ALL NOVEL CHAPTER 75 : Atlas is Not OP
John, Isabella, Wilfredo, and Wang Bo gathered near the dim firelight, their faces reflecting exhaustion and disbelief.
John broke the silence, "You know, I thought it was all a joke. I mean, when Atlas said we were getting portaled, I figured it was just a stunt. Didn’t think we’d actually end up here, fighting demon dogs and all." He shuddered, looking at the stump of his arm.
Isabella shook her head, rubbing her bandaged shoulder. "Yeah, same here. I thought Atlas was just messing around, trying to give us a scare. I had this mental ‘ATLAS IS CRAZY‘ file that I just put it all away in, and I didn't expect this level of reality."
Wilfredo, who was busy checking his gear, added, "I heard about stuff like this before, but you never really believe it until you’re in it. I trusted Atlas, though. If he says we’re into a wasteland apocalypse, I just thought maybe it’d be more like... well, a game."
Wang Bo sighed, leaning against a rock. "Yeah, I trusted him too. Tonight was a wake-up call. I mean, seeing Hank almost bleed out, and the med kit missing—things just got real in a way I didn’t anticipate."
John glanced around, nodding in agreement. "It’s been rough. I’m still backing Atlas. He’s done good by us, but tonight’s been a grim reminder that this isn’t a game. This is real, and we’re deep in it."
The group was weary, their faces pale from the exertion of battle. The newcomers, still catching their breath, whispered among themselves, their words carrying the weight of fear and uncertainty.
"Is this going to be every night?" one of them murmured, his voice trembling.
"I can’t survive like this," another whispered.
"Don’t worry, Atlas will take care of us," Amber reassured them, though her own eyes betrayed a flicker of doubt.
Isabella gave a small, determined smile. "We’ll get through this. Atlas might have messed up tonight, but he’s also the one leading us out. We stick together, we’ll make it."
Wilfredo nodded. "Right. Just need to keep our heads clear and focus on surviving. We’re in this together, no matter how crazy it gets."
The task of disassembling the demon dog was gruesome, and the exhaustion weighed heavily on everyone. Amber could hear the muttering of the newcomers growing louder.
"Why are we even butchering this demon dog?" one of them asked, his voice tinged with disgust.
The smell was overpowering, and the sight of the creature’s remains was enough to churn even the strongest stomachs. Noi, a sexy Asian woman, wrinkled her nose in distaste.
"I’m not eating this," she said flatly.
"Yeah, I’m definitely not either," Titus chimed in, standing there in his tighty whities, now smeared with blood.
"Do you think we could get some clothes?" Noi asked, eyeing the few coins scattered around the area.
"Yeah, we saw the demon dog dropping coins, and mama said always pick up money," Titus added, glancing at Amber.
"I don’t know," Amber replied, thinking it over. "I could ask Atlas."
The thought of approaching Atlas made Amber’s heart skip a beat. The show had portrayed a character that was named after her, which had made her swoon in delight when she had seen the TV Amber hook up with TV Atlas. Reality was turning out to be much harsher, but still, the connection to the show gave her a strange sense of comfort.
Atlas walked over to her and said to the bloodied newcomers. “Here, use this to start preparing the leather.”
QuickcureLeather tanning solution (5 coins): ‘Our state of the art tanning solution is your perfect wasteland tool. Not just piss and brains. We promise.
Enough in each kit enough for 3 medium sized carcasses .
“You can chuck the carcass away after, we aren’t eating it.”
"It’s strange that the show is so similar to what we are facing," Noi said, her brow furrowed in thought.
"Yeah," Titus agreed, "I mean, it’s also different though. The Portal Crushers were in it. But lots of things are different, like I wasn’t in the show, but another guy in underwear was."
Atlas couldn’t help but smile at the memory of the show. The show that Atlas had written was a mix of his notes from the first time through for the backstory and his wish fulfilment of what would happen this time around. That’s why he could depict Clark being a weasel and still have the newly formed Portal Crushers in it. The purpose of the show was to prepare the people of Earth for the portals, but he also needed the new team in it to mentally train them for the actions they’d be facing.
Atlas walked in at this point, nodding in understanding. "Yeah, it’s rough. It’s not just some game where you respawn and everything's fine."
He stared at the badly injured Hank, his fists clenched at his sides. The sight of his teammate lying there, barely holding on, filled him with a deep, gnawing frustration.
"He’s not going to survive," Barbara said softly, her voice laced with regret.
Atlas swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure, "How long?"
Barbara glanced down at Hank. "He’s got maybe two days in this condition. If I had my equipment… I could have done more."
"It’s not your fault," Atlas replied, though the words felt hollow.
Inside, his anger simmered, directed not at Barbara but at himself. ‘I should have killed Clark when I had the chance. That’s another mistake… How can I keep making so many mistakes? Even though this is my second time through this hell?‘
He stared at Hank, feeling the weight of his failures pressing down on him. Atlas knew he had to push forward, but the frustration and self-doubt were relentless, gnawing at the edges of his resolve.
"So, what’s the goal then?" John asked.
"I mean, last time I was pretty crucial for the whole solution to survival. I fought a lot, and I could assemble teams well, but the big picture stuff, the politics and all that? Clark handled it," Atlas said with a wry smile. "I thought with you, Alexander, and Isabella, we’d make a good combo."
"Not going to do much good with fighting, unless you can fit me with a hook and a sexy pirate accent," John said, indicating his new stump. The morphine was definitely hitting him.
"Ha! You’ll be fine tomorrow."
"Sure I will." He rolled his eyes. "What’s the FINAL goal though, Atlas?" John asked again.
"Before? During my first run through it was about saving as many people as I could," Atlas said, a dry laugh escaping him. "After tonight? Not anymore. Now I just don’t want to see my friends die. To get them home. As for the rest of the world? Some are fine, but the rest? I’m sick of scumbags like Clark and Ronald. Fuck ’em. Earth would be better off without them." His thoughts turned to the missing backpacks and his anger flared as he scanned the group of frightened newbies.
He went to the settlement kiosk and found the teleportation prompt was greyed out. That meant it had been used. The biggest problem though was that it didn’t show where the last teleportation had gone, and even if he knew, the teleportation option could only be used once every 24 hours.
‘I can’t believe I didn’t kill Clark when I had the chance,‘ Atlas thought, his frustration mounting. ‘I’m losing all my OP MC cred. I apologize to every MC that I’ve ever read, or watched on tv. They weren’t ALL total idiots. They probably had a reason like mine for not instantly killing the evil assholes. Still. For the sake of looking not like a total crazed killer, I delayed killing Clark, and this will probably lead to another backstab. I just know it.‘
***
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