Tower of Avarice: A LitRPG story

Chapter 1 – Floor 0: Part 1

He stood in front of the strange tower made of black stone and dark, tinted windows that allowed nothing of the interior to be seen. Despite the midday sun hanging overhead in a clear, blue sky, the environment seemed darker than it should, as if a cloud were blocking the light.

Mathew’s awareness of the crowd around him faded away as the door of the tower seemed to call for him to enter. He knew that all he had to do was give it a gentle tug to open them, and everything he had ever wanted was on the other side.

It contained promises of immortality, treasures, and more powerful and strange items than he could ever imagine. All he had to do was enter, and they could be his.

The temptation he felt was shared by others, millions of curious souls all eager for what was promised. Even now, he could see them pushing and shoving their way forward, seeking to be the first to seize the door and gain entrance.

He craned his neck backward, following the tower to its very top. One hundred stories tall, made of the same black material seamlessly constructed by no mortal hands. It was monolithic in its appearance, dominating the space around it.

The Tower of Avarice.

Page Break

“I just thought there would be something more to life.” A young man said from his comfortable chair.

The young man sat in a large office, tastefully decorated with light cream-coloured walls and gold accents. A sound machine played the gentle noise of a babbling brook, and he could see Central Park from the large windows. With his black business suit, white shirt and matching black tie, he fit in with the elegant, sophisticated air of the therapist's office.

Handsome, with black hair just long enough to brush the tips of his ears and swept back from his face, he could pass for a model or Hollywood actor. Slim and athletic, he adjusted the strap of his Rolex watch before looking up at the woman seated across from him.

A middle-aged woman, the doctor was highly recommended for her insights and, most importantly, her discretion.

“Such as?” She asked, writing a note on the pad across her lap.

“I’m not sure. Something. It's just all so…. monotonous. Waking up, going to work, exercising and going home to do it all again. There’s no… I don’t know.” He said, waving his hand vaguely as if he were trying to grab the word he was looking for.

“Goal? Purpose in it all? Mathew, people need to find their purpose in life. Sometimes it’s a career goal or possibly family.” She replied, and Mathew scoffed at the statement.

“That’s not exactly what I’m saying. But you’re right. It’s not a goal that I’m looking for, it's more like the satisfaction of accomplishing something difficult. Unachievable or unattainable.” Mathew thought for a moment, tapping his finger against the leather arm of his chair before continuing.

“I’ll give you an example. I enjoyed my time in school, not because I’m sociable or I enjoyed learning, but because it gave me the opportunity to be the best. Top of my class, top of the school! Harvard was the same, Summa Cum Laude, captain of the rowing team.

“While others were having fun and making connections, I strove to be the best, all for that single moment of accomplishment, that feeling that would come over me when I stood at the pinnacle.” Mathew explained, thinking back to the memory of his achievements.

“And you miss that now? You’re still accomplishing things, Mathew. Youngest Partner in your firm’s history, doesn’t that give you the same feeling?” She asked, and Mathew sighed.

“Not especially. It’s as if all of my past achievements are making the future easier. And it’s my father’s firm, not exactly hard to succeed there.” Mathew grumbled, wiping away a non-existent piece of lint from his suit jacket.

“Perhaps a hobby?”

“Maybe. I’ve tried a few different things.” Mathew looked away toward the window. He saw the light sparkling off Conservatory Water, the pond in the center of Central Park. The view from the office was incredible.

“What does Emily say about these feelings you’re having?” She asked, and Mathew frowned at the question. For a moment, he was silent. He rarely didn’t have an immediate response to a question.

“We’re not together anymore.” Mathew muttered, and he felt a sense of loss at the statement. It was still new, and he hadn’t yet come to grips with it. Some part of him thought it wasn’t real, that she would return. But it had been months, and she was still gone.

“I’m sorry, Mathew. I know that you were together for quite a long time. Do you mind if I ask what happened?” She asked, and Mathew let out a deep breath. He would need to confront the reality sometime; it might as well be now.

“Her mother is ill. Cancer. She wanted to go back to Connecticut to take care of her, and she didn’t want me to feel obligated to go with her. I wouldn’t do well in a small town.” Mathew confessed.

He was uncomfortable with the admission. He thought it made him seem weak to be unwilling to follow Emily to her parent’s home and petty that he would have chosen to stay in Manhattan even if she had given him a choice.

“Hartford is hardly a small town, Mathew. Are you sure there isn’t something else about the decision to let her go that you aren’t telling me?” His therapist asked. He was silent for a moment and was finally saved by an alarm on his phone telling him that their appointment was over.

Standing and thanking the Doctor, he promised they would explore it further during his next appointment before he was finally free once again. It wasn’t until he was out of the elevator and walking down the street that he sighed in relief.

He needed a drink.

Bundling his coat around him against the chill October air, he turned the corner and ducked into a nearby bar just as the first snowflakes began to drift slowly toward the ground. Not even noticing the small pub's name, he sat on a stool by the bar, just in from the door enough that he wouldn’t feel the cold when it opened.

“What’ll it be?” The bartender asked. Mathew was so in his own thoughts that he never observed whether it was a man or a woman.

“Just a beer, thanks.” Mathew ordered. Picking up his phone, he ignored the sound of the football game on the television as the bartender set the drink on the bar top in front of him. The pub was only half full, and he let the noise wash over him as he checked his text messages.

One was from his father, a simple reminder about an upcoming meeting. A couple from his mother asked for an update on his therapy session, to which he tapped a quick reply, telling her that it went well and that they were making progress.

He wasn’t sure if it was a lie or the truth; he didn’t feel like they were, but the Doctor had told him he was getting better at opening up to her, so maybe it was the truth.

Finally, an unread message from Emily had sat in his message app since last week. From the summary, he had seen a simple ‘How are you doing?’ that he didn’t open for fear that she would see the read receipt and know that he had read it.

How was he doing? He honestly didn’t know. He felt stagnant, like the world was moving past him while he sat in one place, motionless. Maybe he should try to find a hobby or something new to divert his attention. He wanted something unfamiliar, to succeed at something difficult.

As he sat, nursing his beer and thinking about what he would like to do with his free time that could be entertaining and rewarding, the television screen in front of him suddenly switched from a football game to a ‘Breaking News’ report.

The interruption set off a riot of boos and shouts of anger, causing Mathew to miss the beginning of the report, but it quickly settled as a feeling of confusion and disbelief filled the room.

“- Not a hoax or a prank. The NYPD have cordoned off Central Park, and residents are urged not to interfere with barricades. We are awaiting confirmation from the White House, but we know that this seems to be a global event.” A news anchor appeared on the screen.

He looked confused and slightly panicked, something that Mathew would never expect from a professional news broadcast.

“If you’re just joining us, tower buildings have suddenly appeared in major cities across the globe, all in inexplicable locations. We go now to a live image of Central Park, where our Channel 7 news helicopter is reporting.”

The image shifted to show the city. The New York skyline, iconic and easily recognizable to Mathew, was broken by a large, black stone tower that dominated the entirety of the park. It looked as if someone had plucked a skyscraper with vaguely gothic architecture and placed it in the middle of Manhattan’s Central Park.

“Is this some kind of joke!?” Someone in the bar shouted, and Mathew agreed.

Curious, he stood up from his seat and walked over to the large, ground-floor windows. Central Park would be blocked from where he was by buildings, but if this tower was as large as the news report showed, then he should be able to see the top.

Not expecting much and already feeling foolish for falling for a childish prank, Mathew tilted his head back and stared east.

He could see the Tower in the distance.