TAKE ON ME [Survival LITRPG Apocalypse]

Tom's gaze shifted to the sinking Booth, his mind racing.

Fuck.

He jumped in.

There was a momentary blur, and then he was standing inside a room that was at least the size of a full Olympic gymnasium. The walls were a gnarly pile of vibrating sticks, and there was a chilly breeze at his back from the entrance.

At the center of the room was, presumably, the 'god' Bo had mentioned, though he looked more like an executive banker than a deity. He was signing papers at his desk, and moving them from one pile to another.

Tom approached, and cleared his throat.

Job held up one finger as he finished signing his signature. He looked up and greeted Tom with a forced smile. "Mr. Damascus, nice to meet you. I am Caretaker Job. I just had the pleasure of meeting your friend, Mr. Robinson. I think I'm going to be a big fan of his. I do love a 'work yourself to death' job ethic."

Job gestured for Tom to sit in a chair that seemed to appear out of nowhere. As he sat, a luminescent piece of parchment floated out from his chest and into Job's hands. Job scanned the parchment.

"Let's start with the not-so-great news," Job addressed Tom, without looking at him. "Your previous work experience in data analytics won't be of much use now, and your dedication to the gym doesn't seem relevant in a professional sense, unless we consider a career as a personal trainer. However, the need for that currently is poor, so it's not really a strong choice either."

"Uh . . . all right."

"Now, onto the exciting part." Job placed the parchment on the desk. "Your specialized role as a [Sponge] comes with a unique advantage for synergy with many professions. An easy example of synergy is that someone with an [Archer] class might naturally synergize with a [Hunter] profession."

"That makes sense, but I'm mainly interested in—"

"Mr. Damascus, if you don't mind, I have several amazing job opportunities to offer. My first suggestion is the profession of [Miner] with a specialization in rare material prospecting. I'm sure you can see where I'm going with this, but imagine yourself breaking apart giant stones and discovering valuable metals and gems, which could then be absorbed and integrated into your body!"

Holy shit, that does sound amazing.

Tom pictured himself strutting past Headless enemies, laughing as they bounced off his diamond-studded armor.

Job cleared his throat.

Tom's smile and daydream fell away. "Sorry, I was weighing your offer. It sounds incredibly tempting, but—"

The Caretaker raised a finger once more. "If my previous suggestion does not interest you, despite the obvious advantages you are clearly not comprehending, I have another specialization in mind. It is a specialty within the [Blacksmith] profession."

A screen appeared in the air.

Job's voice was energized. "Please pay attention, Mr. Damascus. This specialization may have a unique synergy with your abilities. I didn't offer it first because it will take a lot of practice to learn."

[Specialization: Rune Smith]

Overview:

Are you a master of the forge, with a flair for the mystical? Caretaker Job is in search of an exceptional individual to join our enchanting realm as a Rune Smith. If you possess a passion for merging magic with metal, read on for an extraordinary opportunity!

Responsibilities:

· Craft enchanting armor infused with magical runes to enhance the abilities of the wearer.

· Carve and inscribe intricate symbols, creating conduits for mana that bring forth extraordinary powers.

· Collaborate with adventurers and heroes to tailor runes to their unique needs and preferences.

· Stay abreast of mystical developments and emerging runic arts to continually expand your repertoire.

Perks:

· Work in a vibrant, fast-paced environment surrounded by fellow artisans and magic enthusiasts.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

· Access to rare materials and magical resources to fuel your creative endeavors.

· Opportunities for collaboration with renowned heroes and adventurers.

"I'm advocating for this for one simple reason. Each time you regrow your armor, you have the opportunity to customize your runes for the upcoming battle, whereas all other armor is only able to be rune marked once. It's a powerful synergy."

Tom sat in silence, envisioning himself wearing armor with customizable runes. He could upgrade everyone's armor with permanent runes. Not to mention all the good he could do with the main [Blacksmith] profession.

I'd have another set of abilities at my disposal.

"What do you say, Mr. Damascus? Can I count on you for the job?" The Caretaker was already reaching for a folder that said 'Rune Smith'.

With so many magical opportunities available, will anyone take the mundane jobs, like farming or gathering?

Resources were scarce, and those were the jobs that were desperately needed. The supply of food in their backpacks was almost gone. He remembered reading somewhere that a society is only seven missed meals away from anarchy.

This time, Tom imagined himself strutting around the woods in shining magical armor while emaciated children, including his own, cried for food.

"Both of those options sound amazing. However, we're running out of food, and that's my main concern right now. Do you have anything along the lines of a cook?"

Job stared at him over steepled fingers.

It was a few moments before Job spoke. "A [Cook]? Are you serious? Were you not listening to me?" His golden eyes flashed.

"I was, and I, uh, appreciate the offers, and they sound amazing, but I'm worried no one else will choose the simpler yet essential professions. So, if you don't mind, I'd like to explore the option of becoming a [Cook]."

Job carefully placed both his palms on the desk. "Mr. Damascus. I intend to offer other people those jobs. As in, people who actually know about cooking."

"I know how to barbecue—"

Job scoffed. "That just barely qualifies you for a job offer."

"I can help!"

Job locked eyes with Tom.

Tom tried not to blink.

Finally, Job looked away. "Fine. I helped create the universe, but what do I know?" His face and voice dripped with disdain. "If you insist, since you meet the basic requirements then there is nothing to stop you becoming a [Cook]. This area needs several [Cooks]. So, yes, I can offer you a job." He flung his hand through the air, as though swatting an irritating fly, and a new message appeared.

[Position Available: Cook]

Overview:

Are you someone who has never shown any interest in being a culinary enthusiast? Would you like to randomly choose to be a Cook while everything is on the line? Do you have a penchant to be ordinary in your chosen profession? Caretaker Job is seeking an individual to fill the uninspired and poor fit of Cook. If you have a delicious desire for wasted opportunities, then this might be the lackluster position you've been waiting for.

Responsibilities:

· Clean up after yourself, because someone has to.

Perks:

· Regular, predictable working hours with little room for excitement.

"So . . . does the [Cook] get to make, like, magical foods and things? The posting reads somewhat short. And, frankly, it's pretty offensive to [Cooks]."

"Yes, Mr. Damascus. [Cooks] can create magical foods. This is the cooking job posted for you specifically, Mr. Damascus. There are future [Cooks], including in this area, who will craft fantastically delicious magical dishes which I am very excited to see. However, I doubt you will be one of them."

The screen changed to display a variety of specializations: [Grillmaster], [Spiritual Sustenancer], [Enchanting Pastry Chef], and more.

"Can I come back later and choose my specialization, or do I have to decide now?"

The Caretaker snatched up his papers. "You're choosing between lackluster barbecue and dry cakes. Whichever you pick hardly matters at this point. Later is fine. Please select a free recipe from the table over there."

Job vanished.

Oof. Guess I pissed him off.

There were three recipes laid out before him: [Simple Iceberry Catfish Filets]; [Simple Hearty Boar Kabobs]; and [Simple Honeysuckle Cucumbers].

Tom selected the recipe for [Simple Hearty Boar Kabobs], hoping there was still a frozen boar on the hill. A prompt appeared, asking if he wanted to learn the blueprint; Tom mentally clicked 'yes'. He instantly gained knowledge of how to infuse mana into boar meat, converting it from ordinary food to magical food that provided a buff. A successful meal would yield an eight-hour buff, providing an XS boost to durability, and an XS boost to warmth.

Perfect.

Tom had to duck to leave the Booth. He stepped out, and collided straight into Blake.

Blake was backing away from Bo, his hands raised.

Bo jabbed a finger in Blake's face. "You're scaring everyone here!" he yelled. "If you want to leave and find help, go right the fuck ahead. I'm not forcing anyone to stay, or to get a profession, I'm simply informing everyone because we need to fucking help ourselves."

"Exactly!" Blake's voice was raised too. "We need help, let's go find it! Listen, you're messing with things that you shouldn't, and it's going to get us all killed!"

A crowd had gathered around Blake, Bo, and the sinking Booth.

Blake addressed their impromptu audience. "This profession stuff is a waste of time. Everyone needs to pack up, and we need to start walking to find help. The Robinson and Damascus families could guard us and keep us safe while we travel! We all saw them fight! Instead, you're all here listening to Bo talking about building a damn town, when the army could be just a day's walk away!"

"Listen, Blake." Bo spoke with forced calm. "I'm going to say it again, and hopefully for the last fucking time because you're seriously starting to piss me off. If you want to leave, then go. If anyone else here wants to leave with you, they can go too, and I honestly wish you the best of luck. But for right now, the Robinsons are staying put, and everyone is welcome to stay and try to get through this together. I don't have much faith in finding help out there."

Blake crossed his arms and frowned.

"I know this is a lot of change in just a few days," Bo continued, "and it still doesn't feel real. But this New World doesn't seem to give a shit about that, and we're dropping like flies. We've been given tools for survival through our classes and professions. I say it's time to embrace them and get to work, instead of running around blindly like idiots, and being eaten by monsters."

Some of their observers nodded at Bo's words.

Blake threw up his hands and strode away up the hill.

Bo turned away from Blake, and took several deep breaths.

"Excuse me, everyone," Bo called out, over the creaking of the floundering hut behind him. "In case anyone hasn't heard . . . "

Bo explained how the [Profession Booth] worked, who Caretaker Job was, and how professions were chosen. He also mentioned the immediate need for professions relating to food production and resource gathering.

The mention of food triggered a ripple of energy in the crowd. Someone pointed out that there was little firewood left at the edges of the trees, and that soon their heat would run out too.

"To summarize, we could really use everyone's help," said Bo.

"So . . . you want us to go in there?" A young Black woman pointed at the shack, which was now half-submerged in the ground.

"Time is slower inside there, but . . . yes. And you need to be quick about it."

Someone asked Bo which profession he had chosen.

"[City Planner]. It's focused on managing construction zones and building projects, but my specialization still allows me to get in there and help. So I'm no slouch or desk jockey," he added, though no one had accused him of being one. "I even got a blueprint for a [Simple Cabin]. If we can find a way to build it, and keep it permanent, then having a warm place to sleep doesn't sound too bad, does it?"

There were nods and enthusiastic voices.

Bo leaned toward Tom. "What did you end up picking?"

"[Cook]. I'm planning on boar for dinner."

Bo raised an eyebrow.

Tom shrugged. "A lot of hungry people, dude."

Bo looked around. "Where's Hana?"