Road to Mastery: A LitRPG Apocalypse

“He killed her on purpose. That is against the rules. He must be punished,” Jack stated, staring the late E-Grade head judge in the eye.

She stared back, not speaking for a moment.

Next to Jack, Edgar’s jaw was hanging, and Karvahul’s face had gone through fifty shades of blue. The surrounding people took a few steps away, not wanting to be associated with Jack, as did most of the “friends” he’d made on the stands, who had followed them to the stairs to say goodbye.

Jack snorted at them.

Only Brock remained by Jack’s side, staring at the leonine and flipping him off. Jack couldn’t help but crack a smile.

Rufus Emberheart had just parted the curtain and was about to cross, but stopped when Jack’s voice reached him. He looked over, and the moment he did, Jack felt like he was back in his forest, hunting goblins and forced to kneel to an unbeatable black wolf, the king of the forest.

He knew right away that this Rufus was not someone he could beat. However, there was something important between them: rules. And Jack would be damned if he let this lion kill one of his comrades for free.

“It was an accident,” Rufus replied. His voice was soft yet commanding, carrying an undeniable nobility. Jack didn’t doubt that; but rules were rules, and fuck cheaters.

“It clearly wasn’t. Maybe the judges will let it go because of your status, but everyone saw what happened. You cheated.”

Rufus bared his teeth. Jack felt them wounding around his throat but didn’t back down. Violence was forbidden outside the tournament, and Karvahul had made it clear there were guards ready to stop troublemakers. Even if Rufus Emberheart was so above the rules that he dared attack him openly, Jack was confident he could at least survive till the guards intervened.

“John,” Karvahul whispered quickly, “you must stop this before…”

He kept speaking, but Jack tuned him out.

The head judge didn’t reply. Rufus gave Jack a long, hard stare, letting him stew for a moment before speaking.

“I have no status,” he declared. “I am a wayward son of the Animal Kingdom, but my parents arrived on this planet centuries ago. I have no relation to any force in the galaxy. I may not be human, but I am a native.”

Bullshit, Jack thought. He and the other scions were clearly sent here from the Animal Kingdom, but they had to pretend to be natives to abide by the laws. It was a paper-thin lie, but it worked.

“I had no intention of harming that human. She was simply too weak,” Rufus continued with a regal bearing, like a king giving his decree, “but if you demand I be punished”—he emphasized the word— “so be it. Count this as my loss, judge. It’s fine; I won’t have another. Let it be known that I am fair.”

The head judge spoke before Jack could respond.

“Very well,” she said. “Due to breaking the rules and harming a participant on purpose, Rufus Emberheart receives a loss.”

The djinns responsible for keeping record quickly scribbled it down in their papers, and Rufus disappeared behind the curtain, not sparing Jack another glance. Jack frowned and turned the other way.

“Let’s go,” he said, storming down the stairs with Brock close behind. The anger inside him warred with impotence. If there weren’t rules he could levy, he could have done jack shit about what happened.

I need to get stronger, he thought to himself. No matter what.

“John!” Edgar called out behind him. “Wait! I can’t go down the stairs that fast!”

Jack stopped for a moment, letting Edgar catch up. Karvahul followed a moment later, panic written all over his face. “What have you done!?” he asked. “That— You— You’re a lunatic, that’s what you are! Why did you do that?”

“Because he was cheating, and fuck cheaters,” Jack replied, turning around. “And most importantly, fuck arrogant assholes who think they can get away with everything because their father is a big-shot.”

“Even if it kills you?”

“Even if it kills me.” Jack stared Karvahul down until the djinn looked away. “If you don’t like that, Karvahul, you’re free to walk away. Same goes for you, Edgar.”

“I’m staying,” Edgar replied in a heartbeat.

Karvahul pondered it for a moment, then said, “You know what? This will give you even more publicity, and as your manager—”

“You are not my manager.”

“A figure of speech, John, a figure of speech. Anyway, I’m sure we can make money off this. Tons of money.” His little eyes almost shone golden. “I’ll have to jump planet afterward, but, hmm… Okay. Luck favors the bold. I’m in!”

Jack stared at the djinn for another long moment, suddenly not sure he was in.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Karvahul said. “If you’re going high-stakes, you need someone who knows the ropes. Experience balls, Dao fruits, skills, information, wondrous treasures… For only a small cut, I can ensure all resources are at your fingertips. With that much wealth invested in you, you will grow stronger at a terrifying rate! Maybe even enough to fight that monster…” he finished, though he didn’t seem to believe that last part.

Jack thought about it for a moment, then finally sighed. He needed money. “What kind of business are we talking about?” he asked.

“Anything! You’re a famous person now; if you visit a restaurant, people will flock there. If you have a favorite shop, people will follow you! I can get those restaurants and shops to pay you a cut. Plus, since the scions wouldn’t visit the town and interact with us common mortals, you’re probably the biggest celebrity around, with only Vivi Eragorn, Alexander Petrovic, and Jack Rust—the leaders of the major factions—behind you.” He winked. “But even they can’t cause a ruckus like you did.”

Jack scratched his head. At some point, his anger had melted away, giving way to wary confusion.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Very. Trust me; I’ll make you golden.”

“What do you think, Edgar?”

“I think you should agree,” the wizard replied. “Think of all the stuff in the faction shop. Even if things go south here, our faction will stand strong with enough credits on their backs. We can protect them.”

Jack thought about it for a moment. “Fine.” He was a decisive man to begin with, and he trusted Edgar. If he said it was a good idea, then it was a good idea. “You work your magic, Karvahul. But for now, I want to take a walk alone—well, just with Brock.”

The djinn’s smile was so wide it reached his ears. “Okay!” he said, then dashed off like a kid going to play.

“I think I’ll stay and watch a little longer,” Edgar said. “Information is power. I’ll keep notes on all strong people to study later.”

Jack raised his head. He hadn’t thought of that.

“Great. Thank you, Edgar. Here, have this.” He fished his last block of cheese from his pocket and handed it to Edgar, who took it with amusement.

“This is cheese,” he observed.

“Right. It’s to help you if anything happens.”

“Like angry mice trying to mug me.”

“Exactly. And don’t worry; I have other snacks, too.”

“Of course you do.”

Jack smiled. “See you, Edgar!”

“See you, John Brown!”

Jack laughed as he paced away, Brock following beside him. Now that he wasn’t looking in the arena’s direction, he could see a blue sky with little gray clouds. The sun was high, and the sea breeze still reached his nose through the town.

Suddenly, he realized he was on vacations.

“Guess it’s just you and me, buddy,” he said, looking at Brock. “What do you want to do?”

Brock flexed his little biceps.

“Work out? Maybe later. Let’s try something fun first.”

Brock seemed confused—working out was fun—but eventually rubbed his belly.

“Eat? Sure! I have some spare credits. Wanna go by the seaside, too?”

Brock rushed up to Jack’s shoulders. Jack smiled and went on his way.

The town was still lively. The festivities may have died down, but Jack spotted many TV screens around the town—mostly on shop walls—where the fights were displayed. That C-Grade had mentioned they were transmitted throughout the entire planet.

Is the Professor watching? he wondered. Ugh. She saw me spanking people and being corny.

Well, whatever. The die has been cast.

A pleasant smell hit his nostrils.

“Look, Brock!” he exclaimed, already salivating, as was Brock.

A small food cart waited by a corner, in the shade of a white building. It had a grill on it, where three meat skewers were slowly sizzling in the heat. Their fat popped in bubbles, and the smell was so appetizing Jack found himself walking over before he knew it.

“Good afternoon,” the ifrit who manned the cart greeted them politely. “A skewer for your thoughts?”

“These smell delicious!” Jack exclaimed. “What are they?”

“Earth pig. E-Grade meat; best you’ve ever tasted, and only for five credits apiece.”

“We’ll have three.”

“Sure thing!”

The ifrit turned up the heat and let them enjoy the fragrance for a little longer before the skewers were ready. He handed them over along with some napkins. Jack quickly removed two pieces of meat from the first skewer and gave them to Brock, then chomped down on the second skewer.

It was heavenly.

The meat melted in his mouth, making his chest fuzzy and his legs weak. “Ohh,” he groaned involuntarily. The ifrit laughed.

“Guess I avoided a spanking!”

“What?” Jack barely managed to recover. The ifrit pointed behind him, and Jack turned to look, finding a big screen embedded in a nearby wall. It currently showed two swordsmen clashing against each other.

“The Spanker,” the ifrit said with a wide smile. “I saw your fight. You made that big guy seem like a baby.”

“Eh,” Jack managed to grit out. Inwardly, he was cringing. He suddenly felt that claiming he had the Dao of Spanking would put him in so many awkward situations.

“Enjoy your stay, friends,” the merchant said with a smile. “And remember to visit Estu’s Cart often!”

“Wait. I didn’t pay yet.”

“You don’t need to. These are on the house.” The ifrit—presumably Estu—winked, and Jack realized that being a celebrity had its perks. He smiled. “Thanks, Estu. See you around!”

“I sure hope so!”

They kept walking. The delicious meat skewers and the smell that still wafted off them only made the sightseeing more pleasant.

There were no cars in Integration City, so very little noise, as well as more beautiful scenery. Jack and Brock walked down stone-paved streets that snaked through white buildings. Clothes hung on lines above them, going from one merchant’s balcony to the other—most lived above or next to their shops. Every second house sold something; be it food, weapons, armor, or even souvenirs, everything glistened behind glass.

The souvenir shops especially excited Jack. They sold stickers, magnets, postcards, shirts, hats, statuettes—anything, really—and all depicted starships, wizards, monsters, gladiators, or the large arena itself.

Jack didn’t buy anything—to the disappointment of the spinning top-shaped shopkeeper—but promised himself to get some before the end of the tournament. For now, he was looking for more food.

They’d already run out of meat skewers, but he was still hungry, especially after Brock simply couldn’t have enough of them. They’d ended up eating them half and half, though Jack initially planned to take two for himself—after all, he was buying, and Brock was so small!

At least they’d been cheap—or rather, free.

“Wanna eat by the seaside, Brock?” he asked, and the monkey jumped up and down in joy. The street they were on eventually opened into a wide area. They could see the starship’s edge ahead of them, and hear the waves crashing into it nine feet below. The stone-paved streets gave way to white metal when one approached the edge, and Jack saw a small restaurant that had placed tables on said white metal. A wooden construction above protected them from the sun, with vines and all sorts of plants weaving a beautiful roof over their heads.

He instantly liked the place. Without much thought, he took a seat and waited for the waiter to come. The table was wooden, small, and square, while the tablecloth was white paper that occasionally depicted blue ships and seagulls. Jack’s chair was blue and also wooden, which seemed to somehow accentuate the strong sea breeze, and a straw pillow rested under him. Four plastic pegs held the tablecloth down.

“Hello,” a voice came from above him. However, when Jack turned to look, he didn’t find a waiter. It was the homeless-looking person he’d seen once in the streets.

He still wore the torn old clothes Jack had last seen him in, and his gray-ish hair hid under a green cap. At least he was clean this time.

And he was Level 38.

The homeless-looking person gave Jack a wide, yellow-toothed smile. “Hello,” he repeated raspily. “Can I sit?”