TAKE ON ME [Survival LITRPG Apocalypse]

January 7th 2073: The Apartment

A searing pain throbbed through Tom's skull as he jolted awake. His vision was blurred by the harsh artificial light of the room. Every joint in his body was sore and stiff, making it a struggle to sit up. Confusion clung to him and clouded his thoughts.

"What the hell?" Tom groaned, his voice hoarse. He stared at his wrinkled hand, with blue veins running beneath the thin skin. His body was familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

His gaze swept across the sterile and unwelcoming apartment with its white walls, which were devoid of any warmth or comfort. The air carried a heavy antiseptic scent that hung oppressively in the room.

His heart began to race as he searched desperately for something familiar; a sign or object that would trigger his memory.

As he struggled to sit up, wires that had been connected to him fell away. There was a strange pressure on his head. He groped at his forehead, and found a metal circlet there, digging into his skin. He flung it across the room.

The four walls of the small room flickered to life. Videos rotated through images of intense magical battles and people locked in horrific combat, their expressions grim and muscles strained as they fought for their lives. Some hurled spells while others wielded ancient weapons against endless hordes of nightmarish monsters. The volume was muted, but a disheveled talk show host dominated the main screen, screaming and pointing frantically at the scenes unfolding behind him. His eyes were manic and his hair wild, as if he too had just woken up.

Tom stared intently at the screen, trying to make sense of the situation.

Something clicked.

My family!

"Hello? Where is my family? Hello!" Tom shouted into the empty room. A tightness formed in his chest. He tried to recall any memories of them, or of where they were. Everything was hazy and distant.

The walls and lights dimmed, and a soothing voice echoed through the apartment.

"Mr. Damascus," the voice began, "welcome back. Please remain calm. Your memories will return slowly."

Tom took deep calming breaths as the tiniest of fragmented memories began to piece themselves together. The sterile apartment was familiar, but not the carnage on the walls.

A new memory surged forth of a gleeful male voice. "Wishing you all an amazing week of magical competition, and delightful moments with family and friends! Good luck everyone, and see you in seven days!"

Tom clutched his head as that memory gave way to a rush of chaotic fragments: his family screaming; hideous creatures with gaping mouths and razor-sharp claws; the taste of blood on his lips.

What the fuck happened? Delightful moments, my ass!

Tom desperately tried to hold onto the threads of recollection. "Room!" he shouted. "Get me information of my family in Utopia! Are they alive?"

"I will request the information, Mr. Damascus," the voice responded. "It will be just a few moments. It is important to remain calm."

There was no need to wait. His brain absorbed and processed the systems-injected data, and a week's worth of memories hit Tom like a sledgehammer. He collapsed to the floor in convulsions. He found himself transported back to day one of Utopia, the time frame set to fifty years before.

*****

December 31st 2026: Utopia

Tom's eyes snapped open.

He couldn't remember the dream he'd been having, though its residue lingered on his brain. It took a moment to remember where he was.

He leaped off the couch.

Shit, I must have dozed off!

Tom glanced outside. The Sun had almost set and snow had begun to fall. It was full-blown winter now in southern Missouri, and a cold one at that.

"What time is it?" he muttered to himself as he searched around the couch for his phone. His family was supposed to be with the Robinsons for a New Year's Eve get together, and he would never hear the end of it from Bo if they were late. His lifelong friend was a stickler about, well, pretty much everything.

Tom grumbled as he rummaged around the couch cushions with no luck. He stopped, and ran a hand over his short-cropped hair and trimmed beard as he searched his memory..

It has to be somewhere in the couch!

He resumed the search. He worked his way down to where his daughter, Amber, had fallen asleep on the other end. In an exaggerated manner, Tom shook and slid her around the couch to wake her up as irritatingly dad-like as possible.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

In his midforties, Tom was a stocky but muscular guy. He regularly spent time at the gym, focused on heavy lifting rather than cardio.

By the time Tom finished horsing around, Amber had been bounced around like a rag doll.

"Quit, Dad! What are you doing, bruh," Amber groaned. Over the past year or so, his daughter's cute southern twang had morphed into some form of social media-based Gen Z language.

She kicked at his hands and attempted to burrow deeper into the cocoon of covers and warmth. Tom laughed and yanked the covers away. Amber groaned louder.

"I'm just looking for my phone. You haven't seen it, have you?"

Amber was fourteen, with a toned musculature earned through hours spent on gymnastics mats and running track. In that moment, however, her usual grace was replaced by a grouchy couch lump. Amber emerged from the giant pile of covers and shook her head, causing her brown curly bedhead hair to frame her face like a lion's mane.

Still giving him the stink eye, Amber said, "No, but I'll check under these covers." She fell back into the sea of blankets and cushions, rearranging herself to get comfy.

"Thanks for the help," Tom sighed.

I just had the damn thing.

As he pushed cushions and pillows around, Amber's muffled voice rose from beneath the covers. "Dad, Finn and I were talking, and we really want to sled and play outside tonight."

Tom shook his head. "No way. It's freezing out there. You'll get sick."

Amber re-emerged from the covers and deadpanned. "Why did you buy us coats in the first place?"

"But what if you break a bone on the sled? What if you hurt yourself? You willing to risk track season?"

"Dad, give me a break, we—"

"I said no. Seriously, you haven't seen my phone anywhere?"

Amber glared, then disappeared beneath the covers.

Crabby.

Tom turned and yelled up the stairs, "Loo! Have you seen my phone?"

He waited for a response, but several heartbeats passed with no answer.

"Loo?!"

"Nooo," came Loren's bored reply from upstairs. Loren, who went by 'Loo', was the youngest at twelve years old, and was probably messing with her ant farm, or her fish tank, or her frog terrarium.

Tom poked Amber. "Go ask Mom if she has it, please. You don't need to be laying around all day anyway."

Amber sighed and reluctantly unwrapped herself from the blankets. She stomped upstairs to find her mother.

Just after Amber disappeared, Kate emerged from the basement. Her long straight blond hair cascaded down her shoulders and framed her fair-skinned face. Sharing a history of exercising with Tom at the gym, Kate easily hefted a very full laundry basket.

"Have you seen my—"

"Nope. Don't have it and haven't seen it." Kate acted like a great idea just occurred to her. "Maybe it's in this giant pile of laundry. You should come help."

"Uh, yeah . . . let me just poke around here for a few more minutes and then I'll be up."

"Uh huh, I'm sure." Kate headed upstairs.

Tom crouched down and looked under the sofa.

"Mom hasn't seen it either," Amber announced a few minutes later as she returned to the top of the stairs, accompanied by Loo.

"I know, she told me."

"She said you should try calling it," Loo chimed in.

Call it with what?

Loo had short dark-brown hair, a small nose, and was fair-skinned like Kate. She had a real-life resemblance to the child characters in the Dr. Seuss books—hence her nickname..

Amber, with her olive skin inherited from her father, looked even more tan standing next to Loo's fair complexion.

"Dad, I can't find mine either," Chloe said, as she joined her two sisters at the top of the stairs. Chloe, the oldest at sixteen, was the family's introvert, often immersing herself in video games while hiding away from the world. Chloe's skin was fair, and she kept her long blond hair straight.

Chloe was about to speak again when the house violently shook. She dropped the glass she held, which shattered as it crashed down the steps, jolting everyone into alertness.

"Earthquake? Earthquake! Everyone, get down here now!" Tom shouted. He racked his brain, trying to remember what he was supposed to do to keep his family safe. The floor trembled beneath his feet, rattling the pictures on the walls, and sending books toppling from their shelves. Tom's chest tightened as he struggled to maintain his balance. "Get downstairs!"

Chloe glanced at him, her eyes wide and filled with terror, before dashing down the stairs. The sounds of shattering glass and creaking beams intensified as the earthquake continued its relentless assault on their home.

Loo and Amber quickly followed Chloe, but Loo lost her footing and slammed down on her rump. Amber was barreling down behind her and, for a moment, Tom thought they were going to crash into each other. However, Amber swiftly reacted, springing to the side and using the wall to perform an impressive sideways flip, narrowly avoiding colliding with her sister. For half a heartbeat, Tom's brain lagged as it struggled to process what he had just seen.

"Are you okay?" He leaped up the stairs and helped Loo to her feet.

Loo nodded, holding back tears.

"Everyone under the kitchen table, now!" Tom barked. His heart raced as his daughters scrambled to safety beneath the sturdy kitchen table. "Stay there until I tell you it's safe!"

He didn't wait for their response, already focused on finding Kate.

"Kate! Are you okay?" He ran upstairs.

Several moments passed with no answer.

"Kate!"

Why isn't she answering? Is she hurt?

He tripped his way up the stairs and through the hall. Several times he had to brace against the wall during the unrelenting tremors. The house groaned and cracked with each jolt.

As he reached the bedroom, the shaking stopped with one final huge shudder. He heard a cry of pain and followed it to find Kate just around the corner, holding her head in her hands as blood streamed down her face.

"Tom," she gasped. "I hit my head."

Tom held her steady. He winced at all the blood. "Damn, that looks bad babe. We need to get you to the bathroom. Can you walk?"

"Yeah, I think so," Kate replied, her eyes distant. "Are the girls okay?"

"Yeah, the kids are fine."

Tom helped her to the bathroom.

"Let's get a towel to apply pressure, and see if this needs stitches," Tom said. "We should probably head to the hospital either way." He tried to keep his voice calm despite the rising worry inside him. He held the towel out to Kate, and she held it against her head as Tom popped back into the hallway.

"Girls, just stay right there for one minute in case there's more tremors or something! Mom's all right, we'll be right down. Don't leave the table! Understood?"

"Yes, but hurry!" Loo's voice echoed back.

Tom ducked back into the bathroom. He took the towel from Kate and began wiping the blood off her face. He turned on the bathroom light to see better, but the bulb stayed dark. He turned on the faucet, but no water came out. A further sinking feeling settled into his stomach.

Carefully, Tom guided Kate to sit on the edge of the bathtub, where there was better natural light from the window. He found a non-bloody part of her head and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Let's try to clean this up a bit."

Tom wiped away the blood as best he could. The crimson fluid had spread across her face and through her hair, making it difficult to pinpoint a specific wound. Frustration gnawed at him as he continued to search without success.

"Where's the cut? Why is there so much blood?" Tom asked. His fingers combed carefully through Kate's hair, moving her head and neck ever so gently.

"I don't know," Kate replied. "It had hurt bad, but now it doesn't. Maybe it's just a small cut hidden in my hair?"

As Tom was about to reply, the piercing screams of their children reverberated through the house, along with the sound of a window shattering.

A surge of adrenaline propelled him forward. He sprinted out of the bathroom and down the hallway, with Kate behind him struggling to keep pace.

He stumbled down the stairs, and stopped abruptly by clutching onto the railing for support. His breath caught in his throat.

Standing in the center of his living room, next to the shattered window, was a small deep-brown genderless figure. It appeared to be human, kind of. It couldn't have been taller than four feet. The creature's thin wiry frame was a bizarre mixture of muscle and child. Its broad shoulders were nearly as wide as it was tall, with a torso that resembled an upside-down pyramid. Its long arms ended in clawed fingers. To add to the level of batshit-weirdness, a small nametag floated above the creature's head in red text, reading [Level 1 Headless Pygmy: Dungeon Born]. As the name implied, the thing didn't have a head.

Tom gripped the railing, paralyzed by the sheer grotesqueness of the Headless creature.

"Tom, what the fuck is that thing?" Kate's horrified shout echoed through the living room.

The monster's body twisted to face them, revealing multiple human-sized mouths lining its torso. Some vertical, some horizontal, all gnashing and biting with a disgusting frenzy.

Tom glanced out of the window to find two more of them emerging from the darkness. The closest one had pale skin. Both creatures shared the same disturbing features as the one in the house—the multiple stomach mouths, the wiry frame—but the creature farther out in the yard caught Tom's attention the most. It was larger and possessed a single massive mouth: [Level 1 Headless Marauder: Dungeon Born].

The pale smaller creature squealed, and pulled its grotesque form through the shattered window.

Loo's scream pierced the air, shattering Tom's shock-induced trance.

Together, both of the Pygmy creatures took menacing steps toward his daughters.