Road to Mastery: A LitRPG Apocalypse

More dragons emerged from the clouds—the tribulation was still increasing the pace. They swarmed Jack, who dove into the fray with only his body and Fist to support him. There was nothing else he could do.

He became a devil, a killer, a perfect warrior. He danced between the B-Grade dragons and delivered swift death. They fell by the dozens. If they were real creatures, he might have received enough levels to survive, but they weren’t, so they gave him nothing.

From afar, Jack looked more heroic than ever. He faced a flood of enemies on his own—he danced between their strikes like he’d predicted everything, using minimal movements to avoid and strike back. He was strong and efficient. Some called him perfect.

He was facing way too many enemies. Strikes occasionally seeped through. A dragon bit him on the arm, another at the neck, a third dove into his chest. Even enhanced as he was, the lightning contained in each of them was beyond tremendous—every dragon could easily char an entire continent. With so many striking him at once, Jack was beginning to suffer. His muscles twitched. His flesh burned. His lungs contracted. His heart would have stopped if he wasn’t constantly using his Dao to keep it pumping.

Injuries accumulated on his body, but the dragons weren’t running out. No matter how many he killed, more appeared to take their place. The tribulation seemed inexhaustible—even with everything so far, he hadn’t even extinguished it halfway.

He had nothing more to give, either. With his Daos sealed, fighting like this was all he could do. The only skill he hadn’t used was Supernova, but it was just too powerful—it would achieve little besides spending his energy even faster. As for running away from the tribulation, that was even more impossible. It would just warp space to follow him.

Am I really going to die here? Jack thought.

Suddenly, a golden aura surrounded him. He felt invigorated, his energy returning, his injuries healing rapidly. He glanced to the side, where Brock was hovering right at the edge of the tribulation.

“You mess with my bro,” said the brorilla, his arms raised high, “you mess with me.”

The tribulation seemed to agree. More power streamed into the clouds from the surrounding universe, puffing them up. They expanded to cover the sky above Brock as well, then rained black lightning.

“No!” Jack roared. The lightning Brock was facing wasn’t much weaker than what he’d faced at the start. He also hadn’t witnessed Brock’s breakthrough—he had no idea how strong he was.

Crowds of golden brorillas appeared around Brock, wrestling the lightning into submission. The Goldenwood Staff jumped into his arms, cracking against the sky and shielding him. He could handle himself—but for how long?

The rules of a tribulation were clear. The offending cultivator had to face it alone. If anyone tried to help, more tribulation would appear, ensuring that every challenger faced the same level of difficulty.

Jack knew that. So did Brock. Yet, he had still charged forth, not hesitating for a moment to risk his life alongside his brother’s for a tiny chance at survival. Jack felt touched. In his entire life, having Brock as his brother was his single greatest fortune.

Suddenly, Jack laughed. So what if he died? Falling by the side of his brother, challenging the heavens themselves, wasn’t such a bad way to go!

“Face me!” he roared, attacking the dragons with more intensity. They enveloped him from all directions. Brock was still supplying him with power, but the tribulation had grown stronger to match it. No matter how fiercely Jack fought, no matter how many dragons he slew, there were always more. Over a thousand had appeared so far, with many more on the way. They were endless—and Jack, with his Daos unjustly sealed, could only fight head-on.

Or, rather, this wasn’t a fight, but a slow death in battle.

Jack laughed and roared at the same time. His punches caved dragon skulls and defied the heavens. His every moment of survival was a provocation, his every strike a challenge. Lightning flowed in his veins by now. The Thunder Body transformation had run out, and the four-armed battle form was barely hanging on. His skin was scorched and his organs melted. Only his regeneration kept him alive. Even his inner world, this unprecedented marvel which had just come into existence, was now a dry plane, an empty space almost devoid of energy. His mind was slow and his arms heavy, but he kept on fighting, still doing his best.

Jack wasn’t a quitter. He would fight as well as he could, always looking for a chance to survive. However, the calculating part of his mind had already realized there was no way out. This tribulation was something he never had any hope against. Let alone him, even a middle A-Grade might have perished.

There was nothing he could do, and nothing he could have done. His path so far had been perfect, every step immaculate. This was just his predetermined end.

Can no one defy the universe?

Perhaps he should have stayed at the 9999-mile mark. The universe wouldn’t have been as enraged with him then… But, that would have been a different kind of death. Remaining at 9999 would mean conforming. He would only keep his life because he bowed to the heavens, obeyed their rules. That would mean betraying his path—the Fist, Freedom, and everything else he stood for.

Jack didn’t fear death, he only feared losing himself. Even if he could go back in time, he would still do everything the same. It was all worth it.

Even if my path leads to death, I will walk it! I would rather die standing than live on my knees!

The tribulation was so full of energy it was terrifying. The surrounding space felt thin and empty. In fact, the entire star area around them had been sucked dry of energy to support such an assault. The spectators had retreated thrice, opening more distance to ensure they weren’t affected.

Heavenstar was clenching his fists, looking at the falling tribulation with regret. “This is unbelievable,” he said. “Two unprecedented talents are going to die here? To a tribulation? I thought the heavens were finally smiling at us, but it was just a cruel joke!”

“Jack never stood a chance,” Boatman replied calmly. “The tribulation was too powerful to begin with. It appears he truly did enrage the heavens this time. There is not a single path of survival left for him. All he can do is perish.”

“How can you be so calm, Boatman!?” Heavenstar shouted. “Those are your two disciples over there, the brightest talents we’ve ever seen!”

“I am calm precisely because they are my disciples,” Boatman replied. A faint grin was visible through his hood. “A master should not interfere in the affairs of disciples. However, when a disciple is bullied by a higher power, is it not the job of his master to save him?”

Heavenstar’s eyes widened. “You can’t be serious. This is a tribulation! You know the rules better than anyone!”

Boatman laughed. It was a hoarse sound, yet containing deep valor. “Protect the crowd.” He disappeared before Heavenstar could reply, breaking through the repelling force of the tribulation to stand directly below it, shielding Jack and Brock. A curtain of darkness spread from his body. Every dragon, every lightning bolt, every hint of electricity died immediately. The world turned black and white.

Astral winds blew, pushing back Boatman’s hood and cloak to reveal a pale, thin body. He reached for his back and removed his scythe.

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“Hear me, heavens,” he spoke, not shouting, but his voice echoed everywhere like the degree of God. “I am Elder Boatman of the Black Hole Church! If my disciples were unworthy, I would sit to the side and watch them die. However, this is unfair. It is an assassination I will not permit. If the heavens want to bully, then I will bully them back. If you raise a hand against my disciples, then I will cut it off.”

The entire world went still, then began to rumble. Space itself shook with fury. The surrounding star area for millions of miles was completely sucked dry of energy, all funneling towards these clouds. If the heavens were angry before, they were now utterly and irrevocably enraged. Since when could they be challenged like this? Since when could cultivators challenge the authority of the Heavenly Dao?

Boatman ignored the furious rumbling of the world. He stuck out his scythe, gathering a veritable ocean of black power. Jack and Brock, who were recovering below, were shaken. This was far beyond their level—far above anything they’d ever witnessed. This was a powerful late A-Grade going to war.

“If the heavens will not accept my disciples,” Boatman shouted, his eyes going dark, his scythe cutting out, “then I shall kill the heavens!”

A dark curtain appeared, cutting through everything. It fell into the tribulation. The entire sea of clouds was sliced in half, thousands of black dragons dying in the cradle. Clouds disintegrated, lightning fizzled out. The fabric of reality itself shook and moaned in fury. This was blatant challenge! This was hubris!

More energy roared in from afar. More clouds appeared, an endless number of them, but Boatman hovered alone in the sky, commanding his Dao, commanding the world. The tribulation could nullify Jack’s Dao of Death, but not Boatman’s—his understanding already approached the level of the Heavenly Dao. Endless specters slipped into reality. They dove into the clouds, slaying anything they found. Shrill screams filled the void.

This battle had spiraled way out of proportion. The crowd was retreating at full speed, shouting and screaming.

The tribulation fought back against Boatman. It had already magnified to several times its previous size, and the lightning it shot down was no longer black but golden. Every Dao in existence seemed to be contained within. Boatman slashed his scythe, every slice tearing apart the world, spreading death as he shielded his disciples.

Jack and Brock stood together, slowly recovering. Their gazes were glued upward. All they could see was Boatman’s back, risking his life to defend them against injustice. Jack smiled. “You know,” he said, “maybe it’s not that bad having a teacher.”

“He is good bro,” Brock replied, banging a fist against his chest. “Respect.”

“Wanna help him?”

“Let’s go.”

They shot upward. Just the shockwaves of Boatman’s battle would be enough to capsize them, but they didn’t need to join directly, only shoot out their power from afar to assist. Purple and gold rained upward. Darkness embraced them, feeding on them to grow stronger, then devouring the tribulation. Reality was a mixture of black and gold—cultivator and divine.

The current battle was far superior in level to the previous one. Heavenstar was using his powers to shield the spectators from three hundred thousand miles away, yet his shield still shook, and he was finding it hard to endure. “Retreat farther,” he commanded. “Go!”

Everyone rushed, and he followed, keeping up his shields. In his heart, he shouted, Go, Boatman!

Golden lightning rained down in waves, already past the level of thunderbolts. Auroras filled the skies. The energy of Life clashed against Boatman’s Death, sparking up the lightning to increase its power. Death and tribulation clashed repeatedly, neither giving ground. Boatman was rocked by shockwaves. He wasn’t a Physical cultivator; his body shook, accumulating injuries. His organs were bruised. His robes were torn, revealing a thin body clad in darkness. Blood streamed from the corner of his mouth and eyes, while the hands which held his scythe shivered.

However, he wasn’t giving ground. As he was wounded, so was the tribulation. The clouds were torn apart faster than they could form. Golden dragons perished as they were born. The universe roared in fury, but it had no more power to give.

A tribulation’s difficulty shouldn’t change no matter how many people appeared to challenge it. Since it was impossible for Jack, it should be impossible for Brock and Boatman as well, regardless of whether they fought together or not. However, even a tribulation had its limits. Boatman was too strong, approaching the apex of power. Tremendous amounts of power were needed to defeat him.

Even though the Heavenly Dao controlled the entire universe, that didn’t mean it could collect all the power of the universe here. It had to draw from nearby areas, and after all the battles so far, the surrounding millions of miles had run completely dry. The density of Dao had reached an all-time low—drawing anymore was impossible.

Even a tribulation had its limits—and now, thanks to Jack, Brock, and Boatman giving it their all, it had approached them. Only a fragment of the previous clouds remained—but Boatman was equally exhausted. His powers of Death were running dry.

“Jack!” he suddenly shouted, his voice weak. “I have weakened the tribulation as much as I can, but it remains one summoned by you! Unless you destroy your share, it will not be resolved. It will keep returning until it kills us! I will draw away the part aimed at me, and Brock will also retreat. You must use this opportunity to disperse it before it gathers more power. My life depends on you—do not fail!”

No other Elder would think of leaving their life in the hands of an early B-Grade. However, Elder Boatman…was the man!

Jack’s gaze hardened. He summoned all the remaining power of his inner world. “I will succeed,” he vowed.

Boatman flew away. A large part of the tribulation followed him. Brock did as well, taking away a much smaller part. Jack was left hovering alone, once again facing the clouds by himself, but this time, they were fewer and weaker. They were no longer sealing his Daos—no longer unfair.

This wasn’t an easy battle, but it was one he could win—and if he could, he would.

Golden lightning blazed in the sky, crashing down as a column of pure power. Jack flew right at it. Spacetime curved around him—the column was split into many, passing around Jack like water around a stone. It missed him completely.

A golden dragon emerged from the clouds. It was vastly more powerful than the black ones he’d faced before—its strength easily reached the peak B-Grade.

Jack shot straight at it. One of his fists shone green, the other black—Life and Death. The dragon’s life force ballooned under Jack’s control, making it struggle to control its own body. Death came right afterward, a thin slice of darkness which cut right through that bloated power, slicing the dragon in two. Jack slipped between the two halves before the dragon even realized it was dead.

He had approached the clouds by now. It was just him and them. A mass of energy condensed right above him, all the remaining power of the clouds forced into a blast of raw energy. It descended. Where it passed, spacetime disintegrated, reality was torn apart. It was strongest and final attack it could muster.

Jack could have tried to dodge, but he didn’t. This tribulation had struck with overwhelming force to kill him, and all because he disobeyed the rules of cultivation. He didn’t want to avoid it—he wanted to break it head-on.

All the remaining energy he possessed was channeled into his body. Two new arms grew, enhancing him greatly. Purple electricity covered him, skyrocketing his power further. Though Jack was wounded and exhausted, he had momentarily reached an absolute peak.

He pulled his punch back. All the pain he’d experienced came to his mind—from despair, to fear, to body tempering, to loneliness, to Eric, to war. Everything he’d done had been of his own volition. All the pain he experienced was a result of his own actions. He alone controlled his fate, good or bad. Not the heavens. Not anyone.

The surrounding space was sucked into his punch. More and more energy flew in, all sorts of Daos, until Jack felt like he was holding a nuclear bomb. In truth, this was far more powerful. His next strike could easily disintegrate a planet.

The blast of energy came down to meet him.

“Fuck your fake righteousness,” Jack said, spreading his voice far and wide as his power built to a crescendo. “You call yourself heavenly, but you are just another tyrant that I refuse to obey. While I live, I will fight. I will abolish you and establish my own heavens. I am Jack Rust—I alone dictate my fate. No one else. I don’t care if you are the heavens, or the Dao, or the universe… ” He pushed his fist forward. “You do not control me!”

The condensed power in his fist imploded. It hesitated for just a moment, as if struggling to escape its own gravity, then erupted outward in a tremendous explosion that shook the world.

“SUPERNOVA!”

The blast of energy shattered. The sky was thrown backward. Jack’s fist carried on, containing all his resolve for freedom, and smashed into the dark clouds, tearing them wide open. A new sky was revealed behind them—and the clouds broke into strips of moisture which melted against the universe. The tribulation disappeared without a sign. Even the clouds above Brock and Boatman disintegrated, as the tribulation had been defeated by the one who summoned it.

The crowd was shocked speechless. The Death Boat sank in silence—then cheers erupted to the high heavens, washing away the darkness, bringing new light.

A legend had been born—Jack Rust, the paragon of cultivation, a pioneer of new heights. He was unprecedented. Nobody knew how high he could reach, but they all wanted to find out.

“JACK RUST! JACK RUST! JACK RUST!”

This was the start of a new era. And Jack, having stepped into the B-Grade, was ready to spearhead it. He threw his head back and laughed. “Let’s fucking go!”

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