Hunger: A LitRPG Adventure (Unbound Book 3), page 86
"Number 54773. Report."
"Haarwatch has not fallen," Number 54773's calm voice declared. It stepped out of the crowd with a cool, mechanical precision before stopping only six span from the Archon's feet. It did not glance at its fellow, who was shakily extracting itself from the wall. "I just finished verifying with the advance scouts, and they claim the Wall still stands, and the interior is still relatively secure."
"Still? What of my Mark? Is it still active upon any beast within the Walls?" The Archon drummed his thick, metal fingers against the stone arm of his throne.
"Your Mark rules the Wretches yet, but they are deep within the woods, replenishing their numbers. Within the city, there is no trace of your Mark."
"How?"
"We… aren't sure, Master," Number 54773 adjusted its stance slightly. Nervously, perhaps. "All connection was lost when our link was cut. None of us retain enough Affinity to see beyond it. The Domain shattered, that much we know, so the city is dealing with a number of monstrous outbreaks. But the Domain Core… it is gone."
"Gone," the Archon let out a vibrating sigh through its golden breastplate. "How did the… what was it called?"
"A Ravager King, sir. An impressive creation by the Envoy and yourself," the Archid flattered.
The golden giant simply grunted, and the sound rattled through its chest and neck. "I merely facilitated the power and the plan. My Envoy did the true work. I am but its creator."
"Of course, sir," Number 54773 said. "But as our creator, our Father, you are the reason we can accomplish anything. All credit, all glory begins and ends with you."
Had the Archon a mouth, it would have smiled. This one is quite good with words. I should invest more in their Minds from now on. "How did the Ravager King die?" it asked.
"It seems there was a Master Tier Human in the city. With a Manaship."
"What?" The word was an avalanche of sound, for all that the Archon did not move. "How was this not known?"
This time, the Archid trembled in clear fear. "Th-the ship was hidden. Perhaps in the Eyrie, which had previously proven scry-proof. We… we aren't sure. But we do know that the Manaship's cannon fire hurt the Primordial badly. Then the Master Tier hit it with a light-based Mana Skill, severing its neck."
"And that killed it?" the Archon leaned forward and felt its stone chair grind beneath its bulk. "Just that, for a Primordial?"
"Ah, no, sir. It seems there was another figure involved," and here it paused. It glanced back at the other Arcids, but after receiving no help from them, turned back. "There is record of a man."
The Archon stared in towering silence, simply waiting.
"He… this man somehow climbed atop the Primordial and," the Arcid paused and blinked its pale eye-fires at the Archon. "The man somehow tore it apart."
"Hmm,” the Archon rumbled. “Another Master Tier?"
"If not higher. A Grandmaster, perhaps."
The Archon shook its head. That was impossible. If such a being unveiled themselves to strike down the Primordial, he would have known, even buried in the Foglands. No, something else had happened in that contemptible city. Something strange. He did not like mysteries.
"If the Primordial died, then why do I still feel the creature's power? Why does it still weigh upon the world?"
Now that he knew to look for it, the Archon felt something at the edges of his mighty Perception. It was weak, perhaps the weakest Primordial he'd ever sensed, but there was no mistaking it. Even from within the Foglands, the Archon could feel the pull it had, something he'd grown used to from the vile Maw with whom he'd once shared a border.
"No Primordials were left alive, sir," 54773 replied hesitantly, unsure. "Perhaps further investigation is needed."
"Yes," the Archon snarled as he sat back on his throne. He regarded the Archids before him, their specially crafted Bodies and plundered Spirits. They were nearly ready. "Find this man and bring down that Wall, in whichever order you choose. We have little time before the Blood Moon comes. You know what is needed; what is at stake."
With a wave of the Archon's hand, the far wall rotated out of sight. The throne room became a balcony overlooking an absolutely massive staging ground, one cut through by viciously hot flows of brilliant lava. Among the flows stood hundreds of massive, metallic creatures, each of them a vivid blue-gray. They appeared sculpted from ice, rather than metal, freezing cold despite the overwhelming heat.
"We have much to do."
AFTERWORD
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ABOUT NICOLI GONNELLA
Nicoli Gonnella spent his formative years atop a mountain, breathing deep of the world energy and expelling impurities from his soul. Also he went to school and stuff. He always wrote but now he's abandoned everything to do it full time. Readers give him strength, spirit bomb style, and there's no telling how strong he will become. This isn't even his final form.
He lives with his wife, two kids, and a corgi named Cornelius.
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ABOUT MOUNTAINDALE PRESS
Dakota and Danielle Krout, a husband and wife team, strive to create as well as publish excellent fantasy and science fiction novels. Self-publishing The Divine Dungeon: Dungeon Born in 2016 transformed their careers from Dakota’s military and programming background and Danielle’s Ph.D. in pharmacology to President and CEO, respectively, of a small press. Their goal is to share their success with other authors and provide captivating fiction to readers with the purpose of solidifying Mountaindale Press as the place ‘Where Fantasy Transforms Reality.’
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Nicoli Gonnella, Hunger: A LitRPG Adventure (Unbound Book 3)
