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

“What is it?” asked one of the men in the back of the formation, his voice laced with trembling fear.

“What did it do?” asked another.

“It doesn’t feel corrupted.”

On and on they went as the creature planted itself at the center of the Arbor Crown. Behind him, the tainted Branch glittered, black veins pulsing with barely contained malevolence.

“Silence,” commanded Okani, commander of the Keepers of the Bough. They were the martial force dedicated to protecting the Branch, the Arbor Crown, and the Hollow Voice. They had already failed in those endeavors. Ko’rien was dead, her body discovered only minutes ago. And the Arbor Crown had been infiltrated by this…thing.

It stood as tall as a man, with two arms, two legs, and a generally humanoid body. However, that was where the similarities between it and humanity ended. Its grey-white scales reflected none of the ambient light. Only the pulsing red illumination provided by the embers clinging to its shoulders and back.

A diffuse cloak of ash and black smoke fluttered in the nonexistent wind, sending sparks of fire drifting through the atmosphere.

Its face was impassive. Emotionless. Okani had never seen an uncorrupted animal, so he only had a little context for the appearance of a reptile. However, he’d seen enough illustrations to recognize the characteristics for what they were. Yet, there was something in the eyes that told him this was no mere beast.

It didn’t move, but there was a world of potential within its body. The universe shimmered at its very existence. And yet, Okani’s Analyze ability told him that it was no more than an ascendent.

As a demi-god, he should not have been afraid.

And he wasn’t.

He kept telling himself that as his fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. His white knuckles and the sheen of perspiration clinging to his forehead said something entirely different.

Then, the creature spoke.

“I’m not here to fight. I got what I wanted,” it stated, its voice echoing through the Arbor Crown. The Keepers of the Bough held firm.

“Was it you?” asked Okani, stepping forward. His brown-and-white armor shimmered with power. His sword begged to be unsheathed, just as his core churned with expectation.

“You need to be more specific.”

“The Hollow Voice is dead,” Okani growled. He already knew the answer to his questions, but he needed to hear the confirmation aloud. Seeing Ko’rien’s body had been a massive shock to his entire belief system. She’d always been there, just like all the other members of the Synod. He’d believed her eternal. A god by right, and one who would eventually lead her people to salvation.

The Synod members weren’t the only demi-gods in Ithalon. There were nearly a hundred others in the city who could make the claim to that stage of progression. And yet, they were still the most powerful people in the city. In the world. It was only a matter of time before they reached the deity level.

And when they did, everyone would be saved.

It was that fundamental belief that kept Ithalon from descending into chaos. But it required everyone to work toward the common good. Without the support of the less powerful, the city would fall. Without the protection provided by those at the top, Ithalon would be overrun.

It was symbiotic.

Ko’rien’s death threatened to tear it all apart. Everyone in the city had felt it. They knew that a member of the Synod was gone. Did it matter that someone else – another Envoy – would step up to take stewardship over the Branch? No. Not to the masses. Not to those people who clung to such a slim sliver of hope.

The riots would go on for days, Okani was certain.

But he couldn’t concern himself with any of that. Not so long as the creature still stood.

“Why did you do it?” asked Okani, taking the thing’s silence for an admission of guilt.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

Perhaps that was true. Maybe the creature had its reasons. But it just didn’t matter. Okani moved, his ethera surging into Speed of the Branch. Tiles cracked as he unleashed the full breadth of his enhanced attributes. The sword hissed as it came free of its scabbard, the draw turning into a backhanded swing that should have cut the creature in half.

Okani’s attack caught nothing but air.

A lesser fighter might’ve been thrown off-balance by the miss, but he was a demi-god. His path to become a Keeper of the Bough had begun more than a century ago, and he’d spent hours each day working to forge himself into a Warrior befitting his station. So, he corralled his momentum, pivoted on his heel, and –

Suddenly, he found himself skipping backward across the pavilion. He didn’t stop until he hammered into one of the columns. The air filled with the sound of wrenching metal as the impact sent a spiderweb of cracks spreading across the pillar’s surface. His sword clattered to the tile floor.

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He blinked.

He shook his head, clearing the concussion.

Okani had never even seen the creature move. In fact, it remained exactly where it had been when he’d begun his attack.

“W-what…”

The rest of the Keepers charged. Okani saw rage – and no small degree of fear – etched upon their faces as they collapsed onto the creature. He understood it. He felt it himself. But as their screams of anger turned to those of pain, he knew the truth.

They were there to fight a battle they could not win.

Yet, honor demanded that they attack. With that in mind, Okani embraced his skills and joined his people in their hopeless attempt to slay the monster.

* * *

Bones shattered beneath Elijah’s every blow.

It felt as if the Keepers of the Bough moved in slow-motion, and not just because of the enhanced reaction speed that came with Shape of Embers. He’d fought a few times since advancing to the silver stage of body cultivation, but only sparingly. Before, he’d barely gotten a glimpse of the transformation he’d undergone, but now, it felt like he stood on an entirely different stage.

Even the leader couldn’t keep up with him.

He ducked, and a sword shimmering with ethera passed above his head. It burned so hot that, in the past, it might have blistered his ashen skin. Now, he barely felt it. He countered the attack with a stomp that pulverized his opponent’s foot.

The woman screamed.

Elijah ignored it, stepping close to another enemy as he parried the man’s thrust. His other hand snapped out, ramming into the foe’s stomach. Muscles tore, and organs ruptured beneath the blow. The man folded over, and Elijah slammed his elbow into the base of his skull.

The bone turned to dust, and his brain was destroyed. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Someone went low with a sweeping spear strike meant to knock Elijah from his feet. He sprang into the air, flipping over before landing upon an attacker’s shoulders. Without hesitation, he reached down, took a good grip of the man’s head, and twisted.

The neck didn’t just break. Instead, the attacker’s entire head came free in a shower of gore. Even as the body staggered and began to fall, Elijah threw the detached head at another one of the Keepers of the Bough. The woman blanched, her eyes wide in terror and surprise.

The impromptu projectile did no damage when it hit her, but it was a great distraction. By the time the Keeper recovered from her brief moment of shock, she found Elijah on top of her. His strike came like lightning, and upon impact, he felt her jaw shatter. More, his claws dug into her flesh, and when he continued the attack’s trajectory, her face came free.

It was a bit much, even for Elijah, who’d long grown used to such gore.

Over the next few moments, Elijah became more accustomed to his newfound strength and speed. His attacks became more focused, and his technique grew less sloppy. Within thirty seconds of that first attack, a full third of the Keepers were down – dead or dying. Within twenty more, that number crept up to half.

And after only a couple of minutes, he found himself once again facing off with the leader. The man was battered, his armor dented and broken. He moved with a distinct limp, and half his face had been so thoroughly broken as to render it unrecognizable.

But his stance was stable.

His grip on his sword was strong.

“Remember – you attacked me. I just wanted to leave,” Elijah said, feeling the power of his Seed of Ashes roiling within him. Despite being ready to unleash it via Flames of Renewal or Herald of Regrowth, he’d not needed it. In fact, he’d not used any of his active abilities, instead relying only on the power of his body and the swirling power of the Cloak of Embers.

And despite the fact that the man before him was a low demi-god, Elijah knew that would remain the case.

The Keeper didn’t articulate a response. Instead, he let loose a pained growl and darted toward Elijah. His sword erupted with green ethera, and it twisted around the blade like lightning. When he swung, that arcing energy exploded in every direction.

Elijah saw it coming.

He leaped, twisting his body like a serpent to avoid those dense tendrils of power. The air scorched along their path, filling the air with residual energy and the smell of ozone.

But with the benefit of his silver-tier body, combined with the attribute bonuses and the enhanced reflexes that came with Shape of Embers, Elijah managed to avoid each and every flash of energy.

He landed on the other side of the Ithalonian demi-god.

A single punch tore through the air. The speed of it left a comet’s tail of echoing ripples before it slammed into the small of the man’s back.

Metal crunched.

Bone shattered.

And from the waist down, the Keeper went entirely limp.

Before Elijah could go in for the kill, he felt something behind him. He dove forward in a roll, barely managing to dodge the oncoming attack. However, he could not avoid the blistering heat that came with it.

A dense column of the purest flame swept through the area he’d just vacated. It boiled the air and melted the columns. Tiles turned to a molten slurry, and the leader of the Keepers of the Bough burned.

Only the Branch remained untouched by the heat.

That cataclysmic flame only lasted a second before it winked out, and when Elijah regained his feet, he saw an apocalyptic landscape of heat and molten rock. In the center stood a blackened figure.

And it was one Elijah recognized.

Once, he’d visited a ruined city, the outskirts of which was populated by thousands of ashen people. Upon first sight, he’d taken them to be statues, but it wasn’t long before he discovered the truth – they were people. Now, he saw something similar in the center of that devastation.

A stray wind scattered the ashen form of the Keeper to reveal a truly impressive figure.

He was a man. Tall, lean, and clad in red armor. His beard swirled like flame, and his eyes burned with the heat of an active volcano.

He pointed a sword, its wide, jagged blade seeming to have formed from molten rock, at Elijah.

“Villain,” he growled, his voice booming across the plaza. Behind Elijah, the Branch of the World Tree trembled, filling the air with a high-pitched scream. But it remained intact.

“Funny,” Elijah said, pushing himself upright. “I was going to say the same thing.”

“Soon, you will say nothing at all.”

Power gathered. Fire roiled, spinning around the newcomer’s limbs. Nearby, molten stone boiled.

“She was a gentle soul. A good person. And a servant of Ithalon,” he breathed, his every word laced with grief, power, and crackling fire. “She deserved better.”

For a second, Elijah felt guilty. Killing Ko’rien had not been a snap decision. He’d considered other alternatives. But in the end, he’d accepted it as necessity. And besides, she was one of the city’s oppressors. The knowledge of what he’d seen in Ithalon – the virtual slavery, the stratified class structure, and the suffering – was enough to banish any guilt that might have taken root.

And besides, he’d had no choice. Accessing the Branch would have never been possible had she been allowed to live.

Still, Elijah wanted to defend himself. To point all those things out. However, the fiery demi-god never gave him the chance.

The flames surged, and Elijah reacted.

There was no dodging. He could not avoid the wave of fire coming toward him. So, he countered it the only way he could – with fire of his own.

He embraced Flames of Renewal, spending all two hundred charges he’d accumulated within his Seed of Ashes. Just as the fire ignited, the enemy flames swept over him.