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

The roar of the crowd followed Elijah as he left the arena behind, though it cut off as soon as he entered the adjacent tunnel. He paused, letting the Chronomancer remove the anchor before he moved on.

Predictably, Sara, Tura, and Birk were waiting for him when he got back to the room meant for preparation. Elijah hesitated to call it a locker room, largely because it didn’t fit his impression of one. Instead of lockers, showers, and questionable smells, the space looked more like a lounge – and a luxurious one at that.

When she saw him, Sara squealed and rushed in his direction. However, before she reached him, Elijah snapped out a hand to hold her at bay. “The blood.”

“Oh,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “This one pushed you a little harder, huh?”

That was an understatement. The latest fight – his tenth, completing the first phase of the tournament – had started out much the same as the rest. But the other fighter had used some sort of artifact to block his spells. So, he’d been forced into a melee. And while it had ended in Elijah’s favor, it also proved that he still had a long way to go when it came to fighting with his spear.

But he’d emerged victorious, just as he’d won the first nine fights. What had begun as a pool of more than a million contestants had now been narrowed down to a few more than a thousand.

“You’re still twitching before you attack,” said Birk.

“I know.”

“If you know, then fix it.”

“Trying.”

“Try harder.”

“Leave him be, Birk. He did well,” said Tura. “This is not a day for training.”

Birk grunted, then mumbled something that sounded a lot like, “Every day is for training.” He’d said it under his breath, but Elijah still heard it clearly enough.

“What’s wrong?” asked Sara.

Elijah shrugged. Over the past weeks, he’d experienced something of a malaise, and it wasn’t until the most recent fight that he’d come to realize its source. His opponents just weren’t on the level he’d been led to expect. Sure, some of them could push him out of his comfort zone, but no one had even managed to force him to use his bestial forms. Instead, he’d dispatched them all with spells or his spear.

Was this really the best the Empire of Scale had to offer?

“Don’t lose your edge,” Birk cautioned, almost as if he knew exactly what Elijah was thinking. “You got lucky with your seeding. No up-and-comers. That’s over, now. Next phase will see you facing off against the top demi-gods in the Empire of Scale.”

Tura cleared her throat. “The top young ones. There are some old monsters out there who would destroy the best of this generation.”

“Really?” Elijah asked. “I thought it would be the opposite.”

“Have you learned nothing, boy?”

“Clearly not,” Elijah sighed.

Sara cut in, “Beware the very old or the very young.”

“What does that mean?” Elijah asked.

“The youngest within a tier are normally prodigies,” Tura explained. “The oldest are monsters who have learned to get the most out of their limited abilities. Spells, abilities, and skills are like old shoes. If –”

“I don’t really wear shoes.”

Tura fixed him with a glare, preempting any further flippant comments. “You are familiar with the concept, I am sure,” she stated icily. “Old shoes are more comfortable. They fit the wearer better. So too is the case with the old. We know our limits. We understand how to stretch our abilities. We know how to push past the system’s constraints in ways no young prodigy ever could.

“You may have immense talents, but you are raw. Unrefined. And you have not learned to push past the limits of the system.”

“And you have?” Elijah asked.

“In some ways, yes. In other ways, I am just as much a prisoner of the system as anyone else,” she answered.

Elijah frowned. “So you’re saying that all those times I evolved abilities or my class in a different direction, I put myself at a disadvantage? I should’ve just stayed in the same lane?”

“Bah. Familiarity is good, but there is no substitute for raw power. Or suitability. You should know yourself well enough by now to understand the options available to you. If you chose to change direction, then you had a good reason.”

“That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Elijah remarked, grinning broadly. “You love me. You really, really love me. Come give me a hug!”

Tura held up one finger, stopping Elijah in his tracks. “If you touch me, your next meal will be quite unpleasant.”

“Unpleasant how?”

“You do not want to know, boy.”

Elijah felt a shiver travel up his spine.

“Noted,” he said, backing away. Then, he looked around and asked, “Can I get a little privacy so I can get dressed?”

“Of course,” Tura said before dragging Sara away. The girl had no boundaries.

Once Elijah was alone, he stripped out of his bloody armor, then took a shower in the nearby bathroom. After dressing, he turned his attention to something he’d been anticipating for weeks.

Each victory had given him a little less than a level. Not quite ten, total. Closer to eight, but enough progress that he wasn’t going to complain. That meant that he’d finally surpassed level three hundred.

He canceled all his buffs, wanting to see his status without artificial enhancement or power borrowed from equipment. Then, he opened his status, pleased to confirm what he’d already discovered: