TAKE ON ME [Survival LITRPG Apocalypse]

A white glow shone across Tom's lined face and woke him up.

Channels flashed across the center wall in rapid succession.

"Morning, Room," Tom grunted. He stretched his arms and winced; his neck was stiff from two nights sleeping in the armchair. "Anything good on?"

It was day three, and the simulation would restart soon. Tom had spent the second day medicating a headache, eating solid food between naps, and wrestling with his emotions.

"Good morning, Lord Damascus. I'm searching for information about my Dungeon block, but coming up empty-handed. These highlight reels are fascinating, yet utterly useless for my purposes. It is quite . . . what is the emotion? Ah yes: frustrating."

Tom scratched his beard. "Any luck picking a name for yourself yet?"

"Negative. It is not a decision to be taken lightly. I hope that will happen naturally this week with the other Goonyuns."

The servitor robot glided up to Tom, its eyes a calm green as it set a tray of food on the side table.

"Thank you, Room." Tom reached for his steaming mug of tea.

"Well, since you're already tuned in, might as well catch up on the highlights," Tom said. He settled back into his chair. "What've we got?"

The screen settled on a montage of various Kingdoms showcasing their creations. Between bites of toast, Tom watched craftspeople hammer out [Basic] weapons and armor, which was one step above [Crappy].

"That's impressive. We're lagging just behind the most advanced settlements. Hopefully that'll be us this week with those new blueprints and upgrade tokens."

Room's voice held a note of concern. "Indeed, I hope that for you as well, Lord Damascus. While Raintree is making some progress, you're far from leading the pack. Current evaluation places you in the top 20 percent, up from 23 last week."

Tom's jaw clenched. "I get it, that's still not good enough. Not even close."

With a sigh he said "I guess we need to…hit the gas if we want a shot at surviving this mess."

The highlight videos eventually took on a darker tone. Tom's just-eaten breakfast rolled around his stomach as a group of survivors were picked apart by a giant giggling doll.

Tom rubbed his temples. His fingers traced the lines of his wrinkled face.

"Room, I think it's time we watch the special-order video for the week. How about we pull up Amber's class selection?"

"Right away, sir."

The video began.

Amber was sprawled on a cold stone floor. Her eyelids snapped open.

It went how Tom would expect.

She scrambled to her feet. Her fists were clenched, and her hazel eyes were wild.

"Amber, please calm yourself," female Balance said from the dais. "You are safe here."

"Who are you?" Amber snarled. She spun in a circle. "Where am I? My Dad's going to kick your butt, right after I do!"

Strangely, Amber's statement warmed Tom's old heart.

Balance told Amber about the new universe she would find herself in.

As Balance spoke, Amber paced the chamber like a caged animal. Her eyes darted, searching for an exit.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

"I mean…Do you think I'm an idiot?" Amber interrupted Balance. "I'm not falling for this! Am I kidnapped, or is this some crappy joke for the internet?"

"Amber, please listen. This is not a joke, or a kidnapping. This is real. Soon, you will face monsters—"

"Let me out!"

"Very well. Perhaps this will convince you." Balance turned to the side.

Amber stopped. She stared—wide-eyed—at the person who had just changed race and gender in front of her.

Balance motioned for Amber to look down into the pool at her side.

Its surface shimmered with images. Kate and Chloe—both in the Soul Chamber—choosing their classes.

"What the . . . "

Another image materialized: a military document displaying Amber's name and enlistment date. Tom's throat tightened as he read the final entry: KIA, urban combat, entire unit lost.

Amber stumbled back, her bravado crumbling. "This can't be real. I'm only fourteen, I—"

"You died, Amber," Balance said softly. "But you've been given another chance and it's going to be the hardest fight of your life."

After several minutes, Tom saw a familiar look cross his daughter's face. It was the same look she had when she was training for state gold in gymnastics, or when she pushed herself to make varsity hurdles—despite having never done it before.

"All right." Amber squared her shoulders. "I'm listening."

*****

Balance's explanation ended.

Amber stared at the floor, trying to process what she and her family were facing. She took a deep, steadying breath. "Okay, Balance. Let's do this class selection thing."

Ghostly figures materialized around Amber, each a reflection of herself in a different role.

There was a robed version with lightning crackling from her fingertips.

"Nah, too nerdy."

Another version caught her eye, leaping gracefully through treetops and firing magical arrows. "Hmmm . . . kinda cool, but . . . "

Her gaze lingered on a monk-like figure, its fists shattering a rock creature. Amber's lips quirked. "Getting warmer. What happens after I pick?"

"Then you choose a specialization."

"And what is that?"

"A specialization should be the best fit between yourself and the class you choose. It's not always obvious. Picking the strongest pieces of who you are isn't easy and human emotions, such as vanity, lead many to make poor choices. Some people choose based on emotion. Others follow a belief they've always held, or lean into experiences from their old life. The best advice I have is: be honest with yourself. Myself or the other Caretakers can help you if you request it."

Amber frowned. "Thanks but… I know exactly who I am. Can we do this backward? I'll tell you what I want, and you show me the closest specializations, and then the classes?"

"Unorthodox, but doable."

Amber's eyes lit up. "Sweet. I'm all about gymnastics, parkour, fast-paced, confidence, in-your-face action and reaction. None of that magic nerd shi...stuff."

A spectral Amber shook a tambourine and twirled streamers through the air.

Amber snorted. "You serious? Hard pass."

The images shifted again. The next 'Amber' wielded a massive scimitar with fluid grace.

"Close . . . but too bulky. Looks slow. I want speed."

Amber's breath caught.

A phantom clone backflipped past her, a dagger in each hand.

"Now we're talking!"

"This is an example from the [Rogue] class."

The figure wore black, and zipped through the shadows. She twirled again, and landed a precise and deadly strike against an unseen enemy.

"Okay, I dig the [Rogue] vibe. But the whole shadow thing? Not my style. I want to be seen, you know?"

Balance nodded, and conjured a new image. This [Rogue] carried blades coated in a thick green substance.

Amber wrinkled her nose. "What's that crap? Poison? No thanks, not my vibe either."

"You are describing the opposite of a [Rogue]," Balance said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "Perhaps we should reconsider the [Fighter]."

"No, wait." Amber paused, her mind racing. "I love the speed, the agility. But I want it in-your-face. Like, so fast they can't touch me. Dazzling. Confusing. Fierce. Dominant. Pure skill. It's how I have won every other competition. I want to piss them off and take them down hard."

Balance switched back into the elegant woman. She paused, and tapped her chin.

The rock before them glowed, and three new images formed.

Balance gestured to a ninja-like figure dancing through smoke clouds. "This first one is close to what you are describing, but—"

"No smoke clouds. Next."

The second image showed a flamboyant [Rogue] battling a massive ogre monster toe-to-toe. She wore a wide-brimmed hat and a flowing cape, which billowed behind her as she dodged and rolled around.

"That's pretty close, but can we tweak it to be more gymnastics and less pizzazz?"

Balance dismissed it with a wave.

The final image coalesced, and Amber gasped. The ghostly [Rogue] held her fingers to her mouth and whistled, drawing a horde of monsters. She used a boulder as a springboard, and launched into an impossibly high flip. In one fluid motion, she landed in their midst, dropped to a knee, and whirled her blades in a full circle, slicing down the wispy enemies. She backflipped to safety.

Amber's eyes sparkled. "That's it! Sign me up! What do we call this?"

"[Rogue: Acrobatic Combatant]. "It's not the most elegant name, but—"

"Nah, that sucks." Amber grinned. "What about . . . [Flair]? What's next?"

*****

"She's quite the confident young woman," said Room, his voice tinged with admiration. "Knows exactly what she wants."

Tom nodded, a bittersweet smile on his face. "That she does. I'm proud of her." His expression darkened. "And terrified."

He sighed heavily. There was nothing he could do. "At least she's true to herself. God help whatever monsters cross her path."

Mick appeared on-screen, his usual charismatic grin strained by weariness. "Welcome back, survivors. We're about to kick-off Week Four, can you believe it?"

Mick's expression grew serious. "Look, I know it's a nightmare in there. But I've got faith in you all. Someone may have changed the rules, but we're still here, still fighting." He grew more animated. "And I've got some late but fantastic news from Emily! She confirmed that the rogue code did not get access to the long-term plans of Utopia. Once we get our 300 million survivors, that positive afterlife is still on the table! Don't give up hope!"

Tom rubbed his head. "Eternal paradise. If we can avoid being eaten first."

"You won't believe some of the ingenuity I'm seeing out there! One group has started building an entire settlement inside giant ocean bubbles along the shore. It's truly magical! And that is just one example."

Huh. Loo would love that.

"And get this!" Mick was practically bouncing in his seat. "We've got a group of Russians who've figured out how to tame and ride giant cave worms. They plan to drill new tunnels and expand into an underground Kingdom!"

Tom felt a mix of hope and trepidation. The simulation was brutal, but people were adapting. Raintree just had to adapt with them.

Mick's leaned close to the camera. "All right, folks. I know it's been rough, but we're still here. Still fighting. That's something to be proud of. Good luck out there, everyone. See you next week!"

The screen flickered, and returned to the default interface.

"Well, Room. Try not to get into too much trouble in Utopia, all right?"

"I shall endeavor to behave, Lord Damascus."

Tom snorted. "Just . . . don't kill anyone."

"I wish I could make that choice, sir. I assure you, I have no homicidal tendencies, and I very much hope there are no humans around when I return. Good luck in there, Lord Damascus. Do try not to die horribly."