Road to Mastery: A LitRPG Apocalypse

“John Brown and the Dao of Spanking versus Shard Presht and the Dao of Momentum!”

Before the announcer’s voice had even finished ringing, Jack’s sharp eyes were staring at the curtain that separated scions and humans.

A light gray hand emerged, grabbing one end of the curtain and parting it. Shard Presht stepped out. His skin was slick and slippery like a fish’s. His mouth contained multiple rows of sharp teeth, and his back held a large fin. Gills adorned his thick throat, while cobwebs spread between his fingers.

He was the shark-man, the scion of the Sharken family of the Animal Kingdom. And the slits he had for eyes were staring directly at Jack. He licked his lips and clasped two long gloves around his forearms, each with a large, fin-shaped blade on its back.

Jack really considered resigning on the spot, just to make him having worn his blades in vain. He didn’t need to fight; this was already the last day, and he hadn’t lost once. He could just resign.

Plus, fighting a scion would absolutely force him to use his true Dao. Though he yearned to fight, he couldn’t risk his people like that. He would resign.

However, he didn’t need to do it immediately. All scions had made it to the finals, so Jack would eventually need to fight at least a few. He wanted to get a grip of their strength now, so that he could prepare better. He wanted to see just how it felt to face a scion at their best.

However, before that…

Jack reached into the white bag he carried, ruffled around a bit, then removed a transparent ball glowing with multi-colored light. The people around him gasped.

He crushed it between his hands. The colors flew out, surrounding him before diving into his body. The notifications came instantly.

Level Up! You have reached Level 36.

Level Up! You have reached Level 37.

Level Up! You have reached Level 38.

Level Up! You have reached Level 39.

Level Up! You have reached Level 40.

5 Levels. Not bad. Jack smirked. He’d almost forgotten the surge of power that accompanied level-ups. Now… Now, it was time to start climbing again.

5 Levels also meant 10 stat points, and Jack quickly allocated them. However, he didn’t put them all into Physical. Now that he had a bunch, and that he wouldn’t really need them as he’d resign this fight anyway, he decided it was finally time to splurge a bit.

He allocated three of those into Will and one into Mental, bringing both a nice, round 10. A weight he didn’t even know he carried was lifted.

He then poured the rest of his points into the Physical substats. As he did, each point transformed into three sub-points he could allocate as he liked, but he spread them evenly. In the end, he took in his status screen.

Name: Jack Rust

Species: Human, Earth-387

Faction: Bare Fist Brotherhood

Grade: F

Class: Pugilist (Elite)

Level: 40

Strength: 105

Dexterity: 105

Constitution: 105

Mental: 10

Will: 10

Skills: Fistfighting (III), Drill (II), Pugilist Body (III), Parkour (II)

Dao Skills: Meteor Punch (I)

Daos: Dao Root of the Fist, Dao Root of Indomitable Will

Titles: Planetary Frontrunner (10)

It was finally beautiful.

The head judge had given him time to level up, but Jack didn’t want to make everyone wait even longer.

He stepped on the railing and jumped into the arena, crossing the air and landing in a small cloud of dust. He stared down the sharken.

Sharken (Earth-387), Level 40

Faction: -

Title: Planetary Frontrunner (10)

When his Dao of Spanking was proven inadequate, he would step down; until then, he’d try to expose as many of his opponent’s abilities as possible. After all, Shard Presht hadn’t fought seriously in the tournament yet.

The sharken smiled, revealing dozens and dozens of teeth in his long, narrow mouth. Then again, due to the shape of his mouth, he seemed to always be smiling. “John Brown,” he said in a hissing voice. “You have amused me greatly. Is it time for you to finally be spanked back?”

“Dunno, man. Is it time for someone to toss you back into the sea?”

Some of the audience laughed. Jack felt grateful; he’d made better trash talk.

“I am amphibious,” the sharken replied, making Jack sigh in relief. He might not have been the best at trash-talking, but he was certainly the better of the two!

He did not reply. Instead, he reached down and grabbed both flip-flops at the same time—he couldn’t afford to go easy here.

Shard Presht readied himself. He crossed his forearms before his body, blades pointing outward. He ducked and leaned forward as if ready to sprint. Only his slit-eyes could be seen behind his blades, as well his bare belly—he only wore a pair of brown shorts.

Of course, Jack only had eyes for the blades themselves, which had wide flat parts—like fins—but were razor-thin. They were undoubtedly Dao weapons, and sharp enough to cut him deeply.

He wondered if the weapons were fin-shaped to fit in with the whole shark theme this guy had going, or if the shape had some practical application. Then, he realized that, if those things hit him, his only layer of defense would be his bare body.

Whoops.

The sharken charged. It wasn’t a normal sprint. He didn’t push off the ground and gradually accelerate. No, this guy used the Dao Root of Momentum to instantly reach his full speed, creating a disorienting sight that threw Jack off-tempo just enough for the sharken to close the distance.

Jack cursed. This is fucking unfair!

Blades flashed. He barely had the time to dodge to the side, letting one arm-blade sail over his head as the other came down from below. He slapped its flat side and pushed it off-course—they had that weakness, for some reason—when he felt a strong impact on his shoulder.

He stumbled right as the other blade—the one he’d slapped away—altered its momentum in a flash, suddenly shooting at Jack again. The impact he’d felt was the previous blade doing the same thing; defying physics to change direction sharply mid-strike without losing any speed.

Jack realized he was in deep waters. He instantly went all-out. He rotated, slapping the blade below him out of the air while letting the other strike his back at a different spot. Gritting his teeth through the pain, he dashed back, desperate to make some distance. Shard Presht let him, staring over with mockery.

Jack stopped halfway across the arena, panting and sweating. The sharken, who had looked slightly ridiculous before, now loomed in his sight like death himself. Jack had tried not to underestimate his opponent, but the minute delay in going serious had almost cost him his life.

The audience erupted with incoherent shouts.

Jack met Shard’s mocking gaze. His eyes narrowed into slits—just like the sharken’s. Warm blood wet his back, and his shirt had a long tear running down its length. He had endured the strike, thankfully, though it was delivered at high speed. He wasn’t helpless. This sharken had a balanced physical-oriented build, but he focused on speed, not strength.

Jack could have resigned—it was clear that his fake Dao of Spanking could never beat this guy.

However, the mocking glint in his opponent’s eye stopped him. He would resign, yes; but first, he wanted to share a true exchange with the guy. Not one where he was caught off-guard. One where he used his poor flip-flops to their maximum.

Was it safe? Jack was convinced that yes. He was sure that Shard Presht couldn’t injure him deeply in a short amount of time, even if he had somehow been holding back.

He wanted to feel what it was like to fight a scion at full strength. His blood was boiling, his skin was tingling, and the edges of his lips were dancing.

He clenched his flip-flops and charged. Besides not using his fists, he no longer held back. Shard Presht charged too, accelerating instantly again. No, it wasn’t instant; it was significantly faster than it should be, but there was still a build-up. That made sense; otherwise, physics really would be broken.

As soon as the two came close, all color was sucked into Jack’s flip-flop—his fist, actually, but they were indistinguishable. A purple meteor exploded hard into the flat part of an arm blade, smashing it away, and a second meteor came right after, flying straight at Shard’s chest.

The audience erupted into screams and cheers.

Shard fell sideways. His momentum shifted, pulling him out of the way as a meteor flew past, and then he shifted again into a spinning motion. A blade cut at Jack, who barely ducked in time. The blade stopped in mid-air and fell at his head at high speed, but he was ready, and he dodged again. His flip-flop met the sharken’s arm from above, pushing it down even faster, burying the blade into the sand and stone below. The other blade met Jack’s clenched shoulder and dug shallow, stopped in its tracks.

For a short moment, Presht was stuck. Jack spanked him across the face.

The arena fell silent. Only the crisp slapping sound echoed, over and over, as Jack’s dirty flip-flop imprinted itself on the scion’s noble face.

Then, the audience erupted again, showering the two with discordant cheers and open mockery. Presht’s slit-eyes narrowed further. His permanent smile was wiped off his face. Anger bubbled inside him so hard that Jack could sense it, and he had no intention of staying to see what would happen. He’d made his point.

He jumped back, and to his horror, Presht followed him at exactly the same speed. Two blades slashed at him simultaneously, each aiming to bisect him. Jack had no room for errors.

He struck out with both flip-flops. One met a blade head-on and was cleanly cut in two. The top part of the flip-flop flew away as a deep gash was cut into Jack’s ribs, easily penetrating his skin and only stopping when it reached the bone. He grunted.

The other flip-flop met a blade’s flat part and threw it off-course. However, Presht turned his arm slightly, and the blade rotated with it. Its wide, flat side hit the air like a sail and came to an instant stop, letting it accelerate quickly again. Presht kept turning it mid-air, making it dance from side to side in unpredictability.

Jack dodged the sharp side, but the flat one smashed into his nose, sending him rolling into the sand. He jumped to his feet; his nose was broken, and the pain was great, though not something he couldn’t handle. The deep gash on his ribs was worse, but thankfully, his regeneration could deal with that much.

The wound was slowly closing, and the blood getting replenished.

Contrary to Jack’s fears, Shard Presht didn’t follow. He gave ample space, staring Jack down with mockery and taunting.

Jack wasn’t an idiot. Though his face burned where he had been slapped, and though his pride and Dao cried out to fight, he was the master of himself. He opened his mouth.

“I resi—”

“Is Jack Rust a coward?” Presht spoke up, covering Jack’s voice. Jack looked at Presht straight. That was his real name. The sharken’s eyes held even more intense mockery.

Both fighters had come to a halt. The audience was only now realizing what Presht had said, and hushed whispers were already spreading like wildfire. Everyone knew who Jack Rust was. Now, they knew who he was, as well. Jack’s secret identity had been exposed.

But that was fine. It would never last through the finals, anyway. The time he’d earned had better be enough.

Jack stared the sharken down. “What do you want?” he asked.

“A battle,” Presht replied, staring with such intensity he seemed to see into Jack’s soul. “For my cousin, I will destroy you.”

Jack looked up. Gan Salin stood before the curtains, staring at the arena with an unreadable expression.

Jack cracked a grin. “I see how it is,” he said. “The wild dog couldn’t handle me himself, so he brought out his slightly bigger brother.”

“Luck of the draw,” the sharken replied. “Humans cannot defeat the scions.”

“They already have. But fine. You just slapped and exposed me in public. Have it your way.”

Jack had no reason not to fight anymore. His Dao and pride burst forth. Everyone saw his face squirm. People averted their eyes as John Brown disappeared, and Jack Rust regained his true face.

“You’re ugly,” Presht said.

“You’re a fucking fish.”

Jack let his flip-flop fall. He clenched his fists. The aura of a savage warrior erupted from his body, making the nearby sand hover by itself. His tattered shirt flew off, exposing his hard, bare chest. His shoulders seemed wider than the arena himself. He cracked his knuckles. Everyone had goosebumps. Shard Presht smiled and crossed his blades.

The beast had awoken. Jack Rust was back. He laughed.

Then, he charged and smashed a Meteor Punch right into the sharken’s face.