Apocalypse Tamer - Chapter 112: Man vs Departure

A tense silence hung heavily over Walter Tye’s shop.

The merchant sat comfortably behind his counter as he read. Unlike Basil, who flipped through the pages of Benjamin’s notebook, Walter studied each word religiously. It was eerie to watch him read without blinking or breathing. His bodyguard Hagen eventually filled the silence with a bored whistle.

“I’m surprised you came to me first instead of warning the rest of your team, Basil,” Walter said as he reached the notebook’s final page. “I thought you didn’t believe in keeping secrets?”

“I don’t,” Basil replied. “I intend to share this information with my team after fact-checking.”

His party had already gone through a lot lately, and he didn’t want to worry them over what could be baseless speculation.

“Very wise. I am flattered that you trust my expertise and discretion so much.” Walter closed the notebook. “On paper, your late friend’s hypothesis is plausible. With the energy your cosmic egg has accumulated, you could reasonably return the Earth and moon to their proper place and restore the damage caused by the apocalypse.”

Basil clenched his jaw. As much as he hated to say it, a part of him had hoped that Benjamin would be mistaken. It would be so much easier to push forward on a straight line than be at a crossroads.

Walter joined his hands together and let his chin rest upon them. “However…”

There was always a but, Basil thought. “However?”

“Gods rarely listen to prayers and almost never answer them,” Walter said. “This whole scenario runs on the assumption that the Trimurti will recreate the world if the competition’s winner asks it of them. Any plan that entirely relies on someone else’s reaction is doomed from the start, in my humble opinion.”

“Kalki would restore Earth if he could.” Basil and the Avatar of Vishnu had had conversations about it. “He wants to end the apocalypse more than anyone else.”

“Kalki is the equivalent of a finger to the greater deity that is Vishnu,” Walter replied. “Do you let your finger dictate your life? If it feels sore from a wound, it might influence your decisions, but it will hardly condition it. Besides, your friend is only one-third of a trinity whose members saw no issues in letting armies of monsters ravage the world.”

Basil crossed his arms in disappointment. As cynical as Walter Tye sounded, he had a point. The Hindu didn’t call Shiva the Destroyer for his kindness. Trying to figure out a deity’s thought process was akin to diving into the dark. You could only go so deep before even the light failed you.

Walter smiled at him. “What do you think moves humans forward?”

Basil mulled over the question before answering. “The search for happiness.”

“From a certain point of view, that is true,” Walter conceded. “But how does one achieve happiness?”

“By achieving milestones.” Basil reviewed all the times he had felt joy in his life. “By spending time with friends and family one loves with all their heart. By conquering one’s fears and destroying their enemies. By achieving peace of mind.”

Walter nodded in appreciation. “All these answers are good, but I personally believe the last two are the strongest motivators of the human condition. The heart of human beings is constantly at war with inner fears. The fear of control. The fear of oblivion. The fear of starvation. The fear of being insignificant.”

“The fear of death?” Hagen mused.

Basil could have sworn Walter’s gaze was briefly filled with regrets; though it might have been a mirage.

“The fear of death most of all,” the merchant agreed with a stone-cold expression. “All humans—daresay all lifeforms—aspire to the peace of heart that comes when they no longer feel fear. An artist presents their work to the public for the same reason a lover finds relief when their companion answers ‘yes.’ In both cases, they are trying to stave off their fear of being unloved. It is why you have saints and dictators. Some try to come to peace with their inner fragility, while others try to drown it in blood.”

“What are you getting at?” Basil asked him.

“Maxwell might have brought the knowledge required to summon the System, but he only went as far as he did thanks to human accomplices like Benjamin.” Walter returned the notebook to Basil. “Without the greedy souls who helped build his towers of death, Maxwell would never have been able to summon the Trimurti in the first place.”

Basil quickly caught on. “You believe this disaster could happen again?”

“Even if you destroy your enemies and prevent them from reincarnating, there is no guarantee someone else won’t come up with the same scheme as Dismaker Labs on their own,” Walter confirmed. “The technology already exists. All that is required is someone’s willingness to do the unthinkable for personal gain.”

“And there will always be a fool who wants to rule the world,” Basil grumbled. If the Trimurti indeed recreated the world without editing out the knowledge that helped Dismaker Labs summon the System, then they were only delaying another disaster. If something was possible, someone out there would achieve it.

“Hence my question.” Walter’s eyes turned cold. “Is a world that made its own self-destruction possible worth preserving?”

The terrifying picture of Shumen burning flared back in Basil’s mind. “Anything is better than our current hellhole.”

“Anything?” Walter smiled thinly. “True, Earth was a better place for your kind back then than it is now… but it was hardly paradise either. Wars were waged over lies. Children died from hunger or gunfire. Boundless greed led to the poisoning of your air and seas.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” Basil replied with a snort. “Because what’s the alternative? To let someone like the Maleking become Overgod? That would mean Earth’s destruction. Keeping things as they are now? According to Benjamin, bugs will eventually tear down the world anyway. Recreating Earth seems like our best option.”

Recreating the world could bring back the six billion people slain during the competition. It might even bring back his mother from the dead.

Walter raised an eyebrow. “Even if you have to sacrifice your friends for it?”

That was the million dollar question, but Basil had found a very simple answer to it.

“I refuse to sacrifice anyone,” he said. “I don’t think I have to do so either. I’ve met elves coming from a planet destroyed by their System in France, so surviving a System’s destruction is possible. Will the Trimurti’s power stretch to other universes if they decide to rebuild the world?”

“I doubt so,” Walter conceded.

“Then it’s just a question of evacuating my friends and allies to other universes before we restore ours,” Basil pointed out. “My girlfriend has a hotline to Outremonde, and your shop exists outside my universe. If we paid you for it, I don’t think you would mind letting us use your place as a sanctuary during the transition.”

“The client is king.” Hagen chuckled. “It has been a while since we had guests. I should bring out the board games.”

“That’s a clever plan, Basil. I commend you for it.” This time, Walter’s smile was genuine. “However, you are still missing the obvious flaw in your argument.”

Basil frowned in skepticism. “Go on.”

“You are focusing on restoring the world as it was, instead of imagining how it should be,” Walter said. “If the Trimurti truly offers you the possibility of recreating the world… does it have to be exactly like the one that came before?”

Basil hadn’t thought of that. He had been so focused on recreating the world as it was that he never considered that more possibilities might present themselves. “Do you think the Trimurti would let me choose?”

“Who knows? At this echelon of power, your only limit is imagination.” Walter shrugged. “What is your ideal world, Basil?”

Basil breathed sharply. Once he would have answered ‘a self-sufficient house in the woods’ but now he wasn’t sure anymore. Too much had changed since, his perspective included.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“Meditate on these words then,” Walter replied calmly. “The hard part begins once you have conquered the world. Perhaps the gods of your universe won’t give you a choice, but if they do, it is better to come prepared.”

“All of this assumes you win the race,” Hagen pointed out. “I’m a betting man, but you’re not exactly the fastest horse on the track.”

Basil nodded in agreement as he remembered his chat with the devil in Romania. One way or another, they would need to overcome many enemies. Ashok, Maxwell… and the Maleking. The Maleking most of all.

“You are forgetting someone, Basil,” Walter said, having read his client’s mind. “The Unity is far from destroyed.”

Basil didn’t like being reminded of it. “I thought you had sold your weapon to their enemies across the multiverse?”

“That’s not true,” Hagen replied. “To some, we gave the virus away for free.”

“Irredentist multiversal empires are a threat to my home as much as they are to yours,” Walter said. “I long for the day when the people of the infinite worlds will understand that trade pays better than war.”

“But until then, you’ll play the game,” Basil guessed.

Walter nodded sharply. “In time, the Unity might figure out a counter to my spell… but the larger a structure, the more brittle its foundations. I have high hopes their empire will collapse under its own weight. However, cornered beasts fight to the death. If my assessment of the Unity’s Grandmaster is correct, then she will do everything in her power to save her rotten legacy.”

“She will try to take a shot at becoming an Overgod.” Basil’s jaw tightened in anger. “You think she will attack Earth herself?”

“You’ve said it yourself,” Walter reminded him. “There will always be fools who want to rule the world.”

“Take it from someone who has killed many, many heroes in his long unlife.” Hagen straightened up. “The closer you get to the finish line, the more death catches up to you… and I feel you’re nearing the last stretch of the race.”

“And I better equip myself for it then?” Basil scoffed. “Good sales pitch.”

“I am still waiting for your friends to unlock the funds they’ve promised,” Walter said, all business. “Once they do though, I will offer you full access to my reserve. No tool can guarantee victory, but it should help greatly.”

“Speaking of tools…” Basil presented Walter with the essence of Pluto. “What could you make with this? We’ve tried giving it to Steve, but the essence rejected the fusion. It didn’t want to bond with Vasi either.”

Basil guessed knowing a spell specifically meant to harm gods didn’t endear his girlfriend to the heavens above.

Walter seized the orb and stared at its dark surface. Basil couldn’t explain why, but he was certain the necromancer and the god’s essence were somehow communicating. A tense silence stretched on.

“The chief does that sometimes,” Hagen told Basil. “He once spent a whole day debating with a princess’ statue.”

“Did he win?” Basil asked. “The debate?”

“If he did, he didn’t tell me.” Hagen glanced at his employer. “Deep down, the chief is as afraid of being wrong as he is afraid of death. He has yet to achieve his own peace of mind.”

If Walter had heard the remark, he showed no sign of it. After half a minute, he chuckled darkly; a scene that disturbed Basil more than facing a horde of Gearsmen.

“Come on, chief,” Hagen pleaded. “Share the joke.”

“This Pluto is a good conversationalist,” Walter explained. “But he is under the delusion that death is a necessary process to prevent mortal overpopulation rather than a terminal disease. At least he is open to diplomacy, unlike some death gods I’ve met.”

“What did he tell you?” Basil asked. Philosophical discussions were well and good, but they had more urgent matters to deal with.

Walter put the orb back on the table. “This so-called Lord of the Underworld has rejected your allies because he wants to bless you.”

“Does it want me to absorb it?” Basil frowned. “I thought it was impossible for Players under normal circumstances.”

“Not you personally.” Walter nodded at his halberd. “He wishes to fuse with your Soulbound weapon.”

“My halberd?” Now Basil was well and truly confused. “Why that?”

“When a god’s essence fuses with a mortal, their power must be suppressed so as not to destroy the host’s soul from within,” Walter explained. “A container without one lets the deity pour more of its power into it.”

“A Soulbound weapon presents the best of both worlds,” Hagen added. “Not only can this Pluto pour more power into the halberd, the fact that it is linked to you means the manifested abilities will be tailored to you personally.”

“I can infuse the essence into your halberd and add a few tweaks,” Walter suggested. “This will raise its quality to S-rank and turn into a weapon of legends. One worthy of your accomplishments.”

“What would it cost me?” Basil asked. Though he trusted Walter’s expertise more than Shellgirl’s new crafting Perks, the latter could try to refine the halberd for free.

“For you?” Walter smirked. “Nothing.”

Now Basil was well and truly surprised. “You would do it for free?”

“The chief likes you,” Hagen said with a dark chuckle. “Though he will never admit it.”

“It would be a lie if I said your intention to return countless billions from the dead did not appeal to me personally,” Walter admitted. “I am curious to see if you can achieve this feat.”

Basil scoffed. “You’ve shown no willingness to save the lives of my fellow earthlings before.”

“Your fights are not mine,” Walter replied with a shrug. “But I am a necromancer first and a merchant second, Basil. I will always respect those who spit in the face of death.”

Somehow, he said that as if it were the highest of praise.

“It is,” Walter said after reading his client’s mind. “Never stop fighting, Basil.”

After exiting Walter’s shop, Basil teleported back to the charred hills around Shumen. Vasi was waiting for him atop one, alone. Her boyfriend had wished to discuss the magic behind Benjamin’s theory before breaching the subject with Tye and the rest of his party.

“So?” Vasi asked, the wind blowing leaves at her under the twilight sun.

“It’s possible, but not guaranteed,” Basil replied. “Evacuating the team to other worlds sounds like our best shot in the worst case scenario.”

“As I suspected.” Vasi put her arm around his. “So… are we going to try it?”

Basil mulled over the question and answered with one of his own. “Hypothetically, if you could recreate the universe in your image… what would be your ideal world?”

“Are we discussing philosophy now?” Vasi put a finger on her lips. “Mmm… can I say I don’t have one?”

“It’s a valid answer.” Basil could hardly ask for one when he didn’t know himself. “But you don’t have any ideas?”

“I’m not particularly attached to this one, I can tell you that,” Vasi admitted. “I’m mostly along for the ride as far as saving the world goes. I would say Outremonde is my favorite planet, but maybe it is simply my favoritism talking. It is not ideal either. They do eat cats for breakfast.”

“No kidding.” Basil raised an eyebrow. “Let me rephrase it. How do you imagine paradise?”

“You could ask me this question in the morning and receive a different answer in the evening.” His girlfriend shrugged. “Priorities and aspirations change with time, my bear knight. My child self’s ideal world isn’t my adult self’s one.”

“I see.” Basil imagined paradise to be like a glowing place of light and contentment—the vision of heaven as defined by the scriptures—but everyone else would have a different interpretation of it. “Thanks.”

“Why the question?” Vasi smiled. “You think the Trimurti will allow for some adjustments?”

“I don’t know,” Basil replied with a sigh. “I don’t know. I hope so.”

Vasi’s smile faltered away. “You want to bring your mother back from the dead, don’t you?”

Who wouldn’t? It would have been easier to stomach if Aleksandra had perished in her twilight years. Basil had just managed to reconnect with her; her demise left a void in her son’s heart.

And beyond his mother, so many died pointless deaths. Six billion men and women were gone, torn apart by monsters or each other. Blackcinders’ attack on Shumen alone had snuffed out thousands of lives. All of them with families, friends, hopes, and dreams.

“I want to see my mother again, but trying to revive his daughter is what drove Benjamin to destroy the world in the first place.” Basil shook his head. “I can’t help but think I should learn a lesson from his tragic example.”

His girlfriend tightened her grip on his arm. “It’s okay to mourn the dead, Basil,” she said. “Or to feel nostalgia. Everyone likes to reminisce about the good old times. But if you idealize the past too much, you’ll stop appreciating the present and find yourself constantly disappointed.”

“Yeah.” Maybe Basil was falling into the same pitfall as Benjamin in trying to undo past wrongs. As Walter pointed out, there was no guarantee that the Trimurti would even allow such an outcome. For all Basil knew, becoming the Overgod was a non-negotiable deal. “Yeah, you’re right. That’s a sure way of becoming bitter… and that’s not what my mother wanted for me.”

After a moment of thoughtful silence, Vasi put a hand on her boyfriend’s cheek. “Basil.”

He held her close and looked into her eyes. “Yes?”

“Whatever happens… whatever awaits us… I can promise you one thing.” She rested her forehead against his own. “I will do my best to make you happy.”

“Same.” Basil leaned in closer until their lips touched. “Same.”

Some said a witch’s kiss possessed magical powers. It must have been true. For a second, all of Basil’s worries and dark thoughts were dispelled like a bad dream. Vasi’s kiss made him feel hopeful for a better future.

“Let’s go now,” Vasi whispered after breaking their embrace. “The others are waiting.”

Afterward, they climbed down the hill and returned to their party’s side. The group had gathered back in Shumen to gather supplies for the journey to Greece and meet up with Rosemarine.

Basil’s favorite dragon had been hard at work.

Basil could hardly recognize the smoking crater left by Blackcinders’ rampage. An ocean of green spanned as far as the eye could see. A primal forest had taken over the landscape. Moss grew over shattered buildings and the rusty remains of Gearsmen were drowned under beds of flowers. Green-skinned nymphs—the Hesperides summoned by Rosemarine’s Perks—tended to gardens of food that would help sustain refugees. The air itself, once choked with dust and ashes, was now fully breathable again. Even the city’s dungeon had become home to walls of thorns and roses.

Rosemarine had made a bouquet fit for a city-sized grave.

Yet in spite of her new divine power, the great dragon awaited Basil with her harness linked to the Steamobile. It mattered not that Steve could move on its own now. Rosemarine simply enjoyed pulling it forward. Vainqueur Knightsbane would probably puke at the sight.

As for the rest of the team… they had all fallen under the thrall of addiction.

“Next one will be the one,” Shellgirl said atop a pile of random items. Basil noticed things as varied as cooking tools, shelves, weapons, boats, fans, a cart, and a tasteful antiquity-era chariot. “Bugsy, your turn.”

“I’m feeling it,” Bugsy said, his fiery wings flapping madly in anticipation. Plato watched him with a look of compassion as he rested on a cushion. “Fate is with me!”

Shellgirl clapped her hands and a gift package appeared at Bugsy’s feet. The great burning centipede swiftly pulled out its ribbon with his teeth to unveil the content: a steel frying pan.

“Ohhhhh!” Bugsy’s eyes glittered with joy. “An A-Rank frying pan!”

“Yosh!” Shellgirl clapped in excitement. “It has four unused effect spots! Four!”

Plato locked eyes with Basil. “It’s over,” said the cat. “Not even Rosemarine’s healing can cure gacha addiction.”

I knew it would end this way, Basil thought grimly. He had expected this scenario to come to pass the moment he read the Perk on Shellgirl’s status screen. “At least Shellgirl is bound to run out of special points eventually.”

“I’ve already found a solution, oh Partner.” Shellgirl patted her pile of junk. “I sell these babies to the System Shop to get tokens, and then buy SP potions with them! I’ve invented perpetual magic motion!”

Well, in that case, they were all doomed.

“One day, we’ll get the S-Rank quality Major Chicken DVD,” Bugsy vowed. “This hope sustains me.”

“Mister, does it count as Christmas if I receive gifts this way?” Rosemarine asked naively.

“The holiday is starting to lose its meaningfulness,” Basil admitted. A winged shadow flew over him and soon landed among the group. “Simeon?”

“I’ve heard you intend to leave Bulgaria like thieves in the night,” the paladin said with a hint of disappointment. “You will disappoint many. The last war council debated organizing a parade in your honor. Some even suggested raising statues in Sofia.”

“If mine is not made from gold, my vengeance will be terrible,” Plato warned.

“You can’t fathom how much I want to stay in Bulgaria,” Basil said. It had taken its near-destruction for him to realize how much his homeland meant to him. “But a friend of ours is in danger.”

“I understand.” Simeon crossed his arms. “Are you certain you do not want us to follow you into Greece? We can cross the border with thousands of troops if you require it.”

“It is fine,” Vasi replied with a smirk. “I already have an army on speed dial.”

“A large force would travel too slowly and be too noticeable,” Basil replied. “But once we reach the Metal Olympus HQ, we’ll summon the Swords of Saint George and Maure’s soldiers as reinforcements.”

“We will be ready then. We owe you our lives and more.” Simeon bowed respectfully. “Is there anything we can do for you before your departure, Ser Bohen?”

Yes, there was. Steve let out a mournful noise, having already expected the request.

“If you find my mother’s remains… if you somehow locate them among all the ashes…” Basil inhaled sharply. “Then please bury them in Varna. My father Dragan’s grave is there.”

Basil knew his mom would have wanted this. Though their relationship had degraded over the years, Aleksandra Bohen never truly stopped loving her late husband. She would have wanted to rest with him.

“Of course.” Simeon put a fist on his hand on his chest, as if swearing to fight a war. “I will put my best spellcasters and crafters on this mission. It shall be done.”

“Thank you.” Basil shook the paladin’s hand. “Good luck, Simeon. Until we meet again.”

“I wish you well on your journey.” The paladin unfolded his wings. “May the Lord be with you.”

After bidding him goodbye, the crew took one last glance at Shumen before preparing for departure. “Bulgaria is a nice country,” Plato observed. “After how many times you’ve spoken of it, I feared reality wouldn’t match up to the propaganda.”

“It is the best country,” Basil replied with patriotism. “Once it’s rebuilt, you’ll never want to leave it again.”

“I hope we can build a new house there one day,” Bugsy said with a hopeful heart. “With solar panels.”

“Good call.” Shellgirl nodded in approval. “With your tail, we’ll never run out of juice.”

Basil imagined himself raising a house in his homeland after helping to rebuild it. The building could come in a thousand different shapes… but he couldn’t picture it without his team living in it.

“Guys?” Basil cleared his throat as his party turned towards him. “Hypothetically, what would be your ideal world?”

Rosemarine immediately found a perfect answer. “A world I can eat, Mister. That way, we can keep this one.”

“My ideal world?” Bugsy squinted. “Uh… I don’t know, Boss. I’m happy with this one so far.”

“I don’t have an ideal world,” Shellgirl replied. “I don’t want for one to exist either.”

Basil raised an eyebrow. He had expected her to ask for a world of wealth and glory. “You don’t want paradise?”

“You don’t get it, Partner.” Shellgirl grinned. “If you live in an ideal world, then you’ve nothing left to strive for. Growth is happiness, you see? If you stop striving for new milestones, then you become dead inside. At least that’s how I see it.”

That… that was actually quite the philosophical answer. It gave Basil food for thought.

“Moreover, the world shouldn’t be ideal just for me,” Shellgirl added. “I can’t be happy if my customers aren’t. Business is all about finding a compromise that works for everyone. I don’t see why I should get everything I want while others receive nothing.”

Vasi gave her friend a coy smile. “Shellgirl, are you suggesting that we redistribute wealth?”

“Don’t get me wrong, Vasi my dear, I’m all about competition,” Shellgirl said. “But it has to be fair. If I set up a shop in Shumen, I would get a monopoly, but that would be because all my competitors died from an orbital laser they couldn’t possibly escape from. I wouldn’t have earned it.”

True, Basil thought. He had been lucky to make it as far as he did; if he had woken up in a city, he might have been murdered in his sleep by a monster when the System initiated.So many had the potential to become Overgod, yet were killed because of circumstances outside their control. Even if I reach the finish line, I don’t have the right to create a world for me alone. I’ve got to honor them somehow.

Only one member of his core party had yet to answer.

“Plato?” Basil frowned at his cat. “What would be your ideal world?”

“A world I share with you, René, and all this merry band of stray pets and misfits.” Plato smiled mirthfully. “But now that I ponder your question, what I believe to be my ideal world may not be the one I need. I don’t like going to the vet, but sometimes it’s necessary.”

Basil smiled. “You live up to your namesake.”

“All I know is that I know nothing,” Plato joked back. “Why ask this question?”

“I’ll tell you all on the way.” Basil glanced at the sun setting on Bulgaria. “We have a long journey ahead of us.”

Whatever awaited them at the end didn’t matter.

So long as they all lived to see it.

End of Arc VII, and of Book III

Next volume will be the last