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

He had won.

As Isaiah stared at the huge screen, which was divided into a dozen squares, that simple fact was abundantly apparent. Everywhere he looked, he saw dead bodies. Most of the corpses belonged to members of the Adventurers Guild. Apparently, Bruce Garet had an ability associated with his Guild Leader class that allowed him to magically enforce certain conditions upon people who’d sworn oaths to his guild. Given that one of the requirements to join had been a pledge to defend it unto death gave Garet all the leeway he needed to sacrifice everyone in the guild.

From what Isaiah could tell, most of the resultant energy had gone to waste. And as inefficient as the act was, it was also the only reason Elijah Hart had managed to survive. If Garet had absorbed all of the energy, he wouldn’t have simply been unstoppable. He could have squashed the Druid like a bug.

But Isaiah couldn’t concern himself with Garet any longer. He and his guild were dead. Mercer was under control, with some of the worst residents having been confined to jail. It wasn’t a lasting solution, but Isaiah hoped something more permanent would present itself soon. Because the alternative was to execute them, and that was a step he didn’t want to take.

It was a slippery slope, after all. If he could justify killing imprisoned enemies, where would it stop? He had very few checks on his power, now. And he knew that, if he allowed himself to solve his problems that way, he would end up doing so for every issue he encountered. Before long, he would start killing people for disagreeing with him too vehemently, which would turn him into a tyrant.

Isaiah wouldn’t allow himself to descend to those depths, so he’d long since vowed to find other ways. That wasn’t to say that he wouldn’t engage in violence if necessary. It only meant that he would try everything else – as he had with both the Adventurer’s Guild as well as Mercer Mesa – before going down that road.

He took a deep breath, then turned to his people. Everyone in the room had the Scholar archetype, which meant they were perfectly suited for gathering and parsing information. But none of them were fighters, and he could see how much the battles had affected them.

“We have won a great victory,” he said. “Because of the people in this room, Seattle has a chance to once again become the great city it used to be. People will no longer have to worry about whether or not they’ll get a cup of water for the day. Our gardens will flourish, and our people will survive. That’s the first step before we can regain all that we’ve lost, and due to the sacrifices of the people in this room – and our soldiers out there – we have that opportunity.

“You should all be proud of what we accomplished. You’ve saved lives today,” he said. Someone clapped, but it was clearly premature because nobody else joined in. Finally, Isaiah said, “Thank you, and keep up the good work.”

After that, he turned away from the screen and fled the command center. Not long after, he reached his office. Only after the door had closed did he let out a long sigh and collapse into his chair. Absently, he rubbed his chest. A wound he’d received shortly after the world had been transformed continued to bother him. Back then, he’d taken a spear to the chest – courtesy of a would-be bandit – and the injury had never fully healed. Even now, years later, his heart regularly skipped a beat, and he sometimes had trouble breathing.

Of course, he hid the infirmity from everyone else. A leader needed to project strength. Any perceived weakness would invite challenge and suggest to his followers that he wasn’t the man for the job. The only person who knew of the injury was the Healer he saw once a week, and according to her, it would be years before she progressed to the point where she could completely rid him of the aftereffects.

So, Isaiah had resolved himself to simply dealing with it. Increased attributes helped. So did reaching the Body of Wood stage of his cultivation. And yet, there were times when it felt like he was having a heart attack.

Stress made it worse, too. Which meant that his chest currently felt like he had an elephant sitting on it. Perhaps it was time to call for the Healer again. That usually alleviated the symptoms for a few days, at least.

But before he could do so, Isaiah abruptly realized that he was not alone. There was a statue of a rabbit sitting on his desk. Or he assumed it was a rabbit. The thing was nearly two feet tall, with giant ears that stood straight up, and a body that seemed somewhat sturdier than any hare Isaiah had ever seen.

And it was made of what looked like faceted diamond.

Not a series of gems, either. Instead, it looked as if it had been carved from a single stone. So, when it moved, turning its head toward Isaiah, he couldn’t help but flinch.

It flickered and then, an instant later, projected a beam of light onto the surface of the desk. Over the next few moments, a figure slowly appeared. To Isaiah, it looked a lot like something being 3D printed, but with light instead of plastic. As he watched, Isaiah slowly embraced the couple of combat skills he possessed, and he mentally activated his most powerful combat drone. It was strong, but because it required a ridiculous amount of ethera to operate, he usually kept it in reserve as his personal guard.

“There’s no need for that,” said the figure, which looked like a man made of the same diamond as the bunny. “Do not waste your ethera, young man.”

“What is going on?” Isaiah asked, embracing Placid Mind to divorce himself from his emotions. Clearly, the figure didn’t mean him harm. And judging by the amount of ethera wafting off the bunny, it could hurt him if it chose to do so.

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“Good. Straight to the point. No point in dealing with superfluous emotions and details. I am here to offer you an opportunity, my boy,” the figure said, gesturing animatedly. “Here. One second. I think I remember how to do this…ah. There it is.”

At that moment, a notification appeared before Isaiah’s inner eye: