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

Isaiah’s artificial heart didn’t pound. In fact, its function never changed, regardless of the situation, entirely unaffected by adrenaline or the body’s other regulating chemicals. Most of the time, that steadiness was helpful, especially in regulating his emotions. The fight-or-flight response was dependent on an increased heart rate, after all. But right now, he cursed it.

Because he wanted to be scared. He needed it to remind him just how close to the edge his path had taken him.

The decision to target Elijah had been a calculated one, and Isaiah knew it had very nearly blown up in his face. The idea had been born of necessity, though. Logically, it made sense – at least when taken on its face. But Elijah was a variable for which he could not account. A wildcard if ever there was one. The man never quite reacted the way he was supposed to.

For instance, when Isaiah had stationed Corporal Ford at the gate closest to Elijah’s arrival, he’d hoped the inevitable clash would show the Druid that his power was not absolute, that Seattle was mighty in its own right. That had backfired because the city’s vaunted weapons had barely even fazed Elijah.

In retrospect, it should have been expected. Isaiah had underestimated Elijah’s rate of progression – a mistake he would not make again. Or that was what he’d told himself before setting up the situation at the gala preceding the auction.

Manipulating that idiot Vincent Santoro hadn’t been difficult. Just a few snippets of conversation in his vicinity, and he’d done precisely what Isaiah wanted him to do. It had all been going so well, right up until Sadie Song took the bait instead of Elijah. That had not been within Isaiah’s calculations – another mistake, and for a man who was unused to making them – but he’d gone ahead with his plan anyway.

And Elijah took it without reaction.

Certainly, his rage simmered. He clearly wanted to act, which would have allowed Isaiah to lock down the entire ballroom with his prepared domain. Such was his prerogative as the City Lord, even if it took preparation.

But Elijah had surprised him once again, and Isaiah was forced to alter his plan. He didn’t like that. He’d never been good at improvisation, and he knew himself well enough to recognize that he’d gotten worse of late.

That was why he planned so extensively.

Well, one of the reasons. He planned extensively, and not just out of necessity. It was simply a fundamental and undeniable expression of his personality.

Regardless, Isaiah had put Elijah on the spot and used him as an example. And in a way, it had worked. The others fell into line, knowing that if Isaiah could put someone like Elijah in his place, then he could certainly do so with them as well. However, even if it had all worked out, the mistakes he’d made were like a burr in his mind.

Even more distressing was that, at every turn, the Druid had failed to follow Isaiah’s expectations. That suggested that the man had changed. Or Isaiah’s impressions had always been wrong.

Of course, Isaiah continued to watch the Druid even more closely than he watched everyone else. To his surprise, Elijah had been fairly well-behaved, though he had frustratingly disappeared from Isaiah’s watchful eye on a couple of occasions. Still, he didn’t pick any fights or cause any other problems. Instead, he’d wandered around the city like a tourist.

It was infuriating – not because he wanted Elijah to cause issues, but because it once again showed that Isaiah’s interpretation of the man was wrong.

But for now, he couldn’t focus on that.

Instead, he had the fate of the world in his hands. If he continued to make mistakes, especially with the Summit, then Earth would be excised, and humanity – at least on this planet – would cease to exist. Isaiah refused to allow that.

So, with that spurring him forward, he stepped in front of the mirror and straightened his appearance. Crisp lines. High collar. A perfectly shaved head. He was the very picture of a no-nonsense military man.

It was such a huge departure from where he’d been before the world’s transformation. Certainly, he’d spent most of his adult life in the Air Force, but after his separation, he’d let some of those ingrained habits fall by the wayside. He’d allowed his hair to grow out, and he’d taken to wearing much flashier suits. His discipline had never wavered, just his environment and the expectations that came with working as a private citizen.

However, when he’d taken over Seattle, he’d recognized the need for structure. That was why he never appeared in public out of uniform.

He took a deep breath.

Perhaps he needed to soften his image a little. Maybe a wife would help. There were candidates out there. Competent and ambitious women who truly believed in what they were doing in Seattle – in what they had planned for the world. But he couldn’t settle for just anyone. She needed to be attractive, of course – but not so beautiful that she was intimidating. More than that, though, she would need an aura of compassion. A Healer, perhaps. Someone not afraid to get her hands dirty by helping those less fortunate.

As those thoughts crossed his mind, Isaiah filtered through hundreds of options, settling on three likely candidates. Database was not all-inclusive. There was so much he didn’t know. However, with every passing day, he added to it. Some of that information came from the reports he received thrice a day, but most of it came from his surveillance network.

As extensive as it was, he knew he needed more cameras, drones, and listening devices if he was going to keep Seattle on the right path. The Seal of Authority he’d been granted helped, but if he truly wanted to usher his city to prominence – and save Earth from excisement – he needed to continue to advance his class. Database was a good example of the sorts of skills he needed: