Road to Mastery: A LitRPG Apocalypse

Rory Pickleman was a late B-Grade Envoy of the Black Hole Church. His strength wasn’t anything special, but he cultivated the Dao of Simple Honesty, making him perfect for carrying out top-secret missions. That was why he, alone, had been chosen to accompany the Sage into the old Ancient galaxy where Enas was imprisoned. A huge honor, as well as a huge responsibility.

I have to admit it’s going pretty well so far, Rory thought, sitting on the tea table they had prepared beforehand as he watched the Sage begin the ritual. A black hole was surrounded by twelve runic columns, each possessing twelve sides. The Sage stood before the black hole and chanted, an unintelligible sound which filled even Rory with energy. His body was rejuvenated.

The twelve columns connected to each other in a green polygon around the black hole. Its sides swayed as if the hole’s rotation rubbed against them. While Rory couldn’t see the black hole, he could perceive it, and he noticed its rotation gradually slow down. A green light appeared in its midst, growing ever brighter as if approaching from an endless distance away. The same green light radiated from the Sage’s body.

Rory couldn’t contain his excitement. Of all the people in the universe, would he, a random Envoy, be the one to witness the return of Enas?

***

As Jack and Hero hyped themselves up, the Arch Priestess took something out of her space ring.

“Hmm?” Brock asked. “Recording stone?”

“That’s right. I’ve already spread word, and this duel will be broadcast across the universe. The Immortals will also broadcast it in every corner of System space.”

“Why?”

She tossed the stone up. It automatically activated and zoomed in, capturing Jack and Hero, who were about to clash. At the same time, large screens flashed on the gathering fields of all high-grade factions across System space, including the Milky Way galaxy—after everything that happened with Jack, the existence of other galaxies and higher Grade organizations was no longer a secret.

The duel was broadcasted to every important eye in the world—except Earth, which was uncontactable to all.

Jack didn’t know about the broadcast, nor did he care. He rushed Hero. Thanks to his new powers, charging through space at near light-speed felt like strolling through the park. He arrived and casually shot a punch. Hero swung his sword against it.

Purple energy blasted Hero’s defenses, carving a beam through space. The other man recoiled, blown away, retreating thousands of miles before stabilizing. He wiped his chin with a gauging expression.

“You have power,” he said. “Good. It wouldn’t be interesting otherwise.”

Contrary to the strike he’d just received, he seemed in a good mood. Jack ignored his words and charged again. The budding universe inside him roiled with power. The astral rivers serving as his blood accelerated, the purple-sun heart pulsing with power. The laws of his universe circulated, feeding their essence into his, letting his fist command a field of power surpassing the physical domain.

As he punched out, it was like endless natural laws crashing down. A massive starry fist appeared to ram into Hero.

Hero fought back this time. A silver aura radiated from his body, encapsulating the space around him, changing its properties and making it uniquely his. As Jack’s fist entered that space, he sensed it lose power as its Daos were no longer supported. It was like reality itself pushed against him.

“With the power vested in me by the people,” Hero chanted, “I cast judgment!”

Jack had fought late A-Grades before. The power unleashed by Hero was far above them, a terrible torrent of reality-consuming silver. The greatsword rose above him and cracked down like thunder. It met Jack’s fist, both attacks warping around and consuming each other.

“You’re good!” Jack laughed, even as Hero’s gaze turned ghastly.

“You can resist my named attacks!?” he asked. “Splendid! This makes my victory even worthier!”

“Don’t bite your tongue!”

Jack shot out, a missile crossing space. He reached Hero instantly. A fist smashed into the other man’s abdomen, ringing his armor like a bell. Another aimed for his head, blocked by a greatsword, which then turned and tried to cleave down Jack. He dodged it, pelting his opponent with Meteor Punches which broke against his armor in a breathtaking light show. Light sparkled everywhere. The spectators’ eyes reflected the glint.

When two men exchanged strikes, they glimpsed into each other’s psyche. All barriers fell during a physical confrontation. Jack could sense Hero’s soul—a haughty thing, arrogance fueled by true competence. All his life, he’d been the best, a lonely peak looking down on the world. His moral superiority against “evil-doers” shared its foundation with his skill superiority over his struggling competitors—and it was exactly that superiority which Jack threatened.

At first, Hero’s every strike felt disinterested, as if expecting to swat Jack away like a fly—a habit forged over a lifetime of excellence and a Dao built around it. Over time, however, Hero grew angry. Every strike was sharp now. His cold, handsome face turned fiercer, his mouth hardening into a straight line. It was imperceptible to most, but Jack, being so close and intimate, could see it clearly. R

“What’s the matter?” he taunted. “Is it hard to play hero when the other guy fights back?”

“What do you know about heroism?”

“Take a wild fucking guess.”

The greatsword fell from the sky, orbited by a thousand angry stars. Jack punched up. A purple storm erupted, the stars extinguished one-by-one with metallic sounds as his middle knuckle met blade.

Hero’s sword could cleave apart planets. If it touched a sun, the sun would be sliced in two. Jack’s knuckle, however, was something much harder. It was part of a universe, part of a whole, the apex of a fist clad in the highest natural laws. Unless Jack’s fist broke, his knuckle never would.

A terrible shockwave spread down, covering a wide astral area below Jack. At the same time, the aftermath of his fist flew up, sliced in two by Hero’s blade. The Archons of each army galvanized their powers to protect the onlookers as the Gods calmly watched on. Across the Spiral Stair galaxy, the clashes of Jack and Hero could be seen as pretty lights in the night sky.

But the battle ramped up still. Hero was an immovable mountain, armor and sword both standing at the peak. Jack was a force of nature, a fist calmly but firmly navigating the storm to strike the enemy.

With his cultivation fused into his body, teleporting was as natural as moving aside, the lines between the two blurred.

Attacking was the same. He’d fully digested his understandings, each strike flowing as a simple punch yet containing profound truths of the universe. He was a purple boxer in a river of silver, fighting against the current. Hero’s aura cascaded over Jack but did nothing, its level decidedly inferior to Jack’s established divinity. As for the greatsword, it was even more ineffective—all strikes had been blocked or dodged. So far, Hero had received hits, but Jack hadn’t. This infuriated the other man.

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The greatsword flew over Jack’s head, cutting a line in space. The void sundered for thousands of miles behind it. As Jack reared up to attack, one of Hero’s hands left the sword handle, following his own momentum to pivot into a fist which struck Jack’s chin. He flew back, somersaulting in mid-air.

“You punched me?” he asked with a grin, feeling his chin. “It would be funny to swap, but I don’t have a greatsword.”

“Silence, villain. No matter how strong you become, justice will always prevail. I must protect the people. If that means using less noble means than my sword, then so be it.”

Jack arched a brow. “You talk a lot, and you sure love spouting bullshit. Does it help ramp up your powers?”

“Poking for weaknesses? How suitable for someone like you.”

“I see,” Jack said, cracking a smile. “Your Dao is based on belief. You spin the narrative in your favor, then grow stronger the more you frame yourself as the hero.”

“I am the hero, little villain. You conspire with deranged cultists and dark gods. I work with the people of the universe, seventy-three galaxies standing behind my back. Tell me—who fights for the greater cause?”

“Your people of the universe are oppressed and enslaved,” Jack reminded him. “The Immortals and their System force them to kill each other, disregarding life to create soldiers.”

Hero snorted. “The world is always rife with struggle. People would kill each other regardless. Funneling that into creating soldiers is a necessary sacrifice to save the world from these false Gods you worship.”

A hint of anger radiated from the Gods sitting to the side, rattling the space between Jack and Hero. Neither seemed to care.

“You’re merely preying on the weak,” Jack said. “Your Immortals cannot even conceive the value of mortal life. We do. When your armies purged the Church from System space, how many innocent people did you kill? How many planets did you smite?”

Hero snorted again, a sound of clear derision. “You understand nothing,” he said. “Let justice prevail.”

***

Lord Longsword sat with his arms crossed and watched a broadcast playing on the big screen of his home faction. It had been a few decades since his foray into Trial Planet—his build had grown more mature and muscular, new scars decorating his face. His sword was even longer, hanging horizontal against his back and scaring the junior disciples to his sides.

After losing to Jack Rust, he’d worked harder than anyone and managed to reach the middle D-Grade after only a couple decades. He was even approaching the late D-Grade. The Elders hailed him as a genius and prepared him to be the new Faction Leader of the Wide Swirls faction.

All those achievements, however, felt like nothing. He saw, on the big screen, Jack Rust fighting for the title of the world’s greatest genius. They’d been on the same level twenty years ago, but now Longsword was nothing but an ant compared to Jack. The most humbling experience of his life.

Longsword, however, had matured over the past years. Instead of bursting with the anger of hurt pride, he smiled in self-deprecation. His fingers rubbed something in his pocket, from where a tiny giggle emerged.

“I’m just too inferior,” he muttered. “I hope you win, Jack Rust.”

***

Grand Elder Huali had arranged a viewing party. The entirety of the reborn Exploding Sun faction had gathered to watch Jack’s duel, and they’d even invited all neighboring factions, the Sun disciples not losing any opportunity to brag about how Jack had studied with them for a bit in the past. There were even a few people who’d met Jack personally, or even sparred with him!

Huali watched, her gaze glued to the large screen, her eyes moist with tears. “Show me the power of Supernova…” she whispered. Shol was beside her, deep in his proud drinking. He constantly laughed for no reason.

***

Back on Earth, there was no viewing screen to Jack’s duel. There couldn’t be, since they were outside System space. That didn’t mean they did nothing.

Jack had arranged a banquet with all his old friends. Only Vivi knew the true reason: if the main body perished, so would the clone, and he wanted it to be amongst true friends. Ebele was there too, as were Gan Salin, Nauja, Edgar, Harambe, Captain Dordok, Brother Tao... Even his mother was present—Margaret Rust, the professor, deep in her waning years. She must have suspected that something was going on, because she’d dragged herself out of her house for the first time in months to attend.

Wine and food were aplenty. They talked freely, exchanging stories, sharing their lives. Edgar talked about the development of his Academy—he’d grown a mustache and a beard, and had overall shifted into a look much more fitting for a Headmaster than his previous one. His voice now contained command and dignity.

Jack sat back and enjoyed the pleasant atmosphere. He knew there was a decent chance he’d collapse before the end of this banquet. He might as well enjoy it.

And, if the unfortunate truly happened, he’d make sure to teleport away in time. Wouldn’t want to traumatize Ebele.

***

Hero charged, but Jack took a moment to grin before retaliating. His perception was sharp now, and he sensed the small but noticeable shudder in Hero’s aura. That was a weakness of belief-based Daos—when founded on unsteady ground, all it took to shake them was a bit of Dao debate. It was the same trick he’d sometimes used against the leonines of the Animal Kingdom—and, if Hero had bothered to research Jack’s background, he’d know that to engage in mid-battle trash-talk with him was suicide.

Or maybe he had, and he was just overconfident.

Seeing Hero’s approach, trailing the silver metallic aura of justice, Jack clenched his fist. Sparks rose from across his body. The Thunderbody technique was unusable now that he’d changed the fundamental nature of his body, but he’d been able to derive a new version based on the old one. Every spark that rose from his skin contained tiny stars, the essences of Jack’s inner astral space. It would temporarily lower the energy density of his inner universe, delaying the progress of its cultivators, but it didn’t matter. He’d make up for it later. This war was the convergence of everything, and he had to win.

He could have also used the Life Drop, but its energy reserves were still low, so he wanted to save it for when truly necessary.

Hero flashed above Jack, sword raised and poised to strike. His red cape fluttered. He brought the blade down hard. “Divine Justice!” he shouted.

Jack was done playing. His aura erupted as he drove up a fist, the world compressed inside it to the point of eruption. “Supernova!”

Hero’s sword was washed away. A terrifying explosion filled the world, somewhat comparable to a real supernova, forcing the onlookers to turn away. For a moment, a new star appeared in the galaxy, brighter than any other.

By the time the spectators could look at the battle again, they found Hero flung away, his silver armor blackened at the front. Terrible wrath filled his face, while his flowing golden hair was singed at the ends. Before he could re-engage, Jack appeared in front of him, clad in purple lightning. His fist rolled forth. Hero’s armor cracked as he flew back again, bright blood trailing his open mouth.

Jack used the overwhelming speed granted by his version of Thunderbody to flash around Hero, mercilessly pummeling him. He cracked a knee at the back of his armor, sending him flying upward, then smashed a fist into his chest from above. More punches landed, Hero’s trajectory turning erratic. He was spinning in space, having lost all sense of direction, his mind shaking from the impacts. As he guarded his head and looked around, he saw a storm of meteors heading at him from all directions. He screamed as they landed.

The Heaven Immortal and the Gods looked on, transfixed. Hero was one of the greatest geniuses in the history of the cultivation world, assisted by every resource the Immortals could muster. Yet, here he was, losing to someone two small realms below him. This was historic.

“What a shame,” the Heaven Immortal muttered. His voice was electric. “If only we’d found him first, the Crusade would be over. Now he must die.”

The Gods didn’t make a sound, though they rapidly discussed amongst themselves. As for the Church army, they clenched their fists, inspired by the sight before them. Their champion was winning. They were no longer forced to hide in the shadows—thanks to Jack, they were able to step in the open, brazenly facing the Immortals with their heads held high.

Heavenly Spoon, Min Ling, Starhair, Strawpin, and Fiend Prince all had looks of admiration on their faces. Only Brock remained calm, used to his brother’s feats of overwhelming strength. As for Boatman, he slowly shook his head. “The new overcomes the old…” he muttered.

“Your disciple has surpassed you, Boatman, but that is cause for celebration,” the Arch Priestess replied, unable to hide her pride. “In fact, he might have even surpassed me. He still hasn’t activated his four-armed battle form, but he can fight at the level of a weaker Archon.”

“I wouldn’t say that. As far as I can tell, the influence of his battle form should have decreased after Jack’s recent breakthroughs. It wouldn’t make much of a difference.”

“Hmm. Perhaps you’re right.”

On the Immortals’ side, an Archon leaned close to the Heaven Immortal’s head. The robot possessed no ears, but whispering was a universal gesture. “Should we attack, sir?” he asked.

“No,” the Heaven Immortal replied. “Hero is not done yet.”