Seventh Realm Part 1: A LitRPG Fantasy series (The Ten Realms Book 8)

by Michael Chatfield

  Rugrat felt like a blade had passed over his skin as spells entered his domain.

  “Spread the fuck out!” Rugrat yelled through the sound transmission device.

  The units spread out to either side as Rugrat felt pinpricks against his skin and the chill in the air as the skies above were gathered into a spell.

  Like giants surfacing from the depths, mana transformed through spell and elements, stilled, given new purpose. The sky screamed as ice and formed air were released, cutting a path through the ancient forest.

  Rugrat covered his face as ice hit trees with such force they turned into fountains of wood.

  George barrelled forward, under the falling tree, and through the rain of splinters the size of Rugrat’s forearm.

  They hammered the riders and their beasts as they charged onward. Rugrat willed George to move faster out of this hell.

  The air shimmered as air spears rained down on an artillery member. His back armor took the impacts while his panther let out a horrible mewl as spears lanced through his hindquarters, tearing off its rear half even as it continued forward.

  The rider yelled as he was thrown free, hitting the ground and rolling. Another rider diverted. A meteor slammed into where he had been just moments ago, causing the panther to half-stutter as he regained his footing.

  The rider grabbed his thrown comrade and pulled him up. His leg and arm were at an unnatural angle as he was pulled in front of his savior.

  Rugrat gathered his mana, using his senses instead of his eyes, searching the skies.

  George rushed forward, taking care of the path ahead.

  Rugrat heard and felt the trees being torn apart all around. He ducked from ice arrows that buzzed past his head and struck the mana barrier of a special team member.

  Meteors tore through trees and crashed into the ground, jolting Rugrat and George, sending others flying and clearing trees. Rugrat’s insides twisted into jelly, ingraining the fear of the random and sudden death.

  Where are you, you bastards?

  Rugrat gathered his power, drinking in the mana around him as George jumped over a stream that had cut deep into the earth.

  Rugrat lunged, taking the impact of landing on the other side. The platoon bounded over without a pause.

  “To the east! Follow me!” Second Lieutenant Coutu’s words were punctuated with shifting shadows as meteors barrelled down.

  The forest shook and rumbled once more.

  “Found you!” Rugrat locked onto where the spells were being created. Aerial beasts held their positions in the sky as mages formed spells between their hands, unleashing them below. Formations appeared all around them.

  Two unlucky souls were hit by the meteors. Another’s mount was killed, everything below his stomach torn away as he screamed.

  Rugrat’s open hand gathered the elements needed into a swirling mass. He infused his will into the spell and powered it with his mana, then finished with his cast.

  He threw out the spell. Like a bullet, it took off into the sky and erupted among the aerial mounts, outlining them through the thick canopy.

  The aerial beasts lurched from the light and their spells failed the last stages of casting, creating feedback as they spat blood.

  “Target marked!” Rugrat channeled power.

  The spell clicked together as he directed the resonant power and pressed it into the ground. Stone and metal shot out like rain recalled to the heavens. It lengthened and sharpened, turning into a net of projectiles as reins of red appeared along their lengths.

  They crossed the downward spells, which rippled across the sky with explosions that shook trees that had stood for millennia.

  The ground behind the retreating artillery platoon was sucked into the sky.

  The aerial casters hurriedly used counter-spells. They formed sheets of solid air using their mana barriers, while Rugrat’s stone and metal rain struck like a tropical thunderstorm across a calm lake. The mana barriers lit up. Their golden hue darkened to brown, but held as the aerial casters rained down air spears and meteors.

  The special team and mages joined in.

  In a rush of air, the sky twisted, compressing and solidifying into spears and blades.

  Trees bent and shifted, weaving the canopy together like intertwining hands, creating a lattice overhead.

  The skies were pulled together into a faint mist. Clouds darkened and swirled as lightning crackled in its depths; water, like blue gems, shone brighter, turning white with a chilling edge.

  Spells hit the latticed trees, tearing apart their cover. It tried to reform even as more holes punched through it like a drunk fighter that just wouldn’t stay down.

  The formed air, released from their bonds, shot into the skies above, shifting the sun’s light into a rainbow of color.

  Ice, rain, and lightning intertwined in blinding light, hitting the aerial casters’ mana barrier.

  The aerial casters weren’t expecting such a counterattack as they poured their power into their defenses and tried to lash back at the enemy below.

  Rugrat ducked as a meteor hit a latticed tree above and kept coming. Shit. He flexed his domain and yelled, creating a crude spell that drew in surrounding mana into a beam of blue, almost white light. It crashed into the meteor, shattering it, and piercing through.

  Rubble fell as Rugrat’s metal and stone spell faltered for half a second.

  There were screams of pain among his people, but if they could scream, they could be healed.

  Rugrat exerted his command on the mana. It lit up the canopy as it flowed from the ground to his fingers, into the stone and steel, adding blue veins to the red.

  How do you like me now?

  The spells struck the mana barriers in a twist of red and blue streaks.

  The casters drew back as their barrier exploded. Without the barriers, the casters were forced to draw from their mana reserves, creating thinner personal mana barriers. They broke, looking to escape.

  The attacks threaded through the aerial formation, hitting some, missing others.

  The attacks on the ground disappeared as the special team members tore through the mages.

  Rugrat reshaped the purpose given to the spells within his domain. They bloomed into chains of fire and mana, raking the aerial casters as they passed, capturing some and then detonating their energy in a directed blast.

  Barriers gave way as lightning arced and razor ice slashed. The wind howled, cutting and tearing at those unlucky enough to be in its path. Then the casters dispersed and flew out of range from Rugrat and his fellow mages.

  The spells canceled as the artillery and special teams kept their forward momentum. Instead of being used for destruction, the mages used their spells to heal the screaming wounded, carrying out immediate first aid as they continued to weave through the forest. Those too wounded to ride were stored in beast storage crates.

  Rugrat looked at the scars and fallen trees that lay in their wake.

  “Birds are eight minutes out! Keep it moving. Make sure you’re getting stamina into the wounded! Second Mages Squad, watch the skies!” Master Sergeant Warren, Couto’s second-in-command yelled.

  If he’s talking, Couto must be out of action.

  There weren’t many left standing. Soldiers used revival needles, bandages, and salves on their mounts and friends, storing them away into beast storage crates where medics could work into them.

  Rugrat tore his eyes away and looked to the sky.

  “What the fuck happened?” Jackie asked on the Special Team’s channel.

  “They have teleportation formations.” Gong Jin’s words were like iron in Rugrat’s gut.

  “So, when they were pulling back to the rear…” Jackie’s words trailed off.

  “They were gathering their forces, reorganizing them for a push. The sects are charging Vuzgal in every direction right now. Came with a bunch of aerial forces it seems,” Gong Jin said.

  They continued to ride.

  “The
y have momentum on their side now,” Rugrat said. “We’re not just facing a few thousand anymore. They can bring all their strength to bear and who knows if they have more teleportation formations out there. They’ll get their reinforcements and more allies now.”

  They rode in silence, darkness holding over them.

  “Special Team Three, left side. Mage squad two, right side perimeter defenses!” Warren called out.

  They exited the forest, reaching a hill that looked out over the valley and their pickup point.

  Gong Jin led the special team. They looped around to the left, creating a semi-circle as the mages did the same on the other side.

  “Dismount and get low!” Gong Jin yelled.

  Rugrat unlimbered his repeater and slid off. He hit the ground and dropped into the prone position. George shrunk to the size of a dog, lying in the grass beside him. The wounded were pulled from the mounts into a casualty point in the middle of the defenses.

  “Rugrat, Simms, go help the casualties,” Gong Jin said.

  “On it!” They both replied. Rugrat got up, leaving George watching his position as two artillery members took it. Rugrat stored his repeater, looking at the bloody stained mess in the middle of the grass.

  Camouflage was darkened with fresh or drying blood as healers-turned-medics worked on their patients.

  The patients’ carriers had open flaps. The formations underneath had all been activated. The conqueror armor linked them to everyone, increasing their recovery speed.

  Simms and Rugrat jogged over together, spotting a gunnery sergeant covered in blood.

  The sergeant pointed to different groups. “Pri Alphas, Bravos, Charlies, work your way down.” Blood covered his hands as he worked on the patient in front of him; his assistant squeezed an IV bag under his knee while he secured a clotting bandage.

  “Got it.” Rugrat and Simms ran to the twisted forms in the grass.

  Rugrat moved to a soldier covered in burns along his right side, down his face, his neck and arm, splattering against his ribs and leg. The man was whimpering and gargling blood. Rugrat grabbed the tag stapled to his shoulder. Artery right side, bleeding into main body cavity, draining out of a hole in right side. Rib cage.

  Rugrat’s domain told him all he needed to know. The man was bleeding into his thoracic cavity, the pressure was weighing on his lungs. The hole in his side was draining the blood out, thankfully, but it was hard to breathe, and he was still bleeding.

  He healed the man’s trachea and held his hand above the man’s mouth. Threads of mana went down the man’s throat. They encircled the blood inside his trachea and built in his lungs.

  Rugrat pulled out the ball of blood and flicked it on the grass as he moved to the next person.

  They were a collection of broken limbs and shards of wood.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” the man sputtered through bloody lips.

  “You shut the fuck up now, Delan!” The mage working on him yelled.

  Rugrat pulled out additional tourniquets. “Get his arms. I have his legs.”

  The mage grabbed them and tore them open, looping a second tourniquet around his still bleeding legs.

  Rugrat secured the tourniquets around the man’s bicep’s, tightening them with a groan from the patient. That should concentrate the healing and stamina potions into his torso. Fucking mess. Stamina is waning.

  Rugrat pulled out a revival needle and stabbed the man in the heart. He let out a small gasp as Rugrat injected the potion payload before he drew the needle out. “Keep him awake and focus on healing his head. Swelling around there,” Rugrat told the mage.

  The mage saw his medical patch and nodded. “Okay.”

  Rugrat patted him on the shoulder, leaving a bloody handprint, and was onto the next.

  “Birds incoming!” someone yelled.

  Rugrat was too focused on the wounded to look up.

  The woman he was treating had been badly burnt. A near hit with a meteor spell had sent burning hot stone through her body, cauterizing the wounds as they went.

  Rugrat was securing her tourniquets when he felt her heart still. “Clear!”

  The other mage leaned back as Rugrat rubbed his thumb across his two left fingers as if he was snapping them. A spark formed on his fingers as he pressed them to the woman’s side.

  She jolted from the electricity. Her heart fluttered.

  “No, you don’t!” Rugrat jolted her again, increasing the lightning.

  Her heart fluttered again.

  The mage put a breather to her mouth and squeezed the attached pump, forcing air into her lungs.

  Rugrat hit her again. Her heart picked up pace.

  Wind, getting stronger every second, washed over the field.

  “Landing!”

  “Wounded are first to load!”

  Rugrat leaned over his patient to cover her. Dust, grass, bits of discarded medical packaging, and empty IV bags hit Rugrat and flew on over the shimmering grass that bowed under the powerful wing beats of the first kestrel as it landed.

  The mage, with Rugrat shielding the woman with his body as well, pumped air into her lungs as her heartbeat grew stronger.

  The wind died down.

  “Move it!” Warren yelled.

  Rugrat pulled out a revival needle. He’d needed too many already.

  He stabbed it into the woman’s heart and injected it. She took a fresh breath, sputtering as the mage moved the breather to the side. Rugrat extracted the needle.

  “Recovery position.”

  They rolled her onto her side as she coughed and convulsed. Rugrat used his mana manipulation to draw everything out of her lungs in one shot.

  “We have to move her!” a mage yelled.

  Rugrat nodded to the mage holding the end of the tarp she was lying on. “Go for it.”

  He stood and got out of the way with his helper. The two mages at either end grabbed the tarp and hauled her for the waiting kestrel, its wings out and ready to take off at a moment’s notice.

  There were too few helpers for so many wounded, and Rugrat turned to the mage that had been working the breather. “We’ll grab another one.”

  He gave Rugrat a thumbs up. They moved to a man in a tarp and grabbed either end. Rugrat barely felt the weight as they ran with the line of mages carrying wounded into the kestrel. The wooden cabin had been transformed, creating three rows of cots four high. Formations were on each cot, promoting stamina and low-grade healing spells.

  A stack formation was strapped between where the gunners would link to the conqueror’s armor.

  Mages ran out of the kestrel as soon as they had released their payload.

  Rugrat and his helper brought their wounded in. The gunner slapped a cot, indicating to Rugrat and his helper where to put the soldier.

  The gunner glanced at the tag as they ran out, slapping another cot for the next wounded.

  Rugrat and his helper moved to the walking wounded, helping them into the kestrel. The cots at the rear turned into seats.

  The gunners were working up and down the cots, checking on their new payload.

  The gunnery sergeant Rugrat had seen before waved him over. His clothes were covered in more blood than before, creating dark stains. “We need healers on the bird. You up for it?”

  “I’m with you.” Rugrat looked at him and the three other staff sergeants. All of them had to have trained as medics to get their current rank.

  Rugrat and the sergeants moved between the cots, tending to the wounded. Able-bodied men and women filed into the last remaining seats as quickly as possible. Rugrat sensed the second kestrel waiting in the air to take the remainder of the platoon.

  Follow Gong Jing, George. Rugrat thought to his mount.

  He got the feeling of an acknowledging woof as he checked IV lines and bags hanging from carabiners on the kestrel’s cabin ceiling.

  The cabin darkened as the rear ramp closed.

  “Hold on.” The chief’s voice was tight in a way th
at promised his best skill and speed for the souls that relied on him.

  Enhancing spells covered the kestrel as the crew, gunners included, added their own buffing spells.

  They shot into the air, rising quickly as they piled on the speed.

  Rugrat leaned into it as he moved up and down the cots. He added more bandages to those that had come free as they burned with power. The kestrel showed her full might as she surged forth, cutting between the mountains in favor of speed.

  “Hold on.”

  They went into a dive. The cabin shook as the formations glowed with power and the left door gun opened up.

  “Left side!”

  The gunner’s repeater sent vibrations through the kestrel as the rear door gunner added in his own attacks.

  “Pump and dump!” The chief yelled as shells ejected from the top of the cabin. They ignited their alchemical payload and formations, creating illusions to confuse the enemy’s spells and cover the kestrel in smoke.

  Their speed shot them past whatever enemy they had seen. Rugrat continued to work.

  “Landing in one minute!” the chief yelled.

  They kept coming in fast.

  “Ten seconds!”

  Rugrat braced as the kestrel shifted her body, her wings battling the wind as she brought them down.

  “Prepare to open casualty bays!” the chief said as the gunners both opened a box on the ceiling and grabbed a handle.

  The kestrel landed with a loss of momentum, taking the weight on her back easily.

  “Open, open, open!”

  The gunners pulled their handles, activating a formation as the limbs of the cabin walls unlinked and creaked open, revealing platforms on either side of the kestrel with medics ready and waiting, tables at the ready. They ran forward, following branches and vines that wove underneath their feet, hooking into the lower section of the Kestrel Cabin as it opened to greet them. The branches and vines created a floor as they shifted the wounded from the cabin cots to gurneys before they were rushed away. A medic attached to each of them as they read their tags, did their scans, and started to save their lives instead of just hold onto them.

  In just seconds, the outer cots were emptied; the gunners pressed another formation and the cots’ roots folded up, allowing access to the central cots. The able-bodied and walking wounded were unloaded from the rear. Rugrat and the rest of the attending sergeants-turned-medics moved out of the way to let others do their job.