Isekai Magus: A LitRPG Progression Saga

by Han Yang

  Each of the dead arrived quickly, and I closed my eyes. Using my cultivation skills, I focused on each of the colorful orbs, only to find resistance. A first in a while.

  I concentrated, willing my nerves down and focusing on dominating the goblin’s power.

  Claiming the goblin as a minion will result in you earning Ostriva points. Do you wish to proceed? (YES) - (NO)

  I quickly selected yes.

  You selected to claim a goblin. Consume 0.599 Zorta to summon this creature as a minion of the undead. Confirm (YES) - (NO)

  I rationalized that the higher valuation was due to these having military training. The system where a trained foe was worth more felt right.

  When I selected yes, I waited for all hell to break loose. Instead, the spell consumed the flesh of my latest minion without a peep from the village.

  I proceeded to repeat the process on the other two goblins and learned these were even more expensive. Bell quickly handed out new weapons to my three latest minions. Everything was going according to plan so far.

  We formed a small huddle, and I said, “Decent win. We can clearly move on.

  “This could mean the difference between being shunned and feared,” Asha said with determination. “The plan will work. I know it's going to require a lot of trust, but I know it will work. There’s thousands of these little villages in this valley alone. They reproduce, grow past the size of the village, and a son or a second in command branches out. It is the strivian way.”

  “Alright, then. I guess I will attempt the role as a unit commander. Skeletons form a wall,” I ordered quietly, and the five goblins formed a line with Jark in the middle. “Ranged, ready your bows. Forward march.”

  We quietly walked down a cobbled road of river stones. The street was firm, mud sealing the stones somewhat evenly. As the village grew in size, my stomach twisted with anticipation.

  I don’t think this is fear… maybe excitement.

  The street led us through an opening in the caltrops. When we entered the village, we did so without notice.

  Bark! Yip! Bark!

  And there went our stealth. Even the puppies were yipping. A trio of cerberus zoomed out of a stable, eager for our blood.

  Their snarled teeth flared with fangs ready.

  An arrow whistled out, driving into the chest of a three headed hound. Asha broke ranks, lopping a head off each cerberus in rapid fashion.

  I focused on my center, meditating to claim the dead. The cerberus were stubborn shits and fought my pull. A few seconds passed, and I gave up on those three.

  The full pack streamed out, no thoughts of waiting for backup. I charged Charlie, lowering my lance. A fireball seared across my vision, scorching two cerberus to ash.

  I lowered my lance, skewering a head.

  The top of the skull cracked under the weapons might, breaking my weapon free. The warhorse spun, kicking a cerberus hard enough to send it flying.

  I readied to ride hard into the goblins, struggling to believe what I saw.

  Goblins tried to exit their shanty and found Lumpy threatening to charge. As one, they hesitated, none willing to cast or enter the fray first.

  Asha told me they’d not fight unless there was someone to rally them, and that was my biggest concern. Apparently, strivians fought for dominance often, and the goblins, if left alone, would wait to support the winner.

  The cerberus, on the other hand, snarled with hatred. The baying of the hounds woke the trolls, and we reached the main building before the enemy could form a defense.

  A final cerberus leaped from a rooftop and into our front line. The animal died by a dozen sword thrusts, but its effort succeeded. The trolls arrived with our formation broken. They skidded to a halt when a commanding voice boomed.

  “Who dares challenge Arcini the Great?”

  The booming voice of the chieftain troll roared out across the village.

  I fixated on the massively fat troll in confusion.

  Ah, right, this was my cue and why I wore all this damn armor.

  “Charge the leader!” Asha called out.

  I saw the obese troll exiting his home a hundred feet down the road. He carried a staff that radiated red magic. A whole lot of power coursed through his body.

  I adjusted my lance and Charlie did the rest. The horse burst into a run, and the others parted to escape our wrath.

  Two massive fireball spells crashed into my shield, threatening to tear me out of the saddle. A blue shield erupted in front of Charlie and me, absorbing the impact. The armor I wore was enchanted with anti-magic shielding. It was the ace I sorely needed.

  The warhorse bulldozed two trolls, pushing them out of our path while barreling down on the leader.

  The massive troll panicked, stopping the spell it chanted, and threw a female in the way of Charlie. The warhorse leaped high, soaring over the damsel.

  “Dammit, Charlie!” I screamed in shock.

  My left hand clung to the saddle for dear life. I slammed my knees together, trying to stay on. Our jump forced me to adjust my aim with the lance.

  The enemy leader’s eyes widened, seemingly understanding he was doomed.

  The tip of the lance drove through flesh, sinking deep his chest.

  I grunted, intense pain erupting in my shoulder. A fraction of a section later, the jarring force ripped me free of Charlie’s saddle. Something had to give. The lance yanked itself out of my grasp.

  I would have guessed the sixty pounds of armor would help my fall, but it didn’t in the slightest.

  Crash!

  The wind in my lungs jetted out, and I flared in panic. A rib likely was broken, I was on my back, and at any moment I could die to any of the trolls around me.

  I used my free hand and said, “Heal self.”

  The spell didn’t even fire up. Nothing was broken, and I simply experienced pain. I peeled myself off the road, shocked none of my minions had died.

  When I stood, I did so unmolested. I glanced around in confusion.

  The scene was one of shock. No one raised their weapons. Everyone simply stared at the dead chief with a long lance resting vertically out of its body. The female we jumped over eyed me, her facial expression filled with relief. She nodded in respect and stepped back.

  A large troll rested over the fallen chief, eyeing me with a fury. He jerked the weapon out of the body, creating a sucking sound that broke the silence. The new challenger tossed the weapon at my feet.

  “I challenge you for the right to the Zeemi Tribe,” the troll said in perfect strivian.

  His harsh voice had to be adding slang that the gods filtered for me. Even if they didn’t, the message was clear. I had to fight again. I spun my head, checking over my shoulders.

  Everyone else stopped fighting. The other trolls stood stoic, their eyes flicking between me and the second in command.

  Instead of squaring off, I stuck my hands to my knees as if waiting to recover.

  “Give me a moment. Is that allowed?” I asked.

  “Ten, nine, eight,” the challenger counted.

  I didn’t waste any time. “Death is power, power is everything. Death is power, power is everything. Death is power, power is everything.” My chanting hit a crescendo.

  The enemy reacted by snatching a javelin out of a quiver on his back.

  “Shit,” I muttered, maintaining focus.

  My center reached out, finding the defeated chieftain. His orb didn’t fight back, likely because I had killed him.

  I missed the troll throwing his weapon as I concentrated. The javelin slammed into my guts, lifting me up and off my feet. I crashed down hard, sliding across the road with my metal armor scraping loudly.

  The interface for the chieftain stayed, even when my vision waned due to the pain. In the distance, I heard my challenger celebrating. I selected claim instead of consume.

  Claiming the Arcini Trollkin as a minion will result in you earning Ostriva points. Do you wish to proceed? (YES) - (NO)


  The sound of large feet approaching grew louder, and I instantly selected yes.

  You selected to claim Arcini Trollkin. Consume 19.411 Zorta to summon this creature as a minion of the undead. Confirm (YES) - (NO)

  I hastily applied a yes and did something crazy. I ripped a javelin out of my guts with a cry of torment. The weapon clattered against the road as my spell darkened the bright moonlight.

  A hand went over my stomach, and I said, “Heal self.”

  A wave of green magic erupted off my fingers, and my foe paused, seeing two types of magic at once. His eyes bulged, and he screamed in horror when he saw the ghouls collecting the chieftain’s flesh.

  Maybe they revered their dead or performed some sort of ritual I had violated. I didn’t care. Winning mattered.

  I spat out a mouthful of blood, scrambling to my feet. When my opponent realized I was back in the fight, he backpedaled. My undead minions circled in on him unopposed.

  “What’s your magic?” I asked in perfect Ostrivian.

  Those who watched the duel gasped, not expecting a human to be native.

  “What have you done to my father?” the tall troll asked.

  The magical spell darkened before it completed, and the chieftain’s large frame lumbered to my side.

  “I have given him true power without the confines of his flesh. He will serve me as I conquer all who stand before me,” I said defiantly.

  Part of this plan was to be a cocky asshole. The whole strivian society was predicated on the powerful ruling. Asha had said to be confident, even if I was uncertain. To be boisterous, even if I was simply wanting a nice castle to relax in.

  I ripped my sword free when he reached for another javelin. I saw his magic this time. His frame increased in size, empowering his throw.

  With limited options, I threw my sword first. My weapon rotated, the throw horrible. A gash went across his shin, barely enough to alter his throw. The javelin soared out, what would likely be a clean kill resulted in the weapon simply sinking into my shoulder.

  I spun, screaming. The spear ruined my right arm and almost tore it off my body. I applied a hand to my shoulder and said, “Heal self.”

  Magical green tendrils knitted my body together. I felt my stomach growing queasy and knew I had to stop.

  Consume .12 Zorta to recover 28 mana (YES) - (NO)

  I hastily recovered my mana, not sure why I hadn’t died yet. I continued to heal my arm. When the joint was back to normal, I saw why I had been allowed to heal.

  Our duel allowed minions, apparently. The skeletal father bear hugged his son.

  “I didn’t even have to suppress his memories. Asha, how does this work?” I confidently strode toward my trapped foe. “Allow mercy or no?” I asked in Nordanese.

  I walked over to my sword that rested on the street, all eyes focused on me and the fact my opponent struggled in the grip of my minion.

  Was it fair? I guess it is. The boney creation is my magical creation after all.

  “I’ll skin you alive myself, and -”

  I had to tune out the threats regarding his penis and my butthole. Needless to say, he left me little choice. Using my practiced thrusts, I drove my blade into a rib. The tip deflected, piercing a lung but not his heart.

  I withdrew the blade, the helpless troll gurgling as blood filled his ruined lung. I jabbed again and again. Finally, on the fourth thrust, he died, and I grinned.

  When the body hit the street, I glanced around, not seeing another challenger step forward.

  I closed my eyes, standing over my slain foe. I reached out and found the orb far more stubborn than the father’s. After a first failure, I concentrated with the incantation.

  “Death is power, power is everything. Death is power, power is everything. Death is power, power is everything,” I belted out the last line and forced my will onto the son’s orb.

  Between the chant and a fading resistance, I beat back the son’s deflections, winning control over his colorful orb.

  Claim or Consume.

  I felt a tap on my shoulder as I pondered which to choose.

  I turned to see Asha carrying Tarla, a javelin stuck in her chest, piercing her heart. Her head lulled back, and her eyes were stuck open in surprise.

  “What! Again?” I asked.

  “The spear that went through your arm deflected into her chest. I honestly think the gods are sending a message at this point,” Asha said.

  I scoffed. “The gods be damned. I only answer to Caitlyn. I thought you didn’t believe in them.” He shrugged, offering me Tarla’s body.

  “Place her there,” I said, pointing to a spot in the road.

  I raised my voice, swapping to Ostrivian. “I’m your new leader. Call me Boss Damien, Necromancer of Ikara Valley. You are to pack everything you own to start a new home. We leave this village at dawn.”

  The surviving trolls hesitated, and the old chieftain growled menacingly. That sent them scurrying, and I snickered.

  Asha brought over a half dozen cerberus corpses that were intact. Three were ruined and placed in a separate pile.

  “I advise you to raise what you can,” Asha said.

  I focused on the current interface I had open with the troll's son and selected claim.

  Claiming the troll as a minion will result in you earning Ostriva points. Do you wish to proceed? (YES) - (NO)

  The sound of large feet approaching grew louder, and I selected yes.

  You selected to claim a troll. Consume 12.374 Zorta to summon this creature as a minion of the undead. Confirm (YES) - (NO)

  With a simple thought, the magic of the undead swirled around the fallen troll. I watched the ghoulish hands strip the flesh, grinning when my latest minion eventually stood among my soldiers.

  “Go help the others prepare to leave. Oh, and any hidden treasure you had? Place it here,” I said, pointing to the spot his transformation had occurred.

  I glanced down at my girlfriend who was dead again. I let out a frustrated breath.

  “Everyone back up,” I said, noticing it was only Asha and Lumpy watching over me. “Where’s everyone?”

  “There are two small wagons, yeah, and even a pair of horses stabled in the chieftain’s village. We scored a nice prize,” Asha said with a wicked smirk. “Thank you for trusting me.”

  “Kinda surprised they just accepted a new leader,” I said.

  “The mighty rule. This is the way,” Asha said, and I snickered at the irony.

  “I’m not mighty,” I countered.

  “You’re about to bring back a woman from the dead, and you just killed two of their leaders, adding them to your undead army. Even I consider that mighty. The best part is that you’re just beginning. When we reach civilization, I expect to start a long journal that will survive me, and I bet others will find the words enlightening,” Asha said.

  I nodded, understanding his point. “Will the cyclops see a revival?”

  “Maybe, but do you really have a choice? The next day will take us on a road not too far from them. Best to do it now,” Asha advised.

  When I hovered over her orb, it eagerly clung to my aura.

  Resurrect Tarla Starski (YES) or (NO) - Selecting (NO) will incur Ostriva points.

  I channeled the spell after accepting the prompt. The heaven’s split, night became day, and a golden torrent of power burst into Tarla.

  BOOM!

  The explosion ripped through the small village, starling most. Tarla sat up with a gasp. She immediately flung herself off the street, barreling for me with open arms.

  “I’m so sorry I was a bitch earlier,” she said, slamming herself into my embrace.

  I shushed her and said, “You were upset about your brother, Tarla. It’s okay, and you weren’t a bitch in the slightest. You’re okay. I’ll try to be more careful when dueling the bad guys.”

  My light joke missed the mark, and she began to cry. While I held her, I consumed the Zorta from the three dead cerberus mangled bey
ond claiming. Charlie smushed one and fire consumed two to ash.

  Each of them was worth three plus Zorta.

  The troll chieftain brought out two small sacks, tossing them onto the street. The son dragged out a forest creature that was a mix of lamb and deer. Small nubs clashed with the fluffy wool exterior. The being was no bigger than Lumpy, and I didn’t understand why it was considered treasure.

  Tarla managed to stop sniffling, growing curious as well.

  “What’s that?” I asked Asha.

  “Not sure,” he said with a shrug.

  “Hey, you,” I said to a troll carrying cerberus puppies for one of the wagons everyone was loading. “What’s this thing and why is it valuable?”

  “The milk helps fertility in both sexes,” the troll said, confused I didn’t know this.

  “Can the goblins take it?” I asked.

  “Yes, it works even on the hounds. Chieftain Arcini saved it for himself, though. The blessbas are a rare treasure and a prize his son found while hunting,” the troll said. “Is the Boss needing anything else?”

  “Carry on,” I said, and he left. “What’s in the sacks?”

  Asha went to the first one, spilling gold nuggets, silver coins, and a few gems onto the street. I had no idea of the value, but it would help when the time came to purchase items again. The next was a bag of Zorta. I reached out, touching a random orb.

  I selected consume, and the number that came up was 3.121.

  “The first one I tested was a dead cerberus if I were to guess. I’ll consume them all so I can raise these hounds into undead,” I said then frowned. “Any objection?”

  “Not from me, my handsome hero,” Tarla said, yanking me down for a lusty kiss.

  While I was thrilled she had come out of her funk, this hero had work to do. I left her lips wanting more and began ingesting the entire wealth the boss man had.

  Eighty three Zorta later, I shifted to raising the dead. I added six more cerberus to the ranks. I received an upgrade notification and immediately went into my necromancer stats.