Amazon Apocalpyse 2: Chapter 43 (Patreon)

Frank and Marcus were waiting for me on the hill with the rest of their men. The entire group was armed and had been ready to help fight off anyone chasing me.

"I'm alright, you can stand down," I told them.

"How did you make it out without getting messed up? Their leader is a tough bastard. I watched him beat the old Troll chief into the ground with his bare hands!" Marcus shivered.

He ran a hand across his cheek. One of his eyes was swelling up, and come morning he'd probably have a black eye. Something told me Marcus knew how hard Martin the Boss of the Vipers could punch firsthand.

"I'm fine. I... handled him," I replied.

Somehow, I got the sense that Marcus and the others wouldn't believe me if I told them I'd beaten him so badly I'd lit him on fire and he'd dived into the swamp to put it out. Then his entire gang stood there in terrified silence as I walked out.

I didn't think of myself as the kind of person who could intimidate a gang of hardened criminals into submission, but apparently that was who I was these days. It was an odd thought. I'd never considered myself as anything more than a normal guy trying to do his part with what he'd been blessed with.

Back when all I'd been blessed with was a normal job and a modest career with a good enough relationship with my boss for some upward mobility, that had been easy. But ever since the arrival of the System, I'd felt an increasing burden of responsibility settle on my shoulders. First I'd been blessed with Sakura, and then a powerful class. And then the secrets of my old childhood friend had become increasingly valuable. Then there was Bridget, my fight with Craig, and all the other things that had happened since the integration.

Despite my humble beginnings, I'd ended up with far more power than any ordinary man ought to have. Perhaps I wasn't so ordinary anymore.

So instead of telling my companions what really went down, I turned to Marcus. "You feeling alright, Marcus?"

I wished we had someone like that healer Myrina and her family had. Unfortunately, I hadn't met anyone in Crownhill with that particular skill set. I wasn't sure how you even went about unlocking a healer class.

Was it a class, or had the system made it a job?

Marcus shrugged. "I've survived worse. They just muscled me around a little. They wanted to show me who's boss. The punch happened when I told Martin—the big guy you fought—that he had the cheesiest gang name ever."

I chuckled. "You know, I was thinking the same thing. What kind of guy names their gang ‘The Vipers’? Is he trying to be some cliche stereotype?"

"I'm pretty sure he got it from that apocalypse video game. There's a tribe of raiders from Vault 15 in one of the games. They roam the Mojave Desert. When I asked if that was where he got the name, he denied it… but he looked very suspicious." Marcus let out a short, wheezing laugh as he clutched his midriff.

"So, tell me... what did you hear while you were there?" I asked, curious. "You must have heard something."

Marcus nodded. "I saw a lot, too. Despite their dumb name, The Vipers took care of the trolls pretty quick. Seemed like the trolls weren't expecting a thing. And after dinner, they didn't put up much of a fight."

"Poisoning. I heard one of The Vipers poisoned the troll's food so they'd be easy pickings," I interjected.

Marcus shrugged. "That sounds about right. Anyway, the trolls were expecting some humans to come by and trade for some of those blue orbs. They wanted more of those traps dug that killed a bunch of ogres.”

I knew the trolls hadn’t come up with the idea themselves. This was the first time I’d heard that humans had provided the labor for the traps, too.

“The first thing they told me, though,” Marcus continued, “was that this was going to be the last batch of traps they needed. The ogres had stopped attacking, and the trolls planned to hide in their swamp and rebuild. But Martin and The Vipers wanted those orbs… And man, they really wanted them.”

“If left to their own devices, do you think they would have defeated the ogres?” I asked.

"The trolls are smarter than the ogres,” Marcus admitted, “though not exactly what I'd call geniuses. I was able to fool them into thinking that I was the human representative they were waiting for, and they told me all about their dealings with The Vipers.”

“Apparently people from Crownhill County Prison have been trading with them for some time,” I told him.

Marcus nodded. “But when the real messenger from The Vipers showed up, that's when things got dicey for me. I was able to play it cool for a while. I even got front row seats to watching The Vipers burn most of the trolls alive."

"And the female trolls?" I asked. "Did Martin and his gang lock them up against their will?"

Marcus shook his head. "Not really. Near as I could tell, the male trolls had the female trolls locked up already. I didn't get to see the female trolls fight at all. I suspect they're something like lion prides—if a new group of male lions move in and take over, that's fine by them.”

He shrugged. “The females will just keep doing what they were doing. That's what Martin and his gang were to them—just a new pack of males moving in and claiming their tribe as their territory."

"I guess that's better than enslaving them, like I originally thought." I frowned.

The trolls may have been man-eating monsters, but they were still too smart to be just beasts of burden. That would end poorly, one way or another.

"Oh no," Marcus shook his head. "From what I saw, Martin and his crew hate slavers. It's the main reason they moved out of the Crownhill County Prison complex. Most of the Three Kings—the gang that runs things at the prison—have been raiding the surrounding areas and taking slaves.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Somebody always had to be the asshole.

“At first, they were stealing the skill books the System was giving out so their men would have a wider choice of abilities. But now, their slaves are used as monster bait. Apparently almost half of Martin's crew were former towns people captured by the convicts and brought to the prison by the Three Kings. They only achieved their freedom when Martin and his crew left the prison for greener pastures."

I rubbed my temples, not sure if I was glad I hadn't killed Martin or not. He was dangerous and unstable, but his people respected him. Now, I was hearing that he'd freed a bunch of people from slavery. I briefly wondered if he survived the detonation of my marks after he jumped into the swamp, but then realized I’d have gotten an experience notification if he hadn’t.

I had one last question for Marcus. "What about those cores? Did you see people swallow them?" I asked.

Marcus nodded. "Oh yeah. They tore those things right out of the dead trolls and gobbled them down like candy. It was nasty. I got the impression that Martin and some of his people are pretty much addicted to the things. They got this weird look in their eyes after taking one."

I had a lot to think about—so much to think about that I stayed behind on that rock keeping an eye on Martin's camp while Frank and the others took Marcus home. The weight of responsibility had been growing on me, but it hadn't felt quite so heavy until now I lay there alone as the sun set, far from home.

Going back to the farmhouse would only lure monsters there. Or would it? Perhaps I could use Share Curse on some minor wildlife and send the little monsters coming to harass me scurrying off after other prey.

That was something worth testing out.

The sky turned red, and then night came. Clouds crept over the moon, blocking my view of the stars. It was a shame, really. I'd wanted to look at the stars—it was one of the things I'd gotten used to doing after my parents’ deaths.

It's what I did every time I went down to the beach where Myrina and I were supposed to meet.

A few sprinkles of rain came down and in the distance I heard a crack of thunder. I just lay there, looking up at the cloudy sky.

What did I want? Truly?

Things were stable enough now that I wasn't afraid that we would lose Crownhill. And I was strong enough to keep the farmhouse safe. My trade and training with Myrina and her world would always ensure I was a notch above everyone else on this newly integrated planet.

I could kick back and practice my craft. Martin and these Three Kings he'd run could fight it out. The ogres, too. I was strong enough to keep them all at bay and protect what I cared about.

Why take on more burdens?

Like any other man, I cared for my friends and family. But there was something more weighing on my shoulders than merely protecting my farmhouse or Crownhill. It called me to bring order and stability to this entire shard.

I had little desire to become a ruler, though. That was why I’d handed off most of the day-to-day duties of managing Crownhill to the council. So long as I had my farmhouse, my valley, and my friends just across the way, I would be fine. There was no need to reach for more—I wasn’t some aspiring tyrant who wanted to crown himself king after the apocalypse.

Myrina wanted me to become something she called a true elite. And, truth be told, that was what I wanted, as well. But I was already on that path. I didn't need to become the absolute ruler over my entire shard to make that happen.

I stared at my hands. These were the same hands that had sent Martin running for his life. And he had been among the strongest survivors. I'd already left most of humanity behind with my growing power. And I saw how others treated me because of it.

Kyle, Marcus, and the others I'd met didn't treat me like I was their friend. They acted like I was above them, someone they took orders from. If I continued down this path, I might very well end up sitting on an uncomfortable and lonely throne. But I couldn't bring myself to stand by idly, either.

In the wise words of Spiderman's uncle: 'With great power comes great responsibility.' By the time the rain started coming down with full force, my decision was clear in my mind—I would bring order to this shard.

I would make it a good place to live. And not just for me or not just for my family and my friends. I’d do it not just to uphold my promise to Ben and all the others who fell to make the shelter in Crownhill possible. Or even for the generations of unborn who would come into a world with the System and need somewhere safe and stable to learn and grow.

I would do it for myself.

I’d do it for this sense of duty that pressed down on my shoulders, and because I knew anyone who wanted to rule didn't deserve the job. I hadn't met any of these Three Kings yet, but from what little I'd heard about them, I knew they weren't anyone I wanted ruling over me and mine.

Decision made, there was only one thing left to do. I needed to ensure I had the power to wipe out my enemies—no matter how strong they were. It was my power that had put a stop to Martin and his crew. It would do the same to these Three Kings… and eventually to anyone in Myrina's family who said we weren't allowed to do what we wanted.

When I shook my cloak out, the rainwater slid off the oil-slick fur. I vanished into the night. Earlier, I'd come to the realization that the Ogres were wounded, hurt, and easy pickings. I'd been thinking about bringing out another team from Crownhill to fight them and level, but that had been all wrong.

I dropped everyone from my party. The others had their monsters to fight and level on. These ogres were for me.