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

At one point, Elijah considered body cultivation to be the least complicated of the four categories, and for good reason. That wasn’t to say that it was easy. Breaking down and rebuilding one’s body came with incredible agony, to the point where he’d allowed himself to believe that pain tolerance was the primary hurdle he’d need to clear.

So far, that had been true.

But pushing forward into the fifth stage changed everything.

The idea behind body cultivation hadn’t really changed very much since he’d subjected himself to the Shackle of Penance and advanced to the fourth stage. The basic premise remained the same. For most of the process, at least. However, the final – and most important – phase deviated significantly.

He couldn’t worry about that right now, though. Not with every leaf in his mind occupied by the pain of his body’s destruction.

Elijah refused to stop it.

So close to such a powerful source of ethera and corruption, his Mantle of Authority would be ripped to shreds in a matter of seconds. His only option was to guide the destruction according to his plans.

If he’d been of clearer mind, he might’ve chuckled at that characterization. It was less of a plan and more of a general direction driven by pure instinct. Even after studying a dozen different accounts of body cultivation, he could only nudge his instincts one way or the other. Whether that was because of his mostly unique situation or if that was the case with everyone’s cultivation journey, Elijah wasn’t certain. But at the end of the day, guides and mentorships could only go so far. At some point, a person needed to forge their own cultivation path.

Thankfully, Elijah had been doing that almost since the beginning.

With those thoughts dancing along the edges of his mind, he focused on guiding the corruption through each and every cell within his body. And to his surprise, he was far more resilient than his previous experiences had led him to expect. Outwardly, he was a mess. Corrupted blood poured from every orifice while great cysts grew, then burst, then grew again in a cycle of corruption and purgation.

And despite all that, he was still functional.

He could move.

He could breathe.

His heart continued to beat.

In short, he needed more.

With that simple thought dominating his mind, he pushed forward and laid his skeletal claw on the silver surface of the obelisk. Even without muscles or ligaments, he could move it.

The bones blackened immediately, and in seconds, his entire front leg looked like it had been charred. Tendrils of corruption wove throughout in a macabre mimicry of flesh.

Elijah rejected it.

And with a herculean effort, he placed his other claw on the surface. The combination of dense ethera and potently corrosive corruption melted his scales and flesh away. It sloughed off, hitting the ground with a wet sound Elijah couldn’t acknowledge. It dissolved a moment later.

Gritting his fangs, he pushed himself up the obelisk.

Elijah was capable of lifting more than a hundred tons – might he’d displayed on multiple occasions. And yet, driving his draconic body forward took every ounce of strength he possessed. Then, he activated Absolute Grasp and climbed.

One foot after another.

On multiple occasions, he blacked out from the sheer pain coursing through his body, but at some point, even that solace remained unavailable. Any time he started to dip into unconsciousness, a jolt of agony sent his heart racing. With adrenaline pumping through him, surrendering to sleep just wasn’t an option.

Thankfully, Absolute Grasp was unaffected, so he was in no danger of falling.

With every foot Elijah climbed, the corruption grew even stronger, and huge chunks of his body sloughed off. At some point, Elijah was forced to use his healing spells just to keep moving. He never looked down. Nor did he look up. He simply kept his eyes on the silver surface until he reached the pinnacle of the obelisk.

Only then did he tear his attention away from the pain and take stock of his situation.

And in doing so, he saw the true abyss.

In some ways, it looked like space. Though there were no stars. Nothing but endless blackness, broken up only by violet rivers of pure corruption.

There were monsters, too.

Huge masses of tentacles, wings, snapping jaws, and fangs. Without the benefit of perspective, Elijah couldn’t gauge their sizes, but if they were less than mountainous, he would have been surprised. And far in the distance, he saw one that looked no smaller than a moon.

Every single one of the creatures fought one another. Huge hunks of meat flew into space before being consumed. Smaller monsters darted in and out like schools of piranha, feasting on the aftermath of the ongoing battles.

Elijah’s heart stopped as a tentacle the size of a city whipped past the obelisk. It never came within a mile, but even then, Elijah was subjected to a dense shockwave of wind, corruption, and menacing power that very nearly tore him from the surface.

Even as Elijah clung to the obelisk, he’d never felt so small.

That feeling overwhelmed even the immense pain of having his body dissolved by the corrosive atmosphere.

He shook his head and tore his attention away. For whatever reason, the massive creatures gave the obelisk a wide berth. Maybe they were too focused on fighting one another. Or perhaps they simply didn’t see any reason to come closer. It didn’t matter.

Elijah had other things to focus on.

Like the ongoing destruction of his body.

With Soul of the Wild, he could sense the damage. His ribs were entirely exposed, and many of his organs had already burst. His branch-like wings had wilted down to nothing, and even his eyes had clouded over from the damage.

But at last, he’d found exactly what he needed to push himself forward.

He crawled over the lip at the top of the obelisk and slowly pushed himself to the center. Because of its slightly slanted sides, the peak was no wider than a hundred yards. However, crawling that distance was just as difficult and destructive as climbing the entire monument.

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Elijah barely reached it.

Then, he coiled himself into a circle, closed his eyes, and meditated. The destruction never stopped. The pain never ceased. But Elijah had already committed himself to the process he’d envisioned. He allowed the degradation. He permitted the corruption.

It was necessary.

Slowly, his body broke down to nothing more than a skeleton.

And then, just before he lost consciousness – for the last time, if he allowed it – he cast a spell.

Fat drops of rain fell upon his brittle skeleton, sending tiny pinpricks of vitality coursing through him. A sunflower, its petals as black as cold night, bloomed, pulsing with cleansing power. Amidst that relief, Elijah cast both Nature’s Bloom and Wild Resurgence.

At first, it only offered minor solace from his pain. But then, he added his Mantle of Authority to the mix.

Vaguely, Elijah was aware that the shape of a massive tree – glowing and only partially perceptible – bloomed into existence. It was his soul, unbroken by the corruption. The leaves of his mind waved in the nonexistent breeze while he wove his mantle through his body.

Gradually, the corruption in his skeleton dissolved under its influence. Only then did his healing spells begin to rebuild his flesh.

It should not have worked.

It wouldn’t have if he’d targeted another person. But the unique combination of his healing spells, his nature as a Druid, and his already massive attributes made it possible to rebuild what had been broken.

However, Elijah wasn’t satisfied with simple recovery. He didn’t want to go back to what he’d been. He needed to be better.

Throughout his climb, he’d dedicated an entire cluster of leaves to monitoring how the corruption attacked his cells. And as he funneled the vitality of his spells into each one, he hardened them against just such a force.

Hours. Days. Weeks. Elijah had no idea how much time had passed. What he did know was that when he was finally finished, his body was much stronger than it had ever been before. While he’d focused on durability – specifically against corruption – he’d also made each cell more powerful.

Yet, he knew he wasn’t finished.

Was it enough to progress to the next stage? Maybe. He didn’t think so, but it was possible. But Elijah had never been satisfied with good enough. He wanted perfection. And he had a plan.

So, once his body was back to pristine condition, he allowed his healing spells to dissipate. His Mantle of Authority fell away soon after, once again exposing him to the corrosion of the abyss.

After what felt like a brief moment of relief, the corrupted atmosphere fell upon him with renewed fury. He very nearly blacked out, but he maintained his consciousness long enough to regain the mindset that had seen him through so far.

And Elijah was surprised to find that he was much more resilient. The atmosphere still broke his body down, but far more slowly. As if it had a mind of its own, it attacked him even more viciously, and soon, the pace of the degradation exceeded the first cycle.

The pain skyrocketed as well.

Elijah endured it.

Even as the corruption scoured the meat from his bones, he forced himself to bear it. Eventually, he was right back where he’d started the first cycle – no more than a quickly dying skeleton. Only his innate vitality kept him alive, and that wouldn’t last for much longer.

Elijah let the corruption break him down until he was on the verge of death. Then, he deployed his mantle, cast his spells, and slowly rebuilt his body a second time.

In the distance, the monsters continued their eternal battle as Elijah began his third cycle. It went much the same as the previous two, with the abyssal atmosphere keeping pace with his new durability. This time, Elijah pushed himself even closer to death before finally giving himself some relief.

So it went for four more cycles.

Elijah could feel his body trying to advance to the next stage of cultivation. But he refused to allow it. He still had two more cycles to go.

His body was stronger than ever, but the abyss surged to match it. Meanwhile, his mind was entirely wrung out. He could barely remember to breathe, much less to think.

And yet, he kept going.

Because that was what he did.

That was who he was.

The abyss fell upon him as if it wanted to prove his entire plan was a mistake. That challenging the abyss and using it for cultivation was hubris of the worst sort.

Elijah couldn’t even muster the energy to scream in pain as his body dissolved. Instead, he silently endured, all the while, building a spell within his chest. For the hours – or days – it took for his body to breakdown, Elijah continued to channel, the power of the spell compounding with every passing moment.

Within minutes, it felt like his chest was going to burst.

An hour later, and the pain of holding it inside of him rivaled that of his body’s ongoing corrosion.

Two, and the force of the building spell threatened to rip him apart.

Meanwhile, the abyssal atmosphere did what it always did – destroyed. Dissolved. Corrupted. And consumed. Because that was its nature. It did battle against Elijah’s increased durability, and it won. Slowly. Surely. Inevitably.

His scales shattered. His flesh melted, liquifying before it dissolved completely. Then came his organs. Comparatively weaker, they didn’t last long. His bones were tougher, though.

Their dissolution started with pitting, but it quickly progressed as the corruption whittled them down to nothing. Normally, Elijah would have stopped the cycle, then and there. But this one was different. It had to be. So, he let it go for longer.

His consciousness began to fade.

The spell within him continued to press against his metaphysical limits.

And his bones became no thicker than toothpicks.

Finally, even as the darkness of death closed in on him, he released his spell.

It poured from his mouth in a tidal wave of pure vitality that wrapped around his destroyed body. The infusion sent a jolt through his mind, and he added Blessing of the Grove and Wild Resurgence to the mix. His Mantle of Authority arced out, and his body rebuilt itself.

As was the case with every other cycle, he guided the reformation at the cellular level. His body became stronger. More durable. And closer to his ultimate goal.

When he’d finished, he allowed himself to rest for a few moments before embarking on the ninth and final cycle.

He began the end.

By that point, pain had become a familiar companion. Elijah embraced it like an old friend. His core was wrung dry from the compounded cast of Nature’s Bloom, and he couldn’t afford to absorb any more ethera without filtering it through his Mantle of Authority. Nor could he simply wait. Not with his body screaming at him to allow it to progress into the next stage. He could only hold it off for so long, and then, only because the pain drowned out the urgency.

The choice was clear. Complete the cultivation process, then and there. Or continue forward toward his ultimate goal.

And Elijah was no quitter.

He plunged forward, knowing full well how dangerous it was. If his plan didn’t work, he would die.

But that was the nature of cultivation. There was no safe way to do it. Not properly, at least. If he wasn’t risking death, then he wasn’t doing it right. And that would rob him of potential.

Elijah could not stomach that.

Not after he’d been through so much. Not when he needed every advantage he could find if he wanted to escape the excised planet and find his way home.

Those thoughts pushed him forward, and the abyss pressed down on him more strongly than ever before. It enveloped him. Squeezed him. Destroyed him.

In the far distance, Elijah could see the monsters stirring. Just the smaller ones for now, but the pulsing vitality that came at the end of each cycle had attracted their attention.

He tried to ignore them.

But they did not ignore him.

A few sleek, tentacled monsters rushed in, ripping into his flesh with all the starving fervor of a pack of wild dogs. Elijah sprang into action. With flesh dripping from his skeleton, he fought. Tooth and claw met tentacle and fang.

And Elijah ripped them apart.

They kept coming, like sharks drawn to blood in the water.

Elijah fought even as his body degraded.

And in doing so, he realized how much stronger he had become. He’d gained no levels. He hadn’t even officially progressed his cultivation. And yet, he could express his might with so much more efficacy than before he’d begun his climb.

It wasn’t enough, though.

There were too many monsters. The abyss was too strong. And eventually, Elijah fell.

They descended upon him, consuming his disintegrating flesh and gnawing at his weakened bones.

Even so, it took some time before the darkness began to creep in. Elijah pushed it aside, focusing on the pain.

His body broke down even further.

Bones snapped, consumed by the monsters. Over and over, until there was nothing but a few grains of bone dust left.

That was when Elijah cast Shape of Spores.

There was no real transformation, save for a few remaining cells. At that moment, Elijah was nothing more than a quickly fading soul, a sputtering core, and a dissolving mind.

And yet, he could still feel himself become a fungal guardian.

More importantly, Mycelial Regrowth was now available.

He used it.

And his body exploded with dense vitality. That formed the backbone of his regeneration, but it was supported by a cast of Wild Resurgence and the spreading branches of his soul. Elijah felt himself rebuild, bit by bit. Cell by cell. Each iteration was stronger than the last.

The monsters choked on his spores, falling aside even as Elijah reformed.

Finally, when he stood atop that obelisk in the remade Shape of Spores, Elijah allowed his cultivation to complete. A dense, green crystal of pure vitality formed all around him, and at last, he felt peace.