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

Benedict was trying.

He truly was. Throughout his time in the Trial, he’d done everything possible to mind his own business and leave everyone else alone. And for the most part, he’d succeeded. Certainly, he’d sacrificed a few people so he could summon another Malicious Guard, but they’d practically begged him to kill them. Not in so many words, but he’d seen the way they looked at him. He’d heard the way they spoke of him. And he could tell which way the wind was blowing. It was only a matter of time before they attacked him. So, in a sense, he’d acted in self-defense.

Of course, Benedict only partially believed the pretty, little lies he’d told himself. He knew he was a murderer, and the only true justification for his actions was that he’d needed a minion if he wanted to survive the Trial of Primacy. His experiences on the journey to Nexus Town had made that abundantly clear. So, he’d done what he had to do.

But once he’d had his Malicious Guard in tow, he’d resolved to pick his targets more judiciously. No more wanton murder. No more ritual sacrifices. There were plenty of monsters in the jungle, so he didn’t need to prey on humans.

And when he’d conquered the first challenge, he’d made the mistake of believing that everything would work out. After all, he no longer looked like a pallid and pockmarked shut-in. He was handsome and powerful, and it should have been easy for everyone to accept the person he’d become.

Yet, when he’d come to the so-called Citadel of Innovation – more like a Citadel of Trash – he’d only fought for a few hours before someone tried to kill him. Sure, they’d shouted something indignant, accusing him of consorting with abominable demons, but just like his own justifications, they were hollow. The reality was that those people had seen a single traveler, all alone and with his focus on the group of robotic insects he was fighting at the time.

That made him an easy target.

Or so they’d thought.

The Malicious Guard had another opinion on the subject, and it had slaughtered two of them before they’d even had a chance to recognize the danger they’d put themselves in. The others had fought for only a few moments before they saw what should have been obvious and fled.

For his part, Benedict had attempted to stop the Malicious Guard from pursuing, but his hold on such a newly summoned creature was tenuous. And as he’d discovered, Malicious Guards were particularly stubborn and difficult to control. As a result, the thing had gone out of range before Benedict had a chance to corral it.

It wasn’t a huge loss. Sure, he had expected it to kill the remainder of the group that had attacked him, but that wasn’t a big deal. Like all opportunistic bullies, they deserved what was coming to them. And eventually, the Malicious Guard would have come back. Benedict only had to retreat to the safe zone he’d found and wait for the creature to return.

But then, the connection had been severed, and the guard had died. Or perhaps it was the other way around. For a few minutes, Benedict had been stunned, his ethera drained down to nothing. More troublingly, he hadn’t recovered any of his reserved attributes, and for a while, he’d despaired that he never would.

It was an hour before his ethera had begun to return, and another twenty minutes before the reserved portion of his attributes recovered. A wave of relief had swept through him, then, but the meaning was clear. His summoned demonic creatures were powerful, but there were consequences if he let them die.

He hadn’t noticed that with the imps, but then again, they were much weaker than the Malicious Guard. So, losing one of them wasn’t nearly as impactful. The implication was that the more powerful a summoned creature, the more impactful the consequences if he allowed one to be slain.

In the wake of that, he’d been a little out of it, and so, when he’d ventured out to investigate, only to see the man who’d healed him fleeing from a horde of machine-like insects, he’d acted without thought, showing him and his companions to the safe zone he’d found.

That had been a mistake.

Certainly, he had nothing against the wild, shoeless healer. Nor did he have a problem with the other Healer in a sparkly robe. Similarly, he was ambivalent about the dwarf, though he did find the presence of other races fascinating.

Not that he was currently thinking about that.

Instead, the whole of his attention was on the other two members of the healers’ party. One man and one woman. They were both fighters, judging by their weapons and the woman’s armor. She was quite attractive, with pale skin and jet-black hair. The man was good-looking as well, though in a heavier set sort of way that suggested joviality.

But Benedict wasn’t concerned with their appearances so much as he was distressed by the way they made him feel. Every glance carried with it an accusation. A judgement. Even from the obviously good-natured man, he felt nothing but disdain. And what’s worse, he felt something similar for them.

It hadn’t taken long for him to recognize the culprit, especially when his Demon Core roiled angrily every second he found himself in their presence.

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Thankfully, he’d recently gained a new ability which he expected was the only reason he was still alive: