Tower of Avarice: A LitRPG story

Chapter 72 – Floor 7: Part 12

The adrenaline surged through Mathew’s body, causing the flow of time to slow for him. Everything around him became as clear as crystal, his eyes could trace every small movement of both his allies and Samuel.

The battle started with Baxter sprinting forward, like a hound released from its leash, now that all civility and talk of surrender had been exhausted. Every step he took sent a spray of mud in every direction. With his right arm already drawn back in preparation for a blow, Baxter was the first to strike at the Apostle Samuel.

The air whistled from the passing of his fist, and even though Mathew was dozens of feet away from him, he could feel the force behind it as it moved. With a loud ‘crack,’ it struck Samuel on the chestplate of his armour.

Mathew thought it would bend or break, that the blow would push Samuel backwards or that the man would have some kind of reaction to the attack. Instead, Samuel was unmoved. The power of Baxter’s fist dissipated behind the Apostle, sending a screen of mud and dirt flying through the air behind him.

“That’s…impossible.” Baxter said in disbelief. He had used one of his Blessings to enhance his strength, a surge of power using his body’s mana to make his fist as strong as iron. He could punch through rocks, dent steel, or instantly kill a fiend.

Yet, with all of his strength, he couldn’t hurt Samuel?

“Through faith, all things are possible.” Samuel’s voice rumbled, his face still obscured by his black steel helmet. As soon as he was finished speaking, he struck Baxter in the side of the head with his gauntleted hand.

It was almost comically how Baxter seemed to ‘fold’ around the blow. He flew through the air and landed heavily in the muck. His momentum carried him nearly a dozen more feet before he stopped in front of the others.

Through the mud and dirt, they could see that Baxter was bleeding heavily from a gash on his forehead while his cheekbone was shattered and deformed. He lay there in a daze for a moment before his eyes hardened, and he roared.

Ignoring his injuries and the pain they brought him, Baxter regained his feet and howled like a man possessed with madness and rage. His skin was flushed red, and his muscles bulged obscenely, with veins clearly visible through the filth that covered him.

“Berserker’s rage!” Baxter shouted. A reddish aura surrounded him only inches from his body as his skin darkened, turning stonelike. He sank deeper into the mud, his body weight increasing as his body transformed from the Blessing he was now using.

While Baxter was changing, Eloise snapped her whip. The weapon grew fiery tendrils that waved in the air as they grew longer. Splitting into seven separate lengths, each began to shift and change as the fire covering them turned into various colours.

‘Whip of the Seven Sins.’ Mathew thought, watching it carefully. Eloise had spent most of the Aether she had accumulated over a year in the weapon in her hands. Forgoing levels and Blessings, she was determined to own it as soon as she saw it in the Shop.

Costing millions of Aether, no one else had been willing to buy it. But after seeing it in action, Mathew regretted not trying to grab it for himself.

It embodied the mythical ‘seven sins,’ and Mathew wasn’t sure of all of its abilities. It seemed to possess a mind of its own, striking and moving with a purpose despite Eloise not swinging her arm.

“Sin of Wrath!” Eloise commanded, and Mathew didn’t know if she did it for her ally's benefit to alert them of her attack or if the verbal order was required to activate the ability. The flaming whip changed colour, becoming a uniform bright vermillion. It began to writhe, stretching out eagerly toward Samuel.

She snapped her whip again and sent the seven lengths of whip shooting toward the Apostle. They twisted and turned in the air, their movement so erratic that Mathew could barely keep up with them. The whip sounded like the wails of the dying, and they reached Samuel in an instant.

“Corpse Shroud.” Samuel muttered, making no movement to stop the whip. Time worked…oddly, around the Apostle. The whip moved faster than thought, but Mathew could clearly hear Samuel speak the words of whatever Blessing he was about to use calmly and in an even tone.

Before the Whip could strike him, corpses began to climb upwards from beneath the mud. These shadowy figures of the deceased were immaterial, their bodies translucent. They clung to Samuel’s legs, grasping at his body to haul themselves further. They lacked legs, merely torsos, arms and heads.

When the whip struck these poor wretches, they shrieked in pain and terror. Mathew could hear them begging in his mind, asking for release, for the agony to stop. It filled him with a dread and terror that he couldn’t ignore. The trembling in his legs grew worse.

The vermillion flames transferred from the whip to the dead, sweeping over their translucent bodies but leaving Samuel untouched. The look of agony faded from their faces, replaced by peace as they disappeared.

The flames extinguished, and the whip fell to the ground. Samuel waved his hand to dismiss the remaining spirits of the dead once the threat from the magical item had ended.

“It is useless to resist, Eloise. Although even I can be injured by your weapon, I will never allow the flames of your wrath to reach me.” Samuel said.

“Then I’ll just have to try something else.” Eloise responded, flicking the handle of her whip to recall it.

“My turn!” Baxter shouted. His body had grown, reaching over nine feet in height and adding hundreds of pounds of mass to his frame. The ground shook with his every step as he charged forward, his actions covered by the movement of the whip.

The giant reached Samuel in moments, and once again, Baxter threw out a simple, right-handed punch. Unlike before, the Apostle reacted to the attack. He held up his hand. The black gauntleted palm seemed tiny compared to the monstrous size Baxter had achieved.

Mathew watched, along with all the other high-level players, as the attack was stopped cold. Samuel’s feet were pressed deeply into the ground from the impact, the mud nearly reaching his knees before finding stable ground. But the Apostle was unfazed.

Baxter roared in anger. His rage fueled his transformation to even greater heights. He grew even larger, and his muscles protruded through his now stonelike skin. He lashed out with his other hand, and Samuel stopped that one as well.

The Apostle gripped both of Baxter’s large fists in his hands, slowly squeezing as the giant pushed against him with every ounce of strength his transformation gave him. The ground rumbled from their fight, and large cracks appeared in the rock behind Sameul, a testament to the forces being unleashed.

“You are weak, Baxter the Ferocious. Your anger is no match for piety.” Samuel scoffed at the title. He slowly extended his arms while gripping Baxter’s hands tightly. Without warning, he jerked his arms outwards suddenly. With a loud ‘pop,’ Baxter’s massive limbs were ripped free of their sockets.

The giant screamed in pain and stumbled backwards. Blood covered the muddy ground from the wounds, and Baxter teetered for a moment before falling and laying still. The crowd was silent in shock at what they had just witnessed. Even the Fiends were cowed by the display of strength, lowering their heads in fear that Samuel would take notice of them.

“Mathew! Heal Baxter!” Eloise screamed, turning to Mathew momentarily before striking with her whip again.

“Sin of Gluttony!” She shouted, and the flames covering the seven lengths of her whip shifted to orange as they shot toward Samuel.

Mathew didn’t hesitate. Digging into the small satchel at his waist that held his healing potions, Mathew sprinted across the space between Baxter and himself while the noise of Eloise and Samuel's battle began. Soon, others joined in, and the Apostle was being bombarded with attacks.

Ignoring everything, he knelt by Baxter’s side and pulled out several of the glass vials. The man had shrunk back to his original size; his skin was pale, and he was shivering. Mathew could only attribute the man’s continued survival to his ‘Body’ stat.

Popping the cork on the first, Mathew poured it into his companion's mouth. Not waiting for him to swallow, he was already pouring another on Baxter’s right shoulder when Mathew felt him shudder, gasp and fall still.

The Apostle had killed the first of Mathew’s companions.