Forged By The Apocalypse - A LitRPG With Draconic Potential

The battle began before we reached the ground. I swept the other falling members of my group in a parachute of air, but my control was stripped away by another blast of black magic. A well-timed Mana Barrier protected us from the worst of the damage but we were all flung away into the shadows. They would have to fend for themselves, which I could make easier by keeping the big guy’s attention.

The darkness alighted as I activated my mana. The Dao within me had been waiting patiently for the moment I unleashed it, challenged by Mortesax and the lich’s immense level of control. However, I had not been named Dao Breaker by the System for nothing. I had not been given achievements by accident. My name was Grant Kaeron and this relic was just another roadblock in my way.

My Dao Constellation came to life, fully expressed for the first time. The Dao Avatar of the Dragon gathered power from the Dao Font of Tempests, the two perfectly in sync. I waved a hand and the emptiness ignited with light. My mana was suffusive, passively extending from me like a cloud at all times. Every molecule of my power was connected to the whole, and I loaded each of these particles with as much energy as I could. Mana Bolt was honestly too small a name for the attacks at this point, but my thoughts were on making sure it would land.

The light of my mana cast the world in shadows. We still fell, and although I had created a gleaming flare of light and magic, the walls of the cavern we fell into were hard to make out due to distance. It was truly gargantuan. My target was not the walls, however, so I focused on the falling Lich. While it did not have much in the way of facial expressions, its skin mask seemed to smirk at me. The perceived insult was enough to start the salvo, and I loosed the mana I was holding at the ready.

The world filled with screaming mana, scorching the air. A gale force explosion of force followed, each of my Mana Bolts holding the weight and power of both Dragon and Tempests. Each bolt landed like lightning, the might of a hurricane behind each. The power was enough to further scatter me away. The ground was approaching, so I slowed my descent with Air Manipulation and watched the light show. I began layering Infusions atop one another to prepare for the battle to come. The last thing I had seen was that smug smirk.

No way this was going to be as easy as an opening barrage.

I sensed the danger more than saw it. My control over air gave me the slightest warning as Mortesax’s warhammer sailed past my head. It had a huge slab of metal for a head and I just slipped out the way, letting it smash into the floor I had just reached. Using the cracks in the ground made by the blow for purchase, I shoved my Alternating Armament into the floor and vaulted away. Mortesax followed immediately, as though he had become my shadow. There was a hint of a skill in his chase, but I didn’t have time to think.

Blow after blow started to rain down on my guard. If I wasn’t genuinely scared that a moment’s mistake would get me killed, I would have scoffed at my earlier comparison. These were thunderous blows, not the pitter patter I had hit Mortesax with earlier. Such light rain wouldn’t erode the mountain in front of me. Even with multiple Infusions stacked, Mortesax was keeping me on the defensive. He wasn’t even swinging the hammer with two hands.

With part of me wishing Mortesax was part dragon to give me the boost from my title, I cursed and changed tactics. I had given myself some practice with the equipment, so I was already seeping vitality into the Shield of Abandon. The effect was strange, both stealing strength and giving me back more in return. The power in my limbs had a hollowness which I knew from feeling and experience would fade quickly if not constantly fed. The time limit for the battle had started.

In truth, it had begun the second the System stripped Mortesax of the ability to rebel. There was something interesting about the mindset of these monsters, and something tragic about the idea they were trapped in some kind of limbo. There was nothing I could do about such a thing, nor was I sure I would if given the chance. These beings were reflections of much more powerful existences, and letting myself be confused by them was a step too far.

Scarring the Tree, though? That’s impressive. I wondered at the feat as I worked out the rhythm of Mortesax’s attacks. There was so much force in its swings that staying on the ground was nearly impossible. I braced myself by combining Air Manipulation, the strength from the shield and a pair of solid Mana Barriers. The draining cost of even fighting evenly with Mortesax was terrifying. The difference between grades was staggering, and I didn’t think for a moment that Mortesax was a fresh Grade Two.

That didn’t mean I thought I would lose, either.

So what if the fight was costly? The sixteen levels I had gained weren’t just for show. It was Naea’s favourite nickname for me. I had the mana pool of a monster, myself. Thinking of my faithful familiar forced even more power into my counter swing, none of it fake or hollow. She would be out there, fighting to protect the town I had half-doomed, and this puppet of the System was the only thing standing between me and saving Londimin from my own actions.

Carried by the weight of my fears, hopes and convictions, as well as a healthy expenditure of mana, the Grim Blade of Nezzerul slashed through the air. It sailed without a hint of resistance, the blade itself singing as space itself was scored by its tip. The special effect of this sword had reminded me of the Yo Staff which had saved my life more than once. The efficacy of the blade when charged seemed to have no limit in my tests, and I didn’t hold back anything here.

I had even taken the plunge a few rooms ago based on how impressive the Grim Blade had performed and filled one of my two remaining slots of Weapon Mastery. The ability was the System equivalent of having money burning a hole in my pocket, but I had restrained myself. Now I had an effective weapon to channel the skill through, I felt it was finally time to add to the repertoire.

The fight wasn’t over, but around forty percent of my energy had been spent setting up this blow. I roared as the mana-filled blade clashed with the handle Mortesax’s warhammer. My hope had been to split it in two, but the sword whipped into the intensely durable wood leaving a large scar. Just a small nick, for all that work. Unbidden and unwelcome, a smile came to my lips.

Finally, I had found a real challenge.

———————————————————

It was all Hassian could do to keep the three others protected from the strange energies of Dao in the cavern. When he had bound to the Aspect, the music of its magic had sung a melody Hassian had known his whole life long. The Aspect of Pressure whispered the same lullaby his mother had sang to him on the nights when the monsters crawled from the sea.

The song of the depths whistled cautiously onwards as Hassian maintained the barrier. Cal was protecting himself, and his Dao was much less suited to the task of protecting the others. He was lightening Hassian’s load bit by bit as he grew in experience, forged anew by the pungent and malicious whips that Mortesax sent their way. Even as he battled Grant, the boss was not leaving them alone. The Dao of Death sank into the ground around them and began to fester.

“Why are we here?” One of the human brothers asked. Hassian had little time for them, judging them as lucky fools riding the coattails of one much stronger than themselves. Over the course of their relatively short journey, his opinion had changed. He recognised first that the feeling was hypocritical, and then later as his Dao began to sing, he realised how little they could have known about the strength they followed. All they had known was that this place would be dangerous, and they entered anyway. Hassian respected the bravery of these humans.

That didn’t mean he could tell the two nearly identical siblings apart by voice, however. He did not reply immediately, a dense strike of Dao forcing his jaw clenched. In place of Hassian’s venomous retort, his brother spoke and a new perspective appeared. Hassian glanced over his shoulder to remind himself who was who. “We’re here to do what we can,” the halberd-wielding Morris answered. Larry, Rashid and Cal grunted in response.

That was answer enough. Hassian smiled as Cal’s Dao reacted positively to the encouragement, enveloping everyone and bolstering the defence. Of course, as soon as the harassment from the Dao lessened, a new problem arose. Literally. It seemed as though the ground itself began to move, yet the truth was even more sinister. “Look out!” Hassian called, gathering his mana into the Rimebound Hand Axes as his sides.

The Dao of Death had found purchase somewhere within the floor of the cavern. Arms began to rip themselves from the rock they had half-fossilised into, yanking the rest of their ancient bones from the floor in a grim awakening. In preparation for battle, Hassian activated the skill he received from binding with his Aspect. The ground, which he now expected was bone, groaned and cracked under his new weight.

Skill - Crushing Depths

The many islands of Gibral have one thing in common. Deep below them, danger lurks. Yet, for all the monsters found under the waves, none are more deadly than the oceans themselves. The bountiful seas have taken more lives than any creature in existence.

Now, a portion of that power is your’s.

The ability was complex, which Hassian hoped meant it had room to grow. For now, the effects were still transformative. Cal’s energy also began to burn brightly as his own active skills initiated. For Cal, the ability made him much more limber, able to weave with his own momentum in normally impossible ways. For Hassian, it was weight. Weight was power, and any resistance met could be crushed if you only applied enough pressure.

“This is what we can do!” Hassian shouted, raising the battle cry. They could not help Grant against the boss, but they could stop this swarm from making his life harder, at least. With nothing left to say, in the near pitch black of the cavern, the four of them set about destroying the unwanted additions to the battle. The true fight was not for minions like them. It was for monsters.

Monsters like Grant.