Tower of Avarice: A LitRPG story

The domain trembled from the battle between gods.

The sky was a storm of writhing shadows and blinding light, torn apart by the clash of divine powers. Mischievous Depravity unravelled its tangled tendrils to reveal its vast, impossibly large form that eclipsed the heavens.

Those tentacles churned like a dark ocean, and each movement spawned vortexes of malevolent, mad energy. The mass of eyes blinked in chaotic patterns that spilled waves of insanity-inducing images in the air.

A thousand mouths opened at once and called upon energies from outside the Tower. The god spoke in a language unknown by any in the Tower, instead, it existed in the space beyond the Tower's control. Mischievous Depravity summoned concepts from other realities and gave them form. Fragments of lawless physics twisted around howling winds that reshaped matter.

Mischievous Depravity was attempting to bring chaos to the order that was the foundation of Unyielding Declaration divinity. Mountain ranges that had stabilized upon the arrival of the foreign god became a sea of feathers and grain. A field turned to glass that formed mouths to scream in agony.

But Unyielding Declaration remained unbroken.

He moved like a pillar of flame and silver divine light. Every word he spoke and every motion he made cast out waves of law and symmetry to tame the chaos. In his right hand, he grasped the Sigil of the First Word, a glyph made of pure white fire that was the personification of Celestial magic.

As the chaos surged toward him once more, he spoke, and the world obeyed.

"Be Still."

The command shattered a tentacle the size of a city into harmless ash. The words weren't shouted, they were proclaimed, and the air around him bent to his will and forced his authority onto reality. Where Mischievous Depravity unmade the world with chaos brought from outside the Tower of Avarice, Unyielding Declaration reforged it with the verses obtained from the Song of Creation.

They were sacred stanzas whose meaning had been divined from communing with the Song, which had created the universe, bringing form to that which was formless.

Each verse he sang rang out like a cathedral bell, shaking the foundations of reality.

"Let form return!" A crumbling continent knitted itself back together, hills rose, and the rivers began to flow once more.

"Let the madness break!" The strange alien physics brought from outside the Tower was banished once more, evaporating into harmless motes of light.

"Let order and life endure!" The stabilized domain that was under siege by Mischievous Depravity's chaotic will held fast once more.

They stood locked in a war of divine wills that crashed against each other like colliding stars. Creation and corruption, order and madness, with neither able to overcome the other. It was a battle unlike anything in mortal understanding. There were no attacks on the other's form, but rather, they were attempting to destroy the foundations of the other's divinity.

Far below the battle, a young man sat on a piece of rock that jutted from the earth. The landscape around him was a broken plain of half-formed structures and mixed terrain that was barely stable. The ground would tremble occasionally from the fighting, but it didn't affect the young man much.

In this quiet area of calm, it could have almost been peaceful.

Mathew sat with the Godslaying Blade of Wrath resting on his knees and watched the battle with disinterest. His posture was relaxed, almost lazy, with his shoulders slouched and his eyes unfocused as he gazed up at the sky being torn apart.

The war between Mischievous Depravity and Unyielding Declaration raged across the domain, and the very air was warping, screaming, collapsing and rebuilding around him in the span of heartbeats. Mountains rose and fell in seconds, oceans ignited into fire, and the land split apart under the strain.

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But Mathew didn't flinch, nor did he marvel at the display of divine power. His expression was empty, and his eyes followed the chaos. His tired gaze was that of someone who had seen too much, lost too much, and no longer had the strength to be impressed or afraid.

He didn't care about anything anymore.

It wasn't until he felt a strange presence approaching, something that shouldn't have been in this domain, that he lowered his head, and his expression gained a faint sense of emotion.

There was a hint of confusion, anger, sadness and disbelief, all waging war inside him for a moment before they were stifled by the connection with Mischievous Depravity and his own apathy for everything around him.

Mathew's gaze shifted as the air around him stirred, and his attention was drawn from the warring gods above to something closer and far quieter.

He saw them approaching across the broken landscape, using the momentary stabilization to cross the divide between them. Lunara was in the lead, tall, ethereal and with an alien grace that was untouched by the chaos. Louis appeared tense but resolute, with his right hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

Then, there was Emily, who had a fierce, stubborn, and desperate look on her beautiful face. Her eyes were locked onto him with a fire that couldn't be quenched.

But Mathew made no move to rise from the rock he was sitting on. No expression of shock or surprise appeared on his face. The only thing that changed was that a slow, hollow sigh escaped him that was like the last breath of a dying world.

"I knew you'd come. Mercy's dead, and the gods are fighting." Mathew greeted them in a voice that was low and rough from disuse. His fingers brushed against the hilt of the sword on his lap, and he had to resist the urge to grab it.

"You shouldn't have come." There was a weight to his words that didn't come from anger but from a crushing, weary certainty that no matter what they thought they were trying to accomplish, it wouldn't make a difference.

Emily took a step closer while ignoring the cracks that spread under her feet as the unstable ground shifted slightly. Her voice shook, but it was steady enough to carry her meaning.

"We're here to save you, Mathew. You don't have to stay here. We can break the bond and bring you back." Emily said, and Mathew could hear the lie in her words. She may believe that there was a way, but he knew the truth.

It was hopeless.

For a moment, Mathew simply stared at her before his eyes raked across the rest of them. His face changed to an expression that wasn't quite pity, but it wasn't grief. It was deeper and older than they could understand.

He laughed, but it was brittle and humourless.

"Save me?" He repeated and tilted his head slightly as if he didn't understand what she meant.

"There's nothing left to save, Emily."

Mathew stood up from the rock slowly, and the Godslaying Blade of Wrath slid from his lap to rest casually against his shoulder. The movement stirred the air, and a low thrum of mana pulsed outward from his body, creating a gust of wind and stirring up the dust.

"Nothing matters anymore. Not the gods or mortals. Not you. And not me." His voice was bitter and hopeless as he said those words.

Without any warning, the Blade flared to life. A pillar of energy erupted from him that was formed from raw mana and was stifling and cataclysmic. The ground at his feet cracked and disintegrated, sending violent ripples through the already broken landscape.

The air became thick and oppressive; it trembled under the pressure of his unleashed power. It wasn't a wild surge or energy; it was deliberate and controlled but still radiated destruction so potent it felt as though the domain around them might buckle under its weight.

The colours of the world around him seemed to be slowly leeched away as if drawn into the vortex of his presence.

Louis stumbled back a step and shielded his eyes with his hand, and even Lunara's expressionless face betrayed a flicker of concern and caution at the display of strength. Only Emily refused to move as she felt the harsh mana crash against her.

Mathew remained perfectly calm in the center of the devastation he unleashed; his black coat whipped around him in the violent currents of energy. His eyes, which had always been so warm and kind when they looked at her, were now distant and dull, like embers in a burned-out hearth.

"You should all turn back, or you'll die." Mathew said quietly, and his voice was nearly lost beneath the rumble of his own power.

Emily took another step forward as she felt the crushing force of his energy pushing against her with every inch she gained. It was like walking into a storm that wanted to tear her apart.

"We're not leaving you!" She shouted back, though her voice sounded small against the roar of Mathew's power.

He watched them silently without moving while the Godslaying Blade of Warth on his shoulder pulsed with energy, and the earth around him cracked wider, splintering outward like a spiderweb. Shards of stone, crystal and metal lifted into the air and hung suspended around him.

Emily braced herself and took another step forward. Every fibre of her being screamed at her in protest, and the Buzz warned that her death was imminent. But she didn't stop.

"I'm not leaving you behind. Not again."

For the briefest moment, there was a flicker of emotion on Mathew's face, a crack in the mask. But it was drowned in a moment, and the storm intensified.

"I warned you."

With a single, fluid motion, Mathew moved faster than thought, and the ground between them shattered as the battle began.