The Final Step: A LitRPG Cultivation Series (Cultivator vs. System Book 3), page 1
THE FINAL STEP
©2022 VALERIOS
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CONTENTS
Also in Series
1. The Beginning of the End
2. The Pharaoh’s Offer
3. Koby’s Rage
4. Howlen’s Dues
5. War Calls
6. The Not-So-Lonely Mountain
7. Thirty Thousand Strong
8. The Nightmare of War
9. The Puzzled Seer
10. Mastik and Kat
11. Bub the Axe Barbarian
12. The First Battle
13. Enduring One’s Burdens
14. Cultivation, Gravity, and the Dreaded Math
15. Forging One’s Fate
16. A Father’s Fury
17. Under the Enemy’s Nose
18. Nobody is Perfect
19. But Some People…
20. A Heart that could Fit the World
21. The Pharaoh’s Command
22. Growing into One’s Potential
23. Reaching Menace
24. The Two Armies
25. The Battle Dawns
26. Defending the Wall
27. Two Legends Clash
28. You Must Hold!
29. What the Hell is That?
30. The Sect Arrives
31. Endless Spiral of Madness
32. A Future of Darkness
33. Screaming in Vain
34. An Explosion of Life in Death
35. Taming the Storm
36. Peak Power
37. One Last Breath
Epilogue: Goodbye, Long Fang
Author's Closing Words
Thank you for reading The Final Step
Groups
LitRPG
ALSO IN SERIES
The First Step
The Next Step
The Final Step
1
THE BEGINNING OF THE END
The Battle of Waymon would go down in history as the first battle of the System War.
On the night of the same day, everything was already over. Of the five Saint-level warriors participating, only one barbarian, Darklord, had been apprehended and swiftly executed. Of the one hundred fifty Grandmasters from each side, Waymon lost twenty-three, while the barbarians lost a full sixty-five, most of whom fell during the retreat. A few citizens died as well and some buildings were destroyed, but the battle had mostly been kept to the skies.
For the barbarians, the casualties were heavy. The battle was a resounding victory for the Empire.
However, Waymon’s Heart had been lost to both sides; it had been absorbed by Long Fang—a figure that had suddenly exploded into power. Coupled with him commanding a force of kobolds and yet fighting for the Empire, he was already the most mysterious figure of the war.
Over the next few days, Waymon returned to relative normalcy, and the few damaged areas were repaired. However, the people were growing more and more restless by the day as worrying news kept arriving from every corner of the continent.
The Orwell Archipelago had been assaulted. The frozen mountains had been invaded. Even Onystyx, the capital of the East Coast Empire, had been attacked!
These places were all under the protection of Saints or extremely powerful Peak Grandmasters, but that hadn’t stopped the barbarians. The various tribes had suddenly burst with terrifying power, with even Saints popping out of the woodwork like mushrooms after the rain. Even scattered collections of weak tribes, like the seafarers of the south, had revealed enough power to assault the renowned Orwell Archipelago.
This was full-blown war, and the world marveled at the courage of the barbarians, who dared challenge all important locations of the continent simultaneously.
However, the people in the know were aware of one more thing: of these important locations, every single one had held an important relic of the Old Gods, and barring Waymon’s Heart, they had all been stolen.
The world may not have known yet, but the continent’s Saints all did; Jorbal, the God of Darkness, was baring his fangs. He feared nothing—what gave him such confidence?
Alliances were formed. Of the five Saints inhabiting the Asuria continent, four chose to work together, with only the Snow Queen keeping to herself. At the same time, furious searches were carried out for Jorbal’s headquarters. They weren’t difficult to locate; soon, all eyes of the continent turned towards a large, barren mountain in the middle of Asuria. It was called Menace.
The three large barbarian tribes rallied there, abandoning their ancestral lands as they prepared for war. So did the beast clans, arriving in waves from all over the continent.
And while everything was going on, Long Fang and the people of Lonely Mountain remained in their courtyard in Waymon as the emperor had politely yet firmly requested.
Night.
Waymon was illuminated by lanterns, torches, and all sorts of magical lights. On the tallest tower of the emperor’s castle, in a room that the cold winds continuously whipped, two figures stood side by side.
"I don’t like this, Red…" White Eagle let out a sigh. "That Long Fang… The more I investigate him, the more mysterious he becomes. He comes from the Silent Heavens, which should be impossible. He does not use the System and cultivates his own path to power, which should also be impossible. He has incurred the System’s wrath and summoned disciplinary lightning on various occasions, yet survived. He supposedly rose from the Classed tier to his current power in only a few short months." He shook his head. "Something stinks…"
"Not to mention that he absorbed Waymon’s Heart." Red Ox frowned. "I agree with you. No matter how talented or lucky he is, this is simply unnatural. There must be someone behind him."
"Jorbal."
"Probably."
A gale swept through the room, making the torchlight flicker. Their clothes fluttered in the wind.
"We must kill him," White Eagle suggested. "He’s too large a threat to remain unchecked."
Red Ox hesitated.
"I know you like him, Red," the emperor continued, "but he is simply too dangerous. He has already reached the Saint tier of power, albeit barely, and you know that he still has room to grow. Soon, he could be equal to us, earning Jorbal a powerful ally. Without Long Fang, he only has quasi-Saints forcibly pushed to that level through his black aura. Sentimentalities are useless now; we must nip the problem in the bud."
"It is not sentimentality, White."
Red Ox turned his melancholic gaze downward, looking at the floor and, far away through it, Long Fang’s courtyard. "I am not naive. Long Fang is just a promising youth; I would slay him without a thought if I had to. We have no real connection anyway.” He shook his head. “I just believe he has more utility alive than dead. I’ve interacted with him before, and I think he’s the pure, one-track type; chances are, he’ll side with us. Besides, if the Pharaoh found him before us, why not perform the Judgment of Divinity himself? He could have easily done it even before recovering his power."
"I trust your judgment, my friend, but you must remember he’s in command of System-less clans and has no attachment to our empire whatsoever. Would you trust him to fight by your side? Or would you constantly worry about him being a traitor—which he might well turn out to be?"
This time, Red Ox did not hesitate. "Right now, the latter," he responded. "But if he swore to fight with us, I would trust him. I have spent centuries among mortals, and I have seen all kinds of people. My insight wouldn’t be this wrong."
"Would you bet everyone’s life to save one person?" White Eagle frowned.
"I don’t give two shits about saving him," Red Ox replied flatly. "Our world is at stake, and Long Fang is just a random kid. Even if I like him, there is no comparison.” He chuckled
"Hmph.” The emperor frowned, but Red Ox only laughed.
"Who is being sentimental now? You still dislike him for stealing Waymon’s Heart."
"Hmph, so what?" White Eagle snorted. He turned away, gazing over his city from the window. "That relic could guarantee the safety of Waymon—an entire city’s worth of people. Now he has taken it, just like that. How could I not be angry? How could I trust him?"
"You don’t need to." The little old man, clad in dirty robes and with a silver ponytail, smiled. "Just coexist; I’ll handle the rest—and if he stabs someone in the back, I’ll make sure that someone is me, not you."
"Your life is important to me, my friend." White Eagle sighed. "But so be it. If you’re this confident, I’ll trust in your judgment. What do you suggest?"
"Rope him in as soon as possible." Red Ox immediately began to describe his plan. "To secure an upstanding person’s loyalty, we must make him join our side, even implicitly. Do you remember Koby? That little kobold who acts as the leader of Lonely Mountain? Appoint him Governor of the South. If they accept, they will have declared their allegiance to our side. If they do not…" He shook his head. "Then Long Fang’s thoughts will be clear. We’ll deal with this your way."
"Good."
The two Saints both turned to face a massive window. None of them was the wishy-washy type; since they had already come to an agreement, there was no use thinking about this further.
"When is Blue coming?" asked Red Ox.
"Leviathan? Should be a few months. Given the armies Jorbal has amassed, we naturally need to gather a great force of our own if we want to assault his headquarters. As soon as everyone arrives here, we will march towards Menace."
"Good. On these matters, you can speak for me as well; I trust you fully."
"Or you’re just a lazy old fart." The emperor chuckled.
"Heh, not nearly as old as you." Red Ox laughed back. "Anyway, I’m off. I have my own people to gather. I’ll also handle the southern part of your empire."
"Be careful, Red. If they ambush you, you won’t be able to escape."
"I know."
And with these final words, Red Ox took a step into the air and disappeared, his figure already lost in the darkness of the night.
White Eagle immediately turned and headed back inside, his head already filled with a slew of concerns, variables, and responsibilities. As a Saint, he didn’t need to sleep, and as the general commander of their gathering army, he had a ton of things to arrange—as he always had for the last few centuries.
How he would love some free time.
On the same night, Featherborn sat alone in his courtyard, wine bottle in hand. His gaze was lost in the stars as he downed gulp after gulp, the alcohol unable to affect him. He didn’t drink to get drunk; he drank for comfort.
Featherborn had fought in the north for many, many years. He had clashed against the barbarians so often that he’d come to know them intimately—their habits, their culture, their troubles, their joys, and their sorrows.
He was a man loyal and steadfast to the extreme, which was why he kept fighting…but in truth, he had long ago stopped considering the barbarians his enemies. Perhaps, if this war had occurred back when he’d been a hot-headed young man, eager to prove his might against those he was told were evil, things would have been different. But as it was, Featherborn was only filled with sorrow. So many wonderful people dying to each other…
Alas, he was too weak to change things. All he could do was fight for the empire he served and for the father he deeply loved.
And so, alone in his courtyard, with only the wind and stars as companions, Featherborn drank to comfort himself.
Meanwhile, in another courtyard, Long Fang sat cross-legged on his bed. His eyes were closed and his forehead wrinkled, full of worries.
Eventually, he let out a sigh.
He had already consulted the other members of the Lonely Mountain team, telling them everything. He trusted them all.
Long had been faced with the difficult decision of picking a side in the coming war. The Pharaoh and the barbarians, or the System and the empires…
On one hand, the barbarians seemed to be on the side of justice. They had been oppressed for a millennium and were finally striving for freedom; they would undoubtedly go too far if they won, but…maybe that was natural. There was always the possibility of things not being as they seemed, but Red Ox and the emperor had not refuted Darklord when he described the barbarians’ burdens. Additionally, Long and the Pharaoh shared some common ideals—their desire to change the System—and the cultivation world by definition was against the System as well.
On the other hand, Long had been part of the empire all along. Strictly speaking, going with the barbarians would make him a traitor, a label he hesitated to put on himself. Red Ox had been very good with Long too, but White Eagle had caused him a lot of trouble and was more an enemy than a friend. However, Lonely Mountain was within the empire’s grounds, and that was something he definitely had to consider.
Moreover, Long still believed the Pharaoh was not to be trusted.
All in all, his heart inched towards the barbarian side, but it was a difficult decision. Each side had its pros and cons; how should he choose?
Fortunately, Long was not alone, and his friends were on the same page. They inched towards the barbarian side. Together, they had come to the decision that they should hear the Pharaoh out before committing to anything, and they had already discussed what they would and wouldn’t accept. All the decision-makers of Lonely Mountain were in Waymon, fortunately.
With another sigh, Long reached for the dark knife on his bedstand. The Pharaoh had ignored him since the Siege of Lonely Mountain, and only now was he willing to talk. Why? And why was he instigating a world war? What had happened in the meantime? What dark, evil plans did he harbor?
Unless he didn’t. Long couldn’t help feeling torn at this; for better or worse, the Pharaoh had ended up being his Master—sort of. Plus, he hadn’t shown any bad signs. Even if Long had his misgivings, didn’t one’s Master deserve a measure of trust?
Well, this is getting us nowhere. Let’s go.
With a decisive movement, Long grabbed the dark knife and slid it over his palm, allowing a few drops of blood to be absorbed by the metal.
For the first time in a long while, there was a response, and Long’s spirit was whisked into the timeless void where space lost its meaning and only souls could fly. A few short moments later, he appeared in the same obsidian, rune-laced room as always. A figure stood before him, covered entirely in bandages that were distinctly fuller than Long remembered. In his right hand, a black, red-eyed scepter pulsed with power.
"Hello, disciple," said the Pharaoh in a hoarse voice. "It has been a while."
2
THE PHARAOH’S OFFER
"Hello, Disciple," said the Pharaoh. "It has been a while."
Long gazed at the mummy; he was still holding the Rod of Anubis and was covered in bandages, but there was now distinct heft under the white strips.
"It has," he responded with a smile. "Enough to take over the world."
The Pharaoh laughed. "I never hid my desires. I will dismantle the System and become the sole God of this world, letting the people revert to the natural ways of magic instead of this washed-out, empty counterfeit. Really, just thinking about it makes my skin crawl."
