Road to Mastery: A LitRPG Apocalypse
Chapter 111: The Trampling Ram

The Trampling Ram was the largest starship in the docks—or rather, outside of them. It floated before one of the openings in the wall, five hundred feet over the city. Any random item dropped from this height could incapacitate the weaker people below.

However, the starship didn’t bob with the wind as one would expect. Instead, it was completely still, as if anchored to space itself. Despite this stability, thick chains extended from the edge of the docks to the starship ten feet away, holding it in place should anything go wrong.

The Trampling Ram had a similar shape to the other starships: like an elongated pyramid hovering sideways. However, it dwarfed most of them in size. It was about a hundred feet long and fifty wide at its base—the back part.

It also had some differences compared to other starships. First, it was covered in windows, especially around the middle, making its exterior walls seem like they were made half of glass and half of metal. The other starships only had small, circular windows. Second, it did not end in a sharp tip, but rather in a large goat head made of solid steel; hence its name.

“The Trampling Ram,” captain Dordok declared proudly, puffing his chest as he gestured at his ship. “Her top aerial speed is ten thousand miles an hour. Weighs only ten tons, made of void steel, and can warp twice a day.”

“It looks…intimidating,” Jack said.

“Sure does. Imagine her running into a planet at full speed; they won’t live to tell the tale. We ran through a large pack of space monsters with her prow once. Tell me; do you think those boring tip-prowed ships can do the same?”

“No, Captain.”

The captain looked genuinely happy to see his starship, as well as very proud to show it off. Jack had the feeling that, if he let him be, he would go on and on about previous adventures without actually showing him anything. They were here so he could take a look at the ship before it was crowded with people.

“Does the inside look as good as the outside, Captain?”

“Good? Of course it looks good! But remember, kid; the important beauty is in the inside. The outside is only a bonus—the Trampling Ram just happens to have both.”

“I will remember it, Captain. And after this introduction, I can’t wait to see what the inside looks like.”

“Well then, let me show you!”

Captain Dordok waved a hand, and a door on the back of the ship—the flat part that was the pyramid’s bottom—slid open. “Place the ramp.”

“The ramp?”

“Yes. Lesson one: Open your eyes and look around before you ask stupid questions.”

Jack looked around. Indeed, a wooden ramp about twenty feet in length and five in width lay strewn to the side. He grabbed one side, Brock grabbed the other—both were at the same end, just on opposite sides—and together, they placed it down to connect the starship to the docks.

“After you, Captain,” Jack said. The captain nodded and went ahead, walking the narrow ramp like he’d been born on it. His wide feet, clad in old black boots, found easy purchase on the wood. A tattered cloak fluttered behind him, held in place by the massive steel greatclub that hung diagonally down his back: the handle was at the side of his neck, and the fat end reached down to his thighs.

There wasn’t much more clothing on the captain’s body. Short dark pants with clipped edges covered from his waist to just above his knees, leaving his muscular legs bare, while there was nothing on his chest. He only wore boots, shorts, and a cloak.

Jack walked the plank after him. His footing was steady, of course, as was Brock’s, but he still felt a moment of unease when he was suddenly five hundred feet above the ground, suspended only on a flimsy wooden ramp. A moment later, fear turned to awe as he saw the city stretching in all directions, illuminated by a myriad tiny lights. The wind rapped his face, making the whole sight even more real.

Brock shared the awe, skipping the fear part. He was a brorilla. High places didn’t scare him.

Then, they were in the ship.

A cube-shaped room nine feet at a side surrounded them. The walls were made of gray metal, with lamps of yellow, natural light illuminating the room from the corners.

“That’s the cargo hold,” the captain said, pointing at a closed door to the right. “It’s empty now. It will be your room.”

The doors inside the ship weren’t sliding, but old-fashioned, made of metal and with a handle that you had to push or pull. The captain reached for a door straight ahead of them—the only other door in the room—and pulled it open, revealing a corridor.

It stretched both up—with a ladder—and to the right. The part heading right had one door to the right and two to the left, then ended in another ladder headed up.

“This is the main corridor,” the captain explained, “and we are at the third deck—the lowest floor, if you will. There are two identical corridors above us, connected by the ladders you see, each housing one floor of the ship. You can imagine these three corridors—which we collectively refer to as the main corridor—as parallel to the stern of the ship—stern is what we call the back part.”

“I’m familiar with the word.”

“Good. Now, I won’t show you everything at once, but I will describe the general idea. Picture the stern in your mind—the flat part of the pyramid. Imagine three floors just inside it, all connected by the corridor in front of you, the two above you, and the ladders. The lower deck—at the very bottom—houses storage and utility rooms, as well as the cargo hold and the people’s exit. The upper deck—at the very top—is living quarters, both for the crew and for passengers. The main deck is in the middle, and it leads to the core parts of the ship: the bridge, the escape shuttles, the secondary exit, and the main room.”

“Okay,” Jack said, struggling to visualize all those. He pictured the pyramid-shaped ship hovering sideways, then he imagined two lines splitting it horizontally into three floors. The top and bottom ones couldn’t stretch far due to the ship’s shape. The middle was the only floor that continued deeper, occupying the entire ship after some point.

“Working as a guard means you rarely work. You will only be needed if trouble presents itself. At other times, you will either be lazing about or cleaning,” captain Dordok explained. “But when there is trouble, you will need to get your ass to the main room immediately no matter what you’re doing. Follow me.”

They climbed the ladder to the next floor—the main deck—then walked to the only door of the corridor and opened it. A large room stretched before Jack—as large as it could be, in any case. Its ceiling, walls, and floor were all diagonal—probably the ship’s outer walls—and its far side was occupied by three doors leading deeper.

The room itself was spacious. There were couches, tables, a kitchen, a walled-off bathroom, even a mostly empty library. Accessories of all kinds filled the bottom of that library, from dice to cards.

However, the room’s most striking feature were its surroundings. The floor, the walls, the ceiling… All of them were made of glass, looking out into the city and the dark sky above.

“The view is amazing when we’re in space,” captain Dordok said with a hint of longing. “You’ll see. In any case, this is where we spend most of our time when not cultivating in our rooms. It is also where you will need to be if the alarm sounds.”

“Who would attack us in space?”

“Space monsters and pirates, of course,” the captain said as if it made perfect sense. “Now, from left to right, those three doors lead to the secondary exit—from where you can go fight space monsters, if need be—the bridge, from where we power and navigate the ship, and the escape shuttles. Pray that we never have to open that last door.”

Having said that, the third door seemed in perfect condition, as did the others. The captain clearly didn’t skimp on maintenance.

“Any questions?” he asked.

“It is beautiful, Captain,” Jack replied. “But aren’t these glass panels dangerous? I mean, if people or…space monsters…attack us, wouldn’t they break easily?”

“That’s three feet of tempered glass you’re talking about, boy,” the captain replied proudly. “It isn’t exactly as sturdy as steel, but it’s close. And much, much more beautiful. The only issue is that they’re expensive—cost almost as much as the rest of the ship combined—but I couldn’t give her anything less than the best.”

“They are indeed beautiful, Captain…” Jack said, looking around. Though the glass floor was disorienting at the moment, he had no doubt that it would be amazing when he got used to it. “If I may, how much does a good starship cost?”

The Sage had gotten one for a few hundred thousand credits. If a credit here was similar to a dollar back on Earth, Jack suspected that the Sage had gotten himself quite the deal.

Captain Dordok turned to Jack and gave him a look full of meaning. “You cannot buy a good starship, boy. You can buy a starship. It only becomes good after you have sailed the galaxy together for centuries, when you know its every inch like the back of your hand, when you have seen its every screw and bolt replaced so that nothing remains of the original. Then, and only then, does a starship become good.”

“I see,” Jack said. Though captain Dordok hadn’t really answered his question, he didn’t press.

“Don’t view ships as objects, boy,” the captain continued in an earnest tone. “They are more than just a collection of parts. They have a soul. They are one with the captain and the crew; just another old friend. A ship will never abandon you in your time of need, and you should treat it the same way. That is all they ask of you: loyalty. And that is also the very essence of our crew.”

Jack looked around with new eyes. “I see, Captain,” he said, though he really didn’t. Perhaps he would in time. Earthen sailors used to say similar things. “Indeed, the gift you gave your ship—the glass walls of the main room—look great. Much better than the tiny windows of other ships.”

“They do, don’t they?” Dordok puffed up, full of pride. “Well, it was also a gift to myself, if I’m being honest. I grew up as a sailor in my home planet. I’ve transitioned from the seas to space now, but I still couldn’t handle being locked up in a box for months on end. What I love about traveling is the wind and sand on my face, the sea breeze and salt. I want to keep my ship as close to that as possible, though most things are certainly…different.”

“Why did you leave, then?” Jack asked. “If you preferred the sea, why become a starship captain?”

“There isn’t much for an immortal to do at sea.” Dordok shrugged. “Becoming an immortal is my greatest regret. I was forced to move to a larger ocean, that of space, which is lacking in many parts—though it does offer sights that I would never see on any planet.”

“Like what?”

“You’ll see. Surprise is part of the experience.” Dordok smiled, revealing a set of square teeth. “Now then. This will be all for now. It is time to meet your shipmates. They should be here in a moment.”

“How do you—”

The door behind them opened slowly, revealing three people. Two were feshkurs. The last was a hulking, brown-furred minotaur.

Vashter was one of the feshkurs; the weakest one.

Feshkur, Level 85

Faction: -

Feshkur, Level 99

Faction: -

Minotaur, Level 111

Faction: -

Before Jack could introduce himself, two more people entered the main room. One was a chubby, overdressed male saphira. The other was Vlossana.

“Oh!” she said, seeing him. “Hi!”