Tower of Avarice: A LitRPG story

Chapter 20 – Floor 2: Part 2

The last painting was framed in black wood, cracked and splintered. It showed Mathew running for his life from a crowd of people. He had his hands up in front of his face, screaming with terror. Incredibly realistic, Mathew could even see the tears running down his cheeks.

The Mathew in the painting wore a black business suit and a white shirt. Pinned to his lapel was a single white feather.

The wristband displayed the summary automatically.

Discipline: Coward

Rarity: Extremely Rare (You have earned the contempt of a god through your actions, granting you the choice of this Discipline.)

Attributes per Level: Body ++, Mind +,

Summary: You are afraid to fight honourably and face challenges as a coward would. The god of Chivalrous Combat offers you this Discipline to mock your behaviour. Enhance your body by running from risk, and train your mind to identify hazards to avoid them.

Unique Blessing: The Coward’s Brand (Passive)

Summary: You are so fearful of combat and being harmed by your foes that you have branded your body with a magical symbol to protect it from harm. Using your mana, The Coward’s Brand will make your skin, muscle, and bones resistant to:

Tier 1: Slashing

Tier 2: Slashing/Piercing

Tier3: Slashing/Piercing/Bludgeoning

Resistance given is determined by Body/Mind Attributes

Cost: 15000 Aether

Mathew paused, staring at the painting and Discipline summary. This was intended to ridicule him for not fighting the undead and the statue during the test in a fair and ‘chivalrous’ manner.

“That’s absurd. I found a better way to fight, and you’re mocking me for it?” Mathew scoffed at the notion.

Still, this Discipline was appealing. Resistance to attacks? The body stat provided more strength and endurance, and Maria had been able to punch a hole in a stone wall without cutting her hand. But Mathew had been focusing on his ‘Mind’ attribute. Resistances could be extremely useful, especially since it was passive. He assumed that meant it would be active all the time.

“Mathew, Coward.” He chuckled at the sound. It was more attractive than ‘Preacher’ or ‘Occultist.’ He wouldn’t have to worry about people thinking he was about to give a sermon or conduct a ritual sacrifice.

Besides, he already had an offensive Blessing. He could use something defensive, like the brand.

“I choose Coward.” Mathew declared, and his accumulated Aether plummeted. Switching tabs, he reviewed his new stats.

Name: Mathew Larson

Discipline: Coward (Level 1)

Charlatan (Level 5)

Level: 6

Aether: 212

Attributes

Body: 1.9

Mind: 2.6

Spirit: 0.3

Blessing

Create and Control Flames III (Max Tier)

The Coward’s Brand (Tier 1)

Mathew felt a wave of energy surge through his body and out to his limbs. His muscles contracted and spasmed for a moment before the energy returned to his chest. He felt more robust, his mind refreshed. The energy gathered in a single spot near his right shoulder.

A flash of intense heat seared his skin, causing discomfort but not pain. Pulling the collar of his white shirt, he noticed that he was now wearing a black business suit with a white feather on his lapel. Ignoring the outfit, he lifted the shirt to reveal the symbol beneath.

It was of a sword flashing downwards. It was black against his white skin like a tattoo, and it glimmered faintly in the torchlight of the room like it was metallic. He could feel it tugging slightly on his mana, drawing it to the symbol and returning it to his chest in an endless loop.

“I’ll need to test it out later, but let’s get out of this room for now.” Mathew remarked, fixing his clothing to hide the symbol. He took a step forward and noticed that he wore black, polished dress shoes to match his suit and a bright yellow tie.

Mathew sighed, flicking the white feather with his hand and feeling that it was securely attached to his jacket. A player could purchase new clothing from the shop, but they were expensive. More often than not, they provided buffs and bonuses, restricting them to higher levels.

They were also dependent on a player’s Discipline, meaning that whatever was available, Mathew suspected they would stick to a ‘theme.’

“Might as well just write ‘Coward’ in large letters on the back.” Mathew muttered, looking over his shoulder to see if it had done just that. Thankfully, it was blank.

At least the suit was comfortable and high quality, made of wool instead of cheap polyester.

His shoes make a satisfying click-clack sound on the stone floor as he crossed the room and opened the wooden door. Leading to a long hallway, Mathew looked in both directions for an exit when he felt something to his left. It felt like a pulsating heat, drawing in and exhaling like breath.

The feeling reminded him of Mana, how it circulated through his body from his chest to his limbs and back again. Curious, he followed the feeling. He instinctually knew that it meant him no harm.

Coming to another door, he heard murmured voices behind it, rising and falling in rhythm with each other. Gripping the handle, he threw the door open and was greeted by a large interior of a Temple.

The long hall was filled with people, and their heads were bowed in prayer as a group of purple-robed priests led them in a chant. Their hands were clasped together, and they all faced toward the front of the Temple where Mathew had just entered.

Above them hung another symbol of the gods. This one was of a bundle of golden grain, tied together with purple string. He assumed that it represented the gods of Harvest Demesne since they seemed to administer this floor if the summary was correct.

At his entrance, the crowd looked up, and the priests stopped their chanting. Feeling awkward that he had interrupted their sermon, he was about to speak when they started to cheer.

“A Champion! Our prayers have been answered!” The lead priest yelled, throwing up his hands in gratitude as the crowd took to their feet.

Now that he had a better view of them, he could see that they were dressed like medieval peasants. Plain cloth, with old fashioned dresses and men wearing tunics. Mathew, in his suit, stood out like a sore thumb.

“Hello, I’ve been summoned to assist the Mayor. Could someone lead me to them?” Mathew replied, giving them a smile that he hoped was friendly while nervously eyeing the jubilant crowd who seemed about to charge toward him.

“Of course, Champion! Of course! Please follow me. The priest who was leading the sermon stepped forward. Wearing purple robes, he also had a large, conical hat with a grain symbol on the front. Coming in front of Mathew, he shook his hand before gesturing him forward.

Tentatively, observing the priest out of the corner of his eye, Mathew stepped into the crowd, who began to part for him along the center row.

A long, purple rug ran the length of the hall and as Mathew walked down, the crowd would touch his arms or shoulder and tell him how happy they were that a Champion had answered their call.

“This is entirely different than the last floor. There must be some kind of trick. Are they all secretly evil or something?” Mathew wondered to himself as he passed the crowd and left the Temple through the large, arching doors that remained open.

There was no way this would be simple, not after what a nightmare the last floor was.

Mathew came out under a bright yellow sun, the blue sky was free of clouds, and he could hear birds in the distance. The air smelled clean, lacking any of the woodsmoke he had come to expect from the last floor.

“Welcome, Champion of the gods, to Bellmare.” The Priest greeted him, making a sweeping gesture with his arm to showcase the city before them.

The Temple was on a hill and overlooked a city far more extensive than August City. A large wall surrounded it, with thousands of stone houses and buildings inside. In the distance, Mathew could see a large body of water, either a lake or an ocean.

Outside the wall, golden fields stretched as far as the eye could see. White sailed boats were tied up on the docks, and several more were visible on the water beyond.

Bellmare looked clean, prosperous and, most importantly, safe. It was apparent to Mathew that he was walking into a trap.