Sixth Realm Part 2: A litRPG Fantasy series (The Ten Realms Book 7)

by Michael Chatfield

  “Got them learning the basics of large-camp hygiene. Had a few go to the bathroom in the wrong place. They should have the tents up soon. Cafeteria is getting pulled together, have something warm for them soon.” Zukal moved to stand next to him.

  “A few of the sects tried to charge the walls, thought that they were still fleeing. The Institute let them get in close and wiped out nearly four hundred before they fled. Did find out something useful, though. Magical traps underground. Can’t see them before we activate them.”

  Domonos looked at the pentagon-shaped city.

  A guard opened the flap and moved toward Domonos.

  “Sir, there is messenger looking for you from the Grey Peak sect. Says that Commander Gudriksson sent him.”

  “Okay.” Domonos headed out of the tent. “Get Niemm and his people. I’ll brief them before we start.”

  Konal Gudriksson looked up from the massive table map. The twenty-meter-wide command center was bathed in a warm, yellow glow by light formations. Stone pillars reached out of the ground to support the building. A table of refreshments lay against one wall, and the various sect leaders stood around it talking to one another. Their engraved armor was untarnished and highly polished, and each wore a fine-looking sword at their side.

  Already congratulating one another on the impending victory.

  Gudriksson sneered, looking away from the pompous fools, surveying the markers that denotated the different camps.

  An aide walked up to Gudriksson, pitching his voice low. “The guild’s commander is here.”

  Gudriksson glanced at the entrance. A young man entered, wearing padded armor and greaves, only his sword and boots glanced over to be more than the cheapest item he could find.

  The sect leaders glanced over with a sneer and continued to mutter among themselves.

  The man’s cold eyes passed over them and locked on Gudriksson. He walked over, unwavering and uncaring about anything else.

  Gudriksson inwardly nodded in approval as the man approached.

  “Commander?” Gudriksson asked as he approached.

  “Daniel Stuart. You requested my presence, Commander Gudriksson?”

  “As the largest contributor to breaking the siege, I wanted to get your opinion on some things.” Gudriksson invited Commander Stuart to study the map with him.

  Stuart’s eyes flicked across vital points, tilting and half-turning his head to Gudriksson.

  Gudriksson didn’t miss the other sect commanders moving closer, having heard his previous words.

  “Right now, we have nine thousand mounted fighters and seventeen thousand fighters on foot, all ranging from levels twenty-four to thirty-five. Our plan is for those on foot to push up and rush the defenses, breaking open the walls, and allowing our mounted forces to flood in.”

  “Did you bring any ranged siege weapons?” Daniel asked.

  “We can bring some up. Now that we have them on the back foot, we can rush them before they establish their defense,” Gudriksson said.

  “If we wait, we will lose the initiative, like some forces did in the chase,” a bald sect commander muttered, looking down his nose at Daniel.

  Gudriksson cleared his throat. “You were asking about siege weapons?”

  “Yes. The Willful Institute has dominated this area for decades. With that sort of time, they will have added more defenses, not less. They might have an empty city, but Meokar has hidden fangs. We need to clear those magical traps; otherwise, we will lose our foot soldiers.”

  “Their force is cut off. There is nowhere for them to retreat to. They are ours! We can starve them out!” A sect leader with a green sash raised his glass of wine.

  “A coward’s path!” another said, tugging on his thick handlebar mustache.

  “The city is empty. There are no mouths to feed except the defenders, so they’ll have plenty of food and water for months,” Daniel said.

  “By then, the Institute could recover and attack our own cities,” Gudriksson said.

  “So, attack!” the bald sect commander demanded. “The Adventurer’s Guild has shown their ability to charge the enemy. They should take the vanguard position of honor!” The bald man’s smug smile was filled with viciousness.

  Other sect commanders made noises of agreement, like wolves watching their wounded prey.

  The guild’s contributions are too high, so they are targeting him.

  “Very well,” Daniel said. “We will attack in four days.”

  “Four days!” The handlebar-mustached sect leader’s voice rose in anger.

  “Are the Adventurer’s Guild such cowards?” The bald man shook his head, apparently saddened by the turn of events.

  “We have a job to do, and we will complete it.” Daniel’s eyes rose from the table with cold indifference.

  Gudriksson felt as if a blade were pressed against his neck. He backed up slightly from the commander’s aura.

  Daniel’s eyes slid to Gudriksson as he bowed his head. “The Adventurer’s Guild would be pleased to lead the attack on nightfall of the fourth day.”

  “I will place my siege weaponry under your command. Please use it as you see fit. Once you have a plan, visit me again. I know your people must need you.”

  “Thank you, Commander Gudriksson.” Daniel dipped his head lower and headed out of the command center.

  Gudriksson turned to face the sect commanders.

  “Mister Gudriksson, we are all from sects here. We cannot lose the momentum! We must not stall!” The bald man clicked his tongue, staring at the back of Commander Stuart as he walked away.

  “And your Green Swan sect contributed so heavily in the defense of Reynir?” Gudriksson’s voice came out in a growl. “Interesting how a few hundred scraps can turn into some thousand with one battle.”

  The sect commanders hid their snarls behind their drinks.

  Niemm was waiting for Domonos when he returned.

  “Had enough of the fine food and drink?”

  “I could hardly get away.” Domonos grinned.

  Zukal stood from this field chair, joining them.

  “We secure?”

  “Yeah, no one is gonna hear what we say.”

  “Good. Preparations for the siege weaponry?”

  “Trebuchets are being built and mana cannons checked.”

  “Have sound-cancelling formations on them, so they don’t keep our people awake. For the next three days, I want to bombard the hell out of that barrier. Keep the Institute members awake and tired. Also, use the trebuchets to create paths through to the wall. Tear up the ground and destroy the magical traps. On the night of the third day, our mounted forces will rush the walls. We’ll only use trebuchets to cover them until the last bit to the wall. They’ll have mana barriers for cover. They’re to breach the wall in as many places as possible. The mounted forces will charge into the city. No decisive engagements; just set fire to everything they can and avoid the center of the city. Rush out to the flanks and breakout of the city.”

  Domonos traced a line from where the guild was camped at the wall. Two lines split along the wall, while a third larger force entered the city and split into groups spreading to the right and left flank, hitting the left and right walls before exiting.

  It looked like one Y stacked upon another.

  “That will hurt them,” Zukal said.

  “Why do I feel that I’m not going to be part of the mounted force?” Niemm asked.

  “Do you have a dungeon core?”

  Niemm’s face turned into a slow smile. “Yeah.”

  “Standard kit among special team leaders: one Lesser Mortal dungeon core,” Zukal said, recalling from somewhere.

  “Spells would get tracked if used under the city, though dungeon cores won’t because they are part of the Ten Realms.”

  “Unless you use a special formation,” Niemm corrected.

  “A formation I doubt Meokar has. Niemm, your special team will decapitate the Meokar’s leadership.”


  “Head off unseen, use the dungeon core to create a tunnel under Meokar, and kill the elders. Easy enough.”

  “Thankfully, Roska was able to get you a rather detailed map of the inside of the treasury and the inner compound. The treasury shouldn’t have too many guards around it now.”

  “Damn, were you planning that far ahead?” Niemm asked.

  “Things just came together.” Domonos shrugged.

  “If we offer them terms of surrender, it could weaken their resolve. They have nowhere to run. Some of them have clans and others with the Institute, but the low-level soldiers might just be sect students without backing,” Zukal suggested.

  “Do it,” Domonos said.

  “Do you think the other sects will honor it?” Niemm asked

  “Well, Blaze is here.” Domonos’s lips cracked, showing teeth underneath. “And all the Ten Realms should feel scared if a council member gets angry.”

  It was two days after the fighter’s competition had come to a close.

  Commander Glosil, Director Elan, Lieutenant Colonel Yui, and Kanoa were in Alva’s command center.

  “Colonel Domonos has reached Meokar. He’s been bombarding the city for two days. Tomorrow night, he will carry out his decapitation mission.

  “Blaze and Jasper have been contacted by other groups that are attacking or making plans to attack Willful Institute locations.

  “The manufacturing facilities of the military will operate at one hundred percent to create weapons, armor, and equipment to support the Adventurer’s Guild. We will support from the shadows while Domonos will assist in leading. Yui, Kanoa—I require members from your close protection detail to assist the Adventurer’s Guild and continue to support their chain of command.”

  “Yes sir!” Kanoa and Yui replied as one.

  “That leaves our three targets.” Glosil looked at Elan. “The Willful Institute spreads across the realms. There are three key locations they hold that few other sects would willingly attack. Two are located in the Fifth Realm, and one is in the Sixth Realm. The two in the Fifth Realm are Ashbourne and Saenora. Ashbourne is a training facility for warriors looking to pass the entrance examinations and enter the academies. Saenora is also a training facility, but for crafters. Both locations are heavily defended. With the ongoing attacks, this is only going to increase. These locations have trained members who have been picked by sects in the Seventh Realm.”

  “You said there was a third?” Kanoa asked.

  “Henghou city, the seat of power of the Willful Institute. Well, to be more accurate, the dungeon outpost they control. It is a cornerstone of their entire sect. The resources they gather from that location are massive. Just in fees alone that they collect from adventurers using their outpost, they can support themselves and the training facilities in the Fifth Realm. While it is a target for us, it is secondary. Although things seem more civilized in the higher realms, they are much colder. As the Willful Institute’s power declines, the powers that be in the Sixth Realm might be interested in taking the Willful Institute’s outpost from them. There is also the opportunity for us to use it as a bargaining chip with other powers.”

  Glosil opened his mouth to speak. A massive wave of mana shot through the room like a wave, shaking it.

  “What the hell was that?” Yui asked.

  “Full readiness! Split up!” Glosil barked.

  They ran out of the conference room. Elan was escorted away by his guards. Yui and Kanoa used the tunnels to head to different command centers.

  “The work just finished on the Water floor formation. Mana went down instead of up!”

  “What?”

  “The power surge was too much. We’re leaking mana!”

  “Keep it contained! Focus all the mana inside Alva. I want every mana-gathering formation operating at one hundred percent. Check the area. See how many people noticed it!”

  46

  Change in Plans

  Grand Elder Mendes stood at the window of the council chamber. The light from the cannons and ripples of the trebuchets stone payloads striking the city’s mana barrier lit up his face.

  “Grand Elder?” Elder Rei said from the entrance of the darkened room. The lights from the attacks brought any change in the room.

  “Do you think I was wrong?” Mendes asked.

  “Grand Elder, I-I don’t know what you mean!” Elder Rei said stubbornly, holding onto something that allowed him to fight Mendes’s words.

  Mendes looked from the window, the deadly light illuminating his tired face.

  “Rei.”

  Elder Rei breathed out slowly. It seemed to sap his energy, leaving an old, reminiscent man.

  “If we were to give into the demands that everyone placed upon us, the Institute would surely collapse. Everything is a balance—with the other sects, with even a guild. Somewhere, the scales tipped out of our favor. Was it with the killing of the Adventurer’s Guild members? Was it when we sent bandits to attack trading convoys of competing sects and sold their goods as our own?” He shrugged limply.

  “What’s done is done. What of our fighters?”

  “They’re rejects who didn’t ascend to the Fourth Realm or they don’t have the connections to get out of here. They were supposed to attain glory and position with the attack on Reynir. Their friends were killed at Reynir, and they were chased all the way here. They’ve been left behind. The enemy constantly asks for them to surrender, telling them they’ll be treated well.”

  “At the same time, they attack day and night with trebuchet and mana cannons, making it nearly impossible to sleep unless you have sound-cancelling formations.”

  “They’re using siege weaponry they recovered from us at Reynir and are moving the weaponry they had on their walls.”

  “Sorry I forgot those, Grand Elder.”

  Mendes chuckled to himself and turned back to the mana barrier and the attacks landing on it.

  “Get some rest, Elder Rei. Our sources say that they’ll attack tomorrow night.”

  “Yes, Grand Elder.”

  Mendes stood in silence. Blooms of light flashes burned into his eyes.

  “So, is there a reason we’re getting geared up without the other sects knowing?” Zukal asked as Domonos buttoned the top of his vest while walking down a camp road toward the forward observation towers facing Meokar.

  Guild members were between their tents, checking their weapons and gear, nursing hot tea that the cafeteria had prepared for them.

  “I don’t trust them. That’s why. I also told them that we would be attacking tomorrow.”

  Zukal snorted as they reached the wooden tower, climbing the stairs to the top.

  Domonos looked at Meokar’s mana barrier. “Looks good. The mana cannons moved to the flanks yesterday, so they should be used to it. The flashes will make the barrier hard to see through. And it gives us a clear corridor to advance our people through.”

  “The first two groups are ready to go,” Zukal said.

  “Send them up,” Domonos said. “Make sure the trebuchets shift their fire.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Domonos glanced over to the left of the tower. Behind a dirt berm hidden from everyone, a group of mounted guild members waited.

  The group leader tore a spell scroll. An illusion fell over them, making them blur with the background.

  They curled around the berm. Domonos used Mana Sight to track them as they headed across the dead ground, a sword aimed at Meokar.

  Domonos glanced over to the right side of the tower, just able to make out signs of the group as they disappeared into the night.

  A new group moved into position. Behind them, guild members got their mounts out from the stables.

  “I was a little confused with the design at first. Why would the camp be a rectangle and have the short side facing the enemy? The entire camp is designed to move the guild members forward into the stables, ready their mounts, mount up, and head toward Meokar,” Zukal said.

  “P
re-planning. Try to get everything ready ahead of time, so it’s harder to get fucked up. I hate this part.”

  “What part?”

  “Waiting to see if all the pre-planning will work.”

  Gudriksson was studying the numerous plans the sect commanders had submitted to him. For all their talk, they were more than happy to wait out the attacks.

  “Sir! Commander! The guild is attacking!” A guard ran into the command center.

  “What?” Gudriksson dropped the plans, stroking his storage ring, ready to draw his weapon.

  “They told the siege weapons to stop firing. Sent people to make sure they weren’t attacking.”

  Gudriksson heard a sound very different from siege weapons hitting a mana barrier. He ran out of the command center. A hole had appeared in the Meokar wall.

  Another explosion went off as another section of wall cracked and collapsed inward.

  “Message from Commander Stuart,” a man wearing the Adventurer’s Guild emblem yelled, holding out a scroll.

  The man seemed relaxed and at ease. Dew had formed on his armor.

  Gudriksson took the scroll. “How long have you been waiting there?”

  “Last three hours, sir. Was told to give you the scroll when the wall collapsed.”

  Gudriksson read the scroll that outlined Commander Stuart’s plan.

  “Prepare our people to attack right away. Mobilize everyone. Send my orders to the other sects.”

  The wall exploded in more locations. The Institute was waking up; siege weapons attacked where the breaches were, hitting mana barriers that dissipated the illusion spells that had covered the Adventurer’s Guild’s mounted forces.

  “Spread it out, and remember, if you get lost, just follow the rest of your guild members!” Bai Ping yelled as he led his squad through a breach.

  He rolled with his mount as they jumped down the hill of broken stone.

  Beasts and guild members lay here and there, but the Institute’s guards littered the ground. They’d been caught unaware until the last minute.