Strength Build: A LitRPG Saga (The Complete Strength Build Cycle)

by Steven J Shelley

  Nick couldn’t hit her. IceBringer was simply too slow. The wind up, the swing, everything gave her time to roll away and loose more arrows. Most of her shots were deflected by his armor, but two more critical hits and he was toast. Worse still, he noticed his timer read less than five minutes. How the fuck did that happen? Had they been penalized for entering the second area without completing The Fields of Durandor.

  “Just let me kill you so I can move to the next round,” the Ranger snarled.

  Nick knew it was only trash talk, but anger threatened to overwhelm him. Why did he decide to follow this runner? He’d worked so hard to infiltrate Durandor Castle and finish the quest. Now he’d be lucky to survive at all.

  But anger would lead to death quicker than any other emotion. Nick forced himself to concentrate on RogueFox00’s movement. There was certainly a pattern to her rolling, as if she was managing her stamina. She usually pulled up after her third roll and took a step to the side, neatly avoiding Nick’s great sword.

  Not this time.

  Nick made his attack look like it would follow the same pattern, but tumbled a split second before the Ranger dived into her own roll. As soon as he was standing he swung his blade at the empty space he expected RogueFox00 to be.

  Gamers always underestimated a strength build’s sense of timing, thinking tanks just blundered around swinging heavy weapons. But Nick’s move was so well-timed his sword found the sweet, soft flesh of his opponent’s neck. He laughed out loud as her HP was drained by 75%.

  As he pulled away she loosed an arrow in desperation. He frowned when he saw a blue halo around the tip …

  The arrow thudded into his armor harmlessly but sent him sprawling across the mosaic. Knockdown arrow. The beautiful artwork, which seemed to be fashioned from tiny blocks of porcelain, cracked along its length. Nick looked uncertainly at RogueFox00 while she readied another arrow.

  All he could do was try and close the distance before she loosed. He clambered across the mosaic, his greaves stomping heavily on the porcelain. There was an almighty crack and the entire mosaic shattered.

  For three terrifying seconds Nick was in free fall. Amid a shower of porcelain blocks he clattered to a stone floor. He got up slowly, stunned but thankful to be alive. His HP was painfully low, just a sliver of red.

  RogueFox00 was also on her feet, her higher agility score serving her well. Her HP was also just a tiny wedge of red. Her gaze was glued to something behind Nick. He turned toward a huge archway, the only entrance into the tower. An enormous, warty creature sat with its back turned, presumably guarding the tower. It was swarthy and thick-limbed, with a broad, horned head.

  Nick shared a confused look with the Ranger. How the fuck had that thing not heard them? It didn’t matter now.

  “We can’t risk attacking each other,” RogueFox00 pointed out.

  Nick nodded - it was the same situation as before.

  “Wanna share some XP?” he asked.

  Incredibly, she smiled. A beguiling sight.

  “Let’s do it,” she said, already drawing back her longbow.

  Nick was surprised to see a flame arrow thud into the back of the beast’s head. Why hadn’t she used those on him? Feeling slightly offended, he switched to his steel buckler and longsword. With his health so low, this game was all about survival. He advanced slowly, hoping the Ranger stuck to her word and resisted sinking an arrow in his back.

  The beast turned to face them, his health bar appearing in the bottom of his view. It was called a Gonorsk. Nick advanced carefully, looking to draw an attack but not seriously engage. RogueFox00 was free to loose flame arrow after flame arrow into its head, which steadily whittled its HP away.

  The Gonorsk rushed Nick and he was forced to roll right, a frighteningly slow experience with medium to heavy armor. His timing was good, however, and he emerged clean.

  He worked the floor whilst RogueFox00 skilfully hugged the wall. He wasn’t used to working so well with a Ranger. A dirty dexterity build. And yet here he was, dispatching a fearsome beast with another pixel runner on a worldwide cast. Every one of her arrows hit the mark, sending the Gonorsk into a rage.

  Nick scuttled back and forth, avoiding the heavy blows with intense concentration. He couldn’t risk switching to IceBringer if it meant losing his shield. He tried to regulate his movement, forming a pattern of evasion that seemed to work. He hated the very idea of evasion - it went against everything he believed in. But at the start of every game there were certain indignities to be endured.

  “Booyah!” RogueFox00 howled as she lowered the Gonorsk to less than 10% HP with her glorious flame arrows. Nick backed against the wall and looked across at his unlikely companion. So lightly armored … so low in health …

  Nick wasn’t sure what made him move. Maybe it was the thought of paying next week’s rent. The thought of his father’s terminal illness. The realization that Helena didn’t love him and would never love him. Perhaps it was the conclusion that his life was a complete and utter cluster fuck.

  He raised his sword and executed a standard attack. That was all he needed. RogueFox00 fell, as dead as she would ever be. As cold and still as her pixel running career. Nick was vaguely aware of a tinkling sound as he stood over her pathetic corpse.

  The Gonorsk was as good as done. He tumbled forward and struck with all his remaining stamina. The blow filled the chamber with white light that faded slowly. When it cleared, the Gonorsk was lying still.

  Nick was about to loot RogueFox00, relishing the prospect of claiming a trophy from the slain Gonorsk, when his timer counted down to zero. His world went black and all he could hear was his own voice.

  “Fuck … fuck …”

  As he gradually became aware of the cool gel of the Immersion tank, he realized what that tinkling sound had been.

  An avalanche of Hate points.

  Nick was hauled from the Immersion tank by a pair of techies. He paused on the ladder, surprised at how exhausted he was. Silence greeted him as he set foot on firm ground. Ern was talking to a gaggle of suited, executive-looking types.

  A technie tossed his clothes to him. “Way to go, jerk-off,” he sneered.

  Nick dressed hurriedly, conscious of all the women in the room. There were no smiles - only anxious, embarrassed looks.

  At last Ern broke free from his animated conversation and walked over.

  “Alright, then,” he said, transferring a data screen to Nick’s wrist pad. It was a leaderboard for the Oakshield Junction session. Nick was in 8th place, just above a red line.

  “Does this mean …” he said, not daring to finish the sentence.

  “See you tomorrow,” Ern said, walking away with a shake of his head. “Come on people, clear the room! Tank 16 is live in five minutes!”

  Nick was left on his own, Immersion gel clinging to his back, arms, face.

  “Oh, and kid?” Ern said, peering around the door frame. “It’s fine being the villain, but be ready for the consequences.”

  Nick nodded, though he wasn’t completely sure what that meant. He shuffled from the room, heading past an empty reception area. He called a flyer and waited behind the studio’s atmos-shell.

  On the way home he studied the game results intently. He was annoyed to see that KainDestroyer18 had come first, the only runner to complete the quest. He had achieved level 7. Apart from being a complete dick, he also appeared to be very good.

  Eleven runners had been killed outright by other runners, including the three Nick had killed. And yet he’d finished 8th, which meant that he was the worst-performed of the survivors. The only thing that had earned him enough points to make the cut was the Hate he’d earned from killing RogueFox00. The message was simple - if you couldn’t advance the quest, be a complete asshole. Whilst that was useful to know, he didn’t want to depend on it.

  As for slaying the Gonorsk, those points were invalid due to being outside Durandor. He checked the Neutron Syndicate schedule for the following day - as
expected, the second episode was Duskstar Forest. He received a message from Ern with his starting time. It felt so good to have somewhere to go. So good that Nick could hardly breathe.

  “You alright?” yelled the pilot above the thud of dust against the cockpit.

  “Yeah,” Nick said. “Couldn’t be better, actually.”

  Delivered safely to Sea Eagle, he took the internal stairs two at a time. He opened the door quickly and was greeted with an unusual sound from the bedroom. He padded down the hallway and peered around the door frame. Helena was straddling a guy he didn’t recognize. She was topless and his hands were massaging her breasts.

  Nick resisted the impulse to barge in on them, realizing he didn’t have the energy for a confrontation. He knew what he had to do, but it could wait until tomorrow. Instead he climbed the stairs back to the ceiling and called another flyer. The same pilot returned, looking at him quizzically.

  “Angel Hospital,” Nick said in a flat voice. “Don’t worry, I can pay.”

  As the flyer rose into the gloom, Nick checked his bank balance. He gave a low whistle, thinking the entire day must have been a dream. There were over 2000 credits in there. All due to his nefarious villainy in a video game.

  He covered his mouth, unable to comprehend so much money. His money. What would he do with it? Of course, the first issue was rent, would could now be taken care of. There was another pressing issue, something far closer to his heart. Which was why he was heading to the hospital.

  The flyer let him off at the busy central terminal. He knew his way through the labyrinthine corridors through years of habit. No more getting lost on the way to the room that contained his dying father.

  Terence Stanners lay in crisply pressed bedsheets up to his neck. His grey, parched skin made for a horrifying contrast against the pristine linen. His breath was loud and raspy, sounding like it could cease at any moment. Nick dimmed the lights a little and sat in his usual chair by his father’s head.

  “I’m here, Dad,” he said quietly. “I had something to tell you, but it can wait.”

  A nurse on her rounds passed by. She frowned at Nick.

  “He’s been out for hours,” she said. “Those sleeps are getting longer and longer.”

  “I know that,” Nick said defensively. The hospital staff had been tacitly urging him to pull the pin on his father for some months now. The only thing keeping him alive was his insurance cover. And now, hopefully, something else.

  “I want you to run another round of treatment,” Nick said. “I can pay for it.”

  There was that infuriating frown again. “I’ll need to talk to the doctors, I’m not sure if I can -”

  “Transferring the funds now,” Nick said dismissively, fingers dancing over his wrist pad. “And now we’d like to be left alone.”

  The nurse moved on, muttering to herself.

  “It was the strangest day, Dad,” Nick said, taking his father’s leathery hand. “You would’ve loved it.”

  His wrist pad bleeped - a personal message. It wasn’t from Helena. A private number.

  I’M GOING TO KILL YOU SLOWLY. LIMB BY LIMB. YOU DON’T BELONG IN OAKSHIELD. I WILL PROVE THAT BY RUINING YOUR FUCKING LIFE. INSIDE … AND OUTSIDE.

  Nick deactivated his wrist pad, squeezing his father’s hand instead. He knew it was Kain, who he hadn’t even met yet. What that jackass didn’t know was that Nick was invincible. He’d survived. Nobody could take that away from him.

  “Like I was saying, Dad, you would’ve loved it …”

  +2

  Nick spent the night at the hospital, sleeping in the chair at his father’s bedside. The old man seemed to be fading fast. His cancer had already eaten away over 95% of his lungs. Though Nick refused to dwell on it, he knew there wasn’t much time left.

  Sore from his uncomfortable sleep, he fetched a bad coffee from a vending machine in the corridor. For a moment he just stood there, listening to the soft coughs and whimpers drifting from all those rooms of slow death.

  A nurse emerged from her dimly lit night station and smiled bashfully. She was young and pretty in a girl-next-door way. Nick immediately knew she’d never picked up a game in her life. He could just tell. She didn’t make it hard to return the smile, though he couldn’t muster much joviality.

  “Still asleep?” she asked.

  “I haven’t had a chance to speak with him yet,” he said with more emotion than he’d intended.

  She nodded with what seemed like genuine sympathy.

  “I’ve been watching him,” she said. “He slept all night after getting excited about some nex cast.”

  Nick’s heart lurched. “Can you remember what it was?”

  Her frown created dimples on her right cheek. “Something Junction, I think.”

  Nick was filled with gratitude toward the unassuming nurse. He’d gotten icy resentment from most staff here at Angel Hospital - the idea of this girl looking over his father, with real care, meant the world to him.

  But how to express that without sounding weird? After all, it was her job.

  “Can I get you a coffee?” he ended up asking, before adding: “I promise it’ll be as bad, if not worse, than the one I’m currently holding.”

  Her laugh was musical, beguiling. He was utterly powerless before it.

  “I’d better get back,” she said, dragging herself away. “My name’s Emily. By the way. Just in case …”

  “Nick,” he said quickly. “Nick Stanners.”

  “See you round, Nick Stanners. I won’t be going anywhere.”

  Feeling a curious excitement in his chest, Nick headed back to his father, who was stirring.

  “Mornin’, Dad,” Nick said, helping the old man raise himself into a sitting position. The slightest movement appeared to be laden with pain.

  “I’ll get the nurse,” Nick said.

  But Terence waved a thin, leathery hand, motioning for his son to sit. Nick did as he was told.

  “You … made it,” Terence rasped, struggling to get the words out.

  Nick smiled, flushed with a son’s pride.

  “I’m going back today,” he said, clutching his father’s hand. “Duskstar Forest.”

  “I wouldn’t … miss it,” came the halting reply.

  But there was something wrong. Nick knew his father better than anyone.

  “Don’t hold out on me, Dad,” he said. “What’s on your mind?”

  Terence paused, perhaps wrestling with the right words. Typical of the man - always thinking about other people, about protecting their feelings. Especially his son’s.

  “It doesn’t matter what you … say in there, Nick,” he began. “I know it’s all entertainment. You make an … old man … laugh harder than he should.”

  It took Nick a few moments to realize that “in there” meant Immersion.

  “Your actions are … different,” his father went on. “They’re an … extension of you. I know you. I … know that if my son … drives his actions … he can’t lose.”

  Nick nodded slowly and squeezed his father’s hand. The old man seemed on the verge of passing out again, so he refrained from responding. He kinda knew what Terence was hinting at, but wasn’t sure he agreed. How could his father know what Immersion was like? The immense, crushing pressure he felt in that world?

  The conversation was over in any case - Terrance Stanners had gone under again.

  Troubled by the exchange, Nick decided to leave. Up at the terminal a weak sun was barely visible through the brown Pacific haze. He didn’t feel like going home immediately, so he took a transit tube to Sunset Pier.

  His destination wasn’t nearly as idyllic as it sounded. Over the years the actual pier had been steadily disintegrated by corrosive salt spray, and now existed in name only. The trading hub just happened to serve the best breakfast burritos on the coast. Nick sat at a table that overlooked the squalid, rubbish-filled ocean. He savored every bite, washing his meal down with real coffee.

  He sighed an
d checked the time. He felt like death - hardly an ideal preparation for the second episode of Oakshield Junction. He was expected at the studio in just a few hours. A familiar anxiety began rising in his guts like a roiling tide.

  Before he confronted all that, though, there was a nasty problem on the home front. Helena. What mood would he get? Contrite? Angry? Smug? It didn’t really matter - it was over. He had to be strong and just cut her off. Who knew how long she’d been taking him for a ride?

  He couldn’t even remember why he was with her in the first place. Sex? Companionship? Both were likely. The Sea Eagle hab block could be a lonely place for those out of work.

  Tense, he rode a flyer home. It felt weird to call flyers and not worry where the charge was coming from. For the moment he had a little money, and he was determined it would stay that way. He would pay his rent and make sure his father got the best treatment possible. Anything beyond that would be a foolish extravagance.

  Unfortunately, Helena was still in his apartment. The place looked spotless for the first time in months. He was gonna get the contrite Helena, which would made it harder to end the relationship.

  “Where were you, baby?” she asked, laying an arm around his shoulders and sitting him down on the sofa. “I was about to call the police. Not that they’d do anything, but you know what I mean.”

  “I was with Dad,” Nick said tiredly, trying not to look at Helena’s revealing top. Instead, he focused on her brown eyes. “I did come home last night,” he said. “But you had company.”

  Helena looked away, her “loving” concern morphing into white anger.

  “Maybe I was tired of going to bed alone every night while you play fucking video games,” she spat. “Your head’s in other worlds, Nick. I can’t do it anymore.”

  “Then get the fuck out,” Nick said, letting months of frustration spill over. “Maybe I’m tired of cleaning smack off my kitchen bench. Maybe I’m tired of handing over money to a stay-at-home junkie with more credits than me. How the fuck that does that work?”