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

General Rham D’vix stood atop a roof overlooking the square where his army had gathered. The casualties of the street-to-street advance had been extensive, but he had soldiers to spare. At last count, he still had nearly thirty thousand good fighters at his disposal. The vast majority weren’t terribly powerful, but that was no surprise. Prodigies were not easily cultivated. Still, they were a formidable fighting force, and it was only a matter of time until the fortress fell.

The building itself did not look terribly impressive. It was large, reaching almost ten stories, but with its square construction, it had the appearance of a bunker. Curious, considering that Ironshore was a city of craftsmen. The rest of the city was, even by his standards, quite beautiful, which made the fortress stand out like sunlight in the Hollow Depths.

“No communication?” he asked his second-in-command. The woman was one of his most impressive lieutenants, worth a dozen of his other soldiers. It was a pity, then, that her appearance didn’t live up to her ability. If it had, there was every chance that she would have been the one in charge. As it stood, her status was held back by her slightly square face, stout figure, and, most importantly, the scar that decorated her cheek. The pale, white line was only an inch long, but it was a glaring imperfection that any elf would notice. Judgement would inevitably follow.

D'vix tried to look past it, but he felt no shortage of disgust when he looked upon the hideous woman. If he’d been afflicted with such a mark, he would have had the good grace to resign his commission and take up a life among the peasants with whom such things were distressingly common. The only reason he’d allowed her to climb to such lofty heights was because she was his half-sister. Otherwise, he’d never have let such an abomination mar his army’s reputation.

“We have received a message from Eldrathûn,” N’yix said, slapping her fist across her breastplate in the customary salute. “Only three of the ten people we sent to the Trial of Primacy have returned. The others were killed.”

“May their sacrifice serve the Empress.”

“May their sacrifice serve the Empress,” she echoed, bowing her head. Then, she continued, “Our forces on the other side of the mountains have experienced extensive losses. We still do not know how they were killed, but initial findings suggest a large force of Rangers and Mages were responsible. We will know more when our Investigators return.”

D’vix schooled his expression, resisting the urge to smile. Of the ten generals in Eldrathûn, he was the least accomplished. That was why he’d been given such an inglorious task as taking a city of crafters. Most of the others were busy defending Eldrathûn from the horrors of the Hollow Depths, but his rival, Esek Kilara, had been tasked with subduing any settlements on the other side of the mountains. She had led a very successful siege of the city known as Norcastle, but since then, she had experienced nothing but hardship. Her scouts kept going missing, and many had been found dead around the city known as Argos.

“They will discover the truth,” D’vix said. “What of Ironshore’s leaders? Have they given terms for their surrender?”

He was no fool. Reports suggested that nearly ten thousand people had crammed themselves into the fortress. It was large enough to accommodate such a population, but not comfortably. In addition, there was little chance that they had sufficient supplies to hold out for long. The only answer was to treat for peace.

D’vix would listen to their demands, and there was a chance that he might even acquiesce to a few. For now. He could use their Miners, at least. The Tradesmen were valuable as well. However, if a city of dwarves, gnomes, and goblins – he sneered at the thought of the grotesque creatures – thought they would be afforded any measure of status under his rule, then they were vastly mistaken. They would quickly learn their places – well below even the Illythiri peasants – and perhaps prove themselves worthy of his mercy.

The only thing worse would be if they were other elves. If it had been a city populated by those hateful creatures, there would have been no chance at peace. The city would have been razed to the ground, and the monstrous inhabitants would have been sacrificed to the Empress. Even thinking about the possibility made D’vix’s heart beat a little faster.

“There has been no communication, General.”

That was troubling for D’vix. It had been nearly an hour since he and the rest of the world had been notified of the end of the Trial of Primacy. At first, he had expected something to change, but in that time, nothing had happened. So, he had concluded that any champions the city had sent – if there were any – had died during the Trial.

A good thing, too. Otherwise, taking the city would have been much more difficult. Still possible, of course. But the number of casualties would have been far higher.

That thought had just crossed his mind when he heard a clatter from the front lines. Using Tactician’s Sight, he focused on the source of the noise, and he saw that two soldiers had collapsed. Before he could ask what was going on, another fell. Then another. In only a few moments, a hundred soldiers hit the ground. They weren’t dead, but they weren’t moving, either.

“What is happening?” he asked aloud. “Healers!”

As the white-robed Healers sprang into motion at his order, even more soldiers fell. Panic struck D’vix as he imagined that one of horrors of the Hollow Deeps had somehow made it to the surface. Many of those creatures could render themselves entirely invisible, and they could kill an unsuspecting fighter in the space of a few moments. Certainly, only the strongest among them could bear the light of day, but night had long since fallen. After only a few seconds, he realized that such a thing wasn’t possible. They’d enacted plenty of countermeasures against those creatures traveling to the surface.

And if nothing else, D’vix trusted the systems his people had developed over millennia living underground. Without them, the Illythiri would have long since gone extinct.

Dozens more soldiers fell before the Healers arrived. Even as they cast one spell after another, the frontline soldiers summoned shields to protect the people keeping them alive. Only after D’vix saw tiny ripples in those shields did he home in on the culprits. Tiny insects – barely bigger than his thumbnail – swarmed the area.

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Someone shouted, then fell. The Healers attempted to keep him alive, but via Tactician’s Instincts, D’vix knew the fighter was already dead. Another went down a second later. D’vix caught sight of a dark blur before yet another fell.

The entire army started to panic as more and more went down. D’vix lost count of the number of dead. His mind whirled with the possibilities, and he once again wondered if one of the horrors had followed them to the surface. He knew it wasn’t possible. He knew he was wrong to even consider it. But he couldn’t help his thoughts.

What he could do was protect his people, though.

He didn’t like using Immunity under such circumstances. After all, the battle was won. But he knew that if he didn’t do something, and soon, he wouldn’t have an army left. So, with some regret, he used one of his most powerful abilities: