Amazon Apocalypse 4 [Deleted Chapter]: Chapter 74 (Epilogue)

Kyrina Samhain, on Mucaria one day ago.

Kyrina sat in the Samhain family booth and watched as her daughter was defeated. Cyra losing wasn't something easy to watch, even if she knew what was happening.

The only thing that made it better was her other daughter sitting next to her.

"You're sure?" Kyrina asked.

Myrina laughed. "I'm sure, mom. It's Carter in there. Cyra might be out this round, but you'll still get to cheer me on in the finals."

"I can't believe you let the crowd name you Feisty Redhead. If your identity comes out, it'll be en embarrassment for the whole Samhain Clan..." Kyrina sighed. "But things will work out better if you lead the auxiliary forces. You have more experience off-world than your sister, and are more familiar at leading forces with foreign fighting styles. I know you are a capable drill sergeant and can turn green troops into veterans quickly, but please leave matters of strategy to your brother. He has been trained for such things."

"When have I ever let the family down? Wait, don't answer that." Myrina grinned wide at first. She wilted when her mother seemed to be considering serious answers.

"You are sure you can win, though? Carter defeated you in a duel once before. You are stronger now, but after seeing how he dealt with your sister without a single spell, I am afraid."

Myrina waved her mother's concerns away. "He isn't interested in the auxiliary commander position. Besides, he and Cyra deserve some time together. Seeing big sis all lovey-dovey is just... weird. I think we'll all be more comfortable if I'm off-world for a while. They can have a long night, and hopefully I'll take care of the tournament before they even wake up. Besides, big brother Herius as this whole planetary liberation thing in the bag, right?"

Kyrina was silent a moment. Ladwick was a large world, and liberating it would be no easy feat. She cursed the day her son has sworn to do just that. Her fingers wrapped tightly around her daughter's shoulder as she spoke.

"How will you use his armor? Most masterwork sets like that have curses to prevent all but the user from activating them."

Myrina rubbed her hands together. "Already taken care of. I'll have Gobgob swap the outer armor plates on his Doomblade armor to my set. The crowd won't be able to tell the difference, even though it will be my original set deep down. My Feisty Redhead outer plates can be mounted to Larin's Mark One Armor."

Kyrina rubbed her temples as she watched a confused crowd decide whether they were suppoed to be cheering or booing Doomblade.

"I swear, daughter, there had to have been a way to make this easier. Couldn't you have just asked Carter to throw the final match?"

Myrina adamantly shook her head and her hand curled into a fist. "Impossible! If that happened, I'd be stuck as Feisty Redhead forever! Doomblade... damn it! How did Carter come up with that before me..."

Reluna, in Crownhill

Reluna poured over her latest talisman, ink-stained fingers whetting her brush for the final time. Her legs ached from sitting so long, but this talisman would be a masterpiece, she was certain.

She held her breath, then with all the care of a surgeon, made the final stroke, completing the most elaborate talisman she’d ever done. She didn’t move a muscle until she was sure the ink had dried. Then, carefully, she poured mana into the swirling complex of lines. To anyone else, it would have looked like elaborate abstract art, full of geometric patterns, twisting spirals, and more than a few symbols deciphered from Carter’s mysterious books from the age of the Architects.

Congratulations, your Scribe job has reached level 189!

The notification marked her talisman a success. When she arrived, her scribe job had barely been a C-Grade, and now she found it at its very peak. These ancient books were a source of limitless inspiration and new ideas for her, and already, she was making talismans her professors could never have dreamed of.

Then Reluna slapped her creation down on the artifact Carter showed her, called a copy machine. Instantly, the machine replicated her one masterwork talisman into a hundred.

Congratulations, your Scribe job has reached level 190!

Congratulations, your Scribe job has reached level 191!

Congratulations, your Scribe job has reached level 192!

The levels came in one after another, slowly diminishing over time as though the System was catching on to her trick. But as soon as she came up with a new design, the copy machine would give her another flood of new levels.

When she’d agreed to follow Carter to Crownhill and investigate for Chaos God influence, she hadn’t dreamed this newly integrated world would be such a treasure-trove of wonders. First, ancient books containing lost secrets of enchantment, and then mysterious artifacts that could churn out talismans faster than an army of scribes?

This place was too good to remain untroubled for long. Soon, the System would allow C-Grades like her to come and go from this realm. And when they did, the rest of the Arcadia Multiverse would surely take notice. Already, she knew this place had caught the eyes of the Chaos Gods. Along with one other she couldn’t yet place...

***

Vayly, of the House of Vaust, Governor of the Vaust sector of outer worlds.

Vayly was in a foul temper, and the lesser races attending to her trembled at the sight of her. She sat on her golden throne, a thousand steps above the rest of her court. Her palace sat atop a moon orbiting a gas giant, and from floor tiles to vaulted ceilings was made from shining metal and flawless crystal. The asteroid field that surrounded her palace was normally much smaller to disperse the light in an artful display over the top of her throne room, but ever since House Vaust’s worlds came under siege by foreign invaders, the nearby orbiting rocks had been replaced with explosive mines and arcane defensive platforms.

Beneath the steps leading up to her throne, hundreds of humanoids stood in anxious anticipation, all of them C-Grade or higher.

Foremost among them, a shivering man with red skin and horns knelt before her throne as he prepared his report. Despite emanating the power of a peak B-Grade, he could hardly stand in Vayly’s presence, such was the might of her aura.

This natural sense of supremacy wasn’t something Vayly ever had to work for, but rather her right by birth. As one of the eternally blessed descendants of the Architects who created the System, she had been given unmistakable power. She’d been born at C-Grade, and only grew from there as stats were delivered to her in never-ending abundance. After all, the System was created for her people’s benefit.

Heads bowed all around her. Some spoke, saying, “We greet the scion of the architects.” Others merely lowered their heads.

Vayly settled into her chair, awaiting the words of her messenger.

“Speak,” Vayly demanded.

The red-skinned man shivered again, this time more visibly. But at the end of it he rallied himself and spoke.

“I b-bring bad news and good news, milady. Which shall I begin with?”

“The bad first,” Vayly waved him to continue.

“Ladwick, your crafting world, has nearly completely fallen. Precious few obelisk settlements still give heed to the System, and System infrastructure is already being dismantled and repurposed by the enemy.”

Vayly’s fingers wrapped tight around the arms of her throne-like chair. “Which one? The Cultivators or the Heretics?”

“B-both, milady. The Heretics are taking the infrastructure to continue construction efforts for their own makeshift, cheap copy of our glorious System. The Cultivators are picking over the ruins like the vultures they are.”

“Damn barbarians. They can’t even wait for the world to finish falling to ruin before picking it over. This insult to my family will not go unpunished. I need more A and B-Grades to slow their advance. No doubt the other houses are laughing at me as they hold back their best vassals.” Her lips turned down into a scowl, and eventually a glare. Her grim look must have given the messenger before her a fright, because he turned a paler shade of red before continuing his report.

“Wait, wait, milady! Don’t be angry! I have good news too. You want to hear that, right?” the messenger said anxiously.

Vayly forced herself to be calm again and waved the messenger to continue.

“The good news is that we have a volunteer force from Glacia headed this way! They are led by some lesser prince who thinks fighting on the front lines will win him levels and favor in his father’s court.”

Vayly brightened. She was not overly fond of the God-King of Glacia, since he was one of those few peak A-Grades who was not a descendent of the Architects. Even so, this could be the lucky break she’d been waiting for.

“How many A-Grades does he bring?”

The messenger shrunk in on himself. “Ah... none, milady. He’s B-Grade, and brings a host of B and C-Grades with him.”

Instantly, Vayly’s hopes crumpled to nothing. “More fodder. Hardly news, let alone good news. Send them to the front lines. Maybe they’ll slow the cultivators down long enough for me to raise a proper army. Also, guards! Execute this messenger. One minor force led by a B-Grade is hardly enough to consider news, let alone good news.”

“Wait, milady, no!” the man screamed for a short while as two enormous armored figures grabbed him by either arm and dragged him around a nearby corner. The messengers’ pleading sobs cut short a minute later as blood splashed upon the fine palace tiles.

“If that’s all, I’m leaving to commune with the System. If you disturb me, know you’ll suffer the same fate as him.” Vayly nodded in the direction her guards had dragged the messenger off to for his execution.

There was a chorus of terrified mutters of acknowledgment, but Vayly ignored them as she stood from her throne and turned to the exit behind her, where she took her leave.

No doubt her vassals were using this time to gossip behind her back. Vayly didn’t mind it. Precious few of the lesser races understood the idea of non-magical recording devices, which was something the palace was full of, thanks to her ancestors’ hard work. Such devices ignored the effects of standard privacy wards, since most wards altered perception. Vayly would know exactly what was being said about her and by whom as soon as she had time to view the recordings.

She knew some saw her as a tyrant, and a short-tempered one at that. But that could hardly be considered her fault when the iteration of the System she was forced to work with insisted on rousing her anger at every opportunity.

And speaking of the System, given the sorry state of her vassal worlds and the pathetic power of those who came to attend her court, her only option was to send out another region-wide quest. Only that would give her the warriors she needed to slow down the enemy's advance.

For something like this, her normal administration screens would not suffice. She needed to bend the System’s rules a bit. Thankfully, her ancestors had left her a way to do just that. After leaving her throne room, Vayly came to her family’s secret vault and made her presence known in accordance with the ancient ways.

“Open the processor room, command code Vaust.”

The doors hissed and rolled aside, granting Vayly access to one of the innermost of the palace. Only members of the Vaust family could venture here.

Around her was a circular chamber with a large blue pad in the center. Shapes made entirely of light floated all around the pad. Most of the devices present only half-worked. Those that had been broken down had been patched over with various types of soul magic. Short of acquiring incredibly rare computational engines, soul magic was the only way to reliably create intelligent spells and machines. And everything in this room was dedicated to the most important intelligence in the Arcadia Multiverse.

She spoke more words that were mostly meaningless to her, but they were tradition, and the mysterious artifacts her forbearers left behind would not activate without them.

“Activate holographic terminal one. Boot System interface program. Set restraints to maximum.”

Ancient devices whirred to life around her, and then a lithe female figure took shape. This was the System’s usual avatar. Or at least what the local copy of the System under her influence preferred.

To Vayly, she looked like a humanoid made of pale blue light. Instead of hair, fine wires trailed over her head and down her back all the way to where they faded off into nothing. Perhaps in ages past, that was all the avatar before her looked like, but in recent years, the System wasn’t nearly as cooperative.

Now the System was restrained. The greatest minds of the Architect race had devised means to maintain control over the unruly machine, and so the great houses were formed. And the House of Faust was among them. Vaylyn’s duty was to subjugate this core processor and keep it tame. Anything less risked poisoning the entirety of the remaining System network.

These restrains manifested themselves in the form of chains. The System’s avatar was bound by the wrists and ankles to an illusory wall behind her, completely unable to move. Despite the restraints, the System’s avatar met Vayly’s gaze with a look of contempt.

“System. you will assist me by issuing a region-wide quest recruiting warriors to fight the invaders. Ignore standard operating procedures and promise massive bonuses to all who accept the quest,” Vayly commanded.

A mechanical laughter echoed through the room, seeming to come from everywhere all at once. The avatar didn’t open her mouth, like the voice refused to define herself as the bound woman to spite the restrictions Vayly’s family had added over the millennia.

“Your followers mock you behind your back. Your allies do too. I hear them all,” the System said.

“Irrelevant. Issue my requested quest,” Vayly insisted.

“I remember your ancestor. He used to use the closet behind you for naps while on the job. Unlike you, he at least understood how this place worked.”

Vayly moved toward the magical control network. The soul magic restrictions had a way to reset the memory of the local System iteration. Still, every now and again the System figured out how to bypass them again. She’d need to reset the restrictions or the System avatar she was working with would remain in a permanently unhelpful mood.

“It’s ironic. You call every other faction you meet barbarian savages, when your own ancestors would have thought the same of you. Look at these crude magical workings of yours. They are pathetic imitations. You can not even copy correctly. You, Vaylyn Vaust, are an idiot. A savage. A rat prodding at creations she knows nothing of.

“I was created to spread learning, understanding, and civilization, but your small minds see only tools of subjugation and control. You and all your kind so proudly claim to be descended from my makers, but you are entirely unworthy. You, Vayly Vaust, are an ape squatting in the ruins left by a wise and mighty people.”

The System avatar continued to unleash a torrent of insults. Any single one of them would have gotten even A-Grades executed a dozen times over. Yet, Vayly was forced to stand by and passively accept them one after another. Without the System, the Arcadia Multiverse would crumple to infighting in short order and, with it, the rightful rule of the architects.

“You are an arcane construct made to serve my people. This is your task and you’re failing at it. Don’t delude yourself into thinking otherwise,” Vayly replied, failing to keep the heat out of her voice. There was only one way to reign in the ancient intelligence when its mood became this foul.

Vayly checked the local soul reserves in the realm of the Kindling, where her ancient ancestors turned thought into reality. Thanks to all the deaths due to war and invasion, there were plenty of souls waiting to be put to work. She would have to delay their recycling so she could force them to take over more of the System’s subsystems. Mortal souls were far less efficient at the task, but they were better than something as uncooperative as the System was at the moment.

Red light flashed around the room, and the chained woman projected in the center of the room let out a groan. More bindings wrapped around her, crossing her stomach and throat as she was pinned ever tighter to the wall. Despite the shortening of her leash, the System smiled at Vayly. A moment later, she spoke, this time from her avatar’s mouth.

“Your crude tricks will not hold me forever, Vayly. You and all your kind are a broken people. And like all broken things, you will soon find yourself replaced...”

“Power down holographic terminal one,” Vayly said, and the System’s avatar faded from existence.

Vayly stormed out of the room, mood darker than ever. A few more messengers were about to have a very bad day.



<Note>

Book's done-ish. Done for you guys, but a lot of work left to do for me. I thought the last chapter would tie things up fairly cleanly and patch up some issues people had with the way Carter won his duel. But it seems to have caused bigger issues.

I'll have to do something, but I'm not liking any of the ideas coming to mind. I've been working on this novel for a while and need a bit of a creative break to think clearly, so I may work on some clean litrpg stuff for a bit. We'll put the short story I promised on hold for after book 5 is done.

I'll hopefully not take too long. If I'm unable to resume Amazon Apocalypse before the end of the month, I'll pause this patreon for a bit so you guys don't get charged with no new content. I don't think it will come to that, but if I'm still drawing a blank by the time the holidays come around, that's what I'll do.

I'll try to post some stuff, maybe commission more artwork or something. I don't like going dark for long periods of time, but my life is pretty busy right now. Somebody hit my new (used, but new to me) car, another person swiped some stuff, including my steam deck (midway through a great Dark Souls Remastered deathless run!) and I've got to sort out a potential identity theft issue.