Road to Mastery: A LitRPG Apocalypse

Great Silver and Fiend King hovered on two sides of the pyramid. Powerful enchantments kept them hidden, intricate enough that even Jack had failed to detect them. Of course, the Overlords didn’t care about some disciples—the enchantments were meant to hide them from wandering native monsters, which, contrary to Jack’s assumptions about the sanctity of this place, could and did pass by.

The Overlords weren’t just standing around. A massive ring of power circled the pyramid, passing through them and getting amplified. The dark mist above them roiled—a faint light came from the flat top of the pyramid, very slowly getting brighter. Thanks to the hiding enchantment, all these were invisible unless someone flew high up.

“Did you notice?” Fiend King asked. “That new disciple of yours almost noticed the enchantment.”

“He specializes in Space,” Great Silver replied casually. “A faint intuition is to be expected.”

“Hmm. All the Elders were missing. How did they get caught, while the disciples escaped?”

“Bad luck. Do you want to focus on this or that?”

Fiend King snorted. “I thought you could meditate and talk at the same time?”

“We cannot afford any distractions. Doing this without a third Overlord is hard—if we don’t devote our full attention, the ritual could go awry, and fifty million years of preparation will amount to nothing.”

“Fine,” Fiend King exclaimed, closing his eyes and focusing entirely on the ongoing ritual. Great Silver did the same. To them, the disciples entering the pyramid were entirely inconsequential—what they were working on was far grander than a few hopeful upstarts. The only reason they’d asked the Elders to delay the disciples’ arrival was to protect them in case the pyramid ended up exploding—but interrupting the ritual to warn them now was not a price they could afford to pay.

The two Overlords hovered before two of the pyramid’s three sides. The third was taken up by a twelve-foot-tall totem pole, containing twelve rings depicting various monsters. Each exuded the faint aura of an Overlord. The ring of power passed through the totem as it did through the Elders, slowly sapping its energy. The light from the pyramid’s top grew ever brighter.

***

Three large statues formed a triangle around the pyramid. One depicted a massive, tentacled sphere. The other two were humanoid, except their faces were featureless and the texture of their bodies odd, as if their skin was rippling.

Another eight statues, smaller in size, surrounded them in an octagon shape. Most were humanoid, with distinctive features—one was made of spheres, another also of spheres but smaller, a third was made of what seemed like fire…

After the first few statues, Jack didn’t need to look anymore. The space monsters may not have known what these statues depicted, but he certainly did. The Old Gods. Eleven of them, with the exception of Enas.

He looked down, where the statues met the stone island. They were one and the same, the stone simply extending upward. That indicated the statues had never moved. They’d been created like this, in perfect harmony, which meant there was never a statue of Enas here. The statues had been made after the Old God of Life had been tossed into a black hole.

What’s the meaning of this? Jack wondered. Did the other Old Gods create space monsters after the First Crusade? That makes no sense. This world and the Dark Canal are older than a billion years—both were created before Enas’s imprisonment. Why is there no statue of him?

Could there have been a statue, but after his imprisonment, the other Old Gods came here, took down all the previous statues, and recreated eleven of them anew? That’s just too tedious.

Why would the Old Gods create the Space Monster World, anyway?

He could begrudgingly accept that. The creation of the Space Monster World, as well as its entrance seal which prevented A-Grades from entering, was too grand a project. People suspected its creator had surpassed the Archon realm, but if it was multiple Old Gods working together, then it could be explained.

But why? And why did the pyramid door portray a monster feasting on an Ancient?

“Let’s go in!” Strawpin said, too excited to wait. She was basically skipping from foot to foot.

“Right,” Jack replied, snapping out of his thoughts. “Let’s go.” And everything should be clear by the time we exit.

The large group put the statues behind them and gathered before the pyramid door—looking tiny in comparison.

“How do we open it?” Jack asked, looking up.

“We don’t,” an older disciple replied. “We just go in, like this.” He put a palm against the door and immediately disappeared. Jack perceived the familiar ripple of energy—this was short-range teleportation. He shook his head, then followed the disciple. Everyone did. 𐍂ãŊȫΒΕ𝘚

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They reappeared in a towering hall. Thick columns of brown stone held up the mile-high ceiling, while engraved on them were the visages of fierce monsters preying on Ancients—or, more rarely, each other. There was a certain timeless air to this place—the weight of endless years pressing down on Jack’s shoulders.

“Is this the first floor?” he asked. The others nodded.

“The first floor is the minimum result one can achieve,” Strawpin explained. While she hadn’t come here before, she’d read about the Hall of Trials extensively. “It is also where we receive the tests to judge our potential. After this, everyone can visit their respective floors to enjoy the rewards.”

Jack nodded. There was no door to this hall, only walls, but he supposed teleportation served a pyramid well. After all, forcing peak B-Grades to walk up stairs felt a bit too humbling. Flying up, on the other hand, would be too easy.

“And what exactly are these tests?” he asked.

She smiled at him. “Come and see.”

The large hall they were in was devoid of furniture. It wasn’t completely empty, however. In the very middle stood a bronze steele. It rose twenty feet into the air—so not particularly high—and its surface was covered in tiny inscriptions. At the very top of the steele, three names were written in a larger font, each containing the writing style of its holder.

“Eternal Radiance, Progenitor, Rainbow…” Jack read aloud. “Who are these people?”

“The only three monsters to ever reach the sixth floor,” Fiend Prince replied, his usual recklessness replaced with reverence. “As for the names below them, they belong to people who reached the fifth floor.”

Jack gazed at the steele again. It reminded him of the old Cathedral’s ranking obelisk, yet impossibly grander in meaning. It was possible that, from the people who populated the ranking obelisk, only the very apex geniuses like Min Ling would have the qualifications to even appear on this steele, let alone reaching the top tier.

It was the entire history of excellence of the Space Monster World, compressed to a space only twenty feet across.

Jack looked up again. The three larger names dominated the top of the steele, their superiority evident.

Eternal Radiance, Progenitor, Rainbow… Jack repeated in his head, committing the names to memory. Their font wasn’t the same neutral one as in the names below. It appeared that each of these people had earned the right to personally inscribe their names, thus demonstrating their writing style for the future generations.

Eternal Radiance wrote in confident, straight, deep swipes. An absolute sovereign. Progenitor wrote in jagged, short lines, as if too busy doing other things to inscribe on the stele properly, while Rainbow’s letters were elegant and pretty, yet containing undeniable momentum.

Just glancing at the names, Jack felt he had a good idea of the people they represented. He yearned to inscribe his own—what would it look like?

“How often does someone reach the fifth floor?” Starhair asked, focusing on the host of smaller names below.

“You’re thinking to gauge the length of time this stele has existed based on the number of names,” Fiend Prince said. “A good idea, though you’re barely the first. Delves happen once every thousand years, but nobody reaches the fifth floor usually. Maybe once every ten delves?”

“I thought you and Strawpin both aimed for the fifth floor?” Starhair asked.

“We’re exceptions. It’s uncommon for two geniuses this great to be born close together. Strawpin and I both stand head and shoulders above our peers.”

Said peers stood right next to him, but he didn’t seem to care.

“I count tens of thousands of names,” Jack said, quickly skimming the stele. There were only three names at the very top, each comfortably resting in its own space, yet the smaller names below were tiny and nestled tightly against each other. Three versus tens of thousands—the disparity between the fifth and sixth floor was staggering.

“It’s close to a hundred thousand,” Strawpin said.

Starhair did the calculations. “With an average of one person every ten thousand years, this means the stele has stood for a billion years. That can’t be right. I thought it was longer.”

“You’re right. The names are automatically wiped off the stele one billion years after they were first inscribed. Your calculation is pointless.”

“...You could have led with this.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” Strawpin replied, her previous stricter attitude having melted away. It only appeared when she was in charge.

“Does the same happen for the sixth floor names?” Jack asked.

Fiend Prince shook his head. “We’re not sure. We do know that they last more than a billion years—Overlord Eternal Radiance, for example, was a legendary figure from two billion years ago. However, it’s possible those names are also wiped, just on a longer cycle. We’ve never seen one disappear yet.”

“I see…” Jack muttered. The disparity was even greater than he’d expected. He’d been certain he could reach the sixth floor easily, but now it was beginning to look like a bit of a challenge.

He suddenly realized something. If this stele recorded the names of everyone who’d reached the top floors, it was possible that their results in the so-called tests were also recorded. Jack could test himself against not just the geniuses of the present, but also the greatest geniuses in history—an entirely different level.

The fire of competition burned in his belly. He couldn’t wait.

“How do we enter the tests?” he asked.

“Simple,” Strawpin said. “You touch that other stele over there.”

She circled the large bronze stele, stepping behind it. Jack followed her to find a second stele, originally hidden by the first. This one was made of silver and much smaller—only reaching nine feet in height and three in width. It was empty.

“The tests all take place in a separate space, so we cannot observe others directly,” Fiend Prince took over explaining. “However, everyone’s results for each test will appear on this stele. It is also the entry point—just touch it and you’ll be teleported over.”

Jack observed the stele again. While empty, he did notice two vertical lines on it, splitting it into three identical sections. Three tests, then? He grinned. Bring it on.

He looked behind him, searching for the eyes of his brother. He found them easily. The same fire burned in them as it did in his. “See you at the top, brother,” he said, unable to contain his grin.

“Damn right, big bro,” Brock said. He walked beside Jack, and, at the same time, the two reached out to touch the stele and disappeared. Jack noticed he could have resisted the spatial pull, but he obviously chose not to.

Half of the other disciples, including Starhair, Strawpin, and Fiend Prince, did the same. The only ones left were those who’d been here before. Each person could only attempt the test once in their lifetimes, and the result was locked in forever. These monsters were only here to reenter the same floor as last time and continue reaping the benefits.

However, there was no rush in that. The Canal Delve would continue for many years, and this test only took a few hours.

The remaining disciples sat on the ground, eagerly discussing the others’ expected results. First they’d watch, then they’d cultivate—otherwise, they would be no fun.

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