“Beast waves? Perfect. This just keeps on getting better and better…" Bill shook his head and groaned. “Oh, man, I really hope it's talking about those Buffalos…" Now that his adrenaline was petering out, his many deep-seated aches and pains were rapidly shifting from a minor distraction to a legitimate worry that he was about to drop dead. Fighting monsters was the last thing he wanted to deal with. As things currently stood, it was taking every ounce of willpower that Bill could muster up just to remain upright. In reality, he was tempted to find a nice, secluded location to curl up into a ball and sob himself to sleep.

He was contemplating his looming mortality when the System decided to make another unexpected announcement.

[Personalized Quest generated]

Attain a Basic Class:

Objective: Progress your race to Level 10 by any means possible.

Difficulty: Easy.

Reward: Access to Class selection. Applicable Class choices will be determined by your personal fighting style and willingness to stand firm in the face of adversity. Powerful subconscious desires may influence finalized class choices.

Progress: In progress (2/10)>

With eight levels worth of experience separating himself from any chance of attaining a class, Bill dismissed the notification for future Bill to worry about. Instead, he focused all of his attention to figuring out what he could do to hasten his accumulation of experience points. The main adversary to his plan: He was tired, confused, and in far more physical pain than an infected hip should've been capable of causing. And now, the tendrils of putrefaction coursing through his veins weren't even the biggest threat to his continued survival.

The previous notification cited that three separate beast waves were on the way. So, even if all those shaggy-coated behemoths he could see lumbering around the arid plains were considered the first beast wave, that still left two more to contend with. Although he couldn't say why, the more he thought about it, Bill began to have a sneaking suspicion that things weren't going to be so easy.

If these weird notifications were to be believed, this 'System' was changing reality as he knew it. Not only was it already spawning in monsters to forcefully speed up the growth of the native population, but apparently dungeons were going to start popping up too. Were the two somehow connected? Bill knew far too little to go jumping to any conclusions but couldn't ignore the possibility that these dungeons might actually be the spawn in locations for whatever manner of monstrosities the System decided to introduce. Maybe the beast waves are going to flood out of an overpopulated dungeon? If that was the case, those buffalos were probably just a natural part of the environment. Realistically speaking, a buffalo-type dungeon just sounded stupid.

Then again, for all he knew those supposed buffaloes were actually bloodthirsty monsters, and more could very well start spawning in town at this very moment. As things currently stood there was little he could do other than to close the massive gates and try to find a general store willing to loan him some antibiotics and a stockpile of bullets. Preferably before the shit hit the fan. It was going to be a long shot. His odds of locating a shopkeeper willing to provide a known outlaw with a line of credit were negligible at best. Hey, other me, Bill focused his thoughts and projected them out through the void isolating their consciousnesses. Is there a general store in Fort Alamo? Or a pharmacy or apothecary? Maybe even a doctor?

Wild Bill was slow to respond, but when he finally spoke up, much of the man's bitterness seemed to have dissipated. Perhaps killing the sheriff had been just what the doctor ordered, because he was not only being helpful, but far less insulting to boot.

Well, there's a shack called Schaffner's general store, and I'm fairly certain Schaffner's daughter's a self-proclaimed apothecary. But 'less you feel like gettin' ripped off I'd avoid it. Charge a man thirteen cents for a nickel they will… His tone grew agitated, as if he was still bitter about being taken advantage of. I ain't never heard of no far… Farm-icy or whatever, so there ain't much I can say on that.

Bill gave Nero an awkward smile and outstretched a hand to help him up to his feet while Wild Bill rambled on in the background. He did his best to ignore the sticky remnants of Jupiter that were transferred upon contact.

As to the rest, ain't no doctor worth a lick gonna be found this far out in the boonies. Odds are, folks round here'll shoot the man dead fer no better reason then to make off with his medicine bag. Think about it now, Morphine and Laudanum are bound to draw the eyes of desperate men like ourselves... Now that I think about it, chances are, Schaffner's daughter'll be able to rustle up somethin' to help us dull the pain… His voice fell silent, as if he was lost in thought.

Don't wanna kill my reflexes, but a bit of pain relief ain't such a bad idea… Tell ya what, you get us to Schaffner's and jus' leave all the barterin' to me. Wild Bill instructed. He sounded as tired as Bill felt. Ol' man Schaffner runs the place. He's dense as an oak, but I've done a fair amount of business with him in the past…

With some luck and Wild Bill's knack for talking up a storm, Bill was starting to think that a trip to the store might just be sufficient enough preparation to allow him to survive the fallout that was soon to come. Maybe. “Hopefully," he muttered sarcastically. On the plus side, he supposedly now had access to Mana. “Hey System! I probably won't be much use to you if I'm dead. So, a healing spell would really come in handy right about now….” Bill clenched his fists and begged his unseen overlord. “But while we're on the topic, a potion wouldn't hurt either."

He knew he was pointlessly barking up the wrong tree, but it helped to alleviate his growing frustration. All signs pointed to this System being primarily merit-based; Everything came with a price paid in blood and sweat. Nothing would be freely given. It was still crazy to imagine that if he put in the effort to learn, casting magic spells might actually be within the realm of possibilities. As a child he'd eagerly anticipated his admission letter to wizarding school, only for it to never arrive. Now, over a decade later, he might actually be able to master a bit of spellcraft. Provided he was willing to learn how to do so.

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Yet at the same time, without being provided with so much as a hint of how to sense Mana—let alone how he was supposed to use it to form an actual spell—there was little chance he would be magicking his infected wounds away anytime soon. If he were being honest with himself, he probably had a better chance of guessing what Nero had for breakfast by sniffing one of his farts.

The hell you mean? You some kind of a degenerate? Why you thinkin' 'bout doin' witchcraft an' sniffin' that poor man's farts for?! Wild Bill demanded, alarmed and downright disgusted. Somethin' ain't right with you boy…

“Aww come on man! I thought you said the contents of a man's thoughts were private?" Bill countered, doing his best to ignore the open-mouthed look of concern Nero was currently giving him as he openly conversed with himself. “It was a figure of speech…' he grumbled embarrassedly, “not like I was actually planning to give it a try."

As if being forced to contend with his own hardheaded alter ego and multiple waves of unknown beasts while wounded and feverish wasn't bad enough, Bill now found himself growing red around the face while simultaneously trying to come to terms with documented proof that he himself was this infamous Riftwalker character: The person somehow personally responsible for whatever the hell blew Earth's timelines out of alignment. He had no idea what a nobody like him might've done to cause such a calamitous occurrence. Nor did he know what he could've done differently. Either way, keeping this a secret was going to be a top priority from this moment forth.

Even if this System integration turned out to be only half as dangerous as Bill was expecting, it was still safe to assume that a whole lot of people were going to die in the coming days. Especially in the beginning. It's going to be rough… If word were to get out that Bill was the root cause of this whole problem, how long would it take for some confused idiot to get the bright idea that taking Bill out of the picture might solve all this split timeline nonsense? This… Fuck me man, this is going to be a serious problem.

Before he could sink too far into despair, Wild Bill kicked down the doors of his self-pity party.

Alright now, ya' good fer nothin' degenerate, that's about enough of all that bellyachin'. I'd say it's past time for you to grow a pair an' spill the beans. No point beatin' round the bush about it. You can read them floatin' pictures right? What do ya' make of all that mess? What's really goin' on? Wild Bill asked, his voice eerily subdued. Well?! Unbelievable, hauntin' my body like a damned ghost and still can't even take a hint…Yer gonna make me spell out my shame huh?

Suddenly Wild Bill was speaking in a hushed whisper. I… Dammit! I can't read…

Although informative, that was most assuredly not what Bill had been expecting. “We've got monsters coming to town for a not so friendly visit, and that's what he's all worked up about! Hah!" Unable to stop himself, Bill doubled over laughing.

Ha, ha, mighty funny. Laugh it up while you still can Mr. I damn near pissed on myself at the sight of a little bit of brains. Get serious now, somethin' you read has got you all worked up, and now your talkin' 'bout monsters and magic. Bill could practically hear him smirking.

Now, normally I'd dismiss you as a rambling lunatic and go on about my merry way, but since I'm already talkin' to the ghost of an alternate version of myself who's livin' in my body, figure I might as well humor you for a time. How 'bout you quit all that gloatin' an' get on with it! Tell me whut's goin' on around here! I thought I been hallucinatin' whatever them things are… and now… well, now I feel like I wouldn't recognize the ass end of a donkey until it kicked all my damn teeth out.

Although it was nice to laugh, his hip begged to differ. It felt like someone was jabbing a red-hot dagger into his side. Waves of searing pain radiated throughout his groin, causing his lower body to seize up in perfect timing with his chuckles. Bill knew the fun had to come to an end, but what little amusement he was able to take out of Wild Bill's obvious discomfort was a much-needed relief.

“All right, all right, you win." Bill tossed up his arms theatrically. “I'll read it to you.“ Drama queen. He looked at Nero thoughtfully, recognized that it was unlikely that he could read either, and gave him a nod. I wonder if there's some kind of language skill they can learn? I already know this is going to get annoying.

“Alright everybody, gather around." Bill said seriously, and immediately regretted it when Nero looked around warily, shrugged his shoulders and stepped so close that Bill could practically taste the coppery tang of blood wafting off his tattered clothing. He took in a deep, calming breath—through his mouth of course—and then did his best to explain just how deep of a shit-pile they had just found themselves wading through.

“First off, Nero, let me try to clear up some of the confusion. This is going to sound crazy, but I'm not exactly Wild Bill. Well, I am, but at the same time I'm not. My name is Bill Wolfe, but I'm not the Wild Bill Wolfe who owns this body. Wow, this is a bitch to explain…" He paused to let Nero absorb that information while he got his thoughts together.

A brief wave of vertigo caused the world around him to shudder. Suddenly Wild Bill was vocalizing his own side of the story. “The freeloader speaks it true Nero. I don't know where he came from, but he done showed up earlier today. There’s two of us trapped in here. It don't really make no sense to me either, but that’s whats goin’ on. Anyways, I hope you didn't eat that apple I gave ya'. There was somethin’ wrong with em’. I ate one of them sumbitches and damn near soiled myself on the ride back to camp."

A flicker of anger crossed Nero's features. It was gone nearly as fast as it appeared, but were Bill to hazard a guess, he had definitely eaten whatever apple was up for discussion. “Yes suh, Mr. Bill. I… ate the apple." He chewed his bottom lip and slumped his shoulders. Wild Bill grimaced and retreated back to the depths of his mind. I'll just let that freeloader clean up this mess for me…

Feigning ignorance, Bill got back to the topic at hand. “Now that we've cleared that up, things are about to get a lot more dangerous for all three… well, all two and a half of us. Luckily, from what I can tell from these screens," he motioned at the one hovering in front of his face, “the risk won't be without its own rewards. And there will be a lot of risks involved, I can practically guarantee you that much. But, while it's sure to suck really hard, if we put our heads together and come up with a plan, we might actually live long enough to become stronger than you can even imagine."

With multiple unallocated status points, and a System profile yet to be generated, Bill decided that was the best place to start. “All right guys, repeat after me." He looked at Nero, and when he nodded back, uttered the magic words, “Personal System Matrix."

Although Bill was fairly certain he heard both Wild Bill and Nero follow suit, it was hard to be certain seeing as a tinny, mechanical voice was suddenly speaking directly into his mind.

Fearful of a sudden attack, Bill kept a wary eye on the surroundings as the System finished generating his personal profile. Rather than sit around waiting, he used the unexpected down time to explain the gist of what he had thus far managed to learn.

He conveniently forgot to mention the whole Riftwarden fiasco. Oops.