Road to Mastery: A LitRPG Apocalypse

Sophie dropped everything she was doing to arrange the duel. She also informed everyone she knew, apparently, because what seemed like half the New Cathedral arrived with her.

“Hello, Jack, Brock!” she shouted as she flew closer. She wasn’t a D-Grade, so she couldn’t really fly, but she wore what resembled a space mech suit. Jack had never seen that before—it must have been a luxury item for E-Grades.

“Hi Sophie,” Jack replied. “Nice clothes.”

“Thanks! It’s new!” she exclaimed, doing a little twirl. Her voice came robotic through the suit—which apparently utilized some Dao device to spread the sound in the vacuum. “Are they about to start?”

“I think so.”

“Quick! Quick! Set up everything, guys, we must get good shots!”

At her command, her entire crew of photographers, projection stone specialists, and all sorts of media experts fanned out. They established themselves in various positions to ensure they had a good outlook no matter which direction the battle spread in. Of the entire crew, only Sophie was an E-Grade. Out of the entire audience, in fact, she was one of the few people wearing mech suits.

Thousands of people spread out on a barren, airless celestial body. It was the moon of a large, uninhabitable planet in the New Cathedral’s solar system, on which Brock and Starhair were set to duel.

This wasn’t the original location of the duel. After all, with two people at roughly the peak B-Grade power level duking it out, any nearby planet was bound to be destroyed. They’d originally selected an empty region of space, but Sophie swooped in, claiming she’d already gotten permission from the Arch Priestess to use a planet. She said it would make for a much more impressive battle. Basically, she wanted to make this duel a public event which would go down in the history books, using it to further increase Jack and Brock’s fame.

The crowd was on one of the planet’s two moons. Sophie’s media crew had brought along chairs and set up a stadium, of sorts, where they’d also installed a massive projection screen. After all, the duel would be taking place a tremendous distance away—from the moon to the actual planet—and almost nobody could see that far.

As for the projection itself, a group of B-Grades had been tasked with approaching the battle and recording it from up-close, or as up-close as they could get without risking interference. In Sophie’s words, this was a grand, grand, grand event!

Jack looked around. Someone had spread their Dao to create a bubble of air and decent temperature. On the small spectator field, there were stands with food and drinks. Everyone was gathered in groups, talking excitedly about the upcoming duel while loading all sorts of delicacies on their plates. It resembled a party. And, while Jack understood the need to keep things that way, he couldn’t help feeling a little bitter.

Duels weren’t supposed to be like this. They weren’t spectacles. They were real battles, of real people, with real stakes. There was nothing fun about them.

He sighed as he paced towards a familiar figure. “Hello, Master,” he called out. “Enjoying the show?”

Elder Boatman turned around. This was the energy clone he’d made to accompany Jack and Brock. They hadn’t had much contact yet because both disciples were too busy cultivating to meditate on the Dao.

“As much as you are,” the Elder replied in his gravely voice. “Jack, this is Elder Soresight. Soresight, this is my disciple, Jack Rust.”

“A pleasure, Elder,” Jack said, eyeing the other man. It was an elderly-looking individual draped in dirty monk robes. He seemed close to the end of his life. Yet, his eyes and face glowed with energy, like he’d fallen into the pot of kindness as a child.

He was a middle A-Grade.

“The pleasure is all mine, Jack,” the Elder replied. His voice was soft, yet energetic. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Seen, too. You make for interesting interviews.”

Jack laughed humorlessly.

“Have you had anything to eat yet, Jack?” Elder Boatman asked. “If I may suggest…”

He waved his hand, and a disc teleported to his hands. There was a glass of what looked like orange juice, as well as a plate stuffed with all sorts of delicacies. Well, delicacies for the New Cathedral. Jack found the gum worms and rotten-looking fruit less than appealing.

“Thanks,” he replied, accepting the disk. “How did you teleport so many objects so casually?”

“I have my ways,” the Elder replied. A hundred feet to the side, a gray alien who’d just gotten off the food line looked surprised at his now-empty hands. He grumbled something, then walked back to the start of the line.

“It’s starting!” Sophie’s voice rose over the crowd, ushering everyone to their seats. Jack sat next to the two Elders at the very first row. There was one more Elder present, sitting far to the side. The Arch Priestess hadn’t attended.

“That’s your spiritual companion,” Elder Soresight noted, looking at the large projection screen. “Are you worried about him?”

“Not at all,” Jack replied. “Brock knows what he’s doing. Since he challenged Starhair, he must have confidence in winning. Besides…” He grinned. “I really look forward to seeing his current power.”

The Elder nodded, and all three of them turned their sights to the screen.

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There was no atmosphere on this planet. This was one of the solar system’s outer planets, so the rock that made it up was beyond cold. A dark white color made up the entire surface.

Brock and Starhair stood ten miles apart on a barren plain. They seemed tiny compared to the planet, but their vast auras towered higher than the tallest mountains. They were like two gods in humanoid form.

Brock was calm. A pair of red shorts was his only garment. He’d shelved the Bro Code and held his Goldwood Staff with both hands, completely unperturbed by the crowd. He’d fought with real stakes before—a little bit of publicity was nothing to him.

Starhair, on the other hand, was clearly affected by the pressure. He wanted to win this so he could escape his position as personal assistant and return to being the elite he knew he was. He secretly gripped his fists. His aura flickered, making his white robes flutter.

I will not lose to a monkey, he resolved himself. I’m Starhair. A 6500-mile peak B-Grade. I will win.

The two just stood there and waited for the signal to start. As the distant crowd settled into their seats, Sophie’s voice washed over the entire planet. “Welcome, everyone, to a battle for the ages!” she shouted. Loud cheers followed—clearly pre-recorded.

“We bring to you a duel between two exceptional cultivators. On the right side we have Envoy Starhair—a peak B-Grade human following the Dao of Stars! However, Starhair is more than just an elite at his level. He sports a colorful streak of war accomplishments as a member of the legendary Spoon Squad!”

More cheers came. Real ones this time. Either Starhair was more known than Jack expected, or the Spoon Squad were war heroes.

“On the other side,” Sophie continued as the cheers died down, “we have Brock the Brorilla! Some of you know him from the recent broadcasts.” A new wave of cheers confirmed her words. “He follows the Dao of Brohood, and is the spiritual companion of Jack Rust, the legendary ten-thousand-mile cultivator of the Fist! However, don’t think Brock is any sort of sidekick. With a spectacular 8800-mile breakthrough into the B-Grade, he is a prime genius in his own right, an unprecedented talent for the last hundreds of thousands of years, only surpassed by his own brother. With a cultivation at only the middle B-Grade, he dares to challenge Starhair, a known elite at the peak B-Grade! Give it up for Brock the Brorilla!”

The crowd exploded. Jack was so taken aback by the intensity of these cheers that he forgot to hold his food, letting a bit of his orange juice fall to the ground. The very moon below them shook by the crowd’s passion.

“The hell?” he asked.

“You might not know, but Brock is a crowd favorite,” Elder Boatman explained with mirth. “His plushies, stickers, and shirts have become household items in the New Cathedral. People pride themselves in being part of the so-called Bro Army.”

“What bro army?” Jack asked.

“Brock said so in a broadcast. Everyone wants to participate, apparently. Who would have thought?”

Jack shook his head, turning back to the screen.

“I hope everyone is ready,” Sophie said, her voice ramping up. “Let’s not keep our fighters waiting any longer. You just know they’re rearing to go at it. The duel is to first blood, as always. Give it up for both our fighters, and here. We. Go. It’s Fisting Time!!”

Jack groaned.

The moment she spoke the final word, Brock and Starhair launched at each other like twin rockets. They closed the ten-mile distance in the blink of an eye. A staff smashed forth. Three thick hair strands rushed to meet it. The two collided in the middle of the plains, and instantly, the projection zoomed out. The entire plains disappeared. A hundred-mile crater was formed beneath their feet, causing the entire planet to shake and cracks to form everywhere.

This was just the opening salvo.

Staff and hair clashed against each other. Every strike was cataclysmic. Entire parts of the planet were shorn off by the shockwaves, peeling it as one would an apple. They exchanged strikes rapidly.

Starhair threw three hair strands against Brock’s staff, then had the other three attack from the other side. Brock took one hand off his staff, placing his palm against the hair strands. Burning golden light erupted. The hair shrunk back, unable to approach despite their starry might, as Brock’s light pressed on. Starhair teleported away. The light reached him regardless, because it moved at light speed and spread in every direction, and he had to use his hair strands as a shield. All six converged before him, hiding him completely to block the light. Brock flashed right in front of him, smashing a staff into the shield and sending Starhair flying.

The crowd cheered. Jack took a sip of his orange juice, then spat it on the floor and coughed. This was no orange juice—it tasted like orange-colored blood.

“What the hell is this?” he asked.

“Orow milk. Very nutritious,” Elder Boatman explained, not taking his eyes off the screen. Jack grumbled and returned to watching.

Brock pursued Starhair’s retreat. The two jumped around the planet, easily covering its circumference. As another staff strike landed, rebounding against the shield of bouncy hair, Starhair roared out. All six of his strands spun around like a chainsaw. They turned sharp, too, eviscerating the very space around him. He dove for Brock, who didn’t retreat. He simply raised his staff to defend.

Gold and blue light spread in two opposite cones, temporarily outshining the sun. Energy erupted at colossal quantities. Jack didn’t even need to watch the screen; he saw the massive shockwave spear through the planet, slicing it cleanly in half, revealing a molten core. Lava spilled into space, chilling instantly and turning into dark rock. Planetary fragments were launched in all directions, all at least the size of mountains. A few headed for the spectators’ moon but were quickly deflected by a couple of B-Grades. Another few crashed into the second moon, taking it off its orbit and resulting in massive explosions. The spectacular fireworks were clearly projected in the screen.

The duel of Brock and Starhair was still ramping up. Starhair’s entire body was shining. Each strand of hair carried the weight of a star, powered by controlled nuclear fusions. They moved at blinding speed, too. Beneath their titanic strikes, the planetary fragments shattered, showering the universe in specks of frozen rock.

The power of an elite peak B-Grade was nothing to scoff at. But Brock was strong, too.

At some point, the Bro Code had appeared in his hands. Hymns filled the world. They reached every ear, every heart. Brock flipped the Bro Code to a page depicting a multi-armed brorilla. Suddenly, ten thousand golden arms erupted from his back, each over a mile long. They shone brilliantly.

So did Brock’s eyes. He looked straight at Starhair, unperturbed by his hair. “It’s spanking time,” he declared. The ten thousand arms rained out, all with their palms straight. They collided with Starhair’s hair. Every strike ended with the hands pushed back, but there were too many of them. Starhair couldn’t block them all, and he could not approach Brock either, as the arms were denser the closer he got. Brock was taking a page off the space octopus’s book—quite literally.

Palm strikes rained forth. Starhair flashed, teleporting continuously in every direction to dodge Brock’s slaps. Brock mirrored his opponent’s movements to keep himself a mile away, at the very edge of his attack range.

Starhair was looking for a gap in Brock’s defenses but found none. Enraged, he roared and charged. His hair spun around again. He cut through a hundred arms in an instant, rushing towards Brock. However, for every arm he sliced off, ten took its place. The sliced ones regenerated, too. Brock was like a hydra.

“No bro dies alone,” Brock chanted, his eyes and body golden. “If one bro lives, everyone does. We only fall together.”

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