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

Elijah banked right, the tip of his wing skating only a few inches above the ground as he changed direction. Reoriented, he flapped his wings and pushed himself to top speed. Below and behind him, hundreds of monsters followed. None could catch him, and for the first time in the months since he’d arrived on the excised planet, he felt free. He felt powerful. He felt like he was in charge of his own destiny.

But he wasn’t.

Despite the victory that came with evolving the tent, his situation hadn’t appreciably changed. Certainly, survival seemed more likely than ever, but he couldn’t help but wonder to what end. After all, he was stranded on a desolate world in the middle of the abyss. There was no hope of rescue. No real expectation of escape. The hope he clung to – that he would find some means of returning to Earth – was slim enough as to be mostly imaginary.

He kept going, though.

Because he didn’t know what else to do. He could no more give up than he could simply stop breathing. Sure, surrender was possible, but not with his personality.

Eventually, he left the bulk of the monsters behind. Only a few maintained the chase, and Elijah kept just close enough that they wouldn’t abandon their pursuit. Finally, he judged that the creatures were isolated enough for the next part of his plan.

He snapped out his wings, the drag bringing him to an abrupt stop. The monsters kept going, skidding across the uneven terrain while trying to halt their own momentum. They tumbled over one another, never missing a chance to bite their fellows. By the time they managed to stop, Elijah had already transformed.

He fell upon them in the Shape of the Scourge, his talons, teeth, and tail flashing with potent venom. He moved like lightning, never stopping for longer than it took to graze his enemies. Each one stood at the peak of ascendency, and as a fast-moving pack hunters, they lacked the durability necessary to completely resist his venom.

Of course, things would have been quite different if they hadn’t found themselves subject to his Mantle of Authority, which not only attacked the corruption woven through their bodies, but also stymied the flow of ethera. If Elijah had to guess, it cut their power down by half, which made them easy prey.

Even as Ethereal Sepsis and Spreading Blight coursed through their veins, Elijah ripped through them like any other predator. Corrupted flesh parted before his teeth and claws, and black blood spilled across the ground.

He kept going until they were all dead.

The second the short battle ended, he stored the corpses in his Arcane Loop, then raced away under the effects of Guise of the Stalker. It was just in time, too, because he’d only made it half a mile before the rest of the predators reached the site of the battle. They collapsed onto the corpse of the lone monster he’d left behind, ripping it apart and consuming it with savage fury. As usual, that sparked a fight, and the survivors turned their attention to the other corrupted creatures.

The melee filled the air with bestial howls, hungry growls, and pained, all-too-human sounding screams.

Elijah ignored them as he raced away.

The form of the scourgedrake was fast, but it couldn’t compare to the Shape of the Sky. Because of that, it took Elijah nearly an entire day to return to the campsite. Despite trusting the tent’s new defenses, he was still relieved when he found the temporary structure untouched by corruption or monsters.

He skidded to a stop only a few dozen feet away, then took the time to inspect the campsite’s surroundings. As much as he wanted to believe the defenses were infallible, it just didn’t make sense to take it for granted. For all he knew, there were powerful, demi-god level monsters out there that would sunder those defenses without pause.

Or worse – wait in stealth until Elijah returned.

His inspection of the area went as expected. They’d camped in a glade among a forest of rocky pillars. Elijah found that sort of site far more comforting than camping on a flat plain, but that wasn’t to say it didn’t come with issues. Without open sightlines, he couldn’t see enemies coming.

Thankfully, his search turned up fruitless. There were no monsters waiting in the shadows. Just the ever-present corruption.

After confirming that nothing was going to attack, Elijah approached the tent and returned to his human form. Once he had, he ducked into the tent, only to find Benedict deep in the throes of meditation.

He chose not to disturb his companion.

Over the month since they’d managed to upgrade the tent, Benedict’s recovery had progressed very well. Unsatisfied with a return to normal, the man had devoted himself to three endeavors. Two, if recovery wasn’t included. The first was simple enough – he insisted on accompanying Elijah on most hunting expeditions. The latest was an exception, largely because it was so dangerous, but he’d spent quite a lot of time honing his fighting ability and earning experience.

Even if they couldn’t progress to the demi-god stage, a few extra levels could spell the difference between death and survival. And Benedict was deep in the doldrums of the First Wall, so he would need quite a lot of experience if he expected to reach his potential.

But most of his time remained dedicated to cultivation.

Elijah had given him quite a few tips, especially when it came to his soul. Benedict believed he could develop his own Mantle of Authority, so long as he remained dedicated enough to the pursuit. Even before the foray into the Labyrinth of Dead Gods, he’d progressed to the second grade, so for all Elijah knew, he might manage to reach his goal.

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He didn’t think so, largely because Elijah’s situation was so unique. Not only had he overextended his soul to the point where the system – or maybe even the World Tree itself – had been forced to step in, but he’d also dedicated one of his specializations to Connection.

On top of that, Elijah’s attunement did a lot of heavy lifting when it came to cultivation.

Despite his belief that the pursuit would only end in disappointment, he hoped Benedict could manage it, if only so he could regain some semblance of independence. It must have been very difficult for him to live at Elijah’s whim. After all, he couldn’t even leave the tent without the Mantle of Authority providing shelter against the corruption.

After a few seconds, Benedict’s eyes fluttered open. “Success?”

Elijah nodded. “I’m going to clean them outside. I just needed a few minutes to recenter myself.”

Benedict didn’t respond. Instead, he just closed his eyes and continued his efforts at meditation. Meanwhile, Elijah deactivated his Mantle of Authority. When the boughs of his soul retracted, he couldn’t help but let out an audible sigh of relief. The ability to rest had proven to be even more important than he could have imagined.

It wasn’t until he’d experienced it that first time that he’d realized just how much pain he’d been in. In retrospect, he struggled to understand how he’d managed to keep his Mantle going for so long.

It reminded him a little of long-distance running. Before the world’s transformation, at least. Back then, it was much easier to continue putting one foot in front of the other, especially when he’d reached the end of his endurance. Comparatively, it was almost impossible to restart after stopping.

So it had been with the mantle, and it had taken him nearly a week to reach a point where he could comfortably deploy it. Even then, it scorched his soul, leaving him in much more obvious pain. It still hurt, too. Not as much. Instead of a searing agony, it was more of a low burn.

But it was the only reason they had a chance of survival, so Elijah had committed himself to ignoring it. However, that wasn’t to say that he’d not taken steps to mitigate the damage. Mostly, the strategy consisted of simple scheduling, with plenty of breaks. But he’d also begun to experiment with spellcraft in the hopes of pushing his healing spells toward soul healing.

So far, he’d been unsuccessful, but now that he’d had some time to digest the lessons he’d imperfectly learned in the Labyrinth of Dead Gods, he could put them into practice. His understanding was far from complete, but he felt that with enough experimentation, he could reach his goals.

In that effort, Benedict was a great help. Much of his expertise still remained in the area of ritual circles, but he’d proven himself much more adept at spellcasting than Elijah could ever be. And Elijah wasn’t shy about using him as a resource.

Thankfully, Benedict had no issues with sharing his knowledge.

It would take some time, but Elijah had reason to hope for success. After all, what did they have if not time?

With that in mind, Elijah focused on repairing his own wounded soul, which he imagined was covered in internal burns that would one day scar over. Not literally, of course. But that was the only way he’d managed to visualize what was going on.

For the next few hours, he devoted himself to the task, but eventually, he was forced to stop. Not by failure or success, but rather, because he still had a lot of work to do. So, after informing Benedict of what he was doing, he once again exited the tent. This time, he didn’t intend to go far. In fact, he stopped only a few feet from the entrance, where he remained under the influence of the tent’s outer defenses.

They weren’t as powerful as inside, but they would suffice to keep his next task concealed from local monsters.

Without further ado, he retrieved one of the corpses from his Arcane Loop. As he plopped it onto the ground, he couldn’t help but look upon it with some degree of disgust. The thing appeared as nothing familiar. Tentacles, a multitude of legs, and a trio of heads gave it an entirely alien appearance.

It was also quite large, though. At least seven feet long and with meaty haunches, it would hopefully give Elijah exactly what he needed.

But first, he extended his Mantle of Authority, focusing on destroying corruption and healing in the aftermath. The effect was immediate. Viscous corruption seeped from the creature’s pores, too thick to completely eradicate. Instead, Elijah concentrated on removing it from the carcass.

Over the next few minutes, he repeated that process, and gradually, it was cleansed. Eventually, only normal meat remained. It definitely didn’t look appetizing – and from experience, Elijah knew it wouldn’t be – but it was no longer toxic. And given their dwindling supplies, eating it was the only way they would survive.

After a few more hours, Elijah had six such corpses arrayed before him. Each one had been cleansed, which left only mundane dressing before the meat was ready.

Thankfully, Elijah had a long history of hunting, and both his instincts and training as a biologist assisted him in processing the unfamiliar creatures. They resembled nothing from Earth, but at least their innards were similar enough that he knew what was edible and what wasn’t.

Still, it took quite some time before Elijah managed to complete his task. When he had, he’d gained more than a thousand pounds of meat for his trouble. After he stored the results in his Arcane Loop, he spent quite a while cleaning himself. With the assistance of his Mantle of Authority and Blessing of the Grove, he managed a passable shower.

However, he was very much aware that his store of soap was just as finite as his other supplies. And the idea of using fat from the local creatures – even cleansed – was a non-starter.

So, he used his remaining soap sparingly, relying more on vigorous scrubbing and plenty of summoned water to fill in the gaps.

When he was done, he retrieved Benedict’s hot plate and his skillet and began the process of frying some monster steaks. The smell of that cooking meat was anything but pleasant. It smelled like it had begun to rot, that pungent aroma laced with something almost citrusy. Like someone had tried to cover the smell of an open sewer with a drum of lemon-flavored cleaning solution.

To put it mildly, it made the prospect of eating that meat unappetizing.

But Elijah had already verified that it was entirely safe. And what’s more, it was packed with ethera, which meant that it would be more satisfying than any mundane meal. Not as powerfully energetic as something like Elijah’s grove fruits, but still much better than his dwindling store of chef-prepared meals.

Once he’d fried the meat to a crisp, Elijah carried it inside and set Benedict’s portion before him.

The man’s nose wrinkled.

“You’re welcome to cook it yourself next time,” Elijah said.

“I’ve never been much of a cook.”

“Then don’t turn your nose up.”

“It doesn’t smell right.”

“It’s fine. It will keep us going. Just eat.”

Benedict looked at it with no small degree of dubiousness, but in the end, he ate the meat. The first bite elicited a near gag, but he choked it down without further complaint.

For his part, Elijah consumed the meal with more outward stoicism. It was a façade, because the taste made him want to vomit. He had difficulty categorizing it, except to say that it was foul.

But as he’d said, it would do what it was meant to do, which was to keep them going. It wasn’t about having a pleasant meal. It was about survival.

Elijah kept telling himself that over and over until he’d managed to eat the whole steak. Still, in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder if even survival was worth eating that abominable meat.