Tower of Champions [LitRPG]

Scott leaned in his seat, his gaze fixed on the ten-man party. Five were humans, while two others had humanoid features, except for their luminous, glassy eyes. The remaining three were unmistakably demon folk, their curved horns, reddened skin, and black wings revealing their lineage.

The group encircled Scott's bench, and the bear-like man in fur clothing stepped forward, eyes narrowed. "How the fuck did you get here before us—and alone at that?" he demanded.

Scott simply chuckled, lazily watching the champions.

"You think this is funny?" a demon folk woman growled, her eyes narrowed.

"Yes, very much so," Scott replied with a smile. "What were you expecting? That I'd cower and answer all your questions?"

The champions' expressions darkened. "Do you realize who you're talking to?" a human warrior threatened.

"Ah, another classic," Scott scoffed. "Let me guess—you're blah blah blah, and you'll blah blah blah if I don't blah blah blah." His smile widened. "Did I miss anything?"

"You're a real smartass, aren't you?"

Scott turned to the speaker—a man clad in sleek leather armor, a long, ornate spear resting in his grip. Unlike his companions, he wore a gentle smile, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

"This isn't some isekai bullshit, buddy," the man said, stepping closer until he loomed over Scott. "You seem like a smart guy, so I figure you know what's good for you. What's your level?"

Scott raised an eyebrow. When was the last time someone even bothered asking about my level? Now that I think about it, no one from my timeline really cared.

The man continued before Scott could respond. "The lowest level among our crew is 54," he said, retreating a step and placing a hand on the bear-like man's shoulder. "And Boris here is level 73. Trust me, you don't want to piss off a domain user. Do you even know what domains are—"

Scott's laughter cut him off.

The man's smile didn't waver. "Don't make unnecessary enemies when you can make friends."

"I'm good, thanks," Scott replied softly. "You and your people can fuck off."

The man chuckled, a sinister grin spreading across his lips. "Friendly advice—don't think you're safe just because we can't attack you yet—"

"Oh, finally dropping the pretense?" Scott shot back. "Should've done that from the start." He glanced briefly at the timer before continuing. "You won't have to wait long for the trial to end, and I'm not going anywhere."

"You're going to regret this, asshole," a woman spat, her hand resting on the dagger at her waist.

"I can't wait," Scott retorted.

The champions scoffed, palpable tension thickening the air, but no one attacked. They backed away, but only by a few meters, their bloodthirsty eyes still locked onto him.

Scott remained seated, yawning indifferently. I wonder how these bastards would react if they saw my level, he mused, suppressing a laugh.

Then again, how did a weak group like them get here first? Were they lucky enough to spawn near the Silent City? He traced circles on the bench's armrest as he pondered.

Judging by their reactions earlier, they were aiming for the first-place reward—and gunning for a record finish at that. Could the reward actually be worth it? Scott couldn't say. From his experience, Akas' Runestone wasn't anything special for someone of his level. But for others, he could see why it would be worth fighting over.

The guardian's reaction to the item was another mystery. Scott sighed as he glanced at the timer. There's still so much time left before this trial ends. I wish I could fast-forward time.

Minutes passed as he remained in place, the time ticking down. More champions arrived by the second. At first, many celebrated, believing they had arrived first—until they noticed Scott and the ten-man party. Their joy quickly turned to hostility.

To Scott's amusement, the ten-man party wasted no time informing the new arrivals that he had beaten them all to the city. Though some were skeptical, the group even displayed their system notifications as proof. That was all it took—soon, every bit of hostility was redirected toward Scott.

As time crawled on, more and more champions appeared. The once-desolate streets became crowded with warriors from different races and timelines. Some arrived in pristine condition, while others were barely clinging to life. Some collapsed in tears, overwhelmed by their journey, while others bellowed defiant shouts into the sky.

One thing all champions shared, however, was that no one dared to attack another. No matter the provocation or enmity between them, they simply sheathed their reservations.

Scott, still seated in the same position, lazily stared at the timer. Only twenty minutes left... I wonder how many people have made it into the city? he pondered, shifting his gaze toward the crowded streets.

Champions of familiar and unfamiliar races moved about, captivated by the sheer size of the majestic city. Amidst the throngs, Scott easily spotted Boris and his companions, along with several other early arrivals.

They're not even bothering to hide their hostility, he giggled, shaking his head. If their brains are working, they should be wondering why I'm not scared of them. Or do they think I'm faking it?

Regardless, Scott didn't concern himself with the champions. He occasionally scanned the new arrivals for familiar faces, but all were strangers.

His attention drifted toward the temple a few meters away, watching the champions argue about its unique properties. In the last hour, three people had been sent away through the temple, yet he alone remained restricted from climbing it.

Was it because he had used it before? Because of his encounter with the mysterious guardian? Or something else entirely? He couldn't say, and the uncertainty irked him—though the feeling was fleeting.

Scott suddenly stood, and several champions in the crowd stirred.

Look at these guys, he suppressed a laugh. He stretched his limbs from side to side, ignoring their scrutinizing gazes.

It's been over an hour, and none of the judges have reported anything unusual. And not a single one has reached the end of the city. How big is this place? he mused, before taking his seat once more.

His watchers relaxed, settling back into position, still silently observing him.

Another fifteen minutes passed in a flash, and even more champions arrived. Unlike their predecessors, many bore fresh wounds—both physical and psychological. Naturally, no one paid them any attention.

Less than five minutes left. I should get ready for whatever's next, Scott thought, rising to his feet again.

The champions observing him tensed, but he remained indifferent, his gaze shifting from side to side. Silence would soon blanket the city when the next trial began, and a bloodbath would likely follow.

Scott moved, and his watchers followed. He walked toward the temple at an unhurried pace. The crowd that had gathered there had long dispersed, leaving only a few curious or wounded champions. Some rested on the steps, while others conversed without attempting to ascend beyond the thirteenth step.

Scott passed the temple, his feet carrying him toward a district of buildings partially reclaimed by nature. Like much of the city, a significant number of champions lingered here, some even taking shelter within the structures.

Veterans, Scott noted. They knew better than to draw attention.

I can't believe none of the judges have reached the city's end yet. He knew how fast they could fly, how much ground they had covered—yet the city sprawled endlessly, with no visible borders.

Only two minutes left... Scott turned his head to the right.

He locked eyes with Boris, who flashed a deathly grin. Scott chuckled, offering a warm smile in return. His gaze swept over the other champions stalking him, none of whom looked away.

Weaklings, he assessed. The real strong ones are in hiding. Like me, they have no interest in this stage of the trial.

Then, something caught his attention—a strange procession a few feet ahead.

You've got to be fucking kidding me.

A group of champions in mismatched blue-red outfits and red boots had gathered. Each one wore a bright clown nose, their hair—if they had any—dyed blue, white, or green. Some carried multicolored bats, others comically oversized knives or daggers.

Clowns? Scott struggled to believe his eyes. They were undeniably dressed like jesters, their faces covered in heavy makeup and adorned with a crimson laughing-clown tattoo on the right cheek.

One of them locked eyes with him and skipped forward, giggling. Unlike the others, she wore tight-fitting clothes that did little to conceal her natural beauty, despite the outlandish attire and garish makeup.

Scott watched as she stopped directly in front of him.

"Psst," she whispered, leaning in closer. A sweet scent of raspberries filled his nose as her soft voice brushed against his ears. "You realize you're being followed, right?"

Scott didn't answer immediately. Instead, he met her gaze, silently demanding more.

"For the right price, I can take care of them for you. What do you say, baby boy?" She teased, her fingers lightly tracing up his arm in slow, deliberate motions.

Scott's lips curled slightly. "And what exactly do you consider the 'right' price?"

She beamed, parting her lips to respond—but before she could speak, a system notification rang in his ears.

Time suddenly froze.

A new notification manifested in front of him.

Time left before the 9th zone seals: 00:00:00! Congratulations on completing the 10th Zone! You have proven yourself worthy of undertaking the Expanse's trial! Current number of champions in the 9th Zone: 1,200,000!

Scott barely spared the notifications a glance. His gaze shifted toward the crowd, scanning the countless champions around him.

They were frozen.

Why the hell is everything paused?

He turned toward the group that had been tailing him—they were locked mid-sprint, unmoving. The woman in front of him stood still, her lips slightly parted as if she were about to speak. He reached out and touched her arm. No reaction. No movement.

An eerie silence settled over the city.

Scott exhaled sharply and returned his attention to the notifications. Over a million survived this time… but that still doesn't explain why everything stopped.

A new message flashed before him.

You have been given the right to choose the rewards that will be distributed!

Scott's brows shot up. Well, that's unexpected.

Should you choose to forfeit this right, you will receive a greater reward in the next trial.

Scott frowned. Is that supposed to be tempting?

Before he could think further, another notification appeared.

A reward perfectly suited to you will be granted if you choose to become the Prime Target of the 9th round.

Scott stiffened, his smile fading. Is the system seriously trying to bait me?

There was something oddly deliberate about this.

Regardless of your decision, you will still receive the reward for emerging first and setting a new record. Please confirm which option you will choose.

A flash of golden light.

A choir of celestial voices.

A deafening crash as ten bodies landed in an undignified heap on a cold marble floor.

"Ugh… Did anyone catch the license plate on that truck?" someone groaned.

I peeled my face off the floor, blinking against the overwhelming glow of the massive cathedral we'd landed in. Towering stained-glass windows stretched impossibly high, depicting armored warriors smiting monstrous creatures with divine fury. Massive stone pillars rose like ancient titans, supporting a ceiling that shimmered with golden constellations. A giant altar stood at the far end, bathed in ethereal radiance, and in front of it—

A literal goddess.

"Welcome, chosen ones," the woman intoned, her voice echoing through the chamber like a symphony. She was absurdly beautiful, draped in silver robes that shimmered as if woven from starlight. A golden crown hovered just above her flowing white hair, and her violet eyes gleamed with wisdom.

A proper, majestic, divine presence.

And yet, the only thought running through my head?

She looks way too smug about this.

"My name is Celestia, Goddess of Heroes," she continued. "You have been summoned from your world to save this one. You are the chosen warriors, blessed with divine power to stand against the Demon King and his terrible legions."

A tense silence followed.

Then one of the guys beside me let out a low whistle. "Damn. Full isekai package, huh?"

Someone else nodded. "Yeah, demon king, goddess, chosen ones. Classic setup."

A girl with twin ponytails raised a hand. "Are we getting cheat abilities?"

Celestia's expression twitched slightly. "You will receive powers befitting heroes. However, these abilities must be trained and honed within the Tutorial Realm before you venture into the world."

Tutorial Realm? Huh.

She lifted her hand, and a massive floating screen materialized behind her. On it, golden words burned into existence.

TUTORIAL RULES:

Time does not flow outside the tutorial. One year here = zero seconds outside.

You cannot die in the tutorial. Fatal injuries result in instant regeneration.

Resources, food, and weapons are unlimited.

You may challenge monsters of increasing difficulty.

To leave the tutorial, you must slay the fourth-tier creature: The Lesser Golem.

I frowned. That sounded… oddly convenient.

One of the guys, a smug-looking dude with a headband, crossed his arms. "Wait, so we're immortal here?"

Celestia nodded. "Correct. This is where you will grow strong before entering the real world."

"Sweet. I'm about to speedrun this."

Someone else nudged me. "Dude, what kind of power are you hoping for?"

I barely had time to consider before Celestia lifted her hand again. A burst of light engulfed us, and suddenly golden screens popped up in front of each of us.

Assigning Class…

My heart pounded as letters began forming on my screen. I braced myself for something amazing. Maybe I'd get a legendary class. A Hero-King or Void Slayer or—

[Class: Farmer]

…

Wait.

No.

Hold on.

What.

I slowly turned to the guy next to me. He had a massive grin as his screen flashed: [Class: Dragon Knight]

The smug dude with the headband? [Class: Sword Saint]

The twin-ponytail girl? [Class: Celestial Mage]

Meanwhile, me? A literal farmer.

Celestia clapped her hands. "Your classes have been chosen! Now, step forward, and I shall grant each of you your first abilities."

I numbly shuffled forward with the others. One by one, people received glowing auras as they unlocked epic abilities.

"Sword Saint's Edge: Cut through anything."

"Dragonborn Might: Summon draconic power."

"Celestial Mana: Call upon the stars themselves."

Then my turn came. Celestia placed a glowing hand on my chest.

"Congratulations. You have awakened… Chicken Whisperer."

I stared at her. "I'm sorry. Chicken what?"

She smiled. "You have a special affinity for poultry."

"…You're joking."

Celestia tilted her head. "Not at all. You will find chickens extremely responsive to your commands."

I turned to the floating golden screen in front of me, desperately hoping I'd misread it.

[Skill: Chicken Whisperer]

Grants deep understanding of chicken behavior.

Allows limited verbal communication with poultry.

Improves efficiency when fighting chickens.

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

"Bruh."

The others were already talking about how to slay dragons and crush demons, while I was apparently destined to have long philosophical discussions with poultry.

Celestia, seemingly unaware of my inner breakdown, clapped her hands once more. "Now, heroes, your training begins."

The cathedral rumbled. A giant golden portal swirled open in the middle of the chamber, radiating light.

I exhaled slowly. Okay. Fine. Maybe I'd get a chance to unlock something better. This was just the start. Maybe I could grind my way to something OP. With that faint hope clinging to my soul, I stepped into the portal.

The moment I stepped through, my feet landed on soft grass. A vast, rolling landscape stretched out before me, filled with training dummies, weapon racks, and shimmering portals leading to different challenge arenas.

The others landed beside me, their eyes filled with excitement.

"This place is pretty awesome," a guy in a lab coat said, his eyes darting all about.

"Ten houses… matching our exact numbers," a beautiful woman intoned.

I hadn't seen her clearly before, but now that I did, I couldn't help but wonder what she did in previous life. I felt like I was looking at a supermodel, or one of those K-pop stars with flawless skins and exaggerated tiny waists—only that I was seeing it live.

I would have enjoyed it more, if only I couldn't see her class clearly.

Class: Dominator, it read, floating loosely above her head. I had no idea what it meant, but it sure did sound provocative and powerful. Hell, I wouldn't mind getting dominated by that… I coughed slightly. I was starting to realize why men used to fight wars for beautiful women. But it could never be me, though.

There was no way I was going to listen to some old farts thinking with their withered dicks.

I turned to my right, and I froze, narrowing my gaze as I stared at another of my fellow hero. He bleached his hair white, but the blackened roots were all too visible. A massive neck tattoo with the words death, die, I will murder you, were aesthetically written alongside flaming hearts and a cringey dove.

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He wore a thick black jacket upon a barely visible fishnet vest which he matched with ripped black jeans and some of the funkiest boots I've seen. If I had to guess, those boots were at least a limited edition and would cost at least nine hundred dollars.

I stared at the floating screen above his head. Class: Hero of Valor.

No freaking way, him? How? I gasped. He had eyes filled with so much anger, that I was confident I would cross a busy highway if I saw him coming from the other side. I was no chicken, but some people shouldn't be messed with.

Speaking of chicken, I suddenly got reminded of my class. Why did I have to be a Chicken Whisperer of all things? I sighed.

I wanted to cry. No, I wanted to scream at how unfair it was, but I could only wear a wry smile while fiddling with my beards.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice some fat dude staring intently at miss dominator. Since I didn't know her name, I was going to call her that.

He constantly licked his lips, a lecherous smile parting them as he subtly but obviously adjusted his pants. I frowned. I knew there had to be some weirdos within our ranks. I glanced at his class information. Class: Dominatrix.

I could feel my lips open—my mouth opening wider by the second, and my mind went blank.

Dominatrix? How? That was definitely a guy, and why would a hero be a dominatrix of all things?

Was he expected to pleasure the demon king to death or something?

He suddenly turned his eyes toward me, as if sensing my gaze. I mustered an awkward smile, preparing to avert my gaze. That was when he suddenly blew me a kiss and winked at me.

I stood there, watching as he licked his lips while lecherously ravaged by body with his probing eyes. Is this what it feels like to be mentally violated? I was starting to believe that—the heroes—were just in as much trouble as the demons with this guy around.

I quickly averted my gaze. I didn't want that perverted fucker to think I was enjoying his nonsense. I would have hit, but I was scared he'd probably like it and want more. The thought sent a shiver down my spine as I quickly moved away.

"Hello, everyone! I know this is all sudden and all, but it would be nice if we could all introduce ourselves," the twin-ponytail girl said, grabbing the attention of everyone present. "I'll go first," she continued with excitement. "My name is Analise, and I'm twenty. I don't remember much of led to me reaching here, but it seems we're in some isekai situation. My class is Celestial Mage, whatever that is supposed to be. Let's work together—now and in the future."

Why is she telling us about her class? We can see that already, I pondered, but I did like the idea of us introducing ourselves. I was especially interested in knowing the name of miss dominator, not that I needed it for anything, but she was the only one that looked like a foreigner among us.

One by one, the others began to fellow Analise's footsteps. Most of them only stated their names, some didn't even bother with an introduction. Apart from Analise and Bart—the smug dude with a headband—no one else revealed their class. I was starting to think, maybe, just maybe, not everyone could see the statues screen I was seeing.

Ignored the thought for now, it was my turn to introduce myself. I took a deep breath, feeling the gazes of the others on me. I noticed that none of them focused on the spot above my head, the notification gleefully announcing my class as a farmer. In fact, none of them had focused on that spot while the others introduced themselves earlier.

"Hi! Everyone," I began, wearing the most confident smile I could muster. "My name is Miura Susumu. The last thing I remember was getting hit by some truck driver. For my class," I paused, wondering if anyone would stare at the status screen above my head, but no one did. "My class is Hero," I lied shamelessly with a confident smile.

Yet, no one called me out for it, and there were no changes to their expressions either. They really couldn't see it. But why was I different? After all, compared to the rest of them, my class was the most ordinary.

No one said anything after my introduction, and the group naturally broke off. Some immediately grabbed swords, swinging them around with newfound skill, while others studied the tutorial options, strategizing their approach.

I, meanwhile, strode awkwardly toward a wooden fence where a small enclosure held exactly three chickens.

I can't fucking believe this. There are really chickens here.

A system notification popped up.

[First Combat Task: Defeat a Chicken.]

You've got to be kidding me… System, show me my stats, I commanded.

[Hero Profile]

Name: Miura Susumu

Age: 22

Main Class: Farmer

Health Points: 100/100

Mana Points: 30/30

Level: 1.

Exp: 0.

Strength: 5.

Agility: 3

Stamina: 4

Intelligence: 2

Luck: 1

Heroism: 0

Bonus Points: 0.

Popularity: 0.

{Skills}

Chicken Whisperer.

Piercing Eye.

Mission: Defeat a Chicken.

Reward: Will be determined after the completion of the mission.

I read through my hero profile, and I could feel my jaw opening by the second. Holy shit, this is ass!

I stared at the skills section, and I frowned. Where did this come from?

I clicked on Piercing Eye, but nothing happened. I clicked on it again; yet nothing happened.

Could this be an exclusive cheat skill for me? I wondered. Is it also possible that the others have their own unique cheat skills too? I glanced toward the others, unable to shake off the thought.

If I had received piercing eye as my own exclusive cheat skill, there was no saying how absurdly powerful the cheat skill of the others would be

The chickens suddenly clucked at me.

"Shut up you! Can't you see I'm being dejected and envious right now?" I glared at the chickens.

"Fight me now, weakling!" The biggest chicken fluffed its feathers.

My mouth opened wide in shock. Did that chicken speak? I refused to believe it.

Then it suddenly lunged—its beak aimed at my most prized assets—my glorious balls.