Isekai Magus: A LitRPG Progression Saga

by Han Yang

  Tarla arrived behind me, wrapping me in a hug.

  “Breakfast?” she asked.

  “Let me get it. I get wives serve husbands in Nordan, but I don’t mind being equal. You got the last meal,” I said, heading to our bag. I extracted two wooden bowls, fished out two meaty chunks of stew, and handed one to Tarla. “Morning Nee, morning Yermica. What brings my troll and goblin representatives?”

  “We’re here for the war planning,” Yermica said.

  “Ah, good timing.” I didn’t get them bowls.

  Instead, the two teenage trolls worked to ensure they had meals as well. “What else?” I asked Asha.

  “Jark is watching their encampment now, but they’re going to be heading to bed here soon,” he said.

  “Not nocturnal?” I asked.

  “Nope,” Asha said, holding up a finger. “They did have a shanty that no one entered or left, so assume they have actual night guards.”

  “Sounds like a decent spot to earn some Zorta,” I said, and he nodded.

  Yermica asked, “Do they use slaves?”

  “Water golems with four legs instead of two and huge mouths,” Asha said. He hefted the book and added, “Couldn’t find them in here.”

  “Watalocks will flee into the water, as will the naga if they’re losing. Expect a quick fight and then to not gain much loot. We almost always avoided them as a troll settlement,” Yermica said.

  “We attack and what? Get maybe thirty Z?” I asked.

  Nee raised a hand to speak and said, “We need thirty three Z to manage the animals back to prime age. The old dogs, the bear, and even the rams are all elderly. The dwarves hid their age by fluffing their coats”

  I hung my head and nodded. In order for some to live, some must die. This was the way of the gods. Either I embraced it or floundered.

  “Final assessment?” I asked Asha.

  “An easy win if done right. Here’s my plan.”

  We listened intently. Afterward, Yermica raised a hand. “There’s more rams than trolls, and we tend to bond to our mounts. This will upset the goblins.”

  “If you assign us a wagon, just for us, that will nullify the issue,” Nee said.

  I glanced at Tarla, and she pointed to the wagon that held the pups. “I guess we can talk about tribe issues. That one, but you share it with the puppies for a few weeks, and when you give birth, we’ll force the bigger ones to march and the smaller ones into the other beds.”

  Nee smiled and nodded, approving of the offer.

  Bell went next and said, “The treasury. Since I seem to be in charge of finances since Jark gave up after his last revival. Over the last day and a half, the skeletons have corralled another dozen goblins and earned fifteen Z.

  “After our boon from not over investing, we’re at 347 point… oh geez, I lost track. Look, we’re over three hundred, and that’s not counting the odd squirrel that gets caught, the orb ingested, and the body piled onto the catches.”

  All eyes drifted to me. Bell raised an issue we hadn’t discussed. Those in need skimmed off the top.

  “I guess I need to set an official policy. Hmm… give me a moment,” I said, getting up to grab another bowl of stew. “Nee, go reduce the age of our animals. Bell that is approved.”

  I sat down, mulling over the dilemma. The animal healers went to where all the animals rested. Green magic flared, returning the elderly to a prime age.

  “Thoughts?” I asked.

  Yermica raised a hand, and I smiled with a nod. Hopefully, she would get to the point where she just talked.

  “Most chieftains collect Zorta and hand out a bonus once a year, or month, or never. We do steal. Even the goblins steal. A rat dies, and they’ll toss the meat into their stew before the boss ever has a clue. A battlefield or a pile of birds, like that, nope, they’d die for stealing. A third of the trapped animals, yeah, they’d go missing. I’ve had to personally spy on trapping teams,” Yermica said.

  She had likely told on the thieves, doing her job.

  “What if I did, say… get to a thousand Zorta and then no collection or even a handout for a week?” I asked.

  “That would lead to a disaster,” Asha said. “Punishment for thieving is death, and you start a slippery slope once you start killing your own for greed.”

  “Not to mention, Bell would kill you,” Tarla added. I frowned, and the lovely redhead patted my arm tenderly. “Asking a single person to micromanage individual handouts would be a horrible task. What’s wrong with how the system is now?”

  “We have no idea who’s consuming what,” I said. “Either I let the tribe steal from each other, or I create something fair.”

  “You’re missing something,” a goblin from nearby said. I glanced over my shoulder to see an older male, waiting patiently by the carriage. “My name is Fero. Nee is young, not a survivor. I’ve lived since before the cataclysm which is ancient for a goblin.”

  “Alright, considering you have the courage to assert your opinion, share it,” I ordered.

  “Thank you, Boss. I arrived three nights ago, aged to a point I figured I’d die. Believe it or not, Lumpy brought me a pigeon hawk. I went to toss it onto the pile, figuring I was being tested, that if I died of old age, and you’d make a minion. If I died from stealing, then I’d die forever. Lumpy brought it back to me, knowing I needed the Zorta to live. Needless to say, the Zorta reduced my age by twenty years,” Fero said.

  “And where were you that you couldn’t hunt and managed to find us?”

  “Ah, I could hunt, but times have been rough this year. This leads into my point. I used my meager Zorta as a group that hid from the cyclops. We shared our finds to persist and survive,” Fero said. “I may have let others have Zorta before me.”

  “You’re saying that there’s no greed among the goblins?” I asked.

  “Ah, there is, as likely as there is with the trolls, else you’ll never have a leader. But, if you’re a good goblin or a worthy troll, the others will generally share. Are your tallies increasing?” Fero asked, and I nodded. “Then you’re becoming rich, and your goblins are squeaking by. Trust me, let them come to you for upgrades and large needs. They need to see you as the hand that feeds them, and yes, the ruler they have to steal from.”

  Yermica nodded, the troll woman binding her black hair into a ponytail. “Agreed. This is our way. Plus, if anyone steps out with this system, you can see them as the rebels they are.”

  “That’s vague,” I said.

  “Basically, if you give Nee, Fero, or some other goblin or troll too much power, they’ll turn on you if they become unhappy,” Yermica said. “Do not give Nee the Zorta to hand out to the goblins. Bell has to do it, and she is. The caveat being if the goblins worship your god. The second they become devout, you’re safe. However, that will take time.”

  “Or me,” Tarla said, and Yermica nodded.

  “Fine, I guess Bell gets more work, but you have a point. If it's working as is, why fix it,” I said.

  “You’re missing how big of a deal this decision is. You probably just earned Ostriva points. You’ve passed on ruling your tribe as a Nordan Lord. Instead, you’re ruling as a Strivian War Chief,” Yermica said.

  “Ah, well, I can live with that. The dwarves taught me not everything is a line in the sand,” I said, letting the discussion fade.

  The setting sun cast a glimmering orange glow. The final bits of daylight meant we would need to prepare. I watched the animal healers finish converting the last of the dogs.

  Three goblins chanted, blasting a spell of golden light onto the bear. The magic shifted the bear, causing him to growl out happily. His gray fur swapped to a dark brown, and his wrinkly face reduced to a healthy young male.

  Bell and Nee returned to the fire, sitting nearby. “I decided to not change how we handle finances. We’ll horde the Zorta. If the underlings have a request, it must be made like this one for the healing the animals was. Only then will it be administered. We promise to be better
than the average… Boss.”

  “Understood,” Nee said, shooting a scornful glance at Fero.

  “Alright, everyone needs to get their final meal in before we march. For those staying behind, the caravan needs to be ready to roll out the second we finish our assault. For those coming on the raid, ready the troops. We march to war.”

  ∞∞∞

  Maybe he is right...

  I doubted my next decision to the point I couldn’t make one at all. This was a first, and luckily, we had enough time.

  On the one hand, I had an Asha confident in our superiority and surprise. On the other, Jark said he had a bad feeling that something didn’t make sense.

  Jark had been watching the naga village for hours, giving him credibility. When the scout who spied the scene mentioned something is off, you listened. He recommended waiting or at least not over committing.

  I really hated being the boss sometimes.

  I wanted to get further from cyclops lands and closer to Seqa Valley to the northeast. That wouldn’t happen if we spent a week waiting for Jark’s hunch to play out or proceeded with too much caution.

  “I’m changing the plan,” I said, hands on hips.

  The night sky stretched overhead with scattered clouds. The full moon shone down brightly, displaying an eerie setting of soldiers in the dark.

  We crouched a few minutes away from the Naga village. Our trolls were on rams, swords in hand, our goblins coaxed dogs, and the skeletons waited at strategic points, silently waiting for my distant commands.

  A strong breeze caused the wind to howl, and we were too far to see how the naga currently acted. Something could always change, and more importantly, my own gut was giving me second thoughts.

  “To what?” Asha asked, arms folded.

  “Quick raid, hit a few huts, and then back out to form battle lines,” I ordered.

  “But… that would leave dozens of Zorta ripe for the taking,” Tarla said.

  I nodded and replied, “Those are my orders. Jark and I have had our differences, but taking a precaution feels right.”

  “Permission to lead the charge?” Asha asked.

  “Granted. I’ll be living through Arcini, the troll chieftain,” I said, heading to the carriage.

  I didn’t have a leader to challenge here. I could become one of my minions, fight in a skeleton, and command my minions from the front lines without ever actually being there. It just seemed like the smart thing to do.

  The carriage door creaked open, rocking as I stepped into the vehicle. Inside, Lumpy and the chieftain’s son waited to watch over me. A blanket of feathers collected from kills filled the small space, waiting to be stuffed into bedding. Nothing went to waste in our camp. I stepped onto the soft layer.

  “Good luck,” Nee said, sealing me into the carriage.

  I laid down, feeling comfortable.

  I closed my eyes, chanting, “Death is power, and I demand obedience. Death is power, and I demand obedience. Death is power, and I demand obedience.”

  My third eye shot across the landscape, zooming over pine needles, fallen limbs, and big rocks. I meandered through the forest, looking for my target. When I found the thick boned skeleton, I dove into the frame.

  The process was different this time. The big skeleton charged ahead, forcing me to adjust to keep the giant’s run going.

  To my left, a skeletal goblin ran, his sword ready, no sound escaping as the little guy screamed out his battle cry. On my right, a duo of cerberus tore across the pine needles.

  I could not only hear the thunderous sound of twenty rams and Charlie, eager for blood, I could also feel the very dirt under my feet quake.

  My next step faltered, and I stumbled, catching my balance before I fell. I roared out defiantly, joining the chorus of cries of those ready to spill blood.

  Minor problem. I didn’t produce any sound and realized I probably needed to revive this big troll if I was going to use him as a projection minion.

  I clanged my swords together, following the main charge. My large stride closed the distance, and I caught up to the main charge just in time.

  I exited the trees for a clearing, seeing actual homes that stood shorter than the frame I inhabited. The village rested with a river on the right and a lake in the background. The front half had a half dozen homes while the back half held twice that many.

  The thunderous cavalry charge roared in hard from the left, most trolls clutching their mounts in terror. A few grinning maniacs brandished swords with glee.

  The rams leveled their heads, aligning for a collision against the homes. I shouted for them to stop, but they barreled into the poorly constructed homes, bursting the thin wooden frames.

  I bounded forward, eager to clean up the mess.

  A snake humanoid slithered out from a pile of wood, a dagger in their hand. I arrived as they tried to orientate, cleaving one of the cheap blades into the collarbone of a female naga.

  Her eyes bulged in shock, and she hissed out. After I yanked the blade free, she gurgled a few final breaths before collapsing.

  I ran to the next naga who fixated on chasing the rams in anger for destroying its home.

  Extra-long strides closed the distance rapidly. My blade sliced with enough power to chop down a tree, cleanly cleaving the top half of a naga free of the body. The tail portion continued to slither for a few feet.

  I loomed over the torso, ramming my blade through the heart of my confused foe.

  The charge had decimated the front half of the village. Asha spun the cavalry in a tight turn, leaving the back half of the village alone. Their second charge cut down the few remaining naga.

  A trio of trolls rushed to find their mounts as the goblins arrived in their tight formations. Two golden beams shot down, reviving trolls killed by their rams’ reckless charge.

  Dual explosions split the air, surely waking any who had managed to sleep through the chaos.

  A pile of injured goblins moaned while they rolled on the grass. I shook my head at the damage from the explosive healings. It was evident we had a long way to go before our fighting force became proficient.

  I clanged my swords, pointing to my left and to my right. The cavalry kept a decently tight formation, trotting their mounts to the left. The goblin infantry jostled their armor, trying to form new lines on the right. Their organization struggled, even with Jark and a few trolls corralling the formations.

  A brief lull settled over the village. The sounds of the wounded crying out faded over time as the healers fixed those in need.

  I paced in a tight left and right pattern, my vision focused on the enemy. I grew confused, not seeing the nagas doing what we expected.

  My thought was they would retreat into water. Instead, it appeared the nagas and the watalocks feared the depths.

  Good thing I changed the original plan.

  The first plan had called for our cavalry to race across the shoreline and push into the village. Now I was worried what had the naga so scared. The enemy started to react, chanting spells. The time for us to organize ended.

  I clanged the swords, slowly walking the advance line.

  Spells crackled, dancing off the nagas’ fingertips. Lightning shot down, scoring triple hits to my frame. I could feel my body in the carriage shaking from the shock.

  Interesting. I feel the pain, and yet I don’t, much like when the ram broke my fingers. My mind is in another place maybe. Gotta focus.

  Bones cracked, splintering in deep fissures. I stepped forward, willing myself to heal my body.

  Minion Arcini has suffered damage. Repair cost 28/35 Mana. Repair (YES) - (NO)

  Shit, that did a lot of damage.

  I selected yes. My slow walk forward faltered, and I fell to my knees. Black magic clouded around our front lines until it enveloped my skeleton.

  Shards of bone zipped off the grass, returning the bones to their seamless origins after the magic melded them. I stood, the misty black magic fading.

&n
bsp; I walked forward with a grin, showing that their magic didn’t do anything.

  Roughly twenty naga hesitated while the forty watalocks eyed each other in panic.

  The book said they didn’t surrender, choosing to fight or flee. Then again, books could be wrong, and I certainly saw their desire to flee growing.

  A watalock broke formation, the little fleshy golem fleeing to dive into the water. An alpha naga shouted no, hands reaching out as if it could stop the flight of the smaller creature.

  Splash!

  An eruption from the lake sent water soaring. Two large heads breached the surface, and a second the slimy wide frame exited the water.

  A leviathan waddled onto the shore, two heads fighting over the watalock caught in the mouths. The hydra tore the watalock in half, a shower of gore soaking the trembling naga formation.

  I clanged my swords and Asha shouted, “Attack!”

  The goblins and trolls unleashed their magic.

  Fireballs blossomed, lighting up the night, while lightning arced down, ice shards jutted up, and rocks hurled by geomancers were sped up by air mages.

  The full might of our magic crashed into blue shields that burst under the assault. The spells tore into the enemy, different effects killing in different ways.

  I lunged into a sprint, pumping my boned legs.

  I carved up two impaled nagas, ending their lives as they struggled to free themselves. The cavalry charged forward turning to avoid the two headed hydra. The enemy naga and watalocks routed, fleeing along the shoreline and not risking the water.

  With a full sprint, I jumped in a heroic arc. The two blades lanced forward, aiming for the chest of the hydra. I heard the faintest of warnings over the sound of the hydra screaming in pain.

  My blades dove in with my feet splashing into hip high water. The leviathan roared in pain, and I yanked both swords out.

  The hydra spun, giving me a nice opening on the side of the torso. I jabbed both blades in, buried my feet into the mucky lake’s bottom, and let the hydra’s panic work to aid its own death.