Isekai Magus: A LitRPG Progression Saga

by Han Yang

  “Yeah, well, I can always earn Z in a mad dash for victory. Bell is alive. My mom… she’d never let me live it down if she knew I ended thirty lives to make hers possible,” I said sadly.

  “And your father?”

  I snickered. “The ends justify the means. He’d say that then tell me he raised me better. Which, thanks for visiting. How is Karo, the lidka champion?”

  “Dead. He fought a troll for dominance and lost. Earth is… crap. Well, I have another potential competitor heading over soon. Oh, and Damien…” Caitlyn paused to ensure she had my rapt attention.

  “Yeah?”

  “Build me a proper church again. I’m fond of Bell. She’s never wavered in her faith in me,” Caitlyn said, making me feel bad.

  She patted my shoulder and said, “You’re my best champion yet. I know when it's time to have faith in my champion. Good luck, Damien.”

  “I -”

  Caitlyn faded, her stick figure clattering down near the altar.

  “Bell’s alive,” I grumbled.

  It would have been so much easier if she were dead. I would simply cleanse the jungle, cleanse the plains, and then rebuy her life. Instead… Instead, I needed to prepare for war and be tactful with a delegation from a nearby larger army.

  I exited the church, finding a storm brewing on the horizon. I frowned and then smiled. It would mean less hunting, and fewer goblins would reach us during the storm, but it might deter the orcs leadership.

  Since the one attack, the dragon and the griffin had never rejoined the formations that had scouted us. I knew that the human army likely had not ventured into Ostriva lands in fear of the very armies we contended with.

  Taking my time to return to the next issue, I zoned out on the dead troll. So many problems faced me that the beach seemed wonderful.

  “We want the minotaur reborn,” a voice seethed with anger.

  I left my inner thoughts, seeing a squad of minotaurs, none of them much bigger than Nick.

  “And then what?” I asked. “Do you intend to spend the ten thousand Zorta to free him of my commands?”

  “You will revive and return him to the living,” the minotaur demanded.

  “No,” I replied.

  Mini and a dozen lidka joined my guards that never ventured too far.

  I walked to the dead troll, patting down her body.

  A different minotaur, a female from the back, cautiously approached.

  My inspection didn’t find anything of note, and the mystery thickened.

  “I’m kinda busy,” I told the minotaur.

  “Release this one from your spell,” she said, inquisitively. I followed her finger to Nick and chuckled. “He is clearly enthralled.”

  I danced hands around in the air and said, “Oh wise and adventurous Freninick, I free you of our bonding and wish for you to have copious amounts of young with this witty minotaur maiden. Now that that nonsense is done, I have a dead spy to work over. Either send an elder to negotiate without threats or state what the hell you came for.”

  Nick smirked, the female snorted, and I tossed my palms up in frustration.

  “We’re here to assess a fine of fifty percent for the bridge’s damage. But now we see you’ve killed minotaurs and cannot collect. A thorough report will be needed. This one will need to be broken from your spell so he can join us.” The female pointed to Nick.

  I frowned, glancing at Nick for help.

  “I’ll give a full report and mention how the scouts interfered in divine matters,” Nick said.

  “See, brainwashed,” the female minotaur said.

  “Ah…” I wagged a finger at the minotaur. “You’re of the opinion that a minotaur could not possibly see the situation differently. Nick, I release you and want you to only tell the truth when you give your report,” I said.

  Nick snorted and nodded.

  Tarla came over, stopping them before they could leave. “How big is the fine?”

  “Thirty-seven Zorta,” the first male said with a grumble.

  Tarla raced to our treasury wagon. When she handed off a small purse, I hoped I’d see Nick again. I needed friends, and we had had a battlefield encounter where I sorta saved him. Nick was earning my trust, and I figured I was earning his.

  When they left, I waved Nee over. No rest for an army commander.

  “Have we inspected her personal belongings?” I asked.

  “Personal belongings, yes. Nothing of merit. All new entries are forced to give oaths of no harm to others and then submit to an inspection. The downside is that anyone in the tribe can administer the process. But… it's like those who sent her, knew her orb wouldn’t be inspected and just her gear. To be fair, the orb doesn’t tell us anything of interest besides points. Unless… divine magic is in consideration,” Nee said.

  I tapped my foot, staring at the body of the female troll.

  “Her handlers sent her into enemy territory with divine alterations. Maybe they told Bell they’d spare her mother or gave her a reprieve from torment. I -”

  “Boss!” Asha interrupted, pointing to the north.

  A large dark brown dragon flew for our clearing, a yellow banner held high. I recognized Parnic, the orc advisor slash intellectual. He had promised me a gift, but, to be honest, I had figured he lied.

  After the troll betrayal, I was hesitant, but still ordered, “Raise the yellow.”

  “Back to what I was saying. She was sent to spy and was likely expendable. Certainly, she was either gullible, susceptible, or devout. All three mean she will make a better minion than a hostage,” I said.

  Tarla cleared her throat. “You killed her in cold blood.”

  “Yeah, it's allowed,” I said.

  “Huh?” Tarla blurted.

  “Oh, sorry, I’m a book reader. Geneva conventions allow a spy in disguise to be executed without a trail,” I said.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. That was wrong, though,” Tarla said.

  “Fine, I’ll revive her. You can coax out her information, and then we will decide what to do next.” I paused and held up a finger. “Or, I make her a minion, our enemy becomes our friend, I get answers, and the problem solves itself.”

  “Damien, she didn’t fight you. You stabbed her in the heart when she defied you,” Tarla said softly.

  “I get it. She was the threat the church opened. Oh, Bell is alive, Nim is dead, and my minimal upgrade is normal,” I said, recapping the conversation.

  “Can we at least talk about things like executions?” Tarla asked.

  I waved her over, giving Tarla a hug.

  “Sometimes you have to do the bad thing to achieve the…” I paused my bad guy excuse line, shifting. “How does we take it one day and one situation at a time work for you?”

  “That is a start,” Tarla said, only partially placated.

  I kissed her forehead, not willing to accept her side of the argument. The human troll would be more useful to me dead than alive, end of story. Killing her let me see Caitlyn, investigate her, deal with minotaurs, and would let me meet with an orc scholar.

  “I might have a compromise,” I said, seeing Parnic and his dragon coming to the middle of our clearing.

  The dull colored beast eyed us with blazing red eyes. The dragon’s lackluster scales and smaller size didn't reduce its menacing nature. When it curled into a ball to relax, Parnic left the saddle. The dragon huffed in annoyance when Parnic grabbed a three-foot long box from the back of the saddle.

  The box had holes in the side, telling me he had likely brought an animal of some kind.

  “Welcome to my… my war camp,” I said with open arms and a boisterous tone.

  “Where’s the big one?” Parnic asked, glancing around for Sprinkles.

  “Waiting in ambush,” I said, giving a half truth.

  “I meant to come earlier, but the humans to the north are doing some peculiar things. They’re building forts without purpose. We half wonder if it’s just to confuse us,”
Parnic said with a chuckle.

  His eyes spoke of sadness, though, and I knew the right thing to say to lift his spirits.

  “Do you want to meet a god?” I asked nonchalantly.

  His eyes widened, and he nodded emphatically. “That would be the crowning achievement of my life. I…” He huffed, calming his nerves.

  The orc was huge, almost twice my size, telling me he was not some youngin’.

  He found his peace and said, “I remiss. This is my gift for your time. I understand most orcs are given to be crude and brass, and that is a very fair assessment of my species. I, however, am different. I present Zhorath, the runt.”

  He popped open the lid, and a big lizard hopped out. The black scales, the fierce red eyes, the rows of jagged teeth… This was a dragon, but…

  “Where’s the wings?” I asked in confusion.

  He eyed me like I was crazy, and then clapped with a hearty laugh. “Not from Nordan or Ostriva. Right, right. I forget at times. Zhorath, go to your new master.” The small dragon eyed the big orc like he was an idiot. “Stubborn as always. Feed him to help the transition if you wish to not make him a minion. When he matures in a few years, he’ll get wings.”

  “A few years,” I blurted. “Hell, I got an army on two sides… again.”

  “Yes, well, you’ve proven to be fruitful and capable of surviving. As for Zhorath, I think it’s best if you kill him. Trust me. Kill him and make him a minion. I watched your cats return from their hunts. Zhorath will be far more useful in death than life. He is called the runt as a misnomer. In reality, he is big, but he is… and there he goes.”

  The baby dragon tore across the field and pounced onto an unsuspecting goblin.

  Snap!

  The neck twisted at a horrid angle. The dragonling ate an ear as if everything he did was perfectly normal. Ah… in an orc camp, a goblin becoming a meal was likely part of the survival cost.

  I winced. “Damn…”

  “Yeah, runt means different things. In this case, Zhorath can't be trained. The more you scold or reward him, the worse he gets,” Parnic said with a shrug.

  “Okay, so you brought me the problem child,” I said.

  “I don’t fight, meaning a gift from me will never have some lavishness to it. I was owed a debt, and the owner was happy to pay. This is a win-win,” he said, apparently saddened by my jab at his gift.

  “My manners escape me. Thank you. I find the gift of a minion to be quite perfect. When you can't tame a wild spirit, you break it,” I said with a smile. Tarla rolled her eyes. “What, it hits on our point. Some beasts are better tamed as the dead. Speaking of which.” The young dragon went to attack another goblin. “Damnit Zhorath, bad dragon! Mini, kill Zhorath please.”

  The soil under my feet vibrated when the big minotaur charged the lizard.

  The two played a game of run and chase until a twang ended the amusement. Asha wounded the lovely dragon, and thankfully, Mini earned the killing blow.

  “Add it to the pile of my resurrections. Oh, speaking of which. I have a human spy who underwent divine transformation into a troll. Want to study her?” I asked.

  He fidgeted with excitement. “Are you sure? That would be an interesting case study. And you’ll let me see your goddess?”

  “Yeah, I need friends and bribing them works,” I said.

  He chuckled at my honesty.

  “Yes, yes it does. For certain your kindness is not weakness. After, I will talk to this coming army, maybe convince them to heed the great war chief’s orders,” Parnic said.

  I smiled.

  When I led him to the church, he started asking about a game I called soccer. It had stuck with him, and the orcs never thought to use so many rules in their kickball games. They also tended to use heads instead of balls, but progress took time.

  I didn’t mind answering his questions, and I hoped that in a few days I’d be leaving the area without another fight.

  Wishful thinking had never been more wrong.

  CHAPTER 63

  Quari Jungle

  “And what if he dies?” Tarla said, playing the devil’s advocate.

  She really had become the yang to my ying. While she was quick to point out the obvious and get me to talk about it, Tarla did so with love. I never felt malice in her tone or meaning.

  “Then he dies,” I said sadly.

  “This is a big risk, especially with the weather,” Asha said, also not loving my plan.

  I glanced around the table, not seeing anyone else willing to tell me something positive.

  I sighed, nodding in understanding.

  “Normally, I’d take this advice and heed the warning. We… We very well can lose the coming battle without him. I’ve grown fond of living, and I would assume our tribe has too. This thunderstorm provides an opportunity,” I said, already having my mind made up.

  The repeated cracks of thunder joined the whipping rain smashing into our wagon with a constant drumming. The carriage rocked with the howl of the wind only increasing.

  During the night, the brewing storm on the horizon rolled in with a fury. It progressively grew until a wall formed. Our army had become battered and drenched from its might.

  “I’ll be back,” I said, leaving my seat for the back bunk.

  Zhorath curled up in a ball at the foot of the bed, eyeing me much like a cat would.

  The terrifying little dragon had become a reborn minion. His black scales shone under the magic illuminating the carriage. Ever since he died, became a minion, and was returned to life, he had been a model citizen. It didn’t hurt that the excess catches from the other hunters went to feeding the growing dragon.

  Parnic hinted that a well-fed dragon would return dividends. So far, all we had received was a gassy, well-behaved animal.

  My latest guardian adjusted while I found a comfortable spot.

  Closing my eyes, I chanted in a mumble. I demanded obedience until my spell cast, projecting from my body.

  I flew blind, the power of the storm trying to bash my third eye. While the intense weather failed to harm my spirit, it still obscured my vision.

  A pull from Sprinkles helped to guide me. I was starting to have second, third, and then fourth doubts, when I suddenly jolted into my minion’s body.

  A large fallen oak rested against my frame. I shoved the heavy tree off my broken leg. My actions stirred something living inside my cranium while something else sheltered in my rib cage.

  I sat upright, feeling claws trying to cling to my inner skull. A predator fell out.I wasn’t sure what it was because I instantly began crawling toward my army.

  The slow progress was hampered by the lack of a left leg below the knee. A frustration built within me about the tedious endeavor.

  When I tried to rise, thinking I could hop my way to our army, the wind gusted, smashing me back down.

  I could feel the damage to my cracked bones worsening, warning me to continue with caution. A drive to win consumed me. I crawled, snaking between trees, climbing over rocks, and taking every bit of distance I earned as a victory.

  I proceeded for an hour before leaving Sprinkles. When I returned to my body, the constant rain crashed down angrily, drumming against the carriages wooden frame. I reached out trying to heal Sprinkles.

  Your minion is beyond your healing reach.

  I sighed. I had figured this was the answer. I heard the others conversing about the looming potential fight.

  Not bothering to let them know I had returned, I muttered my chant. When the spell grabbed hold of my mind, I shot back across the void between me and Sprinkles.

  This return trip was shorter, and I had no idea by how much, but it was almost in a direct line too. I could sense my body, even without vision. Relief. This helped me, simply because I felt like I had made progress in the right direction.

  The mundane task of slowly advancing through the jungle left my mind in a daze. Three or four hours passed before I squished something with my palm.

/>   My looming figure blocked a section of heavy rain, providing me with a slight amount of sight. Below me rested a squished tent, the remains scattered on the main road.

  When a huge gust of wind ripped the busted tent out of the ground, I noticed human remains splattered across the cobbled road instead of orcs.

  Scanning the road, I could only see a few tents to the left and right. Just a guess, but this was a cavalry unit that had rushed to reinforce the orcs or show that Prince Tao was committed. Talk about a lucky find for us and an unlucky turn of events for these poor fellows.

  Not daring to move, I waited and watched for activity. The storm kept the other tents on the road occupied, their flaps drawn tight, and the roar of the storm likely covering my noise.

  When nothing happened, I carefully stalked over the road, figuring my accidental murders had gone unnoticed for the moment.

  After I was decently far, I attempted to hop for speed. I managed a half dozen single-legged leaps before a wind gust shoved me forward. I didn't catch my fall correctly, breaking a wrist and slamming hard into the jungle.

  My real body jostled from the impact of Sprinkles.

  I grinned, waking with glee.

  Repair: Sprinkles - extensive bone damage 249/270 mana. (YES) - (NO)

  I selected yes, feeling the magic escape my body. I couldn’t see the repairs taking place, but I knew my magic would be blanketing the area.

  Boom!

  A random crack of lightning thundered in the small space.

  “We need to see if the enemy is unleashing siege weapons on us,” Asha said, his concern evident in his tone.

  Clearly, he had felt the vibration from Sprinkles fall.

  “Good news and bad news,” I said, stealing the attention. “The bad news is that at least some humans have arrived and are only a few hours away.”

  “What?” Tarla blurted. “We watched for them, and we’ve only been stopped for less than three days.”

  Asha grimaced, running a hand through his white hair. “If they rode hard through the night with minimal rest, it certainly makes sense, especially if they’re a smaller unit. Horses can move quickly. There’s no way the infantry is here. How many did you see?”