The Iron Dragons: A Fantasy LitRPG (Dragon Kings of the New World Book 3)

by Dante Doom

  "Hahahah, kill 'em!" the rogue triumphantly shouted.

  Van glanced over to see that Kylian was busy trying to pin down the other rogue, but he wasn't nearly fast enough. He held up the haft of his hammer to block another blow from the rogue; the steel weapons clattered loudly against one another.

  "This strategy isn't working!" Kylian grunted.

  "Sang, a little help?" Van called out as he swung his hammer low, to try and knock the rogue off of his feet. The rogue flipped over Van's head and threw a dagger right into his shoulder at the same time. 50 damage floated above Van's head. His health was seriously starting to drop, and if they kept this up, he'd be dead in no time.

  "Sang!" Van shouted as he spun around to face this foe, only to realize that Sang was lying on the ground, dead. "Crap! Sahara! I thought you were protecting her!"

  "Trying… sir!" Sahara said as she wrestled against a large player who had grabbed her by the back of the head and was trying to pin her to the ground.

  "This is a mess!" Van shouted to Kylian, who was now surrounded by four other players, all of whom were armed with halberds and axes.

  "What? I thought things were going just fine!" Kylian shouted before an axe crashed into his skull, killing him instantly.

  "Arrrgh!" Van yelled as he blocked the rogue's perpetual knife attacks against him. The entire area had descended into chaos now, and he could barely keep up with what was going on around him. People were charging at him, only to be shot down by archers, who were in turn attacked by other players. It was a nightmare, and Van had no idea if they were going to win this one. He had to think quickly, though. He took a deep breath and feinted swinging his weapon at the rogue, who quickly leapt back, giving Van just enough time to rush to where Sahara was still struggling.

  "Hahahaha! I'm gonna win this one!" the hulking monstrosity of a man said as he tried to strangle Sahara. No one was paying them any attention – probably because they were on the ground.

  Van let out a berserker roar and swung his hammer like a golf club, crashing it right into the mouth of the man trying to kill Sahara. Critical Hit 500 damage! floated above the man's face as his head made a sickening crunch of a sound. He slumped to the ground, dead.

  "I'm staying under here!" Sahara announced as she grabbed his body and rolled it over herself so that she was concealed. "Just stay alive!"

  Van opened his mouth to call her a coward, but realized her strategy was brilliant. The longer each player stayed alive, the bigger a chance they had of winning this thing. Another arrow nailed him in the arm and he grunted as he took 15 damage. He turned then to see that there was a woman standing far off in the distance, armed with a bow. She had cleverly stayed back from all of the fighting and was on the other side of the melee. As soon as Van made eye contact with her, she balked.

  "Grahhhhh!" Van screamed at the top of his lungs as he charged straight toward the archer. She panicked and fired more arrows at him, but thanks to his Berserker Charge special ability, he was immune to any damage he took while using the charge action. He raised his hammer high and smashed it down on her before she could leap out of the way, killing her instantly.

  "Whew!" Van sighed as he spun around to see that there were only eight people left. They had gathered in the center of the arena and were brutally attacking one another. Van waited for a few minutes as they killed one another off. Eventually, three came out of the fray victorious. They all wore the exact same sort of blue ribbon around their arms. They must be on a single team, he realized. They were all fighters, from the looks of it.

  "Crap," Van said when one of the shorter players, a woman wielding a morningstar, pointed at him. They all huddled together and then slowly advanced towards him, weapons at the ready.

  Van glanced around, but there was no one else alive except for him. Was Sahara still hiding underneath of that corpse? He hoped that she was.

  "Come over here and die!" Van shouted as he raised his hammer high. "I have killed many of you and I will continue to kill even more!" This bluff did nothing to dissuade the three fighters as they cautiously approached him.

  "Ha!" cried a triumphant voice in the distance. Van glanced over to see that Fredlin was now visible, and was on the opposite side of the enemy team. "Now, I will cast my most powerful fireball spell!" he shouted as he raised his hands.

  "Crap!" one of the players shouted, "A wizard!"

  This was the perfect moment, Van realized, and so while Fredlin distracted them, he rushed the three with his hammer at the ready. Two of the other players, the men, decided to run after Fredlin, leaving their companion behind. Van was much larger than the woman wielding a Morningstar, however, and she was already severely damaged from all of the fighting. She tried to stand her ground and fight against him, but she didn't have a chance. With a single blow, Van was able to drop her.

  "Take that, fiend!" Fredlin yelled as he cast his flash spell, causing bright lights to emit from his fingers. The flash of light struck both of the advancing fighters and they paused, screaming in agony as they dropped their weapons.

  While it had been no fireball spell, it would do. Van rushed up behind them and began to attack them with his hammer, smashing the largest one in the back of his head and dealing 200 damage. This dropped him to his knees, but he was still alive. Unable to see, the other player spun around towards Van and fumbled about, grabbing a hold of the haft of Van's weapon. At that exact moment, the words Your Rage Has Worn Off and You are Exhausted appeared in Van's field of vision, and he felt his muscles grow tired and weak. He could barely hold onto his own weapon as he tried to wrestle for control.

  "Need help!" Van shouted to Fredlin.

  "What am I supposed to do? I used my strongest spell!" Fredlin shouted back.

  "Why do wizards suck so much?" Van yelled in exasperation as he pulled back as hard as he could on his warhammer. The motion pushed the other player to pull back, too, and at the last moment, Van let go of the hammer, causing his foe to fall backwards. He drew his hand axe that he kept on his side and charged to finish off his foe, but felt a surge of pain run through his leg. The injury wouldn't let him move forward at anything like a fast pace.

  The player that Van had nailed in the back of the head stood up and shook himself. "Arrrrgh!" he screamed as the word Enraged popped up above his head.

  "Ah, great," Van muttered as the berserker charged him and began savagely punching him with his bare hands. Van tried to block the blows, but the fatigue from losing his own Berserk state was slowing him down too much. The words Nonlethal damage incurred: 200 appeared above his head and he fell to the ground, unable to move. Fortunately, a player attacking without martial arts training only dealt nonlethal damage, meaning that he wouldn't be killed no matter how much damage he took. However, he had been knocked down and would now be unable to move until the nonlethal damage healed, over time.

  "Kill the wizard – this guy's out!" the berserker said as he grabbed the warhammer from the other player.

  "Stay back!" Fredlin shouted as he raised his hands and slowly backed away from the two. "I am a highly trained wizard with amazing powers! Powers you have never heretofore seen!"

  "Yeah, sure," the berserker said as he raised his hammer high and charged at Fredlin. In the midst of rushing forward, though, he suddenly stopped moving and grabbed his stomach, gasping for air. Van could see a long blade sticking out of his back.

  "Ha!" Sahara shouted triumphantly as she shoved the berserker off of her weapon. "Now that was one well-used invisibility spell!" She looked over at Van. "I told your dumb ass to hide."

  "My bad," Van chuckled, genuinely surprised at Sahara's ingenuity. He hadn't expected this at all.

  The single remaining player took one look at Sahara's health bar and shook his head. "Aw, man, I'm not winning this one." And with that, he logged out.

  "Did we really win this one?" Van groaned. He couldn't believe it. They'd actually managed to pull it off and win the game.

  "Congratulations, pl
ayers!" said an ethereal voice. "You have won the challenge! Your team gets to move on to the next round! At this time, we are suspending the tournament until tomorrow, as Sleep Time is upon us. Log back in at 8:00 am EST sharp."

  "I can't wait for tomorrow!" Sahara said.

  "I can't either," Van muttered as he closed his eyes. "Hopefully, we'll be able to finish everything tomorrow. For good."

  Sang sat in the silence of her bedroom. A plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes was in front of her, but she didn't particularly feel like eating. Instead, she just sat at her desk and stared forward. That tournament had been exciting, but when she had been killed, she'd felt a real panic. For a moment, she'd thought that they would lose and it would all have been for nothing. Yet, somehow Van had chosen the right people for the job. Time and time again, he had proven his ability to manage and recruit the best talent. They'd survived to move on to the next challenge.

  There was a thumping at her door, causing her to jump to her feet. The thumping was frantic.

  "Coming!" Sang said as she grabbed the door and swung it open. Neil was sitting in a wheelchair in front of her, a scowl on his face.

  "Normally, I just kick the door open and announce I'm here," he grumbled, "but as you can see, I'm a little less than mobile right now."

  "Neil?" Sang gasped. "You're alive?"

  "Of course, I'm alive," Neil said. "There's no way in hell I'm dying before that nerd of yours does his job."

  "I thought you were in critical condition!" Sang said, shaking her head.

  "That's what I made the orderly tell everyone," Neil replied as he wheeled himself into her room. He groaned and stood up then, staggering over to Sang's bed, where he plopped down. "Look here," he said as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "Something's bugging me and I can't quite put my finger on it."

  "So you weren't in critical condition?" Sang asked, still unsure if Neil should be out and about. He still looked pretty injured to her.

  "Well, I was at one point, but I've got things to handle," Neil said as he took a drag of his cigarette. "Mainly, that guy who shot himself. Been driving me crazy. Why? Why the hell would Draco use an operative, only to have him just kill himself in front of us?"

  "Don't make me think about it," Sang said as she sat on the chair across from her bed. "That was too horrible."

  "Well, I start digging on this guy, right? Started looking up some information… and you'll never guess what I found," Neil said with a wicked grin.

  "What?"

  "This lunatic had no prior military service aside from working as an MP here," Neil said. "Someone set him up with a ton of false credentials. I did some searches and found out this fellow was actually in prison for an aggravated assault. His lawyer tried to prove him bonkers, but the court wasn't feeling it, so they sentenced him anyway. But from everything that I've read, it seems he had a history of mental illness. Severe hallucinations, schizophrenia, etc."

  "Someone gave him false military credentials?" Sang asked. "Who in the hell would do that? Why?"

  "It's gotta be a leak," Neil said as he leaned forward. "There's someone in this place that's been leaking information to the higher-ups at Draco. It's gotta be. When we, uh, politely questioned the senator, all of the information that he gave us had nothing to do with our operations. He didn't know anything about the specifics that we were planning, but he had been given orders to stop this at all costs."

  "Hmmm," Sang said as she ran her hand through her hair. A leak? "That would make some level of sense, but who could it be?"

  "No idea, but then a thought occurred to me," Neil continued as he finished his cigarette and flicked the butt onto her pristine floor. She wanted to yell at him for it, but didn’t have the heart. She was just glad to see that he was still alive. "What if we could lure this mole into revealing himself?"

  "How?" Sang asked.

  "Well, I gotta ask the question – why the hell would Draco shoot me and not you?"

  "I don't know," Sang said. "I keep asking myself that question, over and over again."

  Neil grinned a wicked grin again. "Because they're not sure they're gonna win this one. See, if they killed you and Van, the operation would still keep going. The Iron Dragons are still in motion and we've spread a lot of false intel about there being several different branches – across the country, running the game, too. So, Draco's starting to get worried and, instead of killing the leaders, they're just trying to weaken them. They traumatize you and it slows you down."

  "That explains why they bumped the tournament," Sang said. "Yeah, they've got to be nervous."

  "So, here's the thing: if they are so nervous, they'll take anything that they can get. They're all in at this point, so if they don't use any advantage they can get their hands on, they're in trouble."

  "I'm following," Sang said.

  "My plan's a simple one. We draw the leak out by staging a conflict between you and the CIA. Make it look like you're in trouble. The mole won't be able to resist making you an offer."

  Sang shrugged. "If there is a mole, you mean."

  "I'm dead certain there is," Neil said. "It could be any one of us. Frederick, O'Hara, Van, any of those operators."

  "You think O'Hara could be the mole?" Sang asked. "Isn't she your best friend?"

  "I love O'Hara like she's my own sister," Neil said, "but I pistol whipped my real sister last Thanksgiving. I don't trust anyone."

  "I don't even want to begin to ask what circumstances would warrant you pistol whipping your sister," Sang said as she put a hand on her face. "Sure, whatever your plan is, let's try it out. Maybe it'll work."

  "Great, we'll get into a fight in the cafeteria in an hour; that's when the staff is eating," Neil said as he stood to his feet and wobbled a little. "Urgh," he grunted as he put a hand on the bandage on his stomach.

  "Are you sure you're going to be okay doing this?" Sang asked. "I mean, health-wise?"

  "Oh, the doctor told me that if I move around too much I might die," Neil said, "but what the hell do doctors know?"

  "I would scold you," Sang said, "but the world is kind of in peril here, so I guess it makes sense to go forward."

  As Neil staggered to his wheelchair, refusing help from Sang, she couldn't help but remember the last thing he had said to her before he'd lapsed into unconsciousness from his gunshot wound.

  "Neil?" she asked as he sat in his chair.

  "What?" he barked, clearly annoyed by the pain and the question, both. He gritted his teeth hard and Sang could see that he was in agony.

  "You warned me about Van a while back. You told me that, if he did snap, he'd betray us. Do you think he could? Do you think he could throw away everything he's worked so hard for?"

  "That's the thing," Neil said as he turned his wheelchair around to leave her room. "He worked hard for his video game all of his life. These last three months have been only a sliver of his life. Would you trade everything away for just three measly months? He likes to play the hero, but when it comes down to it, I don’t think he has the guts to see his home burn down."

  "You think it doesn't take guts to betray his friends?"

  "Ha, you'd be surprised how easy cowardice is," Neil said as he shook his head. "You know him better than me, but that can be a double-edged sword. See, when you get close to someone, you kind of become blind to their flaws. The more you like them, the easier it is for you to miss something completely. You don't see the signs until it's too late."

  "What would you know about friendship, Neil?" Sang asked. "You're an abrasive jackass who routinely shoves guns into the mouths of people who irritate you."

  "My wife killed herself," Neil quietly whispered. "Ten years ago. I thought everything was going great, and then one day, she blew her brains out."

  "What?" Sang gasped. "Are… are you... serious?"

  Neil shrugged. "When you get too close, you don't see the signs. But when you look back, you see it clear as day. Sang, don't think for a second that Van won't sell
us out. If we're lucky, he won't. If you can prevent it, do everything you can to convince him the real world is worth living in. If you can't stop him politely, though… well, you know what to do."

  "Why not pull him off of the project then?" Sang asked. "If you're so convinced he'll betray us?"

  "You ever hear of Cassandra?" Neil asked as he wheeled off. "Cafeteria in one hour!"

  Sang shook her head as she watched the madman put on a trucker hat and sunglasses. After her last conversation with Van, it was clear to her that he would do what was necessary, regardless of the cost. Still, there was something about Neil's words that put doubt in her heart. The question was, was the doubt a bad thing?

  Chapter Eight

  Sang rubbed her eye as she sat in her bedroom. It was swelling up significantly and she could barely see out of it. Her brief stint as a theatrical actor hadn't gone as she had imagined it in her head. She had arrived to the cafeteria during what had looked to be some kind of staff morale party. This made sense, as the operators were often working 14 hour shifts that were seemingly endless, and weren't allowed to leave the compound for security reasons.

  Neil had been waiting for her and had begun to yell at her fiercely, telling her that she wasn't allowed to bail on the mission. Sang had quickly picked up on the plan and begun to tell him that she was sick and tired of the risk and the danger, and that she couldn't sleep at night and things were getting too intense for her. It hadn't her best work as an actor, but she'd thought she sold the idea to the others around her.

  At the pinnacle of her argument, though, Neil punched her right in the eye and knocked her to the ground. He then jammed his gun in her mouth and told her that, if she bailed now, she'd be dead and in a desert before sunrise. That had definitely not been what she'd expected, and she certainly hadn't consented to that part of the operation. Afterwards, she was cuffed and dragged to her bedroom, even as Neil apologized profusely while coughing up blood.