Tower of Avarice: A LitRPG story

The young man sprinted across the ruined city street. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his body ached in a dozen places. His coat was torn to shred, and his boots were caked in dirt and blood. The magical rifle in his hands hummed with power; its intricate engravings pulsed with a faint blue glow.

Gritting his teeth, Greg raised the rifle to his shoulder and fired.

A lance of searing energy tore its way out of the weapon's barrel, and a deafening crack split the air. It sounded like the sky itself was being violently torn open. The force of the discharge rattled the bones in his body and sent shockwaves rippling through the broken street. The blast distorted the air around it, making the space shimmer and writhe like a heat mirage.

The light was blinding; it was a searing white-hot beam of mana that erupted from the barrel with a radiance so intense that it carved afterimages into his retinas. He saw ghostly streaks of blue and violet that lingered even when he squeezed his eyes shut.

Energy lanced through the first abomination in an instant, and its monstrous form disintegrated, burning away to nothing until not even ashes remained. But the beam didn't stop there; it punched through the creature, through the ruined building behind it and carved a molten scar into the shattered city before finally fading.

The rifle hummed in his hands, and the runes along its length dimmed as the mana inside his body couldn't keep up with the strain of its consumption. He exhaled shakily, blinking against the images burned into his vision.

Turning away, Greg stumbled over the nearby debris, barely keeping his balance. His left arm was bleeding, and each step sent a jarring pain through his body. Another monstrosity leapt out from the shadows, and Greg fell to the ground in an attempt to avoid its attack.

A clawed hand raked across his shoulder, sending him tumbling across the parched earth and kicking up dust. Pain flared, and he barely had time to continue his roll before a grotesque maw slammed into the ground where his head had been. He gasped and swung the rifle up, jamming the barrel beneath the creature's jaw and pulling the trigger.

A blinding shot exploded from the weapon, reducing the monster's head to burning fragments. The body twitched a few times before falling still.

Climbing to his feet, his knees threatening to buckle and his body screaming for rest, Greg wearily scanned the vicinity for more dangers.

He had been on this Floor for months in an attempt to stop the unending tide of monsters that were coming through a gateway. He hadn't been alone; even now, there were other people from the Tower struggling in this wasteland.

But it seemed no matter how many people the Tower threw at this Floor or how powerful they were, they were destined to lose.

The abominations were twisted perversions of life. Their forms were a nightmarish fusion of bone, sinew and writhing, unnatural flesh. Some loomed tall on skeletal, too-long limbs, their spins jagged like barbed wire, and their faces stretched into gaping orifices filled with teeth.

Others slithered on bloated, pus-filled bodies with flesh that split and reformed as if they had no true shape at all. Their eyes were hollow pits of darkness, and their movements were erratic and unpredictable.

But all of them had something in common: they made sounds that set Greg's nerves on fire. Wet, clicking noised like shattered bones grinding together, growls that vibrated in their chest and shrill shrieks that could cause ears to bleed.

Greg reached into his inventory and pulled out several potions in various colours. Healing and stamina potions were a necessity here, but there were also those that prevented disease and poisoning. Popping the cork off one of the smaller vials, he splashed the bright orange contents onto his wound and winced as it burned away the corruption already eating away from him.

The monstrosity's claws carried the worst of their poisons, and leaving it unattended for more than a few minutes would be fatal.

As soon as Greg tossed away the last small glass container, a howl erupted from the ruins of the buildings near him. Quickly picking up his rifle, the young man from Vermont stumbled away while the abominations that were destroying this world gave chase.

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Floor 67 – A World on the Brink of Destruction.

What began as a single crack in the sky has progressed to a wound in reality that bleeds darkness and madness into the land. Grotesque figures have emerged in untold numbers, and the land is nothing more than a graveyard of civilization.

In this sprawling ruin, survivors are few and far between. But there is still hope. Several have gathered together in a final assault on the rift. Assist them and recruit another member to your party.

Mathew and Alivia emerged from the elevator into a world devastated by monsters. The sky was filled with smoke, and the sound of screaming and battle was nearly constant. The sun barely broke through the cover of clouds, leaving everything below dim.

They had arrived on a cliff overlooking the ruins of a city, and a conflict was already in progress.

The battlefield below was a maelstrom of fire and sorcery. Plasma bolts and streaks of arcane energy illuminated the cloudy sky as soldiers in magically enhanced armour clashed with towering abominations.

Warriors wielding enchanted swords danced between the chaos, their weapons slicing through everything around them. Mages wove barriers of shimmering light to hold back the tide, and mechanized war machines thundered forward, their cannons roaring as they reduced their enemies to ash.

And in the center of it all, hovering above the ground, was the rift.

It was a wound in reality, a vast chasm of darkness that pulsed with energy. Its edges shimmered with light, and from its depths, monsters emerged in an unending tide.

"Nice place you've brought me to, Larson." Alivia commented dryly. She had her deck of cards gripped in her hand, and her eyes scanned the ground below warily. Mathew shrugged in response.

"The Tower thinks we need more people to add to our party for the upcoming Floors, and it believes we'll find who we're looking for down there." Mathew replied. He could feel the Aether swirling violently around the rift, drawing the energy toward it.

It wasn't surprising that the Tower wanted the Rift sealed if it was stealing all of this Floor's Aether.

"Where do we start?" Alivia asked, not seeing a way to get near the Rift, let alone close it.

While they were talking, a blinding streak of light shot across the battlefield and cut through dozens of monsters. The deafening crack of its eruption reached the pair after a few seconds, along with a gust of wind that stirred up dust and debris around them.

"There." Mathew said, pointing toward the source of the energy.

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They were losing.

It was obvious to Greg as soon as they launched their assault. But it wasn't as if they had any choice. Their options were to sit and wait to die or throw everything they had at the rift and hope they could achieve a miracle.

Greg's magical rifle trembled in his hands; the intricate runes along its barrel pulsed erratically, flickering between brilliance and failure. The weapon radiated blistering heat, warping the air around it. Wisps of steam and mist hissed from the small vents along its frame in an attempt to keep its magical core from overheating.

He estimated he had two shots left, maybe three before the weapon either failed to fire or exploded in his hands.

Not that it mattered. He could barely scrape together the mana necessary to fire it, and he didn't think he would survive to get another shot off.

Hundreds of the monsters were approaching him, and, as if he didn't already know he was screwed, the Buzz was hammering his head so hard that he could barely keep his eyes open against the pain.

He watched as another person fell under the claws and fangs of the monsters, their body almost instantly torn apart and devoured.

Wearily, he lowered the rifle in his hands and accepted his fate.

A storm of magical explosions erupted across the battlefield, each detonation a blinding burst of arcane fury. Brilliant spheres of blue and violet energy slammed into the monstrous horde, detonating with booms that sent shockwaves rippling through the air.

The force tore through their twisted flesh, dismembering some creatures while others were engulfed in searing flames that burned with unnatural intensity.

Amidst the chaos and ruin, Greg's eyes locked onto a figure standing untouched by the carnage. It was a young woman, her dark hair cascaded down in loose waves and framing a face that was fierce and gorgeous. She held a deck of cards in her hands, and each time she drew one, monsters would be consumed by fire and death.

She was the most beautiful woman Greg had ever seen in his life.

With the monsters temporarily driven back, the young woman approached Greg and smiled.

"Are you alright? You looked like you could use a hand." She said. Still stunned, Greg took a moment to respond. When he finally regained enough sense to speak, he was interrupted.

The ground trembled as massive pillars of fire suddenly erupted around the Rift, their flames twisting into towering columns of bright orange and crimson. The roar of the flames filled the air with crackling energy.

The rift shuddered as a shockwave of heat and destruction force radiated out. It lasted a few moments before it was sealed.

Shocked, Greg looked at the fading rift with awe as he felt that he had just witnessed a miracle. The young woman gave a small 'harrumph' as she also watched before shaking her head in amusement at the spectacle.

"There goes Mathew Larson, showing off." Alivia commented.

"Mathew?" Greg asked, wondering if it was the same person he had met so often in the Tower. He barely registered the loud 'ding' that announced their completion of the Floor.

It turned out that it was.