Road to Mastery: A LitRPG Apocalypse

Jack stood behind the line and glared at the practice target. Its white and red wood stared at him mockingly, just out of reach. He narrowed his eyes.

“You can start,” Master Shol said. Jack fell into a stance, took a deep breath, and punched out. His outstretched hand met the air. The wind of his punch traveled out, meeting the target and shaking it a bit, but not breaking it.

“Good,” the ghost spoke again. “Now keep doing that until it works.”

Jack looked back with half-doubt. He wasn’t sure how to do that, but he could try. His punches shot out, sending gust after gust onto the target. It shook in the wind but held steady.

“You are too focused on your fist,” Master Shol said. “Look at the target, not your hand. Imagine that your fist is a projectile.”

Jack obliged. He struck out, picturing his fist as a missile. He remembered the bald man’s strike in the vision; it had traveled through the air for a large distance and still drilled straight through the massive, skyscraper-like beast. He tried to imitate that feeling.

His punch shot out a tad straighter. Its force dissipated the moment he finished swinging, sending errants wind gusts around.

“You are targeting the air. Your punch must only cross through it, not explode on it. The air is a delicate friend. The target is the enemy.”

Jack’s fist straightened. He didn’t whip it to its final location, but shot it out more purposely and slightly slower, letting it ride its own wind. This time, when his arm could stretch no longer, he didn’t feel the recoil. A shimmer in the air was the only indication his punch was still there; then, the target shook violently and cracked down the middle.

“Much better.” Master Shol nodded. “That is the way. You have been content with using the Drill skill to penetrate only a superficial layer of armor, so it didn’t matter if your energy dissipated. However, if you want to become truly proficient, you must send the fist deeper, like a straight bullet that explodes only when and where you want it. At the later stages, this skill will allow you to send strikes through the vacuum of space, or from the earth to the sky. You will be able to punch clouds from the ground.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yes. But to do that, you must first learn to punch a target from a foot away. Again.”

Jack refocused. He had the feeling; now, all he had to was practice, keep practicing, and master it to such a degree that it would come by itself in the heat of battle. His gaze narrowed. The target became his whole world. His bare upper body glistened with sweat as he punched over and over, letting the hours pass uninhibited.

He was making progress. The skill was there, and the System was helping him; he only had to learn to harness that power. After a moment, he entered a trance where he kept punching, retrieving his hand, then punching again. The wind gusts became his breath. Every jolt of the target sent a ray of joy through his brain. Every crack was his pride.

His Dao Root of Indomitable Will sank him deeper.

He kept punching. One fist turned into a hundred, which turned into a thousand. Every time the target cracked, it would repair itself as if mocking Jack’s efforts.

Until one moment, when everything clicked. It came without warning. Jack punched like every other time, but something was different. His arm was straight. His entire being was aligned. The air parted in the wake of his fist’s shockwave, carrying it forward. It smashed into the wooden target so hard it broke into three, then the shockwave erupted, sending wooden shrapnel around the room.

Jack exhaled deeply, blinking rapidly as he returned to reality. A piece of sharp wood had shot at his chest and then fallen to the floor, unable to penetrate.

“I did it!” he shouted, pumping a fist.

“Good job,” Master Shol’s disgruntled voice came from somewhere behind him. Turning to look, Jack found him overseeing Brock’s work-out. They seemed to be in some sort of disagreement as Brock insisted on Master Shol spotting him to lift some weights over his chest, but Master Shol repeated that he was incorporeal.

Taking the chance, he quickly left Brock alone and headed over to Jack, who looked into the void puzzledly.

“I didn’t get an upgrade?” he asked.

“Of course not. It’s not that easy. Now that you can hit the target from a foot away, repeat until you can do it reliably, then move to two feet, then three. When you can consistently send your fist three feet through the air, we will move on to the next part.”

“Oh.”

Master Shol smiled. “The road to mastery is long and difficult, Jack. But while it seems like an ordeal now, one day you will look back, and all these little steps will form a beautiful path in hindsight.”

Jack raised his gaze. “I understand, Master. I am not afraid to work hard.”

“Of course not. You are an indomitable fist. If even you slacked off, everyone would.” He snickered. “Good job. Rest for a bit; then, we’ll move to Parkour training. I have finished devising it.”

Jack nodded, suddenly realizing he was tired. He plopped down on the floor as he was. Brock left his weights and came too, giving Jack a big thumbs-up. “Work hard, Brock,” Jack said. “There are so many things we don’t know yet…and if we want to explore the world and protect our pack, we will need to be strong.”

Brock nodded, then took off again to lift more weights.

“But rest is important too!” Jack hurriedly added, but it was too late. He’d already set the young ape’s heart on fire. At this point, he could only chuckle.

As Jack rested, Master Shol remained by his side, each thinking about their own thing.

“Can I ask you something, Master?” Jack asked.

Master Shol looked up. “Go ahead.”

“When I scanned you before, I saw that your faction was B-Grade, but I thought the Animal Kingdom was the only B-Grade faction in this constellation.”

Under his thick beard and hard eyes, Master Shol’s lips played a small smile. “That is true,” he responded. “My Exploding Sun rules the nearby constellation. However, this planet is very close to the border, and the Galactic Alliance instructed that mentors should be invited based on proximity, too. That is why I am here, though the Animal Kingdom would love to kick me out.”

“Why would they?”

“Because our factions are enemies.”

Jack raised both brows. “Really?” he asked.

“Of course. We contest for the astral space between us and various resources. Me poaching disciples from them is the last thing they want; that is partially why they tried to disqualify you when they saw that I chose you.”

“Oh. Good thing you stopped them, then. But wait; why did those other immortals back you up instead of the lion bitch? Are they from your constellation, too?”

Master Shol failed to hold back a grin at calling the C-Grade Planetary Overseer a “lion bitch.” “No, though they’d love to be. The Animal Kingdom is not beloved by their subordinate forces. Their powers are based on lineage, which means they don’t take outside disciples, which in turn means they oppress the factions below them freely. They are tyrants.”

“Oh,” Jack said again. He thought back to how the scions acted, then how quick the judges were to favor them. Makes sense.

“Why don’t they revolt, then?” he asked.

“Because the Animal Kingdom is far stronger than all of them put together.”

“You could help them. You’re enemies of the Animal Kingdom, right? If you waltzed in with the full force of your constellation and half of this constellation joined you, I doubt the Animal Kingdom could resist.”

“That is correct.” Master Shol’s face was now colored with amusement. “Unfortunately, things are not so simple. The Star Pact forbids treason. If we attacked, the entire constellation would have to fight against us.”

Jack scrunched his brows. “The Star Pact again. That name keeps coming up...”

“Of course it does. It is the only true law in the galaxy.”

“Well, what does it say?”

Master Shol shrugged. “Too many things to mention now. Just take it as a set of laws that let B-Grade factions coexist peacefully, as well as ensure that newly-integrated planets can grow into their power. The one-galactic year grace period and the Integration Tournament, for example, are enforced by the Star Pact.”

“Hmm.” Jack frowned, fully invested in the conversation by now. His current knowledge had many gaps, and Master Shol seemed capable and willing to fill them in. “Ensure that newly-integrated people can grow into their power… Doesn’t the Hand of God do something similar? With the auction?”

“They don’t do something similar. It is the exact same thing. The Hand of God is an elite force sponsored by all B-Grade factions and dedicated to cultivating the galaxy’s first A-Grade. They are also the enforcers of the Star Pact.”

“Really? I thought they were just high-end merchants.”

“They are a bit of everything, from merchants to peacekeepers. Unfortunately, they have had their hands full with suppressing the Black Hole Church recently, leading to many monster outbreaks, planet poachings, and pirate invasions around the galaxy.”

Hearing that, Jack’s eyes shone. He was practically brimming with questions.

“And what about this Black Hole Church?” was the one he chose to ask. He’d heard about them before. Who was it that mentioned them? The Sage? Or Karvahul?

“Do you never run out of questions?” Master Shol threw Jack a side-glance. “You jump from subject to subject like a rabbit. Are you not dizzy?”

Jack took his words in stride and laughed. Brock, on the other hand, came to his assistance instantly, angrily waving a fist at Master Shol and preparing to launch a poop. Jack stopped him.

“Show respect, Brock,” he said before turning to Master Shol. “I’m sorry, Master. I’ll stop now.”

He’d already gotten a ton of new information, anyway. This Master Shol really was a treasure trove—if a bit uppity.

Master Shol himself, however, was of a different mind. “No, boy. It is fine. I approve of your thirst for knowledge, just care not to overwhelm yourself; the higher the volume, the greater the loss.”

Jack nodded thoughtfully.

Master Shol rubbed his beard and finally answered Jack’s question. “The Black Hole Church is…complicated.” He chose his words carefully. “They’re also an elite force like the Hand of God, but they operate outside the established frame. Nobody knows who leads them or what their goals are. By decree of the Galactic Alliance, they’re terrorists.”

“And also a cult, I assume.”

“In a way. What do you know about the Old Ones, Jack?”

“What?” He stammered. “You mean like Cthulhu?”

“I have no idea what that is. I am talking about the Old Ones. The Gods of the universe.”

“Oh…” Jack hesitated. “Well… Nothing, I guess?”

Master Shol sighed tiredly. “Then work as we speak. You have already rested enough. Grab the instruments I show and spread them around the other room.”

Jack raised a brow but obliged. He grabbed a benchpress that Master Shol indicated and somehow managed to fit it through the door to the training room. Sparman watched with silent amusement. “Help me,” Jack told him, and the robot got to work too.

“The Old Ones are legends,” Master Shol spoke as he directed Jack and Sparman around. Brock wanted to help too, so he carried some dumbbells one by one. “It is unknown whether they actually exist or not. If they do, they have never appeared in our galaxy.”

“This one can’t fit through the door,” Jack said, then dropped the instrument and went to grab another.

“According to our current knowledge, the System came from a distant part of the universe,” Master Shol continued, his voice taking a slow, reverent tint. “We can glimpse some things through the text of System notifications and the Dao Visions. There are almost certainly other galaxies, though it’s unknown why they don’t contact us. As legend has it, the System was created by a race called Immortals for the purpose of fighting the Old Ones, who sought to dominate all existence with their godly powers.

“There was a war, once. A crusade—though we only have fragmented knowledge about it. The Immortals and all the System races against the Old Ones.”

Jack was still carrying instruments to the other room, but his attention was fully on Master Shol’s words—so much that he almost tripped, then whispered a curse.

“We do not know who won,” Master Shol continued, shaking his head. “In fact, we know almost nothing about those things. However, the ones who claim to know are the Black Hole Church. They worship Enas, an Old One presumably trapped in a black hole in the center of a far-off galaxy by its own kind. It is unknown why they worship a being so terrible that even its godly companions would imprison it forever. But they do worship it, or so they claim.

“And they are collecting power. They are gaining ground in the galaxy. There have been uprisings recently; entire planets have disappeared off the astral map. The Galactic Alliance and the Hand of God are worried, and they have sent entire armies of immortals after them. The problem is that the Black Hole Church operates in secret. Its members are hiding among us. Things are complicated.”

He shook his head. “But I overspoke. You don’t need to bother with those things. What you should focus on is winning the Integration Tournament, accumulating power, then finding a way to save yourself and your people from impending doom. And the best way to do that is to parkour better.”

Jack’s brain short-circuited. “What?” he mumbled.

“Parkour better. Look, you already moved everything. The training room is ready. Here’s what you’re going to do.”

***

The Forest of the Strong burst with activity. Builders came and went, carrying materials in abundance. Their enhanced bodies made everything faster.

Gymonkeys and brorillas swung through the trees, watching the humans below, while Harambe lounged at the roots of the bananarm tree, absent-mindedly lifting a 100kg dumbbell. A human arrived beside him—a member of the Bare Fist Brotherhood. Harambe didn’t know her name, but he was used to her presence by now. He did not react.

With a small bow, the young woman reached up to the tree and plucked three bananarms. She then bowed again and took off, where three red-dressed men waited in the distance. Only a moment after she left, the bananarms regrew.

The situation around the Clear Pond and the High Speed Bush was much more hectic. People arrived occasionally, transferring a set amount of credits to a Bare Fist Brotherhood clerk before either picking a leaf off the bush or stripping to their underwear and entering the pond, which was packed full with no regard for gender.

The professor had been industrious.

After all their members had benefited from the resources, she had contacted the nearby towns and offered the resources for a price. They were magically renewed every time, so they could be distributed freely.

They wouldn’t last forever, of course—that would make no sense. The Brotherhood had someone watching over the resources at all times. If they showed the slightest hint of decay, the business would end—but everything was going great so far. The professor estimated that, in the short-term, the credits they made off this business were more useful than keeping the resources intact. After all, the faction shop offered many great things, including a goblin battle simulator she had already purchased.

For a hundred credits, anyone could access one of the resources. Three hundred would be enough to access all three, and that was a great price for the life-saving +10 in all Physical stats. Only the Ice Pond was kept a secret, as it was the true core of the Brotherhood’s strength.

Cultivators streamed in from the nearby towns, slowly at first. Then, news began to spread, and people arrived from farther and farther away to partake in the brotherhood’s resources. Credits were flowing in at a tremendous rate, more than ten thousand a day, and the brorillas took care of any troublemakers. Thanks to the influx of people, the nearby Valville was flourishing, too.

The Brotherhood was still relocating its headquarters from the town to the forest, and the main building was almost built by now, as were the training grounds and gyms. Due to the nature of their resources, most members chose Physical-oriented paths.

On the surface, everything was going great. But in reality…the professor was worried sick. Both for Jack, whose every battle she watched with bated breath, and for the future. Their faction’s leader had just defeated the sharken scion, revealing his true identity, and the Animal Kingdom wasn’t above playing dirty. They had to gather power fast.

For that reason, she let some nearby factions use the resources for free in exchange for a sworn alliance. She also kept their massive profits at hand, ready to buy whatever defensive items were necessary at a moment’s notice.

All in all, things seemed to be going great, but the professor didn’t allow herself to relax. The clock was ticking. When the brewing storm arrived, it would be her job to protect everyone.

And to do that, the Bare Fist Brotherhood had to grow fast.