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

by Steven J Shelley

  The elf guard entered the arena but seemed unsure how to proceed. Nick’s instincts screamed at him to escape. He noticed an anomaly just above the arena wall. It was a clump of pixels that seemed wrong somehow, like a glitch in the system. It just happened to be large enough to crawl through. That was no glitch - it was Inez Popov engineering a chance for Nick to escape the brawler pit.

  So he did. He sprinted to the wall and vaulted through in sheer desperation. Gamblers to all sides scattered like ten pins. Nick snarled at them - these people were fucking cowards. Scrambling up the terraces, he looked for a way out. He found an aisle that took him to the top of the amphitheater.

  Guards were massing in the pit below, alarmed by the breach that Inez had created. It closed over when they tried to barge through - it seemed Inez had a solid sense of humor.

  But the amphitheater was far from safe. Lazar and a dozen of his men blocked the only exit Nick could see. He was about to double-back through the crowd when a blizzard of throwing knives hummed across the terraces and pinned the thieves to the wall.

  “Over here, Stanners!”

  Lee was standing with a group of masked figures on the other side of the pit. He bolted across the terraces, doing his best to dissuade would-be attackers with his most psychotic glare. He rejoined the Corsair and her new “friends”, allowing them to take him into a plush chamber.

  “Lazar’s private quarters,” Lee said over her shoulder. “We’ve already looted over 2000 silver pieces.”

  “You’ve been busier than me, that’s for sure,” Nick grinned.

  “I’m not sure about that,” Lee said, meeting his eyes. “I think I just witnessed the birth of a real fucking dexer.”

  “You were right all along,” Nick admitted.

  “I got your stuff,” Lee said breathlessly as they descended a hidden stairwell into an alleyway. “Found it in Lazar’s personal stash.”

  She transferred the gear quickly. The party kept running until there was no possibility of pursuit. Nick looked at his timer - just ninety minutes to go.

  “How long was I in there?” he asked in surprise.

  “At least three hours,” Lee said, giving him a sharp look. “You didn’t think I’d leave you, did you?”

  “Of course not,” Nick said. “But I’m glad I had time to rediscover my build.”

  “Me too,” Lee said with a sparkle in her eye.

  There was nothing else to say. Things almost felt right again and that’s all that mattered.

  “Who are these people?” Nick asked more loudly than he’d intended. The tall, imposing woman who seemed to lead the rogues turned to face him.

  Granite-faced and taciturn, she looked far, far more battle-hardened than the smarmy Lazar. Dangerous, yes, but Nick instinctively felt he could trust her. The most curious thing was her ash-grey skin.

  “Danera Flint,” she said crisply, not bothering to shake hands. “The Corsair tells me the Siege of Durandor continues.”

  “We need all the help we can get,” Nick said. “We face more than kobolds out there. Hager has returned.”

  “We suspected as much,” Danera said with a frown. “The Rogue’s Guild takes a wider view of the world than some others. If we let the Kingdom of Men fall, the threat will spread across Tyrennia.”

  Nick bowed his head in agreement. At last, someone with a little common sense.

  “I will devote resources to your cause,” Danera said. “But Bishop Haam must come too.”

  “Leave that to us,” Nick said with more confidence than he felt. “What connection do you have with the Bishop?”

  “He shares our particular view of Ashk,” Danera replied. “If he needs to manipulate the power structure, he comes to us first.”

  “Haam seems to exert great power,” Lee commented.

  “When he needs too,” Danera agreed. “But for the most part, he just likes to be left alone with his congregation.”

  The party continued through a shady plaza, passing the drowsy denizens of a streetside bar. There was a tight discipline to the rogues’ liquid movement. This Danera Flint seemed like a born leader. She wore a dark cowl like most Ashkians - it was a matter of practicality against the harsh sun - and Nick wondered what kind of weapons she kept hidden underneath.

  The thugs in Lazar’s Shadow Guild had favored melee daggers, but from what Nick had seen so far, these guys preferred throwing weapons. They were classic rogues, which seemed well suited to a city like Ashk.

  Danera signaled for caution as the party headed through a rusty gate and into the sculpted grounds of an imposing cathedral. The steeple and nave looked like a rib cage and vertebrate. Nick had never seen such disturbing architecture before.

  “Church of Blessed Decay,” Danera said quietly. “The Bishop has pioneered new thinking on the physical form and our relationship to it.”

  Nick had a fresh wave of anxiety as they approached the door to the western transept. A wizened old woman answered Danera’s call.

  “The Bishop is indisposed,” she croaked, before recognizing Danera. “Oh, it’s you.”

  That seemed to be as close to a welcome as they were going to get. There was something profoundly strange about this place. Nick had expected a pristine cathedral in the classic tradition. Instead, this building could only be described as ‘ghoulish’. The old woman looked like death, and the musty hallway they squeezed through smelled like a thousand corpses piled on one another.

  “We can safely assume Haam’s not a Bishop of the Blessed Divine,” Lee quipped.

  “Far from it,” Nick replied with a smile. Maybe, just maybe, the pair’s earlier crisis could be repaired. They hadn’t reinstated their Bond - something about Lee’s demeanor suggested she wasn’t quite ready. He resolved to let her decide when the time was right. It was all about trust.

  The party emerged into the expansive nave, which looked like it hadn’t been cleaned for decades. The place was rotten and Nick was beginning to think engaging Bishop Haam was a mistake.

  “Don’t be fooled,” Danera said in a whisper. “If your true enemy is devil spawn, then Haam is your closest ally.”

  “Makes sense,” Lee said. “Haam is an Acolyte of the Dead.”

  “Say what?” Nick asked. The idea was ludicrous. Only a month ago he’d successfully prevented the Lich Queen gathering her undead army and marching across Tyrennia. Was Haam actually a supporter of that Black Faith?

  “Let’s not mention your particular exploits, Nick,” Lee said with dry understatement. “We don’t know how Haam would react.”

  “A fine notion,” Danera agreed.

  “What now?” Nick asked. They stood waiting amongst the pews near the altar. A coffin fashioned from bones rested there. A subtle accumulation of pure dread grew in the pit of Nick’s stomach.

  “Haam doesn’t usually keep me waiting,” Danera said with a frown.

  Nick checked his timer - they were down to the last hour. Where the fuck was this priest?

  “Forgive me,” intoned a booming voice from the back of the nave. “I fear we are in for a long night.”

  A surprisingly tall man strode down the center aisle. He looked more like a warrior than a priest. Sure, he wore of a charcoal-colored robe, but there was a brutal-looking great axe tucked into his belt. What he lacked in hair he made up for with an imperious brown beard. His piercing green eyes regarded Nick and Lee with stern appraisal.

  “I know why you’re here,” he rumbled. “King Alain is a godless fool but was clever to send you to me. How does the saying go? The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

  “We can give you a shot at Hager,” Lee said, not missing a beat.

  Haam stroked his beard. “The Devil’s Son. I cannot deny my interest in your proposition. The Acolytes of the Dead have more expertise in that area than a thousand Durandorian Knights.”

  The scorn in the Bishop’s voice was unmistakable. He didn’t think much of the Kingdom of Men, but couldn’t resist a golden opportunity to battl
e a common foe. Nick’s knowledge of Oakshield lore was minuscule next to Lee’s, but he did know that the Acolytes of the Dead saw the Devil’s Underworld as a profane and unholy place. To them, death was peace unless death was trespassed. The idea of eternal damnation was an affront to the central tenets of the Black Faith.

  But there was no time to reflect on that now. Haam was pacing back and forth in a state of agitation.

  “I will come with you, aye,” he muttered. “But there a foulness afoot and I must defend my domain first.”

  “What is to be done, Bishop?” Danera asked. “My rogues are at your disposal.”

  “I caught a glimpse of a man down in the crypt,” the Bishop said. “His skin was as pale as a solstice moon.”

  “SnowmanCometh,” Nick said, his blood going cold. “He’s here to kill me.”

  “He’s here to do more than that, boy,” Haam bellowed. “He was conjuring a Portal.”

  “To summon a demon?” Lee asked.

  “That’s my guess,” Haam said with a pained expression. “Damned Duelist was too quick for me. But we should be safe in the Cathedral itself. I will defend it to the death in any case.”

  Nick noticed several priests laying diadem prisms along the edge of the nave. Unlike the ones the dwarves had given them, these glowed with a silvery light.

  “The demon has arrived,” Haam said. “Brothers - complete your perimeter and assume defensive positions.”

  The priests worked assiduously to complete the diadem barrier. Haam inspected his great axe, clearly expecting an imminent attack. Nick exchanged a look with Lee.

  “Is that all you’re gonna wear?” she asked with an amused grin. “A loincloth?”

  “Gives me extra agility,” Nick said. “A true dexer has no need for armor.”

  “You’re fucking crazy,” the Corsair replied. “But I like your attitude.”

  Lee looked coyly at Nick, and he knew she was about to ask if they should Bond again. The moment never came. A nerve-shredding shriek erupted just outside the front doors.

  “The demon,” Haam warned, taking long strides down the aisle. “Remember, the thing can’t pass the diadem prisms. As long as they’re intact we’ll be safe.”

  Nick thought he heard the faint sound of glass smashing above the roar of the demon.

  “What the fuck …?” he said, motioning for Lee to follow him round the side of the altar. They entered the left chapel, where diadem prisms sat like beacons in pools of inky blackness. And yet several prisms had been smashed, breaking the chain of silver light.

  “Bishop!” Lee called. “We have an intrud-”

  A glowing falchion broke through Lee’s chest. Nick barely had time to turn before he was struck across the jaw. The blow sent him tumbling and he was momentarily stunned. All he could do was watch as SnowmanCometh grabbed Lee by the scruff of the neck and punched her repeatedly in the face. Blood spurted as her nose shattered. She fell to the floor, dead before she hit the ground.

  “Lee …?”

  There was no time to register that she had been killed by another pixel runner. SnowmanCometh was on him in an instant, lashing out with his falchion. Nick rolled away, knowing the weapon could deal potent residual poison damage. His mind raced as he rolled across the steps of the altar. Honor didn’t come into the equation here - if he could drag SnowmanCometh into Danera Flint’s rogues, the albino would have a shit ton of trouble on his hands. Amazingly, the Duelist followed, an arrogant grin imprinted on his pale features.

  A huge, hairy arm burst through the left chapel wall where the diadem prisms had been smashed. The demon was breaking through.

  Forcing himself to focus on SnowmanCometh, Nick stopped rolling and let his stamina creep back.

  One of Danera Flint’s rogues tried to flank the albino but received the poison falchion through her chest in a devastatingly skillful attack. The Duelist had extraordinary depth perception that enabled him to time his attacks with sublime precision. Worse, that falchion was dealing much more physical damage than earlier in the day. He’d obviously been able to level up a few times. Nick, on the other hand, had only leveled up once since hitting the Gallana Plain.

  The rogue slumped to the ground, one-shotted by the deadly Duelist. Nick cursed her for thinking she could take on this legendary pixel runner by herself. His heart lurched when he contemplated how good Lee would be in this situation. To have her here, by his side, would be … no. Regret never did anyone any good, particularly in a brutal RPG world.

  SnowmanCometh laughed openly, his hand darting into his pocket and producing four shuriken. He tossed the bladed projectiles with unnerving accuracy at the nearest diadem prisms. All four flickered and died, their silvery contents leaking to the cold stone. Nick sensed the grave danger before it arrived, leaping over three pews to get away. Sure enough, a black, hairy arm burst through the wall and grabbed an unsuspecting rogue, squeezing the poor man into a bloody pulp. The demon’s head appeared in the breach - it had a face like a demented goat and its breath was beyond foul.

  Nick heard SnowmanCometh laughing as he gleefully smashed more diadem prisms. The demon stepped inside the church and howled to the high heavens. Everyone covered their ears in agony. Nick felt his ear drums burst. A heavy ringing replacing the cacophony of battle and he felt woozy.

  The demon had his hooves planted against the cathedral’s A-frame ceiling, pressing with all its might. The stone and timber gave way, tumbling down on those unlucky enough to be standing in the nave. Nick rolled into the right chapel, narrowly avoiding the crush. He could barely see through the dust cloud, but knew that SnowmanCometh was in the vicinity.

  “Come and face me!” Nick bellowed, his anger consuming him.

  Not his best moment, as it turned out. Not only did the nigh-unbeatable Duelist come stepping from the haze, but the Demon noticed Nick for the first time. The hideous creature stomped across the altar toward the both of them.

  Nick wondered if it would attack the albino. He never got to find out. A familiar wail pierced the gathering night - it was Vanen. The Great Dragon, played by none other than Yul Sandor himself, had finally caught up with Nick. The demon sensed the new threat, craning its thick, hairy neck to the starry sky that was now visible through the cathedral’s splintered beams. Nick saw a black outline against those stars, an enormous creature descending at attack speed.

  What started as a small flower of flame became a long gout that smashed into the demon’s head. The monster seemed spellbound as its entire body was consumed by fire. Vanen veered close, ensuring it expended all the flame it carried in the cinder sacs under its tongue. The demon drew a huge spiked mace and leaped into the air, ripping a hole in Vanen’s wing. Hot, acidic ichor rained down on Nick and SnowmanCometh. Both were rooted to the spot, neither willing to turn their backs on the titanic battle.

  Vanen, howling in pain, descended on the demon’s horned head and wrenched it clean off its shoulders. The last Nick saw of the Great Dragon was a lopsided flying motion as it headed east with the demon’s head in its clutches. The rest of the thing’s horrific body came crashing down on the pews, where it twitched and shuddered.

  Nick glanced at SnowmanCometh and bolted to the only exit he could see - a descending spiral staircase by the door to the sacristy. He took three steps at a time, knowing his stalker wouldn’t be far behind. A rogue’s corpse had tumbled down here, killed by the demon early in the battle. Nick looted the body, acquiring several throwing knives and a brace of fire bombs. As far as he knew, arrogant Duelists weren’t immune to fire. He continued down the stairs, expecting a falchion to burst through his chest at any moment.

  The crypt was cold and dread-laden. Nick pressed on down the first tunnel, past the gaping hole where the demon had clawed his way above-ground. It may have been possible to escape through there, but Nick decided against it. He needed to face SnowmanCometh and it had to be here. Dexer to dexer, in this crypt. If he didn’t kill this guy now, he’d always have a shadow over
him. There would always be a seed of doubt in his mind.

  Nick needed to feel like a gamer again. A man who took risks. Staying in this crypt was the biggest risk he’d ever taken and failure wasn’t an option. If SnowmanCometh was the ultimate Duelist, Nick wouldn’t attempt to fight like one. Without armor, spells or a bow, there was only one other option available to him. He would become the one thing he’d never understood - a Rogue.

  He had the stats for it, and now he had a few of the basic tools. Better still, the crypt was the perfect arena for it. For starters, it was more labyrinthine than Nick expected. Tunnels branched off in all directions and occasionally doubled back on each other. If he could somehow lure the albino Duelist into a fire bomb ambush, he could incur a lot of damage.

  It was a long shot, but it was all he had. The only other weapons with surprise factor were the throwing knives, and he wasn’t particularly skilled with those. Of course, they could be used as a ruse. Nick smiled - maybe he was starting to think like a dexer after all.

  Conscious of every sound he made, he slowed down and branched off into a particularly gloomy passage. Musty coffins lines the walls, filling Nick with a profound sense of his own mortality. This place made him realize just how dangerous Bishop Haam was, and how desperate Durandor was to seek his help.

  Padding as softly as he could, Nick pushed deeper into the crypt. He had no doubt that SnowmanCometh would track him through these tunnels, but he wouldn’t do it recklessly. He would stalk Nick, make him feel as uncomfortable as possible. There was still ten minutes on the timer - plenty of time to turn Nick’s head inside out.

  All of Nick’s mental preparation for the coming game of cat and mouse was based on the presumption that the albino would approach from behind. When SnowmanCometh appeared like a wraith from the gloom and slashed Nick across the chest, he knew he’d failed.

  “Too fucking easy,” said the arrogant runner, wiping his sword on Nick’s hair. “The money’s worth it at least.”

  Nick sank to his knees, gasping. The residual poison damage was not only wearing his HP down, he could feel it too. Wracked with waves of nausea, he stumbled to his feet and wobbled down the passage, knowing his death was seconds away. He should’ve known that fighting like a rogue could only end in disaster.