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

For the first time in his life, Lamar Sims felt inferior.

It wasn’t some great revelation that he’d lived a charmed life. As a child, he’d separated himself from his peers by virtue of immense athletic ability. All he had to do was keep his nose clean, train when he was told to train, and play the game he loved to the best of his ability. And he did, even going above and beyond with his work ethic, which had netted him a scholarship to an elite college football program.

Back then, people had told him that he would have a “come-to-Jesus moment” when he attended his first practice, that his new teammates were all the best of the best, and that he’d have to work hard to stand out. That hadn’t really happened. Sure, the competition was better, and there were a few players just as talented as him. But even in that first practice, he knew he was the best player on the field.

The cycle continued when he got the NFL, and while the gap closed, his combination of athleticism and dedication meant that he was still an elite among elites. That hadn’t changed throughout his career, and he had earned the label of a future Hall-of-Famer.

Then the apocalypse happened, and though the world had changed, his place in it had not. He’d even established himself as one of the top hundred people in the entire world, at one point climbing all the way to the number fifteen spot on the power ladder. So, when the opportunity to enter the Trial of Primacy presented itself, he’d had every reason to think his superiority would continue. He’d even harbored some thoughts about pushing up to the top spot.

He had his reasons for wanting power. Some were altruistic – there were bad people out there who needed to be stopped, after all. But a lot of it was wrapped up in his own view of himself. He was Lamar Sims, and he was the best at whatever he did.

But that perception of himself was shaken when, after spending a horrific two weeks battling predatory fish people, he’d met Elijah Hart. On the surface, the man didn’t seem special. He looked like a Hollywood actor cosplaying as a hobo – an impression supported by his eccentric personality that made it seem like he rarely took anything truly seriously.

It was not an accurate impression.

The man had gone into the same challenge that had very nearly killed Lamar and the group that had put their trust in him, and he’d conquered it in only a couple of hours. He didn’t even seem like it had taxed him.

Of course, Lamar knew that the challenges were much easier the second time around. He’d experienced that himself as he and his companions attacked other challenges. Yet, the difference wasn’t so great as to trivialize the endeavors. By all rights, Elijah shouldn’t have been capable of doing what he did.

The fact that he could was a reminder that Lamar could no longer call himself one of the true elites. He was strong. He knew that much, at least. He could stand up to most foes and come out of it with his life. Yet, he knew that Elijah – as well as the man’s companions – were on an entirely different level.

Never was that clearer than at that very moment, when Elijah, in the form of some plant-dinosaur-chimp monstrosity, laid waste to the wraiths around them. Vines, thick and thorny, erupted from the ground, wrapping themselves around dozens of creatures at once, and holding them in place. While they were immobilized, Elijah raced forward and ripped them to shreds.

It wasn’t even difficult for him.

What’s more, according to the man’s own words, he was still getting used to some new abilities. He would only grow stronger with every battle.

Of course, Elijah’s efforts weren’t the only thing that stood out. His companions were almost as impressive – especially Sadie Song. In armor that had been cobbled together from scrap metal, she was a whirlwind of sword strikes. At the same time, she threw protective shields on a half-dozen people all at once, guarding them from the creatures that hadn’t been affected by the vines.

Ron was equally as skilled, using wide-area healing spells that filled the gaps that the other Healers were incapable of filling. Even Dat, as affable and seemingly harmless as he sometimes seemed, flashed among the wraiths, killing them almost as effortlessly as Elijah.

Then there was the dwarf, who tossed out devices he called traps. To Lamar, they seemed more like bombs that spewed all sorts of elemental effects, but Kurik seemed adamant that there was a distinct difference.

In short, the group was terrifying. They were, as he’d often found himself muttering, monsters.

But Lamar refused to give in to those nascent feelings of inferiority. He might not be as powerful as some, but that didn’t mean he intended to lay down and die. He had people to protect, both in the Trial as well as back home in what was left of Philadelphia. So, he hefted his massive tower shield and used Shield Slam.