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

“So, this used to be central Africa, right?” Elijah asked as he followed Aybara through the lobby. It was an expansive space, airy and open, with plenty of natural light filtering in from the massive windows cladding the building in glass. Taking a place of prominence was a sculpture comprised of elegantly twisted white and green metal. They weren’t enameled, either. Those were their natural colors, and given the ethera wafting off of the piece, it was easy to assume that the materials were magical in nature. When Elijah looked upon the carvings, he felt a sense of calm detachment that served to clear his thoughts.

“Indeed,” Aybara answered. “However, we have since expanded our roster of Space Mages to include people of all ethnicities.”

“All human, though,” Elijah noticed.

“The Conclave and the Spires are a human endeavor. There is no place for outlanders here,” Aybara stated.

“You do allow them to use the Spires, though.”

“We will take their money, but the Conclave does not admit non-humans. By order of Chairman Hui Shui.”

“Hmm.”

Elijah didn’t offer any other response, but he found the notion a little regressive. Certainly, he recognized the danger posed by some of the settlers. They’d come to Earth with more knowledge than any natives, and they’d had a bit of a head start in terms of levels. Yet, he hadn’t met many who’d come to conquer or exploit the world.

The dark elves were one group, though that situation was obviously more complex than he’d known at the time. Then there were war elves like the one who’d tried to betray him during the Trial of Primacy. Elijah couldn’t even remember his name, but the situation itself was still burned into his memory. Breeze the Alchemist had come with a conqueror’s mindset as well.

But attributing those sorts of traits to every outworlder who’d come to Earth was a mistake.

Elijah let those thoughts flow through his mind as he followed Aybara through the lobby, the design of which reminded him of utopian science fiction movies. All rounded edges, towering columns, and shiny, minimalist surfaces. Soon enough, they reached the elevator, which was made all of glass, so Elijah got a good overhead view as they shot to the top floor.

To call it impressive was an understatement.

Upon exiting, Aybara handed him off to a pretty woman of African descent. Judging by her accent, she was native to the area, though she didn’t seem to possess significant levels. Probably one of the low-ranking members of the Conclave.

In any case, she led him to a conference room featuring a large conference table with a silver base. The surface was made of crystal into which jade trim had been embedded. The piece pulsed with ethera, though Elijah couldn’t figure out its purpose.

So, he turned his attention to the rest of the room, which featured framed sketches of Conclave spires in various states of development. The very first of them was simply a rod that had been driven into the ground, and each sketch progressed from there until the last in the series showed the design with which Elijah was familiar.

It was proof of just how much work had gone into getting the teleportation network up and running. Once, he’d heard someone claim that the Forge of Creation was a new wonder of the world – a sentiment Elijah could get behind. However, he also believed that the teleportation network was just as impressive an accomplishment.

Different, certainly, but likely even more impactful on the world.

And Elijah couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of appreciation for a job well done. Judging by some of the things he’d witnessed since his arrival in Gatehold, the Conclave was still hard at work expanding their network, both in terms of scope and efficiency.

He could support that, and wholeheartedly.

“May I offer you a refreshment?” asked the woman.

“You have coffee?” he asked. He had his own, but Elijah wasn’t going to pass up a chance to try something new.

“We do. Grown in the nearby highlands,” she answered. “I shall fetch you a cup. Would you like sugar?”

Elijah shook his head. “No, thanks. I have honey from home. I’ve gotten used to it.”

“Very well.”

With that, the woman turned and glided away, leaving Elijah to his own devices. As he waited, Elijah studied the sketches a little more closely, moving from one to the other as he attempted to spot the differences. He could recognize that the glyphs changed, becoming far more complex with each iteration, but beyond that, he was stumped as to just what they meant.

“The key was the material. Eventually, it was identified as zenthryl, but we refer to it as arcane silver.”

The man had appeared so suddenly that his first instinct was to summon his scythe and face him down. But he corralled that instinct and remained calm, refusing to turn. Instead, Elijah continued to study the final sketch while wrapping Soul of the Wild around the newcomer.

He was short. Maybe a few inches over five feet. But he was built like an Olympic gymnast, with plenty of compact muscle that screamed that he was a fighter. Ethnically, he was clearly of Asian descent, and he wore an outfit consisting of voluminous pants that disappeared into tight boots. The same was true of his top, which gathered at his elbows, merging with form-fitting, fingerless gloves.

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“Hui Shui,” Elijah guessed.

The man in question bowed deeply, saying, “At your service, Elijah Hart.”

Elijah turned to face the leader of the Conclave, and he was a little surprised to see that the outfit was pure white. He looked like a ninja without a mask, complete with a pair of shortswords strapped to his back.

“I have to say – you aren’t what I expected,” Elijah stated.

Hui Shui grinned. “Is that a good thing?” he asked. His accent was obvious, though it wasn’t enough to distort his words. Wherever his country of origin, he’d clearly spent quite a lot of time perfecting his English.

“The jury’s still out,” Elijah admitted. Then, he extended his hand. As Hui Shui grasped it, he added, “Good to finally meet you. I probably should have come here much sooner, given how much I use your Spires.”

Hui Shui laughed. “True, true. Though of late, the notion of getting a visit from the Reaper of Bloodrock Bay has become the stuff of nightmare,” he stated. “I hope that this is not that sort of meeting.”

“Is that what they call me?” Elijah asked.

Hui Shui shrugged, turning away from him and striding to the end of the table. “Some do,” he admitted. “Some call you much worse. You have your fans as well, though. No one can claim that you didn’t do the world a service. Those pirates had become quite a problem, and their absence has opened trade to a degree that no one expected.”

“Seems like you might have lost some money,” Elijah reasoned. After all, if the seas were too dangerous to traverse, then moving goods through the Spires was a much more attractive option.

“Not really. The Spires are very well suited to individual travel, but they are inefficient for moving vast quantities of goods. A proper Teamster can do it almost as quickly and far more efficiently,” he explained. “The same is now true of maritime shipping. Thanks to you. Please, have a seat. Mia will be here presently with the coffee.”

Elijah took the offered opportunity, planting himself on the far side of the table. “So, do you want to know why I am here?” he asked as Hui Shui sat. “Also, that was a neat trick, just appearing in here. Word of warning, though? Don’t do that unless you’re ready to defend yourself. With what I’ve been through, surprises are anything but welcome.”

“Fair enough,” the leader of the Conclave said, spreading his hands in apology. “I have a habit of using my abilities without thought. One could call it instinct.”

As he said that, the door opened, admitting the same woman from before. Mia. She carried a silver tray, upon which sat a pair of delicate cups. After setting one in front of Elijah, she placed the other before Hui Shui. Elijah summoned his bottle of honey from his Arcane Loop, then poured the contents into the depressingly small cup. It took an awkwardly long time before he was satisfied, followed by a few more moments to stir the honey into the steaming liquid.

The second the coffee hit his tongue, he determined that the wait was worth it. It wasn’t as good as his grove-grown coffee, but he’d never expected it to be. It was different, though. The flavor was richer, but it lacked the bite of ethera coursing through it. Enjoyable but not beneficial.

“This is very good,” he remarked.

“Indeed,” Hui Shui said. “I confess that coffee is one of my few weaknesses. I do not drink excessively, smoke, or do drugs, but I am addicted to caffeine. The first year after the world’s transformation was particularly difficult for a coffee fiend.”

He grinned as he spoke. The gesture was meant to be welcoming. Perhaps humanizing. But Elijah saw it as predatory.

“I can sympathize. Thankfully, I can grow my own.”

“I’ve heard as much. The tales of your grove are quickly becoming legendary,” Hui Shui stated. “Fruits that can heal, soap that is a body cultivation tool, coffee that offers potent enhancements – the stories are endless.”

Elijah remained silent, though his muscles tensed.

“But that is not why you are here, certainly. What can I do for you?” Hui Shui asked.

Elijah relaxed, though only slightly. “I need a set of spires,” he answered, deciding the straightforward response was the best tactic. “Specifically, I want them just outside Philadelphia.”

“A set of spires already exists in that location.”

“I’m aware.”

“Then why…ah…I think I understand,” the man said with that same predatory smile that hinted that he knew far more than he let on. “Lamar Sims is your friend, is he not?”

Elijah nodded. “So is his wife, Helen.”

“And you wish to support them over the…other faction in Philadelphia.”

“I do,” Elijah said. It had been on his mind for a while. He not only wanted to support Lamar and Helen, but he felt that they would make a useful ally for Ironshore. After all, Philadelphia had access to four towers. That kind of leveling resource was invaluable, and it would go a long way toward supporting the growth of Ironshore’s forces.

And selfishly, the grove’s future defenders. The children still hadn’t reached the point of gaining their own classes, but that would happen sooner rather than later. When it did, they would need appropriate challenges if they wanted to reach their potential. The tower near the grove was a good start, but it would not take them all the way to a point where they could set foot in the Chimeric Forge.

But having access to other towers – like the one controlled by Lamar’s faction as well as the one outside Argos – would go a long way toward bridging that gap. And with Ironshore’s support, there was a good chance of adding three more towers to that total.

It was a valid alliance, irrespective of Elijah’s personal feelings on Lamar, Helen, and the faction opposing them.

Unfortunately, Hui Shui clearly wasn’t motivated by the grove’s or Ironshore’s well-being. “Spires are quite costly, both to build and maintain. I apologize, but there is no reason for us to take on such an expense. The Spires in Philadelphia are more than sufficient for the area’s needs.”

Elijah leaned back. “I guess I could just kill them all,” he sighed.

“What you do with your power is none of our business, Mr. Hart. If you bear a grudge with the Frozen Moon Clan, then so be it. We will neither support nor oppose your vendetta,” Hui Shui stated. “We endeavor to remain entirely neutral. Our only motivation is the well-being of the Conclave.”

For a moment, Elijah looked away. He truly could just go into Philadelphia and slaughter anyone who opposed his friends. However, the issue with that was two-fold. First was that Lamar and Helen would certainly disapprove of such an action. If they wanted war, then they would be at war.

But more importantly, Elijah didn’t want to be the guy who attacked every problem by slaughtering a city’s worth of people. He needed to be more than that. He needed restraint – at least until it was proven ineffective.

So, after a few seconds, he asked, “What if I gave up my discount?”

“Hmm. A start.”

“I will subsidize the Spires. Give me a number, and I’ll pay it.”

“We do not need ethereum, Mr. Hart.”

“Then what do you need?”

“Soap.”

“Huh?”

“We would like the same deal for your soap that the residents of Ironshore and Argos enjoy. Do that, give up your discount for teleportation, and we will build your Spires – provided you can direct us to a proper ley line. I suspect that will not be a problem for you, though.”

Elijah leaned forward. “I think I can work with that.”