Path of Dragons - A LitRPG Apocalypse (BOOK TWO STUBBING AUGUST 15)

As Elijah descended upon the sleeping man, a thousand emotions flashed through his mind. Guilt. Shame. Regret. But overwhelming them all was the rage that had been simmering within him for weeks since discovering his sister’s fate.

He hit the unconscious figure with predictable fury, his jaws clamping down on the man’s head. He squeezed, and it burst like a watermelon. However, Elijah’s first clue that things were not as they seemed came from the taste. For better or worse, he’d become quite acclimated to the way blood played across his tongue. Yet, when Roman’s skull burst, he wasn’t rewarded with the iron-rich taste he expected. Instead, it was a flavorless gel that threw Elijah’s mind into turmoil.

A second later, he felt a projectile moving toward him with the speed of a bullet. He leaped, kicking off the nearby wall and landing on the other side of the bed. The projectile had clipped him, but it had done no real damage.

Not at first, at least.

That didn’t last, though. The moment he landed, he felt a searing pain shooting through his leg, rendering his back claw useless. Elijah responded by crouching behind the bed, shifting into his human form, and casting Soothe before using Touch of Nature. The shooting pain slowed, but it didn’t stop. So, Elijah used Healing Rain as well before chaining Touch of Nature as many times as he could over the course of the next ten seconds.

Meanwhile, via another facet of his mind, Elijah felt his attacker cautiously approaching from the other side of the room. By the time he’d managed to corral the venom coursing through his body, the man had winked out of sight. Yet, Elijah could still feel the tiny organisms clinging to his skin. More, he could detect his footfalls as well. If he hadn’t had so much experience with illusions – his fight against Thor and the battle against the vampire in the Magister’s Estate – he never would have noticed. But now? He’d trained himself to recognize it.

So, when the man finally rounded the corner of the enormous, four-poster bed, Elijah met him with a sweeping staff strike that knocked him from his feet.

Elijah then followed it up with an overhand attack that should have crushed his attacker’s skull. Yet, when the staff descended, it found no target to receive the blow. Instead, it crashed into the floor, the metal cap clapping against the tiles. Then, Elijah felt someone behind him, and he dove forward.

Another attack nicked him, and like the other, it delivered another dose of venom. Fortunately, Soothe and Healing Rain persisted, so it was healed before it had the chance to get going.

Elijah rolled to his feet, facing his opponent.

Predictably, it was Roman. The man looked identical to the one from the bed, save that he was fully dressed and wearing all of his equipment. In addition to the sword in his hand, Roman carried a dagger at his belt. There was a bow nearby as well, explaining the origin of that first projectile.

“Good,” Elijah said, leveling his staff at the man. “When I hit your clone, I thought you might run. I’m glad you stayed to fight.”

“Who are you?” growled the self-styled king.

“My name is Elijah Hart.”

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” Roman asked. Then, recognition dawned in the expression on his face. “You’re number one.”

“I am.”

“I…I’ll give you anything,” he said, taking a step back. “What do you want? Money? I have thousands of ethereum. I have equipment, too. The best in the empire. Girls, too. As many as you want. Boys, if that’s your preference. I can give you anything you want.”

“I want my sister back.”

* * *

For the first time since becoming a system-sanctioned Lord, Roman regretted his chosen path of conquest. Not only had it robbed him of the Seal of Authority, which would have doubtless come in handy against the powerful enemy before him, but his choice had also shifted his power away from the city and into his armies. Now, even in his own city, he was only a little more powerful than a normal person of his level.

Hart.

The name was etched into Roman’s mind. It represented the turning point where he’d gone from a man who was simply reacting to the world’s transformation to one that stood a chance of saving what was left of humanity.

“Alyssa,” he whispered.

But the odd man who’d invaded his bedroom did not respond. Instead, he leveled his staff at Roman, and a second later, a bolt of lightning descended from the ceiling, striking Roman in the chest. It sent him flying across the room, but fortunately, he had Assassin’s Calm to keep him from losing consciousness.