Solo Apocalypse

I faded in and out of consciousness. General weakness and the natural desire of the body to recover forced me to sleep, to rest. When my original conscious slept, everything else seemed like a dream. Stark points of realism, lucid dreaming with the vague awareness everything I did was somehow real.

Because it was, actually.

I lowered the bow, watching the arrow quiver in the wood. Ten feet from my wooden target. I frowned, adjusted, and loosed another arrow. The whistling projectile sunk into the gnarled wood of a nearby root. Closer.

I nodded, readjusting the way I held the bow and calculated the arc.

Elsewhere, I harvested edibles. Berries and fruits growing on the wayside of enormous roots. The swamp was bountiful if one knew where to look. I’d cultivated some manner of goodwill by bringing foodstuffs from the swamp, showing whoever would listen what was edible and what was not.

I was also within the camps, watching for the aggressive recruiters. Gary, Jack, and the rest had since returned, their presence somewhat stifling any action on the mysterious Blitz’s part. Rumors about the Dungeon have been spreading, met with eagerness, fear, and skepticism of equal parts.

Some people had entered. No one had stopped them, only warned them of the dangers. The timing was such that I would’ve seen them days ago. It led me to believe they entered an entirely different [Sleepywood], or at least a faraway part of it.

Even if there had even been anyone equipped for a rescue, it looked like it was unfeasible. Let alone the obstacle of convincing any group of people I somehow knew there were people in peril within the most hazardous topic of talk around. No one would be willing, not voluntarily.

My perspective shifted. I was above, carving a small place high in the canopy to dwell. More exposed, yes, but I hoped the altitude would deter most dangers. It afforded me an overwatch of the entire clearing. I could pinpoint each of myselves, the harvester to the north, the archer among the semi-permanent buildings, and the observer nearer to the crowds mingling around the Dungeon and the ruins of the skyscraper. Most people were still scared to approach.

Likewise, with a glance upward and towards the looming trees of the swamp, I could spot myself there, barely a speck among the canopy. Watching.

It was a great way to monitor how the conglomeration of survivors moved. Here, I could see distinct groups, trace with my finger the implicit territories each commanded. See the crowds ebb and flow, the foolish or brave that tested the edges of the swamp. The few who regularly left and returned. Those who didn’t.

It all happened at a strange remove. A certain awareness of my person that wasn’t exactly grasping the danger of my original body, or at least, one that didn’t feel it. An objective worry and logical understanding, but no emotional component. Efficient but not personal. Right until—

I opened my eyes to dull pains, staring at a dim twilight sky. I groaned, trying to move my body. Stiff. I was… covered in camouflage. Leaves and branches, really. Enough that I looked like a bush. Why?

I didn’t immediately see Rose or Rickson, but it didn’t take me long to realize Parker was nearby. He was blanketed similar to me, both of us stashed deep in the brush. My physical senses were not the only ones I had at my disposal, however.

With constant proximity to others in the Dungeon, I managed a working understanding of telepathic perception uninhibited by the chaotic nature of hundreds of minds. I reached out with that perception, extending my senses toward that mental frequency, scanning for the cognitive buzzing I’d come to know as other intellects. The working minds of something thinking.

I found them quite easily actually. My gaze followed my mental senses and I saw they were hidden, not too far from where Parker and I were camouflaged. They were hiding… which immediately rang alarm bells.

[Solo’s Instinct] kicked in, everything crystalizing as I came to a sudden unpleasant certainty. It was in the air, a heaviness. A tangible certainty as much as a presence. The Area Boss. It had followed us.

Minutes passed. Eternity. Not a single movement. Until…

A debilitating sense of dread and danger. I froze, daring to turn my head, ever so slightly. Motion. And then a giant paw made of moonlight descended on the space near my hiding spot. Slow, soft, but with weight enough to compact the very dirt it landed on. Quiet.

I saw Parker, awake and staring at me, between the passing legs of a creature larger at the shoulder than I was tall. Both of us were deathly silent, lest any noise draw its attention. His eyes were hard as the [Twilight Elemntal] passed through the shrubbery, like a phantom bereft of noise.

A shifting figure of moonlight. A beast of twilight, fluid between forms that flickered between light and shadow. Sometimes two-legged, other times four-legged, oftentimes caught between. Humanoid, bestial, feathered, scaled. Dynamic, every form flowing into the next, creating a smooth impossible movement across the grass.

Hunting.

It stopped, exactly between all four of us, too perfectly at our center. Cocking its head, staring at the moon, then slowly dropping its gaze towards the trees. Uncanny and alien, a creature of the [Sleepywood]. Not so much seeing anything, but sensing—

Its head snapped right, form shifting to something completely new. Its mouth opened, silver light shining from its maw. Screams. Rickson was already diving away. A [Firebolt] exploded across its face, jerking its aim to the side.

An entire tree was obliterated. Wood, splinters, and soil exploded, raining. I saw Rickson get thrown to the side. I propped myself up on the trunk, getting to my feet, shaking off the camouflage. I could move, painfully, but I could move.

The roar threatened to deafen my already ringing ears. More silver light, I went for Parker as my other hands grabbed my [Twilight Saber], clones forming as I moved.

“It followed us.” Parker grimaced once I found my way to his side.

I worked to get his arm over me, situating his weight. “God, we need to get out of this fucking Dungeon.” I cursed.

“We can’t leave them—”

“I’m not,” I assured him.

And Sixth stabbed the creature’s flank, blade hissing as it entered the moonlit flesh. The elemental screeched, its entire body jerking.

Sixth ducked as Seventh ran past, seeing the blow as Seventh did. The creature glowed with silver light, head tracking the latter clone. Eighth whacked it with a branch. It hissed and the claw that eviscerated Eighth came too fast to track, let alone react.

It struggled to reach Sixth, shifting to strange forms, before a tentacle eventually found its way around Sixth’s throat. Ninth dashed forward, grabbing the dropped saber, and slashed the tentacled moonlight, releasing the former clone.

Ninth hacked and slashed at the creature’s flank, glittering pale blood seeping into the ground. Seventh found Rickson unconscious, bleeding. Rose nearby.

“Evahn!” She yelled tears in her eyes, casting [Firebolts]. It crashed against the flailing creature, eliciting violent thrashing, born of frustration and pain. “You’re awake! You’re awake…” She repeated, eyes wide, sparkling in the twilight.

“Rose!” Seventh called, scrambling behind the trunk Rickson had been dragged to. “It’s alright! Let’s get him out of here.” I immediately got under him, trying to move him. “Quickly now!”

She nodded, wasting no time even under pressure. “[Lesser Shield]!” She mumbled. And I felt something insubstantial pass over me and Rickson. That was new. “We don’t even know the way back! Rickson’s the one who—”

“I’ve got a good memory.” I interrupted her. “Let’s go!”

Sixth and Ninth, and now another Eighth harried the beast. Physical attacks worked, to an extent, but the only real damage came from the [Twilight Saber] and Rose’s [Firebolt]. And even then, it was minute.

This was a creature that sheer stats couldn’t match. I needed a weapon, a Skill, anything than just bodies to throw against it. An enemy that could kill me instantly if my attention lapsed.

Seventh met up with my original self and Parker, Rose, and Rickson in tow. “What even happened?” I asked.

“Rickson was clearing our tracks and he ran back to camp, telling me something was following. We thought it was roaming the area but it was somehow heading straight for us. We picked up the pace for hours, I don’t know. Rickson’s Skills… We couldn’t run, our best bet was to hide and both of you were unconscious.” She said breathlessly, grimacing. “The rest…”

It was then I noticed the dark bags under her eyes. The fatigue etched into her posture, her expression, and every other inch of her. How long had I been asleep? Something was wrong. How long had we—

The beast screamed and I was at least thankful it killed fast. I groaned, dizzy. I checked my status, stared at the precious stat points, and dumped them across my physical stats. The dizziness receded, my vision became sharper, and I stared backward.

I stepped away from the new Sixth, who immediately went to support Rickson. Fatigue fell over me, more than my weary body, one born from excessive usage of [Never Alone].

Eighth and Ninth died too, a blast of silver energy that burned for a single moment of terrible agony. I made them again, the new clones forking to my left and right, stepping away from the original. And then, I sent myself to die.

Rose and Parker saw them start running, wordlessly, two more Evahns into the fray. Toward the beast, who in its frenzy seemed to have lost our position. I could still see it through the treeline. Too close for comfort. The clones had their task.

They looked at me in askance. A question on Rose’s face, the answer in Parker’s set jaw.

“Distractions,” The man said, making a solemn face. I nodded, glancing toward the Area Boss.

“Rickson said we were close to the exit,” Rose said, exhausted.

I thought I recognized where we were. The [Sleepywood] wasn’t completely monotonous. There were enough wispy trees, flower beds, odd plants, or other stone formations to be noted as landmarks. We were… not far at all.

I stared at Rose, something not adding up. We were further along than we should be. “How long were we unconscious?” I asked, gaze heavy.

She slumped. “Two days.” She said, tearing up. My heart froze as it all came crashing down. The perspectives of my clones outside the Dungeon, the timeline asserting itself. “Two days.” She repeated.

Parker inhaled. “What—that’s…”

I unwrapped a bandage over my arm, slowly, with mounting dread. Where burns should be. And found pink flesh, bruises that were in the process of healing. Aches and dull pain, scabbing, where injury and wounds should’ve been fresh and stinging.

Alone. They’d done it alone, for two whole days. Protecting two unconscious people? They could’ve abandoned us. They should’ve. I stared at Rickson, limp, and found his body entirely relaxed, a certain restful peace on his face, breathing lightly. Bags under his eyes too.

“Parker, can you stand?” I asked, gazing at Rose and Rickson. These two fools.

He took to his own feet and I got a look at his injuries. He hadn’t healed as much as I had, nowhere close, but he’d been better off from the start. He stared at me with determination, tense, but standing.

I nodded. With my clones, we could do it.

“One last stretch, Rose. After that, I’ll build you a damn bed and the whole house with it. You and Rickson.”

The moment we started running, our moonlight adversary howled into the gloom.