Apocalypse Architect: A Tower Defense LitRPG

Chapter 69: The Tier 3 Acid-Web Arachnid

Early Sunday morning, under a sky heavy with gray clouds, Silas finished a meager breakfast of ration bars and adjusted his pack. It was time for his rotation back to The Sprawl. He gave a grim nod of farewell to the group and set off toward the wasteland.

The others didn’t join him. The fortress was critically understaffed, and with the threat of the Black Rain looming, the difficulty of defending the valley was spiking.

In the early days, Jax could leave a Defense Tower on auto-pilot. Sandworms were essentially passive livestock—if you didn’t poke them, they didn’t poke back. But the ecosystem had changed. The Rodent-Maw Creepers were aggressive predators that hunted by scent. If they caught a whiff of human pheromones, they would swarm the base regardless of whether a human was visible or not. Leaving the outpost unmanned now wasn’t just negligent; it was a death sentence for their infrastructure.

The remaining team threw themselves into their work, though the loss of a miner meant their resource output was cut in half.

By noon, the heavy rumble of a diesel engine echoed off the canyon walls. The transport truck from Outpost 15 had arrived.

To keep the location of their secret base secure, Jax, Kaleb, and Barnaby had spent the morning hauling the mountain of carcasses to the mouth of the valley. It was back-breaking work, but necessary.

The heavy-duty transport truck groaned as it ground to a halt, its tires sinking into the mud and leaving deep, jagged ruts in the earth. The driver hopped out, lighting a cigarette, but the smoke caught in his throat when he saw who was waiting for him.

He froze, staring at Jax.

“You…” The driver’s eyes widened, his cigarette trembling. “You’re that wanted criminal. I heard you were dead.”

Kaleb stepped forward, his hand drifting to the hilt of his machete. “Watch your mouth. Our Boss is alive and kicking. Don’t go spreading rumors.”

The driver flinched, quickly stammering out an apology. He couldn’t help but steal nervous glances at Jax. Jax just stared back with a faint, polite smile—a predator looking at a rabbit. It sent a chill straight down the driver’s spine.

“Enough chatter,” Jax said, his tone smooth but commanding. “Let’s see how much this pile of meat and hide is worth. Wholesale prices. We’re clearing inventory.”

The driver nodded, pulling out a scanner. But when he looked past Jax and saw the sheer scale of the stockpile, his jaw dropped.

“This… you guys killed all of this?”

Jax nodded, dusting off his sleeve. “That’s right. About three thousand Sandworms. Two thousand Rodent-Maw Creepers. Give or take.”

He rattled off the numbers as if reading a grocery list, his voice light and unconcerned. To the driver, however, it sounded like a billionaire casually discussing the change found in his sofa cushions. The mix of envy and shock on the driver’s face was palpable.

The driver walked into the hollow where the corpses were stacked. A wall of stench—ozone, rot, and sulfur—slammed into him. He was a veteran of the corpse trade, used to the smell, but the sheer volume here was staggering. The hollow was packed to the brim.

It took until evening to load everything. The driver had to radio for two additional backup trucks just to haul the haul away.

As the convoy prepared to leave, the lead driver wiped grease from his forehead, looking at the loaded trucks with a mix of excitement and calculation.

“Listen,” he said, turning to Jax. “With this volume, you’re going to crash the local market. The price of Sandworm meat in The Sprawl is going to tank. I can’t give you the standard rate.”

Gareth, who had been hovering nearby like a hawk, bristled immediately. He was a miser at heart, and the mention of a price cut was like a physical blow.

“What do you mean?” Gareth snapped. “We just busted our backs loading your trucks, and now you want to squeeze us?”

The driver held up his hands defensively. “Relax, friend. It’s simple economics. The Black Rain has stirred up the nests. Everyone is hunting right now. The city is flooded with cheap meat, and you know this stuff spoils fast. The commoners can’t afford premium prices.”

Jax nodded slowly. The logic held up. He had noticed the increased spawn rates himself—nightly waves had jumped from a hundred to nearly five hundred in some cases. The Black Rain was accelerating the ecosystem’s aggression.

“Fine,” Jax said, cutting off Gareth’s protest. “Adjust the price on the meat. But the Rodent-Maw Creeper hides? Those don’t rot. Full price for those.”

The driver breathed a sigh of relief. “Deal. Fifty thousand for the hides. The Sandworm meat… I can do two hundred thousand. That’s the best I can do.”

Gareth let out a pained sigh, looking at the corpses as if he were losing his own children, but he stayed silent.

“Cash or Cores?” the driver asked, pulling out an old, battered calculator.

“Cash,” Jax said instantly. “Two hundred and fifty thousand. Can you cover that?”

“I came prepared,” the driver grinned. “I heard you guys were a major supplier, but I didn’t expect this much. Lucky for you, I brought the heavy bag.”

He went to his cab and returned with a bulging canvas sack. He slapped five thick stacks of bills onto a flat rock.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

Five stacks. Fifty thousand Credits each.

Gareth and Kaleb stared at the money, mesmerized. In their world, ten thousand was a fortune. Two hundred and fifty thousand was a fantasy. The visual impact of the neatly stacked bills was intoxicating.

The driver tipped his cap and climbed back into his truck. As the convoy rumbled away into the twilight, silence descended on the group.

Jax looked at his crew, seeing the hunger in their eyes. He chuckled.

“Alright, listen up. There are six of us in the crew. I’m not taking a cut from this haul. I’ll hold Barnaby’s share and Silas’s share for safekeeping. The rest is yours.”

He gestured to the rock. “Fifty thousand each.”

The group froze. They looked at Jax, waiting for the punchline. He wasn’t taking a credit?

“Are… are you serious?” Gareth stammered, reaching out a trembling hand. “I can really take this?”

“Take it,” Jax laughed. “Save it up. Maybe you can buy yourself a wife in the city.”

Gareth snatched a stack, clutching it to his chest.

Kaleb moved next, grabbing two stacks—one for himself, one for his sister. Annie tried to wave it away, looking terrified by the amount of wealth in her brother’s hands.

“It’s too much,” she whispered. “I don’t feel safe holding that. Brother, you keep it.”

Kaleb nodded, stuffing the cash into his deep pockets. He turned to Jax, his eyes shining with gratitude. “Thanks, Boss. Seriously.”

The atmosphere was electric. For these survivors, who had spent their lives scraping by in the slums, afraid to take risks because hunting without a Defense Tower was synonymous with suicide, this was life-changing money.

Night fell over the valley. The campfire crackled, casting long, dancing shadows against the canyon walls. The team sat around the fire, counting their bills over and over, the crisp sound of currency filling the air.

Jax watched them, feeling a sense of satisfaction. But that satisfaction was shattered a moment later.

A sharp, mechanical chime rang in his mind.

[System Mission Alert]

Target: Eliminate Tier 3 Acid-Web Arachnid.

Reward: Blueprint – [Tar Pit Trap] x1.

Failure Penalty: Architect Level -1.

Jax stiffened.

The mission had triggered early. The monster wasn’t here yet, but the system was warning him. It was coming.

He looked at the happy faces around the fire. He hated to ruin the mood, but survival came first.

“Clear the decks,” Jax said, his voice cutting through the laughter like a knife. “Pack the money away. We have a mission.”

The group looked up, still high on adrenaline and wealth. They didn’t sense the danger. To them, hunting was easy now—just sit behind the towers and collect Cores.

“Boss, what is it?” Kaleb asked, grinning as he patted his bulging pocket. “Another swarm? We’ll crush ’em. Easy money.”

Jax’s expression was grim. “No. Not a swarm.”

He stood up, looking into the darkness beyond the firelight.

“A Tier 3 Acid-Web Arachnid is incoming.”

Plap.

The stack of cash in Gareth’s hand slipped through his fingers and hit the mud.

“T-Tier 3?” Gareth whispered, his face draining of color. “Did I hear that right?”