Tower of Avarice: A LitRPG story

Chapter 159 – Floor 15: Part 5

Mathew floated in darkness. His consciousness hovered in a void, surrounded by glowing eyes in a myriad of colours and shapes. They were everywhere, accompanied by incoherent whispers that drove needles into his mind.

He couldn’t understand what they were saying, although he thought that if he strained a bit more and concentrated, he could comprehend their murmurs. A chorus of voices, millions and millions of them, added to each other, crashing into his like a wave.

Mathew may not have understood their words, but the feelings and emotions behind them were clear. The celestials were upset and angry with him. There were other emotions mixed in there as well: confusion over his identity and how he had learned a portion of their secret language, sadness, regret and a multitude of other sensations.

“Don’t worry, they can’t hurt you. Well, at least not yet anyway.” A voice sounded out from behind him, and Mathew turned to see Arthur standing behind. The former King of Anglia and Apostle of Righteous Subjugation was completely at ease, standing in the darkness as if it were solid ground.

“What’s going on?” Mathew asked, looking for an answer regarding both the shades that were haunting him and the presence of Arthur. To his knowledge, the man should have been on his way to wherever the Tower of Avarice sent him next.

“I’m not living inside your mind if that’s what you’re thinking. I left a bit of mana inside you to be triggered when you used a Word of Power; it’ll be long gone by the time you wake up. I’m surprised it took you as long as it did. I figured you were the type to be eager to try a new blessing.” Arthur explained.

“What about them?” Mathew asked, gesturing to the multitude of glowing eyes all around them. The whispers had stilled momentarily with Arthur’s appearance, only to resume once more.

“Ah, those aren’t going to go away anytime soon.” Arthur smiled and waved at the shades before turning his attention back to Mathew.

“They’re remnants, traces of the Celestials that are caught up in the Tower’s influence. The Tower picks up everything from the universes it connects to, including them. It’s how the Tower can grant you additional words from their language.”

“How do I make them go away?” Mathew asked, and Arthur shrugged in response.

“No idea. Well, there is one way. Righteous Subjugation drove them away when I became an Apostle; he doesn’t like sharing us with anyone else. So that’s an option if you’re interested.” Arthur grinned and winked teasingly, already knowing the answer.

“Can they hurt me?” Mathew inquired. It was frustrating not to understand what they wanted; their knowledge of their language was just out of reach.

“No, at least I don’t believe so. They’ll get worse the more you use the Words of Power. It’s a consequence of depending on their language. Creepy buggers, but they never touched me, and I knew dozens of Words before Righteous Subjugation blocked their use.” Arthur explained.

“Don’t you think this is something you should have told me before you gave me the Words in the first place!?” Mathew hissed, and the void quivered in response to his anger.

“I didn’t think of it; it’s been a long time since I used them. Besides, it doesn’t matter so long as it saves your life, right? If you are so worried about them, just sign up with Righteous Subjugation. He’s eager to have you join the club.” Arthur offered, and Mathew shook his head.

“Get out.” Mathew ordered angrily.

“Fine, fine. So touchy!” Arthur said as he turned around and began to walk away. His body faded with each step he took, and Mathew could feel the mana Arthur had left depleting, ensuring that he couldn’t return.

Arthur snapped his fingers suddenly and spun around.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. I gave Excalibur back to the Lady. Something for the next generation, you understand. Don’t try to pull it out again; it’s not for you.” Arthur warned, wagging his finger at Mathew playfully before giving him a smile and disappearing.

Page Break

Mathew came awake with a sudden start, jolting upright in a startled shock before calming when he noticed the familiar surroundings of his tent. It was wide and made of white cloth with layers of rugs to protect the interior from the potentially muddy ground.

While most of the camp made do with cots if they were lucky or blankets on the ground if they were not, Mathew had an actual bed afforded to him from the privilege of pretending to be a Prince. He was still wearing his armour, and someone had laid him on the top of the bed without putting any sheets over him.

He was unwounded and in good health, aside from the lingering headache that Mathew wasn’t sure if it was real or a haunting memory from his dream.

It had been too vivid to have been a dream or his imagination; no, Arthur had been there with him. The things he had revealed had been real; Mathew could never have made it up himself. Running his hands through his hair, he suddenly froze.

There was light coming from the half-open flap of his tent, revealing that it was daylight. But it was the shadow on the far wall that caught his attention. There was a set of eyes there, watching him. Only a single pair, for now, but it was enough for Mathew to halt his movements and study them carefully.

Were they real or was it a side-effect of using the Word of Power? Would they eventually go away, losing interest in him if he refrained from using the Words for a period of time?

Mathew had no one to ask aside from Arthur, and he doubted the man would help him. He would have done so if he had known or was willing to reveal his knowledge.

Seeing that the pair of eyes were not going to move or stop watching him, Mathew carefully got out of bed. He was washing his face in a nearby wash basin when Alfred entered the tent.

“You’re up!” Alfred exclaimed in surprise as he observed Mathew carefully. Seeing that he was unharmed, Alfred approached him.

“I am. How long was I out?” Mathew asked.

“Two weeks. We nearly sent you back to Londinium for treatment, but Enalious forbade it. He didn’t want to cause a panic.” Alfred replied.

“Two weeks…How is everything here?” Mathew asked as he moved away from the wash basin and outside into the bright sunlight.

They were in a camp and no longer near the coast. Trees surrounded them, and the army seemed to have grown since he had last seen it. There were groups of strange humans dressed in rags, no doubt survivors liberated from the Demi-Beasts.

“Settled, for the most part. Once the Ancestral Beast died, things moved along swiftly. We’ve cleared the Bearfolk out and driven them off the island. They retreated to one of the hidden, magical paths their shamans can create underground. They are probably near the mainland by now.” Alfred explained.

“Good, then we’re done here.” Mathew replied. Alfred came beside him and held out his hand. In it was the crystallized heart of the Ancestral Beast. It was clear and caught the light, reflecting it onto the ground in a kaleidoscope of colours.

It was beautiful and filled with mana.

“Here.” Alfred stated before Mathew shook his head.

“You keep it. Like I said, it’s safer with you than me.” Mathew replied before remembering that he would need to check how much Aether he had made in the fighting. He needed to purchase some new Blessings, preferably ones that had nothing to do with the Words of Power.

He wouldn’t be using them until he understood more about the side effects. The last thing he wanted was the spirits of the Celestials haunting him more than they already were. He took a peek behind him at the shadows cast by the tent against the sun, and he could still find the eyes locked onto him, studying his every move.

Mathew shivered despite the warmth.

“We should start getting everything packed and ready to go. Now that this island is free, we’ll take a smaller force to Francia and hunt the Ancestral Werebeast.” Mathew stated, and Alfred nodded at his words.

“The Francians will agree to assist, provided they know we aren’t an invading force. It’s been a thorn in their side for centuries, and they will be happy to have the gold mine in Creuse back where it made its nest.” Alfred responded.

It took a week for the army to pack up and return to the ships, with a force left on the island to protect it.

While the main host of ships returned to Londinium, Mathew and a small party of a dozen Knights, including Marten, a half dozen Mages, including Alfred, Daphne and Enalious, sailed to Francia’s northern port of Calais, where they would then march south to Creuse along with an equal number of Francian Knights and Mages.

Landing on the Francian shore, they were met by a Noble whom Mathew had heard about but hadn’t had an opportunity to meet before. The ‘Buzz’ in the back of his neck gave him a warning that this man was someone not to underestimate.

Louis, The Dauphin of Francia and heir to the Throne and ‘Aiden’s’ equal, stood in front of his knights in full armour with a tabard covering his torso that proclaimed his house, The Fleur-De-Lis in gold on a field of blue. There was an aura about him that calmed those nearby and made them look favourably upon him.

With long, platinum blond hair and bright blue eyes, the Dauphin nodded as Mathew approached and greeted him.

“Aiden, I bid you welcome to Francia. Let us hunt an Ancestral Beast, and the bards will sing songs of our bravery.” Louis stated as he smiled.