Road to Mastery: A LitRPG Apocalypse

Jack raised his gaze to the man behind the professor. His eyes darkened. “Who are you?” he asked.

“This is Hugo,” the professor hurried to respond. “He’s with Henry’s Fang.”

“And?”

“I am here on orders, sir,” Hugo said in a deep voice. “We have an agreement with Professor Rust. I make sure everyone honors it.”

Jack narrowed his eyes. Hugo was a big man of slavic descent, with a flat nose and a thick neck. His ears resembled cauliflowers, and his face betrayed a man of stark resolve. Moreover, he wore an overcoat. Before the System, he could have been mafia muscle—they had some in town. Now…

Human (Earth-387), Level 11

Faction: Henry’s Fang (F-Grade)

“Here’s what we’ll do, Hugo. I will catch up with my mother. You will go take a long walk and return when we call you.”

Jack didn’t see a threat in this Hugo, and he had zero intentions of letting a nightman linger in his mother’s home. Just Hugo’s presence was enough to alert Jack that something was very wrong, and he would get to the bottom of it immediately.

When did I become like this? part of him wondered. Maybe it’s the Dao of the Fist… I don’t dislike it.

Hugo frowned. He had scanned Jack, hence his respect. “That is difficult, sir,” he responded. “My orders are strict. I am to accompany Professor Rust at all times.”

He let his dark overcoat flutter as he moved his hands, not accidentally revealing a gun handle. Jack saw that and nodded.

“Listen, Hugo. I understand you have your orders, okay? I really do. The thing is, I don’t give a shit. So take a walk before I make you.”

“Jack!” The professor jumped. “What are you saying?”

Hugo frowned deeply. A set of dangerous eyes met Jack’s. Jack didn’t budge.

Hugo’s glare was hard and professional. Coupled with his gun and large body, this was an edge that could intimidate even the staunchest of bar fighters. Unfortunately, he was facing Jack Rust, a man who had conquered a dungeon by himself.

Jack clenched a fist. A savage aura erupted from his body, burying the room in almost palpable violence. The professor gasped and stepped back, leaning against a wall to stay upright. Hugo’s eyes trembled; he looked around, then focused on Jack. His edge cracked. Jack’s eyes remained calm.

After a moment of tense silence, Hugo ceded. “Yes, sir.”

Jack stepped aside, and the slavic man walked over. Their bodies were very close to each other, and for a moment, the tension was so explosive it seemed to form sparks. Then, Hugo walked past and left the building, not looking back. Jack closed the door behind him.

“Jack!” the professor shook awake. “What— Do you understand what you did?”

Jack only shook his head. “It’s okay. If anybody wants to mistreat you, they have to get past me. How strong is Henry of Henry’s Fang?”

Her eyes narrowed. She was catching up. Jack could see all the pieces of the puzzle coming together behind her eyes. “Level 22,” she replied. “A swordsman. He once sliced a bullet in two. What happened to you, Jack? I thought you were dead.”

Jack nodded. 22 was pretty low.

“So did I,” he admitted. “Can we sit? Hugo won’t be back for a while.”

She nodded. “Bring your…monkey…too. It’s an unconventional pet, but then again, many things are unconventional lately. I like it.”

“His name is Brock.” He smiled. “The son of a friend.” Brock agreed, reaching out to shake her hand like he’d seen his parents do. The professor smiled, then obliged, scanning him at the same time.

“A brorilla? Son of a friend? You have so many things to tell me, Jack…”

“And I will. Can we go in, first?”

“Of course.”

The professor led Jack through a simple, minimalistic house filled with only the necessities—and books, lots of books. There were also a few electronics scattered around the house—a tablet, a laptop, a computer, and various gadgets, all turned off.

They crossed the corridor and entered the living room, where the picture of a smiling old man with a wide mustache stood atop the empty fireplace. The professor entered the room and sat on a fluffy cushion chair, while Jack chose a simple couch. He looked around as if lost. Brock climbed on the couch next to him and stayed there, watching the professor with crossed arms as if ready to participate in the conversation.

“I can’t believe it’s all here,” Jack finally said. “Coming back is so surreal… It feels like a dream.”

“A nightmare, you mean.”

“Depends on how you see it,” he replied, eliciting a chuckle.

“No doubt. Many think the same… I’m just tired, that’s all. I thought I was over learning new technologies when I retired. Well, guess again, Margaret.”

Margaret Rust was a researcher and professor of informatics in Northeastern University, specializing in cybersecurity. When she retired two years ago, she and her late husband moved to Valville, where they could spend their twilight years at peace. Too bad the world had other plans.

“So many numbers, though,” Jack said. “Dad would be happy.”

“Or distraught.”

“Maybe.”

Margaret waited in silence for a moment before speaking. “What happened to you, Jack?”

“I was in the Greenway nature reserve when the System came, which got transformed into a dungeon. I couldn’t leave until I beat the biggest, baddest monster around. Long story short, I did, then befriended the native monkey pack, and now I’m back with little Brock here.”

“I thought you were dead…” Her eyes watered. “Was it hard?”

“Hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I made it. Now, I’m strong. Strong enough to protect my mother from criminal idiots with terrible naming sense.”

Despite her tears, she chuckled. “They’re dangerous people, Jack. They won’t let us get away with this.”

“Leave that up to me. How was your Integration?”

“Easy. Two goblins appeared outside the house, but a neighbor—you remember Mike—beat them up with a shovel. I just waited inside until things calmed down.”

“I see. I’m happy you’re alright. Where’s Mike? I want to thank him.”

“You’ll struggle. He died to a wild dog two days later.”

“Oh.”

Jack digested the information, then nodded. “Keep speaking, Professor. I sense there’s much to tell.”

“Of course.” She smiled. “Three days after the Integration, Henry White’s gang formed a System faction and established order. They declared this town their territory. They became the bosses around here. After that, things happened. An alien arrived in the town square; an information merchant. I sold him knowledge on cyber security and got System knowledge in return. I also got an experience ball, which is how I made it to my current Level.”

She was Level 6. Not bad at all, compared to the general population. Jack chuckled. Knowing her, she’d probably invested everything in Mental.

“So, you know things,” he said. “About what’s happening.”

“I thought it was a safe bet. There isn’t much an old lady like me can do, even if I learned to slingshot fire at goblins. Information, on the other hand, is my territory. I could help us get a step ahead of the monsters.”

Jack frowned. He sensed a ‘but’ there. “But?”

She sighed. “But I miscalculated. Henry White came looking for the information. I don’t like that man.”

“Who is he?”

“He ran a shady organization downtown, extorting shops for "security" fees. I don’t know how he got so lucky during the Integration, but he ended up a few steps ahead of everyone else.”

“I see. And then?”

“Then, I miscalculated again.” The professor’s face turned into a scowl. “I couldn’t tell them no, but I tried to hide some things. Unfortunately, the alien merchant traded in information; Henry bought a list with the contents of my transactions. They knew what I had.”

Jack frowned. "The merchant sold you off."

"Not really. It was my fault. Anyway, Henry's Fang knew what I had."

Jack raised a brow but didn't interrupt again. “So you told them everything.”

“Kind of. The merchant had given me an information crystal—a wondrous invention, by the way. They store information in the crystal’s molecular structure, then read it through the System.”

“You gave them the crystal.” Jack brought her back on track. “What was it about?”

“Ah, yes. It wasn’t much; the merchant didn’t deem my lifetime of expertise particularly expensive.” She chuckled bitterly. “Then again, they do have a futuristic AI. Perhaps it could replicate our technology in milliseconds. The crystal was mostly about how to progress through the System. Listen well.”

She instantly launched into lecture mode.

“Most people around think stats and Levels are the important part; they’re wrong. Apparently, the most crucial aspect of progression is something called the Dao. Unfortunately, the crystal didn’t mention much besides the name, only some intentionally cryptic things. Then come skills; they are split into many grades and degrees of proficiency, and they are the bridge between Dao and stats.

“A skill can be enhanced, upgraded, or fused with others. The first option just makes it slightly stronger—it’s what usually happens. The other two create skills of a higher grade, which are exponentially more effective than skills of lower grades. Higher-grade skills channel your Dao better—whatever that is—increase your battle strength, and let you progress further on the path of cultivation—as the System calls its progression.”

Jack considered the information. “I think I did that once,” he finally said. “Upgrading a skill. It became a Dao Skill.”

Margaret grinned. “Very gamelike, isn’t it? Makes you wonder… However, upgrading a skill is tremendous, Jack! Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” he replied somberly. “Is there anything else before I get to the important stuff?”

“The System is the most important thing in our lives now, Jack. By far.” Margaret smiled sadly. “There is a lot more information, but…it can wait. Oh! Except one thing. Do you remember what the System said on Integration? About a tournament?”

“No, but I can look it up.”

Jack made the first blue screens reappear. Soon, he found the one he was looking for—a part of the Animal Kingdom’s message.

The first step to that power is the Integration Tournament, which will be held in twenty galaxy days (note: fifteen Earth-387 days) from now. Comprehend even the tiniest corner of the world by then, and endless possibilities will open up for you.

“I see,” he said. “What of it?”

“That tournament is extremely important, Jack. You must get in no matter what. Pardon me for asking, but…do you have a Dao Root?”

He nodded. Her eyes lit up like a christmas tree.

“Excellent! That’s wonderful! A Dao Root is the requirement to enter the Integration Tournament.You are in! My boy, you’re in!”

Jack smiled. “What’s so special about that tournament, anyway?”

“There are incredible rewards, even for participation. It will put you on the fast track forever—it’s like getting a Harvard scholarship. And, if you do well there… Well, that’s unlikely. The strongest people from all over Earth-387 will be competing.”

“You mean Earth.”

“We are part of the galaxy now, Jack. Don’t cling to old notions.”

He considered it for a moment, then nodded. “Fine. I’ll join that tournament and do my best. I’m plenty strong. Which brings us to the main point; what happened to your cheek?”

She looked deep into his eyes. “Jack…” she began, but he raised a hand to cut her off.

“You fought no monsters. Your cheek is swollen. A strongman was in your house. What’s up?”

She hesitated for a moment. He could see the cogs turning behind her eyes. He even saw her briefly consider lying before she looked straight at him. Jack felt inwardly proud.

If there was one thing that stood out about Margaret Rust, it was the speed at which she adapted to new information.

“Henry’s Fang left Hugo here to make sure I didn’t disseminate the information freely. As for the swelling… Well, they slapped me when I tried to lie. It’s not a big deal. The world is much more violent than it used to be. People die all the time.”

Jack had stopped listening. “They slapped you,” he repeated.

“It’s fine. It was light.”

“But they did slap you,” he replied calmly. “Who was it?”

She looked into his eyes.

“How strong are you, Jack?”

“Plenty.”

“It was Henry White.”

“Got it. And I assume those guys are bad people?”

“They’ve been taxing everyone at the gates, and they’ve been terrorizing the town since they formed. They’re tyrants.”

“Good.”

“Will you be careful? Please. I don’t want to lose you again.”

“Don’t worry about me, Professor. Worry about them.”

He grabbed Brock and stood up. The couch’s wooden handlebar was bent out of shape where he’d grabbed it.

“Stay here, little guy,” he told the monkey. “I’ll be back soon.”

Brock, who had been quiet so far, suddenly protested. His cute little eyes stared fearlessly at Jack. He bared his little fangs. He wanted to come along.

Jack placed him on the table and got on eye level. “Listen,” he said earnestly. “I am trusting you with my own mother, okay? You must protect her while I’m away. This is an extremely important mission that only you can complete. Do you understand?”

Brock hesitated. Inwardly, Jack was impressed; could the monkey actually understand him? However, on the outside, he was stern and earnest, looking at Brock as he would at a brother.

“Do you understand?” he repeated, and Brock finally agreed. Glancing at the professor, he jumped at her feet and stood there as tall as he could—which wasn’t much—beating his chest and generally doing his best to look threatening. He screamed assertively.

Jack smiled. “Thank you.”

“He’s cute,” said Margaret, sitting back down to pet Brock. He scowled in disgruntlement, as if saying, “I’m a warrior! Do not pet me!”

She laughed.

“Hide in the bunker, Professor. I’ll be back.”

“Take care, Jack.”

They exchanged a hug. Jack watched her climb down to the basement before turning around and walking to the door, which was white and surrounded by flower-painted glass. He turned the doorknob. The door swung open. Three gun barrels were pointed at him.

Jack grinned and cracked his fists. “Hello, Hugo,” he said. “I see your walk has been productive.”