Tower of Avarice: A LitRPG story

Everything was dimming. Not in a sudden or violent way, not like the lurch of battle or pain, but gradually. It was as if the sun was slipping behind clouds that would never part again.

Mathew's vision blurred at the edges, smeared with shadow and light. The shapes of the world bled together.

He blinked slowly to try and clear his eyes, but they refused to respond.

Even his breathing felt heavy now, with each breath a chore. His lungs rasped, and the air tasted metallic and sour. His blood trickled down the side of his mouth with uneven warmth, but he couldn't feel most of his body anymore.

Something important was leaving him, but he couldn't find it in himself to care about its loss.

The connection, that monstrous and invasive ever-present thread that bound him to Mischievous Depravity, was fraying and unravelling. The constant whispers, the sharp pressure pushing down on his thoughts and the weight of a foreign will that dictated his every movement for so long was finally fading.

And as it did so, it took everything with it.

Mathew's emotions didn't return when the god withdrew. There was no new clarity or great liberation. There was just a feeling of cold. A vast and absolute emptiness where once there had been a will, even if it was someone else's.

Mathew didn't feel like himself again. He didn't feel much of anything. He was just a shell; his body and soul burned out, and his spirit was used up.

He tried to lift his head, but his muscles refused to respond. The Godslaying Blade of Wrath wasn't in his hand anymore, and he couldn't remember where he had put it. It had been with him for so long, but he didn't really worry about it.

The fight was over, and he wouldn't need a sword anymore.

Mathew blinked his eyes again and saw faces in front of him. They were shapes, silhouettes against the blur. There was a light behind them, bright and alien and far too soft for this domain.

He recognized them.

Louis, the Prince of Francia who had quickly become a friend to him, was standing with his sword lowered as he watched him with a face full of guarded grief.

Alivia still had her deck of cards clutched in one hand while the other trembled ever so slightly.

Then, there was Lunara, his former mentor. Her emotions were deeply buried, and, as a Celestial, most people would think she was expressionless. But Mathew knew her well, and she was grieving heavily, although he couldn't understand why.

The concept of feeling sad for someone's pending death was so foreign to him now.

Mathew managed to move his eyes enough to see who knelt beside him.

Emily's hair was dishevelled, her face was streaked with dirt and tears, and there was something in her eyes that Mathew couldn't recognize.

She was speaking to him, but the sound didn't reach his ears. He could see her mouth move, but she was mute. The world was underwater now, and everything became faint and distant, like a dream he had been waking from.

Mathew tried to say her name, but he wasn't sure if the sound ever left his lips.

Why did he try to speak to her? What did she mean to him?

'Ah..that's right. She was everything.' Mathew thought sluggishly, and a small flash of emotion erupted in his chest. It was like the last ember of a dying fire, struggling to burn before being smothered.

Mathew's fingers twitched toward her hand, and the tips just barely brushed against her before they stopped.

There was no pain, no rage, no devotion to a god. There was no purpose to living.

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There was just tiredness, a deep, all-consuming exhaustion. Mathew let go of something, and he wasn't sure if it was the world, himself, or the last flicker of who he had once been.

His vision dimmed for the final time, and Mathew wondered distantly if he was ever really worth saving.

Then there was nothing.

Page Break

Emily knelt by Mathew's side, her knees pressed into the cracked, blood-soaked ground. Her hands hovered just above his chest as if she were unsure if touching him would help or hasten the end. Her own breathing was shallow, but she didn't notice.

All she could see was him.

Mathew's head rested against the soft ground; his face was pale and streaked with blood and dirt. His coat hung in tatters, and the Godslaying Blade of Wrath lay discarded beside him. The sword's glow flickered with a last trace of divine power before turning dark.

Mathew looked smaller to her now, not in stature but in presence. The terrible, god-infused force that had rippled from him was gone, along with the darkness that had clung to him. The divine power that had been so stifling had been burned away, leaving nothing behind.

"Mathew." Emily whispered his name, but he didn't respond.

His chest still rose and fell with a motion so faint that she could only discern it by the subtle shift of the torn fabric near his ribs. His face was turned slightly towards her, and his lips parted as if they were about to speak a word that he no longer had the strength to say.

Then, his hand twitched and the fingers curled half an inch in her direction and touched the back of her hand. Her heart caught in her throat as the breath left him and didn't come back.

The tension faded from his limbs and his face relaxed and had the appearance of peace. Whatever force that had been holding him together, whether divine or his own willpower, finally stopped.

He was gone.

Emily bowed her head and pressed her forehead to the back of his hand, and her shoulders shook as tears freely fell with silent, aching sobs that wracked her entire body.

All she had wanted to do was to save him, but she had failed.

Emily felt a hand on her shoulder, and she turned to see Alivia standing behind her. Despite the sadness she felt, Alivia gave her a small and gentle smile.

"Don't lose hope. We can still bring him back. We can bring them all back." Aliva assured her while Louis nodded encouragingly.

Emily felt a sudden surge of relief and happiness at their words. She had nearly forgotten her wish! It was possible to resurrect someone; the Tower had proven that by bringing her mother back to life after Emily had seen her die.

Those feelings only lasted a moment before Lunara interrupted them.

The Celestial's tall form cast a long shadow over them; her pale skin glowed faintly in the light. Her face was still expressionless, but a faint somberness could be seen in her black eyes.

"Emily." Lunara called out, and her words were surprisingly gentle.

"We still have our wishes. We can bring him back; the Tower grants us anything." Louis said, his voice hollow.

"No. It does not." Lunara said, and her voice was final.

Emily's head rose slowly, and she stared at Lunara with red-rimmed eyes filled with desperation.

"Why not? We brought my mother back! She was dead, and the Tower brought her back!" Emily shouted. The Celestial was silent for a moment before she did something unexpected. She knelt down beside her and gently placed her long-fingered hand on Mathew's head.

"Your mother died within the Tower." Lunara said gently.

"Her spirit remained bound to this place, to its laws. Her soul could continue on here, whether in the afterlife or reincarnated. Her soul never passed beyond the Tower's reach. That is why she could be called back."

Lunara brushed her hand over Mathew's face, closing his open eyes before she continued speaking.

"Mathew's soul is bound to Mischievous Depravity. It is not within the Tower's reach. Only their god can resurrect an Apostle." Lunara finished explaining, and an expression of grief and loss finally cracked her Celestial mask.

"Then, we force Mischievous Depravity to bring him back." Louis said firmly, and Alivia quickly nodded.

"That will not be possible. Mischievous Depravity is no longer a god." A voice said, and they all turned their heads to see Unyielding Declaration walking toward them.

The god's form was still cloaked in an otherworldly radiance, a shifting outline of golden light that was woven with mana and Aether. Each step he took caused the world around him to stabilize and settle; the shifting landscape stilled.

His expression was unreadable, as was typical of a Celestial. Oddly, he had a bright spark of light in his hands that was formed of a multitude of colours. No one could focus on it for too long as it seemed to exist in a plane above their own, but they could all feel the divinity within the strange object.

Emily rose to her feet slowly.

"What do you mean?" She asked, her throat dry and raspy.

Unyielding Declaration stopped a few paces from them, and his gaze fell on Mathew's lifeless body. A flicker of emotion passed over his black eyes, a mix of sadness, recognition, acknowledgement and pride.

"Divinity within the Tower is eternal, but not necessarily for the god who wields it. It can be stripped away by force. Mischievous Depravity is no more, only the Outer God that it once was remains. It will continue to exist outside the Tower."

"Then, Mathew was free at the end?" Emily said with hope, and the god shook his head slowly.

"No. Mathew will forever be tied to the shard of divinity Mischievous Depravity possessed." Unyielding Declaration responded, and his eyes drifted to the strange light he held in his hands.

"But there is still hope. You are not far from the Hundredth Floor; you must decide what your wish will be. The Tower will grant that which it is capable of. It can bring back the dead, grant immortality….or even bestow godhood."

Unyielding Declaration gave Mathew one final look before turning and walking away. His figure disappeared into motes of light, leaving them alone once more.

All that remained was a choice.