Tower of Avarice: A LitRPG story

The World around Mathew was tearing itself apart. Crimson lightning forked across a sky that bled colours from a battle between gods that weren't meant for mortal eyes. The ground cracked and buckled beneath his boots with every step he took.

The Godslaying Blade of Wrath pulsed in Mathew's grip; its black edge exuded tendrils of corrosive energy that scorched the air. The sword had changed since he had entered Mischievous Depravity's service as an Apostle, with the blade taking on the properties of the god.

The weapon screamed with each swing, and Mathew could feel that it longed for devastation, destruction and death.

Despite the corrosive energies and the terrible effects of the battle happening around him, Mathew didn't feel the heat or the pain. In fact, he didn't feel much of anything.

Louis came at him once Mathew regained his feet. The Prince charged through the chaos with his silver blade leading. His blade met Mathew's once again with a thunderous crash that sent shockwaves through the broken terrain.

His movements were efficient and disciplined, but Mathew deflected them with mechanical precision. His own counters were fluid and deadly; his own sword was always just where it needed to be to block, angled in the correct way to push Louis back.

But Louis was getting better as time passed, while Mathew was growing tired. Steel scraped across steel in a blur, and the Prince was quickly learning to read Mathew's movements and find openings.

Mathew, seeing that he was about to be cut, suddenly twisted and slammed his shoulder into Louis's chest. The impact sent the man tumbling back, and he skidded across shards of fractured stone.

But Mathew had no time to press the advantage as a searing wave of heat reached him.

Emily stood across the battlefield with her arms outstretched as she released a torrent of flame shaped like a dragon's maw. The fire was white in intensity and clung to everything it touched, like burning oil. It clashed against a shield of mana that Mathew summoned by reflex, a coiling sphere of black energy that hissed and crackled against her fire like oil meeting water.

The flames evaporated against his barrier, but the heat lingered against his skin.

'It hurts.' Mathew thought to himself as he slashed with his sword and released a wave of energy that drove her back and disrupted her casting.

Mathew was losing. He couldn't fight against the four of them, not when they were working in concert to keep him tired and off-balance. They could provide relief and cover each other, allowing them to rest, while Mathew had to keep battling.

'I shouldn't be doing this.' Mathew thought as the pain crashed its way through his dead emotions, and he finally felt something.

Mathew was about to explore the feeling further when he heard a voice thunder through his mind and put an end to his thoughts.

"Do not waver."

The words slithered through his mind like nails on a chalkboard. Mischievous Depravity's will surged through the tether that bound him. It was a force, a pressure against his soul that was vast, ancient and endlessly cruel.

His errant thoughts and stray emotions stifled; Mathew pushed forward and sliced a horizontal arc of energy with his sword that shattered everything in its path. The Godslaying Blade dragged a wake of dark energy behind it like a comet's trail.

Mathew felt stronger as the bond pumped new mana into his body and re-energized his lagging spirit. He was renewed, and even his many wounds were quickly healed.

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He was on the verge of winning when the Words of Power made their reappearance.

Lunara's voice echoed across the ruined landscape, as clear as crystal and absolute. She spoke a Verse from the Song of Creation, and the air itself bent away from her as reality was pulled taut like stretched fabric. The light conjured by her Celestial magic descended in sweeping rays, each burning with unimaginable intensity.

Her Celestial power stopped Mathew in place, and his knees buckled. Mathew screamed, not in pain but to give voice to the frustration Mischievous Depravity felt at being hindered. The god was losing patience with these mortals and couldn't help but draw some of its attention away from its divine foe.

Mathew answered with his own Word of Power, fueled by his deity's mana. The twisting syllables left Mathew's mouth like poison and turned into something raw and wrong.

Before he could complete the Word, a blur of motion caught his eye and a card sliced through the air and shattered the Word in mid-formation. The remnant energy collapsed, and he was filled with a surge of Mischievous Depravity's anger and hatred.

Alivia landed beside Emily and flipped another card between her fingers while her gaze locked on him. There was no warmth in her expression, only disgust, displeasure and judgment.

Mathew stared back at her blankly. If she thought to find her feelings reflected back in his eyes, she was going to be disappointed. There were no feelings left inside of him for her to see.

His body moved without thought, driven by Mischievous Depravity's compulsion. Mathew's thoughts flickered like dying embers and, in their place, apathy bloomed.

A flood of divine energy broke the spell holding him in place, shattering it like glass. Mathew leapt to his feet and swung his blade against them, only to be hindered once again by Louis. Their swords collided again, and behind the sparks, Mathew saw Emily chanting a new spell and Lunara speaking the words to a Verse of the Song of Creation and Alivia readying another card.

Mathew was being overwhelmed. Even with Mischievous Depravity's power, they were chipping away at him with magic, steel, divine words and trickery. They were a united force fueled by conviction while he stood alone.

He was struck in the chest by a beam of energy that detonated with an explosion that sent him flying backwards and embedding his body into the ground. The Godslaying Blade of Wrath fell beside him with a heavy clang, embedding itself into the cracked ground.

Mathew stared at the sword and saw his reflection in the Blade's mirror-like, black surface. His eyes were empty, his skin pale, and his veins were black. He looked sickly and possessed.

But he still felt nothing. No rage, or sorrow or even fear.

The only thing he felt was tired.

Mathew the Enduring wanted to endure no more.

Page Break

Mathew lay on the ground that still glowed faintly with the residue of the magic Emily had unleashed. Her chest rose and fell with each labored breath and her fingers ached around her magical staff, but her eyes were locked on Mathew.

The Godslaying Blade of Wrath had sunk into the ground beside him; its once-blinding edge was dull and cracked. Mathew himself was in a sorry state. He was heavily wounded, his clothing torn and scorched, while his skin was pale and white.

Black veins crisscrossed his skin and, when combined with a sickly, churning aura of corrupt and tainted energy, told her that he had drawn heavily on Mischievous Depravity's power.

They had accomplished their goal. They had forced Mathew to use everything he had and take even more from his god in order to fight them.

The energy clung to him like rot and seeped from his pores. It even twisted the space around him until the air felt wrong as if it were heavy and unbreathable.

Emily's heart broke as she felt she was looking at Mathew's corpse despite him still living.

"Mathew." She whispered as she stepped forward slowly. She approached Mathew like she would a wounded animal that might lash out at any second.

"What have you done to yourself?" Her voice trembled, and she knew in her heart that he had done it for her.

Mathew didn't answer, nor did he even lift his head from the ground.

"We've done it." Lunara stated from behind her and Emily instinctively looked to the sky where the battle between Unyielding Declaration and Mischievous Depravity was still ongoing.

The divine battle that was raging above the broken and shifting landscape was no longer evenly matched. The sky had split open under the power of Unyielding Declaration, and from the gap came the music of the Song of Creation.

The god's Words of Power sand through the domain, and each one unravelled the madness that had poured forth from Mischievous Depravity.

And the Outer God, the deity that had stolen Mathew from her, was reeling. The tendrils that had once pierced the sky recoiled and its vast form was beginning to lose cohesion. Its mass, once limitless and overwhelming, seemed to shrink and fold in on itself.

It was losing.

Emily's gaze fell back to Mathew, who was broken, silent and bleeding in the dirt. Even as the god he served began to fall, Mathew sat there like a hollow shell.