Tower of Avarice: A LitRPG story

Mercy had never been one for attachments. She had carved her way through the Tower of Avarice in a chaotic, beautiful and utterly devastating manner. She was a wildfire burning out of control.

She had also become used to being alone. People came and went as the years passed. Allies were non-existent, and enemies were just fuel for the demonic flames inside her. Emotions, apart from anger and hatred, were a weakness, and intimacy was a tool to fulfill her needs before moving on.

Mercy had thought she was beyond trivial distractions, and her belief had been reinforced by her placement as an Apostle of Mischievous Depravity.

But then he came into her life. He didn't try to tame her or try to understand her motivations. In fact, he barely spoke to her at all. That should have infuriated her; it should have made her walk away, or lose interest or ignite her hatred toward him.

Instead, the more he said nothing to her, the more she couldn't stop thinking about him. Mathew's silence was like gravity; it drew her toward him, and there was nothing she could do to escape it. Her occasional glances toward him became longer, and her teasing grew sharper and more personal. She liked to provoke him; she enjoyed how his jaw would clench ever so slightly when she moved too close to him.

She wanted to see if she could make him react to her. To see if he would laugh at her attempts to seduce him, or yell in anger for her to stop, or even to smile.

But Mathew never did. And that was what twisted her interest in him into obsession.

Anger or hatred she could understand. Lust was simple; physical attraction was expected. But ignoring her was beyond belief.

Mathew was different from anyone she had ever met. She had looked forward to their encounters in the Tower. It was an opportunity to test herself against him and see who came out on top. But now, things have changed.

It wasn't because he was stronger than anyone she had ever met. He was terrifyingly powerful, beyond any other Apostle or Demigod in their domain. She was attracted to him for that strength, but that wasn't why she was obsessed.

Maybe it was because he had an intense rage inside him that was buried deep beneath layers of cold restraint and control. Mercy had been beside him for so long now that she could see the faint hints of emotions that bubbled to the surface.

It had taken decades, maybe centuries, but she spotted them. There was anger at the gods and the Tower, shame and guilt at having to serve one of them. But there was also an ever-present sorrow. A sadness that was too vast to overcome.

And that made her want him even more. She wanted to smother than sadness, to burn it away with the intensity of her obsession. She wanted him to think of nothing else but her body, to desire no one else but her. She wanted to devour him, to burn them both in the flames of the demon inside of her and revel in it.

Mercy shuddered in pleasure at the thought.

She would watch him from the shadows sometimes, when he sat alone on broken altars to enemy deities or the rubble of civilizations they had destroyed. She studied his face while he stared at things that held no meaning to her, and she wondered if he ever thought of her.

Sometimes she imagined peeling his skin back just to see if he would bleed for her. She wanted to carve herself into him, to leave marks on his flesh that would never heal. Mathew would have scars that spells her name in every language in the universe.

Mercy wanted to kneel at his feet and worship his bones, then tear them from his body just to hear him scream her name in reverence. She desired his beautiful face to grind it into ash beneath her teeth.

Mercy didn't care if he ever returned her feelings, or maybe she did. She didn't even know what her feelings for Mathew were anymore. Love was too small a word for what she felt. Love didn't make you want to crawl inside someone's skin and wear it like armour.

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Love didn't make you want to gouge out the eyes of anyone who looked at him or gut anyone who caught his interest.

The demon inside her would whisper sweet encouragements, purring promises in her mind. Take him. Break him. Make him yours, again and again, until he is ground to dust and burned to ash. Devour his essence so that he can never leave you.

Mercy licked her lips as she indulged in those thoughts.

So, when Mischievous Depravity called her to stand before them and gave her a task suited to her, one that would make Mathew suffer but ensure that he would be hers alone, she leapt on it. Mercy didn't hesitate or question. There was just an intense burst of anticipation at what would come next.

Emily. The source of Mathew's sadness and determination. She was like a star in Mathew's chest, whose light kept him tethered to something good. She was an anchor to a world that Mathew should have forgotten, one that prevented him from submitting to her desires.

Emily dared to challenge the Tower of Avarice in the hope of winning a wish powerful enough to unbind the chains that wrapped tightly around Mathew. Chains that kept him bound to Mercy.

Emily had to die.

Page Break

Emily and Louis stepped through the Elevator and onto the sandy ground. A coliseum stretched out before them, vast and empty. It had high, white stone walls that were darkened in places with age and remnants of battles.

The sun overhead cast long shadows across the arena floor, which was flat and still. It was silent and even the wind was still for the moment.

They had only taken a few steps into the arena when the silver wristbands they wore began to glow, and a mechanical voice spoke.

"Welcome, Challengers, to the 97th Floor. You now stand within the Grand Arena of the Tower of Avarice. Here, your trial is not one of wit or willpower but of blood. An Apostle has arrived, one who has transcended mortal flesh and has been reborn by the will of a god."

"Their purpose is to destroy you. Slay the Apostle, and the path to the 98th Floor will be opened to you. Fail, and your bones will remain buried in this sand for all eternity."

Before either Emily or Louis could react, another figure appeared. She casually strode through the opposite archway of the arena as if it were a stage built solely for her entrance.

The young woman looked like violence made flesh. Her outfit clung tightly to her, with black leather torn on the sleeves, legs and chest. Studded belts wrapped around her waist and thighs while her black shirt was frayed at the edges.

What was most memorable about her was her spiked, red hair that gave her a wild and furious look. She didn't speak immediately, instead, she observed them carefully, hungrily, before she smiled.

"So, you're her. The one who has Mathew's heart all tied into knots. I don't know what he sees in you. But I guess I can respect the effort you're going through. You've climbed all this way for him, and he doesn't even know it."

Ice flooded Emily's stomach, and her breath caught in her throat. This young woman knew exactly who she was, which meant that she knew…

"Mathew. You're an Apostle of Mischievous Depravity." Emily whispered, and Louis stiffened next to her. His hand grasped the sword at his waist as he watched the young woman across from them with wariness.

The young woman's smile turned cruel.

"One of two. We've been spending so much time together, Mathew and I. Every day." Mercy let the words hang heavy before finishing the sentence.

"Every night." Mercy teased and she felt a thrill at seeing the hurt expression appear on Emily's face. She savoured it and imagined what Mathew's face would look like when she brought him Emily's head.

"Maybe I'll cut off your face and wear it like a mask. He might enjoy that." Mercy continued, her voice smooth and almost purring with pleasure.

Emily's fists clenched at her sides as heat rose in her chest that threatened to burst. She tried not to let Mercy's venomous words poison her mind. But it was difficult. She kept imagining Mathew and the young woman together, enjoying each other.

"You! You're nothing but a monster! A liar!" Emily shouted, and with a single motion, she thrust her hand outward, palm flat toward Mercy. A wave of mana shot from her hand and arced through the air with blinding speed.

But Mercy didn't flinch. Instead, her smile grew larger as her body began to change. Her form stretched, and the curves of her body pulled taut as her human features began to blur and twist. Her skin darkened, and strange symbols and markings appeared on her chest and limbs.

"I'm going to enjoy this. Almost as much as I'm going to enjoy Mathew after." Mercy taunted before leaping forward with her claws outstretched. Her movements were inhumanly swift, and only Louis' intervention prevented Emily's heart from being snatched from her chest.

"Focus, Emily. Now is not the time for emotions." Louis cautioned as he used his sword to block the next attack. He slashed with his blade to drive the demonic young woman back and gain some distance.

Emily stumbled back and drew the staff from her inventory. With a deep breath, she summoned her magic to defend her, and the battle consumed the arena around them.