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

The state of the city immediately on the other side of the wall was predictable in its utilitarianism. Warehouses and transport companies made up the bulk of the buildings, but there were plenty of other businesses catering to their needs, which give the area some variety. Everything from cheap restaurants to leatherworks dotted the area, and with everything in between.

Elijah found it comforting.

The skyscrapers were located near the city’s center, so the architecture near the wall resembled the city he’d come to know so well. But something had been lost in the past three decades. Some ephemeral quality that marked Argos as a small and intimate city.

Elijah regretted that loss.

After the guard had gone to fetch her supervisor, Elijah’s entry into the city had soon followed. However, Elijah suspected that they’d sent word of his arrival ahead of him. It wouldn’t be long before everyone of consequence knew he’d come back.

Of course, no one had hidden the news of his return. Likely, anyone who was anyone already knew he’d come back. But knowing that and having him enter the city were two very different things.

Elijah felt eyes on him within the first couple of minutes. Not that he cared overly much about being watched. So long as they didn’t attack him, he wouldn’t make them pay for it. Instead, he strode along the street – which was made of paved squares – like any other tourist.

When he passed into a residential district, he felt like he’d finally come home. It seemed that Argos had made at least some effort to preserve its history, because the area looked all but identical to the old version of the city. The buildings were only a few stories tall and lined with broad balconies where old women sat and gossiped about everything they saw. Ivy decorated most walls, and the subtle scent of fresh produce and spices filled the air.

Elijah couldn’t help but smile in relief as he took it all in.

Some things would hopefully never change.

However, there were some indicators of the passage of time. The old businesses from before the world’s transformation were now completely gone. No more strip mall-esque buildings or plastic signs. Everything looked like it had been returned to a less modern state, though a single glance told him that impression was just a façade.

Every building he saw was equipped with modern, ethera-powered amenities. Climate control. Electricity. Runic protections.

That, more than anything else, was evidence of Argos’ wealth.

Even Ironshore couldn’t boast such characteristics. Not regarding every structure, at least.

For a while, Elijah wandered aimlessly. He told himself he just wasn’t in a hurry. That Olaf Bruener and his warband had existed for years and that it didn’t matter if he took a few hours to enjoy the city. But Elijah knew he was just procrastinating.

Not with the attack itself. Rather, with the upcoming meeting. Or what would inevitably follow.

He stopped at a street vendor’s stall and bought a gyro stuffed with fresh lamb, tomatoes, and red onions topped with tangy tzatziki. The moment he bit into it, the taste took him back to his first few visits to Argos. There just wasn’t anything quite like a genuine Greek gyro.

It was so good that he bought a dozen just like it, which he stored away in his Arcane Loop. The vendor offered him a bulk discount, but Elijah insisted on paying full price. After all, a good cook should always be well rewarded. Otherwise, they might find a more lucrative means of making a living, which Elijah regarded as a potential tragedy, to be avoided at all costs.

The world needed good food.

That was one of the things missing from a place like Gorveth. Sure, they could cleanse corrupted meat and make it edible, but he’d managed to fool himself into believing it was actually good. They’d made some strides once they’d moved into his terraformed territory, but their inexperience working with proper ingredients definitely limited their abilities.

There was no such deficiency on Earth, where even a street vendor could create something truly spectacular. That realization brought to mind a hundred other little things Gorveth had lacked. Their culture was entirely stagnant, which was more than evidenced by the fact that they’d yet to iterate on their runic designs, architecture, or anything else. Even after thousands of years, they’d made very little progress. Or as was the case with architecture, they’d backslid.

To Elijah, it was obvious what was missing. The root of the problem was that Gorveth had, until recently, been entirely devoid of hope. Deep down, everyone knew their people were doomed. Perhaps it would take a few hundred more years, but eventually, the abyss would claim their planet in its entirety.

Earth had no such problems. Innovation was the expectation. Humanity would always move forward, so long as there remained a path to do so.

That was comforting but also terrifying. What would Earth look like in a thousand years? Ten thousand? There were civilizations in the multi-verse that had existed for millions of years. If Earth ever reached that point, they would be entirely changed.

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Maybe even for the better.

Those thoughts accompanied Elijah as he continued on, just enjoying the city’s atmosphere until, at last, he reached his destination. Along the way, he’d asked directions to Atticus shop, and he’d received a look of confusion in the wake of the question. As if he’d asked if water was wet.

Still, he had received the directions he needed.

When he arrived, he saw why the passerby had been so dumbfounded. Atticus’ shop – called Agora – had changed considerably. It wasn’t just one building, but rather, a cluster of structures surrounding the city’s largest skyscraper. The buildings were all works of art, as befit a man at the head of such a powerful consortium of Tradesmen. Every surface was covered by a dense collection of runes and sculptures. Some of the latter depicted humans in various heroic poses. Others were geometric designs that reminded Elijah of art deco principles. And still others were artistic whorls, disconnected from everything else.

The end result should have been a chaotic mess.

And yet, it all fit together in a way reminiscent of intricate ornamentation he’d seen decorating Indian temples.

The entryway was no less overwhelming. Flanked by a pair of massive pillars, the front door extended to the second story, and when Elijah pushed through, he found himself confronted by a mosaic floor, domed ceilings decorated by masterworks of art, and a crowd of people perusing the many display cases arrayed throughout the massive, department-store sized space.

A tinkle of music accompanied the din of conversation that inevitably came from any crowd.

Elijah was more interested in the dense vitality, ethera, and sense of belonging that hung in the atmosphere.

A beautiful woman stepped out of the crowd to greet him.

She was dark skinned, her curly hair tinged with a hint of red, with a lithe body covered by a thin, linen dress. Her feet were clad in laced sandals that contributed to her look.

She bowed.

“Welcome back to Earth, Mr. Hart. Mr. Ariti is eager to see you,” she said. “I am Amahle, and I am at your service.”

Only then did Elijah feel that someone was watching him. It felt like a phantom itch between his shoulder blades, but very, very real. Moreover, it didn’t take Elijah long to recognize the source.

Atticus was watching him via the domain associated with his premises.

Why he hadn’t come to greet Elijah himself was a mystery, but he chose not to make a big deal out of it. Instead, he gave Amahle a smile and said, “Well, since you know why I’m here, lead the way.”

She favored him with a smile of her own, and Elijah was quickly reminded of just how long it had been since he’d enjoyed the company of a woman. There had been opportunities back in M’yakein, and plenty of them. Those people practically worshipped him – which was the problem. The power dynamic was so lopsided that the very idea of taking advantage of those offers made him feel like a predator.

There was something similar at play with Amahle, though she hid it much more easily. Almost to the point where Elijah thought her interest was genuine.

But he was old enough to know better.

“Follow me, then,” she said, her voice like honey. “Unless you wish to go somewhere more private?”

“I’ll have to pass.”

She didn’t react to that, and instead, led him through what amounted to a show room. Some of the items on display were truly powerful, but that wasn’t unexpected. Atticus wouldn’t display junk in this building. Instead, the idea was probably to impress any visitors with his wealth and the quality of his wares.

The people were clearly the sort that would be attracted to that kind of thing. They weren’t overly powerful – some high ascendents were the strongest, as far as Elijah could tell – but their various outfits dripped wealth from every fold. And that wasn’t even considering their jewelry.

Elijah was not impressed.

He got plenty of glances as he followed Amahle through the show room and to an elevator at the back. It was a gaudy thing of gold and silver, its construction clearly meant to draw the eye. The message was clear – riding in that elevator required a certain level of status.

The doors opened as they approached.

Elijah stepped inside, his all-but-bare feet slapping against the cold surface. Only when he caught sight of his reflection in the closing doors did he realize just how odd it must have looked. His clothes were clean. New and in perfect condition. However, they were anything but flashy. Just simply woven fabric made from plants grown within the grove. They didn’t even fit all that well because he didn’t want to impose upon the Tailors to make something new.

But it was his hair and beard that really sold his lack of status.

“I just realized that I look like the mudery-est of murder hobos,” he sighed. “I didn’t even think about that.”

“It is no problem,” Amahle stated with another hint of a smile. “You should see some of our other clients. Only a week ago, we had a brute of a man show up in still-bloody armor.”

“Why?”

“He wanted to get his items appraised right away. Of course, we accommodated the request.”

“Of course,” Elijah deadpanned. “Reputation to maintain, right?”

“A person’s appearance is rarely a good gauge of their worth,” she said, almost as if reciting from a manual. Perhaps she was. Elijah wouldn’t have put it past Atticus to put expected behaviors down in writing.

Still, Elijah agreed, “Almost never.”

Just as the elevator came to a stop, Amahle stepped a bit closer and said, “The offer stands. When you finish with Mr. Ariti, come find me.”

Elijah was a bit taken aback, but he still managed to say, “I just may.”

The doors opened to reveal an expansive foyer decorated even more expensively than the first floor. Elijah recognized his friend’s touch.

More importantly, the man himself was waiting in front of a statue Elijah recognized from his very first visit to Argos. Heracles in all his glory. It was just a copy of the Franese Heracles statue, but it was still an impressive piece of art.

Elijah couldn’t ignore the similarities between the man depicted in the statue and the one standing before it.

Like everyone else, Atticus had changed quite a bit in the past thirty years. His face was still the same. Hawk-nosed and framed by black, curly hair and a bushy beard. However, his body had been transformed, and not by cultivation.

When Elijah had first met Atticus, his friend had been tall and thin. But over the next ten years, his wealth and prosperity had gone straight to his belly. That lasted until his marriage just before Elijah’s disappearance. And it seemed that his wife, Selene, had kept up the pressure. Now, Atticus had the body of a power lifter. Lots of heavy muscle, but the evidence of his love of good food and alcohol came via a layer of fat and a keg-like belly.

Still, he looked healthy enough.

And he was obviously elated to see Elijah.

A broad grin decorated his tan face as he stepped forward and wrapped Elijah in a massive bear hug. “I knew you were alive. All this time, I knew you would return, my friend.”

The hug lasted long enough to feel awkward, made even more so by the fact that Atticus had tears of happiness flowing down his cheeks. When he released Elijah, he held him at arm’s length and said, “You must tell me everything.”