Road to Mastery: A LitRPG Apocalypse

Jack stood on one edge of the sparring room. Dorman Whistles stood on the other, twirling twin daggers in his hands. Brock peeked from the entrance door and was ready to pull his head back in case of rampaging shockwaves, while the training robot stood calmly in a corner, medical kit in hand.

“What say you we make a bet, Dorman?” Jack asked.

Dorman frowned. “A bet?”

“Yes. If I win, you join the Flame River alliance. If you win… Well, what would you want?”

Jack remembered that Dorman had remained neutral so far. However, the two alliances weren’t just about Flame River versus Ice Peak. They also concerned Jack versus the scions. He still wasn’t sure how exactly they’d stop the encroaching behemoth called Animal Kingdom in a year, when their grace period was over, but being in the strongest alliance now seemed like their best bet.

Dorman considered it for a moment. “Fine,” he said. “If I win, you’ll give me one hundred thousand credits.”

It was a tremendous amount. Jack didn’t even have that much.

“Okay,” he agreed. “I don’t have that much right now, but I’ll give you what I have and owe the rest.”

“Okay.”

Jack gulped. The bet was a nice idea; he just had to not lose. How difficult could it be?

He reached for his feet and grabbed a flip-flop. “I apologize in advance,” he said. “I would have preferred to use a more elegant weapon, but alas, we do not choose the Dao; the Dao chooses us.”

“No problem. I also favor light weapons. It should be a good match,” Dorman replied.

Jack felt proud. His disguise had worked!

“Prepare yourself,” Dorman said, then disappeared.

Jack barely caught a blur to his right before a dagger nicked his ribs, letting a thin line of blood drip down his waist.

“What’s the matter?” Dorman appeared a few steps before him. “Can’t you even handle that little bit of speed?”

Jack’s brows twitched. “You little shit.” He fell into a fighting stance. His eyes sharpened, his breath evened, and his chest inflated. His body was fire and his mind ice.

Dorman lunged again. This time, too, Jack barely caught a glimpse, but it was enough. He slapped his flip-flop in the air, barely missing Dorman, who’d jumped back.

He returned from another direction. Jack was there again, slapping before he knew it. Thanks to the training robot, he knew how to handle extreme speed; his reflexes worked directly from his senses to his limbs, without any sort of thinking required in between. He could react faster like that; fast enough to catch dagger-wielding flies.

Dorman flitted in and out of reach, darting around the room like it was nothing. He moved at such speeds he befuddled the eye, but it wasn’t just his speed itself, it was the ease with which he could completely change his momentum. One moment he was moving to the right at full speed, then he instantly turned to the left at the same speed, and that change was so fast that the eye carried on to the right for a fraction of a second, making him seem to disappear.

It wasn't a hard tactic to grasp—Jack did the same thing on slower opponents—but to do that on Jack of all people spoke of his abilities. He was even faster than the robot!

However, Jack wasn’t a pushover, either. Though he hadn’t met an opponent like this before, he adapted mid-fight. Against his instincts, he stopped focusing on Dorman’s body, widening his gaze so he could catch him even when he changed directions like that.

It worked.

A blur remained when Dorman tried to disappear. It flickered from side to side, getting behind Jack elusively fast, but he was there. He swung behind him, flip-flop slapping the air, but still received a shallow cut on his lower back.

“Your body’s tough,” Dorman said. “What’s your Constitution?”

“99. What’s your Dexterity?”

“It’s not that simple. All stats matter…but it’s almost two hundred!” Dorman laughed, then charged again. He seemed even faster than before. Jack stuck his back against the wall, but it felt like fighting the wind. Wherever his flip-flop was, there was always a dagger slipping in from somewhere else. He didn’t catch Dorman even once. Laughter surrounded him from all directions like a jolly butcher.

Dorman’s forte wasn’t pure speed. It was a mix of skill, fine control, reaction speed, maneuverability, and then pure speed. Unfortunately, Jack didn’t have time to care about the specifics.

In the blink of an eye, he’d received more than a dozen shallow cuts. His regeneration could handle them, but they stang like motherfuckers. He clenched his fist.

“Enough!” he roared. Dorman appeared opposite him.

“Enough? Do you resign already?” he said with disappointment.

Jack laughed hoarsely. “Can you keep a secret?”

Dorman’s eyes narrowed. “I can.”

“Good. Then, I’ll fuck you up properly.”

He let his flip-flop fall. Fighting spirit erupted out of him, along with an aura of suppression. His hair whipped in a non-existent wind as he clenched his fists.

He could barely use his Dao Root when wielding a flip-flop. It was like trying to fit a bucket’s worth of water through a straw. Most got stuck.

Now, his Dao was unleashed, and it was fucking pissed. “Come at me!” Jack roared, adopting a boxing stance.

Dorman obliged. He struck again, his daggers closing the gap in the blink of an eye, but Jack was there. A fist smashed into the air, and though it didn’t hit Dorman, the air pressure itself was enough to make him wary. Another fist came immediately afterward, and Dorman had to jump away.

“You were holding back!” he exclaimed. The ends of his lips rose. “That’s awesome!”

Jack lunged. He closed the distance in two steps and punched out, making the air cave with every strike. Dorman fell on the defensive. Jack moved slowly but confidently, and his fists were ready to jab at a moment’s notice, waiting to sting when Dorman got close. Against Dorman’s weak physical body, Jack didn’t need to punch hard; swift jabs would be most effective.

When Jack reverted to his original fighting style, he instantly knew how to fight better. After all, he was used to this, not a goddamn flip-flop!

He dashed and punched. His fists whistled through the air like bullets. Dorman’s stance fell lower. His hair rose, and their tips flashed with lightning sparks, as did the tips of his daggers.

Jack instantly became wary. He stopped attacking and stepped back, barely saving himself. Dorman’s daggers bit through the skin of his belly, so fast he didn’t even register their motion. He only saw blood spurt out of him, a geyser that turned into a slow current. He ached with every beat of his heart.

“Heh,” Dorman said, panting, “nice dodge.”

The robot took a step, holding the medical kit. “Master, should I—”

“No!” Jack cut it off. He stepped back into the fray, catching Dorman by surprise. His punches fell like a landslide, pushing the other man back until his back met the wall. A fist connected cleanly; Dorman yelled as he was flung aside, crossing the air to smash into the far wall. Jack felt a rib crack under his hard knuckles.

Dorman tumbled to the ground and stood again. His daggers were steady, though his expression was pained.

“We keep going?” Jack asked.

“We keep going.”

He dashed again. Daggers slashed the air into pieces as punches annihilated it altogether. Dorman danced around Jack, dodging cataclysmic strikes by the skin of his teeth as he unleashed a thousand cuts on Jack, who took them all and still stood. In contrast, one well-placed punch would be enough to end Dorman, and Jack defended his vitals well.

Their strikes were too fast to see. Brock’s eyes had gotten hazy, and a moment later, he got dizzy, but he wouldn’t let his bro’s fight go unseen. He kept his eyes glued on the exchange even as he fought back the urge to puke.

Jack felt trapped in a ball of spikes. Daggers were everywhere. No matter where he moved, they waited to slice him. He couldn’t get close like this. He couldn’t last long enough. His regeneration closed the wounds, but it wasn’t instant; every slice was a nick at his perseverance.

Something needed to be done. And if Jack couldn’t defend with his fists…he would defend with his body.

Something rose in his mind. Something that had been bubbling right under the surface, brewing until it was mature. Jack gave in to it. He slowed down, letting the rain of daggers carve his body. His hands defended his vitals, especially his face and throat.

The rest of his body defended itself. Jack felt transparent. He could see his entire layout of muscles, from the largest to the tiniest. He could even see many muscles that he was sure weren’t supposed to be there, yet there they were.

Dorman’s dagger sliced at his ribs. Jack’s skin tensed, a dozen tiny muscles working together to harden that particular spot. The dagger bounced off, barely breaking the skin. Another dagger came at his chest, but the same thing happened; of his myriad muscles, the correct ones worked in perfect harmony to enhance the spot about to be hit.

Dorman’s daggers kept falling, but their damage was minimal. Jack smiled. In slow motion, he met Dorman’s eyes and realized that he, too, was smiling.

The rain of daggers turned into a flood. Dorman sped up, giving up precision for even more absurd speed. Jack’s new defense mechanism rose in effectiveness in parallel to Dorman’s speed; or, maybe, it was the opposite.

At some point, both plateaued.

Congratulations! Pugilist Body (II) → Pugilist Body (III)

Pugilist Body (III): Your body has adapted to your fighting style. You gain significant flexibility, reflexes, and durability, as well as increased hardness on your knuckles. You have heightened control over your body, including its natural limiters, and slight regenerative powers.Additionally, you have the ability to harden every surface of your body at will, significantly increasing your defensive properties.

Jack couldn’t read the screen mid-fight, of course, but he didn’t need it. He understood exactly what was happening.

However, even this upgrade wasn’t enough to eke out a victory, because Dorman was getting better at the same pace. The battle raged on. No more breakthroughs came.

Some time later, Jack felt his edge slipping. It took the entirety of his concentration to keep up with Dorman, and he couldn’t keep it up for long. Plus, he was bleeding from a hundred different places. He needed to end this.

He ducked in, extending both arms to the side. Dorman didn’t expect that and ran into one of them, at the same time delivering a fierce cut in Jack’s liver, but it wasn’t enough to take him down. Suddenly, Dorman was trapped; and in the single moment that he stayed still, the world darkened. His every hair stood on end as a meteor exploded right next to his ear, rupturing his ear drum and showering the world in fiery purple. However, he stood standing.

“I win,” said Jack, who’d missed the meteor punch on purpose.

Dorman, though sweating, smiled. “Are you sure?” he asked.

Jack frowned. And then, he realized that, though he couldn’t see it due to the angle, a dagger was placed right before his left eye. Suddenly, he was sweating too.

“How did you do that?” he asked. “I was watching both your hands.”

“A Skill,” was all Dorman replied, chuckling out a cough. “Thank you for not killing me.”

“Same to you. I even got a skill upgrade mid-fight.”

“I knew it. Me too!”

Then, their excitement wore off, and they realized how weary they were.

“Whew, man…” For a moment, Dorman seemed like a normal teenager as he took a step back and sat on the floor. He was exhausted and panting deeply. Now that he didn’t take care to look serious, Jack noticed he was just a short, slim kid, the kind who’d get picked on in high school.

Suddenly, his extreme elitism didn’t seem all that off.

“What was the name of that skill?” Jack asked. “The lightning one.”

Dorman smiled. “Twin Lightning Fang. But I can’t control it well enough yet. Yours?”

“Meteor Punch.”

“It sure felt like one.” Dorman laughed. “At the end, I used a Skill that makes me way faster. That’s why you didn’t see my dagger.”

“Why didn’t you use it earlier? You could have beaten me.”

“I couldn’t.” Dorman didn’t explain, and Jack didn’t push further, either. Everyone had their secrets.

Jack stumbled. He wasn’t as physically worn as Dorman, but he was mentally exhausted. Plus, he was still bleeding. “Hey, Sparman,” he told the robot, “can you bandage me?”

“That is not my name, Master.”

“Do you have one?”

“Yes.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll call you Sparman.”

“...As you wish.”

It came closer, opening its medical kit for the first time and revealing rows of syringes, along with packs of bandages and other tools. It first stabbed a syringe filled with ice-blue liquid in Jack’s abs, making him grimace, then expertly wrapped bandages around his largest wound, the one caused by Dorman’s twin lightning fang. The rest of the cuts would heal by themselves, so Jack just let them be. His regeneration was growing with his stats, and it was plenty useful by now.

He extended a hand to Dorman, who, smiling, grabbed it and used it to stand.

“Did you know that the scions like to shout out the names of their attacks?” Jack asked.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. That’s so cringe.”

“Ugh, don’t use that word out loud. It’s so…”

“Cringe?”

“Yeah, but don’t use it.”

Right then, Brock came running from the door and stopped in front of Jack, jumping excitedly on the spot and pointing at Jack’s muscles.

“Of course I am, Brock,” he replied. “I’m your father’s bro, remember? He’s strong, so I have to be strong, too!”

Brock protested.

“You’re my little bro,” Jack explained, “since I’m the bro of your father, who is your big bro.”

Another protest, more intense.

“Little in hierarchy, Brock. Your muscles are huuuge!”

That seemed to do the trick, and Brock, satisfied, turned to Dorman. He looked at the teenager’s lanky arms for a moment, then did a “so-so” sign with his hand. Both men burst into laughter, and Brock followed a moment later, not really understanding but wanting to fit in.

“That’s a cute monkey,” Dorman said. “Where did you find it?”

“I’m friends with his father’s pack. Brock here came along to experience the world and get strong.”

“Hmm… He doesn’t seem strong though…”

Brock reached behind his tail, armed, and threw a poop at Dorman, who dodged it hurriedly.

“What the—” he said. “That’s disgusting!”

Jack laughed again, while Brock was waving a fist in the air and calling out Dorman in monkey talk.

“By the way,” Dorman said after a moment, “I know I didn’t lose, but I’ll join your alliance anyway.”

“How so?”

“You’re there, and you seem like an okay person. The Ice Peak…not so much.”

“I see. That's great.” Jack smiled, simultaneously narrowing his eyes at Dorman. “I’m not giving you the hundred thousand though. I need it for something.”

“Of course.” Dorman laughed. “It’s okay. Money and equipment are inferior to skills, and you can’t buy those.”

“Sure you can,” Jack replied in puzzlement.

“What do you mean?” Dorman asked back, puzzled himself. “Wait; we’re talking about the real skills, right? The Dao ones.”

“I was talking about all of them, actually. Why did you call Dao skills the real ones?”

“Because they are. Don’t you know how skills work?”