The Glass Warrior [Weak to Strong LitRPG]

The plundering continued for a while longer, with Lucas grabbing anything he could get his hands on and dodging attacks from both the others and the towering stone knight as he went. But soon, a restless energy began to creep in. There was still plenty of loot nearby, some of it clearly valuable, but none of it was what he really wanted. What Lucas truly sought was another fruit.

His gaze swept the chamber, skimming over glimmering piles and shattered boxes, until it passed over two large stone coffins and then stopped. Atop a raised platform, right at the foot of a lavish golden sarcophagus, rested a glowing bunch of grapes.

If the golden coffin belonged to the lord, and it certainly looked the part, then who were the other two for? Why bury them alongside him?

Doesn't matter. Grapes first, questions later, Lucas thought, bolting forward without hesitation.

Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one with that brilliant idea. The easy loot in the previous section of the chamber was running dry, and like starving wolves scenting fresh prey, the others had begun turning their greedy eyes toward the coffins and the space surrounding them.

The caped goblin was the first to reach the platform, flashing past Lucas in a blur, further proof of just how ludicrously overpowered that damn cape was. Lucas tensed, watching him zero in on the platform, worried he'd snatch the grapes before he got the chance. But to his relief, the goblin ignored the fruit entirely, heading straight for the golden coffin instead. He gripped the lid with both hands and pulled, muscles flexing with effort, but the heavy thing didn't budge an inch.

Lucas wasn't about to waste his luck. He dashed up the short flight of steps and reached for the glowing grapes with both hands, sweeping them into his spatial ring before anyone could react.

A pulse of power surged through the ring as the fruit vanished inside. The orb hummed low in response, vibrating with life, its light flaring brighter, larger, with every fruit he fed it. But before Lucas could even start looking for more, the sound of armored footsteps echoed behind him.

The elven warrior was the first to leap onto the platform, swinging his enchanted blade in a smooth arc, not quite an attack, but definitely a warning, forcing Lucas to hop back or risk losing a leg.

Before he could decide whether to challenge or retreat, the elf's mage companion appeared beside him, staff raised, its tip aglow with gathered energy.

"Try your luck elsewhere," the elf said without sparing him a glance, eyes already scanning the glittering hoard. "I'm sick of your face."

Lucas tensed, ready with a sharp reply, but before he could get a word out, the Hive leader stepped forward. He shot Lucas a cold, measured look before moving to stand beside the elf, wordlessly backing him up.

None of them looked eager for a fight, not with the stone knight still stalking the far side of the chamber, but they made it clear Lucas wasn't welcome among them.

Lucas chose to avoid conflict for the time being, still, that didn't mean he was giving up.

He began circling the platform slowly, eyes scanning for an opening, anything. But every time he drew close, someone shifted, a silent warning in their posture. The goblin even flashed a curved dagger at him without hesitation whenever he came too near.

Even Antony, who'd seemed impressed by Lucas's healing not long ago, stepped firmly between him and a silver-plated box, making his message clear without saying a word.

Lucas clenched his jaw and backed off again, his calm mask beginning to crack with irritation. But then something tugged at his attention:

They were all sweating. Profusely.

Granted, they'd been dodging the statue for a while but still, it seemed excessive. Their shoulders were rising and falling with every breath, their movements slower, less fluid. The elven warrior's enchanted sword, once light and deadly, now moved like it had real weight. Heavy weight.

They can't be that tired already, can they? Lucas wondered. Why not just pop a stamina potion?

And then it struck him: The death aura.

In all the chaos, he'd nearly forgotten how thick the air was in here. The whole tomb had reeked of death, but this chamber was absolutely saturated. Almost suffocating.

For him, it wasn't so bad, his own aura was attuned to death in a way that made it easier to function here. But the others were not so fortunate.

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As the realization settled, a new idea began to take root. He'd just upgraded his Death Aura for this very reason. Now was the perfect time to use it.

A few minutes went by like that. Whenever someone moved to confront him, they'd suddenly collapse under a ghostly, crushing pressure, rendered helpless. Lucas would slip by them and continue gathering whatever he could get his hands on, especially fruits.

"Hey, he's the one doing this! That aura—he's using it and hogging all the loot!" someone finally shouted, as Lucas grabbed another box.

It was Antony, his voice ragged as he clutched his ribs and glared at Lucas like he was some kind of death god. He had witnessed Lucas heal from fatal wounds and wield a death aura like it belonged to him.

The others, having already seen Lucas pull off a series of "impossible" feats, didn't exactly look shocked by the accusation. In fact, it didn't take long for them to put the pieces together: every time that strange, crushing pressure filled the air, Lucas was always at the center of it, untouched.

Lucas paused for half a second, weighing his options. He'd been using his aura non-stop, and every time he pushed it outward, it drained some of his health.
The skill was ridiculously powerful, a lot of it due to the natural ambience of the present environment, but it wasn't without limits. And now, as every eye in the room turned toward him, he raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Come on, guys. Can't we just be friends?" he asked, spreading his arms with an exaggeratedly innocent smile. "Share the loot, hold hands, sing a little song—"

"No." The elven mage's voice cut through the air like a sharpened blade. "We kill him now, you saw what he did in the other room, if we don't make him pay, we're the ones who'll die next."

Lucas nearly sighed. Gods, he was so sick of this guy always trying to sound like the noble voice of reason. Should've ended him when I had the chance.

The others began muttering their agreement. Even the goblin with the overpowered cape, who'd mostly spent his time zipping around and grabbing shiny things, came to a stop and turned toward Lucas, dagger spinning in his hand. Still salty about what had happened in the last room, apparently.

Lucas gave a shaky little laugh and took a step back. "Alright. No singing, then."

They charged him all at once.

He threw up a water shield just in time to absorb the first fire bolt, ducked low beneath a wide sword swing, and rolled away as two goblins attacked from opposite angles. One of their blades grazed his shoulder, sending a bolt of searing pain across his chest. He hissed and spun, trying to keep everyone in his field of vision, but there were too many, too fast and too damn close.

His aura surged to its peak, flooding the room with a choking wave of death energy. Some enemies faltered, slowed by the weight of it, but others pushed through with grim determination. Whenever he found a gap, he struck, glass blades flashing, but someone always jumped in to cover the target. And hovering near all of them, never far, was the relentless stone knight, swinging his massive sword at anyone who moved with too much confidence.

A flicker of panic sparked in his chest. If he couldn't shift the tide, his only choice would be to run and even then, he wasn't sure he'd have time to open a Glass Gate.

The orb.

His hand flew to the ring at his side, desperate hope surging through him like a drowning man spotting the shore. Maybe the fruits had been enough. Maybe the buildup of energy had finally reached the threshold. Maybe, just maybe, it would reveal a weapon, a spell, something to save him.

He focused. Opened the ring's space with a thought. And froze.

It was gone.

The orb.

Gone.

There was nothing in its place. Not a shimmer of energy, not a trace of the pulsing hum that had once filled the pocket dimension. No glow. No power. Just... silence. Emptiness.

"What—?" Lucas murmured, voice raw with disbelief. "What?!"

"Hahaha, accepting your death already, human?" the elven mage mocked, unleashing another spell that forced Lucas to dive to the side. A sword sliced the air just above his head as he rolled behind a shattered crate.

I fed that damn thing everything I had and now it just disappears?!

He peeked out, a mix of fury and panic clawing at his ribs. That had been it. His trump card. He'd pushed things too far, provoked too many people and now it was coming back to bite him. There was no way he could win this fight on his own.

And then—he heard it.

A scream. Loud. Furious.

"MY RING!"

The voice was unmistakable, it was the Hive's leader. Lucas whipped his head around and saw the man standing near the altar.

Clearly during the chase, the man had decided he could use this distraction to hoard some treasures for himself and was now frozen in shock, one arm still outstretched toward a golden ring that had just... vanished.

But it hadn't disappeared.

Not really.

Something had taken it.

Lucas blinked, focused and saw it.

A small figure darting near the altar. It had leapt, possibly from the Hive leader's shoulder or head, and landed atop the platform, clutching the stolen ring in its tiny hands like a prized gem, entirely unbothered by the chaos unfolding around it.

"What was that?!" someone shouted.

"There... on the altar!"

Lucas narrowed his eyes, trying to get a better look. In the whirlwind of motion, he finally caught a clear glimpse of the creature, it was a hunched, jittery little thing.

Its fur was filthy and clumped in patches, with strips of skin peeling away to reveal glimpses of bone beneath. Its face was half-rotten, the flesh on one side sagging and raw, exposing the sharp curve of its jaw and part of the cheekbone. Where the skin had vanished entirely, jagged teeth jutted from a dry, permanent skull-grin, giving it a grotesque, lopsided smile that never faded.

Lucas used Identify as fast as he could.

Undead Monkey — Lvl ?

"What," Lucas whispered. "The hell?"

Everyone had stopped fighting. Even the elven warrior had lowered his sword, face twisted in confusion.

The monkey stood atop the altar, bony fingers clutching the stolen ring. Slowly, its skull-tilted head turned toward Lucas, as if it knew he was watching.

And then... it fully grinned.

Naturally, all eyes swung back to Lucas, this time with even more fury and disbelief.

Oh, shit.