Tower Climber 3 (A LitRPG Adventure)

by Jakob Tanner

  Soon enough they were standing in the empty gravel pit of the arena surrounded by giant crowds roaring with excitement.

  Max couldn’t believe the power of the Caesarian manatech. Only seconds ago, it felt like they were lost in the throngs of the labyrinthine forest and now here they were back in the arena.

  The other teams were dotted across the gravel pit, many of them collapsed on the ground with exhaustion.

  Caesarian healers rushed out to attend to the wounded frog-folk who seemed to be legitimately injured.

  “No one was supposed to get hurt in that simulation,” said Sarah.

  “And yet, why am I not surprised that something like this happened,” muttered Harold.

  The team’s discussion was cut short as Regulus’ voice boomed across the arena as he and his accomplice rode the floating podium in a circle around the arena.

  “WELL, THERE YOU HAVE IT, FOLKS!” shouted Regulus. “THE FIRST ROUND OF THE UNITED FLOORS ALLIANCE TOURNAMENT!!!”

  The crowd went crazy once more with whoops and cheers.

  “LET’S GIVE A BIG ROUND OF APPLAUSE TO OUR WINNERS: TEAM BOLDRIN, TEAM MERCENARY, TEAM CAESARIA, AND TEAM ZESTIRIS!”

  The crowd’s applause was booming and sent tremors throughout the arena.

  Max felt the excitement hit him in the chest, his heart thumping.

  He looked across to the other victorious teams: their faces filled with steely determination. Meanwhile, the defeated teams looked pale and dismal at their loss.

  “ALL FOUR VICTORIOUS TEAMS WILL HEAD TO THE SEMI-FINAL ROUND IN TWO WEEKS TIME. GET READY!”

  The crowd cheered once more while Regulus and Hermia brought all the teams into the arena.

  The Caesarian ambassador gestured for all the teams to approach and gather by him.

  Max wasn’t sure it was such a good idea to have the teams get so close together after such a heated contest. It felt like a good way for excess blood to be spilt.

  All of the teams—winners and losers—approached Regulus.

  The Elestrian team glared at the Caesarians, clearly bitter at their loss.

  Such glances could be seen going in all sorts of directions amongst the teams.

  The hostility and animosity was at a current all time high.

  “I know you’re all tired so I’ll keep this brief,” began Regulus once all the teams were within earshot. “The tournament is a time not just for combat and competing in challenges, but a time for the different tower races and nations to celebrate the alliance and union we share.”

  Max couldn’t think of any words that rang more hollow than what Regulus was currently saying.

  The angry glares from some of the other teams suggested to Max that he wasn’t the only one thinking this way.

  “All of which is to say,” Regulus continued, “you’re all cordially invited to the Tournament Ball hosted by the Caesarian Emperor in a week’s time. We hope to see you there. You’ll find more details about the event at your lodgings.”

  The angry faces faded away and were replaced by shocked confusion.

  “Wait,” said Blake. “In the middle of this blood-soaked and vicious tournament, you want us to go to a dance!?”

  Regulus and Hermia smiled.

  “Yes. Yes we do.”

  The teams began to disperse and Mother glared at each and every one of them.

  There were the sad defeated teams with their shoulders slumped and then the determined victorious teams, tired but confident and prepared to take on the next challenges.

  “I thought we were going to kill everyone, mommy,” whispered The Toddler just over Mother’s shoulder.

  Mother sighed. The first challenge had certainly not gone according to their initial plan.

  The interruption by the Caesarians had messed up their goals and then all the other teams fought with each other for far too long, making it difficult to nab their flags.

  Mother looked back to the other members of the squad.

  They kept their arms crossed, hiding their frustration.

  Only The Toddler voiced what they were all thinking.

  “Unfair,” he whined. “I wanted to play and kill! Play and kill!”

  “Patience, darling,” said the old woman. “Our plan will just have to be delayed a bit, but don’t worry, your playtime is coming.”

  39

  Max and the rest of the team returned to the outpost, exhausted.

  Casey and Blake dropped onto the couches in the common room, both letting out huge sighs.

  “That was tiring,” yawned Casey.

  “You can say that again,” said Blake, lighting himself a cigarette.

  “I won’t because as I said, I’m tired,” she replied.

  Blake took a drag of his cigarette and said, “You do realize you spent more words and energy saying that then actually repeating your original statement, which besides, I didn’t actually want you to repeat. It’s just a figure of speech!”

  Max ignored the two bickering and observed Sarah who had gone to stand in the corner. She hugged her arms like she was having a cold spell.

  She definitely needed rest. They all did, but particularly her. Sarah’s trait was incredibly gruesome—Max couldn’t imagine what it must be like to basically die horrifically again and again.

  Harold was the last to take up a spot in the common room, sitting on a single sofa chair at the head of the coffee table.

  “We survived round one,” the old man sighed. “Things are only going to get tougher from here.”

  Casey’s eyes perked up at that statement. Toto, resting on her shoulder, seemed to snap out of his nap as well.

  Max’s stomach sank at the old man’s words. It wasn’t like he couldn’t have guessed that things were going to get more tough from here on out, but just to hear it stated so clearly was enough to make him feel sick.

  “C’mon, now,” said the old man. “Don’t all look so dejected. Yes, the next challenge will be harder than the last, but we’ll be going in armed with more knowledge than we had last time, which is what I wanted to talk about. We need to debrief the round we just went through: what about the opposing teams did we learn?”

  Harold glanced at each and every member of the team.

  “Not much,” sighed Blake.

  “As the next highest-ranked person on this team, I’m unimpressed,” said Harold, crossing his arms.

  Casey raised her hand tentatively and Harold nodded, inviting her to speak up.

  “Well, we know who we aren’t facing and who we are,” said Casey.

  “Very good,” said Harold. “Casey’s right. We know who’s out and who’s coming up in the next round. Usually, the second round of this tournament is separate matches that involve only two of the teams facing off against each other. The winning teams go on to face the other team in the final round of the tournament.”

  “So, we’ll be facing either the Caesarians, the mercenaries, or the Boldrin,” said Max.

  “Precisely,” said Harold. “Do we know anything about those teams?”

  “Not really,” said Sarah, speaking up from her corner. “We didn’t face off against any of them.”

  Max smiled at Sarah. He was happy to see her speak, that she wasn’t completely drowned in traumatic thoughts of Mirabel bludgeoning a dagger into her skull.

  That said, Max didn’t think his friend was entirely correct.

  “I agree with Sarah that we are at a disadvantage in terms of analyzing the other teams,” said Max. “But we can still surmise a few things.”

  Blake blew out smoke and smirked at Max, “I enjoy your diplomacy.”

  Max ignored the B-ranker and continued: “The mercenaries are clearly very powerful if they were able to harm the frog-folk from within the simulation. That’s not a lot, but it’s something to go on. Meanwhile, we haven’t seen either the Boldrin or Caesarians fight, but maybe those races have generic attributes that we can prepare for?”

  Harold smiled. “That’s the right way
of thinking, kid. Good work.”

  “Well, we know already that Elestrians have hereditary traits,” Casey said. “But they’re out of the tournament already, so that’s not very helpful. What about the Boldrin and the Caesarians?”

  “Well, one thing that applies to most races above us in the tower,” said Harold. “is that they have higher starting mana affinities. This allows these tower races to specialize a bit more than humans can. Human physiology doesn’t allow for too much specialization with stats—if you raise your strength stat too far above your other stats you end up doing more harm than good. Those rules don’t apply to the other tower races.”

  “Wow,” said Max. “So you can get a Boldrin who has a super high agility stat but low endurance?”

  “Exactly,” said Harold. “Though, keep in mind, Boldrin usually don’t specialize their stats in the way you described. Unlike humans who have an even and balanced amount of mana channels and meridians throughout their entire body, the Boldrin have a lot of mana channels focused in both their feet and hands. In most cases, you see them specialize in strength and endurance. First, to make up for the lack of mana strength in other parts of their body and secondly, with the power so centralized in their hands it allows them to wield monstrously large weapons that they forged within their mountains.”

  Blake yawned. “I feel like I know this already.”

  “Yeah, well maybe you should’ve taught it to us when you were our instructor at climber academy, huh?” said Casey.

  Blake shrugged off his lackluster pedagogical skills and let Harold continue.

  “Other than the different distribution of stats, Boldrin are quite similar to humans. A limited selection of their newborns are gifted with a single randomized trait. They’re kinda like a cross between Elestrians and humans. The Boldrin climbers are born with their traits similar to the Elestrians with their hereditary traits, but it’s a randomized selection similar to the human trait system.”

  “And the Caesarians?” Max asked.

  “The Caesarians are quite different. Every single Caesarian is born with a class accompanied with a trait; because of this many Caesarians have odd traits. For instance, a Caesarian might be born with innkeeper as a class and their trait will be a passive ability called, ‘welcoming personality.’ It’s this unique dynamic that has led the Caesarians to being such an enterprising tower race as well as a hugely stratified society.”

  “What about their climbers?” asked Sarah.

  “Their climbers are interestingly not the most well regarded of the Caesarian classes. All climbers are born with the ‘soldier’ class with a mana weapon as their trait. E-rank soldiers start with a dagger, but beyond that the mana weapons evolve uniquely to each individual. Because of their less colorful abilities, Caesarian soldiers are usually equipped with powerful manatech created by Caesarians of the ‘inventor’ class.”

  “Whoah,” said Max. “That’s a lot to take in.”

  “Definitely,” said Blake. “The manatech those soldiers will be using will be quite advanced, we need to be ready for it.”

  “And that leaves the mercenary team,” said Casey. “Other than them being horrifyingly powerful, do we know anything else?”

  “They’re difficult to judge,” said Harold. “Because they seem to be a mix of multiple different races, some of which even I’m unfamiliar with. This gets us to what our strategy should be over the next two weeks in the lead up to the semi-finals. We need to gather as much information as we can about the other teams. The tournament ball in a week’s time will be a good opportunity.”

  They went over a few more details of the plan and then everyone went to their separate rooms to sleep.

  It had been a very long day.

  Harold laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling, counting the number of little dots he could see.

  It was a tedious task, but he did it anyway in the hopes of distracting himself from the dark thoughts seething through his mind.

  He thought about Travis and the tournament twenty years ago.

  People seemed to barely remember it now. It amazed him how fickle people’s memories could be.

  He clenched his fists as he stared at the ceiling.

  He wondered how often the Caesarians thought about his dead teammates.

  If he had to bet on it, he would think they hadn’t given a single thought to his dead comrades even once during the last twenty years.

  Harold sighed and he told himself to calm down.

  He saw the face of his old friend, Travis.

  Harold smiled at the image in his mind.

  Travis—I’ve been given an opportunity to redeem myself, he thought. I can save these new young climbers from the same fate that befell us two decades ago.

  And maybe—just maybe—I can help achieve the dream you always wanted.

  40

  The next day, Max was woken by the sunlight coming through his window.

  He rolled over in frustration, still halfway between waking and dreaming.

  Max then realized something. He’d made sure to close his blinds before he had gone to bed. Someone must have opened them for him, which meant someone was in his room.

  Max’s eyes suddenly opened wide and he took in the big smile of Blake looming over him.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead!”

  “Ugh,” groaned Max.

  He didn’t understand why Blake was in his room, waking him up. He knew they had to gather intel, but he figured he’d at least be allowed to sleep in the day after the first tournament challenge.

  “What do you want?” Max asked, crankily.

  Blake made a triumphant stance and pointed at himself with his thumbs.

  “You’re looking at the new captain of Team Zestiris’ Ball Attire Male Division,” said Blake.

  “Sounds like a very impressive promotion,” said Max, rubbing his eyes.

  “I know, right?” said Blake, not catching Max’s sarcasm. “Harold assigned it to me. Probably because I’m the second highest-ranked climber here. Makes sense, you know? I hope you don’t feel bad that you didn’t get the job.”

  Max blinked. “No offense taken.”

  “Good,” said Blake. “Now, my primary responsibility as captain of Team Zestiris’ Ball Attire Male Division is making sure you and I have the proper attire for the occasion.”

  “Can’t I wear the royal garb Queen Violet gave me in Elestria?” said Max.

  “Only if you want to completely wreck the reputation of yourself and our entire tower race,” said Blake, eyes wide.

  “Whoah, okay,” said Max. “I was just making a suggestion. I didn’t realize you were such a fashionista.”

  “I’m seriously flattered that you think this super cool exterior is purely by happenstance,” said Blake. “But I’m secretly the master of being super cool!”

  “Is that why Sakura is so head over heels to go on a date with you?” said Max, offering another sarcastic jab.

  Blake’s eyes watered up. “Don’t burden my heart with such a reminder. Today, we’re focusing on ball attire!”

  Max got out of bed and quickly got dressed.

  Maybe there was some way to convince Blake to get the attire for both of them without him having to go shopping with the flamebringer.

  Max wanted to focus on training, gathering intel on the other teams, and doing more research to figure out the meaning behind his sister’s most recent message.

  Knock, knock!

  Both Blake and Max turned to the door.

  “Now who could that be?” asked Blake.

  “Let me get it,” said Max.

  He inwardly sighed with relief.

  Maybe this will be an opportunity to escape shopping with Blake.

  He swung the door open to find Sarah standing in the hallway.

  “Oh, hey, Sarah,” said Max. “What’s up?”

  The girl looked a lot less agitated than she did the night before, but she still had an odd expression on her face.

>   He hoped the odd expression would lead to the perfect excuse to escape the new captain of Team Zestiris’ Ball Attire Male Division.

  “There was something I wanted to ask,” she said, blushing. She pressed her fingers together, nervously. Did you—”

  At that very moment, Casey appeared from her room. Her beautiful green eyes sparkled in the morning.

  “Max! I was just looking for you. Did you—”

  “Uhh,” Max said.

  The boy was no expert at social dynamics, but even a socially inept nerd such as himself was able to pick up the impending hurricane of awkwardness that was about to face him.

  Do both Sarah and Casey want to go to the tournament ball with me!?

  As like...a date!?

  Max looked over his shoulder at Blake, who still had a stupid smile plastered on his face for the clearly made-up job Harold had given him.

  “Oh, hey, you two,” said Max, facing the two girls in front of him. “I was actually just about to go out with Blake here to pick up our attire. I’ll see you guys later!”

  And with that, Max accepted Blake’s offer to be assistant captain of Team Zestiris’ Ball Attire Male Division.

  “That was close,” Max sighed, an hour later as he considered the awkward moment with Casey and Sarah once more.

  He stood on a small platform as a tailor measured and adjusted the white toga he had tried on.

  “What are you talking about? That toga looks great,” said Blake.

  Max wasn’t sure if he wanted to articulate the entire predicament to the flamebringer, but he also had no idea what he should do. Both girls wanted to go to the tournament ball with him. He didn’t want to hurt either of their feelings, though, and it felt like no matter what he did, one of them would end up getting hurt.

  “It might help if you say what’s troubling you,” Blake said.

  He’d been avoiding having this discussion with Blake, but he could see no reason why he shouldn’t, so he explained the situation.

  Blake nodded his head after hearing the situation laid out.

  “Well, here’s another way to think about it,” said Blake. “For a brief second, stop thinking about the girls’ feelings and consider your own. You must know deep down which one of them you want to go with more.”