Solo Apocalypse

There were five of me now because, in the chaos of everything, I’d done my math wrong. The realization had come to me, not because of a careful re-reading of [Never Alone], but from an attempt to clone myself further.

Skill: [Never Alone]

Even working alone, it never hurts to have another set of eyes. Better yet when they’re yours. You are able to replicate yourself to a certain degree and capacity.

- Max Copies: (WIS + WIL + CHA) / 10

- Copies have halved STR, CON, DEX, and AGI.

- All other attributes are retained.

The math amounted to four copies. I’d been including my original self in that total but I wasn’t a copy. That meant there was room for another. But, the monikers had begun to confuse me. Referring to myself, internally, as First was what had led to the initial misunderstanding.

I took my original self out of the system. So that there were only the four copies—the clones. First, Second, Third, Fourth and, of course, Evahn himself—me.

I questioned something, though. “I had tried, hadn’t I? To clone myself again, before I knew the limit.”

I remembered it clearly, after creating Third, I had asked myself to do it again. I wasn’t able to. Had I really been ignorant as to not try again? All that time? Was there a limitation on the number I could create at once?

“You could’ve had an extra set of hands that entire time,” First said to me. “You could’ve saved him.”

Guilt washed over me, pushing me down. No clone of mine had anything to say to that. There was nothing but silent condemnation. I had already failed, this was just another way it had happened.

Ever since that first day, I hadn’t died again.

Somewhere along the way, that crippling fear of death became a strange acceptance. Burgeoning confidence. Courage against that inevitably. I knew what it was like so I could prepare myself.

I hadn’t died but I did see death again.

I dropped from the tree, three of me, and landed on the pair of goblins. I needed weapons. I grabbed their arms first, twisting their tools out of their grasp. Then, still overpowering despite my halved attributes, I snapped their necks.

Myselves looked at each other, breathing. The moment washed over me before I crouched down to grab their things. Knives of surprisingly decent make. Short and stubby, the handle was decent and the blade was sharp. What else could I ask for?

“There’s no turning back now, Evahn,” I spoke to myself.

It hadn’t crossed my mind I’d be hearing it too. I looked to my clone, knowing that [Never Alone] gave me the unparalleled ability to talk to myself.

“No turning back.” I agreed.

This marked me not as a killer but as a survivor. Someone willing to adapt to this reality and embrace it. I told myself that, unable to escape the wriggling whisper of morality.

I looked at the men across from me. They were me, of course, but I barely recognized them. Beaten and battered, rugged, I was scraping at life. Not in the physical sense, but the mental. The weight of it all threatened to crush me and yet somehow I was still breathing, ignoring it.

I killed three more groups of five over the course of the day. With a set of eyes acting as overwatch, three of me on the ground armed with sharp knives, and a determination to do what needed to be done, it was terribly easy. Terrible, because that’s what it felt like.

[Notice]: You have leveled up: Level 9.

Nothing accompanied the message. It felt empty. I wasn’t deserving of anything but that. This new circumstance was twisting who I was and there was nothing I could do to combat it. What part of me remained, which part twisted, and what was lost?

I couldn’t say.

I found signs of survivors on the second day of traveling. I was moving faster than them, I knew. It only made sense given my ability to coordinate information and terrain. It was the remains of a camp, a fire had been burning between crevasse of the large roots too thick and wet to catch fire themselves.

There were muddy prints on the ground I recognized as shoes. That simple sight allowed hope to blossom again. People were alive, just like me. That thought alone comforted me but I prepared for the worst.

This apocalypse had changed me, brought out the worst in me, I hesitated to think what it might do to others. It chilled me.

On the third day, I managed to hunt a bird. The meat was enough to make my tongue water but I knew nothing of what was edible or not. I ripped the organs out, started a fire, and experienced the delicacy through a clone.

Meat, I never thought I would miss it so much. My clone, identical to myself, felt no side effects. I turned to the branches above, the shore, with great interest, tracking the locations where I’d seen those birds the most. It was no wonder the reptiles ate them so vigorously.

They were delicious.

I shared the bounty with my original self the next time and it was heaven. A small luxury eaten with berries and fruit, the meal was so simple yet so perfect.

On the fourth day, I found them. A campfire, around twenty people or so, and a handful of others watching the perimeter. A lot of people had that dead look in their eyes, staring at the fire. Everyone was muddy, wet, and looked miserable.

I almost went down in person. Instead, after a moment’s hesitation, a clone went down in my place.