System Finale: An Apocalyptic Space Opera LitRPG (The System Apocalypse Book 12) Read online

Something.

  I’m a little hazy about what their plans are. Both by necessity and planning. All I know is that they’re bouncing around the planet killing monsters, occasionally taking part in Arena fights, and once, they even went so far as to down a dragon that got too big for its scales.

  Still, knowing they’re alive and running around gives me hope. The day they get caught, the day her ticket goes dark…

  That’s the day when all hope will be lost.

  On that day, I might even give them what they want, if it’d get me closer to what I really want.

  An answer.

  Chapter 3

  Days pass, or the subjective displaced realm equivalent of days, before they come for me. I complete hundreds of tickets, not needing to sleep, but the pile keeps growing. The war going on out there, the one I get only sideways information on as I deal with fluctuating Mana levels and massive experience dump events, is going badly.

  For who, you might say? Everyone, as far as I can tell. Administrators are going to the front lines, their tricky and unknown abilities causing death and destruction to Master and Heroic Classes. When your Skills suddenly shut down, when you aren’t able to flee when you need to, it’s never a good thing. Battles between Heroic Classes in particular are seat-of-the-pants, death-defying events. Or one-sided stomps. Not much space in between.

  Tilt the battlefield one way and you suddenly see a lot more deaths. That, of course, has resulted in the “real” Council—or the rebels, depending on which side you ask—deploying countermeasures. Specifically, they’ve started hunting down Administrators.

  It’s not as though the Administrators and their anomalous Classes, slower Leveling speed, and just overall weirdness haven’t been noticed. When a bunch of somebodies all back one another up and start showing up at fights, all of whom are in the late Master or Heroic Classes, some of whom have no reason to be in the battlefields, it twigs the professionally paranoid that something is up. Individuals who might have been a curious anomaly on a statistical model are now a potential threat. With some of the more vicious groups—the Truinnar and Movana in particular—just the suspicion of being an Administrator is a good way to have their assassins come after you.

  More chaos. More destruction. More Mana not being churned.

  And more System Administrators falling, which means there’s even more work to handle. The System isn’t teetering on the brink of failure since there are enough safeguards in place—including the numerous Dungeon Worlds—but the Forbidden Zone is encroaching faster.

  Of course, faster is relative. Instead of taking fifty years to overtake the next habitable planet, it’s only thirty-four years. It’s more dangerous for planets in the Restricted Zone, the ones already fighting a losing battle to keep from being consumed. More Mana flooding through means more monsters on already beleaguered planets, many of which are low on combat personnel due to the wars.

  If the wars last too long, there will be a massive loss of life and planets. System integration will speed up for many planets that aren’t already part of us, though in most cases, it’s just adding barren planets to the system. But there are a few populated planets that, within the next century, might find themselves introduced to the System in a less than stellar way.

  I see all this from charts and tickets and aid requests, piece it all together along with the historical knowledge gifted to me. I feel a little bit of guilt, knowing I set this off, but while I’m arrogant, I’m not certain I’m arrogant enough to believe that this war is just because of me.

  Days on end of clearing tickets, understanding what is happening, until finally, someone shows up. I’m a little surprised by who it is, considering I haven’t seen her since my initial capture. The blue-skinned, sleek, and copper-plated-faced mermaid Administrator is a known sight, if one I detest. She’s not alone either, a pair of guards beside her. Normally, not enough to stop me from trying my hand at bashing her head in, but being out of Skill abilities, thanks to the pair of nice little bracers and the collar they’ve locked onto me, I don’t really stand much of a chance.

  “Senior System Administrator Sephra. What do I owe the displeasure of seeing you?” I say, letting all the venom I can muster drip with each word.

  “Why, your stubbornness of course.” Sephra saunters over and sits down on empty air. Nannites form out of the floor at eye-blinding speed, creating the chair she needs, which she then lounges back into. Positioning herself only a few steps into the room and right in front of the door shows me how little she wants to be here.

  It also alerts me to the change in the room. I eye the corners and quickly note the almost invisible force screen that has sprung up between us. She really isn’t taking any chances with me.

  Smart, considering if I get a chance, I’ll end her. Or at least try. I have a bone or two to pick with her after all. Something, something, killing my friends, something, something torture. You know, the usual.

  “Well, that’s not new.” I yawn theatrically.

  “Am I boring you?” Sephra says, her voice caustically sweet. “Should I ask Yewa to come see you again? Perhaps you’d like his company more.”

  “He’s certainly more interesting than you.”

  There’s a flicker of irritation on her face before she smooths it out. I count that as a score, though a part of me wonders how much of it is real. You don’t grow to our Levels without some level of politicking. And even if most of what I do is aided by the Subterfuge Perk I picked up all too long ago—which has been, I’ll admit, pulling its weight on the backend of all my interactions—I still have learned a few things myself. Part of which includes never taking anything for granted.

  She lapses into silence, studying me. I consider playing the silent glaring game with her, but after a moment, I decide I’m too mature for that. Instead, I pull up a couple of tickets and work on them while I wait.

  It takes only a few minutes for her to break, what with me studiously ignoring her while I finish the latest ticket.

  “You know, certain factions are considering keeping you here, alive and quiet. Working for us, fixing the problems you have caused us. They say that a good worker like you could free more important personages,” Sephra says.

  “Not hard to do a better job than you people.” I snort. “You’d think none of you ever took a Coding 101 course.” I rub the back of my neck while I add, “I’ll admit, you’re like most coders I knew. None of you ever put notes in your code. Bloody amateurs, one and all.”

  This time, I don’t get the reaction I expect. Instead, a long-suffering look crosses her face. “I tell them all the time. How are we supposed to know what you changed if you don’t note it down… but they’re all, ‘The System knows!’ Like I want to browse through System changelogs when you could just take another five minutes and…” She splutters to a stop, realizing what and who she’s speaking to.

  I finish her sentence for her. “Put in some proper comments. It’s not hard, but then again, idiots are more likely to just revert to an old version and restart than try to work out what the previous idiot did, and then they just introduce a new problem.”

  There’s a long-suffering sigh from Sephra, and for a moment, we have a moment of shared exasperation. It only lasts a moment before she shakes her head.

  “It’s because you might actually be useful in the long run that we’re making this offer,” Sephra says, her voice growing colder. “We—”

  “I’ve heard it before.”

  “Then listen again,” she says frostily.

  I yawn, but when the pair of guards shift and tap the big truncheons by their side, I take the smarter course and stay silent. See? I can learn.

  “Join us. All those questions you have about the System? We can answer them.”

  “Bullshit.” I can’t help but say that, since this is the first time I’ve heard this particular pitch. Wait… actually, no. Third time. I just discounted the other two times since they were mentioned in the middle of a get-to-kno
w-your-organs session.

  “I do not understand your human fascination with excrement,” Sephra says. “Do you eat it?”

  “What? No!”

  “I’m sure I’ve seen something about humans—”

  “FETISH!” I place a hand over my eyes, groaning. Seriously, what is wrong with the English and culture pack downloads going out these days?

  “Well, okay.” There’s doubt in her voice, and when she sees my rather suspicious glare, she shrugs. “It’s not exactly a unique dietary requirement.”

  “I did not need to know that.”

  Another shrug. “To the point—your questions about the System? They can be answered.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  That’s when she drops the bombshell. A simple notification box that she shares to me and changes my world.

  System Quest Completion Rate: 99.99%

  “You’re nearly there,” I say in disbelief.

  “I am there.”

  “I’m sure math isn’t your thing, but normally completion is one hundred percent,” I say. “You know, all of it.”

  “No one gets a hundred percent,” Sephra says. “But trust me, the answers we get? They’re more than enough.”

  I snort, but I have to admit, the difference between full completion and what she has is so thin, if the Quest was a cake, you couldn’t feed a mouse the crumb of difference. It should be enough for most reasonable people.

  “It’s not complete.”

  “And you’re going to stand on that principle alone? Be tortured and punished because of less than a fraction of a percent?”

  I shrug.

  Sephra smiles then, one that is almost painfully gleeful. “I told them. Anyone stupid enough to take us on would never bend, not even a bit. And here you are, doing everything I said you’d do. All those old Admins, thinking they know better. I told them.”

  “That’s nice. I’ll get you a trophy. About five feet long, with a point, and I’ll make sure to deliver it to you.”

  The pair of bodyguards stir, but she waves them down. “Don’t worry, the mad dog can bark, but he cannot do anything. We defanged him.” I growl at her, and she laughs. “See?”

  I draw a deep breath, forcing down my irritation. My fist unclenches slowly as I breathe out and I realize there’s something I do want from them, something I might be able to get. An answer, after all the lies I’ve been told. It might be more lies, but I need to ask it anyway.

  “Why do you want me on your side so much anyway?” I say.

  “You know why.”

  “The Root Administrator.”

  A nod, blue gills opening and closing in the air. She pauses, running a hand across her neck, and I feel Mana flow, running along her hands and across it. A second later, she lowers her hand, still smiling at me as though what she has done is of no consequence.

  “They’re your Root Administrator. Surely you communicate with him all the time,” I say, fishing. My guess is they don’t actually. That’s why they’re desperate to hear from him, to track him down. Maybe even deal with him and take away his access, so one of their own can be the Root.

  “Oh, we do.” I blink, and she smiles at my surprise. “We communicate with them all the time. It’s us who they don’t communicate with. They don’t talk to most Administrators. In fact, they don’t talk to anyone unless they need to. Except for you.”

  “Except for me,” I repeat. “And that’s what you want, me to lure them out. To play bait.”

  “Yes.”

  Something rings false in her answer. Maybe it’s the angle of her body, the way she blinks, the twitch in her gills. The skill set for alien body language I downloaded, the years I spent working with aliens and creatures that aren’t human, the Intelligence increases, and the Subterfuge Perk, it all combines to tell me there’s something more than her answer. Something she won’t tell me.

  “What makes you think he—they—will come out? They’re already talking to me, as you said.”

  A shrug, again, one that rings of a partial truth. “Some things, they can’t be told. Only shown.”

  Intuition twigs. “The System Quest. Whatever is at the end of it, it has to be shown.”

  “You’re a smart one, aren’t you?” Sephra nods.

  I let out a thready breath. There is an end, and it’s a place as much as a piece of knowledge. Almost as soon as she’s finished speaking and confirming it, I get a notification.

  System Quest Update: +1.4%

  I try to hide, but as good as I am at reading her, she is at reading me. Or perhaps she knew all along what the result of her confirming this information would do.

  “You got the update, didn’t you?”

  I reluctantly nod.

  “Then you know I’m telling you the truth. Join with us, and we’ll bring you where you need to go to meet him. We get what we want, you get what you want. Simple.”

  “And no more torture,” I add, because it is somewhat top of my mind.

  “And no more torturing you to break you, yes.”

  I pause, considering her offer. Truly considering it. Not because I’ll take it, but because of what she’s revealed. If it’s a place, then suddenly the fact that I have a location—a System Administrator Center—that I’m to report to becomes much more important. The question is, will it be a case of the run for Irvina again? Will they know where we’re going if I escape?

  Because we’ve done that dance once before, and the next time, I doubt they’ll bother trying to capture us. Death by fire from above is the most likely response. Never mind the fact that they might just choose to teleport a Legendary over. And powerful as we are, I have serious doubts that we could deal with a Legendary, not one backed up by System Administrators.

  I have to think about this, think about what kind of information I can get. Which means potentially entertaining them. “What about my friends?”

  “The Samurai and Dragon Lord?” Sephra says, and I nod. “If you call them off—and I know you can—we can let them live. We won’t even demand they pledge allegiance.”

  “You know Mikito will go where I will.”

  “Funny thing, linked Classes.” She smirks.

  I grunt, noting how she doesn’t mention Bolo. Or… “Harry?”

  “The Reporter? He’s safe. The Pirate’s earlier deal safeguarded him.”

  I snort, and her eyes narrow. “You mentioned he’d be watching me, recording my breaking. Yet I’ve yet to see a sign of him in all this time. So don’t mind me if I doubt your word.”

  Sephra’s eyes narrow, the outer eyelid blinking. They’re clear, meant to protect her eyes when she’s deep underwater, I assume, but it’s still creepy even if I know what it’s meant for. “That is a fair point. But if you wish to see him, to speak with him, we’ll need something.”

  “What?”

  She shrugs, playing coy now. I can’t help but grunt a little in annoyance, and even more so when she doesn’t break, even minutes later. When I try to bring up the ticketing board, she shuts me down, blocking my access for the moment. I let out a little huff and she tuts at me. Tuts!

  “Fine. A trade then. A conversation with him and I’ll give you a piece of information about the Root Administrator.”

  “Now, and we decide if it’s good enough.”

  “Now, but you send him in, no matter what,” I counter.

  “So long as you provide something good and actionable,” Sephra says.

  “Good at least.” When she frowns, I open my hands. “I don’t have any idea what you consider actionable since I don’t know what you guys know. But it’ll be good information.”

  Sephra frowns, then nods. A moment later, something I haven’t seen in a while pops up.

  Contract Notification: A Promise

  Parties: John Lee and Sephra veCokca

  Details: The above parties hereby agree…

  I flick through the contract, a simple outlining of what we discussed. The penalties for violation are
surprisingly a single Credit. When I reach that part, she smirks at me, but I get it.

  The Contract is being used to ensure compliance via the System, with an impartial third party of sorts judging everything. I’m not entirely sure how useful or reliable the System is at judging something like this, but it’s probably better than nothing. For both of us.

  I do spend some time browsing the Contract using my System Edit Skill, checking the code for any hidden traps. Nothing jumps out on a quick scan. While I’m doing so, there’s a feeling of being watched, which isn’t hard to guess is Sephra ensuring I’m not changing anything.

  Not that I thought about it for more than a few seconds.

  Once I’m satisfied there aren’t any hidden traps, I agree to the Contract. I feel it settle over myself and my System connection, my Status Screen. It’s a wide, sprawling series of code, but I see where it hooks in, where it spreads its tendrils over my Status information. Where it burrows in deep, reading data that…

  “Thousand hells. You’re one tricky fish, aren’t you?”

  She grins wide, and I lean backward, knowing it’s too late. I want to rage. I want to tear her head off and smash her to bits. I want to curse myself out for what I did. But what is, is—and now, they’ve got a way to browse through the code of my Status. Break the contract, keep it, doesn’t matter—they have the code now. At least, a snapshot of it at this moment.

  “I’m to visit the 14-1-1 System Administrator center. I’m assuming that’s where the Root Administrator will be,” I grind out, fulfilling my side of the bargain. I’ve lost this round, so I might as well get what I can from it.

  “Ah…” Sephra says, almost as if she’s releasing a long pent-up breath. She stands, smiling at me widely as she turns away.

  “Hey! About Harry…” I wish I could dare ask what Ezz is doing, how it’s been, but I know better. Better to let them think it’s a simple machine, one that I made because it was required, better not to let them think I care about it at all.

  “You’ll see your friend. Soon,” Sephra replies, leaving me as the door opens and closes.