Isekai Magus: A LitRPG Progression Saga

by Han Yang

  The doors had mining picks engraved onto them, each tool etching over twenty feet long. Unless the centaurs arrived with a metal battering ram, I had to think we would be fine.

  A goblin cried out, taking an arrow in the back. The young warrior collapsed, losing the use of his legs. I grumbled. The rear troops all had shields and should be facing the threat.

  I closed my eyes and shouted, “Heal area!”

  The expanding wave of green magic rippled over our retreating caravan, repairing those who suffered.

  Bell patted my shoulder before heading into the darkness and said, “Well done, Magus. Impressive spell.”

  She had a point. The ability to area heal in a radiant wave was not natural to a healer at my level.

  A single centaur exited the trees, nearing the opening for where the mountain met the valley.

  I recognized this centaur, and before I could say anything, the lone strivian shouted, “I, Perqueta of no tribe, demand the right to combat against the champion of the unknown god.”

  I huffed, pinching the brow of my nose. Here stood a centaur who had lost everything. He gambled, wanting mares more than all else. He gambled that I wouldn’t betray him, his herd declining when I did. Then his herd’s home became cinders when he left it to summon a hunt for me.

  A warm feeling cascaded through my being, one of joy. He planned to kill me a few times now through deception. Here he stood, ordering a challenge, and I shook my head at his audacity.

  With a smirk, I shouted, “Crossbows, fire.”

  All of our troops who hadn’t entered the mines spun. The snap of forty crossbows echoed into the mines and across the mountainous clearing.

  Perqueta jolted forward, desperate to flee the volley of bolts I had audaciously unleashed. His movements were too slow, and the bolts peppered his body. He didn’t cry out or scream. The projectiles dove into his body, slaying him before he could successfully retreat. His body tumbled like those deer you see getting shot mid run.

  This was not the end he had likely expected, and I didn’t allow him the satisfaction of dying forever.

  “Death is power, and power is everything! Death is power, and power is everything! Death is power, and power is everything!” my chant echoed, increased by the goblins and trolls.

  The sound boomed through the mines and out across the opening.

  I never closed my eyes, linking to Perqueta’s orb. I selected to claim his body as others tried to steal his orb. I quickly paid the six Zorta fee and called upon the ghouls to claim his flesh.

  “Torbard will hear you’re a spineless rabbit!” a centaur taunted.

  “You have no honor, human scum,” another scout shouted. “Our army will break down your gates and defecate on your corpses. See the wrath, it comes!”

  The great herd was easy to track as they neared. The army was so vast, it couldn’t stay on the road, causing birds to jolt into flight when the massive army trampled through the valley forest.

  I ignored the signs that we were running out of time. Ghoulish hands ripped flesh from bone, and a few seconds later, Perquata stood as a skeleton warrior. I summoned him into the mine, adding a second centaur to my ranks. Arrows whistled out, clanking off his bones, doing little to the former chieftain’s frame.

  “If you continue to challenge me, expect death at every corner. Tell your great chieftain Torsmear that the gods are not to be trifled with,” I shouted.

  “Torbard will hear your insult and demand you suffer for your insult,” a scout shouted.

  I was going to argue that I really just messed up the name and that that was common for me, but I let the subject drop.

  The last of the goblins streamed into the mine, crossing the threshold, and I followed them in. The rear guard of the caravan dodged or raised shields for the final salvo that zipped in through the open doors.

  I joined the effort in sealing the doors shut, pushing with all my might to help escape the coming tide of death.

  “That was brutal,” Asha said unhappily.

  “Huh?” I managed as I pushed hard with a grunt.

  The doors protested angrily, fighting our combined effort. I dug my heels in, adding more force to the door.

  “They centaurs will never allow you to challenge a leader to a fight again,” Asha said.

  “The asshole led a whole army after us. You think I care?” I asked with a scoff. “This isn’t about honor, it’s about survival. I want to let his bones crumple, but if Prequeta was stupid enough to expose himself, then good for us. We need all the help we can get.”

  “That is not the strivian way,” Yermica said, helping us slam the left door closed.

  I grimaced, running to help shut the right door.

  Clap!

  Darkness enveloped us when both doors closed, bringing a lot of sighs of relief.

  “Step back,” Tarla said.

  She yanked a rope, triggering a release. The narrow hall echoed the sound of a tight chain unspooling. A portcullis dropped with a thud, the metal framing reinforcing the doors.

  Oh neat, I hadn’t seen that. Yeah, they’re not getting in without some trick.

  “I don’t think he wants to be an Ostriva or Nordan leader. He is Caitlyn’s champion who is a bit of both and everything. His rule has gotten us this far, and now we enter the unknown with another soldier on our side,” Bell said, defending me.

  “Let’s hope we didn’t seal ourselves in to fight another army,” Tarla said, lighting a torch with her magic.

  We were exhausted, literally running to the point where there was no more energy left in our tribe. Everywhere I glanced, goblins and trolls laid down, getting comfortable.

  The entry point to the mine held a short tunnel. At the end of the hallway, a cavernous loading area with a big dome ceiling provided plenty of flat space. A stone storage building rested on the left, cart tracks at the backend led down a tunnel, and hitching posts for cart animals with water troughs adorned the right wall.

  Besides the warehouse, there was only a stable building. I sent my minions to clear both structures of threats.

  “Nee, give me a head count,” I ordered. “Tarla, fires and food. Bell, help her. Asha, secure the perimeter. Jark, manage the tents and help facilitate a latrine point. Listen up, Tribe Moonguard.”

  The sleepy and worn-out troops gave me their attention.

  “The main enemy army will be here in a few hours. We eat first. Trust me, everyone must eat and only then we sleep. If we need to keep fighting or running, you will need your energy. When the doors are threatened, we dive deeper into the mines until we find a tunnel we can clog with the wagons.

  “We have plenty of frozen meat and fish to last at least a few months. After the long journey, I hope we can build a home and the enemy realizes we’re not worth the effort. I don’t know what we’ll face as we dive into the depths of the mine, but I know we will manage it together,” I boomed, my voice echoing across the cavern.

  The weary picked themselves up off the ground to properly prepare a camp. While they set up our wagons in a circle, pulled out tents, and hauled firewood out of wagons, I went to the storage building.

  Flame danced their illumination across the surprisingly large space. A breeze from below felt nice against my sweaty frame. Even though interior fires brightened the area, it still felt gloomy and dark.

  The centaur scout we had caught in the valley held the door open for me. The interior of the warehouse was mostly empty. A desk rested on the left, paperwork still littered the top with illegible markings on them. The large side doors were sprawled open.

  In the dust, hundreds of spider prints dotted the floor. If the webbing at the entrance wasn’t enough, this said there would be a spider queen below. It also meant any gold abandoned in haste had been pilfered already.

  “This stone building is defensible,” I muttered, patting the thick stone walls.

  I left to inspect the stables, feeling the cool mountain stone chilling the air. The walk acros
s the cavern revealed no fresh prints, and besides the initial webbing, I saw no other signs of spiders or strivians.

  The doors to the stable rested on a broken hinge. I found the interior smelled of death from ancient feces and a rotting donkey corpse. The flooring had old, shriveled hay we could burn but little else of value. Again, I saw tracks, telling me the valuables left behind were gone.

  I ordered my minions to add the desk to the top of the carriage, not knowing what awaited us further into the mine. At the very least, we could burn it. Returning to the fires, I saw the big cauldron boiling a large stew.

  Fire mages heated the device, speeding up the process. Each goblin and troll asked for a helping of stew before leaving to eat quickly. I fetched Tarla’s bowl along with mine from the carriage’s interior.

  Besides the occasional dog whimper or crackle of the fire, the mood was mellow. The goblins chatted quietly, almost in whispers. I missed the ambient noises of the forest. Only the soft howl of the wind below reminded me that we had entered a whole new chapter in our adventure.

  The sunny days, the almost infinite small prey, and the open spaces were gone. While I was happy to be alive, I wasn’t thrilled that we now dwelled in the cavernous holds.

  I slurped down my bowl of soup, leaving my minions to protect us while our weary group recovered in its new home.

  After ensuring we had a secure perimeter, I snuggled into a large blanket with Tarla as I wondered what dangers lurked below.

  CHAPTER 36

  Seqa Mine

  If the centaurs were trying to pound and smash the steel doors down, my minions never let me know. Without a sun to tell me how long I had slept, I had to inspect my stats and go off mana recovery.

  I smacked my lips, stretching with a happy grunt. Leaving the bed, I noticed I had fully recharged, meaning at least eight hours of sleep. I grabbed a robe, feeling the chilly air blowing over the cold stone.

  Bits of the army stirred within the camp, either heading for some food or the dumping spot behind the stable.

  Asha sat by the fire, carving a section of wood into what I could only guess would become a toy horse. I had to ask him if he ever slept and yeah, he did, but elva only needed about half the sleep of a human. Lucky bastard.

  Tarla turned, snuggling into my pillow after I had left her side. I gazed down at her fondly, smiling as she shifted.

  With no threat and skeletons guarding our camp, I saw no reason to awake those who needed some extra sleep. When I plopped down besides Asha, he set the carving in his lap and handed me a piece of paper.

  Tribe Head Count

  172 Goblins

  22 Trolls

  92 Hounds

  3 Humans

  35 Minions

  “Surprised her writing is so neat,” I said, and Asha shook his head as if I were wrong. “Champion magic?”

  “Likely, I could barely read it,” the elva said. “Bit peeved she classified me as a minion.”

  I eyed the elva, feeling sorry for him. “You know, I’ve thought about it a lot. We never talk about that day, but I have wondered how fast I would have died if I revived you instead of making you a minion.”

  “You, never. Bell or Tarla, instantly. On top of that, they would have killed me a second time. Don’t hate yourself. I already have that cover. As in, I hate myself for my own predicament. I died because of lust, not because you didn’t revive me. Hell, there were three healers in that camp,” Asha said.

  “Well, I consider you a friend now, and not a minion. Hopefully I can fix your… predicament,” I said with a sigh. He nodded, his smile saying more than enough. I thumbed back toward the big doors and asked, “What do you think the enemy is doing?”

  “Best guess? They spread out trying to find a second way in. Instead, they found ornery ogres’ nests to fight and are tied up with that. That door will take some serious power to knock down. They smashed on it for a bit but gave up not long after,” Asha said, returning to whittling his block.

  I neatly folded the paper, the sheet had value and could be re-used. I left Asha’s side to grab my sword. For the next hour the camp stirred, slowly waking. A fish breakfast was handed out, and I swung my sword at a pretend sparring partner.

  Bell found me, coming to practice as well.

  “The stable will make a fine church,” Bell said.

  “Yes, it certainly would. Not saying no, but let’s see what rests below. I have to assume the dwarves had this mine as an outpost, keeping the workers closer to the actual mining than the distribution,” I said.

  “As in a barracks?” she asked.

  “I’d hope for a water source, barracks, and such, but I have no idea,” I admitted, thrusting into a pretend opponent.

  She eyed me, contemplating something, and then switched gears. If I had to guess, she wanted to push the Caitlyn church issue.

  We practiced sword swings side by side, waiting for the camp to fully awaken.

  Tarla brought steaming fish in my bowl, no soup this time. I slid my weapon into its sheath and greedily ate my breakfast in a messy fashion. After I finished, I cleaned out the bowl and tucked it away.

  Those little things, they were something I would have never expected to become so routine. Your spoon and bowl turned into companions you eyed happily, taking a bit of pride in. You certainly didn’t want to forget them and have to borrow someone else’s bowl.

  I knew I had some maintenance to catch up on, so I went about doing laundry while the camp spent the first part of the day still recovering. After laundry, I found one of our seamstress trolls and handed her a broken sandal.

  With my chores complete, I dove into the healer book, practicing a few spell rotations. I saw I had leveled up to healer nine and decided to hold off on improving it for now.

  The dwarves said the tunnels would be filled with threats the deeper we went, but if they weren’t, the Zorta I had in reserves might be vital.

  I walked over to Nee who was feeding puppies with her husband. I forgot the goblin’s name, but we exchanged smiles.

  “I’m going to send my minions to scout. Ready the goblins.”

  She happily nodded, the pups sad they had to fight over the food she tossed out.

  “Yermica, get the wagons ready. Asha, with me,” I said loudly, seeing her brushing a ram.

  I left the wagon circle where the goblins and trolls had organized themselves for battle. Jark ran to catch up as my other minions flanked me.

  “Hey, Boss, what do you have for me?” he asked.

  I glanced at Jark, walking with him for the trolley system. The man was the definition of character growth on a journey. He had gone from betrayal to loyalty, immature to boring. My father had a saying, ‘boring is good, boring is safe, and boring is actually for the best.’

  For most of my adult life, I had lived boring. Never getting too drunk, never doing drugs, never cheating on women, always showing up to work early, and never giving my boss problems. Jark, well, he had transitioned into the ‘me’ I had left behind. Or so I felt.

  “Do me a favor. Go ahead and scout with the two centaur skeletons,” I said, being more polite than I needed to be.

  He raced down the mine cart path, each footstep gingerly placed. Tarla arrived at my side, watching him vanish into the darkness.

  “Are you excited for this next part?” Tarla asked.

  I sighed. “Sometimes I’m wanting to be the hero,” I admitted.

  “Umm… not what I asked, but lay it on me, handsome man.”

  My lovely redhead fit me, and I grinned at her offer.

  “I’m a demon, not a man,” I said, staring into the blackness of the declining tunnel. “Sorry, just feeling a bit down that I’m trapped underground by a horde of centaurs. The hero in the movies… in Earth’s tales, would have unleashed an army of dragons, flooded the valley, or raised skeletons from deep with the very planet to win the day. But I did none of that. I hid under the bed.”

  “Only a god could do those things,”
Tarla said, taking my hand into hers. She leaned against my shoulder. “I think you’re doing great. Some calm and training will do wonders for the spirit.”

  “Boss!” Jark’s voice echoed up from below. “You’re gonna wanna see this.”

  “You sure you should be shouting?” I teased.

  “Uh… yeah, they’re waiting for you,” Jark said, and I frowned.

  “Formations,” I ordered over my shoulder to the gathering troops.

  “Not that kind of waiting, but I understand, just don’t do anything rash, please,” Jark said, further piquing my curiosity.

  “Hold up, Damien. This conversation seems to be bothering you,” Tarla said, noticing I was ready to get on a mount to join the assembling formation. “They’re soldiers, and you’re their leader. That means you need to make the hard decisions. At the same time, you did wonderful. Truly, even Bell is singing your praises, and she is right. You can only affect what you control, and you choose to push us hard based on a single line from a mysterious goblin. She wouldn’t have done that, but you did. You’re doing great even with all the outside factors being against you.”

  “I know,” I said with a deep inhale. “I refuse to angst endlessly about it. I have to learn to get back on the horse, ram in this case, and carry on. Thanks for being there for me to vent to.”

  “You’re compartmentalizing, and… I don’t blame you. I’m sorry you didn’t win the day and become king of the hill, but you did save over two hundred lives,” she said. “Oh, speaking of which, probably time to revive another troll or goblin.”

  I leaned down, kissing her forehead. I went to leave, but she wrapped me up, holding me in a tender embrace.

  A happy sigh escaped my lips. I found one of my troll minions and reached out with my aura.

  Resurrect Korna of tribe Moonguard (YES) or (NO) - Selecting (NO) will incur Nordan points.

  I selected yes, feeling the power surge from out of my core. Tarla let me go, shaking her head at my silly casting while hugging me.