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

Empress Siala stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her consort, Ivin, and watched as the refugees filed into the city in an endless stream. Nearby stood her closest advisors – both military and civilian – each one practically shaking with the need for her attention. Some were sycophants. She’d known as much even from a very young age. However, just because they were obsequiously self-serving didn’t mean that they couldn’t be useful.

The same could be said for her enemies, which were almost as numerous as her allies. That was the key to becoming a good empress, as she’d learned at her mother’s knee. The difference between a beloved ruler and her head being separated from her shoulders by an angry populace lay in how she used the tools at hand. And that’s what they all represented. Enemies and allies alike – they were just tools waiting to be used. Weapons to be wielded in service of the Empire.

Such as it was.

As the highest-ranking member of the aristocracy who’d come to this newly touched planet, Siala held the title. She’d been prepared for it all her life, and she had done everything as dictated by her superiors back home. But they never could have prepared her for the onslaught that had been forced upon her people.

For the first few years, they had spread throughout the Hollow Depths, settling the subterranean realm for thousands of miles in every direction. They’d built a network of fortresses and outposts, conquering towers and collecting natural treasures along the way.

Siala had reveled in their success. If everything had continued that way, there was a good chance they could have colonized the entirety of the Hollow Depths.

But then they encountered the Primal Realm.

None of her people had seen the entrance yet. Getting close enough was impossible, even for her strongest scouts. Anyone who tried ended up dead, slaughtered by an elder race that should not have existed on such a newly touched planet.

Yet, they were there. Siala had seen the evidence with her own eyes after she had sent an expedition into the Hollow Depths to take one prisoner. Almost a thousand Illythiri had gone on that mission. Only seventy had returned.

They were successful, though, and they’d dragged a living troll through Eldrathûn’s gates. The thing wasn’t just massive, though with it standing at more than ten feet tall, it was definitely that. It was also powerful, requiring shackles created to hold powerful ascended prisoners if they wanted to contain its strength. Even that wasn’t entirely effective, largely because the thing was more than willing to chew off its own arms just to free itself from those bindings.

It was still in her dungeons, probably railing against its confinement and promising them death. This was no wild troll. Those were bad enough, and often took whole troops of powerful fighters to overcome. No – this particular specimen was intelligent. Maybe not on the level of the Illythiri, but more than clever enough to speak, use tools, and conquer an entire planet. The only thing holding it back was its all-consuming hunger for battle.

That was what had driven the original elder race to extinction, and if left to their own devices, it would mean the end of these creatures as well. Siala wasn’t certain how creatures from Primal Realms worked, though. From all the information she’d been given, they were never allowed to get out of control. She and the other Illythiri who’d come to Earth to settle it had expected to be forced into dealing with them, but they’d never imagined it could get so bad, so quickly.

There was something odd about this planet, though. Something different. Nothing seemed to follow the path she’d been told to expect. Everything was just so much more difficult, to the point where she had dozens of Scholars trying to figure out why. The best they’d come up with was that ethereal density on the planet was far higher than they’d been led to expect, but there seemed to be other, invisible factors that none of them were equipped to account for.

If only they could have sent more qualified people to Earth, it would have been different. However, the level restrictions meant that no one over level twenty-five could make the trip without spending a fortune in ethereum that would beggar even the Crystal Court.

Siala didn’t even know if any of them still lived. Her people had been pushed to the brink of extinction, their underground homes invaded by surface dwellers in search of her world’s natural resources. They’d fought back. Of course they had. But thousands of years of constant battle with a far more numerous opponent had worn them down to nothing.

Earth was their last hope.

If it had not been touched by the World Tree, the Illythiri would all be dead, enslaved, or scattered across the universe.

Now, she was on the verge of failing her mandate. The immense weight on her shoulders constantly wore on her, but she refused to show it. Instead, she remained upright, her posture perfect as she watched the bedraggled survivors file through the gates.

“Are the Priests really prepared for so many?” she asked.

“Yes, my empress,” came a voice from nearby. “Eighteen temporary temples have been established near the outskirts. By the will of the goddess, the injured shall be healed.”

“Good,” Siala stated. She was no believer. Their goddess was a mythological figure that had never given them anything. If she’d ever lived, then she was long since dead. And if not, then her abandonment meant that she wasn’t fit to be worshipped. However, the Priests were blessed with powerful healing classes, so tolerating their nonsense was a necessary evil.

This book was originally published on NovelFire. Check it out there for the real experience.

After that, she asked each of her advisors to report on their areas of expertise. Housing. Food. Logistics. It was all far more than any single person could manage, which was why she had so many Administrators around her.

Finally, she glanced toward Ivin. “What is our military response, my love?”

He was a towering figure in pitch-black armor. Even Siala didn’t know his class, but she’d seen him in action often enough to recognize that he was a powerful combatant. Unlike most of her generals, he did not possess the Tactician archetype. Instead, he was a Warrior who’d risen through the ranks based solely on his prowess.

He was also the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, with angular features that looked sharp enough to cut glass. She wasn’t so shallow that appearance was the only thing she looked for in a partner, but she would have been lying to herself not to acknowledge that aesthetics played a large part in her choice.

After all, there were certain expectations attached to becoming an Empress of the Crystal Court, and her position wasn’t so solid that she could ignore them. Still, looking at his tapered jaw and deep-set, lavender eyes, she couldn’t consider it too onerous a burden to bear.

Especially not compared to everything else she’d taken upon her shoulders.

“Four keeps have fallen,” he announced. “Aeristhûn is the latest, though losses have been minimal. Their forces have bypassed the outer outposts to reinforce the second layer of fortresses, which we have expanded via some newly acquired techniques. They will hold longer than the first line, but if pressure continues, they will be forced into retreat. Perhaps not soon, but the ongoing battle strains our resources and –”

“I am well aware of our deficiencies,” Salia said, resisting the urge to show more emotion. That would not help the situation, and it would completely undermine her standing, even with her trusted advisors. “What of the surface?”

“The situation is tenuous. We have a few outposts, but the…zealotry of certain generals has put us in a difficult situation,” Ivin answered.

Zealotry. That was a generous way of putting it. More accurately, she would have called each and every general sent to the surface an idiot. Or worse. If she didn’t need competent – and most importantly, classed – leaders of her troops, she would have had them all executed.

The ones that had survived, at least.

Attacking Ironshore had not been the worst idea, but doing so and losing displayed a serious lack of foresight. If D’vix hadn’t died, she would have had him slowly tortured to death for his extreme ineptitude. The only good thing that had come from his death was that it had shown the error of using conquest to expand aboveground. The other generals were currently establishing footholds on the surface, where they’d been told to await further orders.

However, D’vix’s actions had cut them off from a potential ally. Any force capable of not only beating back, but soundly defeating one of their armies – especially at this stage – would doubtless prove a worthy partner. But that opportunity had likely passed them by. Treating with an established enemy was far more difficult than negotiating with a potential friend.

Making it worse was that the Illythiri would need to do so from a position of weakness.

“What are your orders?” asked one of the other advisors.

“Come. We must comfort the people,” she said, turning on her heel and striding from the balcony. The palace was an impressive feat, both architecturally and in terms of ethereal engineering. The designers had done their best to emulate the style of their homeland, using sweeping curves, dramatic arches, and layered towers to convey a sense of strength and beauty. Powerfully ethereal stone found deep underground was the primary component of construction, and it glowed with an ephemeral sense of power. However, they’d also found more than one crystal quarry, and much of the product had been used throughout the city.

It almost felt like home.

But even after more than half a decade in this new world, she still felt like an outsider. Hopefully, that would fade as the centuries passed, because they had no choice but to remain and fight for Earth’s future. After all, they had nowhere else to go.

Siala marched through the palace, barely noticing the opulence. It was a home befitting an empress, though she’d grown so accustomed to such things that she paid it no heed. The lack, she would notice, but the presence of so much wealth had become so normalized that she couldn’t be bothered.

Eventually, they reached the front gates, where an entire company awaited to escort her and her retinue into the city proper. She didn’t pause, but they had no issue falling in all around her. Dissent was uncommon among the Illythiri, but in such trying times, taking every precaution was necessary.

Like that, they bypassed the Imperial District, with all its palaces and mansions and into the less prosperous areas of Eldrathûn. There was nothing so blatant as dilapidated buildings or refuse in the streets, but it didn’t take an experienced eye to see the differences. Some of that impression came from the cheaper building materials, but most of the structures were smaller and less grand as well. Certainly, there were far fewer fountains and statues on display.

It took half an hour to reach the edge of the city. They could have gone faster, taking a carriage or utilizing their high attributes to run. However, aside from the necessities of maintaining proper decorum, Salia preferred to take her time and look upon her subjects. A good ruler understood the lives of even the least powerful among her people, after all, and she couldn’t appreciate their positions while speeding past in a carriage.

Still, time was not infinite, so they didn’t dally.

Finally, they arrived at the outskirts. As the Head Priest had revealed, there were quite a few temples that had been erected. They were small and cheap things, barely fitting for the goddess they worshipped. Yet, healing the people was the priority. The Priesthood likely reasoned that the goddess would accept a little less dignity if it meant that a few more of her worshippers might survive.

Salia wasn’t so certain about the motives of their absentee goddess, though she would never give voice to those doubts.

That was how Empresses were deposed.

Without hesitation, Salia stepped into the nearest Temple and activated Benevolent Ruler, which resulted in an all-around – but temporary – increase in the attributes of her people. The Priests would appreciate it for the enhanced Regeneration that would enable them to heal a little more, while the injured would thank her for everything else. After all, a little more Constitution and Regeneration might be the difference between life and death.

Once that was done, she gazed upon the injured, focusing on a familiar face. She lay nearby, nearly forgotten amidst the flurry of activity.

“Why is the general being ignored?” asked Salia, staring at Irasi’s limp form. Her childhood friend was alive, but only barely.

“She is in a coma, my Empress,” said one of the Priests. “She sacrificed herself so the others could escape. That is the only reason so many survived.”

“Last Stand.”

“Indeed, my Empress.”

“Give her the care she requires,” Salia ordered. “She is a hero of the Empire. Save her, if you can.”

“As you say,” the Priest agreed.

Salia might not have been able to save everyone, but she could at least save her closest friend.