Isekai Magus: A LitRPG Progression Saga

by Han Yang

  The King eyed me, then Oscatriver. Oscatriver smirked with a snort coming out of his large snout. “Told ya he was different. Yes, if you wish to fight with the species of Ostriva over Nordan, we’re fine with that. Assuming you understand you cannot waver, and there’s no retreat unless the King orders it.”

  “I may stay in Tarb and win on my own,” I said with a shrug and the minotaurs peeled out a loud laughter.

  When they calmed, Nick tapped my shoulder. “I’m to take you to an inn in the middle section of the city. That is assuming you wish to sign this treaty and trade.”

  “Nick, I’d be honored to ally the minotaurs and sell you weapons and armor I cannot use,” I said with a smirk.

  I wasn’t expecting a warm reception, but I recognized why I was given one. The King was hedging his bets and sending me to slow an enemy that concerned him.

  By his grace, my situation in the short term turned positive and in the long term, I knew if he was worried, then I should be too.

  CHAPTER 70

  Xastriban

  “Two more days?” I complained with a sigh.

  Tarla slung an arm around my waist, rising to kiss my cheek. I glanced down at her mischievous eyes and decided to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

  “Did I ever tell you you're beautiful,” I said, not really asking a question.

  Her hand grabbed a chunk of my butt, and she bounced her brows.

  “Again?”

  “You insatiable minx!” Our lips locked in a sweet entwining. “No, we have work to do today. Kinda surprised Nick is late. It’s not his style,” I said, glancing at the door.

  “Well, based on the report that was slid under the door, Nee used her once a month spell once the dead were consolidated. She needs a day and a half to harvest the bountiful gain, and then a day to get the caravan on the plains to go south,” Tarla said then winced. “It may take longer than that, though. You can always occupy a skeleton and check in. At least we’re not too far from the main army.”

  Our flight from Teska had been straight west for only a few hours. We had flown in an odd harness that allowed little to be seen.

  The march to reconnect with my army would be at least a week, which left me in a pickle. The enemy was marching hard to likely solidify Tarb... My best option was to beat them there, avoiding having to siege in the winter from outside warm homes.

  To beat him, I needed supplies. To get supplies, I needed to lose a week of progress. That also assumed I could push my new supplies at a quick pace to the southeast and that everything was magically ready to go.

  A knock on the door halted my brooding. The early morning, gray skyline spoke of winter. A chilly breeze swept into our lavishly large suite, and I cinched my robe a smidge tighter.

  Tarla answered the door, and Nick strode in.

  We all wore matching purple robes, the emblem of diplomacy on our chests. The symbol - the King’s - sent a clear message. Respect the guests, period. Up to that point, no slaves or any other species had dealt with us, and I hadn’t seen any species besides minotaurs until we had left the upper city.

  “Good morning. They’re done processing your metal. Thirteen thousand gold, plus or minus a few. Not a shabby tally after the agreed upon rate. The King realized you’d be helping him remove some problems and useless clutter, so you got a decent exchange. What would you like to buy first?” Nick asked.

  I had a list, a really long list. A lot of the required items revolved around surviving winter or basic necessities. When I extended the list, Nick accepted the parchment and unrolled it, taking the time to read the information.

  “Almost all of this will be in the conquered warehouses. Father says the King intends to empty them for breeding programs and potential refugee storage. The soap is odd for a goblin army, but we have businesses that produce it. The needles, thread, and hide are available in the market. The wagons we will need to visit Peetie’s district. We have an excess from the war. I take it you’d rather buy human-sized wagons to start and use undead as pullers?”

  I opened my mouth and closed it. “I forgot I can have my undead knights run here nonstop. They’ll trigger wards when they’re near, but I really don’t need cart animals.”

  “As long as they stay docile, the guards will let them in with limited access.” He wagged the parchment. “I can handle almost all of this. The slaves are the big issue. I -”

  A knock on the door interrupted Nick.

  He opened it to reveal a female with light red skin and four arms. She must have been the korb race I had never met. Long, raven colored hair flowed down her back while her face held small tusks like an orc - but less menacing. She smiled warmly, holding a satchel that rested on her hip. Her kind eyes and maid outfit spoke of her purpose.

  “Ah, Serina, welcome,” Nick said, waving her in. “This lovely korb raised me and is a dear friend of mine. Serina, this is Damien, my adventuring partner and subject for my thesis.”

  Serina approached with open arms, only standing a foot or so taller than me. She offered a hug and Nick was completely at ease. I gambled, rolling my proverbial charisma and luck dice. We hugged in greeting, gently and in a way that felt motherly. When she hugged Tarla, she paused, a fondness in her gaze as she stared down at my lovely ginger.

  Something in my mind clicked, and I blurted, “Thesis? As in for school?”

  “We are a network of minotaur cities. If Xastriban falls, we go Koor. If Koor falls, we go to Tranama. The King rules them all, and there is Jardin in the south. They’ll likely retreat with the warriors joining the army and the citizens going to Koor. Do you hear the concern in my voice? Do you fathom what this means?” Nick asked.

  Serina sassed with a humph. “Tis always a war brewing. Always a threat so great it looms bigger than an angry storm. Focus on the here n’ now. How can I help?”

  I glanced at them both, not sure how to answer Nick or what Serina meant by help. Was she here to grab us a snack or go shopping or -

  “Ya the mancer?” a minotaur said for the doorway.

  “Peetie! Thanks for coming,” Nick said, holding up a hand to Peetie - a massive minotaur who barely fit in the hall. Nick handed Serina the list. “Serina, grab all the perishables and crafting supplies. We’re going to the slave market and then the arena.”

  “The arena?” I blurted.

  “Of course. They’ll try to bribe you. I suggest you accept,” Nick said.

  “I’m minion-less with only…” I paused to check.

  Name: Damien Moonguard

  Race: Human

  Affiliation: Nordan

  Zorta: 11287.811

  Nordan Score: 31,314,551

  Ostriva Score: 1,709,450

  Location: Xastriban

  Magic Type: Healer

  Healer Level: 12

  Magic Type 2: Necromancer

  Necromancy Level: 7

  Necromancer Minions: 4797/4800

  Fighting Level: Decent

  Mana: 300/300

  Mana Recharge: 9

  Strength: 14

  Stamina: 13

  Dexterity: 11

  Constitution: 15

  Willpower: 14

  Cultivation: 26

  Intelligence: 40

  Wisdom: 40

  Charisma: 30

  Tracking: 13

  Endurance: 14

  Perception: 19

  Burst: 13

  Reflex: 12

  Healing: 11

  Melee Combat: 11

  Aim: 6

  Hunger: 3

  Thirst: 4

  Aging: 59 years until death.

  “Huh… A cat died yesterday… what else did I lose?” I asked.

  Tarla patted my back. “Everything okay?”

  “You mean besides the sudden excitement? Sort of. I have to check my prompts. Ah, here it is. A second cat died, and a lidka died, both beyond recovery. I’m sure Nee will know what happened,” I said nonchalantly. “So, there you have it. I can only fight with thre
e minions.”

  “Well, I have about ten thousand gold worth of wagons fer sale,” Peetie said.

  Serina cleared her throat and added, “I can get most of this list for three thousand gold.”

  “This is why you were late…”

  Nick fiddled with his satchels clasp as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. It didn’t take a genius to realize I was being played. I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply, then let out the stress.

  I wasn’t in control of the situation, and my transactions were all being carefully manipulated. The truth made me feel powerless, but the reality was that signing a document as an ally was almost meaningless besides not being killed.

  I continued to stare at Nick, concluding it was likely beyond his control. “I’ll free more slaves by fighting?”

  “Absolutely,” Peetie said with a laugh.

  “I’ll need minions,” I grumbled.

  “Great, because father owes you three hundred human slaves, your pick. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by the selection,” Nicks said, patting my back. “Plus, the arena will be full, and the King will even be in attendance.”

  “So… my metal, was it worth -”

  “Whadya think?” Peetie asked bluntly.

  “Fair enough. Can I get an ale while we shop?” I asked, realizing my pouting was a waste.

  I needed to accept the gifts as gifts and smile as I did so. I could certainly play the part.

  “Tis not even noon,” Serina said.

  “It’s going to be one of those days, I just feel it,” I said, earning a chuckle from Nick.

  “South gate will have your wagons lined up by this time t’morra. Yer supplies will be loaded,” Peetie said, taking his leave with Serina. When he clomped down the extra tall stairs he added, “Look forward ta da fightin’.”

  After securing our room, we headed to the bar, seeing only a few patrons eating at tables quietly. The crowd was mostly orcs and minotaurs. I saw sneers, and Nick growled.

  “These are the orcs you didn’t accept. They start military training here soon, and they are lucky they get to live the lavish life before they endure hell to be broken and remodeled.” Nick stopped and ordered. “Jebi, an ale for the mancer.”

  A bartender with four arms, another korb, grabbed a moonshine type jar. He hurled it at Nick who snatched it out of the air with a chuckle. I was handed the jar, not trusting it wouldn’t explode from the violent motion.

  “Twist it off,” Tarla said, and I did as I was told.

  A smidge of foam poured out, spilling down the side until it landed with a wet smack against the clean barroom floor. I sipped the beverage and smiled from the refreshing taste.

  “I’m parched, do share.” Tarla batted her eyes at me.

  It dawned on me she likely didn’t realize or know there was a correlation between alcoholism and pregnancy issues.

  “Oh, geez. Um… Our magic on Earth used science for medical issues,” I started to say.

  “Doctors and machines right?” Nick said.

  Medical advances was a conversation covered in a broad ranging scope of topics. Nick and I talked a lot to pass the long travel times, mostly sharing information about each other’s cultures.

  “Yeah, surprised you remembered. Anyway, this has alcohol and a thick amount based on the fact it didn’t foam,” I said, mostly guessing about the foam.

  The taste was the real clue.

  “Ya, so?” Jebi the bartender butted in.

  “Well, in humans, alcohol causes all sorts of developmental issues. It is forbidden to consume if pregnant,” I said.

  “Nothing a healer can’t fix,” Tarla said. I glanced at her in concern, and she playfully slugged my arm. “I’ll be fine with plain water, Nick. Please and thank you.”

  The minotaur was tossed another jar, this one holding fresh water from a water mage. Tarla slurped down the full thing then ran to go pee.

  “Really?” Nick asked.

  “Yes, an odd drink is likely fine, but if you have a rabid alcoholic, I would keep them away while pregnant or nursing,” I said.

  “We have puritan mages. They take the toxins out of the body. Same thing, but interesting to hear another species dealing with a similar issue,” Nick said, not revealing too much,

  My curiosity was not piqued enough for further questions.

  Tarla exited with a skip in her step until she forced me to catch her. The orcs eyed our odd behavior, but we left before they could comment.

  The bar led to a road next to the arena. Traffic was sparse, mostly an early morning rotation of guards clanking in their heavy gear. The street was clean, smoke stacks billow black trails, and a few chickens clucked from a nearby alley. Goblins ran supplies, careful to stay out of our way.

  We walked across the street to the main market I had only stepped into briefly during my last visit.

  Nick approached the guards, exchanging friendly grunts. One of the bigger female guards slapped his ass with a giggle. Nick rubbed his butt cheek, not scolding or complaining.

  “Is there a story there?” I asked, seeing her elbow her fellow guard while glancing at Nick.

  “I’m fifty years old and there’s only thirty-thousand minotaurs in this city. When you realize the single females interested in an intellectual are low, the ones who will ever pay me enough attention are slim. Baroi is a lovely minotauress,” Nick said.

  “You bet your sweet ass I am,” Baroi confidently shouted from the guard station.

  “Yeah, my love life can wait for a different day. Minotaurs operate differently than humans. We breed, and very often the youth enter schooling without visitation or guidance from their creators. My parents are different. Father especially. He sees me as another research tool, an extension of his being that can do more than his single body. The old minotaur didn’t sleep all night as he studied my notes, Asha’s notes, and the books you procured,” Nick said with a wince.

  “I bought them for him, sort of. I got my use out of them,” I admitted.

  “Great, because he already has them categorized and sorted in the great library. Speaking of which,” Nick lifted a purse off his neck.

  I caught the small sack, seeing orbs inside. “Interesting. I wasn’t expecting this.”

  “He said that should be a nice boon, and he keeps his word,” Nick said, leading us to a mammoth breeder.

  I glanced around the market. The small vender stations behind me were bound tight, closed due to the early morning. This stall was permanent and the mammoths were gently going about their morning.

  The small herd was a mix of desert skin to winter woolies. They ranged from a dozen feet tall to thirty. None truly big enough for King Hartinger, and also too small for a siege emplacement.

  I didn’t need them, and Nick knew that. Nick would need a mount. He walked everywhere and… I knew it was crazy to think, but he had grown since I first met him. Not much, but I would wager this was part of the minotaur process.

  Everything that morning had been scripted. Our first vendor was a mammoth breeder, which I didn’t need, and this meant there was likely an ulterior motive.

  “You’re coming…” I gauged his reaction. “And you’re taking Serina with us?”

  He glanced down at me with a slight nod. “Two things are apparent. The King is investing in you as a proxy fighter. The costs are minimal, and the gains are nearly endless. That is what all great leaders should do and you will need some help. Father asked to go in my stead. Denied. I declined unless we could properly train and organize your army.

  “My stubborn ways only went so far. We’re gaining a few extra helpers, Serina being one of them. We’re standing here because I’m buying a carriage, a hauler, and a war mount. Basically, I’m joining your war party if you’ll have me.”

  “Friends are most welcome. However, I need to be honest with you, both of you. This massive threat, the Ignoria Swarm, presents a fantastic opportunity,” I said in a cheerful way.

  Tarla and
Nick grew worrisome when I rubbed my hands together in glee.

  The minotaur mammoth farmer eyed me curiously, his interest clearly piqued.

  I had to remember their hearing was phenomenal.

  I continued, “This Ignoria region has but one major force baying for my blood. If I conquer that foe, what happens?”

  “Umm… You’re insane,” Nick said, catching on.

  “I don’t get it,” Tarla said, and her brows raised in shock. When she did figure out my thoughts, she frowned. “You’re wanting to go south? As in conquering the ratkin that even the towering King fears.”

  “The towering King, while mighty, is but one minotaur,” I said bluntly.

  “Yer but one puny human,” the farmer said in a snarky manner.

  His sneer was clearly not enough to get his point across. I understood his need to think his King was mightier than me.

  “I - I - I…” I paused then turned to Nick, realizing the ignorant minotaur was not worth my time. “I’m going into danger, and while I was hoping to conquer Tarb and build a base there, I realize that notion is folly. I’ll be considered a minotaur pawn, which is something I’d rather avoid at this point. This transaction today shouldn't come with strings. Living next to this city and in the human kingdom will only lead to strife. No, I’ll go to the south and reconquer one of the large port cities I saw on the map. Build my own base, my own fleets, and be my own power.”

  “And Caitlyn?” Tarla asked.

  “She will get a magnificent towering church. I don’t even know what power she will have today or tomorrow. I can only focus on us for now, and, of course, all this is subject to change. But if I lost the opening to go home, or lost the ability to free my parents, then shit, I may as well embrace what I am; a champion and a puny human who can defeat three times his numbers with ease.”

  I side glanced at the farmer who cowered at my taunting.

  “Ah, um… I’ll need to adjust what I buy and… Baroi! Ya wanna campaign into the ratkin lands?” Nick raised his voice.

  I held up my hands, halting my friend. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. I still have to free Bell and defeat Arax’s faithful,” I warned. “But if I do, I’ll likely march through winter and invade the invaders while they prepare. I need a true base of operations, one I can solidify as my own. I want a port because islands are insane to ignore.”