Tower of Avarice: A LitRPG story

Chapter 99 – Floor 9: Part 20

Mathew raced across the ground; his footsteps never left a single footprint in the muddy ground as his ‘Pass Without Trace’ obscured his passage. He had never moved faster; his increased body stat from his level-ups propelled him forward quicker than thought.

He was nearly upon the first line of defenders who were guarding their tents, baggage and supplies at the rear of the army when they finally noticed him. Shouts and screams erupted as they turned toward him, readied their spears, or drew swords.

Hundreds were wearing heavy armour and the white tabards that symbolized their dedication to the Lineage that had drawn them together into this conflict. Mathew didn’t know much about the Lineages, only that Algrond was a part of the ‘Aeolian’ line.

“For the Lightmore Lineage!” They screamed in unison, expressing their allegiance. To Mathew, who knew nothing of the Lords and Ladies of ‘Lightmore,’ their shouts were meaningless. He didn’t even bother to remove a weapon from his inventory. Instead, Mathew chose to trust in his Blessings.

“Fear.” Mathew whispered, and a cloak of mana surrounded him. Like a swirling darkness, his figure was momentarily obscured from the men and women of the army in front of him. Hundreds of eyes lost track of Mathew as his Blessing took effect.

Before they could respond, the lowly figure of Demon Lord Mathew was replaced by something out of their nightmares.

Its demonic stature dwarfed anything they had seen before. It was cloaked in darkness, something of shadows and gloom. It rode on a horse as dark as night, and its hooves made a thunderous noise as it approached.

Mathew had taken out the small figurine of a horse while the forces arrayed against him were distracted. With a small breath of mana, he summoned his horse ‘Midnight.’

The lead soldiers, wielding large pikes, shivered and trembled in terror as the sound of the horse echoed to their ears. Each step the demon horse took toward them was one step closer to their deaths. The Demon Lord's eyes glowed crimson, and each man and woman swore they could feel the bloodlust and hatred that dwelled within them.

They weren’t sure who was the first to break amongst them, one moment they were united in their desire to face a Demon Lord and bring them to justice for their Lineage, and the next moment they were tossing down their weapons and fleeing for their lives.

Dozens, then hundreds, ran amongst the tents and crates of supplies in their effort to escape the approaching horsemen.

Mathew ignored them; he didn’t need to concern himself with the rabble of the army. He was hunting the Lords and Ladies of this ‘Lightmore’ Lineage. He would also send them running, then turn his attention to Mercy and the other Upper Ranks.

His objective for this floor was to build a reputation. He couldn’t think of a better way to do that than defeating both sides in this conflict.

Mathew was a ‘Villain’ after all, it was time he acted like it.

Pushing Midnight onwards, he spared a glance at the men and women scrambling to get away from the effects of his ‘Fear.’ Of all his Blessings, it was the best at clearing away a crowd.

He had barely made it through the first line when he slowed Midnight’s gallop and came to a stop. A single person remained the effects of his ‘Fear’ evidently having no effect on them.

It was a man in his thirties if Mathew could judge it correctly. Wearing heavy silver armour, he had a long spear dug into the ground with the head pointing toward the sky. It glittered in the light and Mathew could feel the mana around it, indicating its magical nature.

The man tightened his gauntlet casually as he assessed Mathew, who, in turn, deactivated his ‘Fear’ since it was having no effect on this Lord.

“Alfred, of the Lightmore Lineage.” The man introduced himself, and Mathew had to admit, these Lords and Ladies, as terrible as their reputations could be, had impeccable manners.

They could be bloodthirsty sociopaths who bathed in the blood of children and set towns on fire, but they would make sure you knew who they were before they did it. Mathew didn’t know anything about this particular Lord, but Yule had told him that very few were ‘good.’

Mathew climbed down from Midnight and sent the horse back to his inventory with a gesture before responding.

“Mathew.” He said simply while drawing on his mana to fuel his first blessing. Villains never waited for the enemy to attack first. Mathew sent out a bolt of energy; the white light was far thicker and stronger than what he had been capable of only the day before.

Rather than be surprised at the sudden attack, the Lord picked up his spear and sidestepped the bolt of light with a small twist of his body that didn’t even require moving his feet. As he was still turning, Alfred hurled his spear with enough force that Mathew heard a loud ‘boom.’

“Catapult.” Mathew muttered, flicking his finger toward the spear. He had been practicing it, changing the trajectory of a projectile while it was moving.

Someday, he hoped to do something special with it, but for now, he could only send the spear flying sideways, where it buried itself into the ground far to Mathew’s left. Another flick of his finger sent it back toward Alfred, spinning wildly with the force.

Mathew followed up on the attack by activating his ‘Blur’ Blessing. His body began to twist and turn like a hazy mirage, doubling and then tripling his image to the point where no one would know where his true self was.

Alfred dashed forward toward his returning spear and leapt gracefully over it. Spinning midair, he gripped the spear by its wood shaft and twisted it to fall back onto the ground at a full sprint toward Mathew's distorted figure.

“Nice trick! You’d do great in the circus!” Mathew taunted, each of his mirages moving in unison. He was concerned about the Lord before him. The ‘Buzz’ was silent, giving him an idea of his opponent's power.

For the first time during their fight, Alfred showed a hint of emotion. A frown appeared on his face, and Mathew could feel the anger in the man as he drew back the spear in his grasp and stabbed forward.

“Fatal Moon, Leaping Needle.” Alfred hissed, and his spear glowed with an orange halo. There was a loud ‘crack’ as his spear pierced Mathew’s illusionary form, missing his true body while Mathew continued to evade.

‘Crack’ ‘Crack’ ‘Crack’

Again and again, the spear missed its target, and Mathew’s taunting continued unabated. He was trying to rile up his opponent, and based on how red Alfred was becoming, it was working wonderfully.

“Fancy attacks won’t do you any good, Alfie. Here, let me show you how it's done.” Mathew said, sidestepping another attack of the spear. To his eyes, every movement Alfred made was unbearably slow. Compared to the fiends Mathew faced on the seventh floor, Alfred just wasn’t anything special.

“Halt Movement!” Mathew shouted. Alfred paused for a moment, the effects of the Blessing unable to freeze him entirely for long, but even a single second was enough for this fight. Mathew used the opportunity to move in close and punch the Lord in the face.

There was no special skill involved, no finesse or proficiency. Mathew decked him with all of his might.

Alfred fell backwards from the blow, stunned at the turn of events. He felt the spear being tugged out of his grip, and he was unable to stop it from being taken.

Mathew twirled the magical spear in his hands, admiring the feeling. It came from the ‘Shop,’ that much was clear from the feeling its mana gave him. Everything from the shop had a certain ‘Aura’ about it and he had enough of its magical items to recognize it instantly.

“Very nice.” Mathew muttered. Before Alfred could hit the ground, Mathew struck out with the side of the spear and cracked Alfred on the temple. The Lord collapsed unconscious, and Mathew placed the magical spear in his inventory next to the other pilfered items he had taken from Algrond’s grandchildren.

“That’s one.” Mathew whispered, already moving past the unconscious Lord. He had no intention of killing him or taking him prisoner. Better to just leave him here. If he escaped, that would carry tales of his exploits, and Mathew was sure it would help his reputation.

He was a Villain, not a monster.