Path of Dragons - A LitRPG Apocalypse (BOOK TWO ON KINDLE SEPT. 2)

After visiting Isaac’s house and catching up over a cup of tea – during which Artemis jumped in Miguel’s lap, where she remained the entire time – they went to dinner, where they were served spanakopita. Everyone enjoyed it at least as much as Elijah, which was gratifying. After that, they headed to the inn, where they rented a pair of rooms – one to be shared by Elijah and Miguel, and another for Biggle – from Agatha, who seemed delighted to see Elijah.

“Everyone seems to like you here,” Biggle remarked as they climbed the stairs. Fortunately, he didn’t have any issues with that, despite his size. “Surprising.”

“How so?”

“You don’t give off the most approachable aura,” the gnomish Alchemist stated. “Most people in Ironshore are terrified of you, and for good reason.”

“That’s only because I killed a few people.”

“As I said – a good reason,” the gnome stated. “In any case, I look forward to meeting this other Alchemist. I have had few opportunities to discuss my craft with someone with the same class, though that Chemist has all sorts of delightful ideas. I look forward to working with her as well. You humans are full of surprises.”

After that, the group separated, and once Miguel was settled and asleep, Elijah silently left the room and headed back to Atticus’ shop.

For his part, the weapons dealer seemed surprised to see Elijah. “I’m sorry, my friend. I am not up for celebrations tonight,” he said.

“It’s not about that. I wanted to ask for you to keep an eye out for a couple of things,” Elijah said. Then, he told Atticus what he was looking for. Afterwards, he said, “I don’t know if you’ll find what I want, but I’m throwing out a pretty wide net. Hopefully, someone will find something suitable.”

“Indeed. I’ll keep watch for anything that might work, my friend.”

Then, seeing that Atticus was in no mood to entertain guests, Elijah said his goodbyes and headed back to the inn. He’d already found that Delilah was once again out of town – this time, running the local tower with her team – so he had nowhere else he wanted to visit.

Except maybe the tavern, though he resisted that urge. He had no wish to become an alcoholic, after all, so even if it might’ve felt temporarily good to once again drown his sorrows in an ocean of alcohol, he knew it was a bad idea.

Still, it was difficult.

After returning to the inn, he slept poorly, and when he rose the next morning, he felt even more anxious to get on with the task at hand. He’d spent most of the night lying awake and thinking about his sister – or more accurately, her death – which did not put him in the best frame of mind. If the lives of children weren’t at stake, he might’ve abandoned everything else and flown off to Easton at that very moment.

But he’d promised Konstantinos that he would help, so help, he would.

Elijah rose before dawn, and he was happy to see that Miguel did the same, though he did grumble a little about how early it was. Soon enough, the pair had taken care of morning necessities, and even as the sun had begun to rise, they went to fetch Biggle. The gnome was clearly not an early riser by habit, but when he saw Elijah’s no-nonsense expression, he hurried to ready himself for the day’s travel.

Only a few minutes later, he joined Elijah and Miguel as they ate a breakfast of fat sausages and fluffy eggs as prepared by Agatha. The meal was just as amazing as always, and all three ate with the gusto of starving men. Miguel put away enough for three people, reminding Elijah what it was like to have once been that age. Back then, he’d eaten his parents out of house and home, and he hadn’t slowed down until after college.

That was the joy of a youthful metabolism.

Though, that prompted the realization that Elijah probably didn’t have to worry too much about overconsumption anymore. Even if he wasn’t so active, he suspected that it would take a truly impressive degree of sloth for his body to degrade on its own. And besides – he was only thirty-one years old. With his cultivation and attributes, that meant that he was less than ten percent into his expected life span.

In any event, they finished their meal and, after Elijah paid, they set off, leaving Argos behind and heading in the direction of the swamp. In the past, Elijah had taken a roundabout path, only turning south when he hit the ravine that cut across the terrain. However, he expected that the trip would be much faster this time around, largely because they intended to travel directly toward the swamp.

The issue with that assumption soon became apparent, though.

“It’s not my fault you’re giants!” Biggle complained, pumping his legs to keep up. “Even with my pep-it-up potion, I can’t – wait, what are you doing? Stop that! Stop that this instant!”

“Sorry,” Elijah said, having placed Biggle on his shoulders like a toddler. He could remember doing the same for his nephew when Miguel was only a couple of years old. Elijah had come home for the holidays, and they’d gone to visit the local botanical gardens that had been decorated with colorful Christmas lights. But predictably, the much younger Miguel had been incapable of keeping up, so Elijah had put the boy on his shoulders, where he’d remained for most of the outing. “I’m not going to slow down just to accommodate you. This is faster.”

“It’s also humiliating!”

“There’s no one out here to judge you,” Elijah reminded him. “I mean, we could fly, I guess. But I’m thinking you might enjoy that even less.”

That shut the gnome up. He didn’t want to travel in the talons of Elijah’s Shape of the Sky, after all. For his part, Elijah would have preferred to avoid that, too. As convenient as flight was, he wasn’t quite ready to transport passengers any meaningful distance. For one, landing was still an issue that had yet to be resolved. He could manage it, but he knew that if he didn’t possess superhuman durability, he’d have already broken his legs many times over.

It would be markedly worse if he was carrying someone.

So, they strode through the wilderness, with Biggle on his shoulders. As they did, Elijah held a conversation with his nephew, and eventually, the topic turned to the boy’s future. “So, have you figured out what you want to do?” he asked.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

Miguel shook his head. “No. I don’t even know what archetypes I’ll be offered. I just don’t want to be a Scholar?” he said.

Surprised, Biggle asked, “Why ever not? Scholars lead to some incredibly valuable classes!”

Miguel shrugged. “But they seem so useless.”

“That’s untrue,” Biggle stated. “Every archetype has the potential for immortality. They all perform valuable and necessary functions as well. Warriors fight. Rangers scout. Scholars learn. Without Merchants, fair trade would be impossible. Without Administrators, our cities would not function. There is no useless archetype. Only useless people.”

“How many archetypes are there?” Miguel asked.

“Twelve.”

“So many?” asked Elijah. He’d only encountered a fraction of that number.

After that, Biggle listed the archetypes. Warrior, Ranger, Druid, Sorcerer, and Healer, Elijah already knew. However, there were still quite a few others. Scholars, for one. Tradesmen, who became various crafters. Merchants like Atticus. Entertainers, many of which had powerful abilities to increase the power of those who enjoyed their performances. Then there were Administrators, Tacticians, and Explorers, as well.

“And from there, we have innumerable classes. Most are hybrids, taking bits from archetypes other than the root,” Biggle explained. “My point is that there are many choices, and while the archetype is incredibly important, choosing the wrong option is something that can be rectified through progression. The class choice is one opportunity, but then there are specializations at level one-hundred. After that, each time a person enters a new realm of power, they have the opportunity to evolve their class. Most will simply take a more powerful version of their own. However, there are those who choose to correct past mistakes by slowly shifting their path to one they deem more appropriate. It is a fascinating subject, really.”

“How do you know all this?” asked Miguel.

“Ah – my mother was a Scholar. She studied classes and advised the local lord on how to guide his children in the proper direction,” he admitted. “He didn’t like it when his firstborn son was only offered non-combat archetypes, though. So, we were forced to flee.”

“Everyone in Ironshore seems to have a similar story. Not the specifics. Just that they all seem to be running from something. It was the same with the elves.”

“Elves?”

“Oh. Yeah. There’s a city of elves living in a desert a little ways away. They sounded more like pioneers, though. Like, they came here for opportunity that didn’t exist on their world.”

“I see. That is usually the case with people who come to a newly touched world. It is the frontier, without much in the way of safety. However, there is opportunity to forge your own path, which attracts a certain type of person,” Biggle explained. “Though I would be willing to wager that there are a couple of advanced settlements here. They may be talented junior members of a sect meant to fuel their progression in an unsettled world. Or they could represent various other interests. Those are the ones you need to watch out for. They’ll be well-equipped, knowledgeable, and driven. In a world like this, that can be a dangerous combination.”

Elijah nodded, continuing on with his conversation with Miguel. The young man had no idea what direction his development might take, but Elijah didn’t blame him for that. After all, he was still a child. It would have been odd if he’d known those sorts of things with any certainty, and the fact that he was still unsure meant that he was at least giving it some thought, rather than simply going for whatever sounded coolest.

Eventually, almost two days later, they reached the swamp, after which Elijah was forced to transform into a lamellar ape so that his two companions could climb atop his shoulders and avoid the many dangers of walking through the murky water. For his part, Elijah seemed to avoid the worst of it, just as he had during his first trip through the swamp.

Still, because of where they’d entered, it took an extra day for them to reach Konstantinos’ compound, and when they did, they were greeted by Bessie, the guardian alligator. Elijah responded to her charge by tossing her the last hunk of desert snake he still had in his satchel. She gobbled it up, returning to her position beneath the compound’s largest building.

“’lo there!” yelled Konstantinos from the deck. He was wearing a pair of overalls and nothing else, which put his incredibly skinny torso on full display. He didn’t seem self-conscious about it, though. “Didn’t think you’d be back!”

Elijah climbed onto the floating dock, and after Miguel and Biggle descended from his shoulders, he took on his human form. Then, he began the arduous process of cleaning the muck from his lower body while plucking any pesky leeches free. Fortunately, he’d only picked up a few small ones, and it only took a quick pulse of Soothe to get rid of the afflictions they’d carried.

Once he was done, he shook Konstantinos’ hand, saying, “I said I had a friend who might be able to help.” He nodded at Biggle, adding, “This is that friend. He’s an Alchemist, just like you, but he might have some knowledge you don’t.”

After that, Biggle and Konstantinos started a conversation that lost Elijah after only a few moments. Luckily, they were quickly rescued by Marcy, who escorted them inside – after Elijah showered the rest of the muck off – where she served them mugs of tea. Then, she told the story of how a giant man had come by only a couple of months before.

“He stormed up, half dead from all the leeches,” Marcy explained. “Said he was lookin’ for a Druid or some such. Konnie sent him traipsing off into the swamp, but his soft heart got the better of him, so he gave ‘im some potions. I wouldn’t’ve done that. But I’m not as nice as Konnie.”

“Where are the kids?” Elijah asked, looking around.

“In the other buildin’,” she said. “Bryce’s teachin’ ‘em their numbers and such. You alright in here by yourselves? I got dinner to tend to.”

Elijah said that he was, while Miguel was still entranced by his surroundings. Despite everything he’d been through, he’d lived a pretty sheltered, suburban life before the world had been transformed. As such, he had never been exposed to much in the way of other cultures. Sure, he’d visited some of Carmen’s family, though only a couple of times because they didn’t precisely approve of her sexuality. Elijah didn’t know the whole story, but he did know that the resulting falling out was why she’d left southern California for Washington state.

Either way, Miguel certainly had never seen anything like the compound. It was cozy in a way that only a true home could be, which clearly reminded the young man of everything he’d lost.

So, Elijah decided to distract him. “So, I’ve been thinking,” he said.

“About what?”

“About your future. I know you’ve been working with Colt,” Elijah said. “And he speaks highly of your skills. But I think it would be a shame if you let yourself be pigeonholed like that. You need more than just the ability to swing a sword.”

“I can use a spear, too. And an axe, but I’m not that good yet. I’m a good shot with a bow, too.”

“I’m not talking about weapons’ training. I want you to train with a friend of mine,” Elijah said. “I haven’t spoken to him about it, but I think I know him well enough to know what he’ll say.”

“What kind of friend? And training in what?”

“A dwarven friend. He’s a scout for Ironshore, and he’s probably the highest-level fighter they have.”

“Higher than you?”

“I’m not part of Ironshore. So, no. Not even close.”

“What if I want to train with you instead?”

Elijah sighed, leaning back into the couch. It was upholstered in a truly garish fabric, but it was extremely soft and comfortable. “You don’t want to train with me,” he said with a sigh. “Most of what I know isn’t really transferable. If you end up with the Druid archetype, I won’t hesitate to teach you. But I hope you don’t.”

“Why?” Miguel asked, a little hurt.

“Because it’s not a strong archetype. Not right off, at least. It’s a blend of Scholar, Healer, and Sorcerer. So, I can do a lot of things, but until I got my class, I couldn’t do any of them well. Even now, strength to strength, I can’t stand against someone with a more focused class. My cultivation helps, and I intend to put you on the right path with that. But being a Druid isn’t about learning fancy techniques or doing sword katas. It’s about connection. Instinct. It’s a mindset more than an archetype. So, unless you decided to follow me down this road, there’s nothing I can teach you better than someone like Kurik or Colt. Not about fighting, at least.”

That wasn’t what Miguel wanted to hear, and as a result, he went quiet. Elijah tried to reengage, but after a few one-word answers, he gave up. Clearly, he had a lot to learn about dealing with kids.