Seventh Realm Part 1: A LitRPG Fantasy series (The Ten Realms Book 8)

by Michael Chatfield

  “I intend to use your sparrows to drop fast and quick, come in low to rake the enemy in open ground where they have a greater chance to counterattack. In tight quarters where our mortars can't reach, I hope to employ your kestrels. Your air force will play a vital role in the coming fight. Also, the spotters will not be just looking for the enemy. We will be using the new spell trap dispersal mortars.” Domonos looked at Zukal. “Do you want to talk about them? You know more about them than me.”

  “Sure.”

  Zukal stepped forward. “The spell trap dispersal shells are just what they sound like. Fired from a mortar, these shells explode in mid air, releasing spell trap formations over a one-hundred-meter area. We can use them ahead of the enemy and cover a lot of ground. While their mana barriers can cover the sky, the trap formations will be under their feet. They get within range, the formation activates just like any other spell trap formation.

  “We know where they’re coming from. Our people are surveying the land and laying in some surprises. They'll wait for the main body to arrive and act as spotters, call in fire, guiding it onto the sects.”

  The lieutenants looked at the map, and to Colonel Domonos.

  “Organize your people and coordinate with the air force. Use teleportation pads and personal mounts where possible, kestrels where it's not possible. Make sure they have exfil plans. We're going to need them back here. Once the enemy is in the valley, our artillery platoons can hit them without needing spotters. Kestrels will be used to leapfrog the artillery units to pre-set firing positions. Sparrows will do strafing and bombing runs continuously. They're going to have to move through the treeline. We'll hammer them the entire way, just as we did against the Blood Demon Sect! Defense in depth with overlapping devastating mortar fire and spell traps!”

  Major Hall raised his hand. “They're going to find our spell traps, though. It was only the explosives they couldn’t find. They thought that they were spells when it was actually chemicals.”

  “Once they catch on, we won't have to use as many. If we throw down one or two random shells of spell traps, won't they need to move slower to make sure they find all the spell traps?” Domonos asked.

  Hall pressed his lips together.

  Even if there were no spell traps, how would they know? It would weaken them initially and slow them from then on. Devious. Kanoa looked at the officers around the table. A shiver ran through his body and the hairs on the back of his neck raised. At one time, he had looked down on these men, believing them to be immature and playing at being soldiers. They learned the hard way.

  Kanoa mentally chastised himself. They were all Alvans now. No matter where we started.

  Domonos kept talking. “If the enemy runs forward without caring about them, then we sow them as dense as the fields on the Earth Floor.”

  Major Choi raised his hand. “The road?”

  Domonos smiled and stood upright. “Well, Major Choi, you were here when the Blood Demon Sect came knocking. We're just gonna go big with it.” Domonos turned to the others. “For those of you that don't know, we have pre-sighted artillery positions covering every inch of the Eastern and Western roads.” Domonos pointed out the positions. “Spell traps and explosives lay ready under the ground. What's worse than being at the edge of a minefield? Being right in the middle of one.”

  He tapped farther down the west road, ahead of the red mass heading for Vuzgal, and swept forward. “We'll let them advance into the minefield. When we hit the other locations, we’ll switch it on and hammer the piss out of them with artillery. If they want to go backward, they're welcome to activate every damn trap we've laid.” Domonos turned to the men as he gave his orders. “Major Choi, you get the roads. Major Mitchell, you’re in charge of the south. Hall, you have the north. Major Moretti, you will be running support here in Vuzgal.”

  The majors nodded.

  “Kanoa, you will be in support under my direct command. Your people may be seconded to other units as needed.”

  “Sir.”

  Domonos looked at Roska. “Special Team Two will support artillery in the north and south. Special Team Three will remain here to protect Rugrat. I’m told that he will wake up soon. I know he won't want to miss this fight.”

  Roska smiled.

  “All right, I want the first group of spotters heading out before it gets dark. There are fifty thousand coming down each road, so there must be another two hundred thousand moving through the mountain passes. I want to know where every last one of them is.”

  Corporal Nicholas Landrith stifled a yawn as he and the rest of his team waited, their Kestrel coming to land on the pad in front of them.

  “I heard that other special teams were taking teleportation formations,” Private Zhan Kun said.

  “That's just for the locations that you can access with teleportation formations,” Landrith said.

  “Great, up a fucking mountain. I was wondering why they told us to check our cold-weather gear.”

  “You bitching again, Zhan?” Sergeant Cao asked, returning from his talk with the other scout squad sergeants.

  “Why couldn't we take the teleportation formations?”

  “I see that's a yes, and because we're the best spotters they have. We've done cross-training with the artillery platoons so recently that you haven't even forgotten it all!” Cao's presence brought the rest of the squad over. “We're heading out soon. Everyone has two weeks of food and water, right?”

  They held up their arms in agreement.

  “Good! We'll recon different spots and drop off pairs at the best locations we can find that you can exfil on your own. You all remember your mission brief?”

  “Watch for the enemy. Confirm enemy routes. Emplace traps. Call in mortar fire on the enemy once given the command!” They repeated together, a mix of boredom and drudgery filling each word.

  “Good, I'm so happy to know you're excited and focused,” Cao crowed in mock-joy.

  “Ready to load!” The kestrel's rear ramp gunner called out to them, standing to the side of the ramp.

  The first squad moved, heading for the ramp.

  “Come on!” Cao was serious as he pulled on his helmet and followed the first group. Two other squads followed as they ran into the kestrel's cabin, grabbing onto the handholds above.

  The ramp gunner was the last in. He tapped a formation. The ramp grew back into place as the tree arm supporting his repeater swung back. “Good to go, Chief!”

  “Got it. Hold on to your lunches; they're firing up the launch formation.”

  “He knows it's not even morning yet, right?” Zhan said.

  “Zhan, buddy, shut up,” Basheer said as she got comfortable and closed her eyes.

  Zhan grimaced, but shut up.

  Landrith looped his fingers under his vest and leaned against the cabin's side, looking at the rear gunner, who was making sure his repeater could move side to side, up and down.

  The two side door gunners were hooked into their harnesses. One passed a packet of herbs to the other.

  Some things were the same the world over. At least this chew was just to increase stamina and wake people up. Hell, they were using birds to imitate fighter jets and Chinooks.

  Landrith wasn't from the Ten Realms, but an Earther who had been about to finish his final accounting exams when he contracted the Two-Week Curse and appeared in the First Realm. Now he was heading off into some mountains to call in artillery on the sorry bastards who wanted to kill their people and take their land. Feels like some medieval magi-tech screwed-up world. Shit, I sound like Zhan now.

  The kestrel extended her wings. The formations underneath powered up, pushing them slowly into the air. The kestrel added her own strength as they rapidly ascended. The kestrel flew out of the formation's area of effect, picking up speed and altitude.

  Landrith looked out over the rear of the cabin. Other squads were still loading up on their kestrels. Formations were lighting up, pushing the first loaded Kestrels up into th
e air.

  One of the door gunners talked into Cao's ear against the wind.

  Cao stood up and grabbed the handholds, using them to walk toward the cockpit to where the other squad's sergeant was sitting.

  Hope you find the bastards and make it easier for me.

  Landrith closed his eyes and tucked his chin into his vest.

  He must've fallen asleep as he felt the bird jolt.

  “First two prepare for drop off!” Cao's voice came through all their sound transmission devices.

  The ramp gunner hit the formation, causing the ramp to regrow and swinging his gun to the side.

  “We won't be touching down. Cliff is too steep! One minute!”

  Landrith was next to the door gunner. He looked out into the cold wind; mountain ranges stretched ahead of him. It was an impressive sight of nature, stone and land that had turned into waves, crashing into one another, and ascending into the heavens.

  He pulled his cold-weather gear tighter against the wet wind. They were closing in on the side of a mountain. The first two scouts stood up and were ready at the ramp. The gunners watched for threats.

  The kestrel turned and beat her wings, slowing their speed and bringing them to a hover in mid-air with the ramp just feet from the ground.

  Landrith let out a snort. “Shit, that is some piloting and flying.” He patted the cabin.

  “Move it!” Cao yelled.

  The two scouts ran off the ramp and jumped onto the cliff that would be their temporary home.

  One held his repeater up in his hands.

  “We're clear,” Cao said. The kestrel left the cliff and climbed again, looking for another perch to drop more scouts on.

  27

  Artillery Moves

  Rugrat felt the mana thrumming throughout his chest and his body. His mana core had graduated upward into his left chest cavity, transforming into a second heart, a mana heart.

  The mana within his veins had condensed into liquid. His mana veins became perfected, interweaving and interlinking with his circulatory system. One would not be wrong in saying he was a man with two hearts, two sets of lungs, and two circulatory systems. His mana gates drew in mana from the surroundings, much like lungs drew in air.

  He moved his hands. Controlling mana was like moving a muscle he hadn’t used in a long time or didn’t know it existed. Before it was like waving his hands in the air and expecting to make ripples in the water.

  The surrounding formations dimmed as the mana gathering formations pulled it down into Vuzgal.

  Rugrat unlocked the pod, and the formations powered down as he rotated forward. The front of the pod opened as two medics helped him out.

  “Situation?” he rasped, his throat painfully dry.

  A medic fed him water as Tanya passed him an information book. Rugrat opened it and drew in the information contained inside. He staggered with the overload and forced himself upright. A medic readied a needle.

  “Hold off. You can use that on others.” Rugrat staggered to the tray where his gear was kept. He used a clean spell and grabbed his storage ring, pulling out a tube. He tore it open and poured the wet oatmeal textured food into his mouth, swallowing it as he quickly started to recover.

  “Qin?”

  “Qin is helping to manufacture more bombs,” Tanya said.

  “You have more important things to do than watch me put my pants on,” Rugrat said as he grabbed his clothes.

  “Yes, sir.” Tanya looked at the rest of the people in the room. They quickly left, heading up to Vuzgal.

  Rugrat got dressed, finishing four more of the high calorie stamina recovery tubes.

  “Kind of like applesauce, or baby food. So much better than Chicken-ala-king,” Rugrat said to Han Wu and his half special team that was waiting there.

  “What’s the plan, boss?”

  Rugrat checked his time piece. “Scouts are already deployed; artillery is preparing to move. Roska is supporting them already. See if she wants to take the north. We’ll take the south and support Arty.”

  “Can ask,” Han Wu said.

  Han Wu used his sound transmission device as Rugrat checked his map. Scout squads had created a ring around Vuzgal Valley, covering the north and south. The artillery platoons and support-platoons- turned-artillery platoons were set to leave in the afternoon.

  There were still a few hours to go. Rugrat checked the map. Good plan. The sensing formations didn’t reach that far, but their mortars would—guided in by the sharpshooter’s coordinates.

  Han Wu finished on the sound transmission device. “They say we’re good.”

  “Sweet. When do we step off?”

  “Four hours. Colonel Domonos wants to meet you at the second airfield.”

  Rugrat’s mana radiated through his entire body, power beating in his very cells. His veins glowed with power as he looked at Han Wu. “Sounds good to me. Hell, I wonder just how powerfully I could enhance a mortar shell.”

  The eyes of the others darkened as they circulated their own mana, feeling the power that had laid dormant, ready, waiting, and wishing to be freed.

  Rugrat was looking out of the window at the waiting kestrels as the door opened. Domonos walked in and saluted.

  “Am I supposed to salute you, or vice versa?” Rugrat asked, returning the salute and reaching out his hand.

  “Hell if I know.” Domonos shrugged as he shook Rugrat's hand.

  “You're in charge of Vuzgal. I'm just your backup. Good to see you back home.”

  “Thanks.” Domonos smiled and sighed. “You really want to go out there?”

  “Sure. You have Roska's team support to the north. Special Team Three and I will go to the south.”

  “All right, then I have one more request.”

  “What is it?” Rugrat looped his fingers into his belt, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  “Speech.”

  “Huh?”

  “Talk to the troops. They're going into a fight that's going to be nasty as hell. Hearing from you might boost their morale.”

  Rugrat sighed. “All right, for fear of saving them from some damn general that talks for three fucking hours. I'll do it.”

  “Good, let’s go,” Domonos said.

  “Great.”

  Rugrat followed him. They reached a balcony overlooking artillery platoons that were ready to board kestrels. Others checked gear and ammunition, preparing to leave after them.

  They must be the support platoons.

  “Form up!” Officers called their platoons into position facing Rugrat.

  Other officers were waiting for him and Domonos at the balcony. They had set up a sound transmission formation.

  “Once this is activated, it will broadcast to all Alva military sound transmission devices. Even the scouts in the field and recon flights will hear you,” a lieutenant said. Behind him, the groups were moving through drills.

  “What about the Associations?” Rugrat asked.

  “We sweep the bases constantly and there are formations that stop any noise from leaving. They're all active.”

  Rugrat nodded. The platoons settled in the at ease position with their repeaters. Their legs spread out at shoulder width as they pushed their repeater out with one arm and held the other down at their side, their eyes locked on the balcony.

  Domonos stepped up to the sound transmission device. “Attention all members of the Alva Military! Lord Rugrat, who will be joining you in the field, has a few words he wants to say.”

  Domonos turned to Rugrat.

  Thanks for the lead up!

  Rugrat exhaled through his nose, looking at the ranks of soldiers. “Today I stand here among fellow Alvans. All of us have come from somewhere else and chose to become Alvans. The Alvan Nation was nothing more than a village when we started. Now, we control a kingdom, a city state, and too many fucking dungeons to count. Seriously, I think Erik went a little nuts with that.”

  The soldiers grinned and laughed as Rugrat became serious
once again.

  “Alvans took Vuzgal with their very blood. We defended it when it was nothing but broken walls. Since then, your families, your friends, and your fellow Alvans have put their determination, sweat and lives into Vuzgal, building it into the proud city you see before you. Vuzgal is ours by blood, and if those sects think that they can take it from us, they don't know a fucking thing! You have gathered your mana, endured and tempered your bodies as your leaders have trained your minds and ingrained into you the skills you need.”

  Rugrat paused, hearing repeater butts hit the ground. Pride burned in his chest as he gritted his teeth, stabbing his finger out at them. “You are Vuzgal's wall. You are Alva's sword. You are the mother fucking Alva Military!”

  Roars and yells came from across the defenses, across the bases.

  “We do not fight for riches; we fight for our people! We do not train for our own gain; we train to lift up one another! Trust in yourselves, trust in Alva, trust in one another! And kill the bastards that want to kill your brothers and sisters on either side!”

  Repeaters slammed into the ground again. The military yelled out, building into a chant.

  “Al-va, Al-va, Alva, Alva!”

  Rugrat joined in and smacked his chest, the noise ringing out across Vuzgal.

  “Shoulder arms!” His Marine drill instructor voice rocked Vuzgal as his body glowed with mana. Each and every soldier's cultivation was pumping out, distorting the mana in the air.

  Repeaters snapped up into the ready position.

  “To your duties! Dis-missed!”

  Those ready turned to their right, slamming their feet into the reinforced stone ground so hard it cracked in places.

  They marched off as a single being. Soldiers headed into the depths to take teleportation formations to the forward artillery positions or headed to the air force strips to board kestrels.

  “Move it!” The Artillery Platoon's Second Lieutenant Couto yelled as everyone streamed out the rear of the kestrel.

  Rugrat and Special Team Three ran down the kestrel’s ramp into the forest as the platoon broke into individual squads and spread out to get ready for the second part of their journey.