Magus
Dimitrios Gkirgkiris
Contents
Raining blood
1. When the lights are down
2. Heeding the call
3. Hijo de la luna
4. The one we shall follow
5. Land of the miracle
6. Fairy tale
7. Hunting high and low
8. Aesis lilim
In my sword I trust
9. The fiction maze
10. Keeper of the seven keys
11. Nightfall
12. Holy diver
13. Rhiannon
14. You're not alone
15. Talk to a friend
16. Armata Strigoi
17. Black roses for the wicked one
18. Farewell
19. Per aspera ad astra
Parting the mists
Over the hills and far away
Rory got something to say
LitRPG Syndicate
LitRPG Guild
LitRPG Groups
LitRPG Group
About the author
A big thank you to
Raining blood
Tap, tap, tap.
The soft sound of raindrops on the stretched skin above the group of slaves interrupted the berserker's storytelling. The fire was safe from the rain, but most of the poor bastards would get soaked. Yet nobody moved to leave.
Their clothes would soon be stained red by the vile rains that rose from the River Acheron. The river of blood. But the garments would be washed and, more often than not, the blood was already part of them. The story they were hearing, however, was something new.
Each of them had their own: elves stolen from a monastery, goliaths sold as fighting slaves, dwarfs, orcs, vampires, elephantaurs. Fighters of all races, ages, and genders surrounded Alexander Rage even as the bloody rain whipped their faces. A distant bolt of lightning sent a flash of red light through the camp followed by a burst of thunder that sounded more like the beat of a colossal heart than the crackling of electricity.
Alexander closed his eyes and turned his face upward. His body still ached from the fight he had won against the nameless. The injuries from the fight itself had strained him, but not as much as the effect of the invisible field that kept the slaves contained in the area and that had sent him flying back into the fighting pit when he'd headed for the crowd. The same field that no doubt enveloped the whole camp, ensuring none of them would be able to escape--even if they were stupid enough to dive into the river of death.
Every drop on his scarred face was welcomed. No matter how distorted and evil this place was, the universal constant of change applied here as well. Just as the blood of the dead left the river to fly, form clouds, and eventually come down on them before ending up back in the river, so too would the tyrants that had risen long ago fall under the blade.
And if there ever was a better smithy for the blade that would behead a tyrant, it was a group of people sharing pain and exhaustion. A group of long-oppressed slaves beaten, tortured, raped, killed, and brought back only to serve the same purposes again. Slaves who would forge a guillotine for any master.
"Are you falling asleep, berserker?" the dwarf doctore asked, his familiar voice barely audible above the rain.
"I knew of a dwarven king that would fall asleep sitting on his throne," Alexander said, and for the first time since he was brought to this gods-forsaken place he smiled. "'I'm just resting me eyes' is what he used to say."
But when he thought about the dwarf's fate, the smile faded from his face just as fast as it had formed.
"Drink this," Yalfrigg said, and passed him a leather-bound flask, heavy with liquid in it.
Item: Superior Analgesic Potion
Type: Consumable - Potion
Durability : 580/580
Grade: C Grade
Weight: 40st.
Description: A potion brewed from herbs native to the hells and imbued with mana from the infernal planes. Despite its origin in planes commonly associated with inflicting pain rather than relieving it, this potion is so effective that it can even be used as a substitute for anesthesia while operating on the person who consumes it. Its only known side effect is frequent urination.
"I'm fine," Alexander said, and tried to return the drink.
"It's not a request," the dwarf said dryly, pushing it back at him. "Down it."
Alexander uncorked the flask and an intense sulfuric odor had him grimacing before he downed the whole thing. Within seconds, every single pain point in his muscles had disappeared. His body obeyed when he tried to hoist himself to a sitting position, but it felt as if it moved automatically. It didn't feel numb or anything. It didn't feel at all.
"So the new guy gets a painkiller while we need to heal naturally?" a voice shouted from behind Alexander, causing Yalfrigg to sigh deeply.
"When you kill five nameless at once," the male vampire of a set of twins replied, "you can get your own analgesic potion."
"And you're a fucking troll," his sister added, gesturing at the owner of the voice behind Alexander. "Why do you even need a painkiller? You're regenerating faster than any of us."
Name: Zadicus Malkoi
Race: Vampire
Class: Paladin of the Night
Level: 27
Name: Yvonne Malkoi
Race: Vampire
Class: Shadow Slayer
Level: 27
The troll would have known very well, just as anyone who knew the twins did, that they were powerful in their own right--regardless of their level. Very few people confronted vampires and lived to tell the tale, be it because they were promptly killed or glamoured into submission. Perhaps the troll might have been able to take one of them down but definitely not two at once, and sure enough he kept his mouth shut and waited like everyone else.
"Go on then," said Gardun, the battle-scarred orc. "People are getting their hides wet to listen to your story just so they can go back and retell it to their group."
"Is that why there are so many people here?" Alexander asked sarcastically. "I thought you came to wish me a speedy recovery."
"We're here so we can hear the end of the story before you die," said Neleth, the elf Shadow Strider.
"You attacked the bad guys' warehouse, but the boss man wasn't there," Yvonne prompted, "so they got your friend."
"They did," the
