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

The waves of the Restless Sea crashed against the Edge of the World, spraying caustic mist across the barren terrain. Above, rivers of violet corruption cut across the dark, featureless sky, casting the entire rocky landscape in a purple tint. Nearby, the brave men and women of the Emerald Guard fought a tumorous monster comprised of pulsing cysts and too many tentacles to count.

Vhalor paid them no mind.

Instead, his attention remained on the sea as he asked, “Are we certain?”

“Yes, blessed one,” answered the obsequious lackey. The woman cringed as she spoke, wringing her hands with obvious anxiety. Even a mortal would have shown more spine, and she was a late ascendent. A non-combatant, certainly, and one who’d only left Ithalon once in her entire life, but still powerful enough not to soil herself at the first sight of a monster.

Via Warrior’s Awareness, he sensed the battle – such as it was – winding down. Despite its size, the monster was no demi-god. As such, it should not have been a difficult opponent to defeat. However, the army still struggled to put it down. Proof that the standards had fallen off an even steeper cliff than the Edge of the World.

Vhalor had known about the falling quality of his army, and for years. But his own pursuit of progression had blinded him to the obviousness of the city’s situation. He’d allowed them too much freedom. He had given them too much agency to choose their own paths.

And now, they’d all paid the price for his distraction.

Ko’rien was now dead. Ithalon was in shambles, and the seeds of rebellion had been planted. The rest of the Synod wouldn’t allow it to grow to fruition. After all, they’d faced nearly a dozen such rebellions over the years. But this one felt different, largely because the fight had already claimed one of their own.

Ko’rien had never been a particularly powerful woman, but her connection to the World Tree had guaranteed her a place of prominence. Without a demi-god’s protection, the Branch was vulnerable. The new Envoy would take decades to reach her level, and even then, her evolved class would be tainted by the corruption.

It progressed more and more each day, a reminder that everyone on Gorveth was living on borrowed time. Even if it took centuries for the Branch to fully succumb, that future was written. Their only hope lay in escape.

And to do that, Vhalor needed to advance. He needed to become a deity.

He had long since reached the appropriate level, and he’d compiled enough of a Legacy to give him at least one option. The same could not be said for the rest of the Synod, who, despite reaching the point where they should’ve already advanced, had been provided no opportunity by the Branch.

Vhalor had always been different from the others. Better, and in every way. His cultivation was more advanced, his ascended and demi-god classes rarer. He had even ventured out into the corrupted wilderness alone, and he’d spent years fighting for his very life against monsters that would have killed most of the other members of the Synod with barely a cross look.

And yet, he remained a demi-god.

As the army finished the monster off, Vhalor glanced at his lone option to advance. It was always there, hovering just at the edge of his awareness. Taunting him with its power. One simple acknowledgement, and he could escape Gorveth and leave the death trap of the excised world behind. And one day, he would advance to the transcendent tier, as his heritage dictated.