Road to Mastery: A LitRPG Apocalypse

“There are three major factions on the planet right now,” said Ar’Tazul, pacing back and forth before the fountain. Electricity had returned to Valville after they’d repaired the nearby power station, and the fountain’s waters jumped high and glistened in the light of a setting sun. Jack and Edgar watched Ar’Tazul with rapt attention. They’d just bought the “Major Factions of Earth” information package.

“The first is called Flame River. It is a faction led by Vivi Eragorn on the native continent of Africa. They conquered the F-Grade dungeon ‘Sunny Savannah.’

“The second is called Ice Peak. It is led by Alexander Petrovic in northeastern Europe, and they conquered the F-Grade dungeon ‘Iceberg Palace.’

“The third”—Ar’Tazul turned to Jack and grinned— “is the Bare Fist Brotherhood. Led by Jack Rust in North America, they conquered the F-Grade dungeon ‘Forest of the Strong.’”

“Wait,” Jack interrupted, “we’re one of the major factions of Earth?”

“Only three factions have conquered an F-Grade dungeon so far, and you’re one of them,” Ar’Tazul replied with a smirk. “Of course, these major factions aren’t the only ones you should keep an eye on. Not many people were lucky enough to have a dungeon nearby—there are only 1,111 on the entire planet, after all. Moreover, dungeons are usually accompanied by fierce infighting. There are plenty of factions strong enough to conquer dungeons in east Asia, for example, but they’re busy fighting each other instead.”

“I see,” Edgar mumbled.

“Finally, though it pains me to say it, our information network isn’t perfect yet. The System only gives information about factions. There were another four F-Grade dungeons conquered, but the ones responsible either weren’t part of a faction or chose not to assimilate the dungeon into their territory.”

Jack nodded. “So, the Integration Tournament will be full of monsters.”

“Essentially, yes. I suggest finding a guide when you get there. They will know stuff that hasn’t reached the official channels yet, and they can help you avoid all sorts of trouble.”

“We’ll keep that in mind, Tazul. I bet we’ll find a cousin of yours waiting for us.”

The little blue merchant smiled under his beard. “What a coincidence. I do have one, yes. His name is Ar’Karvahul; tell him my name and he’ll take good care of you.”

Jack rolled his eyes.

“What about the five scions?” the professor asked, stepping forth. “We’ve heard rumors about them. Aren’t they included in your ‘major factions’ information package?”

“Sadly, no.” Tazul shook his head. “They are not a faction. I’ve only heard rumors myself… There could be some more specific information about them, but it will be costly. You know, supply and demand. Should I look it up?”

“Please do.”

Ar’Tazul nodded and stared into space, fiddling with screens of his own, while the other three started speaking between themselves.

“I can’t believe we’re such a big deal,” Edgar said, all smiles. “Top three on Earth. Hehe.”

“Jack’s a big deal,” the professor pointed out. “We are just riding his thunder.”

“What big deal? I just punch stuff.”

“But you punch them very well.”

“I was lucky.”

She frowned. “Many people are lucky, Jack, but very few can turn that luck into something substantial. You did. And you know how things work. Don’t get fake-modest on us.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He laughed. “In any case… Man. I really wonder what the tournament is going to look like.”

“So do I,” Edgar said. “Think there will be more wizards there?”

“Of course. Everybody wants to be a wizard. The question is, will there be more pugilists or just me?”

“I hope it’s just you,” said the professor. “You’re the face of our faction. The more spotlight on you, the better.”

“Too much attention could be dangerous, though.”

“It gives us something to work with. I’m confident I can turn publicity into good things.”

“Marketing still rules the world, huh?” Jack mused. “I guess some things never change.”

“Just don’t die,” she said, smiling. “Please.”

“I don’t plan to, Professor.”

If I die after all that… It will be such a waste. Jack clenched his fist.

Time left until Integration Tournament: 10 Earth-387 minutes.

It was finally arriving.

A few days ago, Jack had finished laying the faction’s groundwork. He’d taken the professor and Edgar to the nature reserve, introducing them to Harambe and the other monkeys, as well as all the resources the reserve had to offer. The professor had agreed to move there and had handled all the logistics, letting Jack free to do whatever he wanted.

They were currently building their headquarters in the previous goblin clearing.

After that, he’d spent the rest of his time between relaxing and training against the surrounding monster fauna. On the surface, he’d only gained a single Level, bringing him to 35. In reality, not only did this time work wonders for his mental health, it also let him get accustomed to his new layer of awareness provided by the Fistfighting III skill.

He had regained fine control over his body, even while fighting. His battle prowess had taken another leap forward. Moreover, he’d spent a big chunk of time parkouring around until the movement became second nature, netting him a skill upgrade.

Parkour II: A mix of finesse and bodily strength can allow you to navigate obstacles efficiently, have better control of your body, and move unpredictably. By seamlessly integrating the environment into your moves, the battlefield itself becomes your weapon.

He’d also spent some time meditating in the ice waterfall, but to little effect. It seemed that his Dao Vision had reached a limit after he comprehended the Dao Root of the Fist and Meteor Punch. It wasn’t that it didn’t contain more insights; however, Jack felt them muddled, as if distorted just enough that they made no sense.

In the end, he’d just sighed and given up. He had to cultivate without external help to advance his Dao, and he could sense that what he lacked right now was battle experience, of which the tournament should give him plenty. Therefore, he simply focused on being at the top of his game.

All in all, Jack was in great form. He’d even escaped his previous savage appearance, at least temporarily; his marble-chiseled chest was covered by a simple white shirt whose sleeves were ready to burst at the seams. He wore heavy boots, loose trousers, and carried a single backpack filled with utilities and the Dao Fruit he kept at hand for later.

He reviewed his status screen one more time.

Name: Jack Rust

Species: Human, Earth-387

Faction: Bare Fist Brotherhood

Grade: F

Class: Pugilist (Elite)

Level: 35

Strength: 99

Dexterity: 99

Constitution: 99

Mental: 9

Will: 7

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

Dao Skills: Meteor Punch (I)

Titles: Planetary Frontrunner (10)

So close… I wonder if something happens at 100.

Wait.

“Hey, Tazul, does anything special happen when you reach a hundred points in the physical stats?”

The merchant looked away from his screens. “I’ll tell you for three hundred and fifty credits.”

“Is that a price you pulled out of your ass?”

“Maybe.”

“Can you guarantee the answer won’t be ‘nothing?’”

“I cannot.” He grinned.

Jack laughed. “Nevermind, then. I’ll just find out in a Level.”

“As you wish.” He then turned to the professor. “There is some information on the five scions, but it’s unverified. It’s only a hundred credits, so I’ll just give it to you.” His face went serious. “They’re the favorites for the top five spots.”

His seriousness went unanswered. Jack raised a brow. “But I beat one of them already.”

Tazul shook his head. “You’ll see.”

“Oh? I thought you’d give us all information on them.”

“I did.” He fell quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was hushed, like he was talking about a secret. “There are some things we aren’t allowed to discuss… Just keep in mind that the scions are more than meets the eye. They’re strong, but the tournament is where they’ll really shine.”

Jack, Edgar, and the professor all looked at each other. “We’ll be in touch as soon as telecommunications come back up,” Jack said. He’d taken his trusty Samsung smartphone along. “Let’s work together to keep an eye on everything.”

“Absolutely. Don’t forget about us, Jack.”

“I won’t.”

Time left until Integration Tournament: 5 Earth-387 minutes. Do you consent to being teleported to the tournament’s location?

Jack and Edgar raised their brows and accepted.

“Only five minutes left,” said Edgar. After training and honing his powers for a week, he had finally used his Dao Fruit yesterday. He’d succeeded; he was now the proud owner of a Dao Root of Magic. In other words, he was also going to the tournament—and his powers were impressive at the very least.

“Is there anything else you want to ask?” said the professor, looking at Jack. “Any information from Ar’Tazul?”

“If you ask now, I’ll give you a discount,” the merchant said with a greasy smile.

“We’re good.” Jack laughed. He looked at Brock, who was cupping his chin and staring up at Tazul from his feet.

He was content to let the final minutes tick by. The professor wasn’t. “Wait!” she suddenly shouted. “You said that the five scions are the favorites, and Jack’s beaten one of them. That sounds like trouble.”

“How so?” Jack asked.

“Tazul can’t say it apparently, for some reason, but Gan Salin told you they’re from the Animal Kingdom. They can certainly make things difficult for you in the tournament.”

“What should I do, then?” he asked. “I can’t unkick his ass.”

She rolled her eyes. “You can disguise yourself, Jack.”

“But you said I should be flashy.”

“Do that under a persona.” Her eyes were filled with calculations. “Impress the world and try to find allies against the scions. You should keep your identity a secret for as long as possible so they don’t use their connections to sabotage you. Plus, if they don’t see you at the tournament, they will assume that you are still here and won’t send their subordinate factions to mess with us. We’ll have time to move to the ape forest.”

“I see. But how do I—”

“Tazul sells a disguise kit,” she interrupted him. “Quick! The clock is ticking. Buy it!”

Jack frowned.

It wasn’t a matter of credits—he still had almost twenty thousand left, thanks to Gan Salin’s generous donation. However, did he really want to disguise himself, like he was ashamed of what he’d done? Or, God forbid, afraid? That wasn’t the path of the fist!

He crossed his arms and prepared his rebuttal, but it died on his tongue. The professor’s eyes were strict; the kind she showed when he acted stupid as a child.

“This isn’t about pride, Jack,” she said sternly. “Don’t become a puppet of your Dao. Be smart.”

Strictness gave way to softness. Facing her pleading gaze, Jack’s frown wavered. He took a deep breath.

“Fine,” he said. “What do you have, Tazul?”

His Dao Root protested, but he ignored it. He defined his path, not the opposite, and the professor was right; pride was one thing, idiocy was another. He’d still beat up everyone.

It occurred to him that Gan Salin might recognize his fighting style in the tournament. He had to do something about that, too. He hoped there were many pugilists.

Time left until Integration Tournament: 2 Earth-387 minutes.

Ar’Tazul rummaged through his crate, then quickly pulled out a vial filled with a grayish liquid. Jack squinted at it. “What’s that?”

“Disguise potion. It can alter your form enough to make you unrecognizable and make you appear faction-less and title-less to the System. Priced at a thousand credits,” he replied quickly.

“A thousand!? Do you take me for a fool, Tazul?”

“It isn’t easy to produce!” the merchant shouted back. “Your mother’s right. Hurry up, Jack. You only got a minute!”

He mulled it over.

“Jack!” the professor insisted.

Edgar watched on with worry. “I think you should do it,” he commented.

“Fine,” Jack consented. He whipped out his credit card and touched it to Tazul’s, watching a thousand credits tick away. With a spark of curiosity, he wished the merchant’s card showed its balance, too.

He then grabbed the potion, popped its cork off with his thumb, and wolfed it all down. Brock made a low monkey sound and stared at him with worry.

Jack licked his lips, then looked at himself. “I don’t—” he began saying before stopping. He frowned. He grabbed his belly. “Oh,” he said before falling to his knees. He held his mouth and tried not to puke. He felt his face twitch and then—to his horror—snap into a different position. It was the most disturbing sensation he’d ever experienced.

By his side, Brock was going crazy with worry. He was leaning against Jack and shaking him with his little hands.

“It lasts until you choose to dispel it. Just channel your Dao as intensely as you can and it will go away,” Ar’Tazul explained quickly. “D-Grades can see through it, but you should be fine otherwise.”

The professor had stopped listening. “Jack?” she asked. “Are you oka—”

She didn’t have time to finish her sentence. The timer hit zero. A blue flash appeared around Jack, Edgar, and Brock, blinding everyone. The next moment, they were gone, vanishing into thin air.

The Integration Tournament had started.