Mirror Princess: A LitRPG Space Fantasy (Sword of Asteria Book 2)

by Eddie R. Hicks

  Emeraldal scampered away while shooting arrow after arrow. “You three have gotten stronger,” she sneered at Zuran, Kam, and Henrietta.

  “That we have,” Zuran said, then hurled a Fireball at the Ranger. His spell missed and exploded on the ground in a blaze of flames.

  Emeraldal focused on Xanthe now. The Ranger knew Xanthe was a more significant threat than Henrietta despite using a support sigil build. Xanthe dodged the arrows and continued her pursuit for the Ranger, sitting at 18 percent HP.

  “And you . . .” Emeraldal said to Xanthe, her lips twisting into a frown. “I should have slit your throat when I had the chance!”

  Xanthe lifted an eyebrow. “Do I even know you?”

  “Remember Dolnir and his men?” Emeraldal asked, then sent another arrow to Xanthe.

  “Oh, that is right!” Xanthe swatted the arrow with her left blade. “You missed Averyl by minutes that day.”

  Emeraldal nocked an arrow, faced Xanthe head-on but did not shoot it. She lowered her bow, unveiling her green lips curled into a frown. “Serzax continues to punish me for that error to this day!”

  Xanthe held the Aspirant’s Blades ahead while eying Emeraldal’s bow. “Why let Serzax, a human, order you around?!”

  “It is the will of the emperor!”

  “To pimp his daughter off to men like Serzax and his son?” Xanthe asked. “They could have any woman they want. Why Averyl?”

  Emeraldal shook her head. “Averyl is the key to correcting balance to the universe!”

  Xanthe gave Emeraldal a smile. Emeraldal’s low HP must have put enough fear in her to make her more vulnerable to Xanthe’s charisma. The imperial Ranger was revealing secrets right in the middle of the battle. Xanthe lowered her weapons, hoping that it would entice Emeraldal to tell her more.

  “And how does Serzax plan to make that happen?” Xanthe continued.

  Emeraldal looked away, her face lost in thought. She faced Xanthe again to say. “By—”

  Slash.

  Henrietta swung the Aspirant’s Splitter’s blade through the top of Emeraldal’s head.

  “No, wait!” Xanthe cried out to Henrietta.

  But it was too late.

  When Henrietta finished her blow, Emeraldal crashed to the ground back first with a crimson gash across her forehead. The gap in the Ranger’s head was leaking gore and exposing pink bits of her brain to the air as her fairy wings went limp and lifeless.

  And Veronis was out of range to heal Emeraldal and likely busy fighting off Zuran and Kam.

  “I got her again!” Henrietta looked at Xanthe and leaped up triumphantly. “I am getting pretty good at this!”

  “Could you had not waited another minute?” Xanthe sighed, held her hips while shaking her head at Henrietta. “She was about to explain it all!”

  Zuran held his Aspirant’s Spellbook, its pages flipping as astral winds blew against his dark bare chest, exposed from his opened Aspirant’s Cloak. He stopped and looked at his brilliantly glowing book and eyed the wounded Cleric.

  “Wait, so maybe killin’ him isn’t a good idea?!” Zuran said.

  “No, it is not,” Xanthe said. She sheathed her blades and stood above Veronis. Kam and Henrietta stood to the imperial Cleric’s left and right, their two-handed weapons held intimidatingly. “Resurrect her now,” Xanthe demanded.

  Veronis looked at Xanthe, confused. “Whose side are you on, shadow angel?”

  “Bring Emeraldal back to life, so we will not take yours,” Xanthe said, her voice cold and firm.

  Veronis glanced at Emeraldal’s corpse, then back up at Xanthe with fear twitching on his face. “Promise?”

  She gave him a smile. “Indeed.”

  Xanthe’s charisma took hold of Veronis’s fearful mind. He got to his feet and limped to Emeraldal’s body without casting Starlight Recovery on himself. Veronis only focused on what Xanthe’s charming smile asked of him. The imperial Cleric shut his eyes to focus and cast the Resurrection spell, calling forth a ray of light from the stars to shine on Emeraldal’s corpse, bringing life back to the dead Ranger.

  Zuran shook his head. “Xanthe . . .” he said. “I think this might be a mistake—”

  “Shush,” Xanthe cut him off. “My words have complete control over them.”

  Life returned to Emeraldal. She opened her eyes and sat up as her fatal wounds sealed shut. Xanthe approached the weakened Ranger, kneeled to level her face with her, and shot her a charisma-enhanced smile to persuade her to cooperate.

  “Now, tell me what Serzax plans are,” Xanthe asked. Politely, of course.

  Emeraldal gestured her head. “Why not ask him?”

  Xanthe grimaced. “Who?”

  “Me,” said the deep voice of a man.

  She looked at who it was. An imperial wielding a two-handed sword, wearing a moonlight-reflecting cuirass over his muscular chest. His presence sparked a surge of uncontrollable rage in Xanthe, so much so that she lost her ability to control Emeraldal and Veronis with her charisma’s persuasive allure.

  Xanthe stood from the Ranger to confront the newly arrived imperial. “Leafblade . . .”

  Nothing else mattered now. Leafblade was there, and Xanthe had to fucking slit his throat right fucking then and there. She took one step to Leafblade, and he used Whirling Slash. The skill made him spin around with his sword like he was a tornado made of blades. He used the AP skill before Xanthe or her party could react.

  The blow from Whirling Slash hurled her through the air. Xanthe hit the ground and rolled about, losing HP here and there until she fell to 199. She imagined her party suffered the same fate since they all lost HP from the attack. Henrietta remained on her feet. Her human racial trait activated and prevented the knockback from affecting her. And that was no good because Henrietta had just become the target of Emeraldal, Leafblade, and Veronis. They were going to kill her.

  Or so she thought.

  The imperial trio just laughed, sprouted fae wings, flew off the cliff and out of sight, just like the other imperials did when the four had arrived.

  Xanthe pushed herself up and spat out a wad of blood. “Fuck . . .”

  “Lass,” Kam said as he got to his feet. “You need to control yourself when—”

  “Leafblade ordered the deaths of millions of my people!” Xanthe screamed at the faun. “How the fuck do you expect me to stay calm around someone like that?!”

  “You did it quite well back in Holt,” Kam said.

  “I did not know Leafblade was the one at the time . . .”

  The four stopped at the cliff’s edge, watching as Leafblade led his friends to their destination below, seated at the foot of the mountain they stood on. It was Lumière City, glowing red-orange from the flames of a violent siege, releasing smoke into the sky to block out the stars. Xanthe’s eagle eyes spotted the imperials that had left when the four arrived to fight with Emeraldal.

  It all made sense why the fae climbed to the top of the mountain.

  Imperials in the Mountains – Quest Complete

  Obtained: 3000 Experience Points

  Xanthe has attained level 19!

  Henrietta has attained level 17!

  “That is why Remy wanted the fae on the mountains,” Xanthe said dejectedly.

  Zuran nodded as he observed the chaos. “A secondary attack from the skies while the dark elves sack Lumière.”

  “And we wasted time chitchatting with Emeraldal,” Kam snorted.

  Xanthe stepped toward the cliff. “Then let us undo our error.”

  Kam looked at her strangely. “How?”

  Xanthe showed him how. She spread her black feathered wings and grinned at her flight time. It was full, and she had a strength potion in her inventory. Strength influenced one’s flight time. The more you had, the stronger your wings, therefore the more time you could spend in the air. Though she opted to save the potion for later. She had a feeling she might need it for the return flight.

  “Come with me, Zuran,” Xanthe s
aid. “Join me as we chase them.”

  “Uh,” Henrietta spoke up with one finger nervously placed over her red lips. “Kam and I cannot fly.”

  “Make your way back down, then,” Xanthe said.

  And she dove off the cliff without waiting for Henrietta’s or Kam’s reply.

  Xanthe caught an updraft of air as she soared through the air and used it to glide down to the burning elven city. Her eyes never left the sight of Leafblade’s armor.

  “Hey!”

  Xanthe glanced back briefly and saw Zuran buzzing his dragonfly wings, wincing. He was struggling to keep pace with Xanthe and the speed her racial trait gave her.

  “Are we chasing the imperials?” Zuran shouted to her amidst the winds blowing. “Or just Leafblade?!”

  She looked away from him, grinning.

  “I need to know the plan, Xanthe!” Zuran continued shouting to her. “It is just the two of us now!”

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  The Sirocco approached Lumière City with its durability restored. Remy ordered its new crew, entirely comprised of dark elves, to carry out their plan. Tempeste, against her will, operated as Remy’s second in command as the majestic city appeared in the distance.

  Farther north were New Svartálfar airships, idling and waiting for the signal to strike Lumière when its defenses fell. The imperial fae airship had landed in the Antoinette Mountains to deploy its crew to carry out their mission. Remy refused to tell her what it was. She hoped Zuran got the word out to his friends because there was nothing else Tempeste could do.

  The Sirocco descended from the skies to land and anchor itself in the airship docks. It was just the flagship returning home to the unsuspecting elves working in the docks. The dark elves had retreated below decks at that point, leaving Remy and Tempeste the only personnel standing on the top. He deployed the rope ladder over the edge of the airship, and asked Tempeste to do the same on the other side. Remy wanted as many ladders dangling down as possible.

  Tempeste dragged her feet the whole time.

  Workers from the dry docks climbed up the ladder and stepped foot onto the deck. She wanted to scream and tell them it was a trap but feared what the hundreds of Mages and Spell Lancers below decks would do.

  One dockworker approached Remy, staring at him strangely. Remy said nothing, just kept his hands behind his back.

  Please, do nothing stupid. Tempeste thought with shut eyes. Please, Asteria, send us the Paladin to put an end to this madness.

  “About time you returned,” said the dockworker. “Was wondering if something happened to you.”

  “We had some . . .” Remy paused. “. . . complications. But we are fine now.”

  The worker looked about, noting that only Remy and Tempeste stood on the deck. “Where is Captain Bordeaux? Or the Paladin Asteria sent to save us.”

  Remy frowned. “We do not need them.”

  The worker crossed his arms while raising an eyebrow. “What?—”

  A man screamed, drawing the worker and Tempeste’s gaze to the staircase leading to the lower decks. Remy stood still, like nothing happened. A dark elf Spell Lancer impaled one dockworker and flung their corpse off the side of the ship.

  More dockworkers erupted with screams when the body hit and splattered red across their faces.

  The dark elves sprung from their position, Mages casting devastating spells on those who fled, the Spell Lancers skewering those who tried and failed to fight.

  “Asteria’s cunt . . .” the dockworker said.

  Those proved to be his last words. Remy drew his twin swords and pushed them into the worker’s chest. Two streams of blood gushed from the exiting stab wounds. Remy yanked his swords out, spun, and moved to assist his new dark elf friends.

  The attack surprised everyone at the docks. An uncountable number of dark elves sprang out from the Sirocco, leaped off and into the airship docks, slaying every worker and aeronaut in sight. The dark elves who remained aboard the Sirocco took control of its massive cannons and targeted the idle Lumière airships undergoing repairs or maintenance.

  A crescendo of explosions thundered through the air, flinging brave men up to the skies. When the dark elves had their fill of firing upon the docked ships, they aimed the cannons at the airship docks and blasted its walls to flaming bits. After that, they took aim at the magnificent structures within Lumière City, full of civilians who did not know their lives were about to come to a sudden end.

  All the while, Remy led the push into the city’s streets, forcing Tempeste to remain at his side, his left hand holding her wrist hard. Legions of dark elf Clerics, Spell Lancers, and Mages surrounded the two, leaving behind bodies and a few soul crystals in their wake. Tempeste could do nothing to stop it. If Remy wanted to, he could order his dark elf friends to end her. Then she would lose the advantage she had, Remy’s trust. Tempeste needed to separate him from the dark elves, get him alone, then end him, and hopefully the madness around her.

  Tempeste hoped Asteria would present an opportunity to do that soon because as she looked over the shoulders of the dark elves, she noted that they were killing their way to Lumière’s castle. Not the city’s strongholds, its homes, or other strategically important areas, just the castle.

  Remy pushed past the dark elves to greet the musket-wielding guards at the castle’s gate. The guardsmen pointed the tips of their bayonets at Remy as he drew near.

  “Captain Larrivée,” one guard said to Remy. “What madness is this?!”

  Remy gave him a wicked grin. “Revolution!”

  Then reached for his swords.

  Tempeste looked away when the blood sprayed on the castle’s walls. She tried to tell herself that the pops of gunfire echoing were not the kingdom’s musketeers firing. She told herself that the blood gargling screams of men as they hit the ground were not her countrymen failing to stop Remy and the dark elves, or that the sound of battering rams smashing open the castle’s main entrance was not real.

  Remy grabbed Tempeste’s arm and dragged her past the carnage. The dark elf fighters marched at their side as an escort. She could not deny what was going on anymore. Her boots had splashed through too much blood, and her ears kept picking up the screams of men dying and women begging Asteria for mercy.

  The castle was no longer Tempeste’s home. The dark elves turned it into a slaughterhouse.

  “Stand down!”

  Multiple royal guardsmen stood to block the hallway to the throne room, their swords and halberds raised. One of the armored men fixed their gaze on her.

  “Lady L’Aignelet, what is the meaning of this?”

  She looked like a traitor now.

  “Please, lay down your weapons,” Tempeste said to the guardsmen. “And they shall spare your lives.”

  The lead guard shook his head. “But . . .”

  “You would be wise to listen to her,” Remy said, and stepped toward the guards. “Tempeste might be your future queen sooner than you think.”

  Future queen? What is he planning? Tempeste felt her heart beat so hard it shook her rib cage. Now, more than ever, she had to search for a means to end this. She had to cut Remy off from his dark elf support. After that, she was confident she could finish him one-on-one.

  She looked at his support, namely the small army of Mages, Mages who unleashed hell from their page flipping tomes. The Mages inflicted the guardsmen with curses, damage over time spells, roots to bind them in place, and other magics she did not even know Mages could cast. In a matter of seconds, dozens of brave, light elf men fell to their knees as their bodies burned in flames. Remy walked past the fires, ignored the smell of burning hair and flesh, and stormed into the throne room. His dark elf bodyguards followed, Spell Lancers first, Mages second with Clerics ambling behind and keeping watch on their HP.

  Tempeste joined them. Not because she wanted to, but out of concern for her father. The only way to make Tempeste the queen was to end her father’s life.

  She entered the thr
one room just in time to see the dark elves secure it, having killed the guards standing ahead of her father’s throne. Her father, King François L’Aignelet, stood from his throne, his eyes registering shock at the speed the dark elves made playthings of his guards. The Spell Lancers and Mages parted to the side, creating a path to the throne, a path Remy walked while brandishing twin swords.

  “I shall make this brief,” Remy said to the king. “Order your men to throw down their arms and surrender.”

  François gritted his teeth. “Have you gone mad, Captain Larrivée?!”

  Remy laughed and strode forward. He was stepping away from his dark elf escort. Tempeste assessed the throne room, smiled at the long pillars, the staircases to the side leading to the upper level, and the throne itself. It should provide cover from some of the Mage spells. She took several steps toward Remy and tightened her grip on the Spellsword Saber’s hilt. Remy would never see her strike coming.

  Remy walked past François and gave the throne a long stare. “Today, your grace, the war ends provided you do as I ask and order our forces to surrender.”

  “To the dark ones?!” François bellowed to Remy. “Never!”

  Tempeste stopped. Remy might have stepped away from the dark elves, but her father was too close. She could not risk him getting killed in the exchange.

  “Please, father,” she said and reached for him. Tempeste hoped her father could see that she did not willingly take part in the attack.

  “Daughter . . .” François faced her, putting his back to Remy. “You would ally yourself with this traitor?”

  “This traitor was to be her husband until you . . .” Remy squeezed the hilts of his blades and looked at the polished tiles made of glass. The floor was reflecting his face full of negative emotions. Remy shifted his gaze back to the king. “Listen, I grow tired of senseless bloodshed. Can you not see it, your grace? We cannot win this war. Now more than ever since the fae are assisting the dark elves. Surrendering now is the only way to save lives on all sides. End. This. Conflict. Please.”

  François considered Remy’s words, creating anticipation in the air thick enough to cut with a sword.