Tower of Avarice: A LitRPG story

Chapter 167 – Floor 15: Part 13

In the 1600s, when it appeared that the Demi-Beasts would finally be eradicated from the North American continent after nearly a century of fighting, something happened in the East, changing the war in the Americas forever.

Corruption began to spread. It started with a small patch of blighted farmland; the crops rotted and decayed. Once the vegetation had died, something else replaced it: a mutated plant, a hideously twisted version of what had grown there before.

Corn blackened and filled with blood on the stalk, wheat that was white instead of golden brown and covered in thorns that would wrap around its victims. A pervasive sense of wrongness was beginning to grow in the West, and even the Demi-Beasts weren’t immune to its effects.

Over time, humans were forced to abandon their settlements, one after another, until everything east of the Rocky Mountains became a land forsaken by all life. In this rejected and neglected space, a new life form emerged, led by an Ancestral Beast different from all others.

It lived in the Blight, and many suspected that it was its source. The Abhorrent Corrupted Ancestral Beast was a formless nightmare that no living being had seen before. No one knew its shape or abilities; no human had successfully entered the Western Territories and returned.

Mathew and the others took a train, a heavily armoured line of carts that stretched for nearly a mile and decked out with enough firepower that any Demi-Beasts that found themselves in range would be eradicated in a moment.

The old train tracks had once led directly from the East Coast to the West, but with the fall of the Western Territories and the increased ferocity of the Demi-Beasts, it had been rearranged significantly. Now, the tracks led from one city to another, a fortified bastion of humanity to the next, all the way to the Rocky Mountains, where the tracks ended.

Of their trip West, not much of note happened. The party went from New York to Philadelphia, then Detroit to Chicago. Finally, their last stop was in the frontier town of Denver, where only a few thousand people occupied a stretch of land no bigger than a few square miles.

They were hardy folk, grim and possessing few words. They kept their weapons close by and watched the group descend the steps of the train with wariness.

It took over a month to make it this far, and they had weeks further to go to reach their destination. Using horses that had made the trip with them, Mathew and the others set out the next day without a guide; no locals were willing to make the journey with them.

They encountered Demi-Beasts of all sorts in their trek to the mountains, more werebeasts and strange creatures that vaguely resembled humans. The worst was flying Demi-Beasts, humanoid monsters with wings jutting from their backs that would circle high overhead, hurl spears, and drop rocks on them.

Some of their party didn’t survive and were buried in the ground with only their swords or staffs to mark their passing.

Each mile they came closer to their destination, the sense of unease in Mathew grew. The dormant ‘Buzz’ that hadn’t stirred since they had faced the Kraken a month before began to revive. He felt a shiver go down his spine, and he knew the source of his distress was beyond the mountains.

By the time the flat plains of Colorado were replaced by the tall mountain peaks of the Rocky Mountains, Mathew was so on edge that he could barely sleep. They rode their horses through paths carved through rock, across creeks and valleys until they were through.

As rough as things had been on Mathew and the Knights, it had been hellish on Alfred. The young Prince was deathly pale and had coughing fits that left him out of breath and near collapse. But he refused to be left behind; he wanted to see this journey through to the end.

They were all here for him and his need for the ritual to cure his illness. Alfred wouldn’t let others face danger that he himself wouldn’t risk.

The ' Buzz ' exploded with agony when the path they were riding through opened up to a cliff overlooking the Western Territories. It was like seeing something out of his nightmares.

The ground was black and red, with rivers of putrid green. The few trees in sight were warped and twisted, lacking leaves and covered in thorns. Mathew saw animals prowling in the distance, misshapen wretches that had patches of fur falling off. Often unable to walk properly, they dragged their bodies across the horrid earth.

A thick haze of corruption lay over everything like a fog. When the wind blew toward the group from the Western lands, Mathew could smell death, decay and something else. It was almost the spicy smell of Aether, but a foreign scent was layered over it.

It clung to his nostrils and tongue, and Mathew spat in an attempt to rid himself of the taste. He looked up at the sky and judged the remaining daylight. He estimated they had a few hours before sunset.

“Let’s rest here for the night; I don’t want to face on whatever is down there tonight.” Mathew ordered, and Louis agreed. They retreated from the cliff face so that the horrible sight of the land below was partially hidden and set up camp.

Unsaddling the horses, they unpacked the mules they had brought with their supplies from Denver. With their tents set up, no one felt in the mood to idle around the campfire, not tonight. The knowledge that they would soon be descending into a hellscape weighed on everyone’s mind.

Mathew used his saddle as a pillow and settled down into his modest tent. He had ordered the party to leave anything unnecessary back in New York, travelling with only the essentials. After a month of travel by horse, even on a magical mount, Mathew was a weathered traveller now.

He fell asleep almost immediately; his exhaustion drew him into a deep, dreamless state.

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“Mathew…..”

A voice seemed to whisper on the wind from the corrupted Western Territories. It blew across the red and black ground, stirring the scant remains of gnarled and warped grass that still struggled to survive. It travelled across the green waters and ‘hisses’ as the acidic stream sent vapours to join it, only to disperse after a few miles.

The voice on the wind rushed through the tents, swirling around the folded cloth walls and startling the horses, who whinnied in terror and tried to bolt, only to be calmed by some outside force a moment later.

The voice on the wind crept through Mathew’s tent and finally reached his ear.

“Mathew…” The wind whispered, and Mathew came awake with a start. He looked around in confusion but saw nothing. He swore he had just heard someone calling out to him.

“Hello?” Mathew asked the darkness, but only the eyes of the Celestials responded to his call. They blinked wearily at him, still staring at him despite all of the months since he had used the Word of Power. Ignoring them, he looked around before lying back down.

A sense of calmness pervaded him, putting him at ease. He felt his tiredness fade away, and his nervousness departed his body. It was like he was floating, and his cares were far away.

“Mathew…” The voice called again, this time much clearer than he had heard it before. Still lying down in his tent, Mathew smiled dreamily.

“I’m here.”

He knew that voice. It was Emily. She had finally found him, she was here. His entire purpose for entering the Tower of Avarice was to find and assist her. That was his wish, to help her achieve hers.

Now that she was here, they could climb the Tower together.

“Come find me, Mathew.”

“You’re already here.”

“I’m close, but I need you. Don’t you want to help me, Mathew?”

“Alright, I’m on my way.”

Mathew didn’t even question the request. He got to his feet and left his tent; the sense of floating remained with him even as he walked out into the night. The moon was up above, and he could hear the wind against the trees.

“Where are you?” Mathew asked, looking around for Emily but not seeing her.

“Down here. You’re so close!” The voice carried on the wind, and Mathew turned to look at the path that led down to the corrupted lands of the Eastern Territories. If Emily was down there, he would follow.

He began to walk; the dreamy feeling made it seem as if he were flying across the ground. He soon left the tents and the horses behind. The land shifted around him in a blur and he soon found himself in the middle of a cluster of trees.

The forest was barren, the trunks of the trees knotted, and red, horrible-smelling sap leaked from gashes in their bark. There was no grass or plants on the black ground, just streaks of red that welled up like blood from a wound.

But Mathew wasn’t concerned; nothing could hurt you in a dream. Emily had brought him here; it was safe. They were safe. They would soon be together.

He peered into the clearing through the trees, and he saw a figure. It was hard to see in the darkness; the moonlight only revealed that it was about his size, but he couldn’t make out the details.

“Mathew…Come closer.”

The dreamy quality of the world around him intensified, and Mathew slowly walked forward. He was so near his goal, his purpose in life. She was right in front of him.

“Emily.”

At utterance, the figure turned, and Mathew saw clearly in the moonlight.

It wasn’t Emily.

Mathew screamed in terror, and the floating, dreamlike feeling of the world was shattered.