Road to Mastery: A LitRPG Apocalypse

Bobo leaned over his starship’s door to peek at the portal to the Space Monster World. It had been a while since lightning stopped falling. The portal was slowly repairing itself—its defenses had held—but the surrounding space was much worse off. All ambient Dao had been sucked dry for endless light years around it. The heavenly tribulation must have been cataclysmic.

Thankfully, that wasn’t anything Bobo needed to worry about. He was just a little B-Grade scout of the Church, sent here to make sure the portal was alright.

It is, he confirmed. Time to return. Good job, Bobo.

“Halt!” a voice crossed space. “In the name of the Immortals, put your weapons down and walk over slowly!”

Bobo froze mid-step. He turned to find a bulky man hovering behind him. An early A-Grade.

I’m so dead.

Bobo had no backup. It was just him in one of the lightest starships available. If he could get inside and close the door, he’d be safe, but would the enemy A-Grade give him the chance?

Cutting costs my ass, he fumed inwardly. The Immortals can afford A-Grade scouts, so why did the Church send me!?

He debated surrendering. Couldn’t be worse than instant death. Before he could reply, however, a purple missile smashed into the side of the enemy A-Grade’s head, taking it clean off his shoulders. Body and head exploded, leaving only a streaking purple line which raced for the end of the universe. Bobo gasped, then turned to look at its source.

The slowly-rotating portal to the Space Monster World flared to life. A majestic silver dragon rode out, opening its giant jaws to roar at the heavens. The sound whisked Bobo’s soul out of his body, spun it around a couple times, then hastily crammed it back in.

Heavens! he thought, clutching his chest. An Archon!!

Before he could comprehend what he saw, more people emerged from the portal. An entire army headed by A-Grades, with every soldier a B-Grade. The weakest of them were at Bobo’s level, and there were even peak A-Grades in the mix. Before long, hundreds of space monsters had exited the portal, forming a small but elite army which could easily conquer galaxies.

The monsters are invading! Bobo thought with terror, but he didn’t dare move. Even from a distance, that silver dragon could kill him instantly. He had no way to let the Church know either.

Just before he fell into despair, however, he spied two more forms. He hadn’t noticed them at first, too small compared to the dragon they stood beside. A man and a brorilla, but not just any man, not just any brorilla. Those were Jack Rust and Brock! The heroes of the Church!

Jack Rust glanced over, then reappeared in front of Bobo in a mockery of the distance between them. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Jack. You’re with the Church, yes?”

“I am,” Bobo replied as if in a dream.

“Perfect. Can you let them know Jack and Brock returned? The space monsters will fight on our side from now on.” He glanced behind Bobo. His face brightened. “Is that snacks I see in your ship? Nice! I hope you don’t mind if I enjoy a couple while you tell me what happened in the last fifteen years.”

***

News of Jack’s return, as well as the monsters joining the war, spread like wildfire. All across the scattered Church forces, A-Grades rejoiced, B-Grades celebrated. Sovereign Heavenly Spoon laughed as he heard the news. “I knew it!” he shouted. “That guy’s a cockroach—he can’t be killed!”

“I’m happy they’re back,” Min Ling said with a warm smile. “We need every help we can get. I wonder how they convinced the space monsters.”

“Knowing them, they probably bebro’d them.”

“That’s not a word.”

“You’d be surprised.”

In another part of the galaxy, Elder Hero clutched a transmission stone, crumbling it to dust in his grip. “You dare return…” he muttered. “Fine. Come. No matter how they worship you, no matter what allies you find, you are nothing but a stepping stone on my path to glory. Your reputation will feed into mine.”

He then glanced in front of him, where a massive sphere floated, filled with endless divine power. He grinned. “Now more than ever, your chances of victory…are zero!”

As for the New Cathedral, they accepted the news with all the joy one would expect. People took to the streets dancing. The celebrity campaign of Jack and Brock had died down in the last few years, but people still remembered him standing against an entire faction by himself, defying the heavens, rising above expectations. That was a true warrior, a true hero. The hope he’d carved in their hearts was reignited, memories of years past resurfacing.

The face of the Church was back, with new allies, and he was stronger than ever!

The Arch Priestess smiled as she read the piece of paper passed to her. “It’s your disciple again, Boatman,” she said below her veil. “He somehow convinced the monsters to fight for us.”

Elder Boatman smiled under his hood. “Jack’s progress has always been staggering. After fifteen years and such a grand show of his return, I suspect that his strength…will surprise us all!”

“Convene the Archon Council,” the Arch Priestess commanded. “The arrival of the monsters changes our plans. We need to strategize.”

Several A-Grades present rushed off to convey her orders.

“Should we invite Jack Rust as well?” a man asked. He sat leisurely on a chair, wearing a form-fitting yellow uniform with a red cape. His bald head reflected the lamplight.

The Arch Priestess thought about. She smiled with amusement. “As great as his contributions, he’s not an Archon yet.”

The bald man and Boatman exchanged glances.

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***

As Jack descended towards the New Cathedral, the scene was vastly different than the last time he’d been here. He’d left in secrecy but arrived in full public view.

People crowded the streets. Most shouted. Some held banners spelling out “Welcome home, big bro!”, “We believe in you!” and other similar slogans. A few people even raised Brock plushies into the air. Seeing that, Jack did a double take, finding many people wearing his and Brock’s shirts amongst the crowd.

“Those things lasted fifteen years. Looks like they didn’t skimp on the materials,” he said.

“We’re famous,” Brock said, eyeing the crowds as their starship landed. “So many little bros.”

“I think they’re counted in the millions by now, Brock. Not just here, but everywhere in the universe.”

“Not millions. Billions.”

Jack turned around, shocked, but Brock had already walked ahead. He exited the starship with a hand held high, waving at the crowds, and Jack followed quickly. The cheers were deafening. He consciously restrained his aura, lest these people actually considered him a god.

Which I am, actually. Sort of.

A person waited for them a few steps ahead. Their body was covered by a long cloak, while a scythe hung behind their back. Jack smiled and bowed. “Master,” he said.

“No need for honorifics,” Elder Boatman replied. “I suspect you’ve already surpassed me, or close. A-Grade, huh? Must have been quite a trip.”

“You could call it that. The monsters are almost recreationally murderous.”

“Sup, Grandpa Dead,” Brock said.

A smile tugged at Boatman’s lips. “Follow me,” he said. “I know you want to sit here and enjoy the crowds, but we have things to talk about.”

“What things?”

“Mostly about the space monsters. The Arch Priestess is hosting an Archon Council in a bit, where I represent you, so I’d like to know everything I can about them.”

Jack raised a brow. “Why can’t we represent ourselves?” he asked.

“You’re not Archons.”

“Neither are you.”

“Yes, but I’m old and prestigious. It comes with perks.”

Jack chuckled. “Brock and I will be there,” he said. Boatman gave him a deep glance but didn’t disagree.

“In that case,” he said, “just tell me about your trip.”

“It was fun. Somewhat risky, too, but nothing we couldn’t handle.”

They didn’t rush through the city. Crowds still hollered around them. Jack told Boatman all about their trip, minus the most shocking details, while Brock talked about the propensity of space monsters towards brohood.

“Their aggressiveness is misguided,” he claimed. “Brohood can fill the gap just as well.”

“What about your side, Master?” Jack asked. “What happened while we were gone?”

“Not too many things, but all of great importance. The Old Gods returned, did you hear that?”

Jack nodded. “The scout who brought us over mentioned something, but he didn’t know the details.”

“Naturally. They arrived shortly after you left, but they—”

He paused as they passed under a particularly crowded bridge. The shouts of the crowd were deafening. Jack and Brock smiled and waved.

“They arrived in the midst of a decisive battle,” Boatman continued. “I was there too, actually. Fighting Elder Hero. He would have killed me if the Gods were even a little late.”

“Hero would have killed you?”

“Yes,” Boatman replied, turning to Jack with a worried gaze. “I couldn’t stop him, disciple. I’m sorry. He was already that strong over ten years ago. I shudder to think what he’ll be like when you duel him.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jack replied calmly. “He dared touch you, my master and benefactor. I will make sure to crush him before I kill him.”

Boatman paused, turning around to look at Jack. He kept his aura hidden, only revealing he’d reached the A-Grade, but his confidence was not something which could be mistaken.

“I hope you do,” Elder Boatman finally replied, resuming walking. “After that battle—in which Hero escaped, by the way—the Gods ignored everything and charged at the Immortal section of this galaxy. Our armies didn’t have time to follow. There was no preparation, no plan, just an attempt to stampede.”

“Sounds about right,” Jack said. “I did run into some clones of them in the Space Monster World, and they seemed decent, but they told me the real bodies are super arrogant.”

“You met their clones? Where are they?”

“I couldn’t free them yet, sadly.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“What about the Gods attack on the Immortals?”

“They went in carelessly and paid for it. They returned injured, and with a casualty. The God of Mass has died.”

That gave Jack pause. “A God died?”

“Nobody expected it. We didn’t even know Gods could be killed.”

“Who got him?” Jack asked. “The Heaven Immortal?”

“Probably. We don’t know what happened exactly—the Gods won’t say—but word amongst the Immortal armies is that Hero delivered the final blow. He’s called the God Killer now. If he got any benefits from that, I dread to think about his current power level.”

Jack shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. How did the rest of the Gods take it?”

“Better than expected. They holed up somewhere to recover and told us to prepare for a final battle in a few years—currently, that day is almost upon us. With the Church’s assistance, they’re confident they can defeat the Immortals.”

“Right. And we believe that?”

Boatman smiled. “No.”

They’d reached the doors of the main temple. The wooden building towered over them, a smooth fusion of nature and architecture, vines crawling up its walls, the wood still alive. Boatman parted the doors just enough to pass, then shut them behind him. The crowd’s cheers echoed muffled.

“Jack! Brock!” came a familiar voice. They turned over to find Sovereign Heavenly Spoon and Min Ling sitting on the pews.

“Hey guys!” Jack replied, smile wide. Seeing them brought back memories. He was also pleasantly surprised to find they’d gotten stronger—Spoon was at the early A-Grade, while Min Ling had reached the peak B-Grade.

The woman jumped off the pew, rushing over to hug both of them. “You sure took your time,” she complained sweetly. “We were worried about you.”

“Some things can’t be rushed.” Jack laughed. “Have you been well?”

“Better than I want to admit. War is a terrible place, but it’s the perfect training ground for us. I’m ashamed to admit I don’t hate it.”

“But you hate its consequences.”

“Of course.”

Jack nodded at her words. Brock stepped up, inspecting Min Ling and Heavenly Spoon with narrowed eyes. “Nice Daos,” he said. “You bros are strong.”

“Comes with the constant battling,” Spoon replied. “We were actually on a mission, but they recalled us at the news of your arrival. I don’t know why. Most importantly, now that you’re here… How about a little sparring?”

Jack gazed at the sovereign. His aura had changed. From an aloof young man, he’d transitioned to a more somber presence. Something had happened to him…but, alas, that was the nature of war. Bad things happened to a lot of people.

“I’m afraid that ship had sailed,” he said. “I’m sorry to say it, but you wouldn’t stand a chance against either of us.”

“Are you sure? I can fight a small realm above my own.”

“We can fight several. Trust me. Not a chance.”

Spoon didn’t seem too disappointed. “I kind of expected that,” he said. “There was probably a time when we’d be a good match, but, as you said, that ship has sailed. Happens.”

Boatman coughed discreetly. Jack smiled at his friends. “Brock and I must go,” he said, “but I’d love to catch up. How about we gather everyone and drink some wine tonight? I have some other friends to introduce to you guys.”

“The monsters?” Min Ling replied, her gaze fiery. “Sure thing, Jack. It’s a date.”

He smiled at her, then he and Brock followed Boatman up the spiral stairs. Their ascent was silent. Soon after, they reached the top of the cathedral, where Boatman opened a set of wooden doors. A set of heavy presences blew over Jack and Brock. There were several people inside, all radiating the aura of Archons. It was the most oppressive room they’d ever entered.

“Hey, everybody,” Jack said, calmly walking into their pressure. “It’s been a while.”