TAKE ON ME [Survival LITRPG Apocalypse]

Foundation was a kicked anthill swarming with busy people; every person hustled on an urgent task as evening shadows stretched between the half-rebuilt Shacks. Stone hammers pounded against boards in stuttering rhythms, while bone axes bit through fresh lumber. The air was thick with sawdust and the sharp smell of split wood. She had never seen the hill this alive.

The losses from the previous night, the refugees, the approaching monsters, Blake's admission, Dusty's revelation that there was nothing beyond Raintree . . . No rescue was on its way. No military helicopters or cavalry would appear.

It's just us.

Tess was astonished that these people hadn't been broken, like she had been. Even after the horrors of the previous night, they had united into something stronger. And they had all stood behind her in the Town Hall meeting.

Their faith had fixed her.

It also left her more terrified than if they had hated her.

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Did you even pass kindergarten?" Her Dad's voice carried clear across the settlement from somewhere behind the hill. "It's basic goddamn math! Twenty logs, divided by four walls, equals what? Yep! Now, how many logs do you see here? C'mon man, we don't have time for this!"

The rare 'caring emotions' her Dad had shown during the meeting had apparently evaporated.

Back to normal, then.

Somehow, that was comforting.

Like her Dad, Tess had access to 'work mode', and it was past time she used it.

She glanced back at the small cluster of 'runner' kids and administrative staff trailing her.

Tess's first instinct was to hustle through the settlement herself, hunting down all the battle masters she could find. She had been ecstatic to learn that during week three—while she and her group had been hunting the Spider Dungeon—Eric had interviewed people and formed a long list of those whose skills qualified them to be 'battle masters'. She was thrilled with his initiative, but now she was so busy the pressure and urgency to track those people down, while her growing task list loomed over her shoulder . . . Tess forced herself to stop. Breathe. Think.

Delegation. Leaders delegate, right?

"Marcus," she called to one of the older boys. "Can you and the runners go out and begin collecting the volunteer combat slates from everyone? Bring them back to the Town Hall. Also, can some of you find Eric, and help him track down all the people he identified as potential battle masters? I need to see them at the Town Hall immediately, please."

Marcus nodded and consulted with the other children. A moment later, they scattered like startled birds, leaving her with just two administrators clutching their note-slates. Tess motioned them forward, and trudged back the way she came. She pushed through the Town Hall's door and entered the office across the hallway from the previous meeting.

A large desk sat in the center of the room, though 'desk' was generous. The surface rolled and dipped like a choppy lake, since the boards had been created by someone hacking at a log with an axe.

As the slate profiles arrived from the runners, Tess built a stack of them on one side of the desk. They tilted precariously.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

One day, we'll have proper furniture. If we survive.

Tess spread the slates across the uneven surface, and began sorting out the volunteers by role: tank profiles here; damage dealers there; and the precious few healers in their own special pile.

Oh crap. Charlie should be here for the army discussion.

Charlie had taught history before the universe flipped. More importantly, he understood ancient warfare beyond game mechanics. Real warfare, in which armies needed structure. Tess needed his advice.

Guilt pricked at her as she sent one of the remaining administrators to fetch him. The older [Blacksmith] was probably neck-deep coordinating with the other smiths on how the heck they were going to outfit everyone in such little time.

At least she could start rebuilding the teams.

Tess stared at the scattered slates. The weight of responsibility tightened the muscles in her shoulders and neck.

This is exactly what I was hoping for. Why am I freaking out?

Ten teams minimum: that was what she wanted. Teams would work differently than the main 'army'. One hundred people would make up ten trained teams; they would clear Dungeons, patrol borders, explore, and escort workers through dangerous territory. Now she just needed everyone to arrive.

It took about an hour for all the slates and people to appear, but the time went fast as Tess sorted slate after slate into rough categories. She had started to worry she was going to have to chase down reluctant battle masters and beg them to take responsibility—like she had when trying to persuade people to train—but they came to her. It was a pleasant surprise.

Eric and fourteen other battle masters were now packed into the cramped office.

Battle masters could come from almost any class-specialization mix. The variety and different spells mostly worked to accomplish the same thing: [Sorcerer] Eric could summon giant flaming banners to issue orders; there was a [Fighter] woman who could yell orders using different buffing war cries; and they even had a [Psychic] whose mental orders would poke at your brain until you followed them. Overall, everyone had some version of command magic, and some way to see the battlefield from above, so they could guide others through the fight.

Tess smiled. They would be able to make fifteen teams: more than she'd hoped for.

"Hello everyone. Thank you for volunteering." Tess paced behind the uneven desk, trying to project confidence despite the nerves clawing at her. "We have a lot to go over, so prepare to spend several hours in here. We need to leave this room tonight with a solid plan on teams, the army, and training. So please find a seat. Sorry it's so cramped."

People sat in the available chairs, or brought them in from outside the room.

Charlie opened the door and poked his head inside, and Tess updated him with their progress. He smiled excitedly through a face that was streaked with black soot, and asked Tess to send for him again when they were done organizing the teams. They didn't have a [Blacksmith] building up yet, but they had made four anvils already.

Tess thanked him, then turned to the now-seated group. "We have a lot of people counting on us, so let's stay focused and push through this meeting. First, let's tackle teams."

She lifted a stack of prepared slates the team of admins had been working on, each one outlining basic team composition 'theory'. Another slate showed simple movements and formations they had drilled with the kids, which were scaled up for adults and real danger.

"Since time is short, you'll be responsible for forming your own teams." Tess passed the slates around. "While these show desired compositions, I'll accept exceptions if you can explain your reasoning."

Tess pointed toward the wall, where she and the administrators had stacked over 300 volunteer slates in neat categories. "Everyone who volunteered is sorted by role. Tanks here, ranged damage there, healers," she grimaced, "in the smallest pile there."

Several people nodded: healing magic was rarer than gold in Foundation.

Tess continued to point out the different stacks and the roles they represented.

"Okay, listen." Tess leaned forward, wincing as she got a splinter from the [Crappy Desk]. "I know we're rushing headlong into this, and I recognize only a few of you have real battle experience, but here in the time-dilated office feel free to explore all of your options. Have runners fetch potential candidates, so you can meet them and ask questions about their powers and how they would work in the role. Also, if you have larger team dynamic questions, feel free to ask me, or the battle masters who have experience."

She pointed to each in turn. "That would be Eric, who is in charge of Team Two. Lisa, Team Three. Darrell, Team Four. Crystal, Team Five. Team Six will need to be rebuilt after—"

The words caught in her throat. "After last night," she finished. "The rest of you are forming new teams from scratch. Any questions?"

"How strict are these compositions?" A tall dark skinned woman with dyed red hair held up her slate. "What if I want two archers instead of a ranged spell caster?"

"Use your judgment. I can see it working, especially if you can find someone with a group buff that gives a bonus to archers. Look for synergies within your group. Shared buffs can scale up your team's power fast."

"What about level disparities?" This from Darrel, whose team had had a few people quit: they would need to be replaced. "Some volunteers are Level 1 versus some who are Level 3."

"Again, that's up to you. I see advantages both ways. The higher the level, the more abilities they will have available, and therefore the more powerful they will be. However, a lower-level person might end up with abilities that synergize with the group better, if the prompt is correct in that we actually 'choose our own spells'. I've noticed within my own team that our newly acquired abilities often help each other as much as ourselves. I do have plans for leveling to be discussed later, so keep that in mind as well."

No one had any other questions.

The real work began.