Isekai Magus: A LitRPG Progression Saga

by Han Yang

  She adjusted her leather tunic, tightening the cleavage inducing neckline. “I’ve grown less voluptuous and her more so. The champion picked her and not me, and yes, I understand we have a reason to not be together. But if I were an outsider, I’d think the matriarch of the champion would be his head priestess.”

  We left the pines, heading uphill on a gray stone road. The mountains dominated the landscape, and in the far distance I could see shining armor reflecting sunlight.

  “Okay, but I still call you my head priestess and never plot or plan to replace you from your position,” I said, telling her the truth.

  “I know because Tarla said she wants to go with you,” Bell said, and I gasped.

  “Shit,” I blurted in dismay.

  “Yup,” Bell said.

  Asha chuckled and added, “Take me too, because I’d rather not die. Then there’s Jark.”

  “Ouch. Yeah, there’s still so much we don’t know,” I said with a sigh. “And let me clarify. Not shit ‘that’s bad that a woman wants to follow me to a different planet. That’s amazing and crazy. Shit because no way Caitlyn will let that happen for free.”

  “And hence my confession about why we suddenly get along. I agree with Asha. You impress me with your lack of immediate greed. I also thought it was silly you let the goblins give you a shopping list. At first anyway, the trolls I understood, and then I thought about it,” Bell said, smiling.

  “Yes, well, we’re a team. Our people… our team members have needs. The goblins are literally going to become baby factories with that forest milk,” I said.

  “Yup, the more I pondered the situation, the more I understood your reasoning. But Damien, make no mistake, as we go north, there will be a reduction in easy to harvest Z. Our spending habits will have to be curtailed,” Bell warned.

  I sighed with a nod. “We have threats on all sides, and honestly, I may drive us back into strivian lands,” I admitted.

  “And what, conquer troll outposts?” Asha asked.

  The thought had crossed my mind. Seven days of boring travel gave a man plenty of time to plot and plan.

  “Today will hold a lot of sway over what comes next. This trade will open doors or shut them, and we will adjust accordingly. However…” I wagged a finger to emphasize my point. “Growing our power should be considered, and if we can use a barely trained force in a surprise attack against an untrained force, we should.”

  “The dwarves are going to want more than a thousand Z for all that you want,” Bell said.

  Asha shook his head and said, “We won’t know until we try. Speculating only helps so much.”

  A company of dwarves riding rams hurried out to cut off our approach. We let the time pass by, continuing lighter conversation while enjoying the early morning rays. Eventually, we arrived at an imaginary line on the mountainside where the dwarves paused.

  The dwarven cavalry sat atop burly rams with thickly curled horns. The mounts went armorless and shuffled in apprehension at our approach. If I had to guess, they realized Asha was not natural.

  The dwarves calmed their mounts. Their beards of red, gray, and black went to chest level in multiple braids. Their armor gleamed, reflecting the sun brightly. The craftsmanship of the gear marveled anything I had seen before. Even the looted armor paled in comparison to the intricate engravings of hammer, smiths, and images of battle.

  Each of the warriors gruffly stared at our approach, resolute in their grumpiness, refusing to budge when I smiled with a wave.

  “State your purpose,” the lead dwarf said.

  Again, his voice did not match his words, telling me the gods translated. His mannerisms were clear, though. We needed to halt and explain ourselves. I yanked back on the mare’s reins, stopping the wagon.

  “My team member said he spoke with the guards about a trade. I bring a wagon full of fresh meat, skins, damaged armor ripe for repair, and even live strivian animals for breeding,” I said. The last bit caused him to raise an eyebrow. “Just a river snake with feet and maybe this pup we rescued.”

  “Alright, clearly you're the first of the two parties. Bit early,” he said with a grumble. Off handedly, he asked, “How was it? We got time before you can approach anyway.”

  I leaned forward from the driver’s seat, sticking my elbow on my knees. I had mulled over how much to tell them. Half-truths seemed the best.

  “I was locked away from adventuring for decades. When my oaths finished, I found more adventure than I cared for,” I said with a sad expression. “It started with a hard fought battle against a small herd of centaurs, each of us increasing our magical prowess. We lost a good man that day, but I’m finally getting to improve.”

  “Pfft,” a younger lad behind the main guard exclaimed. “Try finding no adventure.”

  “Bart, shut yer yap. Please continue Mr…”

  “I’m Damien, that lovely priestess is Bell, and this is our scout Asha.”

  “Gronbri, and this is the Ramstars,” he said proudly of his unit. I desperately wanted to laugh at their name, but held in my reaction. “Please continue with the tales of the strivian lands.”

  I smiled and said, “I could always use a friend and will tell you and your wonderful warriors of my journey for free. I’d even pass out the ale if we had any.”

  “Here, here,” the dwarves grumbled in appreciation.

  I launched into the tale of leaving Tarb and being chased by a grizzly bear we had hunted. Our pursuit had led us into a skirmish with centaurs, near a minotaur city, and through a goblin village.

  Bell delivered the basket containing the snake creatures, and the dwarves all took turns looking into the weaved basket.

  A horn sounded from up the mountain, and Gronbri had us follow him. “Each of the traders are good kin, worthy of selling you items you need. In exchange for the tale, I’ll warn you off the largest vendor on the left. As times have grown tough, he has squeezed the little vendors out, cornering the market.”

  Inwardly, I groaned. Outwardly, I smiled with a nod. Of course I wanted to buy goods cheap and in bulk. Me saving the dwarven economy was -

  I gasped at what awaited us as we crested the hill, arriving at a plateau that leveled off. The mountainside stretched wide left to right and a thirty foot wall protected double sets of steel doors that towered a hundred feet high.

  Atop the wall, thousands if not tens of thousands of dwarves stood, observing the trading outside their city. Banners snapped in the wind, and a dwarven unit perched in saddles on griffins.

  I was stunned. The sheer power was enough to defeat the cyclops and crush the minotaurs.

  Yet this army grew in might as it waited.

  Then it dawned on me.

  A lot of these dwarves were aged. Their different appearance and excessive armor hid a lot of the faults. Our thousand Zorta would probably turn back the time for a good portion of this army. I had only needed around five Zorta to become sixty years younger.

  “I know it's not my place, but there were five cyclops at the base of the valley only a week away. Probably worth a thousand Zorta each,” I said in dismay.

  “We know. We may shelter in our walls, but we know of just about everything that occurs outside our hold, and I appreciate you retelling most of your story accurately,” Gronbri said.

  “The oaths protect me,” I all but stammered.

  “Aye, they do, and you’ll be safe. We actually care not who comes to our doors at the moment. Even the centaurs could trade with us and we would accept their wares. We have our ways, and you have yours,” Gronbri said.

  For good measure, he added, “I’d share a beer with a necromancer. Did you know that Dwarves can be born necromancers?” he asked, and I shook my head. “We have healers too. A dwarf dies, and he happens to be unable to find a healer in time. A necromancer raises him, when a healer is available they restore them. Your elva’s hair and eyes give it away. Plus, elva are right assholes and hate humans. Dead giveaway. Get it?”

  Th
e unit roared out a laugh at his pun, and I flushed.

  All this time I had thought I had some special formula. While I was two in one special, I hadn’t discovered something unique, merely unknown to me.

  I have a feeling they know more than they’re saying. The casual nature of the admittance, the nonchalant posture. Yeah, his smirk is giving me a warning, as if he wants me to cue in.

  “Hey, um… Hmm… I’m looking to establish a home not far away, and yeah, I’ll have an army if I keep fighting,” I admitted.

  “Figured as much, and why I was the one who greeted you. Official title is Ambassador Gronbri. You came to our gates in good faith and omitted truths to protect your unique nature. I’ll be warning ya now. It only takes one knowledgeable human to figure out what you are,” Gronbri said, and the other dwarves snickered.

  “Ah, because knowledgeable humans are rare,” I said, and they nodded.

  “Now, fret not. We sorely need Zorta and welcome any traders who gather it for us,” he said, urging his ram forward to pet the mare. He smiled up at me and added, “The dwarves may trade with Nara, but we have grudges entombed in stone from before the great cataclysm. Those who slighted our holds still live too. Not far to go. Keep up.”

  I couldn’t help but feel intimidated as we approached the mighty walls with the bristling guards. A message was being sent - tell the minotaurs what you see. Tell all the strivians that the dwarves are going to one day leave their holds, and when they do, their might will crush all in their way.

  “Before we start trading, I have someone I need you to meet, though. Mostly because you need to meet her before the hundreds of humans arrive,” Gronbri said.

  We shifted under a massive entry. The spikes of a portcullis dangled above. The thick wall had a series of steel doors. In the distance, a courtyard opened up with the half circle wall protecting the space.

  Vendors shifted goods out of the wide open doors, carting supplies to set up for the day. Most of the dwarves wore simple robes and goofy wide brimmed hats. Their bushy eyebrows were not enough to keep the sun out of their eyes. Most were pale, a few held white hair, and not from old age.

  I spied female dwarves who held soft and supple curves. The dreaded ugly bearded females were false on Nordan, and their outfits reminded me of the 1920’s summer dress style.

  The youth hustled much the same as teenagers would in a human city. Rams, mares, and even a bear hauled out goods to trade. Our wagon parted the stations, heading toward the large opening within the courtyard.

  A large scale and stage rested near a market building. If I had to guess, the dwarves used this space between the main hold doors and the towering walls as a sunning area. Gronbri led us by it all and headed for the scale.

  “Your goods will be auctioned here. Your items are guaranteed safe, and the transactions will be accounted for with only a five percent tax,” Gronbri said, and I nodded in understanding. He shook his head when I didn’t catch his meaning. “Get off the wagon. Your goods are going to be sold.”

  “Ah,” I said, carrying the cerberus runt in my arms.

  Bell dismounted Charlie, hitching him to a post. Immediately, she was swarmed with questions about the horse’s legacy. I eyed the horse, never thinking of selling him. I bet that might change with how interested these dwarves were.

  She managed to free herself from the throng of eager buyers. A team went to work, sorting our trade items onto the stage. Gronbri snapped a finger to have us follow him.

  We left the open market for the interior of the dwarven hold. The massive openings were daunting, and I wondered what they kept in here that required doors so tall.

  INTERMISSION 1

  Litroo

  Toneba

  He awoke in confusion, a bulging pain in his forehead ever so slowly abated. Toneba knew he died. He knew his last breath was taken and his body forfeit to Arax for safe keeping.

  “Why?” he said, shaking his head. “Why am I alive? Why?”

  He repeated the why, clutching a wooden object in front of him. Toneba immediately realized he wasn’t old anymore, his squeeze devoid of arthritic pain.

  After a dozen blinks, Toneba’s eyes cleared. He found himself sitting in a pew, the fog in his mind fading at a gradual rate. His eyes worked wonderfully, the need to squint constantly no longer present.

  He spun around, seeking the reasons for this interruption to his great sleep.

  A church, yes, he recognized this as an Arax church. One or the first ones from before the cataclysm. He recalled a time when Mariee led him through these sacred doors. Right now, a portal shimmered golden, pew were empty, and a great statue of Arax dominated the head of the church.

  “Oh, Arax, why did you let the world go to shit,” Toneba muttered. A question he often repeated to the greatest of gods. He glanced down at his hands, noting out loud, “My skin coloring is off.”

  “Welcome,” a disembodied voice said. The walls themself spoke and Toneba frowned in displeasure. “You’ve been a devout believer since the early days. I apologize you missed my notice earlier and your skin tone is off because you're a new you.”

  “Who are you? Where am I? What have you done to my body?” Toneba asked rapidly. He spun, not finding the source of this magical voice. It started to don on him, but the man was stubborn, finding it hard to accept this reality.

  “My name is Arax, you are in Litroo, and you are being given a second chance. Would you like to know more or go back to the soul pits?” Arax asked, his tone containing an edge of impatience.

  “Why bring me back?”

  “Ah, I actually hadn’t intended to. I lost a champion to a high priestess assassination. My own, no less. They converted away from me. A rare occurrence of a different god whispering into their ears. I’ll never know which of the new gods did it, because the Zorta was stolen, and the high priestess banished to Earth,” Arax said with a sigh.

  “I do not understand?” Toneba said in dismay.

  He didn’t believe he would ever speak to Arax. The great and fabled god would always be beyond his status. Except, he actually felt a connection to the voice, one that spoke of power and servitude.

  “You died. Alone and forgotten besides a notice on my page of millions who were devout and perished. There’s too many believers to track sometimes. But… you came with a caveat. You died, and some foolish god utilized your corpse during her inept spell. Yes, Toneba, a champion of Ostriva assumed your flesh, reaped innocent lives in your Yew Wood, and extorted dear Desra,” Arax said, his voice oozing with disdain and hatred.

  “I again, do not understand. Forgive me, my benevolent Lord.”

  “An Ostriva necromancer inhabits your body, twisting it into his image, reaping the flesh of the dead with his ghouls, and he must be stopped,” Arax said in a commanding tone.

  Toneba frowned and not just because his body had become a vessel for an evil entity, but also because Arax seemed to be a range of emotions. He always figured his god would be benevolent, wise, and compassionate.

  Toneba could resonate with the god’s anger. Only a demon would unleash a necromancer upon humanity, and that must be stopped.

  “I see clearer than ever before, and not because I’m young again. Which god has allowed such filth onto our sacred lands?” Toneba asked from between clenched teeth.

  “Unknown, and will remain unknown for quite some time. They have a head start on you. I sent agents to catch them, fearing awakening a champion, and my faithful failed,” Arax said.

  “Champion?” Toneba questioned.

  “Yes, as told earlier, I find myself with a sudden opening and in need of a faithful servant. I’ll make you an offer,” Arax said and Toneba fidgeted in excitement.

  The man lived his life for his god, and any task would be a blessing of its own. He had sought a purpose besides to find Mariee, and now, he was likely going to get both.

  “End the champion, donate the Zorta to my church, and I will reunite you with Countess Mariee,” Arax
said.

  “End, as in kill…” Toneba said hesitantly. “After losing Mariee I became a complete pacifist and I’m a healer.”

  “You’re not Toneba of Yew Wood. You’re Toneba, Arax’s Champion, Healer and Arcane mage,” the voice boomed with authority.

  Toneba gulped, realizing he had to make a choice. Something he never expected to do was waver from his convictions of peace.

  “Will his demise help the people of Nordan?” Toneba asked, already knowing he would change for his god and his lost love.

  How could he not?

  “Undoubtedly. You will be given a trainer, a priest to aid you, and then a week to march north. The last report we have is the necromancer is heading north for Nara; his trail should be easy to track,” Arax said.

  “And no Mariee now?” he asked, his tone saddening.

  “Heavens no. That is not how this works. I know her location and I need his Zorta. Now, I’m a busy god, Toneba. Kneel before my altar, and pledge your life to ending the man in your body. His name is Damien Moonguard, and your priest will have a drawing of his likeness. Kill him and come back to me for your reward,” Arax said, his voice booming in the empty church.

  “Will I be given coin, or Z, to finance the mission?” Toneba asked and only received silence in return.

  Knowing that he was given a mission and orders from the divine, he knelt before the altar of Arax and pledged to kill Damien Moonguard.

  CHAPTER 29

  Targo Hold

  Marble tile lined a road at least three hundred feet wide that stretched until the image blurred. A hundred intersections dissected the long road, and guards managed traffic much like a stop light would. Wherever this road went, it was busy and meant to showcase the might of the realm with large carvings of mythical creatures, dwarves, and war items.

  I wanted to stop and examine them more closely, but we ducked into a stairwell as soon as we crossed the cavernous threshold. After five flights of stairs, we arrived at a landing with guards in the finest armor imaginable.