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

The destruction was extensive.

The world of the Primal Realm had been obliterated for dozens of miles in every direction, and the battle had killed the wildlife that had been drawn to the Legacy of Titans in Elijah’s Arcane Loop. That they could even feel it was a troubling mystery he’d yet to solve, because he could sense nothing from within the separate space attached to the ring. The only explanation that made sense to him was that they had been driven by the rules of the Primal Realm.

But now, after every elemental beast for hundreds of miles had been drawn close, their efforts in pursuit had been rewarded by utter destruction. None had survived the upheaval wrought by the giants or the spell-driven plague Elijah had summoned.

“Are you okay?” asked Oscar as they lagged behind the group of raiders. Those gathered fighters were eager to exit the Primal Realm, but Elijah wasn’t certain if it was driven by a desire to return home or a need to escape Elijah’s potential wrath. Maybe it was both, which left him a little pensive.

He shook his head. “I don’t know. A lot of killing.”

“That is the way of these things.”

It was a simple statement, but in its simplicity was a profound truth. Progression meant killing – at least for him and other combatants like him. That was the path they’d chosen. Maybe some of them could have picked different archetypes and become Scholars or Tradesmen. But more often than not, they’d been pigeonholed into becoming combatants.

And that meant killing.

In fact, Elijah was sometimes aghast at how comfortable he was with it.

“Should we be so…I don’t know…blasé about it, though? Those giants didn’t deserve to die. Neither did all these animals,” he said.

“They attacked us.”

Escobar, who was trotting along at about shoulder height, barked in agreement. If anyone was fine with killing, it was the chihuahua. From everything Elijah understood about the dog, he considered any challenge to his ultimate authority to be a personal affront. An attack on his person. And he was more than willing to respond in kind.

Of course, that was probably just the chihuahua in him.

“It doesn’t matter, I guess. It was them or us,” Elijah admitted. “Just seems like such a waste.”

Did it matter that none of them were real? Not to him. Would the donated souls remember the pain they experienced when they were reunited with their bodies? Would some vestige of that enmity remain? An echo of their experiences with death? He had no idea, but he didn’t like the notion that they might be potentially scarred from the ordeal.

He let out another sigh, then continued along.

As he did, he studied the hundred-or-so people in front of him. They were an impressive bunch by anyone’s standards. Maybe not individually mighty – not like him and Oscar – but together, they could muster a significant level of power.

Idly, he wondered if he could take them all, and the immediate answer was an unequivocal yes. Hopefully, it would never come to that, though.

For their part, the people – all from different guilds, but with the majority from the League of Ancients – were kind enough, but Elijah couldn’t help but wonder if that was due to fear. After all, if he knew he could kill them all without skipping a beat, then surely they did as well.

Those thoughts – and many more just like it – flitted across Elijah’s mind as he, the pack, and the raiders crossed the Crystal Fields. It wasn’t long before they left the battlefield behind and entered more pristine territory. Once again, the floating mountains loomed overhead while giant crystals dotted the landscape.

Without any wildlife, it was eerily beautiful.

Almost timeless.

Nearly two weeks passed, and in that time, Elijah grew no closer to the raiders. Chelsea – the leader – spoke to him on a few occasions, but even she was incredibly standoffish. Obviously, she was afraid.

It reminded Elijah of Ironshore.

There, the people accepted his presence as inevitable, but that didn’t mean he was one of them. The same was true of the raiders. There were a few people there who looked at him with a mixture of animosity and ambition – an unkempt woman with great bone structure among them – but thankfully, no one acted on those feelings.

For Elijah’s part, it felt a lot like traveling with only Oscar and the pack for company, for all the companionship the raiders offered. But that was okay. The two weeks allowed everyone to recover to full strength, and it also gave Elijah the opportunity to inspect his gains.

After all, he’d killed a lot of giants, animals, and other creatures since the last time he’d checked his status. Sure, the experience seemed to have been split between him and the pack, but the sheer volume of carnage – and the levels of the giants – had inflated his gains by quite a lot.

Still, eight levels was more than he could have expected.

Two hundred.

It was a ridiculous number, and yet, when he considered it, it fell in line with what he’d gained in the Chimeric Forge. Oddly enough, it would have been more if it weren’t for having to split the experience with the pack. More than that, though, was the fact that when he’d hit level two hundred, the flow of experience had come to a screeching halt. Even killing the last four giants had barely offered a miniscule degree of progress.

That suggested that it would take quite a lot to push him forward from then on out. He’d hit speed bumps before, so it shouldn’t have been surprising. Even so, it felt like he’d run head-first into a brick wall. Scaling it would take quite a lot of effort.

With that in mind, he looked at his status: