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

Sadie Song stared at the Branch, waiting for the seconds to tick away until she could enter the Trial of Primacy. Even though everything pointed to it being the right choice, she still felt guilty about her choice to attend. There was a niggling thought in the back of her mind that she should have simply gone home. After all, with the corrupted forces of the Primal Realm having been quarantined, the survivors of Hong Kong would have a perfect opportunity to solidify their grip on the region and retake lost territory. She should have been spearheading that instead of preparing to participate in some sort of contest.

“You okay, bro?” asked Dat, standing on her right side. She glanced toward her friend, seeing that he’d taken the impending Trial very seriously. He’d spent weeks in preparation, buying useful items and plenty of supplies. Most of those supplies were nestled snuggly inside the backpack he’d been awarded for conquering the local tower with a few friends he’d made in town.

That was the thing about Dat, and the trait that made Sadie more than a little envious. He’d always been good at making friends. Part of that was due to his easygoing demeanor, but it could also be chalked up to his nonjudgemental nature. He accepted people as they were, even going so far as to show enthusiasm about their interests.

Sadie had never been able to do that.

Charitably, she could have been called cold, but there were less generous labels that had been thrown her way, many of which were quite vulgar. It had been that way since childhood, and things had only gotten worse after she’d grown up and acquired her class. She wanted to be different. She’d tried to be like Dat. But her attempts at connecting with other people usually came off awkward or condescending, neither of which were endearing qualities

But at least she had Dat. And her family, though she wasn’t sure how much the latter actually liked her. Her family loved her, certainly, but even Niko avoided her unless they pursued mutual goals.

Most of all, though, keeping her company were Sadie’s obligations. Others could worry about friendship and being liked. She concerned herself with more important things – like survival. Even if they often called her unflattering names, she would still save as many people as she could.

For her part, she’d spent most of her time in Argos at the Temple of Virtue. It was a comforting place with dense ethera – probably due to the natural treasure that grew at its center – but more importantly, it gave her the opportunity to help people. Because, for all of her cold demeanor, that was all she wanted out of life. Every step she’d taken had been in pursuit of that goal, and standing before that temple and healing people was the purest expression of those desires.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t received the same sort of adulation as that infuriating Druid. When he visited Argos, it was like a parade. And the worst part was that he didn’t even notice it. Nor did he seem to care. By comparison, she’d only gotten looks of suspicion and begrudging acceptance of the help she offered.

And it bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

“I’m fine,” she lied, shifting her own pack on her shoulder. It was smaller than Dat’s, but because of the spatial enchantment, it held even more supplies. But even if she lost it, she felt confident that she could survive with nothing but the enormous sword on her back. The weapon – which she’d received as a reward from a system task associated with the Primal Realm – was called the Sword of the Morning, and it had been her constant companion for the past year. By comparison, her armor – called Silverine Battlegear – had been crafted by her clan’s most advanced Blacksmith from the best materials they could find, and the results had been a revelation.

Hopefully, it would be enough to protect her. She didn’t fear death, but if she fell, Hong Kong would be destroyed. Thousands of lives would be lost. And the undead scourge would spread across the world.

Pushing that pressure from her mind, she glanced back at the others who would participate in the Trial. One of them was a Merchant, while the tall woman who’d latched onto Elijah Hart led a group of fighters. The odd one out was a pretty young man with curly hair. Despite his slight frame and bookish demeanor, he was the only one who felt strong enough to threaten her.

Suddenly, the Branch lit up with blue ethera, and she received a notification informing her that the Trial was ready. So, she reached out and touched the closest crystalline limb, and a moment later, her mind went dark. The last thing she thought was that she hoped she had made the right decision.

* * *

Benedict Emerson tried to ignore the agonized moans of all the people around him. Why couldn’t they simply remain silent and accept their fates? They were already dead. Their fate had been established the moment they had attacked him, and it had been sealed when they had been impaled by Ritual Spike.