The Tree of Ascension: A LitRPG Apocalypse (Peril's Prodigy Book 2)

by Craig Kobayashi

  Daisy, who'd been waiting for Garath to call her name, frowned and stood up when Garath called an end to the meeting. Everyone broke up, chatting amongst themselves as Daisy pleaded with Garath and Athios for a tryout.

  "Daisy," Garath said seriously. He was getting a tad frustrated with the little girl after telling her no twice already. "It's obvious you have talent, but I can't condone putting a child in a place as dangerous as these dungeons."

  "Fine," Daisy said, crossing her arms. "Then I won't teach you the non-Class Skills I unlocked." She stormed away angrily, then turned back to face the Necrologist. "And I’ll tell Brandon not to make your rings. He'll listen to me, I'm sure of it."

  "Daisy, don't you think that's being a little selfish?" Athios asked gently.

  "Yes," Daisy huffed. "Fine. I'll leave Brandon out of this."

  For the first time, Garath considered allowing Daisy a tryout. He may have better control over himself in his natural form with the presence of Tarzan dormant in his mind, but the ever-present lust for greater power showed its face again. Its face wanted to learn Spell Design.

  Garath didn't think Daisy would actually make the team, even if she were allowed to try out. he could even cock-block her from being on the team if she were to score high enough to make it. But could he really endanger this little girl just to, well hopefully, learn a powerful non-Class Skill? He hated himself for it, but Garath's answer to that question was yes.

  "Alright," Garath said. "I was planning to do the Molten Glacier Peak dungeon with our most experienced group first to get a lay of the land. We’ll have you do your tryout with myself, Athios, Auto, and Maimon. I want to see the Rabbi heal in a PvE situation before locking him in on that second healer spot."

  Daisy's eyes widened as she realized what Garath was saying. Athios looked at the Necrologist questioningly. Garath shrugged in response.

  "You'll have to follow some rules."

  "I will!" Daisy agreed readily.

  "And listen to directions."

  "I will follow directions! Obviously. It's part of our grade," Daisy said.

  "And stay close to Athios."

  "Okay!"

  "Alright. But you have to teach me Spell Design after tryouts. Deal?" Garath asked.

  "Deal!" Daisy shouted, then buried herself excitedly into a hug with Athios.

  Athios looked at Garath over Daisy's shoulder. If she hadn't been upset with him before, she definitely was now. The Dimensionalist didn't say a word. She didn't have to. The look on her face said it all.

  Chapter Sixteen – The Not-So-Selfless Atlas

  The group that had gathered with Garath around the fire slowly dispersed for the night in small groups until only Lorena, Duran, and Atlas remained with the Necrologist near the smoldering coals. It was getting late, and Garath knew it would be polite to offer the visitors a place to stay for the night, but after the whole experience with Leviathan he found it hard to trust the strangers. He told them as much, briefly recounting the experience with the murderous youth. He excluded the facts that Leviathan had been another Necrologist and also that she’d been a seventeen-year-old, of course. Lorena and Duran agreed that a mutual trust would have to be earned, and they departed for the evening, promising to meet Garath at Molten Glacier Peak around noon the next day for Lorena’s tryout. Atlas remained, watching with Garath as the two white owls slowly faded from view into the night sky heading north.

  “I have a bit of a confession,” Atlas said when the two of them were alone.

  Garath tensed, ready to will his demons into existence at a thought. He looked at the Mage Smith with an intense expression. Atlas noticed the Necrologist’s reaction and spoke quickly.

  “No, no, you’ve got the wrong idea. It isn’t that kind of confession,” he said with hands raised and waving. “I just… I don’t have anywhere to go.”

  Garath looked suspiciously at the ostentatious man. “Where have you been staying?”

  “With some...friends,” Atlas said slowly. “We made it through The Culling together in Jake’s basement. Real doomsday prepper, Jake. You know, I think it’s funny. He had all the guns and food he’d need to survive a zombie apocalypse, then we got Dragons. Fucking nobody prepared for a Dragon apocalypse.”

  Garath laughed at that.

  “Anyway, we had a bit of a falling out last night. Which brings me to my confession,” Atlas said. He looked at Garath with those intense blue eyes, reading the Necrologist’s reaction before continuing. “I don’t really care about the Dungeon.”

  Garath was confused. “Then what are you doing here, really?”

  “The reason for my falling out with Jake and his family was their reluctance… that’s not the right word, their unwillingness to get out of that fucking basement. We’d had the argument a few times, Jake and I, about the fact that we couldn’t just spend the rest of our lives there. I couldn’t take it anymore. We are now living in the coolest magical world I could have ever imagined, apocalypse or no, and he was content to just waste away in the basement. Anyway, I saw your thread in the Community forum about being a beacon for the rest of humanity to rebuild and all that, and thought to myself, ‘self, that sounds like way more fun than this fucking basement’. And here I am.”

  “Let me get this straight,” Garath said, smirking at the lunacy of what he’d just heard. “You left the place that kept you safe through The Culling, and you want to join my team to head into one of the most dangerous places on this apocalyptic earth because you were bored?”

  Atlas scrunched up his face. “When you put it that way it sounds kind of dumb.”

  “But?”

  “But yes,” Atlas conceded. “More or less.”

  Garath laughed, a low huffing at first but it turned quickly into an uncontrollable fit. Garath covered his mouth, wiping the tears from his eyes when he was done. Atlas stood up and grabbed another chunk of dry wood to throw on the dying fire.

  “Atlas,” Garath said. “What made you pick Mage Smith? When I saw that option, it was an immediate ‘nope’ for me. There were a few crafting Classes I noticed, but the Mage Smith description mentioned that you can only make things for yourself. It seemed to me like the most limited Class option, hands down.”

  Atlas looked at Garath, standing in the light of the growing fire and cocked his head to one side. “What’s the first thing you need in every video game ever?” he asked.

  Garath thought about it. If he had to pick one thing that all games had in common, it was gear upgrades. When he looked at it that way, choosing a Class that could make its own upgrades wasn’t a terrible option. “Alright, good point. So what does all that fancy garb do for you?”

  Atlas looked down at himself as if wondering the same thing. “My armor has various enhancements, but this stuff is just a light show. Some of the things I can make have Attribute bonuses, and some come with Skills. A few have both. One of the Mage Smith Skills lets me change into any number of preset outfits instantly. For example…”

  In a flash, Atlas’ entire outfit of glowing cloth was replaced by a full suit of plate armor. A sword appeared in each of his hands as well, one glowing with white light and the other bathed in flames. “Melee fighter,” Atlas said, waving the swords around for Garath’s amusement. “And…”

  Again, his whole outfit was replaced. This time, a long dark robe and a pointed wizard’s hat were joined by a tall, gnarled staff. Atlas pointed the staff and fired an orb of magic into the sky. “Ranged caster,” Atlas explained. “And…” Once again, the outfit was replaced in a flash. Now Atlas wore a white robe and a magnificent halo hovered above his wild blond hair. The Mage Smith closed his eyes and reached toward Garath with one hand. The hand took on a magical glow, which was then transferred to the Necrologist seated a few feet away. A glance at his ever-present combat log informed Garath that Atlas had just healed him for 230 HP.

  “And healer,” Atlas said proudly. The Mage Smith then returned to his glowing street clothes.

 
“Interesting,” Garath said, looking impressed. “You put yourself down to try out for a damage-dealing spot on the Dungeon team, if I recall?”

  Atlas nodded and threw another piece of wood on the fire before taking a seat once again next to Garath. “The heal that I can do comes from the halo, but it has a ten-second cooldown. The robe allows me to cleanse poison debuffs, but only having those two things would make me a pretty garbage healer. The rest of that set just adds to Wisdom.”

  “Do you have to have a full set of gear specifically for each role, or could you mix and match? Like, if you used the halo with your melee set, could you still heal?” Garath asked, now very interested in the mechanics of the Mage Smith Class.

  “I could,” Atlas said. “But the amount of Health restored is based on my current Wisdom Attribute and most of my melee set has bonuses to Strength and Dexterity, so it would only heal maybe 50 HP.”

  “Okay,” Garath said, nodding and staring into the small fire. “Are you planning on using the melee set for your tryout?”

  “Definitely,” Atlas confirmed. “I spent most of a week just making stuff for myself in that basement. Admittedly, when I made the fire-sword, there was no going back. I made the ranged caster and healer sets too, because I was in a basement for a fucking week. But I didn’t put nearly as much attention into making them as the melee set.”

  “That thing is pretty badass,” Garath agreed, laughing. “Well count me excited to see you in action tomorrow. As for not having anywhere to go tonight, you’re welcome to stay here. I’ve been sleeping on this clifftop because the weather has been so nice.”

  “Really?” Atlas asked dubiously. “Aren’t you worried about getting attacked or something while you’re sleeping?”

  Garath smiled. “No, not really.”

  The Necrologist willed Handsome and Bill into existence, then focused on funneling Mana into the one-second cast to bring his gargantuan demon-golem out as well. Atlas took a step back, wide-eyed at the sudden appearance of three demons within a few feet of him.

  “Meet Bill, Handsome, and my Golem. They keep watch while I sleep,” Garath told him. “You’ll be safe here.”

  Atlas thanked him for the hospitality and was strangely comfortable with the demons, more so than anyone else that had ever seen them. He immediately started patting Bill’s head and scratching his ears fondly, then turned to Handsome and told the hideous winged demon how fitting his name was. It made Garath a little uncomfortable when Atlas started feeling the Dreadreaver’s bicep and then comparing it to his own, but he wasn’t doing any harm. Garath was touched. Everyone else seemed apprehensive at best when confronted with his summoned creatures. He knew it might be silly, but the simple kindness Atlas showed his demons went a long way toward earning the Necrologist’s trust.

  The Mage Smith and the Necrologist talked for a while longer before falling asleep, one on either side of the campfire beneath the stars.

  Chapter Seventeen – MGP

  In stark contrast to the last dungeon, Garath walked between molten lava and spouts of flame in the first room of the cavernous dungeon known as Molten Glacier Peak. He had chosen the oxymoronically-named dungeon for the remaining tryouts for two reasons. It was close to the Guild Hall, a three-hour flight northeast. Also, the suggested Level was 19-21. It would hopefully provide a better challenge than the Ice Caves had.

  Before the apocalypse, Glacier Peak had just been a volcano, one of several in the area, with a self-evident name - it had been dormant since the 1700's. Glaciers had formed on the sleeping giant over the last three hundred years, but they were gone now. The area around the dungeon was now bubbling with lava.

  Surprisingly, Daisy didn't complain once during the flight. Athios took the time to explain group dynamics to the girl, who had more than enough questions to occupy all three hours. Upon landing, the Dungeon team hopefuls found the portal leading into the instance on a plateau at the peak of the great mountain. Garath entered the dungeon with Athios, Auto, Maimon, and Daisy in a rush to avoid being singed by an unexpected burp of lava. The rest of the group made themselves comfortable on a second plateau not far from the portal, several feet away from the flowing rivers of hot liquid.

  The dungeon layout seemed simple enough at first glance, and even vaguely familiar. Not as if he’d been there before, but more like a recognition of what it expected of a Party that entered it. Upon initiating the instance, the dungeon Party appeared at one end of a long, straight, subterranean tunnel, nearly thirty-feet across with a high, domed ceiling. Molten walls and a strip of flowing lava on either side of the subterranean corridor illuminated the way ahead. The main corridor extended straight for close to two-hundred yards.

  At the entrance of the corridor, a roll of weathered parchment lay on top of a basalt pedestal. With Auto looking over his shoulder, Garath unrolled the ancient paper, revealing a crude, hand-drawn map of what was ostensibly this dungeon.

  “Remind me to thank whoever left this here,” Auto quipped.

  He instantly recognized the long hallway they were currently in. He could make out five doorways on each side of the hall on the map, and a quick glance up confirmed them. The smaller rooms were rounded on the inside, like ten globes attached to one main shaft. A massive chamber waited at the end of the tunnel. Even from here, Garath could see it was protected by a magical barrier that sparked and popped with black and neon green energies.

  According to the map, five crudely drawn enemies waited in each of the ten smaller rooms protruding from the main corridor. The words ‘goat demon’ were scribbled on a hastily created legend at the bottom.

  A look inside one of the rooms made it clear to Garath that they were channeling some kind of spell, standing in a circle with their arms outstretched. Tendrils of purple smoke connected the goat-people’s fingers to a floating black orb in the center of the room.

  Apart from the five enemies in each room, Garath could see two patrol units in the main tunnel. Each patrol unit walked half the length of the main tunnel before heading back the way they’d come. These patrols were also goat-people, but they wore long black robes, and each carried a staff, clearly marking them as casters.

  "This dungeon is supposed to be for Levels 19 to 21, right?" Auto asked, currently in human form with his sword and shield equipped. He wielded a simple broadsword, three feet long and honed on both sides. The shield was something else entirely. Auto said he’d picked up the Epic-ranked shield as a rare drop at the end of a dungeon his Party did in the mountains before making the trip to Washington. A marvel of steel and jade, the circular shield was adorned with a glowing green gem in the center and a second, pale green gemstone circling the perimeter.

  "Correct," Maimon said. The Rabbi equipped his tall white staff to match his white robes, gloves, and cap.

  "Let's make quick work of this then,” Auto said. “It’s like my uncle used to say…”

  “Shut your ass, Auto. You don’t even have an uncle,” Garath said.

  Auto looked hurt. “Nobody has an uncle anymore.”

  “Alright, fine. What advice does your uncle have for us?” Garath asked.

  Everyone looked at Auto expectantly.

  Auto smiled. “Time is like a tree falling with nobody to hear it. It is just a pointless theoretical debate."

  Garath smiled weakly, brows high on his forehead as he thought about that. “Yeah, not bad. But why tell us a proverb about time?”

  “Because we’re going to get through this bitch in a hurry. I’m going to go round them up, you guys just wait here. By the time I’ve got them all, believe me, they will not be interested in you. So don’t worry about pulling aggro. Just light them up,” Auto instructed, shimmering into a new form as he finished.

  Dark fur shot from the Chimerist’s neck and arms as his back and shoulders swelled into a hulking, unnaturally muscular form. The shield and sword shimmered into nothing and long, deadly claws grew from his hands in their place. His incisors lengthened and his face con
torted and sprouted black fur. When the transformation to Auto's Man-Bear form was complete, he stood just under seven feet and was built like a brick shithouse. The Chimerist leaned close to Garath.

  “I had another proverb that was better,” Auto growled in a low tone. Then he looked meaningfully at Daisy, and back at Garath. “It had some very N.S.F.W. material including some moonshine and the origins of these half-goat people, but I figured it wasn’t very kid friendly.”

  "You're just going to pull all of them at once?" Athios asked incredulously.

  "Yep," Auto said casually, in a growling baritone. "Maimon, gimme da bubbles."

  Maimon nodded. The Rabbi closed his eyes and lifted his staff. When he opened them, a transparent bubble with a glossy exterior appeared around the hulking bear-man. Garath knew from their duel that it would absorb a good amount of damage in Auto's place.

  Protective Rabbi bubble in place, Auto got to work. He barreled down the tunnel in a run-crawl hybrid roaring a challenge to the dungeon dwelling demons. He reached the first patrol and slammed into them at full speed, knocking both to the ground. Then Auto turned and ran into the first room on the right, out Garath’s line of sight. The patrol unit got to their hooves and gave chase, following the Chimerist into the room. Seconds later, Auto barreled back into the main hallway with seven goat-men in hot pursuit. The five demons that had been inside the room ran after him with daggers raised. The patrol unit of goat-man-casters sent evil-looking spells that hit nothing but the rock wall as Auto entered the room across the tunnel, beyond their line of sight once again.

  Athios, Daisy, and Garath watched in silent wonder as Auto proceeded down the main hall, popping into each room for a few seconds before popping back out with five more demons on his tail, then moving on to the next room. Occasionally the Man-Bear would stop and rake both claws in a wide cleave, slashing across the bodies of the raging goat-men when they got too close. By the time Auto made his way to the last room, several of the goat-men had died due to massive blood loss from the sporadic attacks.