Tower of Avarice: A LitRPG story

Chapter 132 – Floor 12: Part 1

Albrecht, King of Anglia, stood on the ramparts of castle battlements and stared out over the barren lands of the north. Little grew in this place aside from sparse patches of grass and the odd tree that stubbornly clung to life against the wind and the weather.

The castle had been built nearly a thousand years ago by Albrecht’s ancestor, Hadrian, who used the castle and the wall that stretched out from it as a bullwork against the tide of Demi-Beasts that once inhabited the north.

Hadrian’s wall was a relic now, a remnant of a bygone era. The Demi-Beasts had been driven from Alba in the time of the Romans, their bones long since buried beneath the earth. Humanity had reclaimed the lands they once occupied, and the Kingdom of Anglia now stretched from the southern shores all the way to the very northern tip of the island.

The frigid wind blew across the castle walls, and Albrecht shivered with the cold. He was too old for the North now; the cold made his bones ache. If it hadn’t been for the threat building in Londinium, he would never have made the journey here.

But when it came to the life of his son, Albrecht was willing to go to the ends of the Earth itself to keep him safe.

“My King, the ritual is ready to begin.”

Albrecht’s personal mage, a descendant of the great Magus Merlin himself, stepped out of the doorway and gave a brief bow. Wearing black robes and holding a wooden staff carved with ancient runes dedicated to the gods, Enalious had similar symbols tattooed on his face and hands.

“Very good.” Albrecht replied. He took a last look at the barren plains and whispered a quick prayer to his chosen Deity, the god of Sanctuary Retort, before following the mage into the castle.

The halls were made of bare stone, austere and rugged. This castle had been neglected over the centuries; its usefulness had expired after the last Demi-Best Sovereign had fallen, leaving the structure as a mausoleum of the past rather than a critical part of Anglia’s defence.

Still, Albrecht could think of no better place to hold the ritual. Remote and isolated enough that no onlookers or curious individuals would attempt to pierce the veil of secrecy he had constructed, but with a plausible reason for his visit.

Albrecht let out a deep sigh. The worry and unease he felt in his heart threatened to overwhelm him. Sensing his distress, Enalious spoke.

“All will be well, my King. The ritual has been constructed perfectly. The gods will respond favourably.”

“We need time, my friend. Time for him to grow up healthy and strong. I lost one son already; I cannot lose another.” Albrecht whispered in response, his voice barely heard in the stone corridor.

They soon came upon the site of the Ritual. The central hall had been cleared of all furnishings; even the rugs on the floor had been dragged out of the room to expose the bare stone. Runes and symbols had been carved deep into the rock, stretching across the entire chamber, and even the walls were not spared.

The room smelled of blood and magic; the runes had been filled with Dragon’s Blood. The valuable resource that had been hoarded since the time of King Arthur had been liberally used, along with gemstones that were placed in sconces in a ring around the center of the chamber.

Albrecht had spared no expense for this ritual to succeed. The bloodline of the royal family of Angalia was at risk.

Surrounding the room were the Royal Knights, men and women whom Albrecht trusted beyond all others. Wearing their ceremonial garb and silver armour, they had swords belted to their hips and magic-enhanced rifles gripped in their hands. A blend of magic and technology, these knights made up the core of Anglia’s strength.

Nodding in greeting, Albrecht surveyed the room to ensure everything was in proper order before walking to the grand array constructed in the center. Carefully kneeling on the outside edge of the carved runes and ensuring that he didn’t disturb them in any way, Albrecht removed the final piece required for the ritual from his pocket.

It was a small cube of crystallized Aether, the entire product of decades of worship by the people of Anglia. Albrecht could feel the power within, the swirling mass of energy that could propel a person to unimaginable strength or the depths of madness if they couldn’t handle what was within.

It was Aether that allowed King Arthur to unite a kingdom and the wizard Melin to plumb the depths of magic. Aether had killed the Demi-Beasts and ensured the survival of humanity. But it was also Aether that created the monsters in the first place.

Today, no one was willing to take the risk of using Aether. There was no need. Magic and technology had advanced enough to protect Anglia from threat. If it hadn’t been for the danger posed to his last remaining child, Albrecht would never have taken this cube of Aether from the treasury.

But what was the worth of such a paltry thing such as this when compared to the life of his son?

Albrecht gently placed the cube in the very center of the ritual array, allowing the swirling energy within to connect with the lines of runes and symbols carved into the floor. The dragon’s blood, so dark that it was nearly black, began to glow a bright red as it combined with the Aether.

The cube dissolved, releasing the Aether into the air, and the chamber began to smell strongly of spice. Albrecht stood and retreated from the glowing ritual array while Enalious chanted the divine spell that would beseech the gods for their assistance.

The mana in the chamber ebbed and flowed; it was constantly drained by the array and was replaced by fresh energy from the rapidly diminishing cube of Aether. When the cube finally disappeared completely, an intense flash of light culminated in Enalious shouting the last words to the ritual spell.

Albrecht raised his hand to shield his eyes from the light, and he could hear the shuffling of feet from the nervous knights in the sudden silence. As the light gradually faded, Albrecht saw a figure revealed.

A young man stood in the center of the ritual array. He was handsome and fair, his hair long and dark. The young man wore armour of a design that Albrecht had never seen before, leather and silver with a halo of mana around it that spoke of its magical properties.

The young man seemed unconcerned by his sudden appearance in a strange chamber, surrounded by armed men and women for an unknown reason. He looked around curiously, focusing on the weapons held by the knights and Enalious’ rune carved staff before focusing on King Albrecht.

“What do you want?” The young man said coldly, and Albrecht felt a chill travel up his spine at the dismissive tone.

The young man was dangerous, unbelievably so. An intense power within his body put the knights protecting Albrecht to shame. The king believed that if the young man wished, he could easily slaughter everyone in the chamber.

He was exactly the sort of person that Albrecht needed at this moment. The young man was perfect for their needs.

Page Break

Earlier

With the clock ticking, Mathew went in search of Rehn. By the time he found her standing amongst a group of other Players, he only had a couple of minutes left. Once he explained what had happened to him in the tunnel and the reward for obtaining the Heart, the elevator had risen from the ground in a pillar of light.

A quick goodbye and a promise to meet again on another Floor were the only things the pair could say to each other before the Tower of Avarice forced Mathew into the elevator. An overwhelming sense of weariness swept over him, and not for the first time, he hated the Tower and the gods who oversaw it.

By the time the elevator began to slow down and the notification regarding the next floor came through his wristband, Mathew had recovered his stamina, but his mental state was still in flux. He had just killed a companion less than an hour ago. He didn’t know Allen well, but the man had been from Earth, the same as him.

He had been a person with hopes and dreams and likely a family, and Mathew had been forced to kill him because the fool had made a mistake.

By habit, Mathew read the message.

Floor 12: A King’s Quest.

Summary: A King has paid a significant price to have you brought to his kingdom for a Quest. Complete his task to the best of your ability to proceed to the next Floor.

Reward: One ‘Rare’ class magical Item.

Mathew lowered his wrist and closed his eyes as he thought about his mission. It didn’t matter much what it was going to be; it wasn’t like he had much of a choice but to go along with it. But the reward did catch his attention.

Magical Items in the Tower Shop had a Rarity Rating, which Mathew and most Players ignored since the higher the Rarity, the more expensive the item became. All of Mathews's gear, from his magical armour to the knife on his hip, were of the ‘Common’ variety.

Even at the ‘Common’ level, magical items could cost anywhere from a few thousand units of Aether to millions. Mathew had seen a handful of ‘Uncommon’ magical items in the past; the mace that he received from Righteous Subjugation while having a ‘Unique’ item modifier to its Rarity had still only been classed as ‘Uncommon.’

‘If such a weapon was only an ‘Uncommon,’ how powerful was a ‘Rare’ item?’ Mathew thought as the elevator came to a halt and opened to the Twelfth Floor.