Apocalypse Redux

Chapter 201: Buying Pets and Taking Stock

The guinea pigs ran around the cardboard boxes he’d bought them in like beings possessed. Suddenly being snatched from one’s home and stuffed in such a container to be taken to a new, entirely unfamiliar home had to be terrifying. Isaac felt bad for the pair. At least it wouldn’t be much longer.

In the middle of his apartment sat a regular old wire cage, filled with the normal wood shavings, kitted out with two small wooden houses, a grass half-tube that could be both used for cover and eaten.

A water bottle was already filled and attached to the bars, the hay trough was full and a washed cucumber lay on a plate to be tossed in the moment the guinea pigs were inside.

The first of the two furry potatoes was a beautiful smooth-haired juvenile small enough to fit in the palm of his hand, her coat a shimmering bluish grey. The second he’d put it in the cage, it had shot off like a bottle rocket, taking cover in one of the houses.

The second was just as young and small, but its blond hair was so frizzy Isaac had been tempted to ask if it had been chewing on an electric cable when he’d bought it. And it likewise took cover the second it could.

The pair would acclimate in time, but for now, it was best to leave them alone for a bit so they could calm down … except he couldn’t quite do that just yet.

Whichever person or, well, deity was responsible for designing the ritual he was about to use was a bit of an idiot. Ensuring that pets lived as long as their owners, ensuring that no one ever would have to feel the heartbreak of having a beloved animal companion die before you was a good cause.

But couldn’t a literal god have designed a method that didn’t scare the shit out of anything the process was used on?

Isaac picked up the cage and moved it over to the magic circle, adding the final thing needed.

The other objects present were a few children’s drawings of various pets, courtesy of his sisters, a homemade dog collar, several pieces of guinea pig-suitable animal feed, and two pieces of clear quartz.

“Sorry about this you two.” Isaac apologized as he fed mana into the circles and lights began to rise into the world.

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Of course, this startled the guinea pigs, and they ran around like a pair of startled rabbits, only calming down when the sparkles had touched them and all of the spooky lights had vanished.

And that was that.

Nothing visible happened, they just looked like regular old guinea pigs.

Still, now that the process was done, his sisters’ future Spirit Pets were now functionally immortal. Right now, they were bound to him, but he’d held that bond at a basic level so he could later pass the bonds over to his sisters.

They’d stay alive for them for as long as the twins lived, even through accidents and all the various other things that could cost you a pet, including diseases.

There were only three things that could cost you a Spirit Pet.

The first was deliberate cruelty. They weren’t punching bags, so if you used them for that, they’d run away, severing any bonds and finding someone in need of a little love.

The second was someone else murdering a pet using an absurdly powerful ability that managed to destroy even a nigh-immortal being. Under the law, pets tended to not enjoy very many protections so if someone wanted to hurt another person without risking too much legal trouble, guess what they went after? Of course, if someone went after pets, they deserved absolutely everything they got, no matter how horrific. Seriously, screw those people all the way to the lowest circle of hell.

And the third was the other kind of abuse, more specifically, abuse of the mechanic itself.

Whoever had made this part of the [System] knew exactly how good humans were at turning even the most harmless and/or innocent things into weapons of some manner, and didn’t want the pets to be used in such a manner.

This was very much an “if you think you’re getting away with something, you’ve already crossed the line” kind of situation. You, quite literally, couldn’t use Spirit Pets for anything like espionage, combat, mine-seeking, or anything of the sort.

They were meant to be pets, godsdamnit, what kind of psycho would use them in such a way?

At the end of the day, Spirit Pets were a shining example of what the [System] had been intended to be in the very beginning. Something helpful, without a sting in the tail, not even a single splinter to accidentally hurt yourself on. Just something wonderful.

Isaac reached into the cage, the bond he now had with the creatures letting him read that he had no dark intentions. The two little potatoes slowly, carefully came out from inside the cages. He petted them, alternating between the pair for maybe ten minutes before the call of duty tore him away. There was still so much work to do.

Up first was, obviously, the aftermath of the chaos Zambon had caused in London.

Someone had walked straight into the headquarters of the British Intelligence apparatus, smacked down some knowledge on the people within, and waltzed straight back out, despite the efforts of every single person in the damn building. That would have been bad enough even if someone hadn’t posted security footage of the whole incident online.

And no, Isaac hadn’t been responsible for that part of it. He assumed it was either a disgruntled employee or a security officer who wanted more funding.

But tweaking the nose of British intelligence hadn’t been the point of that stunt, that was merely a bonus.

Now, the whole world knew who had sent out those messages with information on the [System] and provided the first potion recipes. Who had provided the information that had led to the successful raids against the group now called Ragnarök. A person who had, until now, been cloaked in mystery.

The whole world was, of course, wrong with just about every assumption that had been made.

For example, people now thought that “Insight” was a Sherlock Holmes-like figure, someone who enjoyed mysteries and figuring out things, albeit one very much focused on saving the world, rather than a time traveler. The most popular theory right now was that he was an agent of the Illuminati or a Freemason, but that was mostly because a lot of people’s current stance was “We don’t know shit and don’t want to pick a theory”.

Then there was the fact that everyone now had the wrong idea about “Insight’s” [Skill]set. People were assuming it was some kind of bad luck/jinx kind of deal when in reality, it was all a perfectly orchestrated series of traps.

Zambon had a [Class]-based spatial storage, which didn’t require any kind of obvious motion or catalyst to access.

He also had his fourth Evolution now, a [Class] called [Beacon of Absolute Truth]. One of its [Skills] allowed him to somewhat isolate himself from the world and dangers within it as long as he didn’t attack anyone. All of the people affected had been too tough to be hurt just by slipping on something and murdering someone’s dignity apparently wasn’t regarded as an attack, so the [Skill] held, making him pretty darn slippery.

Throw in his ability to tell whenever someone was coming at him, illusion [Skills] to hide the objects the attackers were meant to slip on, and being trained in sensory [Aura]-use by Isaac and he could trip up anyone who tried to grab him.

That misconception meant that someone coming after Zambon would be going in with wrong assumptions, but also that anyone who traced anything to Isaac would be very much screwed on the preparation front.

Speaking of Isaac, he’d been very busy, getting himself an alibi by speaking at a conference in Berlin. There were plenty of body-double [Skills], but nothing with the kind of range pulling of simultaneously being in Berlin and London would have required.

End result, a bunch of very reasonably seeming yet very wrong assumptions. Patrick had once told the team a Mark Twain quote that seemed to fit the situation rather nicely:

“What gets us into trouble is not what we don’t know. It’s what we know for sure that just ain’t so.”

There was a loud rattling sound from behind him as the guinea pigs chased each other around the cage. Isaac sighed. He’d give them to his sisters in a week, on Christmas, but until then, he’d have the pleasure of their company.

Right now, he still had to work, though. People really fucking sucked, sometimes.

Rich people were seeing that people were amassing direct, personal power and how that was becoming a form of pollical influence in and of itself.

Politicians were trying to preserve their own power by attempting to shut down people’s attempts to grow in power.

Rich people were trying to power-level themselves and push back against politicians attempting to suppress leveling.

Individuals trying to tell both the upper class and political leadership to buzz off so they could personally grow in power and shoot through the Levels.

Personal power, the superpower that was being rich and political power. Three different kinds of power, each valid in its own way, each vying for control.

In the end, at the higher ends of the Level-based power scale, personal power would come out on top, no amount of power or influence could stop a man who could tear you apart with a casual flick of his finger.

But right now, power was still spread somewhat evenly between those three factions and shit was hitting the fan, hard.

Not to mention how the industry was fluctuating between stifling, utterly ludicrous levels of oversight and basically being the Wild West.

That, at least, could be fixed. In exchange for a small stipend paid by the state and local summoning companies, high Level, combat-capable people would make themselves available to clean up messes.

There were also laws being added to the books that would make it so some very painful fines would be levied at any company that needed the help.

On the political side of things, he was working on people who were reasonable, well, for politicians at least, trying to show that outright stopping people from leveling would blow up in everyone’s faces.

And as far as the industry went, all he could really do was show how well things worked with his own company.

Isaac slumped onto his desk with a deep sigh. He hated dealing with social issues, give him a problem he could punch any day of the week.