Tower of Avarice: A LitRPG story

Chapter 101 – Floor 9: Part 22

With the emergence of the Fire Elemental, the thin veneer of honour and civility between the two sides burned away like dry grass caught in an inferno.

The Elemental resembled a great, fiery wolf with a body made of magma that would harden as the cold air chilled it, only to melt from the heat the beast emitted. It snarled and pawed at the ground, barely under Joseph’s control.

At that point, the battle entered a new stage. Gone were the polite, one-on-one combat that had defined the conflict at the beginning. Yule, her eyes opened wide and fearful of missing a single exchange, filled out her notebook with scribblings by the time it had reached its conclusion.

The titanic clash of powers beyond what mortals should be capable of resulted in terrible devastation of the lands outside of the city. The army, already falling back when Mathew and the others assaulted them, retreated nearly a mile away and watched as their Lords and Ladies fought the Demon Lords.

They watched as great gouts of fire reached the clouds above them, and the wind carried the howls of the summoned monster, the chants of magic and the screams of victory and defeat.

After hours, the conflict reached its conclusion.

Mathew knelt on the ground, panting in a combination of exhaustion and pain. His hand was held over a deep gash in his side where a spear had punctured his magical jacket.

The Coward’s Brand, despite its protections and the enhanced resistant to attacks in granted, was unable to stop it from stabbing into him as Alfred finally got his revenge for their earlier encounter. Mathew had given as good as he had gotten and had sent the Lordling flying away with a blast of energy that knocked him unconscious once more.

The wound in his side wasn’t the only injury he had received. Mathew was battered and bruised to the point where even multiple potions had no immediate effect. Gritting his teeth, he tried to push the pain away and focus on the moment.

The field around them was scorched, and the ground churned muddy from the fierce fighting. The summoned fire elemental was long gone, returned to where Joseph had summoned it after Miriam cut it in half.

The Lady of Lightmore was still alive, although she looked the worse for wear. Her lineage was in full retreat, the battle enough to prove that the Demon Lords with Mathew was more than their match, although not enough to end the fighting completely.

The Lords and Ladies of Lightmore would be back with an army at their backs, but Mathew didn’t care. Word would spread of the Demon Lord’s victory here, propelling their reputations toward their goal.

Hopefully, someone among the populace would take this opportunity to rise up against their oppressors, especially since Mathew and the other had proven that the Lightmore Lineage wasn’t untouchable.

But that was someone else’s problem. Mathew was just here to be the fire that cleared away the rot from a world left to stagnate for too long.

“Are you going to live, or should I start thinking about something nice to say at your funeral?” Mathew turned his thoughts away from the retreating army to look at Alivia. The Drafter was joined by Aster who was covered in flecks of mud from the melee. Both women looked as if they had been rolling around on the ground.

Mathew groaned as he lifted his hand to check the wound at his side. The bleeding had stopped, but it would be a while before it healed. It was one of the worst injuries he had since the Seventh Floor, all because he had been distracted for a moment.

He had been protecting Alivia while she was busy drawing cards. While the Drafter hurled a ball of fire the size of a horse at the Lords of Lightmore, Mathew had intercepted the spear meant for her heart.

While the words Alivia said were flippant, he could tell she was concerned for him. Her eyes were locked onto his wound, and, for a moment, he could see the guilt and worry on her face.

“I’ll be fine. Better it was me than you. Didn’t you tell me that Drafter doesn’t give you much of a stat boost?” Mathew said, trying to climb to his feet but failing.

His knee had barely left the muddy ground when he collapsed back down. His legs were too weak and shaky to carry his weight. He would have fallen face-first into the mud if Alivia hadn’t rushed forward to grab him.

“It doesn’t. But that doesn’t mean I wanted you to get yourself killed for me. You don’t need to be a hero.” Alivia grumbled.

“But I’m so good at it.” Mathew joked, leaning onto her heavily as she helped him to his feet. His small chuckle was ruined by a sharp hiss as the movement pulled at his wound, and a flash of pain shot across his body.

Aster moved to his other side, silently helping until she scoffed at his words.

“Maybe if you didn’t go running off like an idiot in the first place, we could have come up with a plan. Now, we need to face Mercy, and the others and half of our number are out of commission.” Aster complained.

“We needed to act. I wasn’t going to leave the locals to fight and die while I just sat on my ass and watched.” Mathew retorted.

“Can you level up again? I have some Aether cubes if you need them.” Alivia asked.

“Good idea. I have some as well. But we need to be quick; Mercy will be on her way. I’m surprised she isn’t already here.” Aster replied, only for Mathew to shake his head.

“Too late. They’re already here.” Mathew muttered, his voice tired and resigned.

“Ahh, I’m sorry we missed all the fun! It looks like you all had quite a trying time! Don’t worry, we’re here to help.” Carlie’s voice rang out sweetly, announcing the arrival of the six Lower-Ranked Demon Lords.

They stepped out of thin air, some Blessing one of them possessed allowing them to travel the short distance from the interior of the city to outside the wall.

Mathew tried to straighten his body, to hide his injuries, but it was no use. The simple movement of trying to stand upright sent him lurching in pain, and the wound on his stomach reopened. The potion, which could normally heal the most grievous of injuries, strangely was unable to do anything.

“You seem to be in pain, Demon Lord Mathew. Allow me to heal your injuries. Blood is my…specialty.” Osmund offered. He stepped away from the others and toward Mathew when Aster readied the spear she removed from her inventory.

“Take another step, and Mathew’s injuries will be the least of your concerns.” Aster threatened.

“Now, now. We’re all friends here. We are only offering to help. After all, it seems that Mathew's potions aren’t having any effect. I wonder why…its almost as if something is interfering with them.” Carlie stated, tapping her long, red-painted fingernail against her full lips.

“What did you do?” Alivia growled. She had her deck of cards in hand, but her support kept Mathew on his feet.

“Oh, nothing much. It’s not me doing it, but Ludwig has a talent for making things like potions and magical items…not so magical.” Carlie said, laughing as the small, ugly Ludvig smiled and waved.

“It’s a wretched existence we all lead. Not even the gods can alleviate our suffering. You really should avail yourself of Osmund’s services. I don’t think Demon Lord Mathew has much time left.” Ludvig told the group.

“Don’t be stupid. Submit to us, and all will be well.” Mercy added, her arms crossed smugly as she watched them.

Mathew coughed violently, the movement worsening the wound as he fell to his knees. His clothing was soaked with blood, and nothing Alivia could do would stem the tide.

“Poor Mathew. Looks like you’ve endured enough. It’s a pity you won’t be living up to the title the Apostle granted you. Or you could if you only ask for our help.” Mercy sighed as if she were speaking to a stubborn child who refused to listen.

“Mathew, you need to hold on! Aster, get us a portal out of here.” Alivia hissed.

“It’s no use. Only Wretched Ludvig can allow you to do that, and we have no intention of letting any of you leave. Not without certain…assurances.” Mercy finished, aware that she had the upper hand.

Alivia looked to Aster, but her friend shook her head in the negative. She had tried her item to get them out of there, but it refused to activate. Mathew knelt on the ground with his hand over his wound, trying to stem the flow of blood.

But it was useless. He now knew why the potions weren’t working and why the wound that had shown signs of healing was worsening. Osmund and Ludvig, the combination of their Blessings, meant that existing wounds would get worse, and potions were useless.

‘What do I do?’ Mathew thought, looking around desperately for a solution. He knew that they would have to fight the other Demon Lords, but he thought they would be in a better situation than this. He had been naïve to think he could battle everyone on his own, even if he did level up.

Just when he had lost hope, a voice sounded out behind him. It whispered in Mathew’s ear as if it were right next to him.

“Poor little Mathew. We had such high hopes for you. It’s a pity that this is as far as you can go. Emily will be so disappointed.”