Road to Mastery: A LitRPG Apocalypse

Trial Planet Token…

He had no idea what that was. It sounded like a random trinket he couldn’t use. Maybe he’d get cheated if he sold it now, but he could at least appraise it or ask what it was. He took it out of his pocket; it seemed like an old gold coin.

“I have this,” he said. “What do you think it’s worth?”

“Hmm?”

Ar’Tazul looked down. He inspected the coin in Jack’s hand, then froze. His eyes widened, his professional smile fell for the first time, and he released a gasp.

“That’s a Trial Planet Token!” he shouted out loud. “How did you get that? Can I see?”

“That’s my business, and no.” Jack got defensive. He put it back in his pocket. “What is it?”

“Extremely precious, that’s what it is.”

Ar’Tazul regained his bearing, coughing in his blue hand once and rubbing his beard. He finally took Jack seriously. “I can give you 10,000 credits for that one. It’s a useless item to you, but invaluable to many people throughout the galaxy.”

“I see. Well, I’ll hold on to it for now. Let’s discuss it again later.”

Jack wasn’t a fool. He was absolutely sure that Ar’Tazul was trying to cheat him, even though the price sounded high.

Ar’Tazul seemed to hesitate, then moved a little closer.

“Listen, my friend—Jack. Listen, Jack. I understand you think I’m cheating you; and okay, it’s not entirely false. I’m a merchant. I have to make a living. 10,000 is a good price for me, but we can discuss it. That’s not the issue. The issue is that, if people find out that an F-Grade cultivator has a Trial Planet Token, they won’t hesitate to kill you for it. Let’s try to work out a good deal and everyone will be happy. I’ll get my profit, and you’ll get a decent profit plus your personal safety, which is priceless. Otherwise, when news spread…”

Jack frowned. “Oh, yeah? And how would news spread?”

“Well, I might have accidentally raised my voice before.”

Jack blinked, then looked around. A large crowd had already formed, only a few dozen feet away from him. When Ar’Tazul had shouted out, “that’s a trial planet token!” before, everyone must have heard him.

The blood got to Jack’s head. He pointed at the merchant.

“You tricked me,” he said grimly.

“It was an honest accident. Could happen to anyone.” Ar’Tazul shrugged apologetically. “By the way, acting violently against merchants is prohibited by the Merchant Union, a C-Grade faction.”

Jack stared with severe irritation. Showing that coin had been a big mistake. Suddenly, he missed his dungeon, where he could punch things with no regard for merchants or unions. Civilization sucked. “Who will they even tell?" he argued. "I’m about to kick the town boss’s ass, anyway.”

“They won’t. But, well…” Ar’Tazul looked to the side. “I am an information merchant, so…”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Hey, it’s my job. I told you before; everything I learn is public knowledge unless we agree on a confidentiality term.”

Jack was speechless. This guy was trying to con him. Maybe the coin meant nothing at all! But could he take the risk?

He frowned. If only he could punch this guy…but he was an E-Grade alien with unknown abilities and a C-Grade organization as his backing. At this point, Jack could only grit his teeth and admit he’d been conned. “How much?” he asked.

“How much for what?”

“The confidentiality term.”

“Oh, that? Only a thousand credits.”

Jack almost exploded. He really was about to punch the merchant, and damned be the consequences. “You know I don’t have that much,” he roared.

“Sorry, kid. I really want that coin.”

“Well, fuck you. I’m not giving you shit.”

His raging, bare-chested, muscular form towered over the little merchant, but he didn't seem to mind.

“That’s a dangerous call,” Ar'Tazul replied.

“I don’t fucking care. You can take that confidentiality term and shove it up your blue ass.”

“Okay, I understand we got off the wrong foot here.” Ar’Tazul took a step back. “Tell you what. Keep the coin, and I’ll keep my mouth shut for a week. Until then, you can buy the thousand-credit confidentiality term whenever you like.”

“That’s bullshit. Why should I trust you?”

“Because I’m not asking for anything. This is called customer loyalty, kid. That coin is very, very precious, but I see you’re determined to keep it. That’s fine. Even if I got it, I'd only get a tiny cut of its true value myself. Instead, I want to foster a good relationship with you. You’re way ahead of the power curve. If you continue like this, you might even do well in the Integration Tournament, and I’m your resident merchant. A good relationship will be to both our benefits; maybe even more than a single Trial Planet Token.”

Jack narrowed his eyes, peering all the way to the merchant's soul; he saw nothing. “You’re lying,” he finally said.

“I can’t do much to convince you,” Ar’Tazul said, completely calm in the face of Jack’s outrage. “But my promise stands. I’ll keep my mouth shut for a week—unless you die, of course—but you better hurry. Everyone here heard me, so you never know who the news might reach.”

Jack took a deep breath, calming down a bit. This situation was potentially dangerous. He had to handle it well.

When his eyes reopened, they were sharp. “Give me information on the token,” he said.

“What?”

“Information on the token. Free of charge. You said you want to forge a good relationship, right? Start by helping me understand the deal you’re offering.”

Now, it was Ar’Tazul’s turn to think. Finally, he relented. “Fine,” he said. Reaching into the crate by his feet, he retrieved another information crystal. “Here. This is yours. A gift.”

Jack snatched it and put it in his pocket. “Good. I’ll consider things again later and come back to you, Ar’Tazul.”

“Tazul.”

“What?”

The merchant smiled, revealing a perfect set of teeth. “Friends and good customers can call me Tazul. No need to be formal, Jack.”

“I am not your friend.”

“But you are a good customer.”

“Whatever.”

Jack was in no mood to talk right now. He first wanted to vent his frustration, and coincidentally, the perfect targets waited just around the corner.

Before that, however, he turned around to survey the crowd. News of him killing Hugo and marching at Henry’s Fang had spread already, and throngs of people congregated to watch from a distance. They knew that shit was going down. Some supported him, some hated him. He only cared for the former.

“People of Valville,” he roared, instantly quieting all murmurs. He wasn’t used to such big crowds—he’d only lectured small groups of university students a few times—but the anger helped him overcome social anxiety. “Henry’s Fang is a gang of hoodlums. They dared touch my mother. I will destroy them, disband their faction, and punish their leaders. I can do it by myself, but I know they’ve been suppressing and terrorizing you. If you want to get revenge, now is the time. Is there anyone brave enough to join me?”

His speech was short, direct, and shocking. The first rows stared at him with wide eyes—so did the back rows, probably, but he couldn’t see them. Behind him, Ar’Tazul had an amused smile.

Jack didn’t need help to defeat the gang. However, when the dust settled, he would need people at his side, people who were both capable and trustworthy. People who would join his faction, the Bare Fist Brotherhood, and help him protect both Valville and the Forest of the Strong.

In short, he would need allies. This was a perfect opportunity. Whoever stepped forth now and fought by his side would be both capable and trustworthy.

Jack had hatched this plan on the way, and he was quite proud of it.

However, even after waiting for half a minute, nobody stepped up. Nobody took Jack’s offer. He frowned; did they not believe him? Even if they didn’t, wasn’t there anyone willing to risk his or her life for revenge?

Jack waited another half minute. Then, he shook his head, sighed in disappointment, and turned to leave.

“Wait!”

A single man squeezed through the crowd and stepped into the square. He was slim, young, bespectacled, and seemingly average in every respect. His messy dark hair and brown eyes would never stand out in a crowd, and his slightly hunched posture didn’t scream ‘special’ either.

He was just your average joe—but his heart was in the right place. He, alone, had accepted Jack’s offer. Jack smiled.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“I’m Edgar!” the man replied, panting slightly. “A wizard.”

Jack’s smile widened. He inspected the guy.

Human (Earth-387), Level 11

Faction: -

That Level was enough to pique Jack’s curiosity. “A wizard?” he asked.

“Yeah. I can shoot fire and stuff.”

Edgar whispered something under his breath, then aimed a hand at the sky. A fireball burst out of his palm and flew two dozen feet before dissolving.

Jack’s eyes widened. He’d seen System stuff before, but this was real, honest-to-God fantasy magic!

“Damn, man,” he said, “you’re in!”

Edgar approached and reached out for a handshake. “Cool.”

“I’m Jack, by the way. Jack Rust. Why do you hate these guys?”

“They killed my parents.”

“Oh.”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds. We were on terrible terms.” Edgar shrugged. “But they were still my parents, so I have to take revenge. Even if they sucked most of the time.”

“Yeah… Okay, hold it. How about we go through the battle first, and you can tell me your personal issues afterwards if we both survive?”

“Sure.”

“Alright. I’ll go on ahead; when I start bashing heads, you come in finger guns blazing and handle the stragglers.”

“Works for me.” Edgar smiled. Jack smiled back, realizing he’d forgotten his previous anger.

What an easygoing guy…

“See you there,” Jack said, then turned to the merchant. “And I hope I don’t see you ever again, Ar'Tazul.”

“I’m your resident merchant, friend. I’m the only one here. You’re going to see lots and lots of me if you survive.” Ar’Tazul smiled widely and waved goodbye. “Take care.”

Jack cursed under his breath and took off. He ran to the edge of the square. Then, under the wide eyes of everyone watching, he jumped on a second-story rooftop. Valville Hotel was only a street away. Hopping from rooftop to rooftop, Jack got there in a moment, then jumped on the hotel. It had three stories, meaning he stood dozens of feet high.

A wide wooden courtyard stretched below him; it was clean, simple, and filled with roughly thirty people. Most were armed goons, but a few wore trenchcoats and seemed to hold themselves straighter. Everyone was busy lounging by a pool, talking to each other, drinking, or playing poker.

In the center of everything, a dark-skinned man in a white suit sat at a poker table, gambling away an obscene amount of chips. Beside him rested a japanese sword—a katana.

They hadn’t noticed Jack yet. In fact, as he watched them from above, they seemed too relaxed. They probably thought he was still in the square—or, maybe, they didn’t even know he was coming. Hugo had done them dirty by not warning them.

It mattered little. He inspected his status screen, taking in all those pretty, pretty numbers.

Name: Jack Rust

Species: Human, Earth-387

Faction: Bare Fist Brotherhood

Grade: F

Class: Pugilist (Elite)

Level: 34

Strength: 97

Dexterity: 97

Constitution: 97

Mental: 9

Will: 7

Skills: Fistfighting (III), Drill (II), Pugilist Body (II)

Dao Skills: Meteor Punch (I)

Titles: Planetary Frontrunner (10)

Jack grinned, bumped his fists together to ramp himself up, then roared, “Henry White! Get your ass out here!”