Chapter Twenty
Witt held onto a crease between Vang’s massive scales as they soared through the night sky. Heat radiated from the dragon’s back, warming Witt as he sat with his legs spread at the base of its neck. They flew over mountains, and small fires flickered like fireflies from those camping below.
Further ahead, the glowing pyres of Skullheyden ignited the skull keep. Its ominous eyes followed them everywhere they went.
The warmth beneath him did nothing to melt the icy dread that filled Witt’s insides.
He was no dragon. He was nothing more than cold rage and hatred. He had chosen his path and now nothing would stop him from achieving his goals.
If not for the heroes, he never would have fled to the mountain. He never would have forced Kessy to—
Witt closed his eyes, letting the night air assault his face. She was gone and there was nothing he could do to bring her back. There was no point in reliving those memories. The way she had—
He focused on Skullheyden. After tonight, everything would change.
“Relish this moment, young one. This will be but a taste of what you can achieve.”
Witt let the anger consume him. He found it odd that in spite of everything, he held no animus toward Vang. Who was he to question a god? He’d tried to tame something that could not be tamed and Kessy had paid the price.
Kessy…
As much as he hated the heroes, he found that he hated himself just as much. He wasn’t sure if there was a right or wrong choice. There was only a choice, and he had made his.
Vang tilted its head down and they began the descent. The fire pit in Murkwell was not burning for the first time in his memory. Were they all seeking safety in the burrows underneath?
He would check on them soon but first he had to send a message. To the heroes. To everyone. A message they would never forget.
Vang dove deep, pulling back at the last moment and letting its wings unfurl as it coasted high into the air. They billowed like sails, rocketing the golden creature high above Skullheyden’s walls.
“Ready?” Vang invaded Witt’s mind.
“Ready,” Witt answered.
The city was quiet except for the flapping of the dragon’s wings. Windows in the inns and houses glowed a dull yellow. The occasional vagabond or thief lurched around the city. Two guards stopped their patrol and pointed at the dragon. In a moment, they would set the alarm, but it would already be too late.
Witt’s legs grew hot as the flying furnace he rode roared to life. Flames poured from Vang’s mouth, setting The Merry Minotaur ablaze. The wooden beams ignited in an instant, and the flames leapt to the surrounding buildings. It only took seconds for the entire inn to collapse.
The kobold image in Witt’s vision pulsed with activity as heroes met their doom. The Messy Unicorn Tavern was the next to go, followed by The Sour Turtle Inn, The Rusty Pickaxe Inn, The Singing Stag, and The Ghastly Dog Inn. They caught fire like a match to tinder.
Screams tore at the night. Fiery bodies ran into the streets and collapsed on the cobblestone. Witt felt no remorse.
Before the alarms had sounded, half of the inns and taverns sat in ruin. Dozens of heroes perished in the flames, and with their respawn point denied, there was no telling where they would end up.
As the flames brought the city to life, Witt’s heart filled with ice.
He pulled up his notifications, watching the death toll rise.
Notifications:
You have killed a level 12 hero. X3
You have killed a level 9 hero. X2
You have killed a level 13 hero.
You have killed a level 8 hero. X5
The numbers ticked up by the second. As screams faded, the scroll unraveled longer and longer and his villain points continued to accumulate. He was sure there were many surprises in store for him.
The world beneath him burned. Vang hovered in the air, violent fire spewing from its mouth burning shops and homes.
As smoke filled the air, blocking his vision of the carnage, Witt couldn’t help but think that maybe Kessy’s death had been for something.
There was no longer a path for Witt to follow. The time had come to forge his own.
He took a final look at the burning city, then he and Vang disappeared into the night.
Epilogue
The moon shined bright overhead, casting the throne room of The Cursed Catacombs in a silver glow. Witt sat on a throne carved from melted rock, his lute draped across his legs. Vang lay curled up on the rubble behind him, its snores shaking the room with each exhale.
A pebble fell from the hole in the mountain above. It clattered against the stone floor, coming to stop at Witt’s feet.
“Can’t you use the entrance like a normal kobold?” Witt turned his gaze upward.
Razul leapt down from the opening, landing with a soft thud. He eyed the sleeping dragon before flashing Witt a smile. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“What news do you have for me tonight?”
Razul came closer, taking a seat on a large piece of the crumbled ceiling. “Rumors, nothing more.”
“And what of these rumors?” Witt’s gaze bored into the rogue.
“Your reputation continues to grow. Heroes from far lands have begun the journey to claim the bounty on your head.” He smirked. “Long live The Kobold King.”
Let them try. No one has made it past the second level of The Cursed Catacombs, and with each new death, my dungeon grows stronger.
Witt stroked his chin. “Find out what you can about these new heroes. Inform Zirn, and make sure he makes the proper arrangements.”
Razul nodded, and with a small bow, he disappeared into the hallway.
Witt leaned back against his throne. He’d made a formidable fortress within Corvin Mountain. After his rampage through Skullheyden, he’d been able to lay claim to the dungeon. Now, it was filled with fearsome monsters, cunning kobolds, and traps beyond measure. Every day it grew stronger. His people were safe and protected within its quarters.
Many an angry hero had come looking for vengeance. All had failed.
Vang stirred behind Witt. “Interesting.” Its voice invaded his mind. “We have a visitor.”
Witt shrugged. “What of it? The dungeon grows stronger by the day. They’ve barely even scratched the surface of what we have in store.”
“This one comes bearing a gift.”
Witt activated Dungeon Vision and found himself looking through the eyes of a kobold guard. He peered through the slat in the enchanted door Zirn had installed. A human clad in all black waited on the other side. A cowl concealed the stranger’s face.
Witt took control of the kobold’s body. “The dungeon is closed until the break of dawn. What do you want?”
The stranger lifted a hand and showed a rope that disappeared behind his body. “I come with an offering for The Kobold King.”
He jerked on the rope and a dwarf stumbled forward. Rope bound his hands, arms, chest, and mouth.
Witt’s heart pounded in his ears and for a moment he lost track of what the stranger was saying. His focus was on Stu. The silver clasps in the dwarf’s red beard clinked as he struggled to speak.
A pleasant chill ran down Witt’s spine as he opened the door, allowing the stranger entry.
Witt instructed the guard to escort them to the throne room and returned to his own body. His hands shook with malevolence. With his newfound abilities, he’d put a bounty on Stu’s head. For weeks, the dwarf had remained hidden. However, the stranger had managed to do what others could not.
He paced around the room, Vang’s eyes following his movement. When he heard the patter of feet from down the hall, Witt returned to his throne.
The guard waited at the door and the stranger entered pulling the dwarf behind him. Stu’s eyes spread wide when he laid eyes on Witt. He struggled to run, but the stranger pulled him back, kicking the dwarf behind the knees and forcing him to kneel.
The stran
ger then knelt beside the dwarf, and lowered his head.
“Stand,” ordered Witt. “Stand, and reveal yourself so that you may claim your reward.”
The stranger stood. “This is not a claim for bounty. I desire more than that.”
Vang lifted its head, and the stranger stepped back.
“Careful, stranger.” Witt leaned forward. “You do not make demands of a king.”
The stranger bowed. “You are right. I meant no offense.” He tossed the rope that bound Stu in front of him. “This is a gift.”
The stranger removed his cowl, revealing a plain face with a scar under the right eye. He was the bandit Witt had spared the night they ambushed the caravan. “I have paid my dues, and I wish to join your cause.”
“So it begins.” Vang rose to its feet, stepping down from the mound of rubble and sniffing the bandit. The bandit kept his eyes focused on Witt. “He speaks the truth.”
Witt nodded. “Very well. I think we may find use for your talents.” He turned to the guard. “Take the dwarf to the cells. I will deal with him later. When you are done, send a message to Razul. I have found him an apprentice.”
Stu’s screams lingered in Witt’s mind. They comforted him in a way nothing else had. Midway through, the dwarf’s eyes had gone vacant. It didn’t matter though, Witt had still had his fun.
As he made his way back to the throne room, Vang invaded his mind once again. “There is something you should see.”
Witt called back to the dragon but received no response. He quickened his pace, climbing stairs as fast as he could.
In the throne room, Hux, Mido, and two guards stood beside a short paladin wearing red armor. A burlap sack concealed the hero’s features. Witt scowled. What importance could a gnome or halfling have that was worth bringing them before him?
Hux bowed to Witt as he entered. “This one tried to complete the dungeon alone. We halted our attacks, and barred the gate as soon as we realized what she was.”
Witt frowned, anger rising up inside of him. “What does it matter what she is? She’s a hero. They can all rot in the catacombs.”
Vang laughed, its deep voice shaking the throne room.
“What’s so funny?” Witt snapped. He had no time for games with heroes.
“I think you should see for yourself.” Hux removed the sack from the paladin’s head.
A reptilian face looked at Witt. Dark-black scales faded to red around her snout, and two ivory horns jutted upwards just behind her ears.
“My lord.” The kobold paladin nodded, unable to move anything else due to the guards holding her in place. “I have come in search of a quest.”
Witt stared at the kobold hero before him, a smile creeping at the edge of his face. “I may have a task…”
Acknowledgments
Thank you, dear reader, for checking out Path to Villainy. What began as a simple attempt to take my mind off of the chaos of 2020 quickly morphed in the book you’re holding right now. Watching Witt transform from a doe-eyed kobold to unapologetic villain was some of the most fun I’ve had in my writing career. If you would like to see more of Witt and his path to villainy, make sure to leave a review. Reviews are the lifeblood of indie authors like myself and help provide social proof that this story is worth taking a chance on.
Many people had a hand in the creation of this book, so sit back while I roll the credits.
Thank you to Scotty for being an incredible friend throughout all of this, not just with Path to Villainy, but with everything that has happened this year. Here’s to many more nights of fun and gaming.
Cindy, just like with every other story, you have helped give these characters their beating hearts and emotional depth.
Thank you to my Patreon supporters who continue to believe and support me even when I’m writing slow and behind schedule. Tim Krason, Michael Percell, Eric Sprague, Heather Jarvis, Jesse Frazel, Robert Schaefer, Frank Pisauro, Lawrence Novak, Rickie Brookes.
Thank you to my beta readers: Tony Gallo, Bri Bish, Steven Gene Mills, Garith Ro, John Vann, Brandon Pyatt, Dennis Heizelman, Ozzie Azuna.
I owe a great deal to everyone in S.L. Rowland’s Secret Society for the character names and direction of this story.
Anthony Westenberg for naming “Whit” who eventually became “Witt.”
Bill Shupe who suggested Witt’s class be a skald.
Bri Bish for naming “Cerent” and also suggesting Kobold as the race.
James Miller and John Smith for suggesting an evil plotline or evil MC.
Michael Percell for naming “Schekt.”
Asher James Rickard for naming the dragon “Vang.”
Tim Parkinson, for Vang’s title “The Undying.”
If you’re looking for more books similar to my own, check out the Gamelit Society and LitRPG Books, two of the best places for all things Gamelit and LitRPG.Thank again!
Until next time…
About the Author
S.L. Rowland is a nomad. Born in the South, he loves traveling and has road-tripped coast to coast three times over. He currently lives in St. Louis with his Shiba Inu, Lawson. When not writing, he enjoys hiking, reading, weightlifting, playing video games and having his heart broken by various Atlanta sports teams.
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Path to Villainy: An NPC Kobold's Tale Page 14