Road to Mastery: A LitRPG Apocalypse

Despite his resolve to train, Jack took Brock and spent an hour after leaving the arena to visit a seaside cafe—and not because he liked the coffee. A guillotine was hanging over his head, and if Master Shol refused to help, he needed to do something. With the light of day and his frustration vented, his thoughts would hopefully flow smoother.

An hour later, Jack entered his house, let Brock snack in the kitchen, and headed directly to the basement.

“Good afternoon, Master,” he said. The old ghost was meditating on the treadmill, and he opened his eyes as Jack walked in.

“Welcome, disciple,” he replied. “You won again.”

“I did.”

“And you are here to train.”

“Mostly.”

Their interaction was a bit awkward after the morning’s altercation, but Jack felt glad for Master Shol’s good heart. Though they disagreed on some things, and though Jack had shown great disrespect in Master Shol’s eyes, he still continued to train him.

“I thought hard about my problem, Master,” Jack began. Master Shol frowned in warning but didn’t interrupt. Of course, Jack didn’t intend to ask for his help again. “I have a few ideas on how to deal with things, but I would like your advice, if you don’t mind.”

Master Shol nodded. “Go on.”

“We cannot escape, and we cannot find someone to defend us, nor can we convince the Animal Kingdom to let us be. Therefore, I only see three options. The first is for me to leave the planet and the faction, and my faction to denounce me. Do you think that could work?”

“It might, but there is no guarantee,” Master Shol replied easily. “They could still be culled as an example. They’d have to leave your base and scatter around the planet so they are not a target.”

“Yes, that’s what I had in mind.”

Master Shol nodded. “Two more things. The first is a technicality; a faction leader cannot leave or disband their faction, except by death. Forming a faction binds you for life. You would have to kick out all your members instead.”

Jack raised a brow. He hadn’t known this information, but that was okay. It was just a technicality for now.

“The other thing is that you can’t do that directly after the tournament, or even now, before it’s over. Your enemies are not idiots. They intend to wage war against you after the tournament is over to prove that they don’t need the Animal Kingdom to fight their battles for them. Moreover, they certainly have people keeping an eye on your faction. If you try to scatter them now, they will be hunted down. Some will escape, but many will die. Unless you want to take that risk, you should first wage war against the scions, defeat them, and then leave the planet and scatter your faction before the grace period is over.”

“I see,” Jack replied, nodding. He had his alliance, and so did the scions. Fighting the third world war was dangerous, but it didn’t sound like he had a choice. He just had to hope his allies were in for it. “That sounds complicated.”

“Only if you can’t kill them.”

Jack looked up in surprise. The casual look of his master, like he’d said nothing special, shook Jack to the core. It really drove home just how brutally violent this new world was.

“I see,” he replied, more weakly than before. He then continued, “The next option I had in mind was similar. I leave the planet after the tournament—and after defending my faction, as you said—but this time, I return with a big-ass starship, shove all my people in there, and travel to far-off lands. But I don’t know how space travel works. Do you think it’s feasible?”

“Unlikely,” Master Shol replied quickly. “You probably refer to starships similar to what your cryptic friend bought at the auction. Those aren’t meant for space travel. Reaching even the closest star system would take centuries. These ships are just meant to travel around a planet faster, as well as access the satellite bases that some high-grade factions build. At most, you can use them to explore neighboring planets.”

“Oh,” Jack deflated. “So, the only way to meaningfully cross space is teleportation?”

“There are other ships, too. If you can reach the D-Grade, you can use space-warping starships that can cross great distances in the blink of an eye. In theory, you could use one of them to transport your entire faction to the Exploding Sun constellation, but reaching the D-Grade in a year is…” he hesitated, “highly unlikely. Not to mention buying a ship like that. Their prices are astronomical.”

“Hmm.” Jack frowned in thought. “What if I found a D-Grade immortal with a space-warping starship to ferry us?”

“That is also highly unlikely. Not impossible, mind you, but improbable, and it includes the risk of being at that immortal’s mercy. Most D-Grade immortals don’t even have ships like that. I don’t. Do you really think you can win a world war and become close friends with a high-level Immortal in less than a year?”

Jack grumbled. Highly unlikely my ass.

“You could maybe buy a service like that,” Master Shol continued, “but it would include selling your soul and body to the lowest bidder, and you’d probably get cheated anyway.”

“Okay.”

“Is there a third option?”

Jack couldn’t tell whether Master Shol found this amusing or heart-breaking. “Yes,” he replied, clenching his fist. “After the tournament is over, we go to war and exterminate the scions, the Ice Peak, and all their allies. We make the entire planet our accomplices. What’s the Animal Kingdom going to do then? Nuke the planet?”

Master Shol’s gaze told him everything he needed to know.

“No way,” Jack said breathlessly, eyes opening wide. “They would actually nuke the planet!?”

“There are always bigger fish, Jack. And where there’s bigger fish, there’s a need for examples. The Animal Kingdom never takes losses.”

“Fuck me…”

“Exactly.” Master Shol finally stood, dusting off his phantasmal orange robes—needlessly, of course. “Take heart, disciple. As you said, there are ways, and I’m proud that you thought of them yourself. They might be ugly, but in the end, everything depends on your own strength. If you can reach the right heights, you will protect your people. If not, they will die. So train hard and win this tournament. You can consider your next steps after that.”

Jack looked up, clenching his fists hard. That’s right. In the end, I just have to get stronger. I’ll figure out the rest when the time comes.

“Thank you, Master. Your advice has helped me extremely.”

“It’s a good thing you understand gratitude a bit better now,” Master Shol replied, making Jack grimace. He hadn’t forgotten about that. “Then, let’s get started. Your skills won’t advance by themselves. Go Drill.”

At least, he was a good person.

“Yes, Master,” Jack replied. He grabbed a practice target from the steadily dwindling heap, anchored it to the wall, took position where his punching arm came two feet short, and started punching.

He went at the task with a single-mindedness that surprised even himself. Despair and helplessness drove people to their limits, and Jack wasn’t an exception. Under the pressure of the scions and the Animal Kingdom, he was forged like a sword, and his potential was violently drawn out.

Master Shol watched wordlessly from the side.

An hour later, Jack managed to break the target twelve times in a row. His fist crossed the air, and the punch traveled beyond where his fist stopped, exploding directly on the target and blasting it to smithereens.

“That’s good enough,” Master Shol said. “Move another foot back. When you can reliably break the target from that distance, we will move on.”

Jack complied, taking a step back. His fist crossed the air, shooting out shockwaves that came up short. He only used his good hand for now, as getting used to the feeling was the important part. Once he had it down, learning to use the other hand as well would be a walk in the park.

Over the next three hours, he managed to break the target a few times, but he was far from 100% accurate. His punch fizzled out or exploded midway most of the time. Jack kept trying, despair infiltrating his psyche. After all, he might face Rufus in any round. He had to advance as fast as possible.

“Enough, enough,” Master Shol said after some point. “You have already practiced this enough for today. You are now mindless like a toad. Let’s move to Parkour.”

“Yes, Master,” Jack replied obediently, suppressing his urge to keep punching. Master Shol nodded.

“Say, Master,” Jack asked as they walked to the other room, “how strong do you think I am, compared to the other fighters?”

His master thought for a moment. “The remaining eight of you are all roughly at the same level,” he finally replied. “Only the leonine scion is a cut above the rest, and your friend Edgar is a cut below.”

Jack grimaced at the sound of Rufus’s strength. Even his own master praised him. “Edgar is trying really hard,” he said to defend his friend.

Master Shol gave him an odd look. “I know,” he replied. “His strength might be slightly lacking right now, but haven’t you noticed?”

“Noticed what?”

“His talent is exceptional! Reaching this level was a given for you, but that Edgar fellow had to fight for every inch he walked. When he arrived at this tournament, he was so weak I didn’t even take notice of him. Suddenly, he’s in the top eight. Maybe luck played a part, but it doesn’t change the fact that nobody has improved more than he has, and he doesn’t even have the benefit of the Frontrunner titles like the rest of you little monsters.

“He had nothing special compared to any other participant at the start, no unique advantage to give him an edge, yet he stood out brilliantly. That is the very definition of talent. Moreover, his state of mind is wonderful, too, and his Dao is rare and powerful. His future potential is no less than yours. No wonder that lizard took him in as a disciple.”

Jack nodded, surprised by this torrent of compliments for Edgar. He knew these things, of course, but hearing Master Shol praise someone so excessively was a new experience.

Jack felt proud for his friend. “Yeah, Edgar is like that,” he said with a genuine smile. Not a hint of jealousy was in his heart.

Master Shol gave Jack a deep glance, then nodded. His face, that had been hard and expressionless since their morning fight, softened imperceptibly.

“Many of you are talented, actually,” he said after a moment. “It is rare for scions to participate in an Integration, as discovering an inhabited planet before the System is like looking for a needle in a haystack. However, when it does happen, they usually blow the rest of the competition out of the water. That is not the case here. You, Dorman Whistles, Xi Liang… You are outliers. Dorman Whistles is from the same paste as you, and Li Xiang is extremely gifted at martial arts. If he wasn’t so old, half the immortals would have fought over him. A shame, really.”

“It’s the scions’ fault for messing with Earth,” Jack said with pride.

“I guess it is… And then, there’s that Sage fellow. Even I can’t see through him.”

Jack stopped and turned to look. “You can’t!?”

“I can’t.” Master Shol shook his head. “Something is off about him, though I can’t put my finger on it. I guess he’s perfectly suited for the Barren High, after all—almost too perfectly. That’s the faction his master is from; a remote group of ascetics that are famous for their prophecies. People come to consult them from across the galaxy, even the illustrious B-Grades, and they hold great sway in this constellation. They’re also very secretive and mysterious.”

“Oh yeah, he fits like a pea in a pod.” Jack nodded. “He strikes me as a good guy, though.”

“I didn’t say the opposite. He’s just…more than meets the eye.” Master Shol looked down for a moment. “Anyway. Parkour.”

Jack opened the door to let his Master pass, revealing the sparring room filled with gym equipment. On the other side, Sparman opened his eyes.

“Welcome, Master and Master’s Master,” he said, then looked at Jack. “I am ready for another six breath-taking seconds with you, Master.”

Jack had disliked this robot at the start, but now, he was slowly growing to like it. Compared to the desperate struggle that permeated this tournament, Sparman’s casual smugness was a breath of fresh air.

“One day, Sparman. One day…” he said, then settled into a running stance. “Catch me if you can.”

“With pleasure.”

They darted around the room, playing tag. They were blurs that zoomed from end to end, one moving up, down, around, or through gym instruments, and the other just dashing with little technique but great speed. Jack maneuvered at the edge of his skills, only narrowly dodging Sparman’s open hands every time.

Whenever he was caught, they took some distance from each other and restarted. Master Shol watched for some time, then got bored and walked back to the other room to keep meditating.

Hours passed.

Sparman’s open hand slapped Jack’s back, sending him rolling into a wall. Despite that, Jack had a big smile on his face. “Thirty seconds!” he yelled with pride. “That’s a new record!”

“That’s what she said,” Sparman replied in a deadpan manner. “Congratulations, Master.”

Jack gave him a weird look. “How are your jokes getting even worse?”

“I’m adapting to you, Master.”

Silence stretched for a moment. Jack was the one to break it. “Well, I got to thirty seconds, anyway. My skill upgrade should be just around the corner.” He smiled. “By the way, Sparman, what time is it?”

“Eight thirty, Master.”

“Eight thirty? Shit! Thanks, Sparman. See you!”

Jack waved goodbye to Master Shol, too—who was still cold at him, if endlessly helpful—and rushed upstairs. He had a very important appointment at nine o’clock, and he really shouldn’t be late.

After all, he owed someone a drink.