Berserker: A LitRPG Urban Fantasy Adventure (Apocosmos Book 1) by Dimitrios Gkirgkiris (phonics readers .txt) 📕

I grimaced, not wanting to get Louie all worked up again.

“Right, right,” he said. “You don’t want to get too involved.” He extended his hand to me. “You brought your DEM tablet, right?”

I had completely forgotten about having stored it under my leather shirt. I brought it out, worried that it might have gotten damaged during the fights, but miraculously it had no scratches at all. Leo touched the screen and when the cold electric light illuminated his face, he placed his palm flat on it.

“This should do it,” he said. “You can now use the DEM’s free crafting program. Just keep in mind that you can only craft recipes of the first and second levels.”

“Yes, I read the terms,” I agreed. “And I also have to buy the materials and sell the products on the marketplace.”

“Correct. You might also want to consider joining a merchant alliance.”

“An alliance?”

“Yes, it’s kinda like a union for merchants,” he continued. “You’re protected against monopolies by being part of one, might get better prices for materials, and some other perks.”

“For a cut, I suppose?”

“Of course,” Leo confirmed. “Nothing is ever free in the Apocosmos. But it might be good as you’re starting.”

“I think I’ll be fine by myself.”

“Well, then, suit yourself.”

We both stood up and I gulped down the remainder of my beer.

“Again,” I said as I placed my now-empty beer bottle on his kitchen counter. “Thank you for the gift.”

“Don’t mention it,” he waved his hand dismissively. “And good luck with the DEM crafting thing.”

“Louie? Let’s go, buddy!” I shouted in the general direction of the living room and turned back to face Leo again. “Thanks, man.”

“Are we going home?” Louie asked as he slowly approached us, first yawning, and then performing his two favorite yoga stretching poses.

“Yes, we are,” I replied. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“Right now?” he asked and yawned again.

“Just me, I guess. You can continue napping.”

“If you ever want to practice or gain some XP,” Leo interjected as we were waiting for the elevator, “just call me. My whole family are fighter classes. They’d be glad to help you.”

“Thanks,” I said, but was relieved when the elevator came just in time to hide how much I didn’t want this to happen. “Goodbye, man.”

“Bye, Leo!” Louie said between barks.

“Bye, guys,” we heard him say as the old concierge closed the elevator doors behind us.

“Hierethon, sir?” Louie said, looking at the old man who was escorting us down to the lobby. “I can’t see anything other than your name. What’s your class?”

“I am very sorry for his behavior,” I said earnestly to the man before turning to Louie. “You can’t just ask these things, Louie!”

“Why can’t I?”

“The man is keeping that information private for a reason.”

“It’s quite alright, Mr. Alexander,” the old man now said, completely unfazed by the fact that a corgi was engaging him in conversation. “I am a prophet, Louie.”

“So you know about things before they happen?” Louie continued.

“That is a common misconception that arose as the word ‘prophet’ seeped into the Cosmos,” the old man said. “Prophets are people who try to anticipate what the future has in store for them by means of preparation, both for themselves and those around them. We are people who care deeply about our friends and try our best to keep them protected. Much like you, I think.”

“Yes,” Louie agreed and let out a bark that echoed in the small confines of the elevator. “I will be a prophet too, so I can always protect Alex.”

I smiled at his remark, but the sentiment only lasted a second until he asked his next question.

“I can’t see your level and race either,” he continued, unperturbed by social graces, or discretion at all for that matter. “Are you not a human?”

“I’m afraid my line of work forbids me to reveal my level,” the man replied and this time I noticed a smile form on his lips as I hid my face in my palm. “However, I can tell you that I’m not human. I can take the form of a human, but I’m a seraph.”

“What’s a seraph?” Louie asked as I opened my eyes wide at what I had just heard.

“We’re a celestial race, akin to angels,” the prophet replied, just as the elevator doors opened. He waited politely for us to exit.

“That sounds amazing,” Louie said and stood still as I put him on his leash. “Can you fly?”

“That’s a story for another time, young one,” the man said, walking past us to open the large glass doorway leading out into the busy streets of Little Italy.

“No more talking when other people are around, buddy,” I said before stepping out.

Louie only barked in affirmation as we walked outside and I waved back at the old man.

It was weird walking with Louie on the streets—of course, not anywhere near to how weird it was having him talk to me, or talk to a seraph for that matter, but still. When I saw him squat into his usual position atop a small patch of grass, I felt a bit grossed out by the fact I’d still have to clean up after him, even though I automatically reached into my pocket to take out a bag.

“I think we need to talk about this little routine of ours,” I said as I wrapped the plastic bag around my hand.

“Why?” he whispered as I bent down to pick up after him. “I thought this was normal. No need to change things, right?”

“We’ll talk about it another time,” I replied and tied a knot in the small bag before disposing of it in a garbage can next to us.

Despite the change in Louie’s nature, our walk was pretty much the same. He was still the same curious corgi, relieving himself over already pissed-on spots to mark his territory, still using his puppy eyes whenever somebody walked by him with a juicy slice of pizza or a burger in hand, and still acting aggressively to dogs