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

Hate had no place in war.

Certainly, there were some who managed to harness that all-encompassing emotion in an effort to push themselves further than they ever could have otherwise. In those instances, it was undeniably effective. However, in General Kinsax el’Turon’s experience, it was a sign of irrevocable weakness. Overcoming it was the height of self-control. Of true strength of character.

Still, the war elf general could not deny his hatred of Earth’s natives. They spread across the planet like a grotesque and ugly plague, with the feeblest among them hiding behind their stronger brethren. The need to protect those ineffectual weaklings weighed the truly powerful down. They held the entire planet back from reaching its potential.

All the while, they continued to breed. They continued to spread, building ugly cities filled with even uglier people. Oh, how he longed to return to true civilization, to the precise angles and brutal symmetry of his home. But he could not do so until he’d accomplished his mission. Or better yet, until he could conquer the planet and remold it into a proper elven outpost.

He didn’t even want to kill all the humans. They had their place, after all, and someone needed to perform the manual labor. Many wouldn’t even notice a difference. Being enslaved to war elves wasn’t much different than toiling along in service of Earth’s pretenders to power.

But many would still need to die. That was inevitable. None but elves could be trusted as combatants. Other races simply lacked the discipline. They were inferior, and undeniably so. Kinsax would not allow them to sully the ranks of his army. No true elf would.

“Has there been any word from the Third Army?” he asked, glancing at his assistant.

The man shook his head. “The communicators have been silent since they were reactivated,” he replied.

“Eight months,” the general growled. Vaguely, he hoped that the communicators were simply faulty. However, he knew just how unlikely that was. After all, they had been artificed on the elven home world of Esseltion, and they were as close to infallible as those talented Tradesmen could manufacture.

It was far more likely that the Third Army had fallen.

But to what force, Kinsax had no idea. From everything he’d seen of the natives, they were a disorganized people prone to pointless infighting. They could scarcely work together long enough to address the planet’s excisement, and Kinsax had often considered simply assigning that task to his own people.

That was not his charge, though.

He was there to conquer. Not to play around in Primal Realms. If the natives managed to overcome the challenges of integration, then he would return to Esseltion having subjugated a viable and valuable outpost. If not, then he and his armies would still have proven themselves worthy of more impactful tasks.

In any case, the fact that there was another force on Earth capable of destroying the Third Army was troubling. Still, losses were part of waging any war. The fall of an entire army was far from ideal, but General el’Turon felt confident that the First, Second, and Fourth Armies were more than capable of taking the human city of Seattle.

Already, a massive contingent of Warcallers had infiltrated the city and were presumably wreaking havoc among the locals. As a former Warcaller himself, he knew well how much damage they could cause via Inciting Flames.