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

Anupriya Pandey clutched the clay mug, savoring the scent of masala chai. It was bold, cloaked in the floral warmth of cardamom with a hint of cinnamon. The sharp, almost medicinal scent of cloves pierced through the more potent scent, accompanied by a tickle of black pepper. Ginger rose sharply, bright, biting, and invigorating, balanced by the sweetness of simmered milk and offset by the jaggery of brown sugar. It was a smell meant to fill a room with challenge surrounded by the comfort of nostalgia.

She sipped the tea, savoring the myriad flavors before turning back to her sketchbook, which contained a thousand tiny runes, each one meant for inscription into the bricks that would comprise the new wall. At one point, she’d fretted that she would never get the chance to build it, but now that the Third Army had been so soundly defeated, she knew that the time for expansion had arrived.

That knowledge was as comforting – and challenging – as the aroma filling her nose.

For only a few moments more, she worked on the amalgamation of glyphs. The design was yet unfinished, but she drew closer to completion by the day. Once she’d finalized the plan, she would pass it on to the Builders, Wardsmiths, and Arcane Engineers for implementation.

Once, she might have worked alongside them, shaping red sandstone bricks and inscribing them appropriately. However, those days had long since passed. Her role had shifted, and now, she was forced to account for the bigger picture. Such was the price of leadership.

That was what it meant to be the Citadel Sage of Kalki. The Architect behind the most impregnable fortress on Earth. There were no official rankings of such things, but after everything she’d been through, Anupriya did not hesitate to bestow that title upon her creation. Anyone who disagreed was welcome to put the city’s defenses to the test.

They would crash upon its walls and be repelled, learning the error of that decision. Just as every other enemy had. Even the Third Army had been incapable of breaching the city’s walls.

And oh, how they had tried. They had besieged Kalki for nearly a year before moving on to softer targets, only to recently return.

Anupriya drained the last of her tea and shut her sketchbook. Briefly, she ran her fingers along the leather cover. It had been a gift from her father, the mandala engraved and dyed by a Tibetan man who’d immigrated to Delhi. The concentric shapes were not only pleasing to the eye, but they were also mathematically significant. Perfectly spaced. Entirely symmetrical. Precise.

The design was meant to represent protection, cosmic order, and focus. When her father had gifted it to her, it was the perfect encapsulation of her chosen field of engineering. She’d cherished it then, and even more so after the world had changed three years later.

Especially so after she’d discovered her family’s fate.

So many had died, and even more had turned into monsters. By that point, she thought she had become numb to it all, but seeing her parents’ grave very nearly broke her. They had been buried with nearly a hundred others just outside the small town where she had been born. Her two brothers had perished six months before that, leaving only her little sister alive.

But poor Shrishti had been badly scarred by the entire affair. Not physically. In that way, she was healthy enough. The same could not be said for her psychological state. She’d not spoken since that fateful night, when bandits descended upon the settlement and killed more than half of its residents before being pushed back. Hiding beneath the floorboards, Shrishti had seen it all, and she had never recovered.

Anupriya pushed herself to her feet and said, “Come, Shrishti. There is a storm coming.”

Her little sister obeyed soundlessly, rising and following Anupriya inside. Most days, she didn’t move from that balcony, where she spent most of her time staring off into the distance. Whatever she saw, Anupriya wished it would give the girl some peace.

After handing her sister off to an attendant, she strode through the sitting room and into her private quarters, where she prepared herself for the coming meeting. In doing so, she discarded the long, cotton kurta, trimmed with subtle geometric patterns, and dragged her matching palazzos down her legs. As she did so, she tried to ignore the scars decorating her body.

Some were pale and faded, evidence of the days shortly after the world’s transformation. Others were newer, having been picked up in more recent battles. They all told a very simple story of hardship and deadly struggle. None were as impactful as the one on her throat, which she’d gotten only a year after the world’s transformation. Without the Healers, she would have died.

As she dressed in her traditional armor, her mind drifted to those first days. Back then, she’d been a third-year student at the India Institute of Technology in Delhi. An engineer with a bright future and a host of dreams. She’d imagined moving her parents somewhere more modern and giving her siblings a better chance at success by enrolling them in the best schools.

Yet, that never came to pass.

The night the world had changed, she’d been studying with a few friends in her hostel. Directly afterwards, they’d all been too frightened to act. At least until the city erupted into chaos.

If Anupriya had any inkling of what was coming, she would never have chosen to become a Scholar. However, she had been raised to revere learning, and what epitomized that ideal better than the Scholar? She chose it without questioning the other options. What would her life have been like if she’d picked the Healer archetype? Or if she had become a Sorcerer?

There was no way to tell, but she knew things would have been very different.

In any case, it wasn’t long before she was forced to fight. The first attack came not from monsters or beasts, but from people. In the wake of the world’s transformation, riots had erupted across the city. Such was expected when all utilities ceased to function. No communication. No cars. No electricity or running water.

It was chaos.

And there are always those who seek to take advantage of such situations. For those sorts of people – usually young men – there was no more enticing target than the Saraswati Hostel, which was the home of nearly three hundred young women.

The two security guards at the gate – Ravi and Sunil – tried to fight them off, but they fell so quickly that no one even knew what was happening until they were already being trampled.

That should have been the end of Anupriya’s story. Perhaps she would have survived, but if those men had gotten what they wanted, it would have broken her. She knew that down to her core. Fortunately, in the new world, the gap between genders – at least insofar as physical capabilities – was not nearly as wide. And some of the girls had chosen combat archetypes.

For her part, Anupriya didn’t hesitate to fight. She’d grabbed a fire axe and participated right alongside all the others. She had even gained a level in the melee. But more than that, the ordeal had cemented in her mind one simple fact – the world had changed, and unless they changed right along with it, they would not survive.

That realization pushed her to take charge. She was not the strongest among the young women, but that didn’t matter. They needed direction. Guidance. They needed someone to tell them what to do. Anupriya stepped into that role, and in doing so, likely kept them alive.

For the first few weeks after the world’s transformation, they fortified the hostel against intrusion. Those defenses were frequently put to the test, either by people – often desperate or violent – or some of the monstrous wildlife that came with the changes. Soon, it became clear that their safety could not last. Scavenging would only take them so far, and no one had come to help.

So, after their scouts identified potential allies in the Engineer and Signals Regiment only five miles away, Anupriya had led them on a quest to link up with the soldiers. She knew quite a few of them already – some were former classmates, after all – and she trusted them to not have fallen into chaos.

That first foray into Delhi was eye-opening. Collapsing buildings, piles of the dead, and burned-out husks of automobiles were the most obvious characteristics, but there was plenty of other evidence that the world had irrevocably changed. Anyone who hadn’t accepted that before the trek across town was forced by what they saw to accept the new paradigm.

Fortunately, the men in the Engineer and Signals Regiment welcomed them with open arms, and from there, they started the long quest to instill some sort of order. It was no easy task, especially because they were almost immediately forced to endure wave after wave of beasts intent on eating them alive, but they rose to the challenge.

It was during this time that Anupriya gained a class. Fortifier. It was a blend of an architect, engineer, and a sorcerer, and through her new abilities, she was the single most influential reason everyone survived.

Certainly, the others helped. Without the combatants, none of it would have mattered. And there were Tradesmen needed to build everything. However, Anupriya could say, without false modesty, that she was more important than all of them.

Her levels skyrocketed, not only because she routinely put her designs to the test, but also because she fought on the frontlines like everyone else. Nobody could sit the battles out. They needed every available hand to beat back the monster waves.

Later, she would learn that the monsters were mad beasts, driven to insanity by a cluster of rifts.

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Whatever the case, they were dangerous. And more than that, they were fuel for her rise to power. She rarely took breaks, and she established herself as a leader. Eventually, she and her people won the battle, and when the first power rankings emerged, she found herself in the top ten.

She’d never relinquished that spot.

That first year was full of nearly constant fighting, but Delhi’s survivors established multiple strongholds within the city. They battled one another almost as much as they did the monsters and beasts, but still, they survived well enough.

Anupriya, who’d taken a position at the head of her own stronghold, knew things would eventually devolve into war. If they stayed in Delhi, they would be sucked into it, too. So, she started plans to move.

By that point, their settlement had grown by no small degree. From a little less than a thousand people to more than ten thousand. And over the next year, while scouts charted the region and Anupriya finalized her plans for a new fortress – complete with how to construct it in stages – the situation in the city devolved into the war she had predicted.

Her people stayed out of it, but soon enough, they realized that they didn’t have a choice but to leave or join in. They chose to flee.

What followed was a harrowing journey through the jungle and to the eventual site of Kalki. Many died, but they also picked up even more refugees along the way. So, when they arrived, they had plenty of hands to facilitate the work. Thus, Kalki was founded.

Back then, it was nothing more than a sturdy keep, but in the years since, it had expanded dozens of times, incorporating new techniques, materials, and runes into its construction. Anupriya had grown with it, and some time after the Trial of Primacy – in which she did not personally participate – she finally ascended.

That was when she became the Citadel Sage.

It was in good time, too, because it wasn’t long after that when the Third Army had attacked. They never made any demands. They didn’t try to negotiate a peace. They simply attacked.

And Kalki held.

After a while, they retreated, but Anupriya knew they would return. So, she continued to build her defenses against that eventuality. Still, when they had arrived and begun to build siege weapons, she was more than a little trepidatious at Kalki’s chances of survival. They could defend against an attack, but a siege would break them. They would eventually run out of food, and that wasn’t even considering that a determined enemy could poison the underground spring that was their water supply.

No - things did not look good.

Right up until the beast-man showed up and destroyed the very army that had given her so many nightmares. The subject of those bad dreams had changed to a man who could transform into a multitude of powerful beasts and, in doing so, slaughter armies.

She had met him once before, but that meeting had been fraught with tension, even if he’d clearly had no intention of attacking. Now, she knew just how close to disaster she’d truly tread. Even unconscious, he’d been so dangerous that they’d been forced to shackle him, just so he wouldn’t inadvertently slaughter the people trying to help him.

Those thoughts accompanied her as she donned her uniform, which consisted of dark leather armor trimmed in oxidized gold, with a red sash that stretched across her chest. When she looked in the mirror, and she saw a warrior queen, dangerous and beautiful. The latter might be ruined if one saw the multitude of scars upon her body.

Completing the look was the tulwar she strapped to her waist. It was no mundane weapon, but as a non-combatant, she couldn’t use it as well as a true fighter. Attributes could only take her so far, after all.

Regardless, she had an image to convey. And she had been forced to personally defend herself often enough that there was no chance of her leaving her home without a weapon.

With that in mind, she said goodbye to her sister and left the citadel behind. A thousand ideas came to mind as she traversed the city. Some were based on efficiency, while others came from a desire to build even greater defenses. Already, they had begun work on a system to filter any toxins out of their water, and they’d recently excavated a cave where they hoped to foster a thriving mushroom farm.

However, those ideas remained on the backburner as she mentally prepared for the upcoming meeting. She pushed them out of mind altogether when she exited the North Gate to see the hill goblin encampment only a mile away. She had no quarrel with the nomadic people, and indeed, had even traded with many of their tribes. Rather, her anxiety came from the man in their midst.

On either side strode two of her most powerful Warriors. Vikram and Ishani Singh. Twins who’d been fighting together since the world’s transformation. Both were beautiful, tall, and strong. Perfect. And they were loyal, which was the most important factor, at least to Anupriya. The twins would lay down their lives for her, and without a moment’s hesitation. Powerful allies were easy to come by. Loyal ones were much more difficult to find.

They soon reached the hill goblin encampment, where they were greeted by Okarin, the High Speaker of the Leopard Tribe. Anupriya had met him years before, so she knew him to be kind and empathetic, as well as a stalwart ally.

She greeted him with a bow, saying, “We come in peace so that we may see another sunrise.”

“And with that sunrise will we be reborn to face a new day,” he completed the customary greeting. Then, he smiled. “Welcome to the camp, Anupriya Pandey.”

“Thank you. I wish to see your guest,” she said. “I must know his intentions, and the spoils of war must be divided.”

“I see. Come.”

With that, the hill goblin turned and headed into the camp. Anupriya followed, marveling at the simplicity of their lives. The tents were far from mundane, but they were not defensive in nature. Rather, they were built for comfort. The hill goblins’ survival hinged on their nomadic tendencies, rather than building fortresses.

The very idea was anathema to her philosophy, though she respected them for their hardiness. That they could persist in such a harsh environment, and with so many powerful enemies around, was a testament to the durability of their way of life.

Of course, all hill goblins were not nomadic. Many had attempted to integrate into other settlements, and some had even founded a city. Alabique had thrived, right up until the Third Army came around. Only one of ten residents had escaped, and that might have been a generous estimate.

Anupriya regretted the losses, and she wished the people of Alabique had taken her up on an offer of sanctuary. However, through either hubris or naivete, they refused to believe that their city would fall. They were wrong.

Soon, she and her escorts reached the center of the camp where they encountered the largest of all the tents. It was practically a palace compared to the others, though it was only a little larger than a shack. What it lacked in size, it made up for in enchantments and design. The exterior had been painted in bright and colorful designs that twisted in such a way as to boggle the eye.

Okarin held the flap aside and gestured for Anupriya to enter.

When she did, she was surprised to see the object of her fear sitting in the center of a pile of gray furs, shirtless and with his eyes closed. Her gaze settled upon his chest, which bore two striking features. The most tantalizing was the presence of scales. They looked almost like a tiger’s stripes, though they were colored a vivid and twinkling green. Like emeralds, though blazing with vitality no simple rock could possess. Those scales twisted from his chest, across his shoulders, and encircled his arms.

But Anupriya was more concerned with his scars.

One in particular looked grisly. It encircled his abdomen, disappearing around his waist. She knew as well as anyone just what sort of wounds resulted in those kinds of scars. And that wasn’t the only one, either. There were smaller marks across his entire torso, and one arm looked entirely puckered.

The implication was obvious. This was a man who had suffered greatly. She shuddered at the implication.

And then his eyes fluttered open. He said something, but Anupriya didn’t hear it. Instead, the whole of her focus latched onto his eyes. They did not glow, though in her mind – or perhaps her other, less definable senses – they seemed to. What’s more, they looked as if they belonged to a reptile, with vertically slit pupils that simply did not fit a human face.

They also conveyed power, and a sort she’d only ever felt from him.

A shudder went up her spine. She’d experienced his gaze before, but she had forgotten how it felt.

Almost.

“You should take a picture,” he said, his voice calm. Controlled. Almost jovial. “It’ll last longer.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Sorry,” he said, massaging the back of his neck. “My inner eighties movie popped out there. What’s up?”

Just then, another hill goblin entered the tent behind her. Venka. Anupriya wasn’t certain what position he held among his people, but he was clearly important. He also had power, though she struggled to pin down precisely how much.

“Hey man,” Hart said. “You know Miss Pandey, right?”

“We have met,” Venka stated. The hill goblin turned his own gaze on her, saying, “I’m told you came to settle accounts.”

“Oh, loot,” Hart said. “Anything good? Did I tell you about the tent I found a month or so ago? Maybe three months? I don’t know. But the thing was huge on the inside. Couldn’t figure out how to take it down, though. As far as I know, it’s just sitting there collecting dust in the middle of nowhere. It sucks, because I could really use a good tent. Not like this one, though. Too much fur and goblin stank. No offense, but you all do have a very distinct odor. My point is that I really need to go back and get that tent.”

Anupriya had no idea how to respond to that. Venka seemed to have expected it, so he just smiled and said, “I will have you know that we are quite proud of our…stank. It is the defining characteristic of hill goblins.”

Elijah smiled and shook his head. “To each his own, I guess. So? Loot?”

After that, Anupriya gave an account of everything they’d taken from the Third Army. By anyone’s measure, it was a fortune worth of gear. Weapons, armor, supplies – the list went on. But to her surprise, Hart said, “I’m not really interested in any of that. How about this? You contact my guy – Atticus Ariti in Argos – and he’ll assign a value to everything. Once we know what it’s worth, just send him my cut. He’ll make sure I get what I’m supposed to get.”

That wasn’t what Anupriya had expected, though in retrospect, she should have. He was just one man, and as such, he didn’t have much need for thousands of weapons or sets of armor.

“That works for us. Our people are already working on claiming what we want,” Venka said. “But you killed most of them, so we think it’s right that you get two-thirds of the spoils.”

“Forty percent,” Anupriya stated. “He would have perished had we not intervened.”

Contrary to Hart, or even the hill goblins, the people of Kalki could make great use of the spoils, and she had no intention of giving up any more than necessary. Regardless of how nightmarish her negotiating partner was.

In the end, they settled on Hart getting half, while Kalki would take thirty percent. The rest would go to the hill goblins – not because they didn’t deserve it, but because included in that was a treaty that would make them official allies of Kalki.

When the negotiations had concluded, Hart asked, “Why didn’t you ask New York for help? The Third Army was just as much a threat to them as they were to you.”

“We did. The guilds are self-serving to a fault. Likely, they believed us a buffer state between them and true danger. If we fell, they could still halt the advance of the Third Army in the Morello Pass,” she explained. What she didn’t say was that Ram Khandu had offered to send his guild to assist her, so long as she agreed to his courtship of her. After having met the slimy dandy, she had refused outright. She’d have rather died a thousand deaths than endure his presence.

“Ah. Yeah. I met them, so I can definitely see that. Too much politics, not enough action,” Hart said. “Seems to be a theme.”

Then, he abruptly stood, and Anupriya’s hand immediately went to the hilt of her tulwar.

“Calm down. Just figured we were done. I don’t have the luxury of wasting any more time. I have someone to hunt down,” Hart said. “In the meantime, talk to Atticus. I’m sure an alliance would be beneficial.”

Anupriya recognized a dismissal when she heard one, so she quickly said her goodbyes and left the tent. Once outside, she took a deep breath.

Vikram said, “Please don’t ask me to fight him.”

“What?”

“That guy. He’s…”

“Scary,” his sister provided.

Anupriya wanted to reprimand their admission of fear, but she chose not to. Because Elijah Hart was scary. Very, very scary. Never was that clearer than when, just as they were entering the North Gate of Kalki, Anupriya turned back to see a giant dragon-like creature ascend from the camp, then take off toward the jungle to the west.

“Very scary indeed.”