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

When Elijah arrived at the gate, he found his nephew – with his armor so damaged that it likely offered no protection at all – standing over a decapitated body. A handful of other dark elves knelt at his feet, having been disarmed. One of the lunar deer from the island stood guard, his small antlers glittering in the moonlight.

“Miggy? Are you okay?” Elijah asked on approach.

The young man looked up, then, with a wooden sword, pointed at the body as he said, “That’s their General. He was trying to escape, so Trevor and I broke away from the battle to cut him off.”

“Where did you come from? The island?” Elijah asked.

When he’d returned from the Trial, he’d been shocked to learn that Ironshore was under siege by an army of dark elves. Until then, Elijah had never encountered that particular brand of elves, but after his experiences with Ikan, he was not surprised to find that they were hostile.

The elves themselves were, as their name suggested, dark complected, with mostly white hair. Other than that, they looked like every other species of elf he’d met. Sharp, almost delicate features, pointed ears, and relatively slight stature were common characteristics, but there were a few outliers as well.

Like one of the prisoners kneeling nearby. She was gorgeous, with a tiny scar on her cheek, but she was noticeably more muscular than many of her fellows. The others characterized the exact features he’d been led to expect.

“I came from Argos. I wanted to bring more, but the Teleportation Network is really expensive. I could only afford to bring two other people,” Miguel answered, jerking Elijah’s attention away from the prisoners. “Including Trevor. Not that Argos could give us many people. They’ve got problems of their own.”

Elijah listened as Miguel explained that the assault on Ironshore was not an isolated incident. Norcastle had already fallen, and Argos seemed to be next on their list. The only reason it hadn’t already happened was because Isaak and Artemis had killed most of their forward scouts. Still, that was only sufficient to delay the inevitable, meaning that war was coming to the Greek city sooner rather than later.

“You got your class, didn’t you?” Elijah guessed. He felt a connection to Miguel that far exceeded anything he’d experienced before. In some ways, it was similar to what he felt with Nerthus, but somehow more expansive.

“Green Warden,” Miguel answered. “It’s tied to the grove.” He glanced at the prisoners, adding, “I don’t think it’s a good idea to say more when they’re here.”

“Right. We should get back to the fight,” Elijah said. Then, he went about restraining the prisoners. It would have been much easier to just kill them, but after everything that had happened, he’d seen enough death. Already, he’d killed hundreds – if not thousands – of dark elves, and he didn’t want to keep that going unless absolutely necessary.

Once the prisoners were restrained, Elijah and Miguel headed back to the site of the battle. When they arrived, they found that the dark elves had surrendered. It seemed that being abandoned by their general had taken the wind out of their sails. There were still a couple of pockets of fighting, but after letting Ramik know about the prisoners, Elijah added his weight to the conflict. The end of the battle came less than an hour later when the rest of the attackers had been killed or captured. A few managed to escape into the mines, but that was inevitable.

Ironshore simply didn’t possess the numbers to stop them.

When Elijah approached Ramik, he asked, “How many prisoners?”

“Less than a thousand,” the goblin mayor answered. He took off his hat and sighed, “This is going to be a mess.”

“Better than dying,” Elijah reminded him. When he’d arrived at the Branch, Ramik and the other leaders had been putting together terms for their own surrender. His return had changed everything. “Or being captured. I don’t know if they do that, though.”

“Capture would have been worse,” Ramik stated. “Dark elves – they call themselves Illythari – are generally known to be xenophobic racists. They also adhere quite strictly to a caste system, treating anyone weaker quite harshly. They hold quite a particular hatred for goblins.”

The implication didn’t need to be spoken aloud. If Ramik or Ironshore’s other goblins had been captured, they wouldn’t have lived much longer.

“Do you need anything else from me?” Elijah asked.

Ramik didn’t, which gave him the chance to reunite with his sister-in-law and nephew. Both were quite busy with the aftermath of the battle, so aside from a quick greeting, Elijah spent the next few hours healing the injured. That included the dark elves who’d been taken prisoner, many of whom had been wounded by his attacks. Elijah didn’t miss the irony of that, though he refused to focus on it. After he got into a rhythm, he zoned out, turning his mind to recent events.

He certainly hadn’t expected to enter a battle the moment he returned from the Trial, so he hadn’t had the chance to go over his gains. As expected, getting first place in the Trial of Primacy had pushed him to level one-twenty-five, though his progress had stalled there. Not unexpected, given what had happened so long ago when he’d reached level ten. Back then, much of his experience had been lost, though he still held out some hope that this time would be a little different.

With that in mind, he returned to the grove, took off his bloody equipment, and took a long shower. Nerthus was there waiting for him when he finished, but aside from exchanging a few basic pleasantries, he didn’t spend much time with the spryggent. It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy to see his friend, but he had other things to worry about. To that end, he settled down his bed and opened his status: