TAKE ON ME [Survival LITRPG Apocalypse]

January 14th 2073: The Apartment

Tom groaned as he awoke.

His mind was slow and his body was weak. He was having difficulty remembering how old he was or where he belonged, but there was a familiarity to this that kept him from panicking.

A headache pulsed as Tom's memories sluggishly pieced themselves together.

"Welcome back, Lord Damascus," the room's AI voice greeted. "Please stay rested and calm as the Reality Onboarding Video plays."

The video began, and Tom regained some of his mental bearings. "Room?"

The video muted, but continued to play in the background.

"How may I assist you today?"

"Are my family all okay in the simulation?"

"Yes, sir. As of simulation pause, everyone in your Soul Contract has full health."

"Okay . . . thank you."

As with the previous week, Tom's brain had finally registered the fact that his family was dead. His heart shattered all over again.

An hour later, the Onboarding Video finished. The important information from Week One was appended onto the end of the video, which dealt with Larry's murder and the horrific situation they all found themselves in.

The feed switched to Caretaker Epic's highlight reels, which showed heartwarming moments of people around the globe rejoicing after hard-earned victories. Tom smiled as the clips played; they were a big improvement over last week's gore.

After several hours the feed switched to a live broadcast, featuring the familiar face of Mick Nealy-Nealy. His usually buoyant expression was serious, and he adjusted the collar of his navy-blue scrubs before speaking.

"Good evening, everyone, and welcome back. Congratulations on surviving Week Two in Utopia. Now then, straight into it. I have news. The Utopia team—in communication with the Caretakers—have received new information concerning Larry Oliver."

Mick paused, then continued in a somber tone. "We believe we have detected Larry's soul within the simulation. The AI has followed the rogue code upload to one specific server, which served as ground zero for the terrible changes done to the world of Utopia. While we're not 100 percent sure, it is our belief that Larry's soul is trapped within this corrupted server. The Caretakers have been completely locked out and are struggling to get answers."

Holy shit!

"On a related note, work continues on decrypting the software upload to fix Utopia. However, no new advancements have been made there either. The questions still remain; who, or what, is behind this, and how do we fix it."

Mick cleared his throat. "In the meantime, the fight will continue for a third week in Utopia, and we need to stay positive. I know this may sound ridiculous, but in times like this I find that laughter is the best medicine. Let's enjoy the following highlight reels created by Caretaker Epic."

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The screen flickered, and switched to a montage of hilarious incidents in which people managed to outsmart or escape the monsters in bizarre ways. In one scene, a man used a legit banana peel—coated in some type of dripping, glowing goo—to send a snarling creature tumbling off a cliff, its legs pumping before it dropped out of sight.

Videos played throughout the day, and live Mick occasionally popped on-screen to give his thoughts on one reel or another.

"I'm going to toss out a trigger warning for anyone watching," said Mick. "This next clip is an emotional story of loss that Caretaker Epic insists on playing. If you remember, this couple was featured last week in one of our hero highlights. I am sorry to say they did not survive Week Two. This is their story."

The screen transitioned to an older White couple fighting bravely against a group of red devillike creatures dressed in loincloths. They were shielding a young family that had been cornered by the monstrous horde.

"Damn," Tom muttered under his breath. He recognized them, and his jaw clenched as they struggled to hold back the advancing crimson tide.

Even without Mick's warning, it was clear this was not a victory reel.

The man's powerful wind blasts cleared a path for the family behind them, allowing them to escape. The woman cast bright white explosions that tore through the enemy's ranks.

However, their spells were weakening. Their mana was running low, and the wave of monsters pushed forward.

An arrow pierced the man's chest. His legs crumpled, and the woman let loose a scream and dropped beside him. She cradled her husband, and held out her hand; the threat of her devastating magical spells was enough to hold the creatures back for the moment.

"Harold," she murmured, her voice strained but tender.

Blood pumped from the wound in Harold's chest, and pooled on the rocks beneath him.

"I love you, Mags," he gurgled. He grasped for her hand, the movement weak and erratic.

"Love you always, Harold," Mags choked out through her tears.

Harold gasped for air, but his eyes—clouded with pain—never left hers.

The horned creatures pointed and laughed.

Mags leaned forward, and rested her head on Harold's chest. She closed her eyes.

"Do it," Harold whispered, his voice barely audible.

A red brute approached the defeated couple, and—with a clawed hand—signaled for them to be collected.

Mags clung to Harold. Her body visibly trembled, but her face was grim and set. Part of the screen zoomed in to show a virtual image of their organs. Mags closed her eyes, and a white crackling haze formed around both hearts. The organs beat faster, and their light intensified.

The laughing creatures closed in.

The old couple's hearts were now mini-stars. They imploded.

The explosion tore through Harold, Mags, and a dozen of the nearest creatures. One Devil's decapitated head landed in front of the camera, still wearing an expression of mirth.

The few survivors shrieked, and fled from the smoking, fleshy crater. One of them was missing an arm.

Mick returned to the screen, his face pale and his eyes glistening as he looked into the camera. Tom couldn't tell whether Mick was genuinely grief-stricken, or just nauseated.

"That one got to me," Mick said solemnly. "Caretaker Epic said that the people they died to protect got away. He thought Harold and Mag's tale of heroism should be honored."

The screen flickered, and a montage of new hero highlights began. Despite the horror and brutality of Utopia, pockets of people around the world were standing against the endless hordes of monsters, and some of them were . . . winning. Several of the clips reminded Tom of his own family in their fight to survive.

Can we make it?

Tom's anxiety spiked, and the AI service robot fetched his medications.

The highlights ended, and Mick reappeared. "Hello again, everyone. This will be my last live broadcast for the night. We're going to shift gears into some less intense highlights for the rest of the evening. Goodnight all, and I'll see you tomorrow on the next live show."

Mick's image flickered off the screen.

The monitor panned out to reveal a map dotted with thousands of communities across the New World, each represented by a small, glowing circle. The rotating globe shifted to Tom's left wall, and the main display zoomed onto a bright dot located on the west coast of what used to be Mexico.

The town looked out over a white beach and its vista of lapping waves. It was composed of small lumber buildings—like Raintree—but the Shacks' wood was 'hairy' and reminded Tom of coconuts. A long, partially built dock stretched out into the ocean, and several small one-person fishing boats bobbed on the waves. The video zoomed through the Settlement, showing off other construction projects the town's residents were working on.

A petite Mexican woman was standing on the beach with her hands in her hair. She pointed vigorously at some plans she had drawn in the sand, and yelled at a couple of men standing beside her. Tom wasn't fluent in Spanish, but he didn't need a translator to understand her meaning.

Huh. A lot more Bo's in the world than I thought.

Tom peered at the globe on his left-hand wall, which was locked onto the North American continent, and found a golden circle which could represent Raintree. The more powerful the Settlement, the larger and brighter the icon.

There were two other dots located somewhat close to them; a smaller circle to the east, and one to the north which was around the same size.

The Raintree dot seemed to be holding its own compared with the glowing speckles scattered across North and Central America. Only a handful of them were visibly larger.

"Raintree may not be the largest or most powerful Settlement," Tom said to himself, "but we're not doing bad."

"Your recent zero casualty battle alone is a major accomplishment, sir," the room said.

"Damn right."

Tom watched a few more highlights, but his eyes began to droop. He had been awake almost a solid twenty hours now, and it was all catching up to him.

"Room, pictures please."

Tom pulled his covers tighter around his old frame. He drifted off with pictures of his children, his wife, and his friends scrolling by on the walls.