Solo Apocalypse

“From what I’ve gathered, most Skills are affected in some way by the attributes.” Rickson was telling us, looking out the building’s windows. The group had taken to speculating about the system and theorizing how it might function in our free time.

The structure used to be some kind of study or warehouse. There were more of those faint symbols on the stone. Tables strewn with diagrams, scrolls, and odd containers. Shelves full of oddities and trinkets, chests and trunks placed against the walls.

We’d already been here long enough to confirm relative safety.

“[Power Strike] uses my STR and multiplies it by a function of my physical attributes. “ Parker supplied, looking around the building.

“That might lend credence to the careful allocation of Stat Points,” Rickson replied. “Beyond using them for just the raw effects, I wouldn’t mind being physically strong, but the [Seeker]Class revolves around reconnaissance and speed. The Skills I have benefit from certain attributes.”

“That’s my experience too,” I said, distracted.

I swiped my finger across the table, coming away with dust. Then my eyes alighted on the diagrams, tracing odd patterns. A browned scroll, pinned flat, detailing some strange system of symbols. Words in a language I didn’t comprehend.

Rose spoke nearby. “I can see them.” She said calmly. “They’re not coming close to the buildings. They’re… fighting, in the middle.” She glanced at me and I knew why.

Parker looked up, “Evahn, how about your clones?”

I answered without turning. “Physical attacks don’t work on them. The saber’s able to cut them and Rose’s [Firebolt] did some damage. They’re staying away from patches of deep shadow like the ones the buildings cast. As for my clones—”

Sixth rolled forward, dodging the swooping ghost without glancing back. The [Twilight Saber] flicked outward and I beheaded one of them, their body evaporating as the blade passed through their neck, an edge of sharp shadow.

Seventh, Eighth, and Ninth watched from the sidelines, monitoring the fighting and surveying the area. Sixth fought.

I stepped forward, twirling with my blade, aware of three other ghosts. They flickered in the twilight, like some optical illusion. One charged at me with a sword of his own, the one that had delimbed Seventh. I glared, watching every movement.

There was no cadence to his step, no indicator of attack. He flickered, then rushed forward, gliding across the air with no respect to the ground. He still swung though. And the deep shadowed edge of my saber caught his sword.

The ghost screamed as my blade rode up his sword with the ringing noise of burning sunlight and beheaded him. It was the third or fourth one that I had killed.

Then I got stabbed in the back, burning pain shooting through my chest. Literally through my chest. I turned and thrust my own sword into my enemy, the ghost screamed, jerking away. Even knowing where the enemy was, I was too slow. They were faster, more agile, a difference in speed and number my sheer awareness couldn’t overcome.

It was the first time I could so clearly watch a clone die. Sixth, after some time, degenerated into nothing, the same effect of [Never Alone] only as if winking out of existence instead of coming into it. The other clones moved—

Back in the building, I found Rose glancing at me worried. I was bracing myself against the table and clutching my heart. I took a breath as my other clones worked to recover the saber. Seventh first, as he was already missing an arm.

The conversation continued as part of me died.

“They’re the opposite of the ifrits,” Parker grunted, arm resting on his knee. He glanced at his gauntlets, a faint glow to them. “I should be able to hit them with these, then.”

“Does it have an effect to do with darkness?” Rose asked curiously.

“Imbued with shadow and sunlight.” He replied. “My strikes were burning the ifrits earlier.”

“Then it should work like my saber,” I responded, slightly depleted. “That still leaves us with embarrassingly little to retaliate with. And those things come in numbers.” I said gravely.

“It might be safer to leave,” Parker said after a moment.

“That same danger is what makes us level.” Rickson played the other side. “But… yeah, we might want to cash out. Whatever’s in the middle of this place is protected and we don’t really have a reliable way to fight ghosts made of literal sunlight.”

Parker glanced out the window. “Are we leaving the Dungeon?” He asked simply.

I glanced around. Everyone here wanted to stay as long as possible, to become stronger. But there was mental fatigue in the group that I saw in their postures. A weariness stemming from constant alertness.

It was in the way Parker’s breaths came. The bags under Rickson’s eyes. The slouch and weight to Rose’s posture. I felt better than I had any right to. These people didn’t have my constitution or levels.

“We’ll head back tomorrow. We’ve stayed here long enough.” I looked at Rickson. “Whatever’s here isn’t worth out trouble, not as we are.” He nodded without argument.

There was some relief in that, knowing we were leaving. I took the first watch that night, Eighth was the only clone that returned, handing me the [Twilight Saber]. Every other clone had died. My mind flashed to images of death, searing wounds and cauterized flesh. The sweet smell of burning meat.

I shook my head and renewed the clones, feeling that faint drain of [Never Alone] before I fell asleep. I slumbered fitfully, but I managed.

The [Sleepywood] didn’t exactly have a day and night cycle, just varying degrees of twilight. One where dawn reigned, brightening the surroundings, and one where dusk dominated, throwing the forest in more shadow than normal. Neither far from the other.

I woke up and found everyone more or less awake, Rickson and Rose inspecting the room.

The clones had been quietly surveying the ruins in my sleep, watching each other move, acting as lookouts for an incredibly efficient one-man scouting party. Going as far as they could out of plain curiosity. I hadn’t seen anything that aligned with Rickson’s [Search].

“Morning,” Rickson said, catching me wake up. Then he looked around. “It’s weird, the entire existence of these ruins implies some kind of civilization within the [Sleepywood]. At least, some history to the Dungeon itself, which is strange.”

Rose yawned. “I thought this place was just… entirely removed from Earth.”

“I think it is,” Rickson replied. “This stuff is alien. Rather, not human made.” He said, picking up a scroll. “But that means this place is static.”

I stretched, mind coming to speed. “Only more reason to treat the system as an unknown,” I said, waking up. “Is Parker awake?”

“He’s outside,” Rose responded. “We went through the place, scavenging. It’s all literature or the like, nothing useful.”

“Right,” I said, distracted.

I got up and walked over, feeling something faint. It took me a few minutes of moving through the area before I realized it was that particular aspect of [Solo’s Instinct] acting up.

Skill: [Solo’s Instinct]

You have an innate sense of your immediate surroundings. An uncanny awareness of potential harm, opportunity, and the world around you.

Opportunity. I took a moment, picking through the shelves until I found a single tome. It didn’t appear to me as an Item or anything like that. It was just a book. But to my senses, it was like a lighthouse if I focused.

I pulled it off the shelf, took a look at it, and found it was in that unintelligible language. I could almost swear the symbols were movings. I rubbed my chin and put it in my bag.

Rose and Rickson were staring at me. “What? It might be worthwhile.”

Rickson chuckled. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Me neither,” Rose smiled, eyeing the book. “Why that one?” She asked.

“Just a hunch,” I said, looking out the building. Dim twilight, like every other day so far. Everything was awash in moonlight, the world in a palette of grey-blue.

Our conversation was cut short. Parker walked through the door. “Hey, are we ready? I don’t see a single one of them, we could leave right now.” My clones confirmed that.

We were out the door within minutes, feet light as we swept through the ruins, tracing our path back. Retreating from danger, clones above as overwatch, eyeing the twilight beams. The bright ghosts weren’t the only danger, as we spotted nightmare ifrits roaming around the ruins, along with other monsters.

We dealt with them easily, using our spears to keep them at bay, and the clones as an early warning system. They followed us out. But nothing was watching their backs.

Outside the ruins, I turned around, suddenly stopping. The cold hand of fear grabbed my spine.

“Evahn? What’s wrong?” Rose asked me. The relief in her posture froze as she looked at me.

“What the hell?” I said, eyes wide. My arms went limp, my face was pale.

“What is it?” Rickson asked, pulling me forward. “We can’t waste time here! Let’s go!”

“All the clones are dead,” I said bluntly. “Something’s following us.”

I had just died four times, and it had been the most painless I’d ever felt. Somehow, that made it worse.