Tower of Avarice: A LitRPG story

The Apostle to the God of Games had returned, standing on the grand platform that hovered in front of the remaining few masked humans. His yellow cloak, pristine and perfect, billowed out behind him from a small breeze that seemed to have been conjured just for that purpose.

The landscape behind him was marked by merciless storms, scorching heat and devastating frost. Some of the contenders had endured the fight against nature, but many more had succumbed to either the challenge or the masks they wore.

"You have conquered the storm." The Apostle declared, his voice ringing out so that all the assembled challengers could hear him.

"You have braved the wrath of the world itself. You survived winds that sought to tear the flesh from your bones, flames that would have left only ashes behind and ice that would have encased you for eternity, forming your tomb."

"And yet, here you all remain. Scarred and weary but still standing." The Apostle's eyes swept across them, filled with amusement. He was clearly enjoying the show, revelling in their hardships.

"However, now the true battle begins. Your greatest foe has yet to come! It waits for you, just beyond the veil of ignorance. It knows your every weakness, your every fear. It is a reflection unshackled by worry or doubt. It is a version of yourself that has embraced the mask you wear, drinking deep upon its power!"

The Apostle said solemnly while placing his hand on his heart and bowing deeply to the assembled crowd. He then stood upright, smiled widely, and gestured grandly behind him.

A giant mirror rose from the ground made of polished black material that reflected back the image of the Apostle and the masked challengers. Oddly, while everything was dark and muted in the mirror, each of their masks shone brightly with white light.

"Fight yourselves, and if you fall, your reflection will take your place. I doubt anyone in the world will know the difference." He stated, giving them a wink before disappearing into a flash of white light that left motes of glittering energy behind.

Greg stared at his reflection, and he couldn't help but feel a certain amount of dread. The figure in the mirror was staring back at him with anticipation. It was unnerving, especially when he saw it had an expression of clear and undisguised hunger.

"The Apostle is right. They know us." Greg whispered, more to himself than his companions.

Alivia, standing beside him with her arms crossed, frowned at the statement.

"They aren't just a reflection; they're us. Twisted and meaner, but still us."

Mathew let out a breath and ran his fingers through his hair. He could feel the excitement emanating from the mask on his face. The presence within was nearly giddy and the prospect of its host being replaced.

"This is as much a test of our willpower as it is a fight. We need to overpower them by using the masks but retain who we are." Mathew replied.

"Yes, but they get to go all out without a care in the world." Alivia responded, nodding her head toward the mirror where her own doppelganger was smiling eerily at her.

"We'll have to walk a pretty thin line. Draw enough power from the mask to defeat them, but not so much as to overwhelm ourselves." Greg stated as the mirror rippled like water and the reflections stepped forward, crossing into the real world.

Page Break

Mathew barely had time to react before his doppelganger lunged at him. It moved with a relentless fluidity that was a perfect mirror to his own speed. He threw himself backwards just in time to avoid a sharp jab aimed at his throat.

His reflection was already pivoting and adapting; the next strike slammed into his ribs and knocked the air from his lungs.

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Mathew staggered while his instincts screamed at him to counterattack, to push back just as hard, but something held him back. The presence was waiting, like a dark shadow on the edge of sight. Fighting intensely, taking damage and pushing himself would just give it more power.

He needed to be smarter, not stronger, than his opponent.

"Hesitating? Are you afraid to hit yourself?" It taunted in a voice that was identical to his own but laced with derision and contempt.

Mathew didn't answer as he ducked and sidestepped an elbow that was aimed at his jaw. His mind raced as he tried to think of a strategy, something that could defeat his doppelganger. Something it wouldn't see coming.

It was him, down to the last muscle and reflex. Every punch he threw was met with a block, and every feint was countered by a dodge. But it wasn't exactly the same as him. It never tired; it never hesitated for a moment.

It was completely sure of itself. It had supreme confidence in the abilities it drew on its mask. Unlike Mathew, it wasn't afraid of that power; it embraced it without concern for being overwhelmed by the presence within.

"Face it. We're the same!" The copy said with a smirk. It slapped away one of Mathew's punches and struck him in the face, knocking him back.

"Maybe not entirely the same." The doppelganger mocked as Mathew rolled across the ground to absorb the blow.

"Face it. I'm the perfect version of you. One that never hesitates and never questions yourself. Ruthless, efficient and free of doubt. No burdens, no connections to that past that you cling to so much. Look how much better you would be if you forgot all about where you came from! Nothing should exist in our mind but the hunger for victory!" The doppelganger shouted.

No memories.

Mathew stood upright and wiped away the blood from his lips. He couldn't argue with the fact that this mirror version was stronger and faster than him. It didn't have to worry about the mask it wore; it could draw on power without fear of becoming corrupted.

But it hadn't experienced all the things that he had. It hadn't suffered like Mathew had through all of those Floors. It hadn't nearly died more times than he could count. It hadn't lived through wounds that would leave anyone else crippled.

It hadn't earned the title of 'Enduring.'

The next time the double attacked, Mathew didn't dodge. Instead, he stepped into the hit, letting his doppelganger's fist hit him in the side, breaking his ribs. Mathew rolled with the impact, and his double, expecting him to block or counter, was thrown off balance for a moment.

Shifting his weight, Mathew grabbed his double's arm and threw him crashing onto the ground. He locked his arms around the double's shoulders, pinning its waist with his legs as they rolled around on the dirt.

There was no magic, no fancy moves that split the sky open. Just brutal combat.

The doppelganger struck Mathew in his damaged ribs again, hard enough to send a jolt of agony through his side. Another punch hit him in the jaw, snapping his head back. He swung back, hammering his fist into the mask on his double's face.

His reflection didn't even flinch, and he answered the attack with another punch to Mathew's ribs. They thrashed on the ground, their bodies locked in struggle. Mathew continued to hit the opponent's mask while his double sent a fist to his ribs, an elbow to his temple, and a knee into his thigh.

Mathew was panting for air; his muscles burned, but his double seemed to feel nothing. It didn't gasp from breath, and it didn't slow down.

Mathew roared and forced his weight down harder. He drove his knee into the doppelganger's chest and pushed him deeper into the dirt. This wasn't a battle of skill or power; it became about endurance. Who could inflict the most pain, and who could survive it.

"You can't outlast me! I am you!" It growled, and it began to claw at his face and arms. Seeing that it was becoming desperate, Mathew struck it in the mask again. The Doppelganger let out a final scream as its mask shattered into pieces.

There was a sudden burst of light, and it was gone.

Mathew collapsed onto his back, his chest heaving. His entire body felt as if it had been torn apart, and he lay staring up at the sky. When he finally raised himself, Alivia and Greg were beside him.

Before he could call out to them, Alivia spoke.

"Greg…are you alright?" Alivia asked, and Mathew slowly climbed to his feet just as his friend turned around to look at them.

Greg wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing away a trail of blood. Hearing Alivia call out to them, he looked at her and smiled. It was a small, casual smile that she had seen Greg give many times before.

But there was something slightly off about it.

"That was rough." Greg replied, rolling his shoulders. His voice was almost right, but it was just a fraction too smooth, a little too even. He should have been out of breath; he should have been exhausted from just having fought for his life.

Neither Alivia nor Mathew answered, nor did they move toward him.

"What's wrong? Both of you are looking at me like you don't know me." Greg said, tilting his head and giving them a wide smile. He ran his finger along the edge of his mask and chuckled.

"Oh. You figured it out." Greg murmured, his voice filled with amusement.

"You should have seen his face at the end. When he knew I was stronger, it was like seeing a rabbit caught in a trap. That last flicker of hope snuffed out. That's when he knew that I was the one who deserved to walk away."

The thing wearing Greg's face exhaled slowly and smiled with contentment.

"And now I have."