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

by Steven J Shelley

  The second mage had sent a fireball Nick’s way. He ducked behind the fig tree and it zoomed past, scorching the foliage behind him. The mage was conjuring another before Nick could get an arrow off. These mages were fast. He tried circling round left side of the tree, but it didn’t suit his right-handed bow action.

  Besides, the mage had him covered, sending fireball after fireball thudding into the trunk. The flames spread across the dry bark, catching Nick off guard. Cursing from the pain, he stepped back and considered his options. Only one thing for it. He sprinted straight toward the remaining mage.

  His adversary released a fireball - to where Nick might have been if he hadn’t timed his diagonal roll perfectly. He finished in a kneeling position and loosed an arrow. The shaft skewered the mage, drawing a grunt of pain. Nick quick-equipped his plunge dagger and followed up with a ruthless chest-stab. His opponent fell, gasping his last. Satisfied the area was clear, Nick looted the corpses. Two ember robes with high fire resistance. A pair of base Fireball scrolls. Two plain iron daggers.

  “So you’re the Order of Ember,” Nick muttered.

  Hell, they were probably Picello’s Frost Magi only a few months ago. He really needed to find out what was going on.

  The temple grounds lay just ahead, through the trees. Nick advanced warily, mindful not only of the oppressive silence but also of other runners who might be converging on the area. He passed into the shade cast by the foremost tower, transfixed by the elvish designs. There was a strange energy to this place, a friction beyond Nick’s understanding. It was a sensation he’d never felt in a game before.

  More towers rose to either side. Many of the windows and doors were overgrown with thorny creepers. Whatever happened here, nature had been quick to reclaim its dominion. An obsidian tower rose above all the others at the center of the temple grounds. The Old Tower. It was marked by a huge flame symbol, but the artwork seemed like an afterthought, almost like graffiti. It certainly wasn’t the work of the Frost Magi.

  Before long, Nick’s way was blocked by an overgrown thicket. A strength build might’ve been able to hack through, particularly with a machete, but Nick didn’t think that was the most efficient way through the Temple. He looked up at the high bridges that connected the mage towers - that was where he needed to be.

  The first few doors he tried were jammed shut, but he managed to find one that buckled under his weight. The interior of this tower was dark and musty, the air stale and cloying. The chamber was once a prayer or meditation room. Broken candelabras were heaped against the walls and frayed reed mats were stacked in the corner. A faint echo of sandalwood rode the dying air. Nick took to a staircase that hugged the wall, hoping it didn’t crumble beneath him.

  He passed several abandoned floors, many of them containing spartan bedrooms. One floor housed a huge bell inscribed with vivid swirls that glowed faintly. This was more like it - a genuine relic from a bygone era. An artifact crafted by the first Frost Magi. Nick wondered what would happen if he rang that bell. The gamer in him begged to do it, but the survivor in him rightly pointed out that the sound would give away his position.

  On the other hand, it was possible that this ancient artifact still carried power. Plus, he was already in danger, so ringing the thing was unlikely to make matters worse. Overcome with curiosity, Nick grabbed a rusted brass spindle sitting in the corner and gave the bell an almighty whack. The sound made his ear drums shudder with pain. For a moment he thought he was deaf, but the pain faded.

  The bell settled into a deep, resonant rhythm that somehow filled him with confidence. What’s more, an answering bell rose in the distance, although that might have been an echo. Buoyed by his discovery, Nick continued climbing. The tower seemed to carry on forever, but he was finally confronted with a ceiling hatch. He smashed the padlock with the butt of his dagger and pushed through.

  A gentle mid-afternoon breeze ruffled his hair as he stepped out onto a platform encircling the tower’s spire. A long bridge spanned the distance to the next tower. As Nick was preparing to sprint across, a pair of Ember mages emerged from a hatch at the far end.

  He dropped to one knee immediately, sending an arrow humming across the bridge. It struck the foremost mage in the chest, knocking him back. The other mage didn’t conjure a fireball as expected - instead he “dropped” a tongue of flame into the stone bridge and watched it zoom toward Nick.

  The anchored flame was much quicker than the fireballs, and Nick had no room for a lateral roll. All he could do was brace himself for impact. He shuddered at the fierce heat of the attack, vaguely aware of his plummeting HP. The first mage had sent a fireball, which Nick rolled under without difficulty. He loosed an arrow without sighting his target, grunting in satisfaction as it swept the first mage off his feet, killing him.

  The second enemy flung a fireball, but by now Nick had perfected the timing of his tumble roll. The sphere singed his hair as it crackled past, but the Ember mage was wide open. Nick loosed an arrow from ten yards and sprinted after it, dagger at the ready. At close quarters the mage didn’t have a chance. Nick cut his throat with a brutal strike and knelt to loot the corpses.

  He only had time to loot a Ground Fire scroll before he was struck in the back by a fire arrow. His already-meager HP took a hit and suffered residual fire damage. He staggered to his feet, seeing Ember archers on distant towers to his left and right. The fuckers were elite with those bows. He tried to edge his way around the tower but his residual fire damage sank his HP to zero. Swearing like a trooper, he collapsed to the stone and died very ungraciously.

  The respawn point was on one of the overgrown paths he’d encountered at the southern end of the Temple grounds. With a sigh he realized he would need to climb the first tower again. As with all RPG gamers who died in frustration, he was filled with an obsessive desire to retrace his steps and make things right. He’d never meet a gamer who didn’t suffer from this affliction. No matter how inconvenient it was, gamers always went back.

  Today was no different. Nick was going to cross those high bridges and work out a way of defeating the Ember archers. As he climbed the tower stairs, he tried to memorize his killers. They’d been dressed in the same ash-grey robes as their fire-conjuring brothers, but were clearly DEX-based. He hoped the mages he’d killed were gone, otherwise he would have the same problem all over again.

  He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the bridge was clear. Even so, he had to find a way across three bridge spans, running the gauntlet against lethal archers perched on the towers to either side. He sprinted across the bridge, wishing he had a little more stamina to extend his run. Sure enough, a dreaded fire arrow crashed into his side, knocking him sideways. He barely had time to recover before a second arrow finished him off completely.

  Back at the respawn point, Nick suffered the humiliation of a 50% HP bar. He didn’t even bother using his last healing herb, knowing there was a fair chance he’d die again. He was right. This time he saved his stamina until he got to the end of the span, only to be buffeted by arrows regardless.

  Nick was killed three more times, completely confounded by the Ember archers. All the while his timer sank below one hour - it looked like Oakshield Junction had finally got him. Worst of all, his Love points had stopped trickling in. What happened to his undying support? Viewers were a fickle bunch.

  Chastened and deeply embarrassed, Nick fronted up to the bridge again. He stepped forward and tried loosing an arrow at the distant ember archer to his right, but it fell well short. His DEX score wasn’t the problem - it was his weapon. A base longbow simply wasn’t powerful enough for this situation. His mind raced back to the dormant Sentinels. Wasn’t one of them holding a bow?

  Even if he could attack it, there wasn’t enough time to go back. All he could do was cross the bridge, knowing he was walking to his death. This never ending torture needed to stop. He paused on the middle of the span, watching the incoming fire arrow closely. He side-stepped it at the last momen
t, then spun to face the arrow he knew was coming the other way. He evaded this one too.

  Nick now had around four seconds to assess his surroundings. The towers sported small platforms at irregular intervals. He couldn’t imagine what they were for - possibly defensive archer positions against aerial attacks. An incoming fire arrow broke his train of thought, sending him tumbling off the bridge to die. As he respawned, the seed of a plan emerged in his mind. He couldn’t go across that first tower bridge, but perhaps he could leap down?

  It was good to have a plan, no matter how foolish it seemed. Nick bounded up the steps, glad to have something to test. He side-stepped the first two arrows as before, then he ran to the end of the bridge. Sure enough, there was a platform twenty yards down and to his right. Without hesitation he threw himself off the bridge, feeling the heat of a flame arrow as it passed where his head had been.

  He landed awkwardly on the platform and lost half his HP. He doubted he would’ve made it at all without his AGL stat. There was no room to side-step arrows and the door behind him had been boarded up, so Nick was forced to drop to the next platform. This one was only fifteen yards down and he only lost a little HP.

  Daring to believe that he might actually make it down, Nick consumed his last healing herb and made the drop to the next platform - a whopping thirty yards. The fall almost killed him, but he struggled to his feet as a flame arrow struck the tower wall above him. He tumbled off the final platform before an arrow could skewer him, landing on a stone floor.

  Nick doubted he’d made a less graceful escape in his gaming life, but he was alive and that’s all that mattered. The smell of burning pitch filled his nostrils as he peered into the gloom. Surely he wasn’t about to be attacked again?

  The muted glow of a distant brazier drew Nick through the darkness. He was moving north through a wide tunnel under the Temple grounds. Through an archway beyond the brazier he could see a workshop of sorts. A tall, statuesque woman was dipping arrow shafts into a barrel of pitch. She raised an eyebrow at him and wiped her hands on a rag. He couldn’t help but notice that she was startlingly attractive.

  “The folks that wash up on my shore,” she cooed, looking Nick up and down. “You must be light on your feet to make it down here.”

  “Are you with the Order of Embers?” Nick asked, hoping to establish her allegiance from the outset.

  She snorted. “They leave me alone, I leave them alone,” she drawled. “We both like it that way.”

  Nick found himself drawn to the woman’s charisma. He noticed various bows and arbalests on the walls. She was a fletcher. Hoping to conceal his delight, he stepped forward and thrust out his hand.

  “Nick Stanners.”

  “Feyla Inde,” she murmured, crushing him with her grip. “I sense a little business coming on.”

  Nick swallowed, overcome with a fierce desire to take this sultry woman in his arms. From the look of her, such a move would be his last. Instead, he drew his longbow.

  “I’m not getting anywhere with this,” he said.

  “Of course not,” she replied, running her hands along the coarse workmanship with obvious disdain. “Those archers up there will laugh at you.”

  “Then help me,” Nick said, betraying his frustration. “I need to reach the Tower of Old.”

  “I can’t help everyone,” she said uncertainly. “Several of your kind have passed through today. None had the requisite skills to use my weapons.”

  “You’ll find I’m different,” Nick said.

  Feyla circled him, pacing provocatively.

  “Mmm,” she mused. “You could be right. Tell me - why are the bells ringing? Has Picello risen from his bonds?”

  “I can’t answer that,” Nick said. “I rang the first bell and a second responded. What have they got to do with Picello?”

  Feyla pursed her lips. “There are three bell towers. The biggest is the Tower of Old itself. Legend has it that the ringing of all three infuses Picello with great power.”

  “What’s your connection to this place?”

  “I used to work for the Frost Magi. At least until Vanen attacked. The dragon entombed the Great Mage in a cinder ball. Afraid, many of his followers pledged allegiance to Vanen and founded the Order of Embers. Borscha Lang has assumed control here. You can find him in the Tower of Old, where Picello is held.”

  “You have my gratitude,” Nick said appreciatively. “Shall we trade?”

  Feyla laid her hands on her hips and smiled like a devil.

  “By all means, traveler, by all means.”

  Nick entered the merchant screen and eagerly perused Feyla’s stock. His eye was immediately drawn to the most expensive bow - the Bow of the Damned. It was carved from bone and etched with ancient runes. It promised to hit three times as hard and as fast as his base longbow, which bonus unholy damage. It also had double the range.

  The only problem was the price - 2000 crowns. Thankfully Nick was able to trade in his current longbow, a Sentinel armor set, a Medium Heal promise, a Sentinel great hammer, Ember robes x2, Fireball scrolls x2, an Anchor Flame scroll and iron daggers x2, which totaled 1270 crowns. To complete the required payment he was forced to trade in the Woodland Cowl, which was worth 800 crowns. He was sorry to see it go, but figured he no longer needed it.

  To balance the ledger, Nick stocked up on over two hundred wooden arrows - he’d need as many as he could get. The transaction complete, Nick equipped the Bow of the Damned and marveled at how light it felt in his hands. His could rapidly nock arrows, and sent a couple into the back wall for good measure.

  “Impressive,” Feyla purred. “I’m glad that bow found a worthy owner. I picked it up from a Death Lord many, many years ago.”

  Nick vaguely remembered Death Lords from the first few seasons of Oakshield Junction. For some reason they were no longer available to roll.

  “How do I get out of here?” Nick asked, mindful of his timer.

  “The way you all do,” Feyla said, her lips peeling back into a hideously bloodthirsty smile. “You die.”

  And with that, she calmly produced a wicked-looking bow and loosed an arrow straight into Nick’s abdomen. It had a shit load of residual poison damage, draining his HP in a matter of seconds.

  He almost smiled as he respawned in the usual place. It was time for sweet revenge. He loped up the bell tower with a manic grin - he had less than half an hour to complete his mission, but felt much better for meeting Feyla the fletcher under the temple grounds.

  Nick reached the first bridge and looked for his first victim. Lining up a distant Ember archer, he loosed an impeccably straight arrow. Not only was the bow fast and powerful, it had an excellent range. The mage staggered like he’d been hit by a high caliber bullet. Nick was about to loose a second shaft when he realized his target was already dead. The residual unholy damage was doing its work.

  Grinning from ear to ear, Nick sent an arrow soaring across the abyss to his left, striking that Ember Archer as well. This guy was knocked clean off his perch, falling a long way to the overgrown paths below. It felt joyous to finally make some progress. He fired more arrows from the cover of the next tower, pushing through to the second bridge when the way was clear.

  A clutch of Ember mages emerged at the far end but Nick’s brutal ranged attacks cut them down. The mages’ fire attacks didn’t have quite the same range, rendering them extremely vulnerable. The Ember archers were still formidable, however, and demanded constant vigilance.

  Within ten minutes Nick had worked his way to the Tower of Old - a massive construction that reminded him of a gnarled tree branch extending to the heavens. It was so tall that he saw cirrus cloud gathering at its apex. The southern approach to the tower was a wide bridge occupied by a phalanx of mages, several of them preparing to engage. Keeping his distance, Nick picked them off one by one, delighting in their agitation.

  “That’s right,” he said out loud. “BaronFuckAss is riding a DEX pony into town.”

  He
knew it was drivel, but it earned him Love and Hate points in equal measure. Best of all, he looted several Promise scrolls ranging from Medium Heal to Anchor Flame.

  Once the southern approach had been cleared, he equipped the plunge dagger and made his way into the tower. He found himself in a circular chapel, noting the ancient wooden pews and an altar covered in scarlet cloth. The Order of Embers took their faith very seriously indeed.

  A spiral staircase offered access to levels above and below the chapel. Just as Nick was pondering which way to go, a naked, ghoulish figure burst from the wall behind the altar. It caught flame as it bolted down the center aisle. Nick loosed two arrows in quick succession, knocking the thing into the pews. The wood quickly caught fire, engulfing the limp flame wight.

  What was going on here? How had such abominations been allowed to enter holy ground? Consoled by the chime of the distant bells, Nick descended the stairs. His primary focus was Gideon’s daughter, and minor NPCs were more than likely kept away from the thick of the action. He was cutting things very fine, but resolved to free Picello as soon as Inez was delivered to her father.

  Several Ember swordsman sentried this section of the Tower of Old. These opponents were lightly armored and carried rapiers. Nick knew the high dexterity weapons were lethal but he had stealth on his side, particularly with his Assassin’s Boots.

  Using his Ranger perk, he was able to creep up on the unsuspecting sentries and back-stab them with the plunge dagger. One strike was enough to send most of them back to their makers. Nick was forced to let go of a long-held prejudice - that back-stabbing was overrated. In actual fact, it was crazy fun, especially with a poison dagger.

  Leaving behind a trail of poisoned corpses, Nick reached a kitchen filled with the smoke of several cooking fires. Desolate-looking women tended to large pots filled with stew. The smell of broiling venison made Nick’s mouth water - Oakshield was taking Immersion game to an entirely new level. Nick pressed through the smoke, scanning the dirty faces for Gideon’s little girl.