Tower of Avarice: A LitRPG story

The elevator doors slid open with an almost reluctant sigh that let in a gust of dusty, hot wind. Emily stepped forward through the opening, and the world changed around her.

The 91st Floor of the Tower of Avarice was a blasted and desolate wasteland beneath a blue sky that lacked a single cloud and only had a bright, angry sun above. The land was flat, and Emily could see for miles in every direction, but nothing caught her eye.

She tightened her grip on her magical staff as the silver wristband began to speak.

"Welcome to the 91st Floor. You have reached the home of The Heartless God, once worshipped by billions of people until it failed its ascension. Now it is nothing but a Fallen Deity, one that will never rise again."

"But even a Fallen God has its uses. Aether has accumulated around its body in astonishing amounts, fueled by the death of this world and the damage done to a divine being."

"Travel to the Maw of Glass where the body of the Heartless God rests and collect the Aether. But beware, what is Fallen is not dead, and life yet remains in them."

Emily squinted into the horizon as the silver wristband gave her a map of the area and a compass to follow. The Maw of Glass was a labyrinthine ruin that could only be reached by a treacherous path through a gorge.

Wind howled through the gorge as she looked down at the ruins from above. Her boots crunched over cracked stone, and each step threatened to send her plummeting far below. There was a strange energy in the air that prevented her from using her magic to fly or ease her journey.

It took her days to reach the ruins and another week to traverse them.

When Emily finally emerged from the final corridor of the Maw of Glass, she immediately noticed that the ever-present wind had stilled. A massive hollow stretched out before her, and the stone around it had been melted and warped in an intense fire.

Along the edges of the crater were the remains of shattered temples and buildings, most having been pulverized by the being that lay at its center.

Its body was impossibly vast, although it was half-buried in the broken earth. Tower and monoliths had crumbled across its body while the exposed skin shimmered with Aether. The blueish energy was vibrant and radiant, but several sections had crystallized and fused with the ground beneath it.

Broken wings jutted from the Fallen God's back. They were twisted and skeletal, with one only hanging by a thread as it dangled from the body. Symbols had been burned into the being's flesh, sigils that had once glowed with power and were now nothing but ornaments.

The massive being's chest rose and fell in slow, irregular movements. It was still alive and still breathing, if only barely.

Emily stared upwards at what remained of its face. It wore a crown made of glass that had once been meant to channel heavenly energy before it had cracked. It was fused to the bone of the Hearthless God's skull, and it was now dull.

One of its eyes was gone, while the other stared sightlessly at nothing. It was a black orb, like a chunk of coal that lacked the light of life within it. It looked human but with a monstrous proportion.

She stepped closer, her boots crunching over the melted stone. She used the glow of her silver wristband to light the way and drive back the shadows in order to see it better. Streams of raw, liquid Aether bled from the god's wounds, and it pooled together in the crater.

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It was when she neared that she heard a voice. It echoed throughout the surroundings, and the earth shook in response.

"You have come to take what remains of me."

Emily froze, her heart thudding loudly in her chest.

"I failed the ascent, and I was shattered by it. But my fall will not mean my death!" The voice roared, and the ground cracked and split as the giant began to move. The words slammed into the air like a shockwave, radiating outward from the crater.

A massive hand that leaked streams of liquid Aether rose from the rubble and clenched into a trembling fist.

Emily stumbled back and raised the staff in her hands to ward off the blow. A barrier of mana swiftly erected around her, and she screamed out the words to a spell.

She had to survive the fury of the Fallen God and take what she needed in order to pass to the next Floor. She wouldn't stop now.

Page Break

"You should stop now." Mathew said to the group of people assembled in front of him. Each of them was unique from the other: a mage, a warrior, an artificer of some kind. There was even a silent young woman wrapped in shadows that moved with a will of their own.

They were filled with confidence, partially due to their numbers but also from their experience. They were from the Tower of Avarice and not just some low or mid-ranked Floor. They had all been summoned here from the 91st Floor, an achievement that only a few could boast of.

While there were seven on their side, Mathew was alone. He was still wearing his old, black coat that fluttered in the wind. It was showing its age, the black was faded, and several of the stains couldn't be removed no matter how much he tried.

But it had been with him so long that he didn't want to part with it, despite the fact that he could have gotten something better, something more appropriate to his title.

"You can stop and just go through a punishment Floor. Trust me, it's better than dying here." Mathew advised them, his voice soft and filled with exhaustion. He was tired of fighting people for a cause he didn't believe in on behalf of a god that he detested.

But he didn't have a choice. The only thing he could do now was try to warn them off before it was too late.

No one moved for a long moment. The people in front of him were tense and focused as they watched for a sign of weakness. Mathew was full of it. He was standing in front of them in mundane clothing, weaponless and not a single sign of attacking.

But the Buzz warned them all that they were in terrible danger.

Mathew let out a resigned sigh as he saw that his words were meaningless.

"Fine, have it your way."

Mathew didn't move quickly, he simply reached out his hand to his right side and made a grabbing motion into empty air. His fingers curled around nothingness, and, for a breathless moment, the world seemed to hold still. Even the wind paused in anticipation.

When he pulled his hand back, reality tore around it. From the wound, Mathew drew forth the Godslaying Blade of Wrath.

It seemed to come reluctantly, as though the void he had taken it from had second thoughts about letting it go. The metal screamed as it emerged, a screeching wail that set their nerves on edge. The blade was long and brutal looking, with a sharp edge that shimmered in the light and a blunt, squared tip that lacked any elegance.

As soon as the weapon was exposed from his inventory, the world shook around them. The sky above them began to darken, and the earth groaned as if in protest of its presence. Dust exploded outward in a violent ring around Mathew's boots, disturbed by a vortex of raw energy.

Thick, howling and furious mana rushed from Mathew, bending the air and tearing through stone as if it were paper. He stood at the center of the storm, his coat whipping around him while the Godslaying Blade of Wrath rested on his shoulder.

Mathew stared at them with eyes that glowed a bright blue, while his face had the tired look of a man who had done this far too many times.

"I warned you. You should have listened." He said, his voice was layered with power that seemed to come from all around them.

The battle was sudden and cataclysmic in scale. No one spoke any words, and the only sound was the roar of unleashed mana and the scream as their weapons tore through the earth. Power rippled through the air, and when Mathew moved, the sword in his hands was a streak of fury.

The ground split, and the sky dimmed from the violence. Dust choked the battlefield, and lights erupted in a dozen different colours. Magic collided with magic, while sword met sword, or axe or dagger. They came at Mathew from all sides in a coordinated and relentless attack.

But Mathew endured it all until, finally, his attackers knelt in front of him in the ruin. They were breathless and beaten, their weapons scattered around the ground, and their strength was gone. The earth around them was torn and smoking.

Mathew watched them silently with the Godslaying Blade resting on his shoulder. He didn't say anything as he didn't need to.

This world belonged to Mischievous Depravity now.