Tower of Avarice: A LitRPG story

Chapter 38 – Floor 4: Part 6

Mathew sat with the Sheriff in the patrol cruiser, with a large coffee in the cup holder next to him and a box of donuts on his lap. He had slept terribly the night before. The sugar and caffeine were helping.

Beside him, Albert had been chain smoking all morning. After the revelation of what had happened to the missing people, he had been shook. Rather than go home and toss and turn, he had stayed at the station.

His wife was used to it by now. It wasn’t the first time that he had chosen to stay at work rather than bring it home with him.

Taking another bite of powdery donut, Mathew washed it down with a mouthful of coffee with plenty of cream and sugar. One thing he was thankful for about the Tower is that with his level-ups, he didn’t have to worry about getting fat. His body stat would keep him in perfect condition.

“I don’t know how you can eat like that first thing in the morning.” Albert commented, and Mathew licked his finger clean in response.

“Hopefully, we’ll have this dealt with today, but that means this is my last chance to stuff my face for a while. Who knows where I’ll be going next.” Mathew replied.

“It can’t be anywhere worse than this.” Albert muttered, thinking about the creature that had come alive and tried to kill them. Mathew gave the Sheriff a pointed look before responding.

“You’d be surprised.”

Another ten minutes or so went by before vehicles began to arrive, cars and trucks filled with goods for the Saturday market. It wasn’t going to be as busy as on Sunday, but Mathew and Albert were actually counting on that. When they found whoever was responsible for distributing or protecting these monsters, they didn’t want to have to protect a crowd of people.

“Alright, let’s get this over with.” Albert said, flicking his cigarette out the window and heaving himself out of the car. Mathew set the donuts on the backseat, drained his coffee in a single swallow, and followed along.

The Farmer’s Market took place in the parking lot of an office building that was closed on the weekends. Ordinarily empty, it was now filled with people and vehicles unloading and preparing for the market for the day.

While Albert nodded and greeted everyone he knew, the crowd stared at Mathew with confusion. He stood out in his odd clothing, and most of the people of Arlen knew each other. Word had spread around the town of the Champion of the gods coming to their town to find the missing people, and many of them began to worry about what his presence here meant.

Mathew didn’t care about the stares or the whispered comments that followed in his wake. He was entirely focused on the single goal of finding the creatures that had been killing people.

But there was nothing here. He wandered through the crowd, looking closely at the various stalls with baskets or boxes of produce, homemade crafts, furniture and clothing. Each time he approached a vehicle with its trunk open or tailgate down, he expected to feel that ‘Buzz.’

Coming to the last of the parking lot near the closed office building, Mathew felt a sense of disappointment. He had thought they would finally find it to put an end to this crisis that was killing people in the town.

Turning to look for Albert, Mathew finally felt that sense of dread, terror and adrenaline surging down his neck and pooling in his stomach that they called the ‘buzz.’

Albert was still in the middle of the Market, speaking to some of the organizers. From his posture and expression, Mathew suspected he was trying to reassure them that they were fine and that the Market could continue, that whatever brought the Sheriff and the Champion to their place of business today was nothing to worry about.

Mathew’s eyes flicked over the crowd around the Sheriff, not resting long as he sought the source of the eerie feeling creeping down his spine.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he found it.

A pickup truck had pulled into the parking lot. Brown and rusted, it had dings and scratches all over its body. The box of the vehicle was filled with boxes and crates, and the driver was an older man wearing a suit and a large-brimmed hat.

Parking in a spot, the man exited the vehicle with a smile on his face as he greeted the others who had come for the Market. He seemed to either be oblivious to what he was carrying or a magnificent actor.

With his eyes glued to the man, Mathew walked toward the sheriff and subtly nudged him. Albert, who had been speaking with several organizers, immediately stopped talking and looked at Mathew. With a slight nod and a flick of his eyes, Mathew alerted the Sheriff that he had found their suspect.

“Well, we should take a look around before we head out. You all have a wonderful day.” Albert said to the organizers with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. The Sheriff was now keeping a hand on his holstered pistol, seemingly casually but ready to draw at a moment’s notice.

“You found them?” Albert asked once they were far enough away from anyone to not be overheard.

“Brown pickup. The older man with the hat.” Mathew whispered, and Albert looked over at the suspect. His eyes widened in surprise.

“You know him?” Mathew pressed, and the Sheriff nodded.

“Ben Olson.” Albert replied quietly, his eyes not leaving the brown pickup truck and its owner, who was now starting to unload a few boxes. He was stacking them by a concrete wall, each labelled with basic terms of what was inside.

“That name sounds familiar.” Mathew commented, watching as a box labelled ‘ Antique lamps’ was placed gently on the pavement.

“He runs the heritage society.” Albert stated, and Mathew instantly understood the implication. The Sheriff had directed Mathew to reach out to Ben Olson at the Heritage Society if he wanted more information about ‘The Pit,’ the supernatural feature near California that Champions had sealed.

“The creatures came from the Pit. Do you think he knew?” Mathew whispered. They were close to him now, and the ‘Buzz’ was striking Mathew with a vengeance. It took every ounce of Willpower to fight the urge to flee, and his fingers made nervous twitches as he resisted the idea of burning the truck and its owner to ashes.

“I don’t know. Doesn’t matter. The sale of items from the Pit is regulated. Ignorance isn’t a defence, not with something this important. I’ll do the talking. Watch my back.” The Sheriff asked, ending his sentence just as they came up to Ben.

“Ben, how are ya?” Albert said, his hand not leaving his pistol. To any observer, he looked like he was at ease, but Mathew could see the tension in the Sheriff. He was a coiled spring, ready to act at a moment’s notice.

“Howdy Albert. Bringing Mr. Larson around to see the sights?” Ben replied causally, stopping his unloading and stretching his back.

Ben Olson was tall and still in good shape despite his age. A former soldier was tanned and had a five o’clock shadow that suited his button-up shirt, brown suit jacket and jeans over a pair of cowboy boots.

“Something like that. Mind if I ask you what you’re bringing to market today?” Albert asked, his tone serious. Ben must have caught onto the change in attitude as his face hardened slightly.

“Just some odds and ends that we had in storage. I’m trying to make room for a new shipment of items in a couple of weeks.” Ben explained.

“Uh-huh. Wouldn’t happen to have anything from the Pit, would you?” Albert inquired, and Ben scoffed.

“Of course not. Aside from it being illegal to sell without a permit, Pit relics are too expensive to be trotted out at a flea market, Albert. What’s all this about?” Ben retorted.

“We’ve tracked the source of the disappearances to this market. More specifically, to you. I’m going to have to ask you to step away from the vehicle, Ben.” Albert ordered, and this time, his hand was gripping his pistol, ready to draw. The Sheriff was no longer trying to play it causal, and Mathew tensed alongside him.

“This is ridiculous, Albert! There’s nothing in that truck but some old junk that I had lying around.” Ben protested.

“Then you won’t mind stepping away from it and allowing Mr. Larson to have a look.” Albert countered. Still protesting, Ben and Albert walked down the parking lot a bit, leaving Mathew alone with the brown pickup. He could still hear the pair talking, the Sheriff calmly asking questions while Ben was growing more irate.

Pushing the noise out of his mind, Mathew focused his senses on the pickup. The ‘Buzz’ was still there, louder than ever. He wanted to burn the truck and everything in it right there, but the problem was he doubted his conjured flames would do the trick as it was.

The truck was too high off the ground, and if he conjured a fire in the truck bed, he wasn’t sure he could burn all of it at once. The creature showed that it would strike or flee if threatened, and he couldn’t risk it leaving. Not when they finally had it.

He needed to find the monster and isolate it, then he could destroy it.

Nervously, Mathew reached for the first box from the truck bed. He wouldn’t open it, just set them all aside and burn them, one after another.

His fingers had just touched the cardboard when the truck bed exploded.