It turned out Mr. Least wasn’t at home, so Dick promptly started shoveling buttcoin into his inventory. He soon ran into a problem, though. Mt. Least’s quastle was built out of buttcoin, and by taking coins, Dick destabilized the entire structure, causing it to come crashing down.
“Well, sheeeit,” Dick said, looking at the immense work required to pick up the remaining coins. Thankfully, the Dicksciples came to the rescue.
“Patriarch! Fear not! I shall collect the buttcoin for you!”
“No! I SHALL!” a [Little Dick Formation] Dicksciple screamed, plunging his jade dagger into the jade robes of the [Nascent Patty] Dicksciple.
“I don’t really care who does it. Just get me my coin!” Dick roared.
Unfortunately, the Dicksciples did not have eyes and could not see Mt Tai. They continued to skewer each other until there was only one remaining.
Covered in blood, and standing on a pile of his fellow Dicksciples’ corpses he grinned at Dick. “THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE.”
“Holy guacamole, batman!” said Greg. “Are we really witnessing the student-turning-on-the-master trope?
“Hey Dick,” God said, popping in. “Want a truck?”
“Obviously.”
“Well how about you go to this place called the demon realm? If you can defeat the [Demon Lord] there, I’ll get you the nicest truck money can buy. Ah shoot. Forgot this was a litrpg. Sorry, lemme put that into a system message for no good reason.”
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Quest! Defeat the Demon Lord!
Quest Giver: The System. Aka God (obviously)
Quest Description: I literally just told you what to do. I’m not going to write it out again here.
Quest Reward: TRUCK (Mericun)
“Deal,” Dick said instantly.
“Wait, didn’t you choose option B way back in chapter [One] because you didn’t want to fight someone powerful?” Greg said.
“Well yeah, but there were no trucks involved. God even said so.”
“I did say that,” God said. “But that’s all water under the bridge, amirite? Poggers.”
Dick nodded sagely. “Poggers.”
“YOU CAN’T IGNORE ME!” the Dicksciple from earlier said, rushing at Dick.
“Butch, go fetch!” Dick said, ordering his toy dog.
Butch ran on his tiny legs and bit the robe of the Dicksciple, causing him to trip and break his head on a sharp rock that happened to be placed at that exact location.
Dick looked upon his Deadsciple with disappointment. “You were the chosen one. You were supposed to destroy the sith, not join them!”
Dick turned to God. “There’s nothing for me here now. Tell me, how do I enter this demon realm?”
“It’s quite simple really. All you gotta do is perform the ancient ritual.”
“Oh yeah? That a dance or something?”
“He said ritual, Dick,” Greg admonished. “A ritual isn’t a dance.”
“Ohhhhhhh, I’m afraid it is,” God said in an Emperor Palaticious voice, handing Dick a microphone. “You may travel to the demon realm… only if you perform Michael Jackson’s Bad on stage.”