Tower of Avarice: A LitRPG story

The ground shook with every blast the Doppelganger 'Greg' unleashed. Violet and gold energy carved through the rocks and concrete of the courtyard, turning it into a smoldering ruin.

Mathew moved through the chaos, dodging low under the streaks of energy and reaching the Doppelganger in an instant. His fist slammed into Greg's ribs with bone-crushing force. Blood sprayed from the copy's mouth from the impact, but he barely reacted.

The Doppelganger struck back with savage precision by hitting Mathew in the gut with his knee and a palm strike that sent Mathew crashing into some scattered debris. Before he could recover, Greg unleashed another blast that tore through the air and seared Mathew's shoulder.

Screaming in pain, Mathew rolled away just as Alivia's magic surged in retaliation. Arcane whips of fire lashed out and wrapped themselves around the Doppelganger's limbs, burning into his flesh. Greg snarled as he fought against the restraints but Alivia was pouring every ounce of power she was drawing from her mask into the spell.

Greg wrenched an arm free and hurled an energy blast straight at her chest. The attack burned its way through her body and she fell to her knees with blood dripping from her lips. Greg lunged at her, ready to end it, but Mathew was already standing in front of her.

Mathew caught the Doppelganger while it was in mid-stride, tacking him to the ground while his fists hammered into its face, splintering skin and bone. Greg managed to free one of his arm and fired another blast at Mathew, who barely managed to twist and avoid it.

Incensed with fury, Mathew slammed the Doppelganger against the ground once again and gripped his head with both hands and twisted. The copy's body jerked violently as a loud crack rang out and his features twisted with pain, before he fell still.

Mathew staggered back, his chest heaving while his hands were still clenched into fists. Alivia collapsed onto the ground, her breath ragged.

The courtyard was silent and the air was thick with smoke and the stench of burnt flesh. The Doppelganger's body lay motionless, it's angry face relaxed in death until it looked just like their friend that it had replaced.

Mathew dropped beside Alivia, gripping her shoulder and giving her a gentle shake.

"Are you alright?" The words came out hoarse and breathless. Alivia tried to respond, but only a weak rasp escaped her lips. She shut her eyes and tried to focus on her beathing in order to stay conscious. Magic flickered at her fingertips, the beginnings of a spell that could head her wounds, but she was too drained to finish it.

"Here, let me help you." Mathew whispered, and he drew some of the power from his mask. The presence immediately began to speak to him, taunting him for his weakness in an attempt to weaken him through his guilt.

Ignoring it, he channelled some energy into Alivia, allowing her magic to coalesce around her. The wound on her chest slowly closed and she let out a sigh of relief that was quickly replaced by a sob.

"I'll be fine." She stammered, waving Mathew off.

Standing, he walked a few steps away to give her a moment to herself. He stared at the Doppelganger's body, unable to move anymore. It didn't feel real that he would lose another friend so quickly. He didn't even know where Greg's body was, the imposter had disposed of it in some manner.

Mathew's hands trembled from the weight of his emotions. It always ended like this. Mathew remembered all the others, many whose faces were blurred despite his enhanced memory. He had lived for far too long, centuries or even millennia.

He couldn't wait for it to be over.

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Mathew was interrupted from his dark thoughts by the voice of the Apostle speaking to the few who remained after the fight against their counterparts.

The Apostle had returned to his dais, although the stone had been cracked and fractured from the fighting. His robes were unmarked and as bright as ever despite the muted light in the courtyard. He surveyed those still standing after the carnage before speaking.

"Champions. Survivors." He said, his voice easily carrying across the courtyard.

"You have passed through the crucible, through the most insidious of trails. You were told some of the rules, but not all. That, of course, was the point! The challenge wasn't just of strength or cunning alone, it was of trust. It was of doubt. It was about the slow, suffocating erosion of the bonds of friendship and partnership. It was about that feeling of not knowing if you can trust those closest to you."

The Apostle let the silence hang for a moment. The heaviness of his statement was oppressive, and everyone felt it.

"Amongst you walked liars wearing familiar faces. Doppelgangers. Perfect copies that bled like you, laughed like you."

"And you killed them."

The Apostle broke out into laughter and began to spin around in a circle with his hands held toward the sky and his yellow cloak billowing out around him. When he came to a stop, his expression darkened and his tone shifted.

"But even the longest game must end." He stated, his voice low and mournful. He took off his ridiculous hat and held it against his chest.

"All good things do. The thrill of the unknown, the rush of survival, even those must fade away. This is the last round, the final challenge. There will be no more trials after this. No more tricks."

He stepped forward to the end of the dais and bowed low to the challengers.

"Remove your masks." He commanded as he straightened his body and placed his hat back on his head. His voice was loud now, hard and thunderous.

"That is all. No riddles or bloodshed. No hidden foe. All that remains on this Floor is this one, final act." He paced slowly in front of them, his cloak trailing behind him.

"There are no more enemies without. The only one left is the enemy within. Remove your mask and you may progress to the next Floor with the blessing of the God of Games." His statement was met with profound silence that was soon broken by a single voice.

"That's it!?" Someone shouted in disbelief. It was half a demand for answers, half a plea for the challenge to end. A figure in the crowd who was bloodied and exhausted, stepped forward. His mask was blood red, and it glistened in the light.

"After everything that we've been through, you're telling us it just ends if we take off these masks?"

The Apostle turned his gaze toward the speaker, his expression unreadable. He slowly nodded his head.

"Yes, that's all." He replied simply. There was something about his tone that implied it wouldn't be as easy as it sounded, but no one could argue with him.

The man who spoke reached up to grasp the mask on his face, but he stopped before his fingers could touch it. His hand trembled as if something was preventing him from grabbing it. He took a sudden step back.

"No. I won't." He shook his head, and his hand fell to his side before clenching into a fist.

"Fuck you! I earned this! I won't take it off!"

The Apostle regarded him silently, waiting, but the man only stepped further away and his posture became more defensive. The air around the man seemed to shift and thicken with an unseen pressure. His limbs began to twitch and a growl escaped his throat.

Suddenly, his body jerked forward and he grabbed the mask with both hands. The skin on his face stretched unnaturally, but the mask wouldn't come off. Falling to the ground, he writhed and screamed as the mask slowly changed him.

His body seemed to break down and rebuild, reshaping itself into something no longer human. His body tore itself apart and his skin darkened. In the end, the man became a twisted, monstrous version of himself with a red mask that glowed a bright red that stared at the crowd for a moment before disappearing in a flash of light.

"A pity. Another person who lost the game." The Apostle muttered, shaking his head before shrugging his shoulders.

"Now, on with the rest of you. Take your masks off and you're free to go!"

Mathew's hand moved without any hesitation. His fingers closed around the edge of the mask and he was already tugging it free before he consciously thought about what he was doing. But as soon as it lifted slightly, the world around him shifted.

The air grew thick with an alien energy. It was as if a tidal wave of darkness was crashing over him. The voice that had once been a whisper was now screaming in rage.

"You are mine!"

The words were no longer sweet or coaxing. They were a demand that sliced through his thoughts like a knife. The presence wanted him. It wanted to consume and take control of everything he was.

But Mathew was stronger than it. Fueled by the loss of his friend, and all they had suffered together. Mathew drowned out the voice with the force of his own willpower and lifted the mask off his face.

The instant it left his skin, the force that had been suffocating him collapsed, dissipating into the air like smoke. He threw the mask onto the ground and the mask split cleanly in two.

Turning away from it, Mathew saw Alivia behind him, maskless and free. He nodded to her.

"Let's go."