And The World Shall Tremble: A Class War in a LitRPG World

Out the room Alex slipped, marking faces and names. They were looking for the hard-eyed ones, the angry ones, the militant ones. The guards were still standing at the head of the room, stock-still. The bulk of the crowd was between them and their targets, and so they decided to take the risk.

A single step at a time, trying to make it look casual, they approached four figures: two maids and two manservants. They leaned against their target and whispered a time and a place for another meeting tomorrow, and to come alone. Then they stopped by a few random individuals to whisper meaningless compliments and encouragements, letting the workers know that their time was appreciated.

Alex circled back through the crowd and made small conversation with Father Caskings, discussing how the meeting went only in the most general of terms and then segueing into a further discussion about the nature of healing magic until the two guards left. The priest promised to let Alex act as an assistant in the coming days, and then Alex revealed the real reason they had stayed, and the further meetings planned.

Father Caskings frowned and squeezed his hands together, lifting his gaze up. "I suppose we will need to begin such work, will we not. Very well, you will have my support. I should warn you though, it will be unlikely everyone can make the time you named."

Alex sighed as the common problem of scheduling meetings reared its ugly head for them once more. And worse, they didn't have a simple way of changing times - there was no email list or group chat.

It was clear they would need to start adapting their efforts at organizing. They wondered how people did it in the past. Alex sighed and decided they would need to see how people organized more typical tasks at some point so they could adjust things properly.

Feeling exhausted and homesick, they stumbled back to their room, thinking about their old apartment and old friends and wondering how they were taking their disappearance. Were the police being blamed? Were they mourning? Or had they vanished from their memories as well as the world?

They didn't even bother getting undressed as emotions spiraled in their head, whirling about like malevolent spirits. They simply collapsed onto the bed and...

They were in the sky. The silver around them parted for their every movement. Ripples of energy, bright enough to make their eyes burn, sprung into existence around them and then vanished, leaving behind faint sitngs of pain as the only sight of their existence. In the distance - above, below, in every direction imaginable - there were countless stars. Some were a pure white and some a deep black, some were blue and some were red and some were yellow, some were green and some were purple, and some were many colors at once. They swirled about each other, forming living constellations and galaxies, dancing the dance of eternities.

There was nothing but the silver and the stars. They couldn't move. They couldn't stand. They couldn't breathe.

Panic seized them.

They began to fall. And fall. And fall.

Its only a dream its only a dream its only a dream its only a dream its only a dream they told themself
ill wake up soon ill wake up soon ill wake up soon

i wont hit the ground i wont hit the ground i wont hit the ground.

They went faster and faster, the impossible speeds ripping at their body. Blazing light, bright enough to melt their flesh swirled around them. The acceleration ripped at bone and muscle. The very essence of their being was coming apart.

They stopped. The silver was gone, the stars were just above them, they could breathe. In the air they hung helplessly suspended, like a piňata from the rafters of some giant. There was no pain. Instead there was only wonder.

Below them was a glorious sight. Rich green hills and deep, ancient forests, towering mountains peaked with snow and plunging vales full of life. Rivers wandered from the hills to the azure seas, where pebbled and sandy beaches and daunting cliff faces stood against the endless rhythms of the ocean. Pale clouds drifted across the sky below them, obscuring the beauty with another as they swirled and danced, elaborate castles of nothingness appearing in them and vanishing instants later.

Something drew their eyes from the idyllic scenes to the edges, where the world bent and plunged over into nothingness, the life-giving waters of the ocean falling into a cruel oblivion. Things were rising from the vast chasms. There were twelve-winged birds with eyes on every joint and beaks that dripped with blood. There were vast serpents with scales made from wailing heads and maggots wiggling through their flesh. There were spiders with bloated bodies spewing plagues. There were many-headed dragons of burning bones in colors that hurt the eye to see. There were amorphous blobs filled with rot. There were...there were...there were...

They tried to close their eyes. They tried to look away. But some force held them in place. They watched as the endless horde of abominations devoured all, as the beautiful land below was torn to shreds, cracks opening up in it like a corpse splitting its skin and letting more enter.


Alex blinked and awoke. They'd had some kind of dream...they just couldn't remember what. Oddly, they hadn't noticed any indication of them leveling up, which they had half been expecting. Still tired, and certain the hour was still late, they yawned and laid back down.

A familiar voice echoed through their head, telling them of another level up and a new skill, while other voices screamed and raged outside it. The new skill was...

[] The Ardor of the Oppressed
[] Against the Tyranny of the Clock
[] The Comfort of Comrades

And then they woke up, refreshed and excited and eager for the meeting. A meeting to which one did not show up.

[] The old maid
[] The young maid
[] The huntsman
[] The chained