Apocalypse Reborn: V4: Epilogue (Patreon)

Apocalypse Reborn: V4: Epilogue

…

The famine was as difficult to manage as I thought it would be.

In the game, going through events was simple. A pop up of some text, some art, and choices pop up on the UI. The game pauses, you can save, and pick any of the three options. Even in hardcore and ironman mode, you can have the best choices on your phone, so the timers on the event pop-ups barely matter.

However, in reality, managing to deliver thousands of tons of food across a continent is a logistical undertaking  of ridiculous scale. Without computers to manage and track everything, I needed to hire offices worth of clerks and field agents to just keep track of the shipments. Additionally, I didn’t have any trains or cargo ships. The fastest and most reliable transport system were my aerial shipping lanes, and they were inefficient and hungry for resources. Finally, there was the fact that there was still going to be plenty of people who’ll go hungry and die no matter what I did.

No matter what I did, hundreds of thousands of people were going to die, and that put a sour taste in my mouth even as I worked through the night.

It was always there in the back of my mind, with every order I gave, every writ I issued, and every dilemma that I knew the exact, correct answer for.

People out there were going to die because of lack of food, because the Academy and the Scholars decided to attack one another, burn each other’s fields, and force everyone else to step up after putting them down. Even though I was doing everything right, bandits were still going to spread across the land, as they turned to stealing for their children. Whole villages living in the outskirts of my control and that of others were going to be wiped out.

Wells dried, so people died of thirst.

Fields went fallow, so people died of hunger.

Food was fought over, so people died from one another’s hands.

These problems could’ve only been solved perfectly years ago, by a united front, and all I could do now was mitigate damage.

This fucking sucks.

I’d restart this campaign on principle, if I could.

…

Before I knew it, we were just a season away from the hand-off of the Scholar’s Citadel to the Conquerors.

Meaning that, of course, we were a turn away from having to commit betrayal and put the Conquerors down.

Just a bit past my eighteenth birthday.

“Ayah, the economic report, please?” My office experienced a few changes thanks to the addition of a third Citadel. Now, my table had slates of malleable material encased in metal frames. Click a button and the ‘sheet’ portion becomes malleable and you can write on it. Click the button again and what you wrote stays there, and you can pop the thin sheet out, and pop a clean one in. Another switch can be flipped so that the frame imparts the same text on the clean sheet. Very good way of having triplicate documents. Masterfile, copy to send to one person, and another copy to another person. They helped more than I cared to admit. “Ayah?”

I looked up from my inscribing to find Ayah at the door, speaking to a messenger.

A messenger in the all black of my ‘Royal,’ express messenger corps.

Most postage across the continent flowed along my flying shipping lanes, or the flying Pony Express that I developed, but for anything of vital importance they came through on my fastest messengers. I gave them the fastest of the winged horses, they were the finest riders and received more supplies, better equipment, and extensive training to fly whole days. Two of them working together in a relay could reach one end of the continent to the other in just three days.

They’re the fastest people that I’ve got… and that meant any news that they brought was the most important and time-critical.

They were my substitute for instant pop-ups for events, basically.

And, since all the events of the Famine were over and dealt with, one arriving now meant something new and terrible happened.

The confusion and fear on Ayah’s face confirmed my fears, as she came to my desk with the opened message held in trembling hands.

It only took me a moment to read it over, before I got up and started walking to my dresser with Ayah in hot pursuit.

“My lord…”

The Deliverer was dead.

Crusher was thought to be the killer and now controlled the Citadel.

And, finally, Conquest asked for my aid in killing her father, as her and her people just managed to survive a slaughter and escape to our shared border.

In the town where I shared a drink with Crusher.

There were thousands of questions in my head, along with a bubbling fear in my stomach that Khanrow was still gone and will be gone for another four months at the very least, while this unknown was thrown our way.

“I don’t know what happened, nor what happened to the people that we trusted, but we need to move swiftly.” Compartmentalize. Stem the bleeding for now. Find what can be done, then solve the bigger challenge piece by piece. “Get eyes on the Conqueror’s cities and towns. Send the nearest band of troops over to that town and begin creating trench lines and fortifications. Start sending supplies over there now.”

Ilych and Rita were scouring the Academy lands of the recent monster incursion and delving into the ruins. It’ll be two weeks before they can return with their troops. Riegert was reinforcing the Citadel of the Scholars and its surrounding lands for potential attack by the Guardians and the Wardens after our planned betrayal. Moving him out of there was asking for trouble, at least until we can contact the Guardians and the Wardens and inform them of what was going on. Khanrow’s apprentice was across the continent and looking for Scholars, and I wouldn’t want him anywhere else with what those people could get up to.

Sarala needed to stay right where he was and keep producing money, thus I was left with a decision that I didn’t want to make.

Interact with Khanrow’s granddaughter.

The living, breathing apocalypse magnet.

Yeah.

My boss’s grandkid was the de facto ultimate demon lord of the setting… and I was going to be feeding her EXP.

Game devs, if you’re listening, please stop fucking my life over.

It’s bad enough!

…

“Well, that is a surprise! What could’ve possibly happened to the Conquerors?” Morgan is the default name for Demon Lord/Big Bad of the game. The name stays the same for the first run, but everything gets randomized in later runs. Gender, race, traits, class, looks, everything is randomized, so you have no idea who they are for future sessions. The idea is that any Champion in play for any Faction can end up fucking them over in the future. Traitor, imposter, terrorist, spy, whatever you want to call the ‘Morgan’ was the Champion you didn’t want on your side, because they’ll fuck you over. “How can I help?”

There is, however, a way to identify them every single time.

Unfortunately, identifying them makes it clear why you can’t murder them.

Their stat line is fit for a final boss of a whole game session, meaning that killing them early, before their inevitable betrayal is suboptimal.

Endgame Champion statline is very good to have at your disposal, even without all the equipment and artifacts needed for later.

“I will be going there to investigate the matter personally and I need a second guard to leave the Citadel.” Usually, Ilych or Rita would take up that role, with Ayah taking up the first slot at all times. Sirena was considered for the position, but she was back with the Wardens, probably helping with their Faction-Specific quest chain. Every turn that passes, the closer my closest allies get to becoming omnicidal zealots. It sucks. “If you are willing, then—

“I am! The gods know that I’ve spent far too much time in this Citadel! Grandfather is far too cautious.” I know. It’s hard to believe that young, bespectacled, and mousy woman right in front of me is the biggest threat to life on this planet. She’s absolutely swaddled in thick and baggy clothes, always carrying a tome, and her glasses are just massive, thick circles that practically mask her face. This woman’s an absolute nerd, despite all her talent and skill, and she didn’t look like she could hurt a fly. Yet, she’s got the statline, she’s got the name, and she never failed once in any task she’s been given. The perfect Champion… therefore the perfect traitor. “Allow me to come and assist you. When do we leave, Jack?”

“Within three hours, pack lightly.” Morgan puffed up at my words, glad to hear that she had time to prep, and she pushed up her glasses. Her hair was short, cut to her shoulders, and wavy.  “However, first, come along. We need to get you some artifacts and equipment.”

“Alright, Jack!”

Seriously, she was your typical talented genius born into a great family like the majority of Champions.

The only difference was that she was too good to be true and could do everything right.

Espionage? She’ll catch a spy within a few days.

Administration? The town she’s working on becomes ludicrously prosperous.

Research aid? The project is completed ahead of schedule and under budget.

Diplomacy? She’ll have people begging for her friendship within a turn.

Combat? There’s nothing I’ve thrown at her that’s given her a hard time.

Everyone else had things that they couldn’t do, but not Morgan.

A part of me hoped that I was wrong, that the name meant nothing and that she really was just an exceptional individual raised under perfect circumstances without a single flaw, but I wasn’t counting on it. I’ll need to use her sparingly, prepare to put her down in the mid-game, and handle the consequences of doing so before she showed any signs of corruption. To mitigate that, I needed to keep her fame down, make sure she didn’t lead any organizations and towns, and generally… keep her close by and acting as a bodyguard.

Yeah.
I needed to keep the ultimate bad guy of this planet, the person who’ll subjugate even the fucking demons of this world to her cause, as close as I possibly could.

In-game, there’s no way for the Morgan to not become the traitor, but maybe I could if I paid attention and if I did things right.

Still, I was going to prepare for the worst.

“Hm. What are you thinking about, Jack?” Morgan interrupted my train of thoughts as we walked together. My normal guards formed two columns around us, while Ayah, I, and Morgan headed to the treasury. They’d heard of what was happening, so they were more tense than usual. “Have you figured out what’s going on with the Conquerors?”

Augh, the worst part of having Morgan around was that she asked too many questions and was smart to boot.

I needed to bullshit regularly to keep my secrets my own.

“Crusher was loyal to a fault to the Deliverer. He would rather perish than allow harm to fall upon him. Conquest is loyal to her nation, but she also loves her family. Whatever happened to cause this current problem… happened as we were all handling the famine.”  Thankfully, I could buy time by using the truth. Mix in the lies well enough, or just say the same thing long enough, and the lies may as well be considered real. I’m holding using actual propaganda as a reserve, but I’ll be using it often later. “Crusher may have been framed. Someone may have stolen his face, and another Conqueror has taken the mantle and seized the Citadel.”

“I see. Hm. All of that is certainly possible. No. It’s the most probably. However, we can’t ignore other possibilities. Do our foes beyond the continent have any ability to take over minds or bodies, according to your studies, Jack?” Why? Why can’ you just be a normal, overpowered Champion instead of the big, bad evil person? Do you know how helpful it is to have someone talented at everything on your team? It’s really amazing. “There is, of course, the possibility that one of the other Citadel holders have done something to destabilize the Conquerors before they received their second Citadel.”

She knew the real plan regarding our Third Citadel, but she spoke of the publicized idea like it was the truth.

She’s going to be a real pain in the ass to fight.

“I’ll send a message off to Gilbert and Khanrow’s remaining agents to look into the matter. The Merchants may have played their hand with a Champion versed in cloaks and daggers.” If there was anyone who could smuggle a coup force into a capital, it would be the Merchants of the Marshlands and their Espionage Champion. There’s been enough time for them to research disguises, too, and the Citadel’s medical facilities could be modified to do some crazy things, like replicate facial features and scars. Yeah. Completely possible. “Still, save those thoughts for our travel. We need to equip you with as much as we can.”

We reached the vault and armory of the Citadel and the two gates guarded by Citadel-forged Guardians opened in our presence.

Ilych and Rita’s work during the early game was now paying off.

Most of the gear was common or green, nothing special, but a full set of artifacts and equipment was still a decisive edge.

Walls and walls of weapons, armor, and trinkets from ages past were arrayed before us and Khanrow’s granddaughter looked upon it all with delight.

Meanwhile, the faint displeasure in my gut deepened into worry and fear.

There was only one event that could take out a Faction’s Citadel and send their land into civil war that came to mind.

The “Dominated Mind” event where Demons usurp a Citadel, which occurred when a land’s corruption was just too high and most of their population turned to Demon worship.

I wanted to say it was too early for that to be possible, that there just wasn’t enough time for that to happen, but the whole situation, if true, was telling me otherwise.

Just what the hell am I supposed to do if endgame events decide to pop while I’m still struggling to put together a nation that can survive?