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

  More than once, we pop up near monsters, but one thing I’m quickly realizing is that Xy’largh is huge. Like, Jupiter-sized. Which would make you think it’s got a rather ridiculous gravity but, obviously, it doesn’t. That’s because it has a hollow center of sorts.

  No, it doesn’t make scientific sense. We’re in the middle of the Forbidden Zone, remember? A lot of the planet doesn’t make sense, not after all the Mana warping the planet and its surroundings have gone through. I have a feeling thanks to the poor Mana translation effects of pre-System Earth, that’s where Jules Verne got his inspiration from for his famous story. Then again, human imagination is wild.

  Rule 34 and all, after all.

  Eventually, we stop, Yllis striding forward without a word as I stand before the empty cliff face. She waves and the entire wall swings open, revealing the chamber within. She doesn’t stop, walking right in, so I follow her.

  The moment I enter, my connection to the outside world and my minimap shuts down, Mana blocking enchantments and materials shutting things down. Even as I look around, tense, the door slams shuts behind us, sealing us within.

  ***

  Yllis is at a console, tapping away and viewing the information that pops up. Ali floats over, and other than a momentary glare, the woman ignores the Spirit. While Ali’s doing that, I’m reaching outward with my own senses, testing the defenses and sealing properties. It’s fascinating to me how this entire thing works.

  The safe house—and I’m certain that’s what this is—is not entirely blocked off from the System. Can’t really do that when Mana is included. Instead, it cheats by creating a Forbidden Zone within, by using selective filtering of Mana. Basically, it keeps any System Mana out and forcibly expels it at a higher-than-normal rate while pulling in unaspected Mana.

  Contrary to belief, there are fewer mutations within because the unaspected Mana is forcibly converted to System Mana at a high speed, which is then expelled and returned to the System with only a portion used to keep the entire thing running. It’s incredibly inefficient and I can tell—just by eyeing the Mana Batteries, materials, and enchantments within—that it’s incredibly expensive.

  But it’s also an artificial, mechanical way of creating a Forbidden Zone, locking out System shenanigans except the donation clause. It even bypasses the entire thing of leaving a gap in the System’s senses since there is a large amount of Mana being donated. For all intents and purposes, this place looks like any other non-magical location to anyone looking at it from outside—unless, of course, you’re right on top of it.

  I take a few more minutes to spin through the code before exiting the System, finding that the team has spread themselves out. To my surprise, there’s a pile of items in one corner: an assortment of firearms, explosives, simple armored jumpsuits, and regular clothing. Right next to the pile are a bunch of chocolates.

  Speaking of chocolates, Harry is wandering toward me, a box of chocolates in hand and a worried look on his face. “John…”

  “So did you help them get in and choose not to tell me because of the listeners or did you just get dragged along again?” I say, cutting through the bullshit and not taking the peace offering.

  My words make the man flinch, the lines across his brow deepening for a long second. I don’t relent, staring at him.

  He opens his mouth to reply, croaks a little, and has to visibly swallow some saliva before he answers. “I didn’t. Help them, that is.”

  I stare at the man for a few more minutes, then nod and grab the box from him. I pop one of the pieces into my mouth—roasted almond bits in a dark chocolate covering—and speak around it. “Whatever. So why the look? You changed your mind again? You on our side once more?”

  “I never left!” Harry shouts, glaring at me. “I’ve always been your friend.”

  “Mmm…” I’m giving him a hard time, but there’s a point to it. “So, you coming?”

  Harry straightens with a nod. “Yeah. Yes. Damn it, yes. I want to come.”

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean why? This is the biggest story out there!” Harry waves a hand around. “If they still gave out Pulitzers, I’d be showered with them for covering it.”

  “But they don’t. Instead, they’ll probably shower you with knives and other spiky instruments,” I say. “If you’re lucky. You have an out. You could leave, wander into a city—or get dropped off—and just stop. Why keep risking it?”

  “Because I’m a reporter!” Harry’s shaking a little from the emotions flowing through him. Whether it’s fear or anger, I’m not sure. I’m not entirely sure he knows either. “It’s what I do. It’s what we dream of. Covering something important, putting out information that can change the world and the people who live in it. Whether it’s a war in a far-off country that no one can bloody name or place without a map, or a single refugee scrabbling to put food on the table. It’s what we do. What makes us tick.”

  “At the cost of your life?”

  “Yes!” Harry shouts, getting right into my face. “At the cost of my life. What kind of life do I have anyway? Any of us do, after the System came? I don’t have a girlfriend or mother or father anymore. My son’s dead, my sister so shell-shocked by what we had to do that she can’t, won’t talk to me anymore. Because I’m a reminder of the world we lost. What do I have left to lose?”

  I open my mouth to point out he still has his life, a potentially very long one too. Mikito is watching us quietly, and even Bolo and Yllis are curious. The only person who looks bored is the Yerrick rooting through the piles of equipment and pocketing stuff for his own use.

  “It’s not…”

  Harry doesn’t even notice my aborted attempt at speaking. “So yeah, I’m afraid. I’m tired of being dragged along, forced to make decisions about what to do at the drop of a hat. Forced to weigh risks and feel like I’m putting everyone, everything I care about—care in the abstract, because Lord knows, we don’t have anyone left in reality—everything I care about in danger if I refuse. Or agree. Or both.

  “But at least it’s better than… nothing. There’s nothing on Earth for me. Just memories of a better time, of what-ifs. If I hadn’t chosen to cover that peace summit, if I had just stayed home for once. Maybe I could have saved them. Maybe I could have done something more than watch my entire world burn down.”

  His chest is heaving, his breathing hard as he finishes. Tears are tracking down his face. The only sound in the room is his heavy breathing and the clink of items dropping to the floor as the Storm Warden keeps browsing.

  “So yeah, I’ll come. Because I’m tired of being scared. And if I die, so what? Maybe the youngsters, those who didn’t grow up with a world that only lives in their dreams now, maybe they can move on. Maybe they can forget lazy nights at home, catching a match on the telly or having pints with your mates at the local. But I can’t.

  “I can’t.”

  The last words are a whisper, one that threatens to break my heart. He lost—we lost—so much. For the first time, I realize maybe I’m not the only one who can’t move on. Maybe Harry and Mikito left not just because there was a better story or because I was going, but because out here, the memories are a little weaker. The pain, less common.

  Never gone though.

  That doesn’t change.

  “All right then.” I put a hand on his shoulder, give him a squeeze, and drop it long before it gets uncomfortable for me or him.

  Harry stalks off, and I’m left with a box of chocolates and a realization that I’m a narcissistic ass.

  Then again, what’s new?

  ***

  We gather around the living room, taking seats wherever we can find one, twenty minutes later. I want to see Ezz, figure out what’s wrong with him, if there is an Ezz left, but it’s not the time. Not yet.

  Once I was done with my chocolates and had fought off Xaxas’s raiding of my pile, I managed to reequip myself with my much depleted standard loadout. A half dozen types of grena
des, a couple of mines, and a few temporary force shields, along with a lot of clothing, temporary shelters, and food. Basic adventuring gear. Everything else, from my enchanted equipment to the remnants of Sabre, is lost.

  I’m not happy about that, but thankfully, the most expensive piece of gear I had was Spitzrocket. Unconsciously, for the most part, I had been following one of the more common combat methods—one that relies more on Skills and spells with only a few, very expensive pieces of equipment. Mikito followed a similar build, especially since she had Hitoshi to rely upon.

  Others shift the math the other way, focusing on multiple different pieces of gear, none of them too expensive but still level appropriate. Bolo and, to my surprise, Harry are prime examples of that kind of fighting style. Well, not fighting in Harry’s case, but you know, equipping style. Bolo’s hammer is Soulbound, but his armor, helm, gauntlets, and even boots are all items he upgrades as necessary. In the armor’s case, even if it doesn’t look new, it’s an entirely new piece from the one he wore the last time we worked together. It just came from the same crafter.

  Harry, on the other hand, keeps a wide variety of equipment but all of it cheaply bought for the level and specialized in its effects. He’s more the use-and-toss method, with multiple backups. I know from experience he’s the kind to have multiple defensive equipment in place, mostly focused to deal with area effect Skills. His Skills might keep him hidden and out of the direct line of fire in most fights, but it doesn’t help if someone drops the equivalent of a nuke.

  All that being said, having the Spitzrocket means I’m not all the way down. I’ll still be nowhere near as effective as I was, what with some of my borrowed Skills gone, but the Spitzrocket will have to do. Just like the map that Ali pops into space to answer the question I’ve been asked.

  “… and that is where we’re going. Not that I really know much about the local geography, but I figure that’s where you come in, Bolo.” Then, glancing at Yllis, I add, “And you, of course.”

  “No,” she says flatly.

  “No, what?”

  “We’re not doing this. Dragging you out of your damn prison was bad enough, but at least we knew it was a survivable action. This, this is just suicide,” Yllis replies.

  “Why?” Mikito asks.

  “There be dragons,” I intone, drawing a smile from the humans and eyerolls from the others. I don’t stop, of course. “Wake not sleeping dragons, for you are small and crunchy. Or am I not reading the Mana level reports right?”

  “There are no dragons there,” Yllis states coldly.

  “Then what is the problem?” Harry asks, though a tightness to his eyes says that he’s waiting for the next shoe to drop.

  Ali beats us to the shoe drop, even as Bolo opens his mouth. I note he’s been deferring to Yllis a bit so far. Ah, interpersonal relationships. Always lovely little conundrums of pain and heartache. It’s why I blow all of mine up with napalm and run away cackling as the flames beat on my back.

  “What scares dragons?” the Spirit says.

  “Nothing!” Yllis says. “We’re just not stupid enough to wander into a hive of Voowmah.”

  “Hive? Voowmah?” I mutter, prodding the Library. I’m surprised I’ve never heard of them or gotten a download before now. If they can scare dragons, they have to be something.

  No surprise that the Library decides to answer with the something. A lot of something.

  The Voowmah is just the name the dragons use. They have a lot of names, a lot of different, terrifying names—World Devourers, Civilization’s End, the Hunger are just the nicer ones—but most call them the Swarm. And that name, I know. I’ve had downloads of them before, a lot of them, though mostly on a sideways notation.

  Now I get the full history, though there are surprisingly few direct reports. One of the disadvantages of them being mostly a Forbidden Zone monster / sapient type. No one’s entirely certain if the Voowmah are pure monsters or System-enabled sapients or something in between. It’s not as though they’re great conversationalists, being more the mate-and-devour type.

  First sightings started thousands of years ago, nearly at the same time as the dragons themselves. Unlike the dragons, who have formed their own civilizations and even managed to gain some semblance of acceptance—at least on Xy’largh—with sapient creatures, the Voowmah never have.

  Mutated insects, their home planet long lost to time, they jet through space in ships made of the corpses of their people tens of kilometers long and wide. Occasionally, a few monsters are sacrificed to guide them along the floating waves of Mana, using the System’s need to transfer and churn Mana and Mana’s own propensity to collect around the living to guide them.

  Eventually, they find a living planet. They hit the planet, shedding and burning the dead bodies of their people until only those who have hibernated through the flight are left, forced awake from the heat. Eventually, they hit land, kill a few hundred more of their people, and create a zone of devastation from the landing.

  Then they start eating.

  Each ship starts with lower Levels on the outside and the core of the hive—high Level, mutated forms—within the central area. Most hive ships are easy to handle at the start, as the low-Levels, many suffering cold and re-entry damage, are taken down. That works for the Voowmah though, since that fattens up the native populace and monsters.

  Then the core comes out and the real nightmare begins. Creatures that have lived hundreds, sometimes thousands, of years, with the Levels to boot. Like most hive creatures, they’ve got a wide variety of types, specialized fighters who Level in their own roles. Mages, sneaky types, upfront vanguards, and drone warriors. Worse than their individual strength is their coordination.

  Scholars still debate if it’s a true hive mind, or just a weird Skill that gives them their ability to work together. It doesn’t matter to warriors. We just know it’s a pain in the ass.

  You’re struggling with one of their people, pushing back and maybe holding your own. Then out of the ground, creatures erupt and grab your legs. Hold you still, just for a few fractions of a second. You break free, but it costs you some hit points, maybe a cut here or there. Then as you set up for the fight with your original opponent, they’re gone.

  And someone else, someone who can hard counter your particular Skills, comes. Use a lot of Penetration Skills, that’s fine. Here’s a warrior who has stacked Resistances rather than armor, making your Penetration less useful. Add in a massive regeneration rate and you’re suddenly struggling with the single man.

  You fight it out for a bit, the bastard taking forever for you to wear down. Whatever. They keep sending useless drones out of the earth, grabbing your legs, pulling at your arms. Slowing you down. You win, maybe you even kill your opponent.

  Then another one comes. Maybe they trade in, maybe they replace. Doesn’t matter, because the next time you’re in the middle of a struggle, something grabs your legs once more. You react as they have taught you to do, pulling at your legs, thinking it’ll be easy to break free. Oops—it’s a high-Leveled grabber, a shield Swarm-member.

  And suddenly, you can’t move. Can’t break free. You’re experienced of course, a real fighter. It only takes you by surprise for a second, maybe less. It doesn’t matter though, because they’ve got an Assassin Voowmah behind you, putting a tentacle through your back, the warrior in front of you gripping your face with his suckers and slurping out your eyes.

  You try to run, but of course they’ve got anti-teleport Voowmah on hand, all of them piled up ready for you. They grab you, drag you down, kill you. Maybe they sacrificed a few hundred minions, a couple of mid or high-Level monsters.

  It doesn’t matter, because they consume you and Level themselves.

  And then they go on and eat the rest of your family, the rest of your planet. Consuming every single iota of biomass until there’s nothing but them on the planet. Then they pull together again, form one of their dead ships, and blast off to find another planet. br />
  I shudder, tearing myself free of the memories, the recordings that play through my mind. Some sick bastard put all of that into the Library, Tithing his memories, his last few minutes of himself and his people to the System. As a warning, as a promise of what was to come. It’s a great and pointed lesson. Which leaves me with just one question.

  “Why is Xy’largh still here?” I say. “If they came for you guys, why are you still alive?”

  Bolo snorts. “We are not easy prey, Redeemer. Not easy prey at all.”

  “Two. There have been exactly two cases of the Swarm being beaten back. The first had a trio of Legendarys on hand. Including Ell’s and his planet. After he rammed his planet into one side, the other two got to work before the Swarm landed. The other case was exactly the same. The Swarm ran right into the fixed defenses of Irvina and the Galactic Council that was meeting at the time. They never even managed to land since the Weaver had figured out they were coming long before anyone else ever had.” I pause, my eyes narrowing. “And you’re saying Xy’largh beat them by themselves?”

  “In a sense,” Bolo says. “They came when they were much younger, before they became the Swarm, the World Devourers they are now. They fought my ancestors and the Ancients, the dragons of yore. It was, in a way, the very act that forged our bond.”

  I pause, eyes narrowing as suspicion grows about the place they’re pointing at on the map. “Wait. Let me see if I get this right. You beat them, but not all of them. They landed, tore up a lot of ground, but you managed to eventually contain them. And then, as a sign of… what? Your new friendship and alliance between one another, you left the rest live?”

  A slight pause as the two natives share a look. One filled with a slight amount of embarrassment but more, with exasperation at the tourist simplifying their history.