Tower of Avarice: A LitRPG story

Chapter 73 – Floor 7: Part 13

Mathew was unsure if Samuel was still human when the battle began. His physical strength was leagues ahead of anyone else; his mana reserves were so deep that he could fire off Blessing after Blessing with barely a pause, stringing a variety of abilities together in unique and terrifying ways.

He had lost track of the number of Blessings the Apostle could use. After nearly an hour of fighting, Mathew hadn’t seen him repeat a single one. Samuel seemed to have a counter no matter what they threw at him.

A shield to stop physical attacks, a barrier that would absorb or redirect magic, or summons that he would allow to die at his feet.

But as the conflict wore on, even Samuel couldn’t endure the onslaught from dozens of high-level players.

It started small, a slight pause before a shield went into place, a minor stumble of fatigue that caused Samuel’s foot to sink a little deeper into the muck. A blow to one of Mathew’s comrades that would have felled them at the beginning but now left the player injured but alive.

There were casualties. Mathew watched Samuel crush bodies beneath his mace, explode his comrades with obscene Blessings or obliterate them where they stood through magic. By the time the battle was coming to its inevitable conclusion, only Mathew, Eloise and several others were left alive.

Mathew’s survival in this fight could be attributed to his varied Blessings. He kept his distance from the Apostle, hurling bolts of energy and summoning fire to shroud his form or block Samuel’s vision. Mathew left no tracks, even in the mud, allowing him a freedom of movement that couldn’t be matched.

Better than that, his form ‘blurred’ and sometimes merged with the shadows. Combined with never slowing or stopping at all, often, Samuel’s attacks struck an afterimage, the real Mathew a few feet away.

The few times he was hit, it was almost accidental on the Apostle's part. Wide-range attacks that even Mathew couldn’t avoid ravaged his body, leaving him battered and bloody.

Mathew wiped away the blood from his eyes, allowing him to see once more. A shard of broken metal from one of the many shattered weapons had struck him in the forehead, leaving a gash that a healing elixir hadn’t had the time to stop yet.

He was tired, his mana running on empty. He was no longer a blur, and the shadows didn’t cling to his body as they once did. Worse than the wound on his head was his left arm hanging limp at his side. One of the wide-range attacks had sent him flying into the air to crash against a rock. His enhanced body demolished the rock but at the cost of shattering the bones in his arm.

Beside him, Eloise was panting heavily. She was unhurt; one of the abilities of the whip in her hands was the ‘Sin of Gluttony’ to rob the vitality of the wounds she hit with it. Mathew had watched a half dozen Fiends drain in an instant, becoming nothing but husks of skin and bone as the injured woman regained her health.

But the vitality was only physical, and the whip required not only mana but her ‘Spirit’ as well. It was a double-edged sword; the disadvantages of such a powerful weapon meant that prolonged use of the magical item was taxing.

The flames flickered on the whip, nearly extinguished along with her mana. The few others who survived amongst them were in a similar state: tired and injured, but they fought on, and there was hope in their eyes when they saw Samuel in front of them.

The Apostle had once inspired that feeling just by being who he was, the strongest and best amongst them. Now, he brought that same feeling to them by virtue of the damage his body showed. They took solace in the fact that Samuel was faltering like a candle flickering in the wind, no matter how many fell or how their bodies were wounded.

The Apostle of the Outer Deity’s armour was cracked and broken, with pieces missing. His helmet was split in half, his eyes visible to Mathew and the others. Samuel looked tired and in pain, the first time since he took the ‘Adherent’ Discipline that he had ever felt that way.

His mace was covered in gore and mud, the demonic figure on the front obscured. He lacked the mana to use its special abilities anymore, and as his strength flagged, he was forced to wield it with two hands. Its steadying presence on the ground was the only thing keeping him upright.

The other ‘Adherents’ were gone, killed in the fighting by Mathew’s group and the remains of the army surrounding them. Even if Samuel was to live this day, they had still dealt a blow to him that the Outer Deity would need time to recover from.

If Mathew and his companions failed, he was sure that there would be someone else to take up their cause. The problem was all the Aether Samuel had gained from the deaths surrounding him. If he were to escape to his fortress and was given time to recover, he would come back stronger than ever.

“I’m impressed, Mathew. You’ve gotten stronger. I was worried when I left that you would never stay alive here without me.” Samuel said, his voice quieter now that he had weakened. No longer the rumble that shook the earth, it was a whisper on the wind.

“Thank you for your concern, Samuel, but I’ve been doing fine long before I met you.” Mathew replied, and Samuel nodded slowly.

“Mathew the Enduring.” Samuel titled him, granting him a new name right there on the battlefield. The Apostle turned to Eloise.

“I remember when we first met. You were as old as I was, protecting your sister against the worst the Tower could throw at you. Eloise, you are an angel. It is a pity that things must end now. I would have loved to continue through the Tower with you. We could have stood side by side at the end as gods.”

“We can still do that, Samuel. Renounce the Outer Deity and return to our side.” Eloise begged, her voice cracking as she said his name. For a moment, Samuel seemed to hesitate, and his resolve wavered. Mathew watched silently, hoping that the man finally saw sense.

Even after everything he had done, Mathew could still forgive him, just because it would mean the end of this floor. Samuel could live, and they could all move on.

But Samuel disappointed him once more. His eyes hardened, and the aura of darkness returned. He hefted his mace onto his shoulder, the weight making him sink deeper into the mud. The ‘Buzz’ pounded in Mathew’s head, alerting him of the impending combat and the difference in power between them.

Eloise seemed to crumble. The faint hope that she had gained was mercilessly extinguished. Mathew could hear the hand she held the whip in crack as she tightened her grip on her whip. Her sorrow shifted to anger before a strange sort of calm settled over her face.

“Step back, Mathew. I will be the one to finish this.” Eloise said, and Mathew looked at her in surprise. Samuel had fought over two dozen of them to a standstill. He may have been injured, but he had also managed to kill most of their group.

How did Eloise expect to stop him by herself when she could barely stand?

She snapped her whip, and the flickering flames shifted to white and roared to life once again.

“The Sin of Pride.” She stated. The flames grew stronger, obscuring the whip with their radiance. As the magical weapon grew more powerful, Eloise herself began to weaken. She dropped to one knee, and Mathew could see that she aged before his eyes.

Her hair grew white, and new wrinkles appeared around her eyes and mouth. Each second seemed to be the passing of years to Eloise until an old woman had replaced her.

“Ahh, your true age! You would give away the Tower’s blessing of youth for this foolishness?!” Samuel roared, taking a step toward the old woman.

“Foolishness? I’ve done everything I could to allow my sister the chance to achieve her wish. I’d sacrifice all that I am for her!” Eloise responded, snapping the whip once again.

The tendrils flew toward Samuel and wrapped around his limbs. The Apostle struggled to remove them, twisting his arms furiously, but there seemed to be a power greater than his own inside the weapon.

“It’s no use, Samuel. To be prideful is to place oneself on the same level as the gods. It’s a sin that will mean my death but will allow me to call on a strength far greater than yours. You will not escape; there will be no salvation for either of us.” Eloise said. She drew in a deep breath, preparing herself for what came next.

“Pride cometh before the fall.” Eloise whispered. A surge of power swept over her and through the whip in her hands. The white flames flared brighter, and Samuel’s scream shook the world around them.