Road to Mastery: A LitRPG Apocalypse

Jack struggled to find his breath. Across from him, the automaton waited. “Are you ready to proceed?” it asked.

“Wait!” Jack said. “You called my test result Eternal. What does that mean?”

“It is the highest possible classification. Congratulations!”

“When was the last time someone got that result?”

“I cannot divulge that.”

“...Fine.” Jack stood up, his regeneration already working wonders for his stamina. The hall, though small, seemed to have infinite ambient Dao. His perception caught it streaming in from the corners. “Before this test began, you said there were some things you couldn’t reveal unless I got the appropriate results.”

“That’s right.”

“Then tell me now. Who built this place? Was it the Old Gods depicted in the statues outside?”

The robot hesitated for a moment. “I do not understand the question,” it finally said. “The Hall of Trials was constructed by our Gods. They are the ones depicted outside. However, while they have certainly existed for a long time, calling them old is unsuitable.”

“The Gods constructed the Hall of Trials to assist the future generations of monsters. Their intention was to establish a cultivation civilization able to expand with each generation, so it could stand firm against the enemy when the time came.”

“The enemy?” Jack asked. “What enemy?”

The automaton paused. “It is time for the next test,” it said in a more mechanical tone.

Jack dusted himself off. He cracked his neck and flexed his fingers, taking in the wide room around him. His previous Dao battle against the shadow had been ephemeral, yet had still created physical shockwaves. The hall, however, remained pristine.

With a better idea of the tests’ difficulty, Jack wondered if death was possible. Strawpin and Fiend Prince hadn’t mentioned anything of the sort, but maybe it was completely natural to them, death being such a core part of the Space Monster World.

Jack took a deep breath. I wonder how Brock is doing… he thought wistfully. Can he reach my results? Can I reach his?

In a sense, this was the first time the two bros were in direct competition. Jack really looked forward to the result.

“I’m ready,” he said.

“Good,” the automaton replied. “The second test concerns your willpower and resolve to pursue the peak. It is not adjusted to your cultivation. It is also endless, so please give up whenever you feel you’ve had enough. To begin, please stand in the middle of the room.”

***

The first test could be shorter or longer depending on the participant’s attainments in the Dao. As a result, in the time it took Jack to finish battling the shadow, some weaker monsters had already proceeded past even the second test.

The monsters seated outside the tests, the ones who’d come here before, discussed excitedly as they surveyed the silver stele.

“Look!” one of them cried out. “Another person finished the second test; another Talented assessment.”

“At least it wasn’t Average!” another monster said, leading to a wide chorus of laughter.

Names already littered the stele. It was split into three columns, where the results of each participants would appear, one test per column. The first already contained eight names—everyone except Brock and Jack Monstrous had finished. Most had achieved the Talented classification, while a poor two people only got Average. These last ones were the target of the other monsters’ ridicule. It didn’t mean their final results would be inferior to others—after all, this was just one of three tests—but, amongst elites, every hint of weakness was worth some ridicule.

There were also some pleasant surprises. Strawpin and Starhair had both achieved the Genius classification. If they could maintain that result for the other two tests as well, they’d be able to enter the fifth floor of the Hall of Trials—a feat usually seen once every ten thousand years. For two people to enter the fifth floor at the same time was an extremely rare occasion, not to mention that Fiend Prince was still in the game—the Dao was his weak point, so it was expected he’d only achieved a Talented assessment on the first test. He only needed two Genius assessments to reach the fifth floor. РÄƝỔᛒΕs̈

However, even that wasn’t enough to occupy the spectating monsters’ minds. They looked forward to two things only. Jack Monstrous and Brock, those impossibly extreme talents… Could they really achieve the legendary sixth floor? The one which had opened only three times in the entire history of the world?

They chatted to pass the time, but everyone snuck glances at the stele, eager to watch history being made.

“Look!” someone cried out, drawing everyone’s attention. “Brock’s results are out!”

Every monster turned to the stele. At the very top of the first column, burning golden and pushing every other name down a position, was the name of Brock along with his classification.

“Eternal?” a monster said with puzzlement. “What’s that?”

“Wasn’t it supposed to be Prime Genius?” another asked, rubbing its chin.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“What’s going on? Is the stele broken?”

“You idiots!” another monster cried out, shivering with excitement. This was a disciple of the Great Silver faction, a monster who’d been bebro’d by Brock before. “Don’t you realize what this means? Big bro Brock surpassed the Prime Genius classification! He reached another level above iyt which we didn’t even know existed!”

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The remaining three bro monsters agreed. The others, however, only glanced at each other. “That’s impossible,” one of them said. “There is no higher classification. Prime Genius corresponds to the sixth and final floor, everyone knows that. It’s more likely that the Hall of Trials changed the name, or that it was miscommunicated by our ancestors. After all, it’s been a hundred million years since the last time—the language changes, so it’s not impossible for some words to have changed their meaning.”

“Are you an idiot?” the first bro monster argued. “Prime Genius and Eternal don’t even sound alike. Do you think the Hall of Trials is a place where names can change randomly?

“Mind your tongue, friend, or you might find it severed,” the insulted monster replied, quick to get feisty.

“Oh yeah!?” the bro monster stepped up, puffing its chest. The two began to approach each other but were caught off by another excited shout.

“Jack Monstrous’s result is out too! Wait… Who’s Jack Rust? Are they the same person?”

Every monster turned to look at the stele. A second name of burning gold had appeared, overtaking Brock’s to occupy the very top of the column: Jack Rust, Eternal!

“Probably an alias,” some monster muttered. “I don’t imagine it matters. The important part is, he surpassed Brock!”

“The two results appeared almost together,” a bro monster said. “They couldn’t have been too far apart. Look—both got this Eternal classification.”

“See?” the insulted monster from before said smugly, the previous fight all but forgotten. “If Eternal was a higher classification never before achieved, do you think it could appear twice?”

“Why not? Both those monsters were awesome.”

“Let’s just wait and see,” said a slightly older monster, eyes trained on the stele. Its eyes were shaking. “I suspect that, no matter what… We’re about to experience history!”

***

Jack stood in the middle of the hall, taking deep but even breaths. “Well?” he asked. “When is the second test starting?”

“In three,” the automaton replied.

“Three what?”

“Two. One. Begin.”

Jack wanted to cry out at the absurdity but didn’t have the time. A massive weight landed squarely on his head. He suffered a headache stronger than anything he’d imagined possible, a giant with spiked shoes jumping up and down on the soft matter of his brain.

He yelled and almost tumbled to the ground but kept his balance. His eyes were bloodshot.

“Fuck you,” he muttered. “This is nothing.”

The pain intensified. Through it, he could barely sense the ambient Dao converging from across the hall, stuffing itself through his ears. His body’s balancing functions weren’t working. He was overdosing on Dao.

The stomping giant was joined by a second, then a third. Spikes drove themselves through Jack’s brain. He could feel himself hemorrhaging. Is this killing me? he wondered.

However, after the initial shock passed, this tremendous pain wasn’t unbeatable. He’d been through worse. Even the absorption of the overlord core, which he’d endured for three years, had been worse than this.

Some time later, a new sensation joined the party. As Jack’s brain was still slowly cracking apart—or so he thought, but couldn’t be sure it wasn’t an illusion—his body caught on fire. Literally. He saw flames jumping out of his skin, purple and white, singing him from the inside out. He felt them consume his tempered body slowly, like he was aged wood, letting him experience the burning for a longer time.

This is fake, he realized. I can’t be burning. It’s an illusion.

There were tiny signs. The dance of the flames was off, the heat pulsing at slightly irregular intervals. These were imperfections made on purpose. Whoever crafted this illusion wanted Jack to figure out it was fake—but only if he could maintain his composure through the extreme pain. Otherwise, the rising panic and suffering would quickly culminate in him failing.

Now that he knew the damage wasn’t real, Jack was no longer afraid. “Bring it on!” he roared.

The pain spread to his soul. He could feel it cracking, like an apple which someone grabbed and slowly tore in half. His life’s work sputtered out like fruit juices—all the connections he’d made were ripped apart one by one. This was agony on another level. Jack could endure mental and physical pain because those were limited by the constraints of reality, but the pain of the soul was a different beast, expanding to fill its container. It was potentially infinite in intensity, and this test was set to prove it, slowly but surely ramping up.

Jack clenched his teeth so hard they hurt. Even now, this wasn’t nearly the worst he’d ever experienced. When he’d absorbed the Life Drop, it had forcibly ripped apart his soul to enter and knitted it back together. That pain still haunted him.

He wouldn’t give up. This trial would help him save himself, his family, his planet, and his universe. He was determined to win.

Jack had lost track of time. After a while, the pain spiked again. He fell to his knees, unable to hold it in. Minutes passed. It felt like hell. This really was similar to the Life Drop’s suffering—a pain hard to put into words, one which even Jack could barely handle. He suspected that, if it shot up again, he might fail. His weakness surprised him—though any sane person would have long given up. He’d even lost the ability to think clearly.

All that kept Jack going was sheer, instinctive stubbornness.

At the next spike of difficulty, the pain didn’t change. Instead, a new dimension was added in. Jack found himself suffering alongside his family. They were in burning vats of oil—no matter how he reminded himself it was fake, his heart was in agony. His splitting soul dripped blood.

Jack didn’t know how long that stage lasted, nor how he made it through. By the end, he was mentally and psychologically wrung out. Nobody could persist forever. Not him. Not anyone.

When the world blinked again to enter the next level of this twisted trial, Jack was almost relieved to find that only the extreme pain remained. The images of his family were gone. To his horror, however, he found Eric standing in front of him—his son, who had died because of Jack’s weakness. Had been murdered right in front of him.

“No…” Jack muttered. He had already been on his knees—now, he leaned his head forward until his forehead touched the floor. He couldn’t bear to look. Eric was just standing there, but whatever came next would no doubt be terrible.

This trial was infinite, the automaton had said so. Jack hoped he’d already won. “Enough…” he groaned, his voice raspy and tired.

Everything winked out. The pain, the fire, his splitting soul. In one disorienting instant, he was just himself, resting on the floor in memory of his agony. He collapsed, quivering on the floor. He’d always prided himself in his willpower, but this had been too much. Everyone had a limit. Even Jack. He didn’t know what his result was yet, but he felt he’d aged by at least a hundred years. This was yet another scar which would never go away.

Power came at a price. Always.

An indeterminate amount of time later, Jack finally forced himself to his feet, pushing a fist against the floor. He looked straight at the robot and walked over. “How did I do?” he asked, his voice hard.

“Whatever your result, please give yourself time to rest,” the automaton replied, clearly parroting a speech it had been given long ago. “This test was designed to push you to your limit. It was infinite. At whichever point you gave up, don’t consider it a personal failure—and, most importantly, don’t let it scar you.”

“How did I do?” Jack repeated, his tone even harder.

The automaton paused, gears whirring from some unseen place. “Willpower test result… Eternal!”

“Good,” Jack said, smashing his fist into its chest. He didn’t hold back. An explosion occurred, blasting a crater into the wall while the automaton itself exploded, shattered in pieces of cogs, gears, and wayward flesh. Jack eyed the destruction. “Fuck you,” he said. “That was not necessary. Fuck you.”

The hall shook. Jack looked around, his hard gaze scanning every corner, every column. “What are you angry for?” he shouted at the walls. “Did you not expect this after pushing me to my limit? I know the pattern anyway. The last trial is always combat. Bring it on!”

He did not wait, smashing a Meteor Punch against another wall. The entire room shook. Jack had too much anger inside him which needed venting. He roared again, “Bring it on!”

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