Magic Kingdom at War Vol 1-4: A 4x LitRPG Series, page 1
Magic Kingdom at War
Volumes 1-4
by
Tao Wong
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Magic Kingdom at War Volumes 1-4
Copyright © 2024 Tao Wong. All Rights reserved.
Copyright © 2024 Simon Carr Cover Designer
Published by Starlit Publishing
PO Box 30035
High Park PO
Toronto, ON
M6P 3K0
Canada
www.starlitpublishing.com
Ebook ISBN: 9781778552267
Paperback ISBN: 9781778552274
Books in the Magic Kingdom at War Series
Magic Kingdom at War Volume 1
Magic Kingdom at War Volume 2
Magic Kingdom at War Volume 3
Magic Kingdom at War Volume 4
Magic Kingdom at War Volume 5
Magic Kingdom at War Volume 6
Magic Kingdom at War Volume 7
Magic Kingdom at War Volume 8
Magic Kingdom at War Volume 9
Other Series by Tao Wong
System Apocalypse
System Apocalypse: Australia
System Apocalypse – Relentless
System Apocalypse: Kismet
System Apocalypse: Liberty
A Thousand Li
Adventures on Brad
Climbing the Ranks
Dating Evolution
Hidden Dishes
Hidden Wishes
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Climbing the Ranks
Author’s Note
About the Author
About the Publisher
Chapter 1
Being called into Kyran’s office first thing in the morning was never a good thing. That he had left a message at reception for Matt Fang to come by the moment he arrived for work – five minutes before nine as always – boded ill.
Six months and twenty-three days. Well past his probationary period, at least. Which was a better showing than his last job by a good five months. He’d been careful to leave that job out of his resume. Not that it helped a lot.
Arriving at the partially closed door, Matt rapped on it. A quick scan of the office behind him showed half the desks in the open-plan office filled. Everyone else had arrived early as usual. Mary, mousy Mary with her frizzy brown hair and big brown eyes, ducked her head as he caught her looking, refusing to meet his eyes.
“Come in.”
Matt wiped the smirk off his face, made sure he looked serious, and pushed the door open. Kyran within was glowering at the monitor, not even bothering to look up as Matt walked in. He didn’t bother sitting, figuring it wasn’t worth the energy. Of course, his boss with his carefully tended trendy fade of a haircut didn’t bother looking for long minutes.
Childish power plays, but then again, the boy was a child.
“You left early yesterday.” Kyran swung his office chair straight, facing the man squarely. “Again.”
“I left at five-oh-five,” Matt said, not rising to the bait.
“The Rushman project was not finished.”
“There’s about two hours of work left on it, yes,” Matt replied. “I was intending to finish it this morning.”
“Don’t bother. I gave it to Mary. She got it done, yesterday.”
“Okay.”
Silence stretched between the two as Matt just waited patiently for what he knew was about to come. He’d done this dance often enough.
“We’ve discussed the requirements of your job before,” Kyran said, leaning forwards and steepling his fingers. He tried to look stern, but it mostly made him look constipated to Matt. “And how your dedication to the company is lacking, especially compared to your peers. Now, an important project was nearly not done on time.”
“I informed you about the problems with the project two weeks ago, how the client has not provided answers to pertinent questions. I’d already alerted them about the potential extension of the deadline if we did not receive answers promptly and when it arrived late, I again informed them about the delay,” Matt said, shrugging a little. “It’s not like everyone involved didn’t know what would happen.”
“Our job is to make our clients happy!”
“If you wanted the work finished on the original deadline, you should have assigned someone else to help me, as I’d asked.”
“Are you saying I am in the wrong?”
Matt chose not to answer that. It was rather obvious after all and there was a slim margin he was not about to get fired.
Very slim.
Silence again, drawn out. After a moment, Kyran cleared his throat. “The Jacobs’ file. I’d like you to go over it and get me a summary by tomorrow morning. They’re looking to divest some of their poorer performing investments and reinvest in a few new ventures.”
“The whole file?” Matt asked carefully. The Jacobs had been working with the firm, making use of their financial service advice, for nearly two decades now. They had over fifty million dollars in holdings, spread out across a variety of industries and companies. There were dozens of contracts and investments to review, from private companies to public shareholdings, ETFs, real estate investments, forex reserves and bonds, and more.
“Of course.”
“Who else is on it?”
“No one.”
“It won’t be done by then,” Matt replied firmly. “It just isn’t possible. Not if you want a proper review.”
“I’m sure it can be, if you’re dedicated enough.”
“Are you paying overtime then?” Matt said archly.
“You’re a salaried employee.”
“That a no?”
Kyran let out a long, dramatic sigh. “You know, my father thought you’d be a good fit. He insisted that I give you one last chance, says you’ve got a great mind on you. Said that the work you do, it’s world class. But all I see is a lazy man whose actions are driving a wedge into my company, destroying morale. I won’t have it.”
“I don’t work for free, and I won’t work unpaid overtime. It’s not my responsibility to manage the schedules and workload. Just the clients and their expectations.” Matt shook his head, his smirk making a reappearance. “Which isn’t made easier when you won’t back us up.”
“Your job is to keep them happy!” Kyran slammed a fist on the table as he finished. “Or do you not know how much money they bring in?”
“I do. I also know how much you pay us.” Matt shrugged. “And that you can afford the overtime.”
“You… you…” Kyran pointed at the door. “Get out!”
“Okay.” Matt stepped back, then hesitated. “So, when you said get out, did you mean of the office or the company?”
“You’re fired, you idiot!”
“Figured.” Grinning now, Matt reached up and tugged on the necktie around his neck, loosening it. He then sauntered over to his desk, pulling open the drawer, grabbing the stash of candy bars he had in there, and stuffing them into his pocket. He scanned the table, searching for anything else he had brought in.
Nope. The single, dismal potted plant had been bought by the company. So had the laptop, which they had hinted he bring home and he had refused to do so. No company phone, of course. They’d been too cheap to buy him one. The pens and other stationery were all from the company store.
He’d stopped bothering with bringing in personal effects a while ago. Since the… fourth? job he’d been let go from. Hauling it all around was annoying.
Satisfied he was leaving nothing behind, he sauntered to the exit. The other employees dared not even look at him, their eyes glued to their screens. Even Mary only glanced at him before looking down, shoulders hunched. His smirk grew even more pronounced.
On a whim, he stopped at the exit, near where the receptionist waited. Raising his voice, he made sure to project so that they could all hear him.
“You know, the job market – especially for qualified CPAs – is really tight right now. Why’d you think half the desks are open? No one is really willing to work for these cheapskates.” A crash came from Kyran’s office at his words, muffled cursing arising from within, but Matt ignored it. “Is this what you want? To spend the rest of your lives seated at a desk, making rich men richer?”
Silence from the group. That smirk turned into a sneer as Matt regarded his ex-peers, the beaten and scared faces never turning his way. Exasperated, he threw his hands up and added, “At the least, get paid well for doing this shit!”
As soon as he finished, a red-faced figure poked itself out of the office, a finger leveled at Matt. Kyran was bent over, clutching his leg as he growled, “Get the hell out of my office before I call the cops on you!”
“I’m leaving, I’m leaving.”
“Don’t believe all that bullshit he talked about. You think he knows anything? He’ll find that burning bridges with us is a fool’s game,” Kyran ranted. “A good reference from us…”
Rather than wait for the elevator and listen to the boy’s voice a moment more, Matt headed for the stairs. It was only six floors after all. As the door cut off his ex-employer’s voice, Matt began to whistle a jaunty tune. Losing a job sucked, but it was all the same anyway, wiling away time doing bullshit work till you died. He’d find something soon enough.
In the meantime, it was a brilliant day outside. Maybe sitting by the beach with some ice cream was called for.
His whistling slowed and came to a halt as he skipped down to the third floor. He put a hand to his head, wincing at a growing pressure. His other hand gripped the railing as the pressure and pain increased. Eventually, he found himself on a knee, vision swimming and a message in his head.
Not a vision, just a message that he somehow knew.
To all humans,
The time of trials is before us. We – your gods – have failed to hold the line. Now, a final test must be enacted. But before this test may begin, we require champions. Will you stand between humanity and the chaos that approaches? Know that in doing so, there is no return, no glory, no acclaim. Just the knowledge that what you do matters.
Will you face this challenge?
The pain subsided, only a single locus point of focus left. A thought that he could push one way or the other to offer an answer. Strangely enough, there was a certainty within Matt that this thought, this message, was real. Perhaps it was a side effect of a stroke or seizure. Or perhaps it was because it was real and true and part of the divine message that it was.
He held no doubt this was real.
He wondered how many had chosen no. How many had refused immediately. Who had quailed at the thought, who had chosen to accept the call. Soldiers, firemen, charity workers. He wondered what kind of trial it might be.
And then, as he made his decision, he wondered why he ever hesitated.
After all, what else had he been waiting for, all his life?
Chapter 2
Transitioning between worlds was rather more of a shock for Matt than he had expected. Rather than a portal opening, or his body transforming into energy or even an unfriendly truck coming along, he instead had a brain hemorrhage.
One moment, he was alive, in pain, and making a decision that would change his fate forever.
The next, he was slumped over on the stairs, bouncing down a couple before coming to a stop. Eyes glassy, nose bleeding a little from the massive brain bleed. His heart kept beating for a little while, his automatic nervous system still functioned. But the man himself was gone.
Snatched away as his soul left his body and was thrown into battle.
***
Matt stumbled, his balance all awry and his vision clouded. There was a white haze over everything and a scream that rang through his ears, stifling all other noise. As he fell, he felt someone grab hold of his body, his arm, holding him up. Even as the pressure around his body held him close, he realized his throat hurt and that the screaming came from himself.
He clamped his mouth shut, stopped screaming, and forced himself to breathe.
“New teeth. That’s weird.”
Matt kept blinking, the white haze disappearing with each blink. He hurt, not physically – other than his throat, but even that was fading a little – but deeper. He hurt in his soul, a kind of pain that was all encompassing and yet remote at the same time. Like someone had replaced the pain with a memory of the pain, such that he knew he should hurt but he didn’t, but it still was there.
His eyes cleared up, enough so that Matt realized that the person gripping him was a brown-skinned, wrinkled, and tusky orc. Perhaps it was another creature, but for Matt, he labelled the one holding him up as orc.
Lurching backwards by pure surprise, he tried to scream, only to find his voice and throat dry. Before he could overbalance in this new unfamiliar body, another hand gripped him on the other side. Looking over, Matt could only see an older man staring back at him, with a wispy long beard and what he could only describe as unfashionably tight pants and a blousy pirate shirt.
“Easy there, my lord. The transfer can be quite tough.” Smooth, cultured, though with a tinge of a guttural slur to it. Not the old man but the damn orc was saying this.
“How would you know?” Matt snapped as he pulled himself free, straightening more carefully. His balance was coming to him, slowly.
“We all died to get here.” This time, it was the old man speaking. His voice was a surprise too, for it had a broad twang to it that Matt could only think of as belonging to New Orleans and the bayou.
“Shit.” Somehow, being told he had died – was dead – was not shocking. Not when he was still dealing with the burgeoning horror of being tossed across unknown dimensions to a new location. More importantly, he touched his face, running unfamiliar fingers over unfamiliar planes. “This isn’t my body.”
“No,” the orc said. “It’s a loaner.”
“Goddamn unpaid overtime…” Matt cursed, dropping his hand and forcing himself to take in the surroundings. They were in a small grey-brown stone room, the walls constructed with imperfect blocks and mortared together with old cement. Nearby was a wooden table, over which what he could only describe as a hologram hovered. A couple of chairs added to the ambience as did the pair who’d welcomed him.
“Why am I not freaking out more? I just died, got booted over dimensions, and stuck into a new body. I should be in a ball, quivering, right?”
“You should?” the old man asked, confused. “That doesn’t make much sense. It’s already over and done with, boy.”
“No, I get it. It’s an irrational response to an irrational situation,” the orc rumbled. “Though it does not bode well for our chances.”
“Will you two shut up!” Matt snapped, and then glowered at the pair until they did as he said. In the quiet, he took stock of himself further, not just physically but mentally and emotionally. Spiritually too perhaps. After a few moments, he nodded to himself.
That feeling of remoteness, that compartmentalization of his pain. It extended not just to his soul, but it seemed to be cushioning all the other shocks to his system. It was strange, and different, but he was not going to complain at the moment.
“Alright, let’s just try to figure this out from the start. Who are you? I’m Matt Fang.” He really needed a mirror. He wondered if he even looked Chinese anymore. Certainly his face seemed a little broader and longer, and his hair… He reached up quickly, grabbed a lock, and tugged at it. “Purple? Seriously?”
