The Tree of Ascension: A LitRPG Apocalypse (Peril's Prodigy Book 2) by Craig Kobayashi (ebook reader 7 inch TXT) 📕

Auto actually facepalmed. "You tried to cover for me, didn't you?"

"Nice one, Auto. Now I'm a liar and you have blistering herpes."

"It's not herpes!" Auto defended quickly, waving hands. Garath felt a twinge of guilt for betraying him like that in front of the first pretty girl he’d probably seen in months. Maybe even longer. The Chimerist was from Wyoming. "It's from the armor!"

Athios laughed weakly and let her arms fall to her sides. "I can't even with you two..."

Just then, three sparrows zipped into view. One landed perched on Auto's head, casually inspecting the scene around it. The other two flew curiously up to Garath and Athios, then all three shimmered and transformed into humans. Plate armor clanked noisily as Auto toppled to the ground. The former sparrow on Auto’s head was now an impetuously smiling young man also adorned in plate armor - still atop Auto’s head. The Chimerist pushed the young man off him. One laughing, one frowning, they both got to their feet.

"Sorry about that," the young man with the big smile said. “I’m Obawon.”

"Of course, you are," said Garath with a fond smile. In truth, Obawon looked nothing like Garath had imagined, based only on his voice. Garath had expected the twins to be younger, perhaps in their late teen years, but Obawon was clearly in his mid-twenties. He was taller than Garath had expected too, standing around 6’3’’ with an athletic build.

"Hey, I know that voice. Is that you, G?" said the other tall, good looking young man standing across from him.

"Guilty!” Garath confirmed with his hands held out to his sides. “Jebawon?”

"Yeah, friend. Did we miss anything?"

"We were just waiting for you guys to get here," Garath told him.

The twins were identical, but only by the medical definition. They were the same height and nearly the same weight, and they both had the exact same facial features, but two identical twins have never looked so different. Obawon’s expressions and the constant twinkle in his eye gave him a very boyish appearance. In stark contrast, Jebawon had a serious demeanor that gave off an air of controlled maturity. The equipment they wore furthered the gap in their 'identical' appearance. Obawon's full set of plate armor radiated light. Jebawon, on the other hand, wore dark leathers from head to toe. Garath was surprised at how good looking the twins were. Between Garath, NickCarter, and the two dark-haired, bright-eyed twins, they had all the makings of a great boy band. They only lacked talent, which is hardly a deal breaker when it comes to boy bands.

The other guy they brought with them, Maimon, stood quietly to the side as the old friends said hello. He was a man of average height and weight, about Garath’s age. His black hair sat in tight curls and bled into the sideburns framing his unshaven face. His eyes were nearly as dark as Athios' but lacked the oversized, almond shape that made the Dimensionalist so hard for Garath to look away from. Garath noticed the Preacher ogling the Athios. She must have noticed too, as she was obviously avoiding eye contact with the silent stranger.

"And you must be the preachaman," said Garath, thrusting out his hand in greeting. Something about this guy really bothered the Necrologist, even before he caught him staring at Athios. "I'm Garath."

"I'm Maimon, the Rabbi." The self-proclaimed Rabbi shook Garath's hand, but never took his eyes off Athios, who suddenly found the ocean very interesting.

"That's funny, I didn't see that in the available Classes," Garath said with no hint of humor in his voice. He hadn’t forgotten what Auto had told him about Maimon’s preference about his Class designation due to being Jewish. Arguing semantics wasn't the goal. The Necrologist’s wanted this Maimon guy to stop staring at Athios, and it worked. The Rabbi looked sharply his way.

"I'm Jewish. Technically the Class is Preacher, but I prefer to call it Rabbi if it's all the same to you," said Maimon, his eyes raising a silent challenge to the Necrologist, almost daring Garath to call him preachaman again.

Garath didn’t take the bait. Instead, the Necrologist broke into song. "I try so hard to please thee, but no matter how hard I try. . . You’re not happy ‘cause your Class is Preacher, you prefer to be called Rabbi. . .”

Auto flashed Garath a warning look but the Necrologist disregarded it. The chorus was his favorite part! Maimon folded his arms and waited for Garath to stop.

"The only one who could eva reach me, was a Jew that I think I’ll call preachaman. He looks pretty mad, but he can just beseech me, I’m still gonna call you a preachaman. Yes I will. Yes I will. Ohhhh yes I will.”

“You done?” Maimon asked, blinking rapidly in barely concealed rage.

"Yeah,” Garath confirmed, “I am now."

Garath smiled widely, proud of his Johnny-on-the-spot cleverness. The smile faded slightly when he saw Maimon huffing and walking stiff-legged toward him. He considered apologizing and trying to smooth things over but decided against it. He didn’t have a problem referring to Maimon’s Class as Rabbi. Garath probably wouldn’t have even continued the song had the words not come to him so easily in the moment. But Garath didn’t have any regrets. Something about Maimon really irked him.

That’s what he was thinking when he got sucker-punched in the face.

Maimon’s sloppy haymaker connected just under Garath’s left eye. It hurt, to be sure, but only removed 2 HP from the Necrologist’s large Health pool. Garath staggered back from the unexpected blow, the 2 HP he’d lost regenerating before he even regained his balance. The second swing came shortly after, but Garath was ready for it. He threw up his left arm to block and countered with a right cross that landed hard on the Rabbi’s nose. Blood sprayed, Maimon yelled in anger, and before long the Necrologist and the Rabbi were trading blows.

Obawon was on his knees clutching his stomach and