The Adventurers of Dan and Other Stories: A LitRPG Apocalypse Collection Read online

  I waited even longer before leaving my room, taking the extra time to stretch out my legs. It wasn’t exactly a big deal at this point to wait a little longer, especially after I’d already been stuck in one place for this long. When your life is on the line, and you’ve no choice or place to go, staying in place seems a natural choice. Because out there, on the other side of the door, I knew it was dangerous.

  With the sound of my home being destroyed in the distant past, hunger eventually drove me out from hiding. The thought never struck me that I might need to ration the limited food and water I had in the room, so I didn’t feel any guilt or shame as I grabbed at my secret stash of dark chocolates from my desk drawer and tossed them all back at once. Gluttonous? Sure. Delicious? Yes.

  It was especially hard to watch as the last lone blue-coated chocolate fell to the ground and rolled. I was horrified. But what did I know about dignity? Whether five or ten seconds had passed, I didn’t care. I picked it up and ate it anyway. To be honest, it wasn’t the most disgusting thing I’d ever put in my mouth.

  After I’d enjoyed my snack and picked up some endorphins, I felt a little more motivated to try to figure out a way out of the situation I was in. Even then, it wasn’t easy building up the courage to take another peek outside through the window after it had ended so poorly last time, but somehow I managed.

  I’d been hoping to see that the smoke outside had cleared up a bit. It hadn’t, but the dark shapes that had been fighting had disappeared altogether and, for better or worse, I was alone. With the danger now in the past, it was easier to let my rational brain take over, and I basically resigned myself to fate, deciding it was better to align myself with the belief that the craziness of the situation was going to be my new regular. I needed to come to terms with it and embrace the suck. It was easier said than done, but it was certainly a start.

  At that point, I didn’t have a plan. I mean, really, who would? Some neckbeards on the internet who prepared all their life by watching anime? No thanks. I’d challenge and say that anyone who makes that claim is a liar, because literally no one is ever prepared for the end of the world. It’s something that requires a little more hands-on experience to work through. Fellow neckbeards, I tell you this from experience. Don’t shoot the messenger.

  Anyway, I wasn’t sure where I would even go if I managed to escape. Sometimes it’s better not to think too many steps ahead, or you can trip yourself up before ever getting started. I just figured I’d find my way down to the police station or head north to stay with my brother and his family for a while on their ranch. I hated the latter idea; I could just hear my brother, with his fake Southern drawl, already enlisting me to do chores around the ranch, “Dan, it ain’t much, but it’s honest work.” Yeah, not a fan. I’d keep it open as a last option, just in case literally nothing else came up.

  Before leaving my room, I did one last check to make sure I had everything I might possibly need before moving the dresser to the side. “Thanks for blocking the door for me, buddy,” I muttered as I grabbed onto it, and I moved it to the side. It didn’t take too long to clear the door, and once I did, I was basically ready to go. I just needed to unlock it and move out. But first, I needed to hit myself with a few blasts from a can of body spray before leaving. I’d learned this little trick in junior high. It was pretty much the same thing as showering, right?

  I cursed my nerves and my trembling hands as they struggled to undo the chain on the door. It took a few tries to get it open. Not that it was difficult, it was just that my hands were shaking pretty bad. I considered calling the whole thing off for a minute before dismissing the thought once my stomach started rumbling. The whole thing took much longer than I cared for. More than once, I stopped and put my head to the door; I wanted to make sure I wasn’t expecting anyone or anything on the other side. I went as far as to hold my breath and put my ear to the bottom of the door.

  Once the door was unlocked, I had to take a deep breath and try to hold on to any bit of courage I could find. Which wasn’t much. At that moment, I wasn’t really feeling up to the task in front of me and wanted to just slam everything back in place and try to sleep off this whole nightmare. Instead, I gave myself a pep talk based on my own little formula, WWTIS, What would the internet say? Which in this case was, “Don’t be a little bitch and just do it.”

  Chapter 6: The System Comes

  As I stepped out of my room and into the rest of my house, a message flashed before my eyes, almost like the image of a screen being superimposed on my retinas. It was a little intense and disorienting. Something on the level of looking directly into an eclipse. It hurt the eyes a bit.

  Notification: You are now leaving a designated safe zone. Participants are free to initiate combat against you. Monsters can spawn freely outside of this zone and will attack on sight until the nearby area has been cleared and claimed.

  Would you like to bind your spawn point to the safe zone “My Room?”

  Should you accept, location “My Room” will become your default accommodation.

  Yes/No?

  I looked at the message. I had to, as far as I knew. Looking around didn’t shake the screen away. This was one of those things I credited to spending too much time by myself, or to the blow to the head I had taken.

  I assumed, and it wasn’t exactly a stretch, that I might have gone crazy. I tried, I really did, to ignore the message, thinking it was just a hallucination or some kind of residual effect of something I may or may not have taken, but it didn’t go away. Eventually, I just said, “Fine, fuck it, sure. I’ll just get a little therapy when this is all over and take a few pills and this will all be a bad memory.”

  It didn’t work though. Apparently, there were some fine print issues with me just saying sure rather than yes. “Fine. I’ll play along. Yes, I would like to bind my spawn point to the safe zone ‘My Room.’”

  Notification: You have bound your spawn point to the safe zone, “My Room.” In the event of your death, you will return to “My Room.” The location “My Room” will automatically be joined to the nearest accommodations or rest area location of your last death.

  It took a few seconds, but the message faded from my sight, revealing some of what I had feared to find on the other side of the door to my room. All of my shit was broken. The living room was a devastated ruin that looked like water damage and thirty years of smoking tenants mixed with a wild animal attack. The walls weren’t just pocked with holes, they had massive gouges in them like somebody had alternated between punching the drywall in ‘roid-induced anger and taking a machete to them.

  The furniture wasn’t any better. The couches were pretty busted up with deep cuts and breaks in the frames while the cushions themselves were torn open, and the yellow padding ripped out. My tables were split in half, while the end tables looked like they’d been crushed beneath a giant foot or fist. The television was on its side, its screen broken inward. I hadn’t seen this much destruction outside of a disaster zone.

  Something had clearly happened in the world while I was passed out. Something I might have been better off having slept straight through. Truth be told, I had half-expected to get enlisted into some underground militia and start hearing Eastern propaganda playing on a loudspeaker. I’m talking Wolverines, for the barbarians among you. I think I would have preferred that to the uncertainty and general anxiety I felt at that moment.

  I froze in place as I slid my fingers through my hair then rested my hands on my face. Hey, that spot on my head is gone, like completely gone, not even a scab or a mark. It was the sole silver lining as I looked at the ruin that had been my home. The damage was extreme and hard to just ignore as I started to panic, wondering just how exactly I was going to manage to talk to my insurance about making a claim.

  While I was trying to brainstorm believable lies—meteor storm, monster attack, an act of god, etc.—the monster from earlier reappeared. I heard a growl as a large gray hand, easily the size of my chest, grabbed
onto the wall, the fingers curling where the hall turned towards my room. I froze in place as the monster pulled itself my direction, dragging itself on the floor. A giant skull revealed itself with gaunt burnt skin and a grinning face full of broken yellowed teeth.

  “Well… fuck.”

  I tried to turn around and run back into my room, but I found the doorknob wouldn’t even budge.

  Notification: This way is being blocked; an enemy is nearby. Please remove the enemy before attempting to enter location “My Room” again.

  My heart started to pound, but it started pounding not with fear, but with something else, something unfamiliar. Borrowed strength that wasn’t mine started to rise up within me. I didn’t know it at the time, but the very system and rules that now governed this world altered the mind just enough to make fight over flight the more desirable option. That was why I felt, in that moment, more like some lesser Greek god ready to do battle with a monster of the underworld than a guy who peaked in his early twenties and had to settle for working at a call center.

  The monster reached out to grab me, growling, “Food…”

  I noticed a small silverish bar had appeared over its head that read “Ur’Goth the Reputable” within the rectangular-shaped box. I had no idea what any of that meant, but even though I was afraid, I had no intention of dying then and there. I didn’t want to; I had a sudden desire to live and did the only thing I could, I fought back.

  I reached out to pick up a fallen piece of wood that had come off of either the broken furniture or had been torn from the wall, and I rushed the monster. It would at least need to earn its meal.

  I didn’t have a Braveheart moment or anything like that, and my battle cry left a lot to be desired. Still, it was a step in the right direction. A step the system and the monster seemed to agree upon as I tried to jam the sharp end of my makeshift weapon directly into the monster’s eye.

  The monster, rather than recoiling in pain or attacking me with tooth or claw, stopped right where it was and started to laugh, a laugh that was neither mocking or cruel. It muttered, or at least I thought it muttered, it was kind of a wheezy nasally sound so it was hard to tell, “You’ll do,” before it turned around and left the building.

  I was left stunned, waiting there, wondering what exactly had just happened. Thankfully like most, though not all things, there was a prompt for that.

  Notification: Initial Testing Confirmed.

  Details: Ur’Goth the Reputable has deemed the participant known as “Dan” to be of sufficient courage to attend the Black Tournament as a participant and has opted to not consume him.

  The Black Tournament will begin in 36 hours. You may travel directly to the tournament location by stating the command, “Pathing, Black Tournament,” for guidance, or you may wait until the 36 hours has elapsed to be automatically transported.

  Note: Additional attacks against Ur’Goth will be considered hostile and will result in your immediate and terrible demise. Please use this opportunity to make preparations.

  Chapter 7: The Damage Wrought

  Hindsight being what it was, I was perfectly ok with not having to fight the big monster. I’ll be the first to admit that I would never be the brains of any operation, but even then, I knew that fighting the monster was a death sentence, and I wasn’t in a big hurry to rush headfirst into death. It was pretty clear to me that Ur’Goth could have just as easily reached out with its banana hands and crushed me without effort, turning my bones to dust. I was able to walk away from a fight I had zero chance of winning, and I just had to accept it as a victory; one of the few things that was ok about my day.

  Looking at the absolute shit show that was the interior of my house, I must have whispered, “What… the… fuck…” at least ten times to myself. I would have yelled, but I’m not an idiot. I didn’t want the monster to find a reason to come back or to draw anything else my way. I was pretty sure I was safe from it, but I had no desire to test my luck or draw the attention of anything nearby.

  With disgust, I looked up and saw mold dripping from the ceiling in green and black stalactites that definitely hadn’t been there before. Sure, I may have been living a little dirty, but this was on a whole different level. Aside from holes and tears in the walls and broken bits of boards, most of the living room seemed to be covered in a layer of cobwebs.

  I knew what those webs meant, and let me tell you, I fucking hated spiders. Always had and always would, and I knew the exact and straightforward fix for that little problem. The answer might seem overboard and disproportionate, but I assure you, it was absolutely warranted. Or would have been if the house hadn’t been my parents’. Otherwise, I’d be standing outside with a can full of gas and a handful of matches.

  Luckily, I didn’t see any spiders, even though the evidence of their presence was literally everywhere. But compared to what I’d already seen, what was a few spiders against the way my house was ruined anyway?

  The door to my refrigerator had been ripped off the hinges. Like some bear on PCP tried to raid my fridge in a drug-induced rage. Literally, the fridge door was on top of my now-busted up dining room table. A table my grandfather had made himself from the stump of an old redwood tree. The door, not the table, was warped in the middle like something had tried to brute force it open.

  What surprised me most about the whole situation was that the interior of the fridge was fine. Maybe not that big of a surprise. It was a basic bachelor’s fridge; you know, sad, lonely, full of condiments and leftovers. The mustard and my jar of mayo were untouched. It was weird I still had them; I couldn’t remember the last time I’d made a sandwich.

  Apparently, somebody was listening in on my complaining and expletives because another one of those screens appeared in front of my face.

  Notification: Query - “What the fuck?” *Localizing Language - Intent: “Explanation.”

  Details: The planet known as Earth has become a designated battle dungeon in accordance with the rules established by the System Protocol per the Apocalypse Game. Upon reaching the end timer, the survivors of the Game may safely transport alongside the remaining members of their species to a new world in a transient status or choose to stay as participants during the next phase.

  The entity known as Dan has bound his return point to the location “My Room.” The site known as “My Room” is a designated safe zone. All objects in a safe zone hold the status of indestructible and cannot be targeted for damage by abilities or attacks. Only the entity known as Dan or designated allies of Dan can enter the safe zone. Dan may enter “My Room” through any door from any building of accommodation by requesting “My Room.”

  Note: Exit location of “My Room” can be somewhat randomized.

  When the little screen disappeared, I was pretty sure I saw a few spider legs peeking out from under my broken furniture, I could even hear the sound of legs moving in the walls. It freaked me out more than a little bit, and I screamed. It was honestly a bit much for me.

  I will admit that even after all my previous hype, I ran back to my room and slammed the door behind me, trying not to hyperventilate as I panicked. Basically, I just needed a second to collect my thoughts and figure my shit out. Without the fear of spiders right there. It was a fear I’d need to conquer one day, but today was not that day.

  Chapter 8: The Rising of the Murder Hobo

  I sat down at my desk and tried to calm my nerves by doing a few breathing exercises so I could think in peace. I had the weirdest sense of déjà vu; even though I was sure I’d already cleaned, my desk was still full of trash, so I swept it off into the trash can so I could think without the self-criticism of knowing I could be a neurotic, hoarding trash panda. The situation as I knew it came down to one of two explanations.

  The first explanation for all the craziness was simple. I had gone crazy. The monster, Ur’Goth? Clearly, a hallucination and too many scary movies. The broken screens, massive spider webs, watermelon-sized fist holes in my walls, general destruc
tion, and mayhem? I could have done that when I was blacked out and just not have remembered. Stranger things have happened when you mixed beers and liquors. As for the claw marks gouging most of my destroyed furniture, it could be just my imagination and nothing more.

  I realized, of course, the explanation I had given sounded crazy. Was it possible? Sure, it was possible. Possible that somehow this was all in my mind, the result of a head injury, or drugs, you know getting dosed by other people happens, or simplest of all, I could just have had some kind of alcohol-induced psychosis. Basically, a mental breakdown. I mean, I had been under a lot of pressure at work. No one knew what it was like to be hated quite like being the guy on the receiving end of a call about an extended warranty.

  None of those explanations sat well with me; I just couldn’t accept them as the truth. Sure, I was having trouble breathing even after doing the breathing exercises to get my panic under control, but that didn’t mean I was crazy, even though I couldn’t help but keep obsessing a little bit about hyperventilating.

  My gut, on the other hand, needed some convincing. It told me this was the real deal, and I believed it. It seemed plausible enough, but I didn’t really want to believe it. But I really had no choice. I was too coherent to believe I was having a mental breakdown.

  Everything simply felt too real, and this had gone on for too long to be a break from reality, even if I had been drugged. Which left the second option, and that was worse than the first. The second option scared me, but there was also something about it that greatly appealed to me, even if it meant the monsters were real. The thought sobered me up a little. It could be real, the whole world could have gone sideways, my world could have gone to hell in a handbasket, and that was fine by me.