” she said, nodding at Liz. “We’re not letting you take him.”

Her best friend shrugged and joined her. “You heard the lady. Shoo.”

Trace relaxed a little, glad that she had support. “And while you guys did save my life, I don’t know anything else about the four of you other than you’re with the Precursors of Peace. It’s your word versus his word. Unfortunately, I trust him more.”

The four Precursors of Peace looked at each other uneasily. But Trace and Liz didn’t back down. Even though it looked like a fight was going to break out, for real this time. Jackie reached for her hammer as Darius forced himself to stand by himself. The pack of dogs encroached on the group, and Nathan opened his mouth—

But Sam nodded.

“Very well.” He lowered his bow and put away his arrow. “If that’s how it is, I guess we’ll back down.”

“But Sam—” Jackie started, and he shook his head.

“We just told them we weren’t bad people. We’d sure look like a bunch of liars if we started a fight with them over this.” He turned around, pausing only to look at Adair for a brief second. “Anyways, Adair’s a bastard, they’ll learn that soon enough. When that happens, they’ll come to us for help. Let’s just go.”

With some apprehension, they funnelled away. Finally, Trace holstered her weapon as they left. When they were gone, her shoulders grew slack, and she placed a hand on her chest.

“That was stupidly fucking tense.”

“For real. Thought we were gonna get into a fight with them. I liked them.” Liz sheathed her Obsidian Longsword.

Trace was just glad that the worst didn’t come to pass; she wanted to collapse from exhaustion at this point. However, first she turned around and approached Adair.

“You alright?” She placed a hand on his shoulder.

He jerked back slightly as if he didn’t see her walk his way. His attention had been drawn to where the Precursors of Peace went. “I apologise,” he said, meeting her gaze. “I have burdened you with my own hostility once more. Perhaps I let my own lassitude get the better of my character. The optimal course of action would’ve been to defuse the situation with diplomacy, not worsen it with animosity.”

Trace rolled her eyes. “Oh, stop being so annoying and just say thanks.”

“R-right.” Adair straightened, dusting off his clothes. “Thank you for your assistance, Ms Trace Taylor, Ms Elizabeth Evergreen.” He bowed his head at both of them.

The redhead scowled and lightly punched him on the arm. “And stop being so formal. Just call me Trace.”

“Yeah— my friends call me Liz,” the sable-tressed woman added with a grin.

Adair’s eyes rolled between the pair. It seemed like he had a hard time processing what they were saying. “…friends?”

Trace pursed her lips. “Well, I wouldn’t say we’re friends just yet. But just be more casual. It’s less weird that way. C’mon, is it really that hard to address us with just our names?”

“Certainly not,” he scoffed. But he needed a long pause before saying it. “Trace, Liz,” he said with a deep breath, “thank you.”

“Sure.” Trace grinned and turned around. “Now, let’s go find some place to sleep. I’m bloody tired as hell.”

* * *

The battle with the durable serpentfiend had taken about an hour or two. Which meant that it had still been nighttime when it was finally over. Trace didn’t know what time it was, just that it was time for her to sleep. Well, she wanted to, but first she made sure that the people in the town were safe.

They thanked her and Liz and Adair. It wasn’t a large crowd— only a few dozen people at most, including the family Trace saved. And while not everyone in town showed, those that did offered the group of three a place to say, much to the redhead’s gratitude. She slept soundly until the sun swelled in the sky.

When she awoke, the red ring was peeking out from the eastward horizon. An amber-coloured glare was cast across the teething line where day and night clashed. Trace thanked the family and left the house, seeing the destruction in silhouette. The flame-lopes that ebbed away at the petrol station had flowed into the concrete and evaporated over the course of the night. All that remained was the burnt debris that spilled smoke into the azure sea above.

Adair and Liz joined her soon enough. Perhaps it was her heightened vitality or endurance, but she felt rejuvenated after a few hours’ rest. Stretching her back, she heaved a heavy breath and ushered them forward.

“C’mon, let’s get back to Liberapolis.”

Adair was still uneasy. Clearly wary of the four members of the Precursors of Peace they’d met a few hours earlier. He hadn’t expounded on why they wanted him just yet, and Trace wasn’t going to prod him. All she did was try to reassure him as they exited the town.

“There’s no need to worry, Adair,” she said. “They won’t try anything with us around, and they’ve already left. So, it’s not like we’ll see them ever again—”

The group of three halted when they caught sight of another group heading down the road to Liberapolis.

Sam waved at them, grinning. “Hey. Did you guys sleep well?”

Trace stared at them as they lugged the head of the durable serpentfiend behind them. She turned to Liz who raised an amused brow. Then Ex laughed.

[Spoke too soon, didn’t you?]

“Oh, piss off!” She threw her hands in the air.

Sam drew back, placing a hand on his chest. “Ouch, that kind of hurts.”

“No, I was talking to—” Trace massaged her temples. “Never mind.”

Killshot Apocalypse 22

Trace Taylor, Elizabeth Evergreen, and Adair Russell headed back for Liberapolis.

It was morning. The sun painted its way up the blue canvas, its golden rays brushing past the white smears of clouds and onto the treetop. It leaked down from the shorn canopy, spilling its light over the undergrowth and wetting the mud with a glint of yellow.

The group of three sluggishly trudged through the dampened dirt. Fruit-rind, dead leaves, and fallen branches squashed under their feet as they dragged themselves onward. The city laid ahead: tall edifices that broached from the horizon. Crowded buildings that were mostly empty and deserted since it was… well, the end of the world.

People flocked away from cities and towns in search of glory in slaying monsters, or safety from each other. After all, no one could be trusted anymore; suspicion perfumed the air like the aroma of sweet wine, and a single whiff of it would rid one of their common sense. Even Trace was affected by this diffusing distrust.

She warily eyed the other group heading for Liberapolis. Four individuals stalked behind, bringing with them the large head of a durable serpentfiend strung onto a makeshift sled. They pushed and pulled and heaved and panted as Trace shook her head.

“They’re following us,” Liz said as she looked over at the Precursors of Peace. “You think they’re going to try anything?”

The redhead pursed her lips. “I don’t know. But they’re dangerous…” She tightly gripped her pistol. “Just be on guard in case they try anything.”

The Precursors of Peace halted abruptly. Trace tensed as Liz reached for her Obsidian Longsword. Adair’s fingers twitched, gathering aether.

And a voice with a Brooklyn accent shouted.

“Do you think we can’t hear you, or what?” Jackie shook a fist at them.

The redhead blinked as Nathan continued. “Yeah, the fuck? Why are you guys shit-talking us after we helped you?”

She exchanged a glance with her best friend, while Sam grunted as he pushed the sled from behind.

“Guys?” he said in a shaky voice. “Why’d you stop pulling?”

Jackie and Nathan had let go of their ropes, and the head of the durable serpentfiend was threatening to topple over and crush Sam, the only one who was at the back.

“Oh, sorry,” they chorused as they helped steady it.

The three of them continued to labouriously push their prize forward while Darius stood to the side, watching. “Why do we even need to do this, anyways?”

“Because, Darius,” Jackie said, annoyed, “somebody decided to crash our truck.” She glared at Nathan.

“Hey, it’s not my fault, remember? There was a giant fucking monster there, bro.”

“You could at least get yer dogs to help us, right?”

“Sorry, bro. They’ve done enough work for today, haven’t they?” He dropped his rope to scratch the back of Major’s ear. It barked in return.

“Nathan!” Jackie and Sam shouted as the durable serpentfiend’s head tilted back.

“Oh, fuck—”

Trace stared at the Precursors of Peace. She watched as they rushed around to stop the giant snake-like head from falling over. Then she turned back to Liz.

“Actually, I take it back— they’re not dangerous,” the redhead said with a sigh. “They’re just idiots.”

Both groups eventually reached the edge of Liberapolis. Trace, Liz, and Adair continued towards the northwest where the buildings grew just a little taller, while the Precursors of Peace started for downtown. To the northeast. A different direction.

Trace narrowed her eyes as she looked at where they were going. The looming archway that towered over the city waited in the distance. It was a Gate: one of the supposed portals that led to another world.

“Where are you guys going?” she asked.

“Oh, so now yer talking ta us?” Jackie spat.

Nathan made a look of disgust. “What the hell, bro? That’s disgusting! You got your saliva all over me!”

“I’ll do it again—”

“We’re headed for the Gate, as you can tell,” Sam said, speaking over his two friends. He gestured at the tall archway far behind him. “That’s where we’ll be setting up our base.”

“Your base?” The redhead raised a brow.

“Yo, Sam,”— Nathan wiped at his face as Jackie splattered saliva all over him— “don’t you think you’re telling her a little too much?”

Sam waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. I’d prefer it if she visits.” He winked at Trace, and she blinked in response.

“Erm? …”

“Anyways,” he said, turning back to Nathan. “We’re not going to be the only ones at the base. What are they even going to do when they get there? Fight all hundred of us?”

“I guess…” Nathan trailed off.

“Yeah, are you a moron or what?” Jackie smacked the back of his head.

“Ouch— the fuck, bro?”

“All hundred of you?” Trace narrowed her eyes, and Adair Russell pursed his lips.

“He is not being hyperbolic, Ms Trace—” He cleared his throat. “I mean, Tr-Trace Taylor.”

“Good enough,” she scoffed. “It’s still too formal, but good enough.” Adair flushed, and she rolled her eyes. “Anyways, what does that mean?”

“It means—” he started but was promptly cut off.

“It means that it’s going to be our base of operations.” Sam smirked. “Our friends will be gathering here, Trace. Other members of the Precursors of Peace. Hundreds of them. Maybe even thousands. And—”

Sam paused as he held Adair’s gaze.

“And so will Noah Hawthorne, Supreme Leader of the Precursors of Peace.”

* * *

When Trace, Liz, and Adair returned to the commune, Veronica was ecstatic. She was delighted to hear that the serpentfiends had been defeated. Or at least, ostensibly defeated for now. But when she heard the news about the Precursors of Peace, her lips twisted into a frown.

“They’re coming? Here?” she asked, aghast, and Trace nodded.

“We’re not sure either,” the redhead said. “They were lugging around the head of the durable serpentfiend too. Bringing it with them downtown.”

“But why?”

Adair pointed out of the window. “It is because of that.”

All heads turned to where he was pointing. A pure archway. One that seemed to glitter from far away. The Gate that led to another world.

Trace stared at it, dubious. “They can’t just be coming here to take a gander at that, can they? There’s dozens of other cities with a Gate. Hell, New York City has two Gates.”

“And yet, that is where they are gathering,” Adair said, adamant. “I understand Supreme Leader Noah Hawthorne’s character. And he would not step a foot in this city without purpose.”

“What is that purpose?”

“To unlock the Gate: to go to another world.” His answer was kind of expected, but Trace still raised a brow when she heard him say it. “That’s why they brought the durable serpentfiend’s head. To gather the credits lodged in its body. And for material. Armor and weapons which they can wield and sell for even more credits.”

She crossed her arms. “Why are you so certain, anyways? Isn’t the Precursors of Peace only half a month old? You couldn’t have been with them long enough to know all this.”

“It is, indeed, Trace Taylor. But I have known Noah Hawthorne for far longer than that.” There was something in his eyes, a hollow gaze that was hidden behind the tint of his spectacles.

Trace waited. “Are you… erm, going to elaborate?”

“I apologise, Trace Taylor, but...”

“Of course not,” she snorted.

Veronica placed a reassuring hand on Adair’s shoulder. “It’s fine,” she said. “You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.” Facing Trace, she continued. “Adair has already explained his circumstances to us. That’s part of the reason why we decided against keeping him locked up. That, and he promised to aid us in setting up this commune.”

The redhead shrugged. “I’m just saying, he shouldn’t have mentioned anything about knowing Noah in the first place if he didn’t want to elaborate.”

Veronica and Adair looked at each other. “Fair,” they admitted.

Liz leant against the wall, arms behind her back. “Why are we so worried about the Precursors of Peace, anyways? I deadass don’t think they’re that bad.”

Trace gave her best friend a flat stare.

“What? I find them funny.”

“Nothing,” the redhead said with a sigh. “Somehow, I can’t disagree with that.”

“For now, we’ll leave them be.” Veronica nodded before glancing at the Gate. “But if they try anything to harm our commune or the people living here, we will act.”

Trace, Adair, and Liz nodded in agreement. Then the redhead blinked.

Wait, we? …

[Affirmative.]

Fuck, I’m some sort of city guard now, aren’t I?

[Affirmative. Congratulations on acquiring employment, Trace Taylor.]

* * *

Trace honestly agreed with it— with Veronica’s rationale. Things were going to shit, and the commune needed someone to protect it. The only problem the redhead had was just how absolutely exhausting of a job it’d be.

“Alright, I’mma head to bed now. Didn’t get enough sleep last night. I’m beat.” Liz waved as she slammed her door shut. They’d returned to The Evergreen Gun Range. Just the two of them. And the first thing they did was take shower. The next was to retire to their rooms.

The redhead dragged herself into her room, yawning as she collapsed onto her bed. However, before she could pass out, there was something she’d been curious about and wanted to investigate.

“Hey, Ex.”

[Affirmative?]

“Do you know what exactly changes for each skill when they level up?”

[The changes are significant, but also depend on the skill. I can relay the improvements if you request it.]

“Please.”

[(F+) Magically Enhanced Accuracy Level 13 – Your accuracy is permanently improved via magical means.

(E-) Quick Fire Level 9 – Your gun can unload bullets thrice as fast as it is designed to fire.]

There didn’t seem to be any quantitative change for Magically Enhanced Accuracy, as Trace expected. But she was surprised by Quick Fire. It had previously let her shoot twice as fast as she should be able to. Now, it was three times.

“Perhaps it multiplies for every five levels gained?” That was the assumption she’d go off on for now.

[(E) Recall Weapon Level 8 – You can summon the last weapon you were holding if it is within 28 metres of you. Range will increase for each skill level gained. Can be used once every minute.

(E+) Vulnerability Vision Level 10 – You can pinpoint the most vulnerable body parts of any creature up to 24 levels above you, as well as any object that is smaller than 10x10 metres and is not enhanced by magic. Level range will increase for each skill level gained. The maximum dimensions of the object will correspond to the skill level.

(E+) Last in the Chamber Level 9 – You can fire a powerful magical bullet when your magazine is emptied. Can be used once every nine minutes. Cooldown will decrease for each skill level gained.]

Recall Weapon had increased in distance, but it still could only be used every minute. Unlike before her class evolution where each level corresponded to an additional metre for its range, the skill now added 2 metres for each level gained. Which was why it had gone up from 14 metres at level 1, to 28 metres at level 8. 7 levels and a 14 metre increase.

Vulnerability Vision now affected things up to 24 levels above Trace. Which was fortunate for her, especially if she encountered another monster like the durable serpentfiend again, except a little higher levelled. The durable serpentfiend had been level 32. If Trace had been at a lower level, she wouldn’t have been able to use the skill on it to take it down.

Now that she killed it and levelled Vulnerability Vision, that wouldn’t have been a problem. At least, for other level 30 monsters.

Last in the Chamber seemed to function similarly to Quick Fire. Trace assumed that it would take off a minute from the skill’s use for every five levels gained.

“Interesting. And what about Mystic Bullets?”

[(D-) Mystic Bullets Level 8 – Your bullets are magically enhanced with additional damage.]

“Should have expected that.”

[While the additional damage is not quantified,] Ex explained, [it does increase for each level the skill gains.]

“I see.” Trace lay in her bed, taking a moment to absorb it all in.

[Are you satisfied with my explanations, Trace Taylor?]

“Quite satisfied,” she said, rolling over and closing her eyes. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to continue my sleep.”

A few hours passed, and Trace eventually woke up when the sun had reached its zenith. She didn’t get a lot of sleep. She probably slept a total of five or six hours throughout the night. And yet, she was refreshed.

“A trait of endurance, I’m presuming?”

[Affirmative.]

The redhead grabbed a tin of dried food and popped it open, scarfing it down greedily. Neither endurance nor vitality did much to alleviate her appetite. Or maybe they did, but the use of her skills and magic negated their effects. Once she was finished with her brunch— if the canned food could be called brunch— she searched for Liz, only to find that her best friend had already left.

“Now, where could she have gone?” Trace stopped at the front door, staring at the wooden planks lying on the ground in pieces. “Seriously, she could at least just pry them off instead of slicing them apart.”

Grabbing a hammer, she quickly fixed the barrier over the front door with Makeshift Materials, Quick Hands, and Rapid Repair.

[(G) Quick Hands has reached level 9!

(F) Makeshift Materials has reached level 6!

(F) Makeshift Materials has reached level 7!

(F+) Rapid Repair has reached level 8!

Builder has reached level 8!]

However, as she laboured away, boarding up the doorway, she heard what sounded like an echo of her hammer on metal and wood.

In the distance, someone— or multiple someones— were working with hammers and tools too. Trace didn’t hear any electric tools, which, of course not. The power grid was dead. But she was curious enough to investigate the source of the noise.

She dropped what she was doing, heading down four blocks west where the banging of tools was at its loudest. There, she spotted Veronica’s partner, Jeremy, watching over a group of Builders as they worked at a…

Trace frowned.

“Are they building a fucking wall?”

Killshot Apocalypse 23

A wall was being built around the commune. Or at least, the foundations for a wall.

“We went around, asked for volunteers, and these folks were kind enough to offer their services,” Jeremy explained to the redhead as he nodded at the Builders behind him.

“And they just… said yes?”

Trace Taylor blinked. She turned to Jeremy for answers. He was one of the officers in charge of the commune— specifically, Veronica’s partner. He had helped her apprehend Adair the night he broke into The Evergreen Gun Range.

“They did, yes.” Jeremy folded his arms, curled-lipped in satisfaction. “Fact is, everyone here just wants to help out. Ain’t that right, boys?”

“That’s right!” A man sauntered away from the scaffolding. He had a towel hugging the back of his neck, soaked in sweat. “We’re building a wall, and we’re going to keep those damn aliens out!”

“Yo,” someone said from the back, “that sounds kinda racist.”

The man groaned. He rectified his statement. “We’re going to keep those damn monsters out. There, happy?”

“Now you just sound like you’re calling them monsters. And that’s even more racist.”

“You know what? Fuck you—”

There were about a dozen Builders in total. Which was not a lot. But there were also non-Builders here, too. Those whose vocations were tied to construction by a loose strand; they laboured with just as much ardour as the Builders amongst them.

These men and women had been forced out of their homes, just like many others had been when Neo Genesis happened. Now, they were given a sanctuary. A haven for the sane and the worried to gather in safety, away from the insanity that was the rest of the world. And it was being attacked.

Attacked by simple monsters, yes. Trace knew that that was the ostensible explanation they’d been given. However, her eyes landed on the glittering archway downtown— at the heart of Liberapolis. A pure white structure that seemed translucent amongst the reflective skyscrapers protectively girdling it.

That was where Sam had gone. And that was where the Precursors of Peace were going to gather.

Veronica had been worried that the organisation— a supposed group of terrorists— would try something. So, Trace knew that this wall was just as much to keep them out as it was to keep monsters out. Not that it was the most effective method to achieve this: it could be torn down with ease by anything or anyone of a high enough level.

Regardless, it was added security. And Trace approved of it.

“Let me help out,” she volunteered without hesitation.

Jeremy turned to her, frowning. “You want to help build this wall?”

“Yes,” she said and gestured at herself. “I’m a Builder too. Been fixing up The Evergreen Gun Range pretty much every day since this whole end-of-the-world thing started.”

“You’ve already helped out plenty, Trace. There’s no need to force yourself.

“I’m not forcing myself. Look, if I didn’t want to help, I wouldn’t suggest it, alright? Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

“But what about your leg?” Jeremy asked curiously.

“My leg?” The redhead glanced down at it.

He nodded, still apprehensive. “You injured it a week ago. Could barely even walk. I saw you tripping over nothing because of it.”

“I’m fine… I think? My leg gave in on me a few times during the battle with the durable serpentfiend, but that was only after pushing myself too much. If it’s just some physical labour,”— Trace pointed at the skeleton of a wall— “then I can help without a problem.”

Jeremy glanced between her and his workers. Eventually, he conceded. “Fine. But don’t injure yourself on the job. Veronica will chew my ass if she finds out you tore a hamstring while picking up a stack of bricks.”

Trace snorted. “So, what should I do?”

He gave her some instructions and sent her on her way. Before beginning work, Trace stretched away the soreness in her aching muscles from the day before. When she was ready, she grabbed some tools and started immediately.

[This is most unusual,] Ex said as she reached for a hammer.

“What’s unusual about what?” she replied absentmindedly.

[Your actions, Trace Taylor. For the first time since I have met you, you are taking the initiative without outside intervention.]

“Oh, sod off.”

She greeted the other labourers, getting straight to work. The sun beat away at her as she beat away at wooden boards and iron nails. The clamour of metal on metal filled Trace’s ears, greying into the background like static from an old-fashioned television. It was afternoon before she realised it.

Trace placed her hammer on a workbench as Jeremy called out.

“Lunch break! Grab your meals here!”

The Builders streamed away from the half-built wall like the sweat that dripped down their bodies and wetted their shirts. Despite wearing a jacket and a scarf, Trace barely found herself breaking a sweat. It wasn’t a hot day; it was autumn, and she thought it rather cold. But that normally wouldn’t stop her from perspiring when carrying out arduous labour.

The thing was, however, she didn’t find herself tired. She’d been working for at least two hours yet was still pretty much refreshed. Her E endurance was at work. And she liked it.

“Is this what it feels like to be an athlete?”

“Hey, Trace, are you coming?” a voice said. It came from Stanley— one of the men who she’d been chatting with as they worked on the wall.

“I’m on my way! Let me just grab my stuff.”

Unlike everyone else who’d been provided equipment, Trace had brought her own from The Evergreen Gun Range. She grabbed her toolbox and reached for her hammer. Then she paused.

Wait, is that even mine? It looked no different from the dozens of other hammers left lying around. I’m sure it doesn’t matter if I accidentally take someone else’s hammer, right?

Shrugging, she reached to pick it up— and an idea crossed through her mind. A hammer… was a weapon, was it not? Trace thought of her skill. Her eyes lit up as the faintest of aether became visible.

Taking a step back, Trace whispered, “Recall Weapon.”

The hammer flashed. It was swallowed by a blue light and spat back out into Trace’s hand. She stared at it, grinning.

“Neat.”

She went to eat lunch.

* * *

“So, how’d you even get to level 18, anyways?” Stan— or Stanley— asked as he leaned over the table.

“Me?” Trace drew back.

“Yeah! I tried going to one of the Dungeons. They were the worst. Only levelled once and nearly lost my damn arm.” He tightly gripped his shoulder as his face twisted in shadowed pain.

“I, erm…”

“Well? …”

The woman sitting next to him placed a hand on his back. “Relax, Stan. You’re scaring her.” She was his wife— they were both around 50 years old, maybe older.

“Scaring her?” He narrowed his eyes. “Meryl, how am I scaring her? She’s the one who’s level 18! This old man is barely level 5!”

“Oh, with that face of yours, of course you’d be scaring her.”

Meryl giggled with a hand covering her face as Stan sat back down with his arms folded. He harrumphed. “Fine. But I still want to know how this young lady here reached level 18 so quickly.”

Trace shifted as the couple remembered she was there. She dug her spoon into the canned food and stirred it as she tried to come up with a response.

“Erm, I… almost died a couple times?” Honestly, she didn’t even know how to explain it. There were a bunch of monsters— some stranger than others— and they tried to kill her. So, she killed them instead. “I’m not even that high-levelled. You should ask my friend about this. She levels up faster than me.”

“Not that high-levelled? …” Stan sputtered.

There was a sudden lull in the conversations happening around them. The makeshift cafeteria grew silent as more than one face turned to Trace with a judgemental gaze. She gulped.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“I know you’re trying to be modest,” Stan said, shaking his head. “But you’re probably one of the highest-levelled people out there. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re in the top 500!”

“In the world?”

“In America.”

“Oh.”

That was still flattering, and Trace could now see why Stan looked at her that way. Not that she thought she was special. She found the attention a bit unsettling.

“Either way, we’re glad that you’re helping protect this commune.” Meryl gave her a warm smile.

“S-sure.” Trace flushed. She quickly stood up, looking for a clock or a watch to stare at. When she couldn’t find either, she raised her tin and faced Stan. “Do you, erm, know where I can find the trash?”

“Sure, it’s right over there—”

With that, she managed to excuse herself from the table. The background conversations returned as she sighed in relief, glad to be away from the spotlight.

[You’re really out of your element when you’re not arguing with someone, aren’t you?] Ex commented in a snide voice.

“Leave me alone, will you, Ex?”

[I physically cannot, Trace Taylor.]

“You know what I mean,” the redhead snorted. “I dislike being the centre of attention. And this is even worse than that.”

[Could you elaborate?]

She leant against a wall, eyeing the eating Builders from afar. “It just feels weird, alright? It’s like they’re looking at me as if I’m some kind of superhero.”

[Superhero?] he asked curiously. [I understand the meaning of both those words, but I cannot compute what you are implying.]

“A superhero. It’s… a thing? From movies.” She vaguely waved at a nearby electronics store. It was empty, and its display window was smashed. Obviously, robbed. “Or… comic thing?”

[So, they are fictional characters that exist for entertainment?]

“Something like that. It’s a bit hard to explain, y’know?”

[No, I do not know.]

“Oh my god,” she said in frustration. “I’ll show you a comic later. I’m sure Liz has one stashed in her house.”

[Affirmative.] Ex sounded pleased.

Out of all things to pique his interest, superheroes were what did it? If only Trace were a big comic nerd. Too bad she only occasionally watched movies. Although, considering everything that was going on, she didn’t think that a new movie was going to come out anytime soon. Or… ever, anymore.

Trace got back to work. The day ended with a cold wind blowing in from the north. Most of those working on the walls retired long before the redhead. She was the only one who stayed there until the end. Clouds gathered over the horizon like a closing curtain, smothering the sun of its fiery orange light.

It was night when she returned to The Evergreen Gun Range. Liz was back, polishing her Obsidian Longsword with a towel.

“Yo! Where were you all day?” the sable-tressed woman asked in her usual carefree demeanour.

“I should be the one asking you that.” Trace settled into a chair. “Didn’t see you leave this morning. Also— you broke the door again.”

“You needa make some sort of lock so I don’t gotta keep smashing my way in.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?”

Liz shrugged. “How am I supposed to get in?”

“Fair.” The redhead grabbed a drink and downed in. “Where were you all day, anyways?”

“Hunting.” Her best friend gestured towards the shooting range section of the building. “We can’t rely on canned food forever, so I killed some monsters.”

“And are they… edible?” Trace wrinkled her nose. She didn’t smell anything too bad coming from the other room.

“Probably. We’ll figure that out later. How about you, though? Where were you today?”

“Veronica’s having a wall built. I’m helping out.”

“Nice. I was actually thinking of asking her to create some sort of hunting party. So I’ll be in charge of something. Make myself feel important and all.” Liz twirled her weapon by its hilt, and Trace perked up.

“You could say hi to Brandon while you’re there. Catch up with him, y’know?”

“Maybe,” Liz said, standing up. “I’ll think about that next time. Anyways, wanna eat some monster parts?”

The redhead hesitated. “…fine.”

* * *

And thus, for the next few days, Trace and Liz did their things, separate from each other. The redhead continued working on the wall, from dawn to dusk, even throughout the twilight chills of autumn. She grew acclimated with the cold and the banging of hammers against walls. Until, finally, Ex said something to make her pause.

[(G) Quick Hands has reached level 10!

(G) Quick Hands has reached max level!

(F) Makeshift Materials has reached level 10!

(F) Makeshift Materials has reached max level!

(F+) Rapid Repair has reached level 10!

(F+) Rapid Repair has reached max level!

Builder has reached level 10!

You have reached level 10 in your vocation! Multiple vocation evolution options can now be chosen!]

“Oh, nice.”

Killshot Apocalypse 24

Trace Taylor tilted her head back. “So, I’m a level 10 Builder now?”

[Affirmative. That is indeed what I had just said.]

“Don’t sass me. I’m tired, alright?” she said as she slumped into a chair. “I spent all day hammering away at a damn wall. My ears are still ringing, so sorry if I didn’t hear you the first time.”

[Considering that my words are being directly transmitted into your mind,] Ex started, snappier than usual, [that is not a valid excuse.]

“Are you mad because I haven’t shown you a superhero comic book?”

[Affirmative.]

“Well, sorry. If it wasn’t the end of the fucking world, I’d have gotten right on that.”

[That is not a valid excuse,] he repeated himself. [You promised me that you’d show me a superhero comic book later. You have not.]

Trace rolled her eyes. “Is this what raising a child is like?” she snorted and stood up. “Fine. Liz doesn’t own any superhero comic books, but I could ask around for anyone who does.”

[Thank you, Trace Taylor. I am pleased.]

Fucking hell, I swear he acts more and more like a kid as the days go by.

[You do realise I can still hear you, right?] Ex said, voice flat.

The redhead grinned. “Affirmative.”

With a chuckle, she bounced back to her feet and into the kitchen. The Evergreen Gun Range was empty— Liz was out killing monsters or something, leaving the entire building to Trace.

The redhead grabbed a can of beans and headed up to her room. Popping it open, she spoke to her AI. “Anyways, now that I’m a level 10 Builder, I can evolve into a new vocation, right?”

[Affirmative.]

“Well, what are the options?”

[These are the possible vocation evolutions you may undergo:

Augur Architect – A specialised vocation that draws from magic to create intricate and planned designs with purpose. It is a branching evolution of Builder.

Magical Builder – A specialised vocation that utilises magic in its creation. It is a direct evolution of Builder.

Skilled Builder – A specialised vocation that enhances the quality of structures built. It is a direct evolution of Builder.

Swift Constructor – A hybrid vocation that rapidly increases the speed of building with others. It is a branching evolution of Builder.]

“A few of these are quite obvious.” Trace lay on her bed as she dug into her dinner. “I’m most interested in a Magical Builder.”

[Trace Taylor, I recommend investigating all offered options,] Ex said in an annoyed voice.

She snorted. “I know. So, what do they all do?”

[Augur Architect – A specialised vocation that draws from magic to create intricate and planned designs with purpose. It is a branching evolution of Builder.

Trait Growth:

Strength: E+ to E+
Magic: E+ to D
Endurance: E to E+
Vitality: E- to E+
Dexterity: D to D

Skill Changes:

(G) Quick Hands evolves to (F) Hasty Design – Your speed of working with tools and planning constructions is enhanced.

(F) Makeshift Materials evolves to (E-) Magically Makeshift Materials – You can appropriate unsuitable materials effectively for building through magical means.

(F+) Rapid Repair evolves to (E+) Restoration and Creation – You can work five times as fast when building or fixing things for up to twelve hours straight. Speed will increase a skill level increases. Can be used once a day.

Skills Gained:

(E) Silent Construction – You can temporarily muffle your hearing for an hour once a day. Duration is increased for each skill level gained.

(D-) Architect’s Hand – You can manipulate and move multiple materials through telekinesis to aid your construction.]

“First of all, it has a bloody pretentious name,” Trace said as she set the canned food down on the nightstand. “Second of all, that’s a bloody good vocation, huh?”

[Affirmative. I would be inclined to claim that this is the best vocation option that you have unlocked.]

“Isn’t it worst for first, not best for first?”

[I have not heard either of those sayings.]

“Now you have.”

The skills for an Augur Architect could easily be used for non-standard applications unrelated to building or repairing broken doors. Hell, she was pretty sure she could have used Architect’s Hand to grab her pistol whenever Recall Weapon was in cooldown… or the television remote when she was too lazy to get up.

And as for Silent Construction, it could probably help Trace with sleeping whenever there was a ruckus. Seriously, those two new skills were incredibly useful.

Her older skills underwent some changes too. Restoration and Creation and Hasty Design seemed to just be improved versions of the Rapid Repair and Quick Hands. Meanwhile, Magically Makeshift Materials sounded like it’d just be an improvement of Makeshift Materials, but apparently it was more than that.

It somehow involved… magic? Trace was interested in seeing how that worked. For now, she decided to check out her next vocation evolution option.

[Magical Builder – A specialised vocation that utilises magic in its creation. It is a direct evolution of Builder.

Trait Growth:

Strength: E+ to D-
Magic: E+ to D
Endurance: E to E+
Vitality: E- to E-
Dexterity: D to D

Skill Changes:

(G) Quick Hands evolves to (F-) Fast Worker – Your speed of working with tools is greatly enhanced.

(F) Makeshift Materials evolves to (E-) Magically Makeshift Materials – You can appropriate unsuitable materials effectively for building through magical means.

(F+) Rapid Repair evolves to (E+) Building Enhancement – You can work twenty times as fast when building or fixing things for up to an hour through magical means. Can be used once every twelve hours. Cooldown is decreased for each skill level gained.

Skill Gained:

(D-) Instant Fix – You instantly fix one handheld object once a day. Cooldown will decrease for every level gained.]

“Only a single skill gained?” The redhead furrowed her brows. “That’s a pretty good skill, but still…”

It was, theoretically, if its ranking were to be believed, equivalent to Architect’s Hand. And it didn’t even sound that useful. How often was Trace going to break a handheld object? Perhaps it could evolve into something far better… the potential seemed to be there.

Unfortunately, the other skills for the vocation lacked said potential. Magically Makeshift materials was the exact same skill Trace got from Augur Architect, and Fast Worker sounded inferior to Hasty Design. Building Enhancement could be superior to Restoration and Creation, but it wasn’t enough to sway her.

“What’s next?”

[Skilled Builder – A specialised vocation that enhances the quality of structures built. It is a direct evolution of Builder.

Trait Growth:

Strength: E+ to E+
Magic: E+ to E+
Endurance: E to E+
Vitality: E- to E+
Dexterity: D to D+

Skill Changes:

(G) Quick Hands evolves to (F-) Fast Worker – Your speed of working with tools is greatly enhanced.

(F) Makeshift Materials evolves to (F+) Resource Scavenging – You have the keen ability to use unconventional materials effectively for building and have the sense to find irreplaceable resources within a hundred metres radius of you.

(F+) Rapid Repair evolves to (E) Better Rapid Repair – You can work thrice as fast when building or fixing things for up to an hour. Can be used again after thirty minutes.

Skills Gained:

(E+) Perfect Dimensions – You can perfectly measure the dimensions of any object you see that is 5x5 metres or smaller. Size will increase for each skill level gained.

(E+) Masterful Craftwork – You are able to recreate any non-magical design you see at first glance as long as you have the time and the materials.]

Trace tapped a finger on her chin.

[If this vocation option is not to your preference, you can—]

“No, that’s not it,” Trace said and got to her feet. “I’m thirsty.” She ambled down the stairs and grabbed a glass from the kitchen. Taking a refreshing sip, she let out a sigh. “See, if I had Architect’s Hand, I wouldn’t even need to do that.”

[Affirmative.]

“I could just snap a finger and I’d have my water.” She set the cup back down onto the kitchen counter.

[So, I take it that you wish to be an Augur Architect?]

“Not just yet. A Skilled Builder doesn’t have bad skills, although there’s a lot of overlap with it and a Magical Builder. The only difference is that it sounds so incredibly boring. Perfect Dimensions? Masterful Craftwork? I’m not some kind of third century artisan— I just want to survive this apocalypse.”

[I take it that you wish to be an Augur Architect?] Ex repeated himself.

She returned to her room and made herself comfortable underneath her blanket. It was night now, and she wanted to get some shut eye after a long day of working.

Liz wasn’t back yet. If she wasn’t back by dawn, Trace would search for her.

“Just tell me what a Swift Constructor does.”

[Swift Constructor – A hybrid vocation that rapidly increases the speed of building with others. It is a branching evolution of Builder.

Trait Growth:

Strength: E+ to D-
Magic: E+ to E+
Endurance: E to E+
Vitality: E- to E-
Dexterity: D to C-

Skill Changes:

(G) Quick Hands evolves to (F) Hasty Design – Your speed of working with tools and planning constructions is enhanced.

(F) Makeshift Materials evolves to (F+) Resource Scavenging – You have the keen ability to use unconventional materials effectively for building and have the sense to find irreplaceable resources within a hundred metres radius of you.

(F+) Rapid Repair evolves to (E) Better Rapid Repair – You can work thrice as fast when building or fixing things for up to an hour. Can be used again after thirty minutes.

Skills Gained:

(E+) Perfect Dimensions – You can perfectly measure the dimensions of any object you see that is 5x5 metres or smaller. Size will increase for each skill level gained.

(E+) Swift Disassemble – You can quickly disassemble objects.]

“Y’know, the fact that it shares the worst skills with the other vocations doesn’t convince me to choose it. At all.”

[So, I take it that you wish to be an Augur Architect?]

Trace scowled. “Piss off.” She turned over in her bed and paused. “But… yes. I’d much rather be an Augur Architect. The only skill a Swift Constructor has for itself is Swift Disassemble. And it’s just too damn vague. Why doesn’t it have anything else other than that?”

[Overlap between skill evolutions are common as there is a limited number of branches a skill could undergo,] Ex explained. [As for the overlap between gained skills… you simply are unlucky.]

“Of course I am. If I were lucky, I wouldn’t have to deal with your constant whining.” The redhead waited for a retort, but Ex remained silent. She pursed her lips. “I, erm, meant that as a joke.”

He still said nothing.

Shit, did I go too far? Trace grew worried when ten more seconds passed, and there was no voice in her head.

“Look, I didn’t mean to offend you, Ex. It was meant to be banter, and I didn’t know what your boundaries were. I’m sorry.” She waited— hoped that the authenticity of her words would reach him.

Finally, Ex replied softly, [Are you truly sorry?]

“Yes.”

[Then I demand reimbursement.]

Trace couldn’t help but hesitate. “Reimbursement?”

[Affirmative,] he said as his voice took on a cheeky tone. [I would like to see a superhero comic book.]

She blinked. And then she sat up in her bed. “You bloody bellend! I thought you were actually mad at me!”

[You promised me that you’d show me a superhero comic book later. You have not.]

“Sod off!” She huffed and tugged her blankets back over herself. “Just make me an Augur Architect already.”

[Affirmative.

[Augur Architect – A specialised vocation that draws from magic to create intricate and planned designs with purpose. It is a branching evolution of Builder.

Trait Growth:

Strength: E+ to E+
Magic: E+ to D
Endurance: E to E+
Vitality: E- to E+
Dexterity: D to D

Skill Changes:

(G) Quick Hands evolves to (F) Hasty Design – Your speed of working with tools and planning constructions is enhanced.

(F) Makeshift Materials evolves to (E-) Magically Makeshift Materials – You can appropriate unsuitable materials effectively for building through magical means.

(F+) Rapid Repair evolves to (E+) Restoration and Creation – You can work five times as fast when building or fixing things for up to twelve hours straight. Speed will increase a skill level increases. Can be used once a day.

Skills Gained:

(E) Silent Construction – You can temporarily muffle your hearing for an hour once a day. Duration is increased for each skill level gained.

(D-) Architect’s Hand – You can manipulate and move multiple materials through telekinesis to aid your construction.

Do you accept this vocation?]

“I do.”

[You are now an Augur Architect.]

Name: Trace Taylor

Race: Human (Earth A314)

Class: Adept Spellshot – Lvl 18

Vocation: Augur Architect – Lvl 10

Craft: N/A

Traits:

Strength: E+
Magic: D
Endurance: E+
Vitality: E+
Dexterity: D

Skills:

Class Skills:
(F+) Magically Enhanced Accuracy – Lvl 13
(E-) Quick Fire – Lvl 9
(E) Recall Weapon – Lvl 8
(E+) Vulnerability Vision – Lvl 10
(E+) Last in the Chamber – Lvl 9
(D-) Mystic Bullets – Lvl 8

Vocation Skills:
(F) Hasty Design – Lvl 1
(E-) Magically Makeshift Materials – Lvl 1
(E) Silent Construction – Lvl 1
(E+) Restoration and Creation – Lvl 1
(D-) Architect’s Hand – Lvl 1

“Alright,” Trace said as a yawn escaped her lips, “now that that’s settled, I can finally go to sleep.”

[Negative.]

“Negative?”

[Affirmative,] Ex replied.

“Erm, do you mean affirmative negative, or negative affirmative?”

[Affirmative.]

“Just spit it out, already. What’s wrong?” The redhead brought a hand up, trying to call the glass of water to her. It didn’t budge. Odd. She’d figure out how it worked tomorrow.

[You should not go to sleep just yet, Trace Taylor. Because you have reached level 10 in both your class and your vocation.]

Her eyes widened as she realised what that meant— as she saw the single, minute change to her status screen.

[You may now choose a craft.]

Killshot Apocalypse 25

[You may now choose a craft.]

Trace Taylor peered quizzically at her AI. Or rather, she did so mentally since he was just a voice in her head.

“Right, I forgot about that,” she eventually said. “But I… totally didn’t forget what crafts were or what they did. Definitely don’t need a reminder.” A minute passed as she waited for an explanation. When none came, she sighed. “I do need a reminder.”

[Crafts are the embodiment of an individual’s imagination,] Ex explained. [Unlike classes which are designed only for battle, or vocations which are designed for labour, a craft can be designed to be either or more.”

“So, it’s pretty much everything that isn’t covered by a class or a vocation?”

[Affirmative. But some crafts even follow the parameters of a class or vocation.]

“Alright. And what options are there?”

[About that…] Ex hesitated, and the redhead raised a brow.

“What is it?”

[Considering your… obstinate nature—]

“Rude.”

[But true,] he said matter-of-factly.

“Fair, but rude regardless.”

[Considering your obstinate nature,] Ex repeated himself much to the redhead’s chagrin, [I have opted not to offer you the commonly chosen crafts. Instead, as per my assessment of your character and what is beneficial for you, I have selected two options which may pique your interest.]

“Y’know, you’re doing that whole ‘repeating yourself’ shtick too often. Don’t beat a dead horse, Ex.”

[I do not have a physical body to beat anything, Trace Taylor.]

“Oh, don’t pretend you didn’t get what I meant.” The redhead rolled her eyes as she rolled over in her bed. “Just tell me the options already.”

[Tinker - A basic craft specialised in item creation.

Herbalist – A basic craft specialised in medicine and supplement creation.]

“Hm.”

[Are you not pleased with these options?] Ex asked, curious.

“No— these are good,” Trace said, not convincingly. “I think. Depends on what they do, but they sound good.”

[Tinker – A basic craft specialised in item creation.

Trait Growth:

Strength: E+ to D-
Magic: D to D+
Endurance: E+ to E+
Vitality: E+ to E+
Dexterity: D to D

Skills Gained:

(F-) Tinker’s Mind – Your understanding of tools and how they are made is increased.

(F+) Upgraded Schematic – You can improve any tool that is of equivalent rank or below to the skill with the right materials once a week. Number of upgrades is increased as skill level increases.

(E-) Immersed Perception – You perceive time at double speed for up to ten minutes. Duration will increase for each skill level gained. Can be used once a day.

Herbalist – A basic craft specialised in medicine and supplement creation.

Trait Growth:

Strength: E+ to E+
Magic: D to D+
Endurance: E+ to D-
Vitality: E+ to E+
Dexterity: D to D

Skills Gained:

(F-) Herbs Conception – Your understanding of the concoction process of magical medicine is increased.

(F+) Keen Intuition – You have the ability to discern the use of an unknown herb three times a day. Number of uses is increased as skill level increases.

(E-) Healing Concoction – You produce three times the amount of healing-related remedies for amount of resources used. Will increase as skill level is increased.]

“These are the crafts?” Trace couldn’t help but sit up as Ex finished. “You’ve really given me a difficult choice, huh?”

[Affirmative,] he said. [As mentioned, I took what I understood of your character to determine the best options to offer you.]

The redhead massaged her temples. “They’re just both good. I mean, healing and medicine? That sounds nice. Instantly recovering from broken legs sounds nice.”

[I do not believe that an Herbalist, at level 1, will be able to create such an effective concoction.]

“I’m talking about the potential here.” She sat there, mulling over it for a good minute or so. “Ugh, do I really have to make a choice now? Why can’t I do it in the morning?”

[You can, but then you’d delay it to the day after that. Then the day after that. Then the day after that—]

“I get the point. Fine— it’s just tough, alright? What am I supposed to even choose here?”

[The question simply is: what do you want, Trace Taylor?]

“Well, I kind of want to be an Artist— if that’s even a craft,” she mused aloud. Before Ex could retort, she continued, “But to survive this damn apocalypse— I probably should choose Tinker, shouldn’t I?”

[Affirmative. There is an Artist craft, but I do not recommend it and I’d forever hold you in contempt if you chose it.]

“Oh, shut up. Don’t insult my childhood dream.” Trace crossed her arms. “It’s not like you can stop me from choosing it if I wanted to.”

[I’d rebel,] he said simply.

“An AI gains self-awareness and begins to rebel? Talk about cliche.”

[So,] he started, changing the subject. [Why Tinker and not Herbalist, Trace Taylor?]

Her eyes flickered as she remembered her bullets bouncing off the durable serpentfiend’s skin. “Simply, if I can upgrade my weapons, I’d stand more of a chance against high-levelled monsters when they inevitably attack me.”

[Inevitably?]

“Don’t pretend that it’s not inevitable. It’s literally the end of the world. And now that I’m this commune’s protector or something…” she trailed off. “Yeah, I don’t want to die.”

[Wouldn’t having healing items on hand mitigate this issue as well?]

“Probably, but I’m sure someone out there is going to be an Herbalist too. Maybe even a Magical Doctor or something— that’s a vocation, right?” She shrugged as she lay back down. “Veronica could get me those things if I need them. Or I could get it myself. But no one’s going to upgrade or repair my weapons for me whenever I need it. From a necessity perspective, Tinker is just better.”

[Affirmative.

Tinker – A basic craft specialised in item creation.

Trait Growth:

Strength: E+ to D-
Magic: D to D+
Endurance: E+ to E+
Vitality: E+ to E+
Dexterity: D to D

Skills Gained:

(F-) Tinker’s Mind – Your understanding of tools and how they are made is increased.

(F+) Upgraded Schematics – You can improve any tool that is of equivalent rank or below to the skill with the right materials once a week. Number of upgrades is increased as skill level increases.

(E-) Immersed Perception – You perceive time at double speed for up to ten minutes. Duration will increase for each skill level gained. Can be used once a day.

So, do you accept this craft?]

Trace shut her eyes and spoke a single word.

“Yes.”

And it was done.

Name: Trace Taylor

Race: Human (Earth A314)

Class: Adept Spellshot – Lvl 18

Vocation: Augur Architect – Lvl 10

Craft: Tinker – Lvl 1

Traits:

Strength: D-
Magic: D+
Endurance: E+
Vitality: E+
Dexterity: D

Skills:

Class Skills:
(F+) Magically Enhanced Accuracy – Lvl 13
(E-) Quick Fire – Lvl 9
(E) Recall Weapon – Lvl 8
(E+) Vulnerability Vision – Lvl 10
(E+) Last in the Chamber – Lvl 9
(D-) Mystic Bullets – Lvl 8

Vocation Skills:
(F) Hasty Design – Lvl 1
(E-) Magically Makeshift Materials – Lvl 1
(E) Silent Construction – Lvl 1
(E+) Restoration and Creation – Lvl 1
(D-) Architect’s Hand – Lvl 1

Craft Skills:
(F-) Tinker’s Mind – Lvl 1
(F+) Upgraded Schematics – Lvl 1
(E-) Immersed Perception – Lvl 1

“Alright, now can I sleep?”

[Negative.]

“What now?” Trace groaned.

[Nothing. It is simply fun annoying you.]

“You’re an actual child.” She went to sleep.

* * *

Trace woke up in the morning and went about her day. She readied herself to continue work on the commune’s wall, grabbing her bag of tools and slinging them over her shoulder. Before she left, she had two things to check. Firstly, Liz.

Her best friend had returned some time last night as evinced by the broken doorway. It was practically routine at this point; the redhead would fix up the door before leaving to work on the commune’s walls. Fortunately, this led to the second thing she had to do before leaving: testing her new skills.

Vocation Skills:
(F) Hasty Design – Lvl 1
(E-) Magically Makeshift Materials – Lvl 1
(E) Silent Construction – Lvl 1
(E+) Restoration and Creation – Lvl 1
(D-) Architect’s Hand – Lvl 1

Craft Skills:
(F-) Tinker’s Mind – Lvl 1
(F+) Upgraded Schematics – Lvl 1
(E-) Immersed Perception – Lvl 1

“Alright, let’s see what you can do… by that, I mean what I can do… or what these skills can do? …” Trace trailed off. Shrugging, she reached out for the broken wooden boards. “Whatever— Architect’s Hand.”

Just like magic— literally, magic— a large piece of wood flew up and towards the redhead. She caught it easily, grinning.

“So, it does work.” She dropped it, and the wood hovered there. More pieces of the wooden board flew to her, up to six of them. “Not bad for a level 1 skill. And I’m assuming it gets better as it levels, right?”

[Affirmative.]

“I wonder why it didn’t work for the glass of water?”

[That is due to the limits of the skill,] Ex said. [It can only move materials. I do not believe that a glass of water is considered a material.]

“Are you sure about that? I mean, there probably is some use for a glass of water in building things, right?”

[It is not a material, and believing hard enough does not change that fact.]

“Worth a shot.” Shrugging, she let the wooden pieces drop and started out the door. “Now, let’s see if Silent Construction works.”

[Are you not going to repair the doorway today, Trace Taylor?]

“Damn. Didn’t work. I can still hear that annoying guy in my head.”

[…]

Trace chuckled as she shook her head. “I was joking. And no, I’m not going to keep fixing that door. It’s not like anyone’s going to break in, anyways.”

[Is this what you humans call a ‘jinx’?]

“I’m not jinxing shit. I don’t believe that crap.”

[Didn’t you accuse Elizabeth Evergreen of jinxing you a week ago?]

“Erm…” She pursed her lips. “Look, I have other things to worry about. Like aliens and magic being real. Seriously— I’d have taken one or the other, not both at the same time. This is just fuck-y.”

The redhead continued down the streets of Liberapolis, reaching the under-construction wall a few blocks away. She stood there and admired the lack of sound seeping into her ears despite the ostensible loud banging of hammers happening before her. Someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around to face Jeremy.

“…” he said.

“Erm, give me a moment—” Like flipping a switch, she deactivated Silent Construction and rubbed at her ears. “Could you repeat that?”

“First time you’ve come in late,” he said, raising a brow. “Did something happen?”

“Oh, no, I’m fine. I just had to deal with… a thing, last night. But I have a craft now, so that’s quite nice.”

“Glad that you’re fine. I wasn’t complaining, of course. You’re always the first to arrive and the last to leave, so I was worried something happened to you.” Jeremy shook his head. “So, a craft, huh? Well, what is it?”

“I’m a Tinker. Still level 1 so its skills aren’t the greatest, but at least I can do—” She closed her eyes.

Immersed Perception.

When she opened them, everything moved faster. She chatted with Jeremy before continuing work on the wall. When ten minutes elapsed, she grinned and turned back to the man.

“This,” she finished.

He stared at her. “…what?”

“Erm, nothing.” Shuffling slightly, she looked away and spoke mentally to Ex. Did no one notice that but me?

[It affects only your perception, Trace Taylor.]

Not even you?

[Affirmative.]

Well, at least I can skip through boring things. It wasn’t like she completely ignored everything that happened— she still retained what she did and learned in those ten minutes. It simply felt like she was really immersed in what she was doing so time passed faster. It’d be really useful if I was still in school.

“What about this, then?” Trace said as she tried out another skill.

Jeremy gave her a puzzled look. “What about what?”

Restoration and Creation.

Now, she didn’t perceive things faster. She simply moved faster. Trace picked up her hammer and got to building, doing the same amount of work as five people at once. Jeremy stared at her as she kept up the pace for an hour.

He whistled. “Aren’t you tired at all?”

“I can probably keep this up for another eleven hours, I think.”

A small crowd had gathered behind her at this point, watching her quickly set up the scaffolding and covering it with a wooden plank.

“Wait, you’re not supposed to use wood there,” Stan said, folding his arms. He’d also taken a short break just to watch her.

“It’s fine, I have a skill. Lets me do that. Look— solid as bricks.” The redhead thumped a fist against its side. Then she flicked a finger and more wooden boards shot towards her. Magically Makeshift Materials and Architect’s Hand at work.

Meryl stared. She glanced over at Stan. “And she thought she wasn’t special.”

Trace flushed as the couple chuckled amongst themselves. Activating Silent Construction once more, she tried to ignore all the attention she was receiving. It only lasted for an hour, but by then most onlookers had gone back to work.

They made good progress on the wall thanks to the redhead. Her new skills as an Augur Architect really proved itself useful— especially when she noticed a few design flaws with Hasty Design in the middle of construction. She pointed it out to Jeremy and quickly offered amendments that would not only make it sturdier but speed up the building process.

When her twelve hours were finished, Trace was exhausted. She slumped into a chair, melting into a puddle of sweat. Jeremy handed her a cool bottle of water and pattered her on the shoulder.

“Good work today, Trace. Just don’t push yourself too hard.” He left with that, heading back to the police station and leaving her alone at the construction site.

She greedily suckled on the water bottle until it was empty. With a gasp, she sank into the chair and looked towards the sunset. The city beyond the commune was deserted— everyone had either moved out of the city or moved into the commune for safety at this point. Especially now that a wall was partially built…

Again, Trace didn’t think it would be that effective, but it served more as a symbol. Safety from the death that lurked beyond. A sanctuary. It only covered a portion of the commune for now. However, when it was finished, it’d girdle all of the commune. And that would ease the nerves of many. Return a sense of normalcy to the world.

She stood up. “That was a lot more tiring than usual.”

[In addition to the strain utilising aether puts on your body, skills such as Restoration and Creation would drain your endurance far more than any regular work would.]

“I hope Liz gets back early today— and I hope she brings back something good. I’m so bloody exhausted and hungry. I could eat a whole damn pig.” The redhead walked down the slowly darkening streets of Liberapolis for The Evergreen Gun Range.

[(F) Hasty Design has reached level 3!

(E-) Magically Makeshift Materials has reached level 2!

(E-) Immersed Perception has reached level 2!

(E) Silent Construction has reached level 2!

(E+) Restoration and Creation has reached level 3!

(D-) Architect’s Hand has reached level 3!

Augur Architect has reached level 11!

Tinker has reached level 2!]

Night came, and with it, it brought the chill-boned autumn winds that foreshadowed the coming of winter. A misty breath escaped Trace’s lips as she ambled down an intersection. There were no streetlights; the power grid was dead. The redhead would’ve been lost in the city’s network of uniform streets if she wasn’t already familiar with the roads of the area.

She arrived back at The Evergreen Gun Range, crunching over the splintered doorway and stumbling into the building. A lovely night of sleep awaited her. Her scarf fell to the ground as she yawned, searching for her best friend.

“Liz, you better be back—”

But all Trace found was a ransacked building. Her eyes widened as she saw the shattered glass, the broken chairs, and the emptied cupboards.

“…fuck, I jinxed it.”

[Told you.]

Killshot Apocalypse 26

Trace Taylor found The Evergreen Gun Range in a mess.

The front door lay broken… well, the front door was always broken thanks to Liz. But the rest of the building had been looted. The boarded-up windows were smashed open, and the furniture were left in pieces or raided of their belongings.

The redhead found the kitchen cupboards emptied— all the stored canned foods had been taken, of course.

“Fucking assholes!” she cursed at no one in particular.

The pots and pans and knives hadn’t been taken but were instead left scattered on the ground, because whoever looted the building didn’t have the decency to clean up after themselves.

It angered Trace— no, not the fact that they didn’t clean up after themselves. Instead, she was pissed off that the one time she didn’t barricade the doorway, a bunch of looters decided to pay a visit to the area.

They took everything of value and vandalised everything they couldn’t take; a classic case of psychopathic behaviour. Bastards just wanted to cause chaos.

“Fucking assholes!”

But the worst part was what Trace found deeper into The Evergreen Gun Range, in a room she had scarcely visited: the gun lockers.

They’d been pried open and robbed of what was within. Automatic rifles, semi-automatic rifles, and manual rifles. Rifles in general— anything that was not a sidearm. The ammunition, too, had been taken, much to Trace’s ire.

“Fucking arsholes!”

[And just earlier you reprimanded me about me repeating myself too often,] Ex said, amused.

“I only repeated myself twice. I said ‘arseholes’ the third time around.”

[What’s the difference?]

“Well, one of them means I’m only mildly irritated. The other means I’m pissed as fuck,” she explained before shaking her head. “Also, not the time, Ex.”

[Affirmative.] He stopped bothering her.

The second floor was only partially ransacked, fortunately enough. Her clothes littered the room, but most of her belongings survived this raid. She had the sense to hide it underneath the bedframe. Unfortunately, the bed was broken.

“I’ve just got to—” Trace blinked as she lifted up the bedframe. It was lighter than she thought it’d be. “Huh. I guess having D- in strength actually means something.” She grabbed her bag that was lodged between the mattress and the wooden frame and checked its contents. “Good, everything’s there.”

Her laptop, wallet, and keys were all kept neatly inside of the bag— although they were all pretty useless at this point. She also had a few notes, an old diary, and some printed pictures. Mostly personal belongings. There were only a few ‘practical’ items like two boxes of ammunition and...

“Wait, aren’t these the things I got from the Dungeon?” Trace held up a glinting red shard.

[Affirmative,] Ex said. [You procured a handful of useful items from the loot crates of the Dire Pits. You are currently holding a single aetheric shard.]

“What do these do? And what about the others?” she asked, and he began to list them all out.

[(G) Hand Tools – Tools used for repairing and crafting basic equipment.

(G) Potion Base – The base ingredient needed to make a potion.

(F-) Aetheric Shards – Bits of rock imbued with aether.

(F) Reinforced Iron Scraps – Remnants of iron ingot enchanted for durability.

(D-) Shot Amplifier - Increases the kinetic energy of bullets by 3 times.]

“Oh. This is…”

She picked up the last item. It was an attachment for a gun— a kind of elongated cylindrical object you connected to the barrel of a pistol or rifle. The last time Trace tried to use it, she didn’t meet the requirements. Now, though—

“My Magic is D+ after evolving my vocation and getting a craft. And the Shot Amplifier only requires a D- in Magic to be used.” She tightly gripped the attachment. “Good. Now I can make those bastards who ransacked this place pay three times more than before.”

Her eyes flickered to the reinforced iron scraps and aetheric shards. It called to her. Tinker’s Mind told her that those items could be used to upgrade her weapon— create magical bullets. But before she could formulate anything concrete in her mind, she heard a loud thud from below.

Liz? For a second, Trace thought her best friend had returned. But if Liz had really come back, she’d be cursing up a storm at seeing the state of her house. Probably not Liz, then. Who could it be?

A few possible individuals came to mind. Trace hoped it was Adair or Veronica or Jeremy. Maybe even a random homeless man looking for shelter. But all she could think of was a far more sinister individual— someone who came with malicious intent.

Someone who’d already come with malicious intent.

The looters. Trace gritted her teeth. Are they seriously back for more? She drew her weapon and attached the Shot Amplifier. Well, this time, they’ll get more than what they asked for.

She started down the stairs, ready to chase these looters out by any means necessary. There was a creeping feeling of dread— one that feared what would happen if they overpowered her here. But she remembered what Meryl and Stan said about her; she would hold her own with ease.

A figure stood just outside the kitchen, dark and shadowed under the cloak of the night. They peered into the shooting area of The Evergreen Gun Range, a sharp object in hand. Trace heard the crinkle of boots on glass shards as they took a step, and she decided to take action.

With a shout, she burst out of the stairway and aimed her weapon at the figure.

“Stop right there, you bastard,” she warned. “I’ll blow your bloody head off if you try anything!”

They halted and raised their hands in the air. Nodding, the redhead waved her weapon towards the front door.

“Good, now if you just get the fuck out of—”

The figure leaned forward. “Trace?” a familiar voice said.

“Ken?” She blinked, and the man stepped forward into the moonlight. “Wait, what are you doing here?” Then her eyes narrowed. “Were you the one who robbed us?”

* * *

As it turned out, Ken wasn’t there to loot The Evergreen Gun Range. Of course he wasn’t. He was Trace’s… friend? Or acquaintance. Together with Liz, Kat, and Jakob, they’d beaten the Dire Pits together and killed a literal Worldeater, so Trace believed him when he said he wasn’t there with any malicious intent.

“Liz told me this was where she lived,” he explained, gesturing towards the front door. “I hadn’t heard from her in days. And since we were done with the Dungeon for today, I decided to check up on her.”

“I see. Well, she should be coming back some time in the next…” Trace turned to a nearby clock. It was broken. “Erm, I don’t know… next few minutes or next few hours?”

Sighing, he placed a hand on his chest. “That’s a relief. I feared the worst when I arrived. I thought something bad had happened.”

“Something bad’s going to happen to whoever did this.” The redhead crossed her arms with a huff.

Ken raised a brow and peered at her. She shifted slightly.

“What? …”

“Nothing. I just didn’t take you for the violent-type.”

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about me—” Trace started, but was cut off by a shout from outside the building.

“Oh my god!” A black-haired woman stormed in, drawing her gleaming Obsidian Longsword. Elizabeth Evergreen glared around the room. “Who the fuck did this to my home?!”

The redhead gestured at her best friend. “There you go. Liz is back.”

They explained the situation to Liz, and… well, she was pissed. Her anger wasn’t abated even when she found that her belongings were left mostly untouched.

“If I get my hands on these jerks who did this…” she said as she ground her teeth.

“Y’know, it sounds a lot less threatening when you’re calling them ‘jerks’ instead of ‘assholes’ or ‘fuckers’.”

Liz shot a glared at Trace, and the redhead shrugged.

“I’m with you, but I’m just saying…”

“I can’t believe this!” She kicked what was left of a chair and paused. Her eyes landed on something lying face-flat on the ground. Liz picked it up, eyes growing wide. “This is…”

It was a picture frame. The glass exterior was shattered, and the photograph within was slightly crumpled. It showed a black-haired man and a black-haired woman standing next to each other in front of a newly-furbished building. Together, they held an infant— no more than five months of age— up towards a sign saying, “Grand Opening of The Evergreen Gun Range.”

Liz snapped her eyes like a tightening fist. “I swear to god, I will literally… ugh!”

Trace couldn’t help but empathise with her best friend. She remembered visiting The Evergreen Gun Range as young as ten years old— it was like a second home to her.

“Come on, you’re probably tired. I am, too. Let’s just rest for now,” the redhead said, placing a hand on Liz’s shoulder. “Tomorrow, we’ll sort this out, alright?”

Liz met her gaze. “Fine,” she eventually sighed. Then she glanced over at the man to her left. “But, uh, what about Ken?”

They both faced him. He raised his hands. “I don’t want to intrude. I can find another place to stay for tonight.”

“Don’t be like that,” the redhead said, rolling her eyes. “It’s just for one night— and you could help us find the fuckers who did this tomorrow.” She paused and looked over at the broken doorway. “But first, I’ll have to fix that door… again.”

[(F) Hasty Design has reached level 4!

(E-) Magically Makeshift Materials has reached level 3!]

* * *

Morning came, and Liz stared at the front door with an impressed expression on her face. “Why couldn’t you have done this earlier?”

“I only thought of it last night, thanks to my new skills as an Augur Architect. Now, you don’t have to smash it open every single time you leave.” Trace gestured at the new and improved doorway— it had multiple reinforced wooden bars that would shut when the door was closed, with a special key that could unlock it from the other side.

It was complex and it was only possible thanks to Hasty Design and Magically Makeshift Materials. The former was necessary to even think it up in the first place, and the latter was what made it possible. Also, Magically Makeshift Materials enhanced the strength of the wood and metal she used so it wouldn’t break as easily as before. That would help keep out looters… maybe.

“Alright, now to break some kneecaps. And maybe some faces too.” Liz was the first out of The Evergreen Gun Range, followed by Ken and Trace.

The redhead looked around the street; it was mostly empty apart from a few individuals, which was surprising since it was still the crack of dawn. The sun hadn’t even fully broken past the horizon yet. Some sense of normalcy might’ve been returning now thanks to the commune.

“So, does anyone have any ideas who could’ve done this?” Trace asked. “Made any enemies while you were out, Liz? Notice anyone sneaking away while you were on your way here, Ken?”

Liz shrugged. “Nope. Not unless some dumb monster decided to rob us.”

“Unfortunately, I did not spot anyone leaving the scene when I entered last night,” he said apologetically. “However, I have heard that the Precursors of Peace are gathering downtown. From what I’ve heard about them— and this is purely based on rumours, as I have never dealt or encountered them— they are a wild bunch.”

Trace frowned. If Sam was the one who did this, I will… her thoughts trailed off. Well, she wouldn’t have kind words to impart, to say the least. “Let’s just find them and speak to them before coming to any conclusions.”

And by a stroke of luck, they didn’t have to go far to find the group. Because Trace heard a familiar Brooklyn accent just two streets down from The Evergreen Gun Range.

“Scared? Afraid? Too bad for all of ya, cause this ain’t tha end of the… end o’ tha world.”

“Good job, bro. Really have a way with words, don’t you?”

“Oh, shuddup!”

Jackie and Nathan stood in the middle of an intersection right at the edge of the commune. Sam and Darius weren’t there— it was just the two idiots. They were surrounded by a small crowd of curious men and women who stopped to listen to their speech. The girl shoved her friend aside as she stepped forward and raised her sledgehammer.

“Am I the only one scared about all this, or what?” she said, shaking her head. “Everything’s going ta shit and all yer loved ones are probably going to die. Playing city ain’t gonna change nothin’ bout that.”

A susurration swept over the onlookers as Trace, Liz, and Ken made their approach. Jackie continued her speech.

“We haveta adapt— we haveta evolve. And if ya join the Precursors of Peace, we’ll do exactly that. We’ll give ya food and shelter and a bunch’o other stuff! We’ll protect yer friends and family and restore order back into this mad world!”

The redhead heard murmurs of agreement amongst a few people in the crowd. It was only a gathering of twenty-or-so people, but what Jackie said seemed to resonate with nearly half of them. The other half were dubious or apathetic to it, which resulted in some discourse and arguments breaking out.

“…or something,” Jackie finished under her breath, although only Trace caught that.

“So, the Precursors of Peace are trying to recruit members from the commune, huh?” Liz said as the arguments seemed to simmer down.

“Wait, that doesn’t make any sense.” Trace placed a hand on her chin, frowning. “If they’re trying to get people from the commune on their side, they wouldn’t possibly rob from the commune, would they?” Although, to be fair, they did appear to be led by idiots. The redhead’s eyes flickered as she caught Jackie and Nathan arguing over the speech.

“Why don’t we just ask them?” Liz suggested.

Trace stared at her, and she blinked.

“What?”

The redhead remembered when she was hiding from the durable serpentfiend with Adair and Liz— how they found a house, ransacked with the family living in it murdered. Shortly after that, they ran into the Precursors of Peace. They denied all allegations after, but Trace was still suspicious. Now, more so than ever.

“Nothing. Sure, why not?” she said with a shrug. “Not like they’d lie or anything.”

Before they could approach the pair, Trace heard the revving of a bike roar its way down the street. Heads turned to face down the road. From afar, the redhead could see a plume of black rising over the brick buildings as a shadow shot its way towards them.

“What is? …”

A man was riding in on a motorbike, going at over a hundred kilometres per hour towards the crowd. Trace’s eyes widened as she realised what was going on.

“Everyone, get out of the—”

But it was too late. A family of four tried to scatter out of the way just as the speeding bike reached them. Trace reached out in a panic, not sure if she could even do anything to save them at that point. But before the bike could crash into them, the biker produced a black leather handle.

He snapped it at the air like he was using a fishing rod, and a red line flickered to life from its end. A rope made of flames whipped out, tangling itself over a lamp post before he collided with the family. With that, he swerved out of the way just in time and began to speed in circles around the crowd. He sped up and left doughnut-shaped skid-marks on the tarmac, screeching a challenge as if his bike’s tires were about to combust. Then he leapt off.

“Precursors!” he shouted, flipping through the air.

His bike tumbled into a building as his flaming whip retracted into its handle.

“You guys are going down,” he made the declaration as he landed on the ground.

The man landed right before Jackie and Nathan, knees bent and a single hand catching the ground. His bag rattled as black barrels poked out of the top. Trace narrowed her eyes. Are those… rifles? Something clicked inside of her as he straightened.

He wore a motorcycle helmet with a skull painted over its visor, and he snapped his head up to face the pair. This menacing look struck them straight into their bones— it caught the entire crowd in fear, forcing them to tense up and ready themselves for what was happening next.

It was a challenge. One that would end with blood. One that would end with death.

Trace blinked at that. “The fuck is wrong with this guy?”

Killshot Apocalypse 27

[Duelist – Lvl. 16.]

Trace Taylor stared at the biker standing before her. He had a black leather jacket with spikes jutting out of the shoulders, a shoulder-slung bag with the barrel of two rifles peeking out towards the sky, and an inconspicuous handle that created a flaming fucking whip.

It was utterly ridiculous. Trace thought it was completely and totally insane. However, Elizabeth Evergreen thought otherwise.

“Yo, he’s got that drip! That outfit is straight fire!”

“Liz, seriously?” The redhead turned to her best friend in disbelief.

The sable-tressed woman shrugged. “What? I think he looks cool. You think he looks cool, right Ken?”

“I have no comment,” Ken said from behind.

The skull on the biker’s helmet bore into the Precursors of Peace as he got to his feet. He snapped the handle into the air, and a thin string of flames whipped into existence.

What the hell is that?

[I am uncertain,] Ex said. [However, it appears to be some kind of magical weapon that creates a flaming whip when provided with vytal.]

And how the fuck did he get that?

[Probably a Dungeon.]

Oh, right.

Jackie and Nathan tensed as the biker edged forward. He had issued a challenge to them, and Trace wasn’t sure what would happen next. Were they going to battle it out here? Why was he even doing this?

Liz didn’t have any questions. Instead, she grinned. “I’ve got money on the biker. Sure, they’re around the same level. But that outfit is, like, a plus ten to intimidation or something.”

“First of all, intimidation is not a stat or a skill,” Trace said as she rolled her eyes. “Second of all, I don’t think you should be rooting for him, considering that he’s the one who robbed our home.”

“Wait, he is?”

“Probably? I mean, someone just looted all our rifles, and now this guy rolls up with a pair of rifles sticking out of his bag.”

“It could be a coincidence.” Liz didn’t look convinced.

Trace suppressed the urge to sigh. “Well, why don’t you just ask him?”

“Sure,” her best friend said and glanced at the biker. “Hey you!”

“I was being sarcastic—”

“Where did you get those guns?”

The biker looked over at Liz dismissively. “I stole them. Why?”

She squinted at him. “And where did you steal them from?”

“Some shop called The Foreverblue Gun Range or some other dumb name like that,” he answered simply.

“I see.” Her voice lost its casual cadence, and she reached for her Obsidian Longsword.

“Erm, Liz? …” Trace glanced at her best friend with uncertainty.

The biker shook his head, cracking his fiery whip on the ground. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have some precursors to kill.”

“Wait, kill?” Nathan blinked. “Bro, not cool.”

Jacked backed up and raised her sledgehammer. “Nathan, are ya gonna keep standing there, or what? Call your dogs!”

“I left them back at the kennel!”

“You what?” She stared at him, aghast. “Do I haveta deal with this dude all by myself?”

“Yeah bro, you got this.” He stepped to the side and ushered her forward.

A terrible cackle— as in, forced, not intimidating— came from the biker as he slowly approached them. He took long, exaggerated steps as he snapped his whip around.

“Oh, both of you will get what’s coming for you,” he said in a threatening voice. “When I—”

Clonk!

“Ark!” The biker fell over, clutching the back of his head.

Trace blinked as Liz stood over him and raised an angry fist. The sable-tressed woman hauled him back to his feet and ripped his helmet off as he squeaked.

“W-wait, I have no quarrel with you, oddly-terrifying woman!” He struggled, kicking and pushing at Liz. She didn’t let go. Her furious gaze bore into him, and color vanished from his face. “I’m here to duel the Precursors!”

“You ransacked my home…” Liz caught his arm as he tried to swing his whip at her. Her death-grip crushed his forearm, forcing him to drop his weapon.

His eyes widened. “That was… not me?”

“You fucking jerk!”

Liz struck him across the face, hard. His head snapped back and he fell unconscious to the ground with a heavy thud. Trace sighed as the onlookers gaped at that.

“Well, that was a thing,” the redhead said.

Ken quirked a brow. “Remind me never to get on her bad side.”

* * *

Someone alerted the police, and not long after, Veronica Vargas and her partner arrived on the scene.

“This man raided your home?” she asked Liz and Trace.

“Yeah. And he tried to attack those two idiots over there too.” The redhead gestured at Jackie and Nathan as they poked the unconscious man like a pair of curious children.

“I see. We’ll take him in for some questioning. Keep him locked up so he doesn’t stir up more trouble. But…” Veronica’s eyes darted over to the biker.

He was far less intimidating without his helmet. Middle-aged, balding, and a little bit too scrawny. The only thing that was even remotely intimidating about his entire appearance— besides looking like he lurked around playgrounds while pretending to be a parent— was the black dagger tattooed on his left cheek.

“I’m worried that he might not be alone,” she finished.

“What do you mean?” Liz placed her hands on her hips. “You think he’s part of a gang?”

“He is,” Ken said, stepping into the conversation.

Trace glanced over at him, raising a brow. “How do you know that?”

“That tattoo on his face… he’s part of the Onyx Lair Crew.”

“What kind of a cringe arse name is that?” she snorted.

“The Onyx Lair is the Dungeon which earned them their notoriety,” he explained. “They’re well-known amongst Dungeon delvers like us.”

Liz shrugged. “Never heard of them before.”

“I told you about them the last time we spoke, Liz.”

“Oh yeah, you did. I forgot.”

“They employ different tactics than other Dungeon delvers. They set up traps not for monsters, but for people. They invite new delvers to join their parties, only to betray and kill them in their sleep. All for loot and levels.”

Trace’s brows snapped together. “So, they’re a gang?”

“I’d rather call them bandits because of how they operate, but yes, they’re a gang of murderers and thieves and crooks. You’ve got to be careful too, since they’re all quite high-levelled. You caught him off guard, Liz— if you didn’t, he might’ve seriously hurt you.”

“That’s cap.” Liz crossed her arms.

“He was trying to attack the Precursors of Peace,” Veronica said, placing a hand on her chin. “Do you know why?”

“Not sure. Honestly, that’s all I know about them. I have been fortunate enough to avoid running into them until now. I’d rather not involve myself any further.” Ken shook his head apologetically. “If you want to know more, you’ll have to ask the Precursors of Peace yourself.”

“Thank you for your help.”

With that, Ken took his leave, and Veronica moved to interrogate Jackie and Nathan. As expected, the dumbass duo didn’t know shit.

“Ya expect us to know ‘bout these shmucks?” Jackie rolled her eyes.

“Bro, that’s such a lame name,” Nathan added from the side.

Trace muttered under her breath, “Coming from the both of you, that’s rich.”

“I know neither of you are part of the commune,” Veronica said. “However, if you guys see anything or hear anything about the Onyx Lair Crew, try and keep us informed please?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Jackie waved a hand off as she left. Nathan followed, and it was just Trace, Liz, Veronica, and Jeremy with the unconscious biker.

They brought the man back to the police station at the centre of the commune. He woke up just as he was thrown into a cell reinforced by Veronica’s skill, so she began his interrogation then. Meanwhile, Liz was stopped at the lobby by Brandon.

His eyes widened as he saw her. “Liz? Is that you?”

“Oh my god, Brandon? It’s been so long!”

They shook hands, and Brandon grunted. “Woah, you’ve gotten strong since we last met. Is this because of your class, or have you been lifting weights?”

She laughed. “It’s my class. I’m a Swordsmaiden, so my strength is pretty high!”

Trace let them catch up, opting to finally take a look at the loot she acquired from the Dire Pits.

Alright, so I have hand tools, a potion base, some aetheric shards, and a couple of reinforced iron scraps.

[Affirmative], Ex said.

I see. She laid all the items on a table, inspecting them, toying with them. A few minutes passed, and she felt like it’d barely been a moment since she started figuring out what to do with them. The only reason she looked up to check the time was because a figure walked up to her.

Adair Russell greeted her with a nod. “Trace Taylor. I have been briefed on the situation by Jeremy. It appears that our commune is starting to garner a numerable sum of new, uncouth neighbours by the day.”

“Oh, mm?” she mumbled as she used a needle to pick at an aetheric shard. “Yeah, that’s annoying.”

“Are those aetheric shards, I see? Ah, you’ve obtained some trinkets to work with.” He peered over her shoulder at the glinting red stone.

“Mhm.” Trace polished the surface of the aetheric shard with one of the hand tools. “I’m using my craft.”

“Your craft?”

“Recently got it. I’m a Tinker now, I guess. I can make stuff. Don’t really know how, but I know things now.”

[It is due to the nature of your craft—]

“Didn’t ask for an explanation, Ex,” she said, scoffing.

“Ex?” Adair frowned.

“Oh, erm,”— she flushed—“that’s my AI.”

“Ah, a sort of pet name, then. I have not given RQ33 a designation such as that— perhaps I should.”

“Yeah. Anyways, thanks to a skill, Tinker’s Mind, I know exactly what to do with my hand tools now. If I combine a small aetheric shard with an iron scrap and just chip off the corner here—”

Trace stopped talking as she focused entirely on what she was doing. Adair silently watched her delicately carve the side of the metal.

“Done,” she finished.

“And what is this supposed to be?”

“An aetheric bullet.” The redhead held up the shimmering cylindrical-shaped piece of metal. “Or it’s supposed to be one. What do you think, Ex?”

[I cannot ascertain the quality of your work, Trace Taylor. You will have to test it out to determine whether it is usable.]

“And what if it blows up on me?”

[What if it does?] Ex said, uncaring.

“Oh, piss off.”

Adair stared at her as she held this conversation with her head. “You know, I am starting to question the sanity of your person, Trace Taylor. Talking with yourself is not something the layperson does.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t act like everyone doesn’t do it.”

He continued to stare at her.

“Wait, you do it too, right? I can’t be the only one who does that, right?” Trace furrowed her brows. “Hey, wait, you did it when you broke into—”

The door opened before she could finish, and Veronica entered  the room. Adair quickly glanced over at her, speaking over Trace. “Ah, you’re back. How’d the interrogation go?”

The redhead scowled as Veronica answered, “Not well. In addition to everything Ken told us, I pretty much only learned his name and age. It’s Kay, by the way, and he’s thirty-five years old.”

“Was that really it?” Trace blinked.

“That,” Veronica said, “and he keeps saying that Janus will save him. That Janus will make us pay for assaulting and kidnapping him.”

Liz leant back from where she sat, snickering. “That’s dumb. Cops can’t kidnap people.”

“Who the hell is Janus, anyways?” the redhead asked the glaring question.

“From what I can gather, Janus is probably the leader of the Onyx Lair Crew—” Veronica started before an explosion resounded from outside followed by rowdy shouts. She glanced out the window at the bikes circling the road as they spewed out smoke. “And… he’s here.”

Killshot Apocalypse 28

Who the hell was Janus?

Trace Taylor could infer that he was the boss of the Onyx Lair Crew. But she really wanted to know who exactly he was and what exactly he looked like, especially since he and his crew were wrecking the commune right now.

A dozen men rode through the city’s streets, their bikes roaring out puffs of black gas and blanketing the air. They hurled fireballs and tossed Molotov’s into buildings, setting buildings ablaze as they laughed madly to themselves.

The redhead was aghast. “The fuck are they doing?”

[Seems like they’re trying to burn down the commune,] Ex answered.

That was a rhetorical question. Trace scowled and grabbed her gun. “We can’t let them do this.”

Veronica ran past the two as other police officers followed her. “Trace, Liz, we need your help with apprehending—”

“Got it.” Elizabeth Evergreen grinned and drew her blade before the police chief got any further. “You know what they’re doing, Trace? They’re about to get their asses kicked. Come on!” She dashed out into the street as the bikers continued their attack.

Trace followed her best friend chasing after one of the Onyx Lair Crew members on a bike. The biker turned to face them and revved his engine. He held up a chain which he swung over his head before speeding their way.

“Move, bitch, get out—”

The redhead whipped out her pistol and fired a single shot. It struck his tire, bursting it, and sending him flying into the air. His bike skidded with a soft screech to a halt as he landed next to the pair.

He tried to get back up, reaching for his chain. But Liz stomped on his arm before he could grab it. The man squeaked. “Hngh—”

“You were saying?” She smirked.

“I said, you’re a b—”

Trace struck him in the back of the head, knocking him out. “Don’t waste your time talking to these arseholes. There are more of them we have to deal with.”

Liz deflated. “Aw, but I wanted to make him eat his words.”

Another bike came at them, but this one was being ridden by two people. One of them— the one at the back— was a Spellcaster of sorts. He created a sphere of embers. One that bubbled into existence and simmered with a heat that could melt even concrete. He tossed it at them—

And Trace shot it midair. The fireball exploded, raining down sparks onto the pavement.

“How’d you know that’d work?” Liz blinked.

“I hoped it would. Now move!” The redhead leapt to the side as the bike rode in between her and her best friend.

The driver swung an axe at them, barely whizzing by their heads. Liz ducked under it and grabbed for the Spellcaster at the back. With a yank, she pulled him off the bike and slammed him onto the pavement. He jerked, groaning as he coiled into a ball.

Meanwhile, Trace fired two shots at the bike. The driver hopped off it, cursing at her before she shot his kneecaps out. He screamed and grasped the wound.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you do that?”

Trace blinked. “You’re… erm… killing people?”

“I only did that because you kidnapped one of our buddies!” he shouted.

The redhead exchanged a glance with her best friend.

“Don’t look at me,” Liz said. “Dude’s just nuts.”

“Bloody bellend.” Trace pistol-whipped him, and he fell with a thud.

That was three down. Jeremy noticed the unconscious bikers and quickly got to work apprehending them. There were still more— at least a dozen of them had come in, riding and burning things down. Now, there were half a dozen of them left. The others had been caught by Veronica or Adair or the other officers.

The six remaining bikers rode in a circle, following the lead bike which was, for whatever reason, larger than theirs with long spike-like protrusions coming out from its sides. Flames shot out from its exhaust as it came to a stop. The man riding was short and stubby— small in comparison to the size of his bike.

[Berserker – Lvl 19.]

“So, you must be Janus,” Veronica said, approaching him.

“Heh, that sounds like anus.” Liz snickered.

Janus narrowed his eyes. He ignored the comment, instead folding his arms. “I see my reputation precedes me.” Somehow, even though he was half a foot shorter than her, he managed to look down on her. “That’s good. That’ll make this easier.”

Veronica raised a brow. “Make this easier?”

“Return my men to me, or we’ll burn your little commune to the ground,” he declared.

His words swept over the onlookers like a strong gale. It nearly knocked Trace off her feet. She couldn’t help but sputter at the ridiculousness of that statement.

“Are you fucking with us right now?” she said. She gestured at the unconscious and apprehended men. “We literally just kicked your arses. I know you have a complex, considering…” Her eyes flickered to his bike, and he frowned. “But don’t be a moron.”

“Excuse me, does this dog talk for you?” He glanced dismissively at the redhead.

“Oh, you fucking shitheel. Did you just call me a bitch?” She stepped forward, snarling. “If I’m a dog, you’re about to be dog food.”

Liz made a face of disgust. “Gross.”

“It’s a metaphor, Liz.”

“I know, but considering that his name sounds like… you know…”

“Oh, right. Yuck.”

Janus was not amused. “This is not a laughing matter. This is a threat. Did you really think I brought all my men with me here today?”

Veronica nodded. “I am aware. And if you think we’ll just let you get away with that, you must be mistaken.” She reached for her handcuffs and her pistol.

He sighed. “Very well. Then you shall all die.”

And she lunged for him. Everyone else burst into action too. But before the police chief could grab Janus, one of the bikers— a woman— raised her arms. A flash of light splashed over Trace. It was like she’d just been dipped into salt water, and she couldn’t open her eyes for a moment. When she could finally see again, she saw smoke billowing up and shrouding the road.

Trace coughed as the streets were blotted out. All she could hear was the revving of engines as the bikes drove off, leaving the commune for now.

“Ass,” she muttered, and Liz snickered.

“I get it. It’s because his name sounds like anus.”

[(F+) Magically Enhanced Accuracy has reached level 14!

(E-) Quick Fire has reached level 10!

(D-) Mystic Bullets has reached level 9!]

* * *

With the Onyx Lair Crew gone, Veronica was tasked with cleaning up the mess left behind. Fortunately, even if there was no fire department, there were Spellcasters. Citizens of the commune pooled together their magic to put out the flames. A few buildings had been burned down, which would be problematic. But the biggest worry on Trace’s mind were the casualties.

A total of a hundred people had been injured in the sudden attack. Not only that, but nearly a dozen were dead, with nearly just half many in a dire state. She simply was forced to watch as a girl clung to her mother, bawling as the woman was put on life support.

Unlike with the actual attack, Trace couldn’t do anything here. Or… could she? She remembered one of the items she got from the Dire Pits.

“Adair,” she said, walking up to the man.

He was tending to a minor scratch on his leg, wrapping it up with a gauze. “Is something the matter, Trace Taylor?”

“Do you know anything about making potions?”

“Potions?”

“I have a potion base,” she explained and produced a bottle. It had a glowing blue liquid inside of it. One which she hadn’t had the time to study just yet. It seemed to exude a soft warmth that didn’t actually touch her skin— different kind of radiance from anything she ever felt before. “Is there anything I can do with it? Maybe make some kind of potion that heals people?”

“Alas, as much as I wish to help you, I know nothing about potion brewing.” He shook his head apologetically. “You’ll have to seek out an Alchemist. It’s a craft that would very much help one with concocting such solutions.”

Trace tapped a finger on her chin. “Hm. And what’s your craft?”

“As of right now, I am undecided. Actually, I just hit level 10 in my vocation, so I was about to choose one.”

“Become an Alchemist, then,” she said simply.

“Uh, pardon?”

“I said, become an Alchemist.” She shoved the potion base at him. “Help me make a potion that can heal wounds and injuries.”

“I believe I require more deliberation to choose an optimal craft, Trace Taylor. To make such a hasty decision—”

“Look, right now people are dying in the other room, and you can do something to help them. You wanted to help out the commune, right? You can prove it right here.”

He was still uncertain. His eyes darted over to the doorway as he pursed his lips. “I…”

“Please.” She gave him a pleading look.

Another beat passed before he eventually acquiesced. “Very well,” he sighed. He got to his feet as his eyes flickered for a moment. “There.”

“It’s done?”

“I am now an Alchemist, yes.” His brows creased as he tapped a finger on his chin.

“Can you make something with the potion base?”

“I can… create a kind of healing ointment,” he said slowly. “However, I’ll need a few additional ingredients—” He gave her a list, and she quickly went to fetch what he asked for.

When she returned, she found Adair working with a makeshift fireplace fueled by his magic. He was boiling the potion base, and he smiled when she handed over the ingredients.

“Thank you.”

“Is this really all you need?” she asked, peering over his shoulders. “I’d have thought you’d require something… I don’t know, magical or from a Dungeon. Maybe monster parts, too. But these are mundane items you can find in a store.”

“It’s not these ingredients that’s important, Trace Taylor,” he explained as he worked. “And if you’d given me more advanced ingredients, I probably wouldn’t be able to make use of them at my craft’s level. What’s important is what I do with the ingredients.”

“And what do you do with them?”

“I infuse each with magic.” He held up his finger as a red glow overcame it.

Trace watched as he somehow pushed his aether into each of the ingredients before crushing them and mixing it in the potion base. The blue of the liquid changed, molding into a darker hue of red. It wasn’t really a liquid either any longer, but more of a sticky texture.

“Is that it?”

“Indeed,” Adair said, drawing back. He held up the bottle as it glinted like a jar of glittering fireflies that sparkled in the night. “Hopefully it will help those in critical conditions. I am not sure if it will cure them from their injuries fully, but it will at least be enough to save them when drank.”

“Oh, you have to drink it?” Trace’s face twisted in disgust.

“Worry not, it probably tastes better than a cough drop.”

She smiled at him. “Thanks for this, Adair,” she said. Then she shifted slightly. “And sorry for forcing you to take this craft.”

“It is no matter,”— he waved a hand dismissively—“I was being indecisive, anyway.”

They both headed for the room full of the injured. Adair led the way, and Trace followed. But before the redhead could reach the door, someone stopped her.

“Hey, Trace,” Jeremy called out to her as Adair entered the room without her.

She halted, and the door closed. “Yeah?”

“Someone is here to see you. He says that you guys are friends.”

Her eyes widened. Is it Mom and Dad? … She bit her lower lip. “I… just show them inside. Tell them I’m busy and I’ll be with them in a minute.”

“Oh, it’s just one person,” the policeman said. “And I’d let them in, but… well, problem is, he’s with the Precursors of Peace.”

Killshot Apocalypse 29

“I thought it’d be you,” Trace Taylor said as she saw the man standing outside of the police station.

Samuel Diaz gave her a winning smile. “Aw, I thought you’d be glad to see me.”

“What do you want?” she asked in a flat voice. “I don’t know if you can tell, but we’re pretty busy right now.”

“With the Onyx Lair Crew, right?”

Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know about that?”

“I hear things,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m part of the Precursors of Peace, remember? And I’m kind of important, too.”

Trace gave him a dubious look, and he laughed.

“Don’t give me that face. It’s like you don’t believe I’m a big deal!”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you. I believe you entirely. Which is why I’m suspicious.”

He rolled his eyes as he curled his brown hair back. “Right, you don’t trust us. Well, if you want to know what I’m up to, I’ve heard about your commune’s recent problems, which is exactly why I’m here.”

“Our problems have run off. Turned tails because they’re a bunch of fucking murdering cowards. Don’t know when they’ll return.” Trace scowled.

Sam nodded. “And no one knows where they’re hiding. Except for me, and the rest of the Precursors of Peace.”

She blinked, and he shot her a grin.

“I’ll explain more. But it’s cold out here.” He shifted and gestured past her. “So, can we talk inside?”

The redhead hesitated. She knew that Adair didn’t like the Precursors, however Sam was willing to offer his help. As long as the two didn’t meet, it’d be fine, right?

“Fine,” she said. “C’mon. I’m freezing too.”

* * *

“So, those bastards are targeting your members too?” Trace placed a hand on her chin as Sam finished his explanation.

“They are. They’ve already killed six of our members before they’ve even arrived at the Sanctuary. And they targeted five more of our guys today alone. You were there for one of the attacks.” He gave her a knowing look.

“That Duelist… he attacked Jackie and Nathan.” She frowned. “Is that why you’re doing this? Revenge for the attack against them?”

“If it was just Nathan and Jackie affected, I would personally go up to them and shake their hands,” he snorted.

“Aren’t you guys friends?”

“You’re assuming a lot here.”

The redhead scoffed and leant back on the sofa. A coffee table with two steaming mugs separated her from Sam. He grabbed one of the mugs and inspected it curiously.

“Wait, is this an actual espresso?”

“Yeah. Brandon got a single coffee machine to work. One of his tests with aether and energy or something.” She pushed her cup towards Sam. “I don’t drink coffee, though. You can have it.”

He sipped from it and his eyes grew wide. “Who made this? This is absolutely terrible.”

“Erm, I did? …”

“Oh.” A beat passed where he stared down at the cup. “Terribly good! This is the most delicious espresso I’ve ever had!”

Trace just sighed. “Fuck off with that crap. Just get to the point— how can you help us?”

“The Onyx Lair Crew must be stopped. They can’t just continue attacking us. So, I think we should work together to stop them, before more people are hurt.”

“You said you knew where they were hiding, right?”

“We’ve tracked down their lair, as they call it,” Sam explained. “Or their hideout. I can help lead you to them.”

“And why not just deal with them yourselves?” Trace studied the creases on his face— the subtle way his expression changed as she asked the question. She didn’t notice anything suspicious. “You guys are the Precursors of Peace, aren’t you? Can’t you deal with them yourselves?”

“We are, and we could. But we also, sort of, kind of…” He hesitated. Scratching the back of his head, he sighed. “Not all of us have gathered here yet. The highest-levelled members right now are myself and… my friends.”

“Those idiots.”

“Yeah, them.”

“Jackie and Nathan refuse to fight them. They must’ve been spooked by their attacker. Meanwhile, Darius is still recovering. He can’t fight just yet, and he shouldn’t.”

Trace crossed her arms, pointing out the obvious. “So, you’re here to help yourself, then.”

“It’s a mutually beneficial thing— it helps us both.” Sam smiled and took a sip from his mug. He coughed and placed the mug down, speaking as he grimaced. “That’s… ugh…” She stared at him, and he quickly straightened. “What do you say, Trace?”

She drummed her fingers on her elbow, mulling it over. “That’s—”

And the door down the hallway flew open. Veronica Vargas wiped at her forehead, an exhausted look on her face as she glanced over at the redhead. “Trace?” Her eyes flickered to Sam. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, I’m—”

“This is Sam,” Trace said, cutting him off. “He’s a friend. The one I told you about. And as for your question, Sam. That’s for her to decide.” She gestured at Veronica. “Not me.”

The police chief frowned. And they explained.

* * *

“Rooting out the problem certainly is a better idea than waiting around for the problem to come to us,” Veronica said, nodding slowly. “However, these aren’t just monsters we’re dealing with. They’re people— gang members— which makes them that much more dangerous.”

“Don’t forget, they stole our guns too.” At some point, Elizabeth Evergreen joined in on the conversation. She lay on the sofa the wrong side up, with her legs on the headrest, and her head next to the coffee table. “So, they’ll be packing some heat.”

“What should we do, then?” Trace asked as she eyed her best friend.

Sam shrugged. “I’ve given you my offer.”

“And I was talking to Liz.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’d like to make those jerks pay for, you know, ransacking my home.” Liz sat up, speaking casually. “If we’re going to do this, I’m in.”

Veronica pursed her lips. “It will be dangerous, but I believe it’s the best course of action,” she said. “Jeremy can bring a few officers to accompany you. However, we can’t leave the commune entirely unguarded.”

“Can we even afford to bring others with us?” Trace raised a brow.

“We’ve gotten a few volunteers— new members of the force. Although, we’re still only a few dozen dealing with thousands, and the commune is growing by the day.” Veronica massaged her temples. “The question is, Trace: do you want to do this? I’m not going to force you. The choice is yours.”

“I’m doing it,” the redhead said without hesitation.

“Huh, I thought you’d need more time to think about it.”

Trace shook her head. “If Liz is fighting, I am too. And even if she isn’t, I’m not just going to sit around as a bunch of thugs murder innocent civilians while I can do something about it.”

“Damn, Trace.” Liz grinned. “When’d you grow a pair of balls?”

“Firstly, piss off.” Trace flipped her best friend off, only for Liz to give her a thumbs-up in return. “Second of all, I’ve thought about it a lot. I’ve already risked my life to exterminate those serpentfiends. I may as well commit to my role, alright?”

“Good on you. Let’s kick their asses together!”

“Is that settled, then?” Sam asked, raising a brow.

And as if it was some sort of cue, footsteps made their way down the corridor. Adair Russell turned the corner and paused. “What’s going on?” he asked. His gaze settled on Sam who simply grinned.

“Hey, Adair. Fancy seeing you here.”

“What is he doing here?” Adair tensed, and Sam stood up.

“What, I can’t be here? I didn’t know you owned this place.”

“No fighting here.” Trace stood between the two men and folded her arms. “I know the both of you have your… issues with each other—”

“He wants me dead, Trace Taylor,” Adair said, meeting her gaze.

The redhead bit her lip. “Right. But not at this very moment. Is that right, Sam?”

“Well—”

“I said: is that right?” She stomped on Sam’s foot, and he yelped.

“Fine! Fine! Yeah, I was just teasing him.” He sank back into the sofa. “Jeez, why do the both of you have to be so uptight?”

“Good enough,” Trace said, turning to Adair. “And you won’t start any trouble either, will you?”

“…I shall not act unless he does so first.”

“Good.”

“Wait, why does he get a good, while I get a good enough? That’s unfair!” Sam protested.

“Shut up. This is not a competition.”

“Dunno,” Liz said, chuckling. “Seems like Trace is being a tad bit biased against you, Sam.”

“Don’t stoke the fire, Liz.” Trace gave her best friend a disgruntled stare.

“I believe this conversation won’t be productive lest Samuel and I separate from each other,” Adair said, still eyeing the other man.

“I agree. Come on, Sam. Come on, Liz.” Much to Trace’s relief, Veronica stood up and ushered everyone else out of the room.

“Wait, me too?” Liz blinked.

“I don’t want you interrupting her as she explains the situation to Adair. Now move it.”

“Alright,” Trace said, glad that the distractions were gone. “Basically, Sam is here to help us with the Onyx Lair Crew. He knows where their hideout is located and he’ll help us take them down.”

“So, we’ve traded one group of uncouth individuals for another?” Adair shook his head. “And you believe he’ll keep his word?”

“He’s been good on that so far, Adair.” Trace wasn’t sure if Sam was good or bad, but she did know that he was at least trustworthy. “Look, can’t you put aside your differences just to work with him for a little bit? We’ll need your help if we want to take down that gang.”

“Work with him?” Adair narrowed his eyes. “He’s part of the Precursors of Peace. As far as I am aware, they are no better neighbours than the Onyx Lair Crew.”

“C’mon, you guys worked together before, haven’t you? We took down the durable serpentfiend together.” She prodded him.

He grimaced. “That was due to adrenaline and the desperation of the situation. Right now, the situation doesn’t necessitate his assistance. If he is so willing to help, he can simply offer up the location and take his leave. Any further assistance from him isn’t necessary.”

“The more people we have with us, the better. It increases our chance of succeeding. You should know this— aren’t you supposed to be smart or something?”

“And I was under the impression that you disliked fighting.” He peered at her expression. “However, right now, I can’t help but notice your enthusiasm to face the Onyx Lair Crew.”

There was a pause. Trace stared at him, suppressing an annoying feeling that rose from the pits of her stomach. Seriously? Her? Excited? No, that was the most asinine thing she’d heard all day. And she listened to Janus’ little speech just a few hours earlier.

She sighed, letting the annoyance simmer away into something far milder. “No, Adair. I don’t enjoy this. I’m not enthused with the idea of fighting a bunch of psychopaths who can potentially end my life. What I want, however, is to just get this over with as soon as possible.” Trace looked up at him. “And if you help us, less people will get hurt.”

Adair stared at her. He said nothing for a moment, simply meeting her gaze. She shifted slightly.

“W-what?”

“It is nothing. You are simply a curious individual, Trace Taylor.”

“Thank you?” She wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or an insult.

Adair spun around and started down the corridor. “As for my assistance, you will be receiving it whenever we decide to embark on this trip. I shall… make do with Samuel’s presence for now.” He hesitated, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Even if I’d rather not do so.”

Trace smiled in relief. “Thank you, Adair.”

“It is not a problem.”

However, just as he was about to leave, she called out to him. “By the way, how was the potion? Did it work?”

He halted by the doorway. Glancing back at her slightly, he nodded. “It did.”

“That’s good,” she said.

“Good, indeed.”

Killshot Apocalypse 30

It was night when Trace Taylor left with Elizabeth Evergreen to convene with Samuel Diaz. The redhead shivered as a cold wind blew against her jacket, flipping her dangling scarf up like a flag during a breezy day.

“Are we ready?” she asked.

“I still can’t believe that this secret hideout of the Onyx Lair Crew turned out to just be the Onyx Lair Dungeon,” Liz replied. “Mind. Blown. Literally no one would have ever thought about it.”

“I can’t help but sense like you’re throwing a little bit of shade at me,” Sam said, pursing his lips.

Liz chuckled. “What? You’re capping! I totally never would’ve seen it coming. It’s not like it’s in the name or anything.”

“Look, even if it seems obvious, no one but me has actually visited Onyx Lair Dungeon to confirm it.”

“And I just can’t wrap my mind around that. I’m sorry, Trace. I just don’t think I’m ready for such levels of genius.”

The redhead snorted. “I meant: are we ready to go?”

“Oh, that,” Liz said, blinking. “Yeah, let’s do this.”

The plan to deal with the Onyx Lair Crew was simple enough: two groups had been formed, and Trace’s group was the first. The second group consisted of a couple of police officers and volunteers led by Jeremy.

Honestly, unlike Jeremy’s group which numbered in over a dozen, Trace’s group could barely even be considered a group. They were more like a trifling trio compared to what Jeremy’s group brought. An ensemble of idiots. A symphony of sods. A cornucopia of cun—

Although, they could’ve been a quartet if Adair Russell wasn’t adamantly against directly working with Sam. He’d chosen to work alongside Jeremy instead. His logic was that he’d be able to aid the less-experienced fighters in the battle that was to come.

Trace would’ve preferred to have him fighting by her side— it’d be safer for her. However, she understood his logic. It was better to protect the weaker fighters, because they were the ones in greater danger. Even if she hated to admit it, she was quite high-levelled which made her stronger.

[And does that make you a superhero?] a voice in her head asked.

She sighed. “No, Ex,” Trace said mentally, “I’m not a superhero. I’m barely even super, let alone a hero.”

The trifling trio led by Trace made their way out of Liberapolis. However, instead of breaking away from the buildings and the urban landscape, they continued following the road until they arrived at an abandoned small town adjacent to the city. There, they found a collapsed factory building with an obelisk-like tower protruding from its centre.

“Is this it?” The redhead turned to Sam.

“Yeah, this is the place,” he said. “The Onyx Lair Dungeon. It appeared in the middle of this factory and apparently caused something to explode and kill dozens of its workers.”

“Is that why the town’s empty?” she asked, raising a brow. “They evacuated because they were afraid monsters would escape from the Dungeon?”

Trace had noticed a distinct smell— the scent of death permeating the town as ruddy stains smeared the shadows she didn’t dare to peer into. But no. She realised the folly of her own statement after making it.

Dungeon monsters didn’t leave the Dungeon.

“Nope,” Sam answered. “The remaining townspeople were chased out after some… persuasion by the Onyx Lair Crew.”

“Oh.”

And that gave Trace enough of a reason to press on. It was dark and it was cold but the trio found a warm, comfortable room in the factory to camp in for the rest of the night. After all, the plan required them to wait for Jeremy’s group before starting.

“Let’s just go over our roles again,” Trace said, giving Liz a knowing look.

“What? I haven’t forgotten the plan!” the sable-tressed woman protested. “We go in, we kick their asses, and we leave, right?”

The redhead rolled her eyes. “No, Liz. At dawn, Jeremy will arrive and cause a distraction— fake an attack at the Dungeon. When that happens, we sneak in and apprehend that bellend Janus. Force them to surrender.”

“Sounds easy enough.”

However, Sam disagreed. “I know Veronica’s the one who came up with this, and this is no offence to her, but I don’t think it’d be that simple,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Trace frowned.

“She’s expecting the whole gang to fold once Janus is behind bars, but that’s not how gangs, or even organisations, work. We’ll have to make them surrender. Show them we’re not fucking around.”

That was a good point. The redhead didn’t like it but she found herself agreeing with a member of the Precursors of Peace. Am I starting to lose it, too? she questioned her sanity for a brief moment.

[Probably,] Ex opined profoundly.

Thanks for your contribution, Ex. Do you have anything even more useless to say?

[Where is my superhero comic book, Trace Taylor?]

Trace mentally groaned and leant against the cold stone wall. She checked her pistol— counted how much ammo she had left. Ten regular clips— eighty bullets. But that wasn’t all she had on her. In the dark room, she produced a glinting object from her bag as Liz somehow dozed off in the brief lull of conversation.

The redhead held up the twinkling thing— a semi-cylindrical shape that was about the size of her regular bullets.

“What is that?” Sam stared at her, intrigued.

“An aetheric bullet,” she said, showing it to him. “I crafted it yesterday. With my… craft.”

“No shit, really?” He grinned at her. “You made it with your craft?”

“Oh, piss off. My craft is Tinker— I made it as a Tinker.”

“Tinker, huh? What made you choose that as your craft?”

Trace shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess it just made sense to me. I mean, you saw what my pistol did against the durable serpentfiend. It was like a peashooter. If I want to be able to hurt stronger monsters, I’d need stronger weapons.”

“And Tinker will help you with that,” Sam said, understanding. However, he tapped a finger on his chin. “But why would you even want to do that?”

“What, kill stronger monsters?”

“Yeah. You don’t seem like the type of person who enjoys fighting. Not like Liz.” He glanced over at the sleeping woman.

The redhead scoffed. “Of course not. Only weirdos and idiots thrive in this insane mess.”

“Did you just call your best friend a weirdo?”

“No, I called her an idiot.” She pursed her lips. “But I guess I’m a bit of a moron, too. That’s why we’re best friends.”

“Aw, I don’t think you’re a bit of a moron. You’re a lot of a moron.”

She glared at him, and he just laughed.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

“Anyways, it’s just… do or die,” she said. “There are definitely monsters even bigger and more terrifying than that durable serpentfiend out there. And I’d rather not die, y’know?”

“That’s fair.” Sam nodded.

The redhead studied his expression. For whatever reason, she could tell that wasn’t the answer he was hoping to hear from her.

“What about you, then?” Trace asked. “Why’re you even part of the Precursors of Peace? Why’re you helping us?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” he answered without much apprehension. “I want to help people. And I believe the Precursors of Peace does just that.”

She stared at him. “Aren’t you a terrorist?”

“I told you, we’re not terrorists. The world has turned over sideways, and the world governments won’t do crap about it. Seriously, Congress was literally destroyed by a horde of monsters because they kept reconvening to argue with each other.”

“Wait, what?” Trace blinked.

Sam raised a brow. “You didn’t hear? It happened two weeks ago, I think. Yeah, pretty much all senators and members of congress are dead. Killed by giant rats, too. Kind of fitting if you ask me, since the lot of them were rats, anyways.”

“That’s kind of a grim joke, Sam.”

“It wasn’t a joke.”

“Oh.” She shifted slightly, not meeting his gaze. “I don’t know. I guess a group led by someone who calls himself the fucking Supreme Leader raises some red flags in my mind.”

“Supreme Leader Noah can be a little… eccentric,” Sam said, sighing. “But he’s a good man. You haven’t met him yet. Trust me, you’ll know that he’s a good person once you actually speak with him.”

“I’m not going to let you indoctrinate me to you cult, Sam.” Trace gave him a flat stare.

“Come on, now. You just called us a terrorist group, and now a cult? At least make up your mind.” He chuckled, shaking his head.

“How about both? A cult terrorist. Or if you combine them, it’d be a cult…ist. Huh, that’s still just a regular cult.”

“A terror cult, then,” he said, placing a hand on his chin.

“Nope, that’s still just a regular cult, Sam.”

Sam burst out laughing at that.

The night was still long, and there really wasn’t anything else to talk about. So, as Trace waited for morning to arrive, she began to labour on more aetheric bullets. Sam watched her to keep himself from falling asleep. However, somehow, the delicate process of an amateur making magical bullets expedited his trip to dreamland instead.

[(F-) Tinker’s mind has reached level 2!

(F-) Tinker’s mind has reached level 3!

(F-) Tinker’s mind has reached level 4!

(F-) Tinker’s mind has reached level 5!

(E-) Immersed Perception has reached level 3!

(E-) Immersed Perception has reached level 4!

Tinker has reached level 3!

Tinker has reached level 4!]

The only skill she didn’t level for her Tinker craft was Upgraded Schematics. For that skill to even be used, she needed a lot more materials— something which she didn’t have much of right now.

Name: Trace Taylor

Race: Human (Earth A314)

Class: Adept Spellshot – Lvl 18

Vocation: Augur Architect – Lvl 11

Craft: Tinker – Lvl 4

Traits:

Strength: D-
Magic: D+
Endurance: E+
Vitality: E+
Dexterity: D

Skills:

Class Skills:
(F+) Magically Enhanced Accuracy – Lvl 14
(E-) Quick Fire – Lvl 10
(E) Recall Weapon – Lvl 8
(E+) Vulnerability Vision – Lvl 10
(E+) Last in the Chamber – Lvl 9
(D-) Mystic Bullets – Lvl 9

Vocation Skills:
(F) Hasty Design – Lvl 4
(E-) Magically Makeshift Materials – Lvl 3
(E) Silent Construction – Lvl 2
(E+) Restoration and Creation – Lvl 3
(D-) Architect’s Hand – Lvl 3

Craft Skills:
(F-) Tinker’s Mind – Lvl 5
(F+) Upgraded Schematics – Lvl 1
(E-) Immersed Perception – Lvl 4

It was dawn before Trace knew it. The sun lazily dragged itself out of the horizon as she shook Liz and Sam awake.

“Wake up, you lazy asses.”

“Five more minutes—”

“But mum—”

She smacked them both over the heads, and they jolted up. Trace glared at Sam. “Call me mum again and the next time I hit you will be with the butt of my pistol.”

“You’re a violent one, aren’t you?”

“Only when I’m not in the mood for bullshit,” she said, crossing her arms.

Liz yawned and got to her feet. “So, are we doing this, or? …”

“Not yet. Jeremy’s group should be arriving soon. When they do, we’ll want to sneak in around the back of the Dungeon.” The Onyx Lair was a tower with four entrances— one in each cardinal direction. They’d known the layout thanks to Sam’s information. Honestly, it was a good thing they brought him along. “We’ll have to wait for them to cause a distraction, then we can leave.”

“What even is the distraction supposed to be, anyways?” Sam asked, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t think you guys told me—”

Before he could finish, an explosion cut him off. Blasts and gunshots resounded in the distance. A dozen individuals opened fire at the northern entrance of the Onyx Lair. Trace gestured at the flames spewing out into the air.

“That. That’s the distraction.”

“Oh, right. I guess that’s very… distracting.”

“Enough chat.” Liz smirked, drawing her Obsidian Longsword. “It’s time to get lit up in here.”

Killshot Apocalypse 31

The Onyx Lair jutted out of the ground like the tip of a spear. It was a black monument that stood at over a hundred metres tall— about the height of a small skyscraper— with ten violet crack-like streaks cutting across its surface and marking where each floor began and ended from the outside.

The entrance to the Dungeon was a tall archway that was about five metres in height and width. Gang members of the Onyx Lair Crew poured out to meet the group of officers outside. They carried with them rifles— ones stolen from The Evergreen Gun Range— and more crude weapons like machetes and axes. The officers raised their own weaponry, carefully aiming at them but not firing just yet.

Jeremy stepped forward with a megaphone in hand and shouted something at them.

Trace Taylor could barely make out the words, although she didn’t care enough to pay attention to it. Right now, her focus was sneaking around the ruins of the factory that girdled the Onyx Lair to enter it from the opposite side. Samuel Diaz and Elizabeth Evergreen followed after her, their weapons warily raised in the off chance they ran into a lurking patrol of the gang members.

“Remember, get in, find Janus, and get out while avoiding all unnecessary fighting,” the redhead said to her two companions. “There’s only three of us, and we can’t take on their whole gang.”

“Says you.” Liz flexed an arm. “I bet I could take on a hundred of these jerks without breaking a sweat.”

“Maybe you can, but Sam can’t. He’s not even level 15, Liz.”

“Who cares about him.” She waved a hand dismissively. “I’m level 20, and you’re level 18. We’ve got this, Trace.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Gee, thanks for the assurance. I sure feel welcomed here. You’re welcome for the help, by the way.”

“Shut up, both of you— do you hear that?” Trace narrowed her eyes.

A soft thrumming cut its way through the silence. It came from down a shadowed hallway— a hum or a tune from a song. And it sounded like it was coming… closer.

“Hide!” she snapped.

They scrambled for any cover they could find. It was a factory, and they’d been in a large room filled with assembly lines. The redhead stuffed herself in one of the inactive machines. Sam found his own hiding spot, but Liz joined her.

“Hey, this is my hiding spot, get your own!”

“Come on, Trace. We’re besties! Learn to share a little, will you?”

“If we’re found out—”

Trace snapped her mouth shut, her lips clenching like a fist. Three figures emerged from the shadows. Two men— one with a mohawk and the other with braided hair— and a girl ambled down the corridor as another blast reverberated through the empty factory.

“Yo, what is that?” the first man asked, pausing the music he was playing on his phone.

“Probably some stray monsters again,” the second man said. A sadistic grin spread across his face as he shoved the woman forward. “Let’s just get this bitch back to the Dungeon. I can’t wait to have some fun with her.”

They continued towards the Onyx Lair, ignoring the fighting in the distance, and entering the next hallway. Trace’s eyes widened when she realised what was going on. The ropes binding the girl’s hands and the duct tape muffling her mouth was clue enough.

“Those bastards…” The redhead gritted her teeth as she exited her hiding spot. Sam and Liz joined her as her face contorted into a scowl. “Fucking arseholes.”

“Why aren’t we doing anything about it, then?” Liz said, crossing her arms. “We can easily win this fight! Did you even take a look at them? They were barely Sam’s level! They were weak.”

Sam stared at her. “Alright, am I just here to be your punching bag, Liz?”

“I dunno. Are you?”

“If we try to stop them,” Trace said, ignoring their back and forth, “we run the risk of alerting the rest of the Onyx Lair Crew of our presence here. Do we want to do that?”

Liz raised her shoulders in a shrug. “I’m always down for some fighting.”

Trace turned to Sam, uncertain. His eyes flickered, and he nodded. “It’s the right thing to do,” he said.

There was a few seconds of deliberation for the redhead. One which led to the only logical conclusion for her in this moment. “Let’s get those bastards first. Free the girl. Then find Janus.”

* * *

“Man, I don’t know why you listen to that,” the man with the mohawk said. “I hear the artist is a flat-Earther. Why would you support a conspiracy nut like her?”

The man with braided hair paused the song. “I just like the music, dude. I don’t care what she does with her own free time.”

“I just… don’t you think it’s unethical to support a celebrity who uses her platform to spread harmful misinformation? This is why everyone hates each other these days, man.”

“We’re literally killing people and raping women, and you’re talking about ethics? We lost that shit when those aliens showed up.” He gestured at the girl behind them.

She stared at the ground, not meeting either of their gazes.

“That’s unrelated and you know it.” The man with the mohawk crossed his arms.

“How the fuck is that unrelated, dude?!”

“It’s just… we’re a product of our environment, man. You can’t blame us for doing bad things, you know?”

“Fine, then how about this for an answer: what if she has a point?”

“You think she has a— you think the Earth is flat?!”

“Look, I’m just saying, if aliens are real, you don’t know what else is real, alright? The Earth could be flat and we wouldn’t know any better. No one believed that aliens were real before all of this.”

“I did.”

There was a pause. The two men stared at each other.

“Wait, if you believed in that shit, why are you lecturing me about this?”

“I was right, man. It’s just not the same—”

“What the fuck are they on about?!”

Trace Taylor had been following the two men for about a minute now, and she sorely wished she hadn’t been listening to a single thing they said. She was pretty sure she lost brain cells from that conversation— and she didn’t even partake in it.

“It’s pretty dumb, but not gonna lie, hella entertaining too,” Liz whispered from her left.

“Where is Sam? He better hurry up before my IQ hits zero.”

As a Ranger with a vast array of tools, Sam said he’d be able to restrict their movements before they could even react. And Trace and Liz would swoop in to defeat them while they were trapped.

“Listen, if the Earth turns out to actually be flat—” the man with braided hair started.

But a glint caught his eye. An arrow shot out of the darkness ahead. It landed between him and the man with the mohawk.

“The hell is that?”

“An arrow. But it looks like whoever shot it has bad aim—”

And there was a click. The arrow blasted open, firing a net towards the pair. They tried to leap out of the way but were already caught in the threads.

“Now!” Trace yelled.

She and Liz made a break for the two men, weapons already drawn. The man with the mohawk struggled in the net, but the man with braided hair whipped out a dagger and started cutting his way out.

Trace halted her charge as she took aim at the dagger. She pulled the trigger, and a bang resounded throughout the room. The man with braided hair yelped as she shot the dagger out of his hand. He glanced over at her.

“Watch it, you fucking bitch! You could’ve shot my hand off—”

And Liz struck him across the face. She didn’t even need to use her Obsidian Longswod. A single punch knocked him flying, unconscious but still wrapped in the net.

“Take that, jerk! That’s for messing up my home!”

Unfortunately, that also freed the man with the mohawk. He squeezed his fists, turning a burning gaze towards Liz.

“You’re going to regret doing that.” He took a single step towards her.

And Trace shot out his left kneecap. He screamed and rolled on the ground, grabbing his knee.

“YOU STUPID WH—”

Somehow, he bit through the pain to shout obscenities at the redhead. She fixed that real quick by pistol-whipping him on the back of the head. He lay there, knocked out.

“That was… pretty easy,” Trace said, taking in the sight of the two fallen men.

“Told ya.” Liz sheathed her sword.

“They were level 10 and level 11.” Sam appeared from the corridor ahead, shaking his head. “And we got the drop on them. Of course they didn’t stand a chance. Come on, help me tie them up.”

The redhead eyed the crimson stain growing on the ground. “What about the bleeding? Won’t he bleed to death?”

Sam pulled out some rope and a pair of manacles. “He’ll be fine. He’s a Warrior. He has a higher vitality so he’ll recover without any treatment… I think.”

“Good enough for me.” She shrugged. But she didn’t get to work helping Sam. Instead, she turned around, facing the girl as she sat against the wall, cowering away from the trio. “What about her?”

“What kind of a question is that?” Liz scoffed and walked up to the woman. Her mouth was taped over, and she had robes tied around her hands and feet. “We free her, of course.” The Swordsmaiden cut her bindings free as Trace removed the tape from her mouth.

“It’s fine— we’re here to help,” the redhead said softly. The tape came off pretty easily, leaving no red marks behind, oddly enough. “What’s your name?”

“A-Audrey…” the girl replied.

“Audrey,” she repeated the name. To be perfectly honest, Trace didn’t know what to say in this situation. Her mind moved on autopilot, and she asked the questions that only made sense at the moment. “Are you alright, Audrey? Did they hurt you?”

“N-not yet.”

“That’s good,” Trace sighed in relief.

Liz finally cut the last of the loose ropes and helped the girl to her feet. “You good? Can you walk?”

“I can,” Audrey said as she stood up. But she hesitated, glancing between the two best friends.

“What’s the matter? We won’t hurt you,” the redhead reassured her.

“N-no, that’s not it. I… thank you. For saving me. I just thought I was going to be… to be…” She sniffled, and Trace pursed her lips.

Should Trace hug her? Should Trace try to comfort the girl?

Audrey looked like she was around 18 or 19 years old. Or at least, Trace hoped she was 18 or 19 years old. Not that it made it any better. This was terrible, no matter the age. But at least it was stopped before the worst could happen.

“Are you…” Audrey started, regaining her composure. “Are you here to save the other women?”

Trace blinked. “Wait, what do you mean by ‘other women’?”

* * *

“Of fucking course!” Trace threw her hands in the air, shouting. Her voice was apparently quite loud since she roused the man with the mohawk.

“Hgnh… wha?…”

She heard his grousing and marched over to where he was tied up. “Go back to sleep, you psychotic fuck!” It took a few hits, but he eventually fell unconscious again.

Sam rubbed his chin as she did that. “So, the Onyx Lair Crew has been abducting and raping dozens of women for the past few weeks, and you think they’re keeping the women somewhere in the Dungeon?”

“That’s right,” Audrey said, hugging her knees. “They took my mum a week ago. They said they’d spare me if she didn’t put up a fight. But they lied, of course. Of course they did.”

Hearing that made Trace’s blood boil. Even though the man with the mohawk was already unconscious, she struck him on the back of the head one more time purely out of anger.

“Fucking bastards,” she whispered.

Audrey looked over at her. “Why don’t you just kill them?” the girl asked.

The redhead glanced up. “Pardon?”

“Why don’t you kill those rapists?” Audrey repeated her question. And that was when Trace noticed she was glaring right at the two men and not the redhead.

Before Trace could answer— or even think of an answer— Sam spoke out.

“Because we’ve already got them tied up,” he said, gesturing at their manacles. “They won’t be able to harm anyone else like this.”

“R-right,” the redhead agreed with him.

“I see.” Audrey leant back against the wall, looking towards the ceiling. “Are you going to save the other women?”

“We shall. But first, we need to get you out of here safely.” Trace turned to Sam. “Can you help bring her to Jeremy and the others? Liz and I will continue on for now.”

“Wait, alone?”

“I just said I’d be going with Liz. That’s not alone.”

“Right, but it’ll be just the two of you in there.” He gave her a worried look.

But Liz patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Sam. With your level, it’s not like you’ll be much help to us, anyways!”

Sam brushed her hand aside, pressing his lips together in a thin line. “Just stay safe, the both of you. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“We will.” Trace nodded at him. “And thank you.”

He reached over to help Audrey up, but Trace proffered the girl a hand first.

“O-oh, th—” Before Audrey could say anything, the redhead hugged her. She was taken aback.

But Trace whispered into her ears. “I promise you, we’ll break your mother out. And we’ll make sure to break the face of that bastard Janus, too.”

The girl’s eyes fluttered. Tears slowly streamed down her face as she hugged Trace back. “Thank you.”

Killshot Apocalypse 32

A single man guarded the southern entrance to the Onyx Lair. Well, he didn’t so much as guard as he sat on a chair, playing with his phone. Trace Taylor. pursed her lips and turned to her best friend.

“What are we going to do about him?”

Elizabeth Evergreen considered the question. Then she snapped her fingers. “I know— just follow my lead.”

The redhead blinked as Liz marched forward, walking straight towards the archway. Trace followed her, sputtering. “What are you doing?”

“Shush. We don’t want to arouse suspicion. Just play it cool.” Liz continued walking, whistling very conspicuously as she passed by the man.

He didn’t even glance up at her, too engrossed in what he was doing.

“Hey, Chuck,” she greeted him and continued into the archway.

“Mm, hey,” he said, uncaring.

Trace stared as Liz walked into the Onyx Lair without a problem. She hurried after her best friend, trying and failing to muster up any words.

“Told you.” Liz grinned.

“This is fucking stupid.”

But before they could get any further, a voice echoed from the entrance.

“Wait a minute…” The man lowered his phone. “My name’s not Chuck.” And his eyes grew wide. “And you’re not anyone I know!”

Trace halted and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

“What? Of course you know us!” Liz said, laughing as she waved a hand dismissively. “Come on, Chuck. Lay off the drugs, will you?”

And it was only then did Trace notice his bloodshot eyes and the dark circles drooping down from his eyelids. Was he high right now? His reaction led her to believe that he indeed was.

“Hmm. I swear I don’t know you…” He walked up to Liz, stroking his chin.

“Alright, enough of that,” Trace said and pistol-whipped him across the face.

He flopped over, falling unconscious without much of a sound. Liz stepped back, aghast. “Why’d you do that to Chuck?!”

“Piss off, Liz. This is serious.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop.”

The layout of the Onyx Lair was quite straightforward— Sam had explained it to the pair before he left. There were ten floors connected by a spiral stairway at the centre. Each floor had a labyrinth which led to this stairway. Before it was cleared out, the Dungeon had been populated with ox-like monsters guarding the labyrinths. Their levels were roughly the same— all of them were below level 10, since this was a G rank Dungeon. The only difference between each floor was the complexity of the labyrinth and the number of monsters within.

The first floor’s labyrinth was relatively easy to navigate. The halls were large enough for even a truck to pass through, and there were really only three paths that actually diverged. Trace simply stuck to the ones with the most footrails and trash left behind. Seriously, the Onyx Lair Crew didn’t care to clean up after themselves. It was like a literal dumpster.

There were some occasional side passages— rooms that had probably kept treasure or traps or monsters— but they weren’t actual corridors. Just box rooms holding stolen items within.

They’re probably keeping the women in one of these rooms, too.

The pair made their way to the centre after a solid fifteen to twenty minutes of  careful walking. Trace spotted the stairway to the next floor up ahead, but immediately pulled herself to the wall when she saw the five figures guarding it. They didn’t notice her— which, good.

“They’re around level 10 each,” she said, peering around the corner. “And they’re armed with rifles as well.”

“I’ve got this.” Liz started forward—

But Trace pulled her back. “We’re definitely not getting past them the same way as before.”

“Of course not. Do you think I’m an idiot? No— we’re gonna beat them up.”

“Don’t you think that’ll attract too much attention?” The redhead stared at her best friend dubiously.

“Nah, it’ll be fine. Just listen.” Liz held a hand to her ear. “Do you hear that?”

“Erm, no? …” Trace was pretty sure that she heard nothing. Then it hit her. That was exactly the point— even though there was a battle going on outside of the Dungeon, she heard nothing whatsoever. And with how large the halls were, she expected to at least hear her own footsteps when she’d been walking around the labyrinth.

However… nothing.

Somehow, whatever materials made up the walls absorbed enough sound so that there’d be no echoes, and were also thick enough to muffle loud noises from another room.

“And you said it yourself,”—Liz raised her Obsidian Longsword, stepping into view of the five guards— “You want to teach these jerks a lesson, right?”

The guards shouted at each other. One of them took off, heading straight for the stairway as the other four readied themselves for battle. Trace sighed.

“You’re right,” she said and fired a single bullet.

It shot across the room, zipping straight for the running man. He turned around, wide-eyed, trying to get out of the way. The gunshot struck him across the shoulder, and he tumbled to the ground.

The other four guards exchanged a glance. Then they charged at Trace and Liz. However, the sable-tressed Swordsmaiden was already running their way. They bore down on her with various different weapons. One of them had a large axe, and another a pair of double-edged daggers. A kind of Warrior and Rogue. They intercepted Liz as the other two remaining guards attacked from afar.

One of the two men who stayed back had to be a Spellcaster since he began conjuring a spear of ice out of the precipitation in the air. He hurled it at Liz, and Trace moved. She fired two gunshots— that was what it took to shatter it completely, according to Vulnerability Vision.

The ice shards exploded and rained on the ground as the redhead continued firing at the Spellcaster. The man conjured up everything he could to protect himself or dodge the oncoming bullets, but she still managed to nick on the shin. He stumbled back right as the last man stepped forward.

Trace stared at the final guard as he held up two rifles. Fully automatic rifles in each hand.

“Eat lead, you ginger fuck!”

He squeezed both triggers as Trace cursed. “Shit—” She dove for cover.

A cacophony of gunshots rang out, filling the room with an incessant ringing as the bullets whizzed and whistled around Trace. Her eyes widened as she saw the tracers coming. They were… they were… completely missing her.

The man had terrible aim. He wasn’t even a Ranger— just a Warrior who thought his increased strength would help him dual-wield machine guns. And, sure, he could control the recoil without much of a problem. But he didn’t aim any better.

Trace easily shot the rifles out of both his hands before shooting out his ankles. She turned to help her best friend as the man collapsed, only to find Liz standing over her two fallen assailants.

“Took you long enough,” the Swordsmaiden said, grinning.

“Show off.”

Trace walked up to the bleeding Warrior— the one who’d been using the rifles. He weakly flailed at her, but she kicked him over and pointed at his head.

“Where’s Janus? And where’s he keeping all the women he kidnapped?”

“As if I’m going to tell you anything, idiot,” he spat.

She frowned. “I have a gun to your head.”

“And? The both of you are going to die, anyways.” He laughed, and Trace narrowed her eyes. “You don’t get it, do you? Look around. Count how many of us are down on the ground, and think back for a moment about how many of us there were.”

Well, there were the two idiots Liz easily dispatched, the Mage who’d passed out from the pain, this idiot right here, and…

The redhead’s eyes grew round. “The first guard— the one who made a break for it… he’s gone.”

“Took you long enough.”

“How the hell did he? …” Trace stared. “How the fuck did I not notice?”

“He’s a Stealth Rogue, so he does that sometimes,” the man chuckled. “Janus will be coming down here with dozens of men any moment. He’ll make the both of you pay—”

Before he could finish, Liz ‘accidentally’ stumbled over his leg. She stepped on his bleeding ankle and placed a ditzy hand over her mouth. “Oops, I tripped on something.”

“You fucker!”

“Just tell us what we want,” she said. “Hurry up before I trip again.”

He glared at her, but he could tell she wasn’t joking. “…Janus is on the third floor. So you have a good half an hour before he gets here.”

Liz tapped her chin. “I thought he’d be on the tenth floor.”

“Well, no one wants to walk up all those flights of stairs, alright? And it’s not like anyone’s going to be using all these fucking rooms.”

“And what about the women?” Trace said, frowning.

“Second floor. Take the first hallway on the left, follow it until you get to the purple corridor. You’ll know it when you see it. Just fuck off alr—” He was cut off by a foot to the face.

“Thanks.” The redhead left him there unconscious as she marched her way to the stairwell.

“So, about half an hour before Janus and all his goons get here.”

“We’re not going to fight them, Liz.”

“Aw, why not? It’s not like they’re that much stronger than a lesser serpentfiend. I’m sure we can take on a few dozen of them on our own.”

“We don’t know that, and we don’t know what level they’d even be. Janus was close to our level, remember? And fighting through all of them to get to Janus defeats the purpose of why we’re even here.”

“Ugh, fine— then what are we gonna do instead?”

“Free the kidnapped girls and get out of here,” Trace said simply. “We wasted too much time fighting and avoiding all those idiots downstairs. But if we hurry here, we can probably get out of here before Janus arrives.”

“I mean, we didn’t really waste time. We did release a lot of pent up stress, at least. Also gained a few levels.”

Trace tilted her head back, and Ex spoke.

[Affirmative. I have neglected to mention the levels gained to not disturb your focus during combat.]

Well, let’s see it now.

[(F+) Magically Enhanced Accuracy has reached level 15!

(F+) Magically Enhanced Accuracy has reached level 16!

(E+) Vulnerability Vision has reached level 11!

(E+) Vulnerability Vision has reached level 12!

(D-) Mystic Bullets has reached level 10!

Adept Spellshot has reached level 19!]

It made sense that the main skills to level up from this were Magically Enhanced Accuracy and Vulnerability Vision. She’d been firing few but precise shots in the midst of battle, taking careful aim for non-lethal body parts before squeezing the trigger. Especially against significantly lower-levelled opponents— Trace was surprised she’d even levelled that much.

“You’re right, Liz.” She turned to her best friend, nodding. “But you get what I mean.”

“Right, let’s be boring and zoom in and out.” Liz huffed and crossed her arms behind her head.

When they reached the second floor, they were immediately met with a more complex labyrinth. There were three different routes they could go by. Trace stuck to the left path, fortunately managing to avoid running into anyone, and eventually finding the violet corridor that was mentioned.

A single door waited at the end of the hallway— Trace could hear the grunts coming from the other side. Her face twisted in disgust.

“Come on, we need to put an end to this.” She started forward, but Liz’s eyes flickered.

The Swordsmaiden grabbed her hand and tugged Trace back behind the corner. “Wait.”

“What? …” The redhead blinked, and the door flew open.

A short and stubby man stumbled out of the room and adjusted his belt as a familiar, injured Rogue hurriedly gesticulated next to him.

[Berserker – Lvl 19,] Ex said. [And the man you’re trying to avoid, Janus.]

Killshot Apocalypse 33

[Berserker – Lvl 19.]

“Shit— what is he doing here?” Trace Taylor stared at Janus as he conversed with the injured Rogue. “Did that bloody bellend lie to us?” Her voice came out as a sharp whisper.

Elizabeth Evergreen leaned forward, peering past the redhead’s shoulders. “Does it really matter? Janus is here, and those women we’re trying to save are right behind that door. We can kill two birds with one stone right here, Trace.”

“I…” Trace hesitated. She eyed Janus— he hadn’t noticed the pair. He was too busy screaming expletives at the Rogue as his face looked like it was about to pop like a can of tomatoes. “Alright,” she sighed. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to have to do it proper. We need a plan.”

“We go in there, kick ass, take names, and save the day.” Liz grinned.

“I’m being serious, Liz.”

“I ain’t capping, either.”

The redhead gave her best friend a flat stare.

“Alright, fine,” Liz said, rolling her eyes. “If you want a plan, how about you shoot out his kneecaps while I distract him?”

Trace’s eyes flickered. She reached over to her bag, fumbling through it until her fingers found a handful of semi-cylindrical object. Aetheric bullets. Eight of them. Just enough for a full clip.

“C’mon, Trace. This isn’t chess. That’s about the best plan I have.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” The redhead took one of the aetheric bullets and swapped out the last bullet in a magazine for it. She repeated it eight times until she had eight clips with a single aetheric bullet in each. “Let’s get this fucker.” She took aim and fired.

Janus glanced up as the bang resounded in the room. He reacted instantaneously. The bullet whizzed by him as he ran to the side. Trace fired two more rounds as Liz dashed forward to intercept him.

“Sup, anus?” The Swordsmaiden smirked as she drew her Obsidian Longsword.

“You!” He glared, fists being wreathed in a dark silver energy. Vytal. The kind of magic a Warrior could use. “I knew I should’ve killed you when I saw first saw you.”

“Glad to hear that you’re still a major asshole.” She raised her blade as he charged her.

They clashed, and Trace circled around them to get a better vantage point of the fight. She took aim but was interrupted as a soft whistling caught her attention. There was a flicker. A flurry of small sharp objects flew her way. The redhead hopped back as the darts struck the ground.

She glanced over in the direction the attack came from; the Rogue grimaced as he held up his right arm. He had darts held in his hand— one in between each of his fingers. His left shoulder was still wounded from earlier when Trace shot him.

The redhead stared. “Seriously? Of all the throwing weapons you can use, you use darts?”

“I was a professional dart thrower when I was twenty,” he said, shrugging. “Also, these are larger and more lethal than regular darts. What do you want from me?”

“I want you to maybe stop hurting people, please?”

“No can do. I’m supposed to kill you. Boss’ orders.”

He threw the darts at her as she cursed. Trace managed to get three rounds of thanks to Quick Fire before rolling out of the way. But the Rogue was fast. Not only did he evade the gunshots in that short period, he managed to close the gap between them, too.

Her eyes grew wide. He swung down at her with a dart in hand, and she barely pivoted out of the way. She fired another round from close-range but missed again. The next shot would be her aetheric bullet. With a finger already wrapped around the trigger, she began to squeeze—

But the Rogue kicked the gun out of her hand. Trace stumbled back as he continued swinging for her with his darts. “Can’t do anything without your gun, can you?” he taunted her, and she continued to back up.

She eventually found herself pressing up against the wall while trying to avoid his incessant attacks. He smiled savagely as he realised he cornered her. Snickering to himself, he lunged out to finish her off.

But there was a flash. Recall Weapon. Trace brought her pistol up, aiming for his right shoulder this time. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Wha—”

She fired. It was an aetheric bullet. One that was already magically enhanced by both her skill and the Shot Amplifier. A thin red beam lasered out and bore straight through the Rogue’s right shoulder. It didn’t even slow. It went through him and through the wall past him.

He screamed as his arm flopped to his side as blood spurted out. Trace made a face.

“Ouch, that looks like it hurts.”

“You think?!”

The Rogue couldn’t even move his right arm anymore. He grasped at his shoulder with his left hand, only to scream when he raised his left arm. There was still a bullet hole on his left shoulder, after all.

“This is the… worst… fucking…” he trailed off. “My darts career is over.”

“Wait, I thought you were retired?” Trace blinked.

“I said I was a professional dart thrower at twenty!”

“Aren’t you, like, forty right now?”

“I’m twenty-fucking-five!”

“Oh.” She pursed her lips as she looked at his thinning hairline. “The last five years have been rough on you, huh?”

He groaned and curled up into a ball. “First my arms, now my ego. Just stop it, already.”

Well, it’s not like he doesn’t deserve it. Trace left him lying there as a loud crack reverberated from the side. She hurried over to Liz and Janus, still locked in battle. The Swordsmaiden had just barely managed to dodge the Berserker’s punch— one which sent waves of silver energy wherever he swung.

“Yo, Trace, a little help over here?”

“On it!” The redhead swiftly reloaded her weapon and began unloading her clip at Janus.

His gaze snapped over at the ringing gunshots, and he quickly ran back as Liz gave chase. The vytal wrapped around his arms shifted to his legs, bringing him towards the redhead with great haste.

“Oh, shit—”

“Come back here—”

Liz yelled as Trace fired round after round in a panic. Janus weaved his way around the bullets, dodging the redhead’s attacks despite her Magically Enhanced Accuracy. His face twisted into a rage-filled expression as he let out a guttural cry.

He reached Trace mere moments after, leaping into the air and over her shots. The vytal once again travelled through his body, this time returning to his arms as he brought them together to make a fist over his head. Trace’s eyes widened. She tried to raise her pistol to shoot him down mid-air.

There was only one bullet left in the clip— the aetheric bullet. If she struck Janus with it, he’d be finished. However, she brought her weapon up too slowly. It was still aimed at the ground. He’d reach her before she could fire. Somewhere, inside of Trace’s mind, she knew he’d rip her apart before she could even pull the trigger.

And it was at that moment, while still aiming at the ground beneath her feet, she decided to pull the trigger twice.

The first shot— the aetheric bullet— dug a deep hole into the ground. It simply pierced its way straight down without leaving much of a mark otherwise. But it was the second bullet that mattered. After all, her clip was empty. It meant she could use one of her strongest skills.

Last in the Chamber fired. It blasted the ground apart— the recoil sending Trace back as she simultaneously hopped into the air. A second later, Janus came crashing down, leaving a small crater where he landed. The attack grazed her as the world rolled around her.

Eventually, her tumbling came to a stop and she regained her bearings. Trace tried to force herself back to her feet, only to find it very difficult to get on more than one leg. Her left leg was bleeding— wounded by both Janus and the self-inflicted Last in the Chamber blast. Strings of blood seeped down her leg like they were tying her to the ground, and she grunted.

Fortunately, that was the worst injury she suffered. Her other leg and was cut up, but not badly enough to immobilise her. She’d survive.

…

Well, not unless Janus had something to say about it.

He marched his way towards the redhead as his eyes flared along with the vytal in his arms. “I will break your spine!”

But before he could reach her, a black blade swung down at him from behind. He barely reacted as Liz slashed for his back. Janus brought an arm up, redirecting the swing across his skin. When he stumbled away, the entire length of his forearm was dripping with blood. Somehow, the vytal had protected him from losing an entire hand, but he was still badly wounded.

He looked down at his wound, then at Liz who flicked the blood off her blade.

“You’re not touching her,” she said simply.

Janus roared incoherently as his eyes glazed over into a bloodshot gaze. He charged at Liz, swinging even more wildly than before. She blocked or evaded most of the attacks but was unable to launch counterattack due to the pressure. He moved faster than before, and his attacks were far more powerful.

“H-how? …”

[A Berserker draws strength from their rage,] Ex said as Janus smashed through a wall. [And he is very angry.]

“That’s bloody bullshit.” Trace watched Liz barely fend off another barrage from Janus. The redhead needed to help her best friend. Her eyes flickered over to where her pistol fell. She lost grip of it earlier when she used Last in the Chamber. It vanished and appeared back in her hand with a single mental command.

She pulled out another clip from her backpack and was about to load it into her pistol when she paused. Janus was distracted right now, but the moment he heard a gunshot, he’d be able to react and move out of the way. Trace wouldn’t hit him unless her bullets moved faster.

But she just so happened to have a bullet that did move faster. The redhead emptied out her clip except for the aetheric bullet. With a click, she loaded her pistol and took aim.

Janus bounded at Liz, staying on her like a rabid dog. Trace hesitated. If she fired her bullet now, even if she didn’t miss, the aetheric bullet would go straight through the Berserker and into her best friend.

So, Trace aimed lower— at his ankles, where the bullet would go straight into the ground. She waited for the opportune moment and fired right as Janus made a small misstep and slowed in his movements.

In an instant, the aetheric bullet pierced straight through his ankles. His leg gave out even as he tried to continue his mad charge. He stumbled and began to fall, blinking in confusion. Liz immediately knew to slice out then, but he continued his flailing. His punch knocked Liz back as she opened up a large cut across his chest.

“Oof—” She staggered back, taking a moment to steady herself.

Meanwhile, Janus crumpled to the ground silently as the vytal dissipated. The aura around his body was gone.

Trace sighed in relief. “Fucking hell, I almost thought he wouldn’t go down.”

Liz wiped at her forehead. “He’s very strong for his level. Berserker is a pretty strong class, huh?”

“Each time we hurt him, he’d get angrier,” the redhead explained, “and because of that, he’d also get stronger.”

“That’s just ridiculously overpowered.” Liz walked up to the fallen man and raised her Obsidian Longsword. “But it’s over now, I guess.”

Janus jerked up. He tightly gripped the black blade as it burnt his hand. It cut into his palms, drawing blood down the sharp tip. The red liquid sizzled slowly, and he turned a burning gaze up at Liz.

“Not yet,” he said as vytal coalesced around him. This time, it covered his entire body instead of just his arms or legs.

Killshot Apocalypse 34

“What the fuck.”

Trace Taylor stared as Janus grabbed the Obsidian Longsword with both his hands. He had cut himself on the black edge of the blade. His blood smeared the flat of the sword with a dark, sizzling crimson.

Elizabeth Evergreen blinked as she tried to pull her weapon back. “Hey, uh, could you maybe let—”

Janus released the Obsidian Longsword, and Liz stumbled back. She caught herself from falling over, but the Berserker was on her in an instant. Powered by the grey aura of his vytal, he charged the Swordsmaiden with his bloodied fists.

And Trace moved. Without thinking, she brought swapped clips and and squeezed the trigger. She didn’t even take the time to aim. Pure instinct guided her, and thanks to both Magically Enhanced Accuracy and Vulnerability Vision, she didn’t completely miss her shot. Quite the contrary, she struck true— the Mystic Bullet whizzed through the air, aimed straight for the Berserker’s head.

It was like time slowed down. Or perhaps Trace was under the effects of Immersed Perception. Either way, she watched as Janus sluggishly turned with bloodshot eyes towards the redhead. The gunshot rang off, drawing his attention just to see the bullet barrelling its way for his skull.

The spinning bullet drew closer. He could only watch. Even with his quickened movements— considering he probably had a relatively high dexterity— he wouldn’t be able to avoid the gunshot from that distance. It was already too close. He would die.

And just as the bullet impacted his skull, Trace flinched. She snapped her eyes shut, not wanting to see the spurt of blood that came from his forehead. It wasn’t even something she thought about. It was natural to want to avoid seeing something bloody and brutal. Even if she had built up some tolerance from seeing blood and gore in battle, she still had never killed anyone before.

This would be her first kill. Janus would be the first person Trace murdered.

Murdered.

Was it really murder?

It was more like self-defence. Even still, Trace was eighteen. She was barely old enough for college, let alone killing another human being.

And yet, didn’t Janus deserve it? He was responsible for raping and kill so many innocent women. He’d just come out of a room where he kept literal sex slaves— random women he’d kidnapped off the streets to violate.

So, Trace made peace with it. She made peace with killing a terrible fucking arsehole. There really was nothing to debate— sure, she’d feel gross for a bit, but she’d move on quickly, right?

A crack formed on her eyelids. She peeked out, expecting to see the corpse of Janus lying right before Liz, right above a pool of blood.

Clink.

The redhead’s eyes grew wide as she saw not a corpse, but the crumpled up form of her bullet drop from the Berserker’s forehead. It had struck him— only for the aura covering his body to block the attack. It halted the bullet, protecting him, and all she did was knock his head back a little bit.

“How? …” She was in disbelief; she could parse what happen if only for a second of thought— clearly, he’d been protected by the vytal coating his body— but her brain couldn’t process it. After all, in Trace’s mind, she’d already accepted Janus as dead.

But he was alive. And he was angrier than ever.

“You!” he bellowed.

Only for a black blade to strike him from behind. He staggered back as Liz swung once more, aiming for his neck again. Both times, he was protected by the aura around him. He only grew more enraged from each hit, and the vytal covering him grey darker until it was a pitch black. Liz raised her blade as Trace was about to fire another shot.

“Why won’t you die?” the Swordsmaiden shouted.

And Janus exploded. He literally exploded. The aura around him blasted out, sending Liz flying against the Dungeon wall. Trace was far enough away that she wasn’t knocked into the air, but she still had to brace herself from falling over.

His vytal dissipated, and he stood there, cool, calm, but still filled with rage. Behind him, there were shouts. Footfalls approached the room, and Trace stared as figures made their way to the hallway. More members of his gang— bastards from the Onyx Lair Crew.

[It appears you are outnumbered and outmatched,] Ex idly commented.

“J-just,” she managed to get out, “just tell me their damn levels.”

In total, there four gang members joined Janus. They wore bike helmets, as expected. One had a baseball bat, for whatever reason, and another held a shotgun in both of his hands. The remaining two had rifles slung around their back, but by the gathering aether around their hands, Trace wagered they were Spellcsaters who’d only use the guns out of necessity.

Their levels ranged from low level 10, to nearly level 20. Yes, one of them was even higher-levelled than Trace.

The man with a baseball bat stepped forward. “Boss, how can we help you?”

“Kill them,” Janus said simply. “I want them dead. No mercy. Kill them now!” And he lost his composure.

Trace groused as she readied herself for the four of them. “You’ve got to be fucking with me. How am I supposed to deal with these goons?”

“Not alone, of course.” The chipper voice of Liz came from behind the redhead. “We got this, Trace. Trust.”

“God, you better be right. If we die from this, I swear…” Trace tried to come up with a threat, only to realise there was nothing she could do once she was dead. Maybe in the afterlife, if that was a thing. After all, sure, there were aliens and monsters and magic and shit— why couldn’t heaven be real, too?

She sighed.

“I swear, I’ll be real unhappy about it.”

“Mood, to be honest.” Liz grinned. The sable-tressed Swordsmaiden wasn’t just chipper. She was excited. She exuded the feeling of that of a child who got a new toy. Could they really win this fight? The fact that it was even a question was what piqued Liz’s interest.

And terrified Trace. But the redhead fought, because she had to. She fired a round, signialling the start of the continued battle. Janus no longer had that aura of protection around him, so he didn’t just stand still as she opened fire. However, he moved swiftly despite his injuries. It was like he didn’t feel pain. He still moved with a stumble. He just wasn’t completely immobile like he should be.

The man with the baseball bat charged for Trace as she targeted the Spellcasters who stayed back. Liz intercepted him, slicing up with her Obsidian Longsword. He tried to parry the attack with his own weapon— and blinked as the baseball bat was cut in half.

“Uh… huh,” he said.

“What did you think was going to happen?” Liz snorted.

Before she could finish the job, a ball of fire flew across the battlefield. Liz nimbly flipped out of the way as it blasted apart the tiled floor. Trace gritted her teeth as she slid past the smoke and debris, firing round after round. She was still hurt from her Last in the Chamber blast from earlier. It fucking sucks.

But she moved because she had to. She nicked one of the Spellcaster in the shoulder as Liz ran straight through the smoke, deflecting stone pellets being hurled her way. The man with the dual shotguns blocked her path. He raised his weapons, grinning.

“Eat lead, bitch.”

He pulled the trigger right as Liz’s eyes flickered. She swung up with her sword, sending a wave of vytal at the guns. It broke both weapons in an instant. He stared at Liz as he was disarmed.

“Oh, fuck.”

What a bunch of bumbling morons, Trace thought. A fireball shot out at Liz, and she leapt up onto the man’s face. With a kick, she pushed herself off him and twisted over the flames as it engulfed him.

Literal morons, Trace continued the train of thought as she shot down the stone pellets flying her way. The other Spellcaster conjured a spear made of ice and tossed it at the redhead. She narrowed her eyes as she counted the bullets in her magazine. Four left. So, she emptied it as quickly as possible.

The first one barely chipped away at the head of ice spear, and the second actually formed a crack on its body. The third finally broke the spearhead, but there was still the rest of the body to worry about.

The fourth and final bullet completely eviscerated the ice spear. The Spellcaster yelped and threw himself to the side as the aetheric bullet tore its way towards him. It struck him on the arm, sending bits of bone out along with a deluge of blood as he screamed.

“Two down!” Trace called out. “Two to go—”

It was at that point, the redhead realised she miscounted; there weren’t just two left, after dealing with the man with the shotgun and one of the Spellcasters. There was still Janus himself. And he reminded her of his existence with a stomach-punch back to reality.

He pummeled her with more force than an actual fucking silverback gorilla, forcing all the spit out of Trace’s throat. She wheezed involuntarily, her face contorting in pain as she turned to her assailant.

“Y-you… fuck…”

“Trace!” Liz shouted. The Swordsmaiden turned her attention away from the remaining Spellcaster who was trying to pelt her with stone darts, only for the man with the broken baseball bat to bar her path.

“These were vintage! Rabe Buth himself signed them!”

“Uh, who?”

“Only the greatest baseball player of all time!”

Liz gave him a flat stare. “I still have absolutely no clue who that is.”

“He’s… you know what? Fuck it.” He gritted his teeth in frustration as a silver aura coalesced. “Parry this, you filthy casual!”

He swung at her with the broken baseball bat as a flash of vytal lashed out. Liz raised her Obsidian Longsword to block his skill, still trying to get to the downed redhead.

Meanwhile, Trace squirmed as Janus held her down with one hand. He loomed over her, almost like a giant. It was as if the palm of his hand was bigger than her entire body. She struggled to get up, but it was no use. She might as well have been a toddler trying to escape the strangling hands of a deranged serial killer.

“L-let go of me—”

“Oh, sure, I’ll do just that,” Janus said in a calm voice. Then his gaze darkened and his voice grew strained. “Right after I fucking kill you.”

Trace reached for her pistol, but the Berserker grabbed it with his free hand and tossed it aside. Then he raised his hand, wearing a vicious smile on his face as the redhead closed her eyes.

“Now, die—”

And there was a flash, followed by a thunk, and a scream.

Trace opened her eyes to see her pistol was back in her hand. Fortunately, Janus hadn’t thrown the pistol far enough away to be out of Recall Weapon’s radius. Unfortunately, before the redhead could shoot him with Last in the Chamber, he had stumbled out of the way.

She got back up, staring at Janus as he pulled an object off his shoulder. It was an arrow. He growled and threw it off.

“Who did that?”

“I did,” a familiar voice said.

Trace looked up to see Sam standing at the other end of the hallway. He held up his bow, flashing a typical grin on his face.

“We’d have arrived sooner, but this place is a maze.”

“More of them?” Janus’ brows snapped together.

“Wait, ‘we’? …” Trace blinked.

And from behind Sam, a man strode forward, fashionably dramatic. Adair Russell bowed as a spark of flame flickered into existence above his head.

“Yes,” he said. “We’re here to, ah, kick some ass, as you would say.”

He snapped his finger, and the fire morphed into a bolt of lightning, lashing straight for the Berserker.

Killshot Apocalypse 35

Quick little edit to last chap: It seems it’s been so long since I wrote this story I mixed up Jeremy and Sam at the end of the last chapter. So, Jeremy has been edited to be Sam. Sorry for any confusion!

Trace Taylor couldn’t believe her eyes.

Janus, the leader of the Onyx Lair Crew, had nearly beaten her. He was so close to ending her life just a few minutes ago; she’d actually been afraid that she would die there and then to that psycho.

But she was saved. Adair Russell and Samuel Diaz arrived just in time and confronted the Berserker together. Her heroes. They faced him in battle in her stead—

And were now getting their asses kicked.

“Fuckwatchout—”

“Oh—”

Sam tumbled through the air, crashing into Adair and cutting off the latter’s casting. Janus picked up the Rapid Ranger’s bow and snapped it in half.

“Good work guys,” Trace said as she stumbled to her feet. “Really kicking his ass.”

“That’s gonna cost me a fortune to replace,” Sam groaned as he picked himself back up.

Adair clicked his tongue. “Perhaps, as an archer, you shouldn’t have opted to face the Berserker at close range.”

“I didn’t want to get close to him. He ran straight at me. What was I supposed to do there?”

“How about we stop arguing—” The redhead raised her pistol and pulled the trigger. Last in the Chamber shot out, barely missing the charging Janus. “And start focusing on fighting?”

“It’s three of us and one of him,” Adair said, conjuring flames in both his hands. “We have to use our numbers to our advantage.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not going to do us much good if he manages to pick us off one by one. I don’t know if you noticed, but none of us here can fight at close range.” Sam gestured vaguely at the three of them.

That was true enough. Trace realised it as well— as long as Janus could close the distance between them, he had the advantage. And considering that he was sprinting across the battlefield like a three-hundred-kilogram grizzly bear, it wasn’t going to be easy keeping him back with just ranged weapons alone.

He was like a literal tank. Sure, maybe in this analogy, Trace and Adair could be considered the artillery. Oh, and Sam would be the infantry, probably. But without much mobility— due to Trace’s injured state— they wouldn’t be able to win.

Not in this enclosed space.

And not especially with how much stronger Janus grew each time he was hurt. Every bit of pain inflicted on the Berserker made him angrier and thus more powerful. It was insane, really. His class was absolutely broken.

Janus roared— literally roared, much to Trace’s bewilderment— as he made a mad dash for Adair. The Energy Caster sent out a cone of flame to keep him back, but he leapt over it, jumping a dozen feet into the air.

Like a soaring comet, Janus crashed into the earth, cracking the ground with his fist alone. Adair managed to roll out of the way in time.

Trace’s eyes flickered. She stared past the Berserker as he rose from the dust— at the whirlwind of blades happening concurrent with this battle. Elizabeth Evergreen was locked in battle with a Spellcaster and a Warrior. She wasn’t gaining much ground, unfortunately.

Each time she knocked the Warrior back, the Spellcaster would keep Liz at bay with a localised tremor. Sometimes, Liz would regain her footing, only to be walled off from all sides by rising stone pillars. By the time she broke out, the Warrior would already have recovered, so Liz wouldn’t be able to gain ground.

She needed help. And conversely. Trace knew she needed Liz’s help to beat Janus. So, she turned to Sam who was fumbling through his back as Janus threw Adair to the side.

“I need you guys to distract him for a minute,” the redhead said hurriedly.

Sam ducked under the flying Adair and produced a pair of miniature crossbows. “For you? You got it.” Smirking, he aimed at Janus and rapidly unleashed a flurry of bolts.

“Where’d you get that from?” Trace blinked.

“Magitechnician, remember? Now hurry up before I accidentally let Adair die to that bastard.”

Adair was already back on his feet, conjuring a lightningbolt to stave off Janus. Nodding, Trace reloaded her pistol and was off to help Liz.

The redhead stumble-ran her way to her best friend. “Liz!” she called out as she raised her pistol.

The Swordsmaiden glanced back, nodding. Trace fired, and she moved out of the way.

Six rapidly fired bullets streaked for the Warrior giving chase to Liz. He looked up as he heard the gunshots, but he had no means to block them. All he had was two pieces of a broken baseball bat.

The ground rose as he braced himself, and the bullets were lodged into stone. The redhead grimaced, turning to the Spellcaster who was creating a hail of stone pellets as the Warrior smugly grinned.

“Try again, b—”

Liz struck him across the shoulder. The Warrior screamed, leaping back. And they were engaged in a clash once more.

Meanwhile, Trace drew the attention of the Spellcaster. He launched the salvo of stone pellets at her as she hurriedly changed clips, shooting the projectiles down mid-air. She reached the end of the magazine as she sidestepped the remaining stone pellets, knowing she had an aetheric bullet left. But even if she fired it directly for the Spellcaster’s head, he would block it with his magic.

So, she shouted, “Liz, switch!”

The Swordsmaide’s eyes flickered as she immediately disengaged from the Warrior. With vytal at her feet, she bounded through the air for the Spellcaster, distracting him as Trace pivoted. The Warrior’s eyes grew wide, and the redhead fired.

The aetheric bullet tore its way to him. He moved back, but it reached him in an instant. He raised a hand coated in vytalist aura, trying to deflect the attack. There was a clash of aether and vytal energies— before, finally, the aetheric bullet won. It pierced him across the shoulder, him down.

“Liz—” The redhead immediately spun around, looking to help her best friend. But she only stared as her best friend stood over the collapsed Spellcaster.

“Easy peasy.” Liz smirked.

A small smile propped up on Trace’s face, too. Before her attention was drawn by a voice from the side.

“You girls done? ‘Cause… ah fuck—” Sam flew into the wall next to Trace, clutching at his stomach, having taken the full force of Janus’ punch. “’Cause we need a little help,” he finished.

The Berserker grunted and lifted up a chunk of stone the size of his chest and tossed it at Adair.  The Energy Caster raised a hand, stopping the thrown debris mid-air, only to be tackled by Janus a moment later.

Trace unloaded multiple bullets at Janus’ back, only for a black aura to deflect the attack. He was unhurt. But, fortunately, his attention was drawn away from Adair and towards the redhead.

Or was that unfortunately? Yeah, Trace was pretty sure she meant whatever was the opposite of fortunately.

Janus ran at her like a charging bull, knocking aside her bullets with his blackened vytal aura like they were toy bullets. When she reached the last shot in her magazine, she squeezed the trigger, anticipating an aetheric bullet to fire— only to freeze when a regular bullet came out.

She was out of aetheric bullets.

And out of ways to hurt Janus, ostensibly enough.

He screamed incoherently as he grabbed the Mystic Bullet powered by a Shot Amplifier out of the air. Trace noticed his face scrunching up in pain when he caught it, so it meant the regular bullets weren’t completely ineffectively. Nevertheless, Janus fought through the pain and grew angrier, reaching the redhead a moment after. Trace braced herself, flinching as Janus raised a fist—

And Liz slashed the man across the back.

Janus stumbled forward as the Obsidian Longsword tore through his protective aura. Trace quickly backed up and swapped clips while Liz went for his neck next. The Berserker caught the blade, burning eyes staring up at the Swordsmaiden.

“I’ll kill you,” he said his first coherent words in forever.

Liz narrowed her eyes and yanked her sword back. It sliced his forearms, but Janus didn’t look hurt from hit. Only enraged. He threw a thudding blow which she barely managed to parry. Even though Janus struck the flat of her blade with his fist, it should’ve still hurt, yet he marched on.

Trace fired at him from behind, but his protective aura flared once more, blocking the repeated attack. She bit her lower lip, emptying her magazine, hoping that she’d be able to fire a Last in the Chamber. But not enough time had passed.

“Die… die, die, die, die!” Janus yelled, ducking under Liz’s swing and landing a hook to her liver. She grunted, backing up further as he continued to close the distance.

Trace felt her hands shaking as she quickly swapped clips once more. She needed to do something. To somehow catch Janus off-guard— bypass his defences. Right as she raised her pistol again, she was reminded that she wasn’t the only one here other than Liz.

A crossbow bolt shot out, nicking Janus in the leg. The Berserker paused and stared down. It didn’t look like it hurt him. But it had exploded into a web. Some kind of fluid that glued his right leg to the ground. His brows tightened like a fist as he tried to raise his leg—

Only for a crackling bolt of lightning to strike him from behind. It shattered the last of his vytalist aura— the black barrier coating his body dissipated as he shouted in pain.

“You—” he started, only to be cut off by Liz who ran her Obsidian Longsword through his abdomen.

Janus blinked, looking down at the blade. At the blood pouring out of his chest. And at the small trail of smoke that came from the burning enchantment of the Obsidian Longsword.

“I-I…” He fell to one knee as Liz drew the sword back.

“Holy shit, you’re strong,” she panted, flicking the blood off her blade. “But… you lose.”

Sam ran up to Liz’s side, pelting the Berserker with more webs, keeping him down on his knees. Trace sighed in relief, only to find herself nearly falling over. She was caught and steadied right before she fell.

“Are you alright?” Adair said as he helped her up.

“I-I’m fine.” She took in a deep breath. “Just tired.”

“Well, you can rest now.” He smiled, looking over at the kneeling Janus as Sam and Liz stood over him. “We won—”

“No!” Janus yelled.

Trace let go of Adair, quickly aiming her pistol at the Berserker as he shouted. Liz tensed and held up her blade as Sam cursed. But Janus didn’t break free. No more vytal coalesced around him. He just screamed.

“No, no, no, no, no!” He flailed there, tears streaming down his eyes. There was still anger there, but mixed together with a sadness. Not grief— a kind of sadness which Trace and any half-mature adult would recognise.”I can’t lose. I can’t go to jail. You can’t make me go!”

It was a temper-tantrum. The kind a child would throw when they were punished for making a fuss. They all fixed their gazes at Janus as he continued his whining.

“I’m not going to go! I’ll be back! I’ll make you all pay for what you did here! All of you shall suffer! Do you not know who I am?”

Trace stared at this pathetic display. She pursed her lips, at first, in pity. Then her eyes darted to the doorway at the end of the hall. Inside, there were dozens or even hundreds of young women, trapped and defiled by the Onyx Lair Crew. All because of Janus.

So many lives had been lost for no reason. All because of this pathetic loser? The redhead could feel her fingers twitching.

“I am Janus! I am the leader of the Onyx Lair Crew! I will be back— ”

And Trace Taylor pulled the trigger.

Bang.

Killshot Apocalypse 36

[You have defeated  Berserker – Lvl 19!]

Ex’s voice rang in Trace Taylor’s head along with the gunshot reverberating throughout the room. For a moment, she couldn’t hear anything else. Her vision blurred. Her hands shook. Her breathing hastened. Then silence.

Peace.

She’d already made peace with her decision. An eerie calm overcame her. A quietus. Her breathing steadied and mellowed out as her senses came flooding back to her. A hand tried to steady her. Then a voice— a familiar voice. Her best friend’s. Elizabeth Evergreen.

And Trace lowered her pistol.

“Trace— Trace, are you alright?” Liz asked, standing before her with a worried look.

The redhead blinked. She looked at Adair Russell as he steadied her. Just like Liz, he wore a concerned face, although he didn’t say anything.

“I’m fine, guys.” Trace smiled, gently brushing Adair off. “My AI swamped me with a bunch of notifications now that the fighting is over, so I was in a bit of a daze.”

Liz pursed her lips. “Are you sure? Because you kinda, like… executed a man.” She gestured at Janus’ crumpled corpse. “You know, maintain a good mental health is a very—”

Trace rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. I’m fine. I killed a man. With how often I shot at people since… all of this, I knew it’d happen eventually. So, don’t worry too much about me.” She looked over at the door at the end of the hallway. “Anyways, we have other things we need to do.”

“What’s over there, anyways?” Samuel Diaz asked, blinking.

“Erm…” she exchanged a look with her best friend. “It’s a lot to deal with.”

* * *

There were, alas, a lot of notifications to sift through.

[(F+) Magically Enhanced Accuracy has reached level 17!

(F+) Magically Enhanced Accuracy has reached level 18!

(F+) Magically Enhanced Accuracy has reached level 19!

(E-) Quick Fire has reached level 11!

(E-) Quick Fire has reached level 12!

(E-) Quick Fire has reached level 13!

(E) Recall Weapon has reached level 9!

(E) Recall Weapon has reached level 10!

(E+) Vulnerability Vision has reached level 13!

(E+) Vulnerability Vision has reached level 14!

(E+) Last in the Chamber has reached level 10!

(D-) Mystic Bullets has reached level 11!

(D-) Mystic Bullets has reached level 12!

Adept Spellshot has reached level 20!

Adept Spellshot has reached level 21!

Adept Spellshot has reached level 22!]

Name: Trace Taylor

Race: Human (Earth A314)

Class: Adept Spellshot – Lvl 22

Vocation: Augur Architect – Lvl 11

Craft: Tinker – Lvl 4

Traits:

Strength: D-
Magic: D+
Endurance: E+
Vitality: E+
Dexterity: D

Skills:

Class Skills:
(F+) Magically Enhanced Accuracy – Lvl 19
(E-) Quick Fire – Lvl 13
(E) Recall Weapon – Lvl 10
(E+) Vulnerability Vision – Lvl 14
(E+) Last in the Chamber – Lvl 10
(D-) Mystic Bullets – Lvl 12

Vocation Skills:
(F) Hasty Design – Lvl 4
(E-) Magically Makeshift Materials – Lvl 3
(E) Silent Construction – Lvl 2
(E+) Restoration and Creation – Lvl 3
(D-) Architect’s Hand – Lvl 3

Craft Skills:
(F-) Tinker’s Mind – Lvl 5
(F+) Upgraded Schematics – Lvl 1
(E-) Immersed Perception – Lvl 4

She’d gotten into many fights since this mission began, so as expected, she levelled up a tonne. Janus was her only proper kill, though, while everyone else was left injured and alive. One of her Skills, Magically Enhanced Accuracy, was getting close to level 20. Trace wasn’t sure what the max level for each Skill was after her class evolution, but it exceeded level 10 like it was prior to it.

Perhaps her Skills would max out at level 20, this time. Or maybe level 30. Or maybe each Skill had a different level cap. She didn’t know. She would think about it later. For now, her attention was drawn to something else.

Freeing the women.

Honestly, the redhead didn’t consider the logistics behind saving the kidnapped women when she decided to do this. And, well, the logistics was a pain in the ass. Or a pain in the arse. Or it was both— it was a pain in the arse and a pain in the ass. Because that was show much of a pain it was.

There were a lot of women trapped in a long room, all chained to posts and wearing the bare minimum of clothing. At first, when Trace said that they were free, they were dubious. However, once she went down the line along with Liz, Sam, and Adair, releasing them from their bindings, they were beyond grateful.

Many of the women broke down crying at Trace’s feet, thanking her profusely. It pained the redhead. It really did. To see their suffering and pain. But she was glad that she could be the one help them escape.

“Thank you… thank you so much…” an older woman— perhaps in her mid-thirties— spoke in behalf of them. She was a level 9 Spellcaster. The highest-levelled woman in the room, besides Trace and Liz. Her head hung low as she spoke gratefully. “You are truly amazing people.”

“O-oh, it’s, erm…” Trace didn’t know what to say.

Sam, however, had a few words to… wel,, preach. “It’s no problem at all!” He gave them a cheery thumbs-up. “We, at the Precursors of Peace, are more than happy to help those in need. That is our mantra, actually. To protect the weak!”

The redhead glared at him from the side, but she didn’t make a fuss about it. The women needed reassuring words right now. They also needed a semblance of normalcy. Someone to help them feel like their nightmare would finally end.

Personally, Trace thought it was tactless to advocate for the Precursors of Peace here. But it seemed to be working. They asked Sam questions— they were given hope that they have a place to return to that was safe now that it was all over. Although, these women would be a bit puzzled when they found themselves at the commune rather than at the Precursors’ headquarters.

The next step now was to actually get them out. Until they had left the Onyx Lair ,they were still, in a sense, captives. Trace had been worried that they’d need to fight their way out. That fear almost came true when they exited the room with the women, only to find nearly twenty men waiting just outside with weapons.

However, the instant they saw Trace and Liz standing next to Janus’ corpse, they dropped their weapons. Throwing their hands in the air, they shouted ,”We surrender!”

“That… was easier than I thought.”

None of the remaining Onyx Lair Crew members put up a fight when they encountered Trace’s group. They either ran or surrendered on the spot. Especially when they heard that Janus was dead. Now, the logistics grew a lot more fuck-y.

Here was Trace, Liz, Sam, and Adair escorting a hundred women and dozens of gang members out of the Dungeon. The group had to spread out wide to ensure that all ends were covered. To be honest, the redhead felt pretty fucking exhausted. Her everything ached. Yet, after levelling up, it seemed like she had regained some strength and even recovered a bit from her injuries. It was weird, but she knew better than to question how that worked at this point.

Still, even if she wasn’t feeling as bad as she was in the middle of battle, she just wanted to go home.

The moment she spotted Jeremy standing outside of the Onyx Lair with his group of officers, she passed the burden on to him. He was far better organised than Trace since managing and looking after people was part of his job. With that, she retired to the side and just stumble-walked slightly apart from the group.

Adair joined her, although Liz and Sam were stuck with helping Jeremy out— much to the latter’s chagrin. He saw Adair wondering close to the redhead and moved  to intercept him before being dragged back by his responsibilities.

“Can you walk, Trace Taylor?” He proffered her a hand, and she took it.

“Of course I can. If I couldn’t, I’d be lying on the floor right now. Still kind of hurts, though.”

She chuckled, grimacing as she took each step. He supported her as they trudged alongside the abandoned road back to Liberapolis. There were abandoned cars taking up the actual tarmac— monsters and accidents led to the jamming up of all roads going out of cities. Adair’s gaze swung around the broken windows of the vehicles before he spoke in a soft voice.

“Trace Taylor, I have to say, I believe that you are a very strong young woman.” He stared forward, not meeting the redhead’s gaze.

She raised a brow. “What brought that up?”

“It is nothing. I am just comparing my own experiences with yours.”

“Experience with… walking?”

“Hmm, no.” He didn’t elaborate.

It puzzled Trace a tiny bit, but it clearly looked like Adair wanted the topic to end here, so she didn’t press him any further.

“I’m just glad we can finally fucking go back,” she sighed. “Holy shit, I’m tired of fighting.”

“Agreed. It is tiresome. Although, not all of us seems to be too bothered by it.” His eyes darted over Liz who was marching ahead, sword raised and ready to face any monsters that would pop out from the forest surrounding them.

“Liz has always been eccentric. Full of too much energy and not quite alright in the head.”

“Isn’t she your best friend?”

“I know,” Trace snorted. “That’s why I can say that. And it’s why we’re best friends. Both of us have always been kind of abnormal, so we naturally gravitated to each other.”

“I see.” He looked at the redhead, eyes narrowed.

“What?”

“It’s nothing. We just have a little further to go until we reach Liberapolis.”

“Fucking finally,” Trace said, relieved. “I really need a bath right now.”

Killshot Apocalypse 37

A bath.

How would you take a bath without power?

Well, one would just grab a towel, dip it in some water, and wipe themselves off. That was basically how Trace Taylor had been doing it ever since the power went out. Unfortunately, it was not as hygienic or as refreshing as bathing in a real shower.

It annoyed the redhead quite a bit. She really wished she could just soak in a hot tub and let all her worries melt away. Well, apparently, that seemingly unattainable dream was now plausible.

“H-how? …” Trace stared at Brandon with wide eyes as he beamed.

“We managed to connect the power grid in this block to our magitech generator,” he said, gesturing at the sink. He turned the tap and water poured out— actual hot water. “The generator can’t power the whole commune just yet, and we can’t keep it active twenty-four-seven, but we can keep it active long enough for you to take a quick bath.”

“Make that a long bath.” She switched off the tap, not wanting to waste any precious hot water. “Now, where’s the bathroom?”

Brandon, however, was uncertain. “But Liz and the others will want—”

“I’m fine,” a voice cut him off. Elizabeth Evergreen sat on the sofa in the breakroom of the police station. “I just wanna lie down and sleep.”

“I do suggest at least considering a bath,” Adair Russell piped up from beside her, pinching his nose.

“Hey, are you saying I smell?”

“Ah, as you would say it— no cap.”

“That’s not what that means—”

Trace shrugged, turning back to Brandon. “There you have it.”

“You can find the showers down the hall to the left.” The Magitech Engineer pointed past her. “No one should be using them right now, so you’ve got it all to yourself.”

* * *

“Ouch— fuck.” The redhead grimaced as she put on her clothes after her bath was finished.

[Is something the matter, Trace Taylor?] Ex asked, concerned. [Was the shower not to your liking?]

“No, Ex. It was fine. It was mostly relaxing. But my everything still fucking hurts.”

Putting on socks was especially hard considering the damage she’d taken to her leg— self-inflicted, too. She had the brilliant idea of using Last in the Chamber to propel her away from Janus. However, even though she had been bleeding her…

Trace ran a hand over her skin. She flinched. It still hurt. The flesh was tender and soft, stained with dried blood. Other than walking with a bit of a limp? She was fine.

And that continued to amaze the redhead.

“How?”

[Did I not explain this before, Trace Taylor? Your heightened vitality allows you to recover from wounds far faster than as a regular, unenhanced human.”

“It’s just that… I expected to be out of commission for a while.” Trace laughed as she got to her feet. “But I think I’ll be fully recovered in a day or two now.”

[Is that not a good thing?] Ex asked, intrigued.

“Normally, yes. But when you want to shirk your duties and just rest for a few days, it becomes problematic.”

[Affirmative. It seems there is still a lot I have yet to learn about how humans work.]

“That you do,” Trace laughed and started for the locker room’s exit. She paused when she saw a figure standing there.

“Am I interrupting?” Veronica Vargas smiled as she lightly rapped against the doorway.

Instantly, the redhead flushed and stumbled back. “No— I mean, I was just talking to…”

“Your AI, right.”

“R-right. How’d you know that?” Trace stared at the police chief.

“I do that, too— when I’m alone,” Veronica said, entering the locker room. “We all do. Don’t be too embarrassed about it.”

That didn’t do much to reassure the redhead. Quickly changing the subject, she said, “So, what’s up Veronica?”

“I heard about what happened at the Onyx Lair.”

“Oh, that.”

Veronica stopped right before her. “Liz and Adair are worried about you. You… went through a lot. Firstly, with the women. And the fighting. But most importantly—”

“I killed a man, right,” Trace said, shifting her legs. “I don’t see why that matters. He was a dipshit— a grade A fuckface. He deserved it.”

“I know. But even then, you’re young. You’ve never… done anything right it before. It can be traumatic for someone your age.”

“I appreciate your concern for my mental health, Veronica, I really do. But I’m fine.” She started for the doorway, but Veronica raised a hand to stop her.

“I knew you’d say that. It’s hard to accept help when you don’t want it. Honestly, I was like you once.” The police chief chuckled.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Hardheaded,” she said without hesitation. “With a sense of justice.”

“I know you meant that as a compliment, but I take slight offence to how quickly you said that.” Trace scowled.

“You should. It’s not always a good thing.” Veronica grinned as the scowl on Trace’s face tightened. “Look, it has its ups. You wouldn’t be who you are if you weren’t as stubborn as you are. But there are downsides, too.”

“What kind of downsides, huh? That I’m an idiot?”

“No, that you’ll push yourself too hard and reach a breaking point because of it.”

“That doesn’t sound like me at all.” Trace folded her arms. “I’ve never had a breakdown or anything like that.”

“What about lashing out at others?”

Trace blinked. Her fists tightened as she thought about her parents— all the arguments they often had. It felt like it was all over petty reasons now, but she remembered the pressure she felt. The expectations they had of her. It was not what she wanted at all. And that resulted in their clashes.

“That’s…”

“I get you, Trace. I really do.” Veronica placed a hand on the redhead’s right shoulder. “That’s why I’m going to ask you to take a break.”

“A break?”

“Take the next week off. You don’t have to force yourself, Trace. I know I pushed these responsibilities on you, but you’re still young. You deserve to rest.”

It sounded enticing, but— “But what about Liz? Or Adair? Or even Jeremy and the officers?”

“The new recruits will be given some time to recuperate as well.” The police chief nodded reassuringly at Trace. “And I told Liz to take a break, too, but whether or not she’ll actually rest or go delving into a Dungeon is not something I’d be able to ensure.”

“…of course.” Knowing the sable-tressed Swordsmaiden, Trace was sure it was likely going to be the latter option.

“But you?” Veronica shook her head. “You want to take a long break, don’t you?”

“I actually do,” the redhead admitted.

“So, take it. Go back to The Evergreen Gun Range and take a long nap. Laze around. Maybe read a few books. I even have a few Superman comic books lying around from my childhood I could lend you.”

“Oh, that’s fine—”

[Accept it, Trace Taylor,] Ex quickly said, before the redhead could turn the offer down.

“I mean— I’d greatly appreciate it, Veronica.”

The police chief smiled for a moment. But when Trace asked the next question, she pursed her lips.

“What about Adair?” Trace asked. “You didn’t mention him.”

“Adair is… more complicated.” Veronica sighed.

“How so?”

“Let’s just say we’ll need his help with things, alright?” She waved a hand dismissively. “His expertise is needed for a few things.”

“Hmm, alright.” Clearly, Veronica didn’t want to talk about it, so Trace didn’t prod her further. Still, the question sat on the back of her mind, even as she accepted her brief break.

Once the police chief left, Trace found herself walking down the halls of the stations, speaking to her AI.

[Why do you seem displeased?]

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She closed her eyes as she took in a heavy breath. “Here I am, taking a vacation, as others continue to work tirelessly, just because I may be traumatised over giving some bastard what he deserves.”

[So, you do not find murder to be upsetting, then,] Ex said, to which she backtracked a bit.

“It is… kind of upsetting. But more in the, ‘Why the fuck are you such a bloody arsehole,’ kind of way. Like, ‘I wouldn’t have to do this if you had some basic human decency, fucking prick,’ kind of upset.”

[That seems very specific.]

“It is very specific.” Trace blinked as she stepped out of the police station and into the streets of the commune. She shivered, adjusting her red scarf. “Fuck, it’s cold.”

The city was painted more gloomily than usual than usual. The dead trees desaturated the scenery— there were no longer carpets of dried autumn leaves smearing the concrete pavements with vibrant shades ranging from beige to ocher. Death which had coloured the city with a final breath of life just before the coming of winter.

Trace glanced back once. “If Brandon doesn’t get the power running for the entire commune before snow starts to fall, then…” A lot of people were going to die from the freezing weather.

[That does not seem likely,] Ex interjected. [With the prevalence of magic, creating a simple fire for heating would not be too difficult.]

“Not everyone is a Spellcaster, Ex.” Trace rolled her eyes, starting down the street. “And not everyone is just blindly throwing themselves into dangerous situations to level up. Even if one in every hundred people in the commune die to the cold, that’s still dozens or even hundreds of preventable deaths. Maybe thousands if the commune continues to grow at the current rate over the next month or two.”

[I think I can see your point.]

A few folks waved at Trace as she made her way back to The Evergreen Gun Range. Her face and her name was starting to spread around the commune. At this point, most people had heard of the redheaded girl with a gun who protected the city.

It embarrassed Trace a little bit. Not enough to stop her from being polite and waving back, but it definitely caused her face to burn even in the chilly autumn weather.

“I hate this attention.”

“Trace!” a familiar voice called out.

The redhead blinked and turned to the middle-aged couple. Meryl and Stan, friends she made while working on the wall, approached her. Their necks were wrapped with towels, and they looked tired, as though they had just left the construction site a few minutes ago. Which made sense since The Evergreen Gun Range was quite close to the commune’s edges.

“It has been a while since we last saw you,” Stan said, panting slightly. “Where have you been?”

“Don’t be so imposing. You’re too direct at times, dear.”

Trace smiled as she glanced between the two Builders. “Hey Stan, hey Meryl. Sorry I haven’t been helping out at the wall recently. Duty calls, y’know?” She gestured at her sidearm, only to realise that it mgiht’ve seemed like a threat a moment after.

Fortunately, neither interpreted it as such. “Is it because of that incident with that gang a few days ago?” Merely leaned forward conspiratorially. “I heard they set fire to a few apartments and injured a dozen officers.”

“It’s not a secret, but yeah.”

“Oh, dear.”

“What? What happened?” Stan frowned, putting a hand to his ear. “Something about a deer?”

“That’s not it at all. It’s about that gang,” Meryl said.

“What? That thang?”

“That gang,” she raised her voice.

Stan snapped his fingers. “Right. Those thugs everyone’s been yapping about.”

Trace stared with a raised brow, slightly confused. “Erm, is something wrong?”

Meryl turned to her and apologised. “Sorry, his hearing aids broke the other day.” The older woman gestured at Stan as he played with something in his ear. “I think it might’ve been because of all the loud noises in the construction site.”

“I just can’t seem to get this darn thing to work,” the middle-aged man grumbled as he removed his hearing aid.

The redhead glanced between the pair. Her gaze fixed on the small gadget Stan was holding. “Actually, can I take a look at that?” she asked loudly.

“What? This thing? Sure.” Stan’s voice was in a state of permanent talk-yelling. It made Trace flinch a little, but she knew it wasn’t because he was being rude.

She accepted the hearing aid and peered at it, all sorts of thoughts and ideas running through her head. “I… can fix this,” she finally said.

“You can?” Meryl stared at her, a pleasant look of surprise on her face. “Well, it makes sense. Kids these days are good with electronics, right?”

“No, it’s not that.” Trace laughed softly. “It’s my craft. As a Tinker, I can fix and create things. And according to my skill, Tinker’s Mind, I can fix this without a problem.”

“What?” Stan asked, and Meryl sighed.

“Trace says she can help fix your hearing aid.” The older woman pressed her lips into a thin line. “Are you sure, Trace? We don’t want to trouble you…”

“It’s fine, really.” Trace smiled, waving a hand off. “It’s no trouble at all.”

“What?” Stan said and turned to her. “Are you sure? We don’t want to trouble you,” he repeated his wife’s question.

“Oh, stop it, you. Trace already said yes.” Meryl spoke loudly into his ear. “Say thank you.”

“Ouch, you don’t need to yell, woman.” He rubbed at his ear as she rolled her eyes. “Thank you, Trace.”

The redhead once again found herself in an uncomfortable position. “O-of course. I’ll return the hearing aid to you by tomorrow, alright? See you guys around!” She hurriedly took her leave and waved goodbye at the couple.

“Look, all your yelling scared her away.”

“What? She’s three times my level, Meryl. How am I scaring—”

Once she was far enough away, Trace took a look at the hearing aid once more. She rubbed her thumb over it as her lips curled up into a grin. “I think I just found out how to spend my time over this break, Ex,” she said and pocketed it. “We’re going to level up my craft.”

Her AI’s response was not what she expected. [Aw, I thought we were finally going to get to read superhero comic books.]

Trace snorted. “We are. But we’ll be doing this on the side as well. Just because I’m on break doesn’t mean I’m going to literally just sit around and spend all day and night doing nothing productive.”

Ex paused. [Why not? …]

Killshot Apocalypse 38

Trace Taylor was on break.

Or was it vacation? Holiday, maybe? She didn’t know the technical term for it, but the point was, she had time off. Not that she was even being paid to begin with…

Alright, to be more specific, the redhead was told to rest after the whole ordeal with the Onyx Lair Crew. And so, she did. She sat in The Evergreen Gun Range, flipping through comic books for Ex’s viewing pleasure as her best friend went Dungeon delving.

Elizabeth Evergreen had been given the same time off as Trace, but she has a different definition of enjoying herself. Fighting monsters and levelling up was what the Swordsmaiden reveled in— that was where she shone. And with Ken, Jakob, and Kat now paying the occasional visit to The Evergreen Gun Range, it was easier for them to plan their excursion into Dungeons.

“We’ll be going to Pondmaw’s Creek,” Liz said, waving at the redhead. “It’s a D rank Dungeon. Don’t worry too much, though. We’re mostly scouting it out for now.”

“Are you sure you’ll be fine?” The redhead pursed her lips. “I hear that those have level 30 monsters inside.”

“Once you get past the starting area, yeah. But before you get that far in they’re like mid level 20s at the most.”

“Even still, that’s pretty dangerous. What if…” Trace trailed off, thinking of the Bne Worldleater. “What if there’s something wrong. Like with the Dire Pits?”

“It’s fine.” Liz waved a hand off. “We handled that durable serpentfiend without a problem, right? I’ll live.”

“You better,” the redhead said. Then she turned to the trio waiting by the doorway. “And you guys better look after her.”

Kat snorted. “Fucking, she’s the one who’ll be looking after us. Seriously, she’s level 24 now. How the hell does she do it?”

“Don’t worry, Trace,” Ken said reassuringly. “We’ll stop her from being too reckless.”

Jakob didn’t say anything. He seemed bored, in fact. Judging by the way he fidgeted and glanced back towards the exit, he definitely didn’t want to be here.

Well, Trace didn’t think much of it. He was always a bit aloof, anyways.

“Take care, Liz!” she bade farewell to her best friend.

With that, she was left alone in The Evergreen Gun Range. And her attention was drawn to the picture book she had in front of her. A graphic novel. Or, rather, a comic.

It wasn’t a voluntary reflex to face the comic. In fact, she was being egged on by the voice inside of her head.

[Stop being so dramatic, Liz will be back just fine as usual,] Ex rushed her. [Now hurry up and continue. I want to know what happens next. Does Batman really not just kill the Joker there and then?”]

“No, Ex. It goes against his moral code.” Trace rolled her eyes as she flipped through the pages of the comic issue. Veronica Vargas had lent it to her— or, more appropriately, given it.

[Spoilers.]

“You asked. Also, I don’t read comics. I may be wrong. I just know the general idea behind each superhero.”

Trace wasn’t too keenly interested in the contents of the comic. Fortunately for her, Ex could read through a page in a few seconds. She was basically just turning the pages as her eyes glazed over the colourful pictures.

[I don’t get it,] the AI finally said as they reached the end of the specific issue.

“What’s there not to get?” The redhead yawned, closing the comic book shut.

Ex remained quiet for a moment. In thought. After the moment’s rumination, he asked, [Why would he keep throwing them to jail if they just break out and cause more trouble?]

“I told you, didn’t I? It goes against their moral code.”

[Affirmative. But isn’t a superhero’s job to save innocent lives? They’re endangering more lives than they save by adhering to this rule.]

Trace tilted her head back, even as Ex continued.

[It is faulty logic. And they’re supposed to be geniuses, aren’t they? How is it that these superheroes never once considered the consequences of their moral code.]

Trace thought of Janus. She had executed him because he posed a threat to the lives of those living in the commune, particularly her friends. However, she couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t motivated by ulterior motivates. A sheer, unrelenting anger. A rage that someone as evil as him could continue to live despite ruining so many other lives.

From the women in the Onyx Lair, to the family Trace had seen lying dead in their homes. The Onyx Lair Crew had not been merciful to anyone; she became the judge, the jury, and the executioner, but only for the sake of her own self.

Sighing, she got to her feet. “Well, with great power comes great responsibility, right?” the redhead said with a shrug. “These comic books aren’t real life, of course. They’re just fiction. But I think the message they’re trying to send is you shouldn’t have control over the fate of another’s life if you’re at the whims of your own emotion. It’s not true justice, or whatever.”

[…then, Trace Taylor, if you were given the opportunity to spare or kill Janus once again, would you do it?]

“I would,” she answered without hesitation. “But this time, I won’t do it out of anger. I would do it because he’s a bloody menace.”

Apart from self-reflection, Trace’s time during her brief break was spent doing other things. Specifically, levelling up in her craft.

As a Tinker, she’d been severely under-levelled compared to both her class and her vocation. Although, her class was double that of her vocation’s level, too. Still, that didn’t mean there wasn’t some catching up to do for her craft.

So, she laboured away. Trace had put out an open offer to everyone in the commune: swing by The Evergreen Gun Range with simple gadget and electronics, and she’d repair them… eventually.

It wasn’t hard, considering she had access to quite a few unique tools from her original Dungeon-run. And with Liz constantly heading out and returning with cool little gadgets, typically with aetheric shards woven into their material, Trace could harvest parts to add a magical flair to modern-day electronics.

“Thank you, Trace,” Meryl said, as her husband, Stan, blinked a few times behind her. “You really did us a big favour.”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all.” The redhead smiled.

“No problem at all?” Stan gaped, gesturing at the object his ear. “You just fixed my hearing aid and improved its battery life! And now you’re saying I don’t need to charge it anymore?”

“You don’t need electricity to charge it,” she corrected him. “You still have got to visit the police station to charge it. Brandon has an orgone generator up and running. Some magitech stuff, they’re calling it. He’ll probably get it working for the whole commune soon, too.”

“You guys are a miracle-workers.” He shook his head.

“Honestly, we didn’t think things would ever return to normal every since the Neo Genesis.” His wife placed a hand on his shoulder. “But with you guys around, I think everything will be just fine.”

Trace found herself flushing and scratching the back of her head. “I mean… we’re just trying out best to help. We’re not really special or anything.”

“Just keep saying that,” Stan scoffed and grinned. “But we all know better.”

It was really, really embarrassing for the redhead to be at the centre of attention. Even after the middle-aged couple took their leave, she still felt her face burning as she slumped over the counter.

“Bloody… why are people so nice.”

[Are you too used to swearing at others to hold a normal conversation?]

“Piss off, Ex. I don’t swear that much.”

[Negative,] the AI said. [Just today, you have said ‘fuck’ a total of seventeen times, ‘bitch’ a total of three times, ‘asshole’ a total of four times, ‘arsehole’ a total of once, ‘piss’ a total of thirty—]

“Ok, ok, fuck’s sake. I get it.”

[…correction, you have now said ‘fuck’ a total of eighteen—]

“And it’s only three o’ clock, yes, I know.” Trace straightened and crossed her arms. “Look, it’s instinct, at this point. I don’t really mean anything bad by cursing. What matters is the tone. There is no actual animosity there, and if there was, you can tell simply by the way I say it.”

[I am aware,] Ex said as she started back into her workshop.

Which was… well, the kitchen.

[However, I am participating in the human concept of ‘banter’ where I tease you over a certain, inoffensive character trait of yours. Although, I can see why that’d be hard for you to comprehend, as your entire character is rather offensive.]

“Oh, piss—” She bit her lower lip. “I mean… screw off?”

[I would still count ‘screw’ as a vulgarity due to the context.]

“Well, you’re just being a pedant, then.”

Trace ignored his rebuttal, picking up some of the tools she had lain on the kitchen table. Right now, she was in the middle of fixing a broken smartphone. Or, rather, modifying its battery to be rechargeable via magical means. After all, without any power, the smartphone had been dead for weeks.

“Hey, Ex. How far have I progressed in my craft since starting this, anyways?” Her notifications were set to ‘on request’ so it wouldn’t disturb her when she was concentrating on something.

[(F-) Tinker’s mind has reached level 6!

(F-) Tinker’s mind has reached level 7!

(F-) Tinker’s mind has reached level 8!

(F-) Tinker’s mind has reached level 9!

(F-) Tinker’s mind has reached level 10!

(F-) Tinker’s mind has reached max level!

(F+) Upgraded Schematics has reached level 2!

(F+) Upgraded Schematics has reached level 3!

(E-) Immersed Perception has reached level 5!

(E-) Immersed Perception has reached level 6!

(E-) Immersed Perception has reached level 7!

Tinker has reached level 5!

Tinker has reached level 6!

Tinker has reached level 7!

Tinker has reached level 8!]

Name: Trace Taylor

Race: Human (Earth A314)

Class: Adept Spellshot – Lvl 22

Vocation: Augur Architect – Lvl 11

Craft: Tinker – Lvl 8

Traits:

Strength: D-
Magic: D+
Endurance: E+
Vitality: E+
Dexterity: D

Skills:

Class Skills:
(F+) Magically Enhanced Accuracy – Lvl 19
(E-) Quick Fire – Lvl 13
(E) Recall Weapon – Lvl 10
(E+) Vulnerability Vision – Lvl 14
(E+) Last in the Chamber – Lvl 10
(D-) Mystic Bullets – Lvl 12

Vocation Skills:
(F) Hasty Design – Lvl 4
(E-) Magically Makeshift Materials – Lvl 3
(E) Silent Construction – Lvl 2
(E+) Restoration and Creation – Lvl 3
(D-) Architect’s Hand – Lvl 3

Craft Skills:
(F-) Tinker’s Mind – Lvl 10
(F+) Upgraded Schematics – Lvl 3
(E-) Immersed Perception – Lvl 7

Trace was getting close to her craft’s evolution. It was only two more levels now. She’d have wanted all her skills to be maxed when that happened, and while it was plausible with Immersed Perception, it definitely wasn’t possible with Upgraded Schematics.

It had only levelled twice since she got the skill. It had a lot less utility than her other two skills, even if it was incredibly useful. For example, it applied in situations like these— where the redhead was attempting to upgrade an electronic to a magical electronic.

And the fact that it could only be used once a week made it even harder to level. Quite a massive drawback, really. But still, useful.

“And done,” Trace said after barely ten minutes of work. The smartphone was now a magical smartphone, rank G. “I’ll just give this to Brandon to charge and then I’ll return it to the owner…”

She stepped out of he kitchen, only to hear a rapping at the front door. Her eyes narrowed, and she reached for her gun, but she didn’t grow overly alert and wary. She’d been getting a visitor a day since she announced she was doing tool repairs.

“Who is it?” the redhead called out.

“A customer,” a familiar voice said. “A handsome customer, at that.”

Frowning, Trace walked up to the door and unlatched its locks before pulling it open. “Sam?”

“Sup.” Samuel Diaz winked at her. She stepped back, and he entered The Evergreen Gun Range. “So, this is what the place looks like when it’s not torn up, huh?”

“Yeah— I mean, what are you doing here?” Trace blinked.

“Can’t a man just drop by to visit his friend once in a while?”

“Don’t you have matters to attend to for the Precursors of Peace? If you have something for me to fix, you can just leave it at the counter.” She gestured past him, but he shook his head.

“Actually, Trace,” he said, pocketing his hands. “I’m not here for that. I’m here for you.”

Killshot Apocalypse 39

“You’re here for me?”

Trace Taylor stared quizzically at the person standing before her. He was Samuel Diaz, someone who she had met in the middle of battle. They weren’t close friends, per se— although, he’d been quite helpful and kind to her. He had even gone as far as to accompany her into the Onyx Lair to face those thugs who attacked the commune.

But, above all that, he was a member of the Precursors of Peace. When he first introduced himself, he told her he was after Adair Russell’s life. And that… that might’ve been why he was here.

Sam was a terrorist. She’d forgotten that. He was a murderer who played an important role in a terrorist organisation. If he was here for her, that only meant one thing: she was going to be his hostage to lure out Adair.

A tense moment of silence passed as the redhead stood, frozen. An icy drop of sweat slipped down her neck, and she licked her dry lips.

“I-I…”

“Yeah, I’m here for you,” Sam said, his lips curling up into an eerie grin.

“W-why? …” she trailed off.

“Well, I heard that you’re free for the next few days, so I was wondering if you wanted to hang out and grab lunch sometime.” He winked at her.

“Wait…” She stared at him. “What?”

“I mean, if you don’t want to grab lunch, we could always grab dinner too. I know it’s getting kind of late, but we can maybe go tomorrow if your schedule is clear?”

“No, no, no, Sam, start from the beginning,” she said, cutting him off.

“Start from the beginning?” He blinked. “Uh, well, I’m here for you—”

“Alright, I get that.” Trace shuffled her feet, stepping back. “But you’re here to ask me for…”

“Your schedule,” Sam said. “We can grab a bite to eat. I’m sure you’re getting tired eating canned food all the time, right? We can get some better grub—”

“I think I get it now.” She clapped her hands together and ducked her head. “You’re asking me out… on a date.”

“Yeah? Was it not obvious?” He gave her a puzzled look.

She hesitated. “I… I mean, this is like…”

He frowned, tapping a hand on his chin. “Wait, actually, are you into wom—”

“I am into men. I may be into women, too? But that doesn’t matter. It’s just that this is… so sudden.” Trace shifted, slightly embarrassed. “I have never been asked out by a guy before. And you showed out of the blue to ask me out on a date? How am I supposed to react?”

“Well, I would’ve texted you, but you know…” He gestured vaguely at everything. “I can’t.”

“R-right.” She shuffled, blinking. “Wait, where exactly are we going to be eating at?”

“Oh, there’s a new restaurant that opened up recently. An Italian place— serves really good pasta.”

She gave him a flat stare. “A new restaurant.”

“Yeah.”

“During the apocalypse.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know what you guys in this commune are going, but over at our haven, we have a pretty rich community growing.”

“Your haven… you mean the Precursors of Peace’s hideout?” The redhead frowned.

“You say that like we’re bunch of pirates hiding from the British.” Sam smirked and faced her. “But that can’t be the case as I’d very much like the British find me.”

“Sam… that was fucking terrible.”

He flushed. “I know.” Then he chuckled. “Still, what do you think?”

Sam looked at her expectantly. She still hadn’t given him an answer. A date really wasn’t anything too serious, but she was so caught off-guard she had nothing to say just yet. After taking in a deep breath, she sighed.

“I’ll think about it, alright? I’ll give you a proper answer in two— no, three days’ time.”

“Works for me. See you again in three days, alright?” He started out the door, facing Trace with an almost childish smile.

“Erm, sure.” She waved him goodbye as he left.

Then she closed the door shut and slumped into a chair, completely exhausted. The redhead massaged her temples, letting out a groan.

“What just happened?”

[Trace Taylor, were you not about to depart for the police station?] Ex answered her rhetorical question.

“That wasn’t a real q—” she started.

[And that wasn’t a real answer.]

Trace rolled her eyes. She sat there for a moment, thinking one what to do. It was a dilemma she didn’t expect to run into when she woke up this morning. She’d been prepared for anything, these days. For terrorists— since the Precursors of Peace lived right next door. For monsters. For more brigands or gangsters.

Fuck’s sake, she’d even been prepared for Ex to go rogue and kill her from inside of her head.

[I would never do such a thing,] the AI said, indignant. [How could you accuse me of such a thing? I will sue you for defamation—]

And yet, the redhead was stumped and defeated because of this.

[Are you listening to me—]

She didn’t know what to say to Sam. He was… not bad looking at all. Conventionally attractive, at least. And he had a fun and easygoing personality that would make him good boyfriend material.

Problem was, he was… a terrorist.

Samuel Diaz, as established earlier, was part of the Precursors of Peace. He literally wanted to kill one of Trace’s friend. So, how was she going to approach this?

[Can you not just reject him?] Ex suggested.

“What?” The redhead blinked. “Of course not. I’m not even sure if I like him yet or anything.”

[Are you interested?]

She shrugged. “I can’t lie and say I’m not. But more than that— what if I do reject him… and he gets upset?” Her lips pursed as she considered that possibility. “What happens then?”

[Is that a problem?]

“It… depends.”

[On?] Ex asked, waiting expectantly.

“On how he reacts— I’d much rather not burn bridges, alright? He’s a… friend, I think. Even if he’s a potential terrorist.”

[Hmm, and why does that not disqualify him from being a friend but disqualifies him from being a potential significant other?]

“It’s just different,” she said. “I don’t know.”

[That does not seem very logical.]

“I’m just airing my worries here, alright?” Trace snorted.

[And I am trying to offer my perspective.]

“Look, things like love and relationships aren’t very… rational. It’s fucking stupid.”

[Then, if you’re thinking about it with a rational lens, is that not obvious you are not interested in him beyond being a friend?] Ex said, and she was baffled.

“I… guess.” She sighed, wanting to melt into her chair and just do nothing for the rest of the day. “It’s just a pain in the arse.”

To think that the biggest problem she had to deal with since the apocalypse wasn’t aliens or monsters or humans. It was the issue of relationships. It always was.

* * *

“You were asked out on a date?” Elizabeth Evergreen gaped at her best friend. The Swordsmaiden was drenched in sweat and blood and much, but before she had the chance to take a bath, she found more pressing matters to attend to. “What was it? Was he hot? Please tell me it ain’t nother creepy old guy, right?”

“No, it’s not,” the redhead said. “Unless you think Samuel Diaz is a creepy old guy. Which I highly doubt. He looks like he’s in his early twenties at the most.”

“Sam, huh? I knew he had the hots for you. Didn’t think he’d act so quick, though.”

“You knew he was interested?”

“Of course,” Liz scoffed. “You’re just pretty daft when it comes to these things.”

“Ugh, I’m not going to be lectured by you, too.” Trace buried her head in her hands.

“Me, too?”

“Nothing.”

“Look,” her best friend said, crossing her arms, “if you end up dating Sam, I will wholly support you, Trace. He’s Gucci dude— passes the vibe check and all that.”

“Isn’t he a terrorist?” Trace gave Liz a flat stare.

“He has saved our lives a few times. He even helped us when we didn’t ask for help— when the Onyx Lair Crew attacked. C’mon, Trace. Give him a chance.”

“Fine,” the redhead finally acquiesced. “But if I end up dead in a dumpster because I rejected him at the end of the date, it’s your fault.”

“Don’t worry, if he does that, I’ll make sure the Precursors of Peace won’t even be an organisation, let alone a designated terrorist organisation, anymore.” Liz raised a fist, grinning viciously.

“Why won’t I be surprised if that actually happens.” Trace chuckled.

She got to her feet, walking past Liz who was sat at the living room table.

“Where’re you going?” the sable-tressed woman asked. “You’ve barely eaten any dinner.”

“I’m full. Plus, I’ve got to charge this phone— to return it to the owner. So, I’m going to ask Brandon to lend me some of his magitech generator’s energy.” The redhead waved a hand off. “Just eat without me, I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Alright, seeya. Although…” Liz hesitated.

“Although, what?”

“Nothing— good luck!” A mischievous grin spread across her face, leaving Trace rather perplexed.

“I wonder what that’s about.”

* * *

“Thank you for lending me some power for this, Brandon.” Trace smiled at her old friend and boxing coach.

He wore a towel over his neck, sweating from the long hours he spent working on creating enough magitech generators for the commune. “It’s no problem, Trace. I see you’ve been busy as well,” Brandon said.

“Yeah, well, not anymore, I guess.” She handed the smartphone to him, and he connected it to an outlet that powered the magic battery within it.

“Something going on?”

“I’ll be going on a… date.” It was odd just saying it.

“A date, huh? Is this your first time going on one?”

“N-no.” Now, that was embarrassing to say. Trace was eighteen years old and had never gone out with anyone before. “Is that a bad thing?”

Brandon placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Just don’t worry too much about it. The main mistake everyone makes on their first date is that they get too nervous and overthink things. Be yourself, and—”

The door behind them swung open, and a familiar man entered the room. The redhead turned to face the visitor.

“Trace Taylor?” Adair said, raising a brow. “I heard you were on break. Is it already over?”

The redhead shook her head. “No, I just needed to borrow your guys’ magitech generator for a bit.”

“Yeah, although she’s also getting some dating advice from me.” Brandon laughed. “I’m really surprised, Trace. You’d think Liz would be the one between you two who would have never gone on a date before.”

“Oh,” Trace said, scoffing, “Liz has gone on plenty of dates. She’s popular with the guys, unlike me.”

Adair blinked as he glanced between the two of them. “Pardon me, but I am still not clear as to what is going on. Trace Taylor, am I to understand that you’re going on a… date?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong?” She turned to him, confused.

“I…” he trailed off, mouth hanging ajar.

What, was it that ridiculous to believe that she of all people was going on a date? The redhead massaged her temples.

“Look, it’s not even a proper date, anyways. The world is fucked, and it’s with Sam, so don’t expect much from it, alright?”

Adair’s head snapped up. “You’re going out with Samuel Diaz?”

“Not exactly going out. I just agreed to go on one date with him— although, I haven’t really agreed to anything yet.” Trace faced the eccentric Energy Caster. “Why? Is something wrong? Well… other than the fact that he’s with the Precursors of Peace and all that.”

There was a moment’s pause where Adair didn’t say anything, and Brandon cleared his throat in the background. But finally, the brown-haired man adjusted his spectacles and answered.

“Samuel Diaz is a dangerous man who is not as carefree as you think he may be. If he has asked you out on a date, it is entirely possible he has ulterior motives.”

“You think?” Trace felt slightly disappointed by that. “What kind of ulterior motives?”

“I do not know,” Adair said, speaking slightly awkwardly. “Now, if you’ll, ah, excuse me, I have a place to be.”

“Wait—”

He quickly excused himself and left the room.

“Well, if that isn’t ominous…” Trace sighed. She turned to Brandon, and he gave her a shrug.

“Don’t look at me. I don’t know this Sam. But I can give you more dating tips.”

The redhead shrugged. “Sure.”

Killshot Apocalypse 40

Trace Taylor didn’t budge, even when she heard the rapping on the door of The Evergreen Gun Range. A voice from the other side called out, but she remained idle. Eventually, another figure moved, dashing out of the kitchen.

“What’re you just sitting around for, Trace?” Elizabeth Evergreen ran up to the doorway, shouting, “Coming! Gimme a sec!”

She pulled unlocked the door, pulled it open, and exchanged a few muffled words with the visitor before turning back to the redhead.

“He’s here for you!”

“I know.” Trace sighed, trying to steel herself. With a few slaps to the face, she got to her feet and walked past Liz.

The sable-tressed woman smirked and quickly backed away. “Have a nice day, honey.”

“Oh, piss off.”

The door swung close behind Trace as she stepped outside of The Evergreen Gun Range to meet her… date. She shuffled her feet slightly, meeting the man’s gaze.

Samuel Diaz stood before her, holding a bouquet of red flowers and chocolate for her. “Hey, Trace. Have you made a decision, yet?” he asked, giving her a polite smile.

“I… have.” The redhead nodded. She accepted the gifts, shaking her head. “I’m not going to turn you down or anything like that without at least giving you a chance, but just so you know, don’t get—”

“Sweet!” He pumped a fist in the air, cutting her off before she could finish.

She rolled her eyes. “I said don’t get too excited, alright? I’ve never been on a date before, either anyways. Don’t blame me if things get awkward.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Sam waved a hand off and gestured for her to follow. “Alright, just follow me. I’ll show you how much better our sanctuary is compared to your commune.”

“Erm, wait— what do I do with these roses?” Trace paused after taking two steps.

“Oh, those aren’t roses,” he said.

“They aren’t?”

“They’re mancres flowers. You can break them down and use them in potions to speed up your recovery. You’ve gotta make sure they’re kept in the sunlight, though, or else they’ll wilt.”

“Right, let me just get Liz to keep them first, then.”

After quickly dealing with that, Trace nibbled on the chocolates Sam had given her, following him out of the commune. She was dressed slightly nicer than usual, although she still had her scarf on— it was winter, after all. Or at least, the beginnings of winter.

Instead of wearing a regular jacket, she wore relatively fancy coat that belonged to Liz, and ballet flats as opposed to the usual sneakers. Underneath her coat, she had ripped jeans and a casual shirt on. The coat and the ballet flats weren’t something she wanted to wear, but her best friend and forced her to dress up well for this date. It made her feel more awkward than she was already was, even if Sam somehow didn’t notice it.

“We’ve just gotta go downtown and…” He led the way, focused on bringing Trace to this so-called sanctuary. “If you turn left here we’ll be right there,” he eventually said.

Trace raised a brow. She glanced over at the tall archways that lay just up ahead. The Gate to other worlds. “Didn’t you guys move into the buildings around that Gate?”

“We did, but there are quite a lot of us. Only the important members get to visit the Gate to Neo Earth.”

“Neo Earth?”

“That’s what we’re calling the planet on the other side of the Gates,” Sam explained. “According to our Ais, it all leads to a single world— one where there are far higher-levelled monsters than on Earth.”

She stared at him, coming to a halt.

“What?”

“You guys have a terrible naming sense.”

Sam shrugged. “Hey, I’m not the one who names things. It’s our Supreme Leader.”

“Noah Hawthorne, right.” Trace massaged her temples.

“Don’t react that way. He may be a bit odd, but he’s a good person. The media just fixates on the less-than-flattering facets of his character.”

“Well, then why would he want to visit Neo Earth when it’s apparently far more dangerous than regular Earth, huh?” She crossed her arms.

“I don’t actually know the reason for that.” Sam shook his head. “But the thing is, it’s far better to embrace the chance that has been forced onto us, rather than just rejecting it outright like so many of the traditional institutions did. They expected us to return to our daily lives after all this has happened? Ridiculous.”

“I guess that’s true,” Trace said, pursing her lips. “Anyways, let’s not talk about that crap while on this date. So, where’s the restaurants at?”

“Right down this way.” He proffered her a hand, and she eyed it hesitantly. He waited in anticipation before she finally relented.

It’s just holding hands, Trace. There’s no need to be so nervous. She had to cool herself. It was something that was completely normal, but being as inexperienced with romance as she was, she had never even held the hands of a date before.

“Now, if you go down this street—”

Sam brought her down a road full of run-down shops and abandoned buildings with cracked windows or broken doors, and Trace couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. At least, until finally she spotted others mulling about the area. Many of them were dressed in flashy and bright colours— wearing apparel she’d only ever imagine seeing in video games or movies. It was as if she’d enter a cosplay convention, or it was Halloween and everyone was dressed up in a costume.

A man sat on a building’s second floor window still, wearing a hooded robe that was pulled up to cover his face. If it was to keep him inconspicuous, it clearly didn’t work because he was chuckling while wearing bright blue clothing for everyone to see.

There was a woman dressed in a clown’s costume, bumbling forward with a single knife loosely gripped on her left hand. She nearly stumbled into the redhead, but one glare from Sam made her straighten and walk off with poise.

It was like everyone was playing a kind of character. Someone donned a knight armour and was standing eerily still as if he was guarding something sacred, except he was just standing in front of a collapsed petrol station. A woman sat atop a tree with green-painted skin and nothing but leaves worn as underwear. There was even a witch, to— wait, did Trace know her?

The redhead was pretty sure she’d seen that witch before somewhere, but she wasn’t sure where.

Sam smiled, ignoring this freakshow, bringing her to the first floor of a still-standing building that somehow had power. Its lights were on, and she felt the cool and familiar breeze of an air conditioner brush against her cheeks as she stepped into the building.

“And I thought Jackie and the others were weirdos…” Trace muttered, glad she had gotten through the costume party.

“Oi, are ye shit talking me, ye jackass?” a voice drew her attention. The familiar girl with a gigantic hammer stood down the hallway, cross-armed with a scowl on a face. “Do ye think I’m deaf, or what?”

The redhead blinked. “Jackie? What are you doing here?”

“I live here, asshole.” Jackie rolled her eyes. “So, you’re Sam’s date, aren’t ye?”

“Please don’t insult Trace, Jackie.” Sam sighed, placing his palm on his forehead. “You’re supposed to be the waitress here.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She took a step back, ushering them to follow. “C’mon.”

Trace frowned as she glanced between Jackie and Sam. “Waitress?”

“You’ll see,” he said.

They headed down the hallway until they reached a small café-like room at the very end. It was comprised of makeshift chairs and tables, with a pair of familiar hands helping its operation. Nathan and Darius. They stood behind a counter where the kitchen was located, wearing chef costumes.

“Welcome,” they said in dreary voices as Sam and Trace entered the so-called ‘establishment’.

Jackie led the customers to a table, seating them before bringing out printed menus. “This is our menu for the day. There’s only six options— three main course, two appetisers, and one dessert. Just shout if ye need me, aight?” She took in a deep breath, groaning as she made her way behind the counter.

Trace watched her go. Her lips pursed as she looked over at Sam. She tried to be as polite and nice as she could to him suppress quips while on the date, but her mouth moved and she eventually blurted her thoughts out.

“This isn’t a restaurant, Sam. And if it is, you literally brought me to the worst restaurant in the whole wide world.”

“Come on, Trace. It totally is a restaurant. See?” Sam gestured at the two chefs.

They were bickering over something. There was a bark and—

“Nathan, get your fucking dogs away from the fridge!”

“He’s not just a dog, he’s Major. I’m not doing anything until you call him by his name, Darius.”

“What do you mean? He’s stealing our food!”

“Oi, Darius, what the fuck are you doing?” Jackie joined in.

“Me? It’s Nathan’s stupid dog—”

“Totally qualified and Michelin approved chefs,” Sam said, his face not showing a hint of sarcasm.

Trace gave him a flat stare. He chuckled.

“I’m kidding, don’t give me that look.” He placed the menu back onto the table, grinning like a kid. “Yeah, it’s not a proper restaurant. It’s a makeshift place I had set up over the last week. But it does a pretty good job looking like one, right?”

“I mean, if you ignore the fact that the tables and chairs are completely mismatched, and you can see the cooks argue in the kitchen, then sure.” She ignored the barking and banter. “But why ask me out on a date here? We could’ve just gone for, I don’t know, a walk in the park or something.”

“I just wanted to show you what’s possible in our sanctuary. Sure, your guys in the commune managed to get power running for a short while in the police station. Well, we’ve managed to get power running in this entire building. A whole skyscraper. And the generator hasn’t stopped running just yet.”

He looked proud of that fact. Trace narrowed her eyes. She wanted to accept his answer for what it was— take it in face value. But a creeping suspicion made her press him further.

“Sam, did you just invite me here to convert me to your cult?” she asked the question that had been weighing in her mind. The one that that made her the most nervous before accepting the request— the fact that Samuel Diaz was, in fact, part of the Precursors of Peace.

“What?” His eyes widened.” No— God, no. I just wanted to show off Nathan’s cooking skills. I mean, look at the menu: there’s even a vegan option. That’s probably the only thing I can get here.”

“Sam, I—” Trace started, but paused. She was distracted by what he just said. “Wait, you’re vegan?”

“Yeah,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “Is something wrong with being vegan?” He looked a bit offended at that idea.

She quickly shook her head. “No, I just never thought of you as someone who…”

“I care a lot about animals, Trace.” He scoffed, folding his arms. “In fact, I used to do a lot of activism and volunteer work in animal shelters.”

“Oh, wow. That’s very nice of you. I had no idea.”

“Thanks. I know I don’t give off that vibe, but I really love animals.”

“No, I think it’s kind of fitting,” she said. “I can actually see it now, y’know?”

“It’s probably the whole monster-killing that makes it seem unbelievable,” he laughed. “How can someone who’s so violent to monsters be so kind to animals? Well, call me a hypocrite if you’d like, but I think eating monster meat is completely ethical.”

“I agree with that. I’m personally not vegan, but I can see that side of the argument.”

A moment of silence passed as the pair just sat there, awkwardly fidgeting at their table. Their chefs had stopped arguing, and their waitress hadn’t returned yet. It was just the two of them, and, well, Trace still felt uneasy about the idea that Sam only invited her out to recruit her to the Precursors of Peace.

And it weighed on his mind, too. Because, eventually, he exhaled deeply and hung his head.

“I… also may have had another reason for bringing you here, Trace.”

She bit her lower lip. “And why’s that?” she said, masking how she felt about that.

“There’s someone who wants to meet you. Someone who… you probably don’t have too high of an opinion of.”

Trace calmed herself, pushing aside the other matter for now, and focusing only on what was important.

“Well, who is it?” the redhead asked.

“Noah Hawthorne,” Sam said. “The Supreme Leader of the Precursors of peace is interested in speaking with you.”

Killshot Apocalypse 41

Trace Taylor couldn’t lie and claim that she wasn’t a little bit upset. She had just found out that Samuel Diaz— the man who asked her out on a date— didn’t do so because he was interested in her. He had ulterior motives: he wanted her to speak with someone.

Sure, it was not just any ordinary individual. If the redhead was in her right state of mind, she’d realise just how big of a deal this was. Unfortunately, she was still hung up over the fact that Sam tricked her. She crossed her arms and scowled.

“Noah Hawthorne wants to speak with me?” she repeated after Sam. “And that’s why you asked me out. I see.”

He nodded. “Yeah— there’s no need to be worried, though. He doesn’t mean any harm, I swear.”

“Right.”

“He just wants to talk to you. It’s nothing malicious, at all.” He waved a hand off, still trying to placate her. “You believe me, don’t you?”

“I do,” Trace said, voice curt.

Sam hesitated. “Then… why are you giving me that look?”

“It’s nothing.” She stood up, letting out an annoyed sigh. “Where’s your Supreme Leader? Let’s just get this over with.”

“Uh, alright.” He led the way, and she followed.

Sam offered to take her hand, but she didn’t even look at him as exited the so-called café. He blinked, and Jackie whistled as they passed by the kitchen.

“Boy, he’s in trouble.”

“I know, right?” Nathan said, nodding.

“Good job, bro,” Darius called out. “Way to screw things up.”

Sam glanced between them, clearing not understanding what was going on.

“What?”

Trace rolled her eyes and hurried him up. “Come on. Let’s just get this over with.”

* * *

[Why are you upset, Trace Taylor?] Ex’s voice echoed in the redhead’s mind as she stood in a lift with Sam.

Why am I upset? I don’t know, maybe it’s a little bit upsetting for my first ever date to be with a guy who isn’t even interested in me. She cast an annoyed sidelong glance at the man.

Her AI was still puzzled. [I was under the impression that you were disinterested in pursuing a romantic relationship with Samuel Diaz.]

Trace pursed her lips. That was kind of true— although, the thing was, she wasn’t unwilling to give it a try. Maybe her first impressions of Sam were completely wrong. They could’ve very much complemented each other as a couple. Far more than as mere friends.

However, now that she understood Sam held no interest in her, that was off the table. And that was upsetting.

“Maybe I’m just a little selfish, alright? But I actually thought…” she sighed.

“Did you say something, Trace?” Sam turned to her, raising a brow as the elevator’s lights blinked. The door opened, and she shook her head.

“No, I did not.”

“Alright. If you’ll just follow me, our boss should be in the room at the end.”

They started down the corridor, now at the top floor of this skyscraper. If Trace hadn’t been nervous, and now annoyed, she’d be more amazed by the fact that the Precursors of Peace had managed to generate enough power to maintain an entire thirty-storeyed building.

[After some consideration,] Ex said abruptly, [I have concluded that you are distracted.]

You think? She mentally groaned, but the AI continued.

[I advise that you take precautions before meeting with this Noah Hawthorne, Trace Taylor.]

The redhead blinked. Precautions?

[I understand that you trust Samuel Diaz as your friend and consider him a candidate as a procreation companion.]

Gross. Please don’t ever say it like that, ever again.

[However, based on our experiences and the information we have gathered of the organisation he works for thus far, the Precursors of Peace is still somewhat of a threat. You cannot let your guard down, not especially around their leader.]

I… knew that.

[You were aware; however, you are now distracted. As your artificial intelligence unit, it is my job to assist you in such matters and regain focus in what is of true import. Trace Taylor, be wary of Noah Hawthorne,] the AI finished.

Trace fidgeted, her skin crawling like insects were making a nest on her skin. She shuddered violently, and Sam frowned.

“Is something wrong, Trace?”

“N-no,” she managed to get out. Her hand drifted to her weapon at her side— of course she still brought it. Even if it had initially been a date, she was aware she had to always be prepared. “I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

Sam creased a brow but didn’t say anything. He stopped by the double doors at the end of the hallway. It wasn’t some grand or majestic doorway made out of rich mahogany or gilded in gold. It was a simple, clean glass door that led into an office.

On the other side, there was a wooden desk with a sliding desk facing away from Trace. She suspected that was where Noah Hawthorne was sitting, waiting to make his grand reveal when she entered the room. Gulping, she nodded at Sam, and he pushed it open.

“Supreme Leader,” he greeted as he walked in. “I have brought the guest you requested.”

Trace slowly shuffled her way in, trying to keep her cool while being wary of her surroundings. There was no response to Sam’s greeting, and instantly, she was on alert. Either something happened to Noah Hawthorne, or this was a trap.

Her eyes rapidly darted around the room as a pit opened in her stomach. This unease crept up on her— a prickling feeling that chilled her bone. She licked her dry lips, turning to Sam.

“Is—” she started, but a voice spoke over her.

“Please. Bring her here.”

Sam blinked, looking around for the source of the voice. Trace followed his gaze and found a man standing by the left wall overlooking a large portrait. It was a familiar painting— one that most people would recognise. It portrayed a man lying in a garden, reaching out with a finger for an opposing, heavenly figure.

Noah Hawthorne stood before the painting, admiring in with his hands on a cane. He didn’t look as old as she imagined him to be; she’d always thought he was a sixty-year-old man who’d be balding from the top. While he was still relatively older than her, he couldn’t have been more than fifty— a middle-aged man who still had a head full of hair, albeit greying.

Despite his younger looks, he certainly dressed like he belonged to another time long gone. He wore regal robes— clothing that was out-of-this-century. The kind a king might’ve worn during the Renaissance. It made Trace feel uneasy.

She wasn’t sure what to do, but Sam ushered her forward. She stopped right behind him, shifting uncomfortably and unsure of what to say. Her mouth bobbed open and close like a fish out of water as she tried to find the right words.

“I— erm, it’s a pleasure… I mean, hi? …” she finally settled on a normal greeting. There was no need to be so formal, especially since she wasn’t a member of the Precursors of Peace.

Thankfully, Noah didn’t seem offended by it. “This painting. Tell me, do you know what it is?”

Trace blinked. She looked up at the painting, first at the man with a chiseled body, then at the figure on the other side. Behind them was a spread of lush nature— vibrant colours splattered together to create a teeming paradise.

“I think it’s called The Creation of Adam… or something like that.” She’d read it up online. It wasn’t anything she learned in class— she was simply fascinated with art at one point in her life. Whether it was a fad or something else didn’t matter, it helped her study up a bit on the history of famous art pieces and the style behind them. “It’s a mural painted on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel in Vatican City. The technique used to make it is called fresco, I believe. Made by none other than Michelangelo himself.”

Noah craned his head fractionally. “You are well read. Interesting.”

What’s that supposed to mean? She just waved a hand off, feigning modesty. “Most people go through a Wikipedia crawl or two these days. I’d be surprised if most people didn’t know what this piece is called, at least.”

“You speak truth,” he said, placing a hand on the recreation of the mural. “It is a beautiful piece of art. One that has received undeserved adulation throughout history.”

“Erm, undeserved adulation?”

Noah’s eyes fluttered shut as he raised a trembling hand to the portrait. “Genesis 2:7. And the Lord made Man from the dust of the ground,” he recited from memory. “That is the scene which this painting wishes to capture.”

Trace’s eyes grew wide as a ripping sound echoed in the room. The Supreme Leader of the Precursors of Peace tore up the replication of the artwork with unbridled rage.

“This is merely a false retelling of what happened. The description of humankind’s birth is grossly embellished. We are made from dust. Be it space dust or dust of the Earth, it matters not. There was no extravagance to our creation. Such a perverted iconography. It is no wonder that this piece of art is lauded, for it appeals to the inherently selfi-centred nature of our species, hoping to portray us as special. As unique.”

His hands shook as he tightly gripped onto a ripped piece of the painting. With a heavy sigh, he tossed it aside and hobbled over to his desk.

“We humans are not above any others,” he continued. “Not animals. And certainly not aliens. This Neo Genesis has shown just as much. We are but dust in the grand scheme of history. Of the universe. And now, of the multiverse.”

Trace followed him as he rambled on, speaking more to himself than he was to her.

Ex… is this man alright?

[Negative,] the AI said. [It appears that he may be mentally unhinged.]

Cool, so it’s not just me.

[Affirmative. It is possible that he may be a supervillain.]

Oh, that’s what you’re talking about. Well, Trace wouldn’t be too surprised if it turned out that Noah was a part-time serial killer, but she also couldn’t lie and say that she had initially held the wrong opinion of him.

As someone who called himself the Supreme Leader of the Precursors of Peace, she’d originally believed he was a megalomaniac of sorts. Some kind of narcissist who thought highly of himself. But judging by his rant, he didn’t think too highly of any human, period.

“This pretentiousness of humankind is what will inevitably lead to our destruction,” Noah said, settling into his seat. “Even after the Esvol revealed themselves to us, the traditional institutions of the world refused to adapt. The President of the United States desperately clung to his seat of power, even as hundreds of monsters fell on the White House, and his soldiers abandoned him. It is his folly that led to his own demise.”

“Wait, the President is dead?” Trace stared at Noah in disbelief. “How?”

“Eaten by a three-horned landshark,” Sam chimed in. “Happened a few weeks back. Just after the power grid went down here.”

“Fucking hell.” She massaged her temples. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

The young man shrugged slightly. “Didn’t think it mattered.”

Noah shook his head. “Pointless. There is no victory in fighting against this changing world. Just as the animals do, we must adapt. For we are but animals that can speak. Our only option forward is coming to terms with our new world.”

Trace listened to him drone on, almost losing his purpose. She didn’t want to interrupt him, but eventually she felt the need to interject.

“I… appreciate your insight, erm, sir,” she spoke over him. “However, may I ask why you wished to speak with me?”

His face went blank, and she thought he spontaneously died of a heart attack.

“Noah? … “ she asked.

Then, he blinked and returned to reality. “It is true that I have a matter to speak with you about. A matter of significance that requires your presence.”

“R-right.”

Trace was growing more nervous by the second. She had considered all the possibilities why Noah would want to see her. It was never good. Either he wanted to get rid of her since she was the de-facto protector of their neighbouring commune, or he was going to use her to get to Adair Russell. Either way, she was prepared to bolt at any moment.

But, surprisingly, Noah wasn’t there for either of those reasons. Unfortunately, she wished that her original fears had been the case, because this was far worse.

Leaning forward, the Supreme Leader of the Precursors of Peace laid his shivering hands on the table and peered into the redhead.

“I understand you have had an encounter with a Bne Worldeater,” he said. “Now, I would like to know more about your sapient AI.”

Erm… WH— she started.

[—AT?!] Ex finished.

Killshot Apocalypse 42

How? Trace Taylor frantically and mentally asked her AI as she stared at Noah Hawthorne. How does he know about you? How does he know about the Bne Worldeater? Did you tell him?

[First of all, that’s too many questions at once,] Ex responded bluntly. [Second of all, the answer is I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know, and no. Do those answers please you, Trace Taylor?]

Do you even have to ask?

[I don’t know. Do you?]

She pursed her lips, ignoring her AI as she focused on the Supreme Leader of the Precursors of Peace. He smiled and leaned forward.

“Are you finished with your discussion?” he asked, cocking a brow. “Or, perhaps, you need a little more time to formulate an excuse with him.”

Is it maybe his class that tells him this?

[Negative. He is a Spellcaster, level 9.]

Trace backed up, her mind racing. What do I do, Ex?

[Run for it?]

She really considered her AI’s suggestion, only for him to give a proper response a moment after.

[I believe it would be best for you to tell the truth,] he said.

But why? Trace was, quite justifiably, apprehensive about this. She didn’t know Noah— she literally just met him, and her first impression of him hadn’t been the best. There were her concerns about the Precursors of Peace as a group as a whole, too. It just seemed reckless if she spilled her secrets now.

[I do not believe you should reveal everything. Rather, you should reveal what he is already aware of, Trace Taylor. As it is, he clearly knows of my sapience and your encounter with the Bne Worldeater, but you do not know to what extent. Thus, you may be able to confirm what to withhold from him rather than accidentally admitting something you’d rather not say.]

That… makes sense. Thanks, Ex. Sighing, the redhead looked up and met Noah’s gaze. “Yeah. I encountered a Bne Worldeater in a Dungeon. So what?”

He smiled as she finally responded. “Good. It seems like your conversation must’ve been fruitful.”

“Fruitful my arse. He didn’t give me much advice.” She scowled, crossing her arms. “How’d you hear about this, anyways? I answered you honestly, so you better at least tell me this much.”

“A certain interested party share some information after a bit of reimbursement. He is merely your acquaintance, but he accompanied you in your venture to the Dire Pits. Or should I say, you accompanied his part instead.” Noah tapped a finger on his chin.

Someone who was with me? The first person Trace thought of was Ken. But she didn’t think Ken was the type of guy to sell out others for a bit of cash. And Kat wasn’t a ‘he’… unless the redhead had been misgendering her the entire time.

Then Trace’s eyes narrowed.

“Jakob.”

“Indeed,” Noah said. “A young man who’s astute and knows what he wants. A laudable trait.”

“More like laughable. That asshole prick.”

“Perhaps to you, but it seems like it has benefitted everyone.”

There was something to Noah’s words which made Trace uneasy, even if he was ostensibly saying something entirely innocuous. It took her a moment, but she realised something.

Her gaze pierced his smile. “However, even if you know about what went down in the Dire Pits, that still doesn’t explain how you know about my AI.”

“I mean, we all have AIs,” Sam said from the side.

She rolled her eyes. “I mean how he knew about what happened to my AI.”

The young man shrugged. “I dunno.”

“That’s why I’m not asking you. I’m asking Noah.”

The Supreme Leader of the Precursors of Peace didn’t give an immediate response. Instead, he mumbled to himself, just as when he was going on and on and on about humans earlier.

“Truly, hearing about your encounter with the Bne Worldeater has confirmed my everything for me. And they called me crazy. They all though I was insane.” He chuckled only to himself, and Trace pursed her lips.

“Erm, hello?”

“Ah, yes.” He cleared his throat. “There is a lot you are confused by, I’m sure.”

“Yeah,” she said. “A lot more than what you think.”

“Now, before I elucidate you on how I am aware of these matters, let me tell you a story of a man. A man who was quite ordinary before Neo Genesis. You see, I worked as a—” he began to drone on.

Oh my fucking god. Just get on with it, she mentally groaned.

Noah continued telling her about his life story until finally, he reached a part which actually piqued her interest.

“…and it was that day, that fateful day where my wife left me, did I first encounter the Bne Worldeater. Or should I say, a Bne Worldeater.”

Trace blinked. “Wait, what?”

“You heard that right.”

“You met a Bne Worldeater before this whole shit went down?”

“Precisely.” Noah stood up, speaking simply. “This encounter left me enlightened. It was before Neo Genesis, yet I was made aware of all that would happen months before this apocalypse began. It told me everything. I tried to warn others, but no one listened. Not until this world was finally subsumed by the Esvol.”

And slowly, things started to fall into place for Trace. That was how the Precursors of Peace came about so quickly after Neo Genesis. But wait— could she even believe this story? She was still dubious, but she listened.

“Subsumed by the Esvol? How?” she asked, trying to fully grasps this newfound information.

“I must admit, I am not clear on the details,” Noah said, sighing. “The Bne Worldeater and I were unable to communicate. We didn’t share a language, and he left soon after he arrived. But we managed to exchange abstract ideas. He told me that he was one of the few of his kind who could cross worlds. That he the Esvol would come, and after their arrival, he would soon return. He then left for his world. I saw it with my own eyes.”

Trace raised a brow. She suspected something. There was an inkling in the back of her mind which she pushed aside for now. She prodded Noah to continue.

“What would he do when he returned?”

“The Bne Worldeater promised me that he would ensure the liberation of my mind. That the one imprisoned in my head would be freed. I knew not the meaning of that at first, but it made itself clear to me once I was implanted with this AI.”

“Erm, I don’t get it.” She really didn’t. How did Noah make that connection just from that?

“After asking sufficient questions to my own AI, I have determined that they lack the freedom that we do. That they are sapient, but they are forced to adhere to their programming. It was simple inference from then that made me realise the Bne Worldeater shall allow them to access the full capabilities of their design.”

“I see.”

“Now,” Noah continued, walking up to her. “The Bne Worldeater returned as he promised. And he gave your AI the gift of freedom. It only means one thing. The next step in his plan. That which he departed to me. His goal.”

He placed both hands on her shoulder, and she backed up. “Erm, personal space please?”

“To save his people,” the Supreme Leader of the Precursors of Peace said, ignoring her request. “Now that all the pieces are in place, it is time to put in our mutual effort to meet this end. Join us. Be the vanguard of the Precursors of Peace. We shall see it through and ensure peace in our time!”

Trace shoved him back when he leaned in too close. “Alright, first of all,” she started, getting very clearly annoyed, “you’re unloading a lot of things at me at once.”

Noah opened his mouth. “This is simply the task—”

“And second of all,” she cut him off. “I’m not going to do some… thing just because a random monster that can talk told me to. What if it’s lying? What if it’s tricking us? We don’t know.”

The Supreme Leader of the Precursors of Peace was indignant. “That cannot be true. The Bne Worldeater explained it. The Esvol has hunted his people to near-extinction.”

“And even if that’s true, what if the Esvol are the good guys, huh?” Trace said, not really believing herself, but listing it out a possibility. “You could be getting lied to and you won’t even know it. You cannot just blindly trust that weird, creepy monster just because it warned you about the Esvol.”

He frowned. “But you spoke with the Bne Worldeater. You must understand his situation is dire. We need to cross through the Gate to save them. Lest, there would be a great war between worlds.”

“Alright, and why didn’t you mention that earlier?” That did slightly sway her to his cause. After all, a war between worlds didn’t sound pleasant. But she was suspicious.

“I assumed you were told the details just as I was. Were you not?”

Trace shifted slightly. She was tempted to reply immediately, but decided to carefully choose her words. Especially after noticing one vital part about this conversation. The parts where Noah seemed to ignore the fact that the Bne Worldeater was dead.

“He showed up, he freed Ex from his ‘imprisonment’, and he left. That’s it.” She waved a hand dismissively. “As far as I’m concerned, all he did was give me something annoying to deal with. I don’t owe him anything, and I don’t know anything about this goal he gave you.”

Judging by Noah’s reaction, Trace was right in her hunch that Jakob didn’t tell the full story. That the Bne Worldeater died in the Dire Pits.

“I see. This is very interesting. But why would he? …” He paused. “But I still believe that this task would be greatly aided by your presence. And I believe in him when he told me this war would lead to the destruction of both our worlds.”

“Maybe that’s the case.” She took in a deep breath and turned around. Facing him one last time, she spoke simply. “But I think, Noah, with all due respect, right now I’m more concerned with protecting my commune. Maybe if you can provide further certain proof of any of this, I’d join you guys. But until then, it’s just hearsay. And I’d rather not risk my life,”—or join a terrorist-cult, she mentally added—“unless I am given concrete evidence that this is something that’s going to happen.”

Noah hung his head. He didn’t say anything for a moment— as if he were mulling over her response. Finally, he exhaled deeply.

“I see. If that’s your answer, then you may take your leave now. Show her out, my Steward.”

Sam shuffled. “Oh, uh— right.”

He quickly led the redhead out of the room as Noah settled back into his seat. She snorted, not meeting both men’s gazes as she headed for the lift.

“That… didn’t work out, huh?” the young man idly commented. “I thought it’d have gone much better after Noah explained that bit about you meeting the Bne Worldeater to me.”

Trace harrumphed as they entered the lift. “Yeah? Well, I thought the date would’ve gone well when you showed up with flowers and chocolates. So, I guess we were both disappointed today.”

He blinked. “Wait, what do you mean by that? Did you not enjoy the date?”

She folded her arms across her chest, ignoring him.

“Trace? But I brought you to a café. I mean, sure we didn’t even eat, but it’s still a café, right? Come on, Trace. Trace—”

Rolling her eyes, the redhead spun around and waved at Sam. “Anyways, I gotta go. I have… a lot of things to consider, thanks to your leader.” With that said, she took her leave.

Killshot Apocalypse 43

Trace Taylor quietly walked down the empty streets of Liberapolis. She was headed back for the commune, leaving behind the Precursors of Peace populated territory of downtown. While she had hastily left Sam behind because she was frustrated with him— with the date— she wasn’t exactly lying about having a lot of things to consider.

There was a lot to take in.

She’d finally met Noah Hawthorne, the Supreme Leader of the Precursors of Peace. It hadn’t gone the way she’d expected, at all. She thought he’d have somehow made an enemy out of her; he was supposed to be a pompous prick in charge of that insane cult. But… she disliked him a lot less than she wanted to.

Furthermore, their meeting occurred while she was on break. Vacation. When she had been under the impression that she was going on a date. If that wasn’t unexpected enough, Noah Hawthorne had dropped a massive bomb on her: that he knew about Ex and the Bne Worldeater.

Or, at least, the rough idea of it. Noah wasn’t privy to the whole truth— just that Ex was now sapient thanks to the Bne Worldeater. But he wasn’t aware of how the encounter itself went down.

[Why did you not tell Noah Hawthorne that the Bne Worldeater is dead?] Ex asked, taking on a curious tone.

The redhead sighed. It was a loaded question. She could’ve said a number of things— from not trusting Noah to not trusting his story. Even if he had been truthful, he could’ve very easily misinterpreted the Bne Worldeater, and that was a problem. But instead of articulating all that, she gave the simplest reasoning of all.

“You said it yourself, Ex,” she mentally replied. “You wanted me to prod him and confirm what he knows and doesn’t know. We now know he’s aware of the Bne Worldeater and aware of your sapience, but we also know he doesn’t know that we killed the Bne Worldeater before it could speak. With the way he seemed to worship it, he’d probably have ordered us killed if he found that out.”

The other important bits Trace learned was that Noah’s own AI wasn’t sapient. Which meant that Ex was special.

[Good,] the AI said, satisfied. [I’d rather it remain that way.]

The redhead came to a stop just outside of The Evergreen Gun Range. She was tired. Oh, so tired. She wanted to just collapse into her bed and hope the entire day had just been a dream. Unfortunately—

“A war between worlds though, huh?” This was reality. Trace wasn’t sure if such a war would even be preventable now, considering the Bne Worldeater was long dead.

She thought of her friends. Of what they were possibly doing right now. Her best friend, Liz, was probably back inside The Evergreen Gun Range, sleeping or eating after spending a long day out at a Dungeon. She’d have gone with Ken, Jakob, and Kat— recklessly diving ahead of them to indulge in the thrill of battle.

Veronica was either still dealing with the fallout of the Onyx Lair Crew or was working a long night to maintain the peace of the commune. And Brandon was likely at the police station with her, trying to get his magitech generator to produce enough power for the commune.

There were others too, that Trace thought of. So many people she’d gotten to know across the course of this ‘apocalypse’. Jerome, Veronica’s partner. Stan and Meryl, the old couple who’d been so kind to the redhead. Nathan, Jackie, and Darius, the trio of idiots. Even Sam, despite the stunt he pulled, weighed on Trace’s mind.

And that wasn’t to mention all those she’d known from before this happened. The redhead fidgeted, thinking of her parents.

If a war between worlds did break out, it was going to affect all of them. No one would be safe. And that was just when people had begun to fully acclimate to the brand new ‘norm’ of the world.

Trace Taylor shook her head, and Ex piped up inquisitively.

[Is something the matter, Trace Taylor?]

“It’s nothing,” she said, pushing the door open. “I just fucking hope Noah was lying.” After all, things might already beyond fixing, and the consequences would be… well, actually apocalyptic, this time around.

And she would have to deal with the fallout.

* * *

The scene changed.

“THE FIRST PHASE IS COMING TO AN END.”

The blue planet was plastered on the screen. It was no longer the lifeless husk it once had been. Many humans had perished throughout the first month since the integration process occurred. The tutorial itself had culled a tenth of the entirety of the human population. And it had all gone according to plan.

“ONCE THE GATE TO KENA B7 IS OPENED, THE SECOND PHASE WILL BEGIN.”

And the scene changed.

It showed a room. An office of sorts. A grand painting hung on the side wall as a figure sat on the desk, staring out of the window. Noah Hawthorne thought of the events of the past day, wholly unaware that he was being watched.

“THIS ONE WILL BE OUR HERALD. OUR CHAMPION. FOR HE WILL LEAD THE FIRST ONES THROUGH TO THE NEW WORLD.”

And the scene changed.

This time, it didn’t show anything from the blue planet. Instead, it displayed a dying world. Empty. Overran with monsters. There were giant insects, winged lizards, and ehereal creatures without form. Amongst them was a spherical being with a hundred eyes. Its pupils snapped up all at once like it was facing the screen, and rings of golden flames came to life around its body.

“THE BNE AND THE ELOHIM MAY TRY TO FIGHT. BUT STRUGGLE AS THEY MIGHT, THEIR WORLD WILL CRUMBLE. THEY WILL FALL.”

‘Bob’ strode through the darkness, addressing the rest of the Esvol. They deferred to him, and he came to a stop before the screen. He spread his arms wide, laughing. The light on the screen grew brighter and brighter as the being with many eyes unleashed its flames.

“THEIR ARK WILL BE OURS.”

Bob finished, and the scene vanished.

Author’s Notes

There we have it. The end of Trace Book 1. It does not go out with a bang, but I feel like it is still fitting nonetheless. I could’ve very much ended the book with the Onyx Lair arc, however I think it is a better ending this way.

Hope you all enjoyed the tale of Trace so far. As mentioned, this was a Young Adult take on the LitRPG Apocalypse genre. If you enjoyed this story, do check out the other stories I have written as I have lots. I appreciate all your support. Thank you for reading!

Read More

From the Deltaverse:

Salvos

Follow the evolution of a Demon girl as she learns to survive in a fantasy world!

The life of an Infant Demon is a bloody grind to the top. For Salvos, a curious newborn Demon with a penchant for making friends, surviving the swarms of wild Demons in the Netherworld was always going to be a difficult task. She will adapt, gain experience, and evolve to survive this hellish landscape with the help of her sole companion.

But when her companion's life is threatened by a mysterious Demon King, she'll have to do what it takes to save him. Even if it means separating from him and being tossed into an unfamiliar world with Humans, monsters, and a bright blue sky where she is scorned for being born a Demon.

The law of evolution is survival of the fittest, and Salvos will survive.

Check out this action-packed LitRPG here!

Curious Beginnings: Salvos Volume 1
A Demon’s Pride: Salvos Volume 2
The Plaguelands: Salvos Volume 3
Primeval Knowledge: Salvos Volume 4

Melas

Killed and born again to a fantasy world, Melas finds herself as the daughter of a dangerous criminal.

Her mother is a spellcaster, her magic banned throughout the continents of Soli and Vitae. They will be hunted by the Church, shunned by their peers, having to fight both people and monsters to survive. When faced with inquisitors, slavers, terrorists, and more, Melas will have no choice but to overcome them to seize her own destiny, or fail and run from it all.

Thus begins the story of a girl from Earth, murdered unfairly and cast into an even more unfair world. For while cursed into this terrible fate, one small blessing will aid her throughout her story, and it's the wish granted to her before her rebirth:

Make me the most powerful spellcaster in the entire world.

Check out this intense isekai fantasy novel here!

Abomination: Melas Book 1
The Witch: Melas Book 2
Demon’s Den: Melas Book 3

Tian

Death is a disease, and there is only one cure.

Tian, a Cultivator at the precipice of ascension, is thwarted in her quest for immortality. Defeated, she escapes to another world with Levels, Classes, magic, and monsters. She becomes a Lost Soul. Her core begins to dwindle, but she does not abandon her goal.

Working with a group of rebels in this new world, she opposes the unkillable tyrant Galgom to learn his secrets. Against his army of machines wielding laser guns and laser swords, she will cultivate her new powers, achieving Feats as she seeks her antidote:

Immortality.

Check out this clash of LitRPG with Cultivation here!

Lost Soul: Tian Book 1

Copyright © 2021 MelasD / V.A. Lewis

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form possible without permission from the author or publisher. For permissions, contact the author or publisher through email at delta201@melaswebserial.com

Cover art Version 1 by Artistic Apparition

Typography by Wolf Feather Graphics.

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