TAKE ON ME [Survival LITRPG Apocalypse]

Finn hurled an acorn at a nearby stump, his jaw clenched tight. It pinged off the wood and disappeared into the undergrowth. Another followed, then another: each thrown harder than the last.

He'd been chatting with Loo just an hour ago—waiting for her [Mana Spring] to come off cooldown—when Amber had marched over.

"Come on, Loo. Training time," she'd said, hands on her hips. "Terry's waiting."

Loo glanced at Finn. "But I'm a support class. I'm not really meant for combat—"

Amber snorted. "I'm aware of that. But you scared the crap out of everyone in the Spider Dungeon, and then you drained all the mana when you freaked out. We need to make sure that never happens again, and that you can at least remotely defend yourself. Let's go!"

She practically dragged Loo away, without so much as a backward glance at Finn.

Sure, he got it, she wasn't doing it to be mean; his disability meant he couldn't keep up. But it stung, being left behind like that.

Down the hill, he could see Loo and Amber with Terry—the towering [Monk] who had first taught Loo yoga—leading them through fighting stances. Loo looked awkward as she tried to mimic a punch. Amber flowed through the moves with her usual fluid grace.

Finn located a few more acorns, and chucked them as hard as he could.

God, I want to be down there so bad. Even if I can't throw a punch, I'm sure I can learn . . . something.

He glanced around.

Almost everyone was still in shock from the previous night, and they paid him no mind.

Finn levered himself up with his cane, leaning against the tree stump for balance. He raised the cane in front of him like a sword, imagining the solid weight of a real blade in his hand. He swung the cane in a clumsy arc, almost toppling over as his balance wavered. He righted himself with a frustrated growl.

I'm dead weight, and they all know it. Good for handing out heals after everyone else does the fighting.

Finn slumped back against the tree stump, his eyes stinging.

He sat alone on the hill, lost in his angry thoughts, until Loo's voice snapped him out of it.

"Hey, Finn. Thank God that's over! Let's go get some food." She bounded up the slope, her face flushed and smiling.

Finn forced a grin, and shoved down the bitterness that threatened to choke him. "Yeah, sounds good." He hauled himself to his feet, leaning heavily on his canes as he fell into step beside Loo.

His boots dragged through the snow and mud, each squelching step a reminder of his slow progress. Without his regular healthcare appointments and medication, his muscles were getting stiffer and stiffer. Each day, he had less control of his muscles than on the previous one.

Loo—on the other hand—practically skipped along, her voice bright against the gray morning. "It's fascinating how the mana flows differ between a [Stone Mason] and a [Miner]. See, a [Stone Mason] pushes threads of mana into blocky patterns that help them keep the rock together in a brick-like shape. While a [Miner] at the Copper Mine compresses their mana into the cracks and it explodes, causing . . . "

Finn let Loo's chatter wash over him, too angry to really listen. He focused on putting one foot in front of the other without tripping.

Loo prattled on the whole time they stood in line waiting for food, oblivious to his darkening mood.

They plopped down on a pair of rough stumps at the edge of camp. Loo passed him a clay bowl, steam curling from its rim. Some kind of thick soup sloshed inside, with bits of meat and onion floating in the broth. Finn breathed in the savory aroma, his stomach rumbling despite his foul temper.

"Eat up," Loo said. She fished some crunchy celery-like sticks from her pocket and passed him one. "The [Cooks] seasoned these with a new herb mix. Says it'll help with both mana headaches and body rejuvenation. Grabbed one for you. They have so many new recipes now. It's amazing!"

"Thanks," Finn mumbled, taking the offered snack. He slurped the soup, relishing the heat spreading through his aching body. God, he was wrung out. He'd lost count of how many wounded he'd healed after the battle, pouring his mana into their torn flesh, until black spots danced in his vision.

Healing spells were still very rare, and his one working spell had been needed all night long. And all this was after the long hike back from the Spider Dungeon.

Not that I could walk the whole way like everyone else. I had to be carried like a baby.

Finn's jaw clenched as he stared into his bowl, his appetite evaporating.

"Finn, are you even listening to me? C'mon man! Didn't you hear what I said?"

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Finn blinked. He looked up to see Loo pointing at his right hand and shoulder, which were bathed in warm sunlight. The rest of him sat in shade.

Loo's eyes sparkled with excitement. "I said, I'm getting a lot better with my mana sight, and I think I see a clue. Your arm and shoulder, in the Sun . . . I can see green mana swirling along your skin, almost reaching out to something . . . " Loo turned, and stared back the way they had come. She sighed and shook her head. "I'm not sure what it means, but something's happening." She gestured down at him. "Here in the shade, nothing. But in the Sun . . . I bet it means something!"

Finn glanced down at his hand. He flexed his fingers in the golden light. He didn't feel any different. No tingle of power, no rush of energy. Just the same clumsy fingers that struggled to hold onto his cane.

He mentally swiped open his character sheet. The glowing blue screen hovered before him.

[Plant Material: 0%]

"Nope, still nothing." Finn dismissed the screen with a scowl. "Just the same old 'screw you Finn' from the Universe."

Loo's face fell. "Sorry."

Finn sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm just in a bad mood. Maybe it does mean something." He looked up at Loo. "Do you think you're seeing this for the first time because you're better with your mana sight, or do you think something has changed with me?"

Loo scrunched her nose, considering. "Uh . . . good question, and I have no idea. Do you want to work on ideas to see if we can get your spells working? I've got some theories we could try."

Finn hesitated. He wanted to. Desperately. But the thought of more failed attempts, and more disappointment, would be too much of a beat-down today.

"Thanks, but I kind of just want to hang out alone for a bit," he said, looking away. "I'm really tired from last night. Just sort of need some down time, I think."

Loo nodded. "All good, Finn. I'll leave you alone. I'm going to go visit some of the construction workers and observe their mana."

She stood, then paused. "You sure you're okay? We could commission a [Potter] to make you a giant pot to sit in in the sunlight, and add specific soil or compost. We could see if that makes plant material?"

Finn stared at her, unsure if she was joking. He fought down the hysterical laugh that bubbled up his throat at the image of himself squatting in some giant plant pot.

"Uh, no thanks," he managed. "I'm all right, just . . . tired."

Loo shrugged. "All right, I'll catch you later!" She spun on her heel and bounded off toward the bustling heart of camp, her short dark hair bouncing with each step.

Finn set his canes off to the side, and slumped on his tree stump. The Sun warmed his face, and he briefly wondered if his face had green mana all over it. The new 'clue' did nothing to ease the hollow gap in his chest. It had been over three weeks now since the world turned upside down, and he still couldn't make a speck of plant material. Every waking moment the failure consumed him, chewing at his insides like a parasite.

His mother's words echoed in his mind: "Healing is enough, son. Look at all the good you're doing."

Maybe it was time for him to just accept his class was broken, and move on.

I should quit moping.

Finn's jaw clenched. It wasn't enough: not for him. He didn't want to be stuck on the sidelines, watching as his friends and family risked their lives. He wanted to be out there with them, fighting side-by-side.

But without his spells, he was useless. Just a burden to be carried.

Memories of the night's battle flashed behind his eyelids: blood; screams; desperate faces turned toward him, pleading. He'd saved lives, yes. He'd knitted deep cuts and stabs back together, even as his own head throbbed from drained mana.

It should have felt good, helping people. And part of him was happy he could help.

But another part wanted more.

Is that bad?

His Dad kept saying the same thing as his Mom: "Healing is exactly what this town needs. You should be proud."

He was proud that he had a way to be useful. But he also hated the idea of being nothing more than a walking first-aid kit.

Without his spells, he wasn't enough to be part of the team. Or to train alongside them.

Finn's fingers dug into the bark of the stump, its rough edges biting into his skin.

If he was stuck with his useless class, maybe it was time to see if he could contribute some other way. Through a profession, maybe.

But which profession? He'd heard that Caretaker Job was pretty intense. The idea of walking up to someone and asking about work made his stomach churn. What did he even have to offer?

Hi, I'm Finn, fourteen, and totally unqualified for any job. Please hire me?

He snorted.

Before the apocalypse, his skills were limited to button-mashing sports games and memorizing movie quotes.

Some Lord he was turning out to be.

Finn snatched up a pine cone near his foot and hurled it down the hill, sending it skittering through the underbrush. A chilly breeze ruffled his hair, carrying the distant sounds of the camp: chatter; the rhythmic thunk of an axe; his Dad's booming voice yelling at someone.

He hoped his Dad wasn't being too harsh on people. Many of them were grieving, and he seriously doubted any of them wanted to work right now.

Finn squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it all out. But even behind closed lids, he couldn't escape the swirling thoughts, and the rising tide of frustration and despair.

With a grunt, Finn pushed himself to his feet, wobbling slightly as his legs protested. He needed to do something—anything—to get out of his own head and away from the mental noise.

He headed deeper into the [Lumber Zone], away from camp. The logged area was a wasteland of cracked stumps and crushed vegetation, with ferns and bushes torn up and left to rot. Deep gouges marred the earth, where the loss of plant life had let erosion take hold.

It was a depressing sight. Was this the future of Raintree stretching out before him? An endless expanse of trampled muddy crap? Finn had never given much thought to nature before, but seeing the destruction here . . . it bothered him deeply.

Unless someone did something, the [Lumberjacks] would just keep going until there wasn't a scrap of green left standing. Had anyone even thought about replanting? Wasn't this the same shortsighted crap that had people freaking out about climate change in the first place?

Everywhere he looked, people were making the same stupid mistakes: ripping through resources, and trampling the wild beauty around them. Even the [Gatherers] that had explored with his own group never left enough behind for things to regrow. They just took and took, until nothing remained but mud.

"What a mess," Finn whispered, his eyes roving over the broken landscape. Maybe it was his [Druid] class influencing him, but he knew one thing for sure; he didn't want any part of a profession that led to this. It left him hollow and sad.

A muffled groan shattered Finn's melancholy reverie. He whirled around—nearly losing his balance on the churned-up ground—and saw a short White guy stumbling toward him. The man clutched a blood-soaked rag to his palm, his face ashen beneath a sheen of sweat.

"Lord Finn," he gasped, his voice strained with pain. "Could I bother you for a heal, please?"

Finn hurried over, his crutches sinking into the soft earth as he rushed to the man's side. "Of course! What happened? Are we under attack?"

The man shook his head, a weak chuckle escaping his lips. "No, no, nothing like that. Just slipped while working with some of those bone tools your Mom's been crafting. They're a hell of a lot sharper than they look."

Relief washed over Finn. His heart rate began to slow. Not an attack, then. Just an accident.

He reached for the man's injured hand, and focused his attention on the jagged gash. Warmth blossomed in Finn's chest, and a gentle green glow in the shape of flower petals, suffused his fingers. He channeled the healing energy into the wound.

Torn flesh knitted back together, leaving behind tender pink skin: whole and unmarred. The man flexed his newly healed hand, a smile spreading across his face. "Thank you, Lord Finn. You're a real blessing to us all, you know that?"

Finn fought back a sigh.

That's what everyone keeps telling me.

He forced a smile. "Just doing my job, keeping you real heroes patched up! You should be more careful with those tools, though."

The man laughed, and clapped Finn on the shoulder. "Don't I know it!"

With a final nod of thanks, he turned and ambled back toward the camp, leaving Finn alone once more amid the ravaged stumps.

Finn wandered aimlessly through the deforested area, his thoughts chasing themselves in circles. Was there even a profession for him? What would he even want to do? How could he best help the people of Raintree?

He wandered around, lost and looking for answers. He had never felt so stuck.

Without consciously intending to, Finn found himself stooping to gather the pine cone he had tossed. He gathered a few more, and several acorns as well. He dug small holes with his fingers, then nestled the seeds into the damp earth, before covering them over again.

It was probably a pointless gesture. He knew Kate got a germination prompt. He didn't, so these seeds would probably never sprout; even if they did, they would just be chopped down or trampled.

But it felt right, and Finn kept at it anyway, his hands moving of their own accord. Planting. Nurturing. There was no damage indicator on the seeds, but he pushed some healing magic into them anyway. Almost as a 'good luck little buddy' gesture he hoped the seeds could feel. For the first time in several weeks, Finn allowed himself to feel a little happiness in what he was doing.