The reluctant sorcerer a.., p.1
The Reluctant Sorcerer: A LitRPG Fantasy, page 1
The Reluctant Sorcerer
A LitRPG Fantasy
Author: Larry Phillips
Table of contents
Prologue
Prologue
Chapter 1 - Retribution by Rem
Chapter 2: Retail Therapy in Seven Hills
Chapter 3: The Confrontation at Dusk
Chapter 4: A Fresh Start and New Threads
Chapter 5: The Reluctant Guest and Her Unyielding Attendant
Chapter 6 – A Conundrum in the Flaming Steppes
Chapter 7– The Weight of Power
Chapter 8: Comrades of Combat
Chapter 9 – The Lady of the Mantids
Chapter 10: A Lesson in Limpet-hood
Chapter 11: Strategic Conversations
Chapter 12: Oceanic Specters
Chapter 13: A Spectrum of Wonders
Chapter 14 – The Skeleton Squad
Chapter 15: The PG Version
Chapter 16: A Lurking Menace
Chapter 17 – Musings of Mem
Chapter 18 – The Hesitant Guardian
Chapter 19 – Tactical Ingenuity
Chapter 20: The Art of Questioning and Detainment
Chapter 21: An Unforgettable Encounter with Mem
Chapter 22: The Dark Arts Reimagined
Chapter 23: The Citadel of Ancient Remains
Chapter 24: The Best of Times with Man's Best Friend
The Odyssey of a Reluctant Lich
Chapter 25: The Dilemma of Power and Conscience
Chapter 26: Evaluating Forces
Chapter 27: A Fight for Survival
Chapter 28: Triumph and Tactics
Chapter 29: The Subtle Art of Questioning
Chapter 30 - Tangled Traditions
Chapter 31 - The Skeletons' March
Chapter 32: Conversations in the Bone Chamber
Chapter 33: Schemes in the Making
Chapter 34 - The Overseer's Ordeals
Chapter 35: The Aroma of the Marshes
Chapter 36: Delicate Diplomacy
Chapter 37: Breaking the Encirclement
Chapter 39 - Cutting Remarks
Chapter 40: Cinder's Unplanned Stay
Chapter 41: Devotees of the Eldritch
Chapter 42: Leading the Charge
Chapter 43 - Volatile Venoms
Prologue
The imprint of my life's most disenchanting day remains crystal clear in my memory. I was somewhere between my sixtieth and seventieth year on this earth, an eminent mage and unparalleled scholar in the arcane disciplines.
My reach was limitless, no field too convoluted or foreboding for me to demystify.
A mutual understanding existed between myself and the world's nations. I would respect their sovereignty if they allowed me periodic access to their treasure troves of arcane knowledge.
To me, knowledge ought to be a shared commodity, principally with yours truly.
I was in a state of relative satisfaction, even happiness. The joy of making a new discovery, of another jigsaw piece fitting perfectly, never failed to uplift my spirits.
That evening, I was deeply engrossed in a set of trials. My lab was permeated with the odor of poultry blood and viscera; my arms, sheathed in gloves, were elbow-deep in scientific detritus. A typical, fruitful night.
My memory of that exact moment is somewhat blurred due to the passage of centuries. I was instructing an apprentice, one of many who sought tutelage under me, absorbed in their own intellectual pursuits.
In the arcane realm, both art and science are intrinsically linked. Even a minor change could influence the efficacy of a complex incantation. Such fluctuations could, of course, be mitigated with sheer willpower and magical potency, but that would equate to failure.
This would be akin to an artistic genius camouflaging an error with an additional coat of paint, rather than comprehending the reason each brushstroke had a distinct impact.
Eureka! I had just empirically determined the cause for the inconsistent results in a series of taboo spells related to soul extraction. The positions of the celestial bodies did, in fact, exert influence over magical phenomena. I had evidence to support it!
This breakthrough promised to immortalize my name once again. So engrossed was I in this revelation that I almost disregarded the internal alert indicating that I had leveled up.
However, my jubilant expression turned into a mask of dismay as I examined my attributes.
For a fleeting moment, the world appeared to plunge into a chasm of bewilderment and doubt.
Level: Max
Those were the two solitary words displayed at the zenith of my status screen. Nothing else. Just those two.
I would love to proclaim that my disillusionment and resentment towards the universe, its governing system, and the gods, commenced right then. But that wouldn't be entirely accurate.
I directed my apprentice to conclude our ongoing experiments, and retreated to my personal quarters to partake of some wine and engage in introspection.
Reaching the cap on certain statistics over the years wasn't uncommon, and the cessation of their growth was only mildly frustrating. However, when the indicator of my overall might reached its apex, the implications were dire.
The avenue for further advancement was closed. There was no longer any incentive to conduct research for experience points or to combat creatures to analyze their magical essence.
In a rare exhibition of uncontrolled emotion, I hurled a wine goblet across the chamber. I had just unearthed the unsettling truth that a cornerstone of my existence was not collapsing but had always been devoid of purpose.
This, understandably, was a circumstance I could not let stand.
In the subsequent years, my scholarly pursuits shifted from merely understanding arcane knowledge and cosmic mysteries. Those alone were insufficient. Mere magical prowess did not satiate me.
I yearned for something greater, a purpose anew.
My initial goal was eternal life.
Achieved through methods too ominous to mention, whole civilizations crumbled, and terrifying beasts that once haunted entire regions were reduced to mere components for my experiments. Would-be heroes rose to challenge me, their intentions noble yet naive. They served as valuable specimens for my ongoing experiments.
Having achieved true immortality, I then aspired for more.
I had the choice to become a sovereign, an emperor leading an undead legion that would never tire. Yet, ruling held no appeal for me.
What wisdom could I glean from watching commoners fight amongst themselves? What invaluable insights could traders offer me? Why lower myself to engage in the petty ambitions of aristocrats, who were obsessed with trivial matters like status, dignity, and dominion, and preferred to take rather than earn?
No. My goal was divinity itself.
Religious authorities ridiculed me, only to fall eventually. Divine magic was still magic, and magic was my realm of expertise.
Even gods initially ridiculed my pursuits, only to lament as their heavenly abodes collided with the mortal plane.
And so…
And so…
I became the overseer of the world, millenniums old and the most formidable being to exist. Despite reaching the so-called 'Max' level, many underestimated me.
I considered reshaping the world in my vision, converting it into a sanctuary of wisdom and illumination.
Yet, I found myself exhausted.
Ultimately, I chose to enter a state of hibernation. Not death, as I had already vanquished the entity known as Death. Nor eternal stillness, as I would not let time restrain me. It was simply rest.
I decided to slumber until the universe reached its eventual demise. Then, I would gaze upon the endless expanse of nothingness and demand elucidation.
The luminescent spheres that functioned as my eyes dimmed. My devoted minions, each a labor of love and ingenuity, settled into their own rest. I entered a deep sleep.
And then an irreverent individual had the audacity to rouse me.
Prologue
Rem always found human-inhabited areas unsettling. The ceaseless bustle, the erratic movements of people, it all clashed with her own nature. She was used to silent contemplation before executing any decisive action, a far cry from the perpetual motion of humans. The lack of this deliberate silence made interacting with them a challenge.
Moreover, the sight of her multi-faceted eyes and large mandibles elicited loud, panicked responses from humans. Their shrieks and involuntary spasms when she approached only added to her disdain for them. Fortunately, her Divine Mother had decreed humans off-limits as food; otherwise, they would've had even more to worry about.
Tugging her hood tighter over her face to shield it from view, Rem navigated the city streets. The hood may have constrained her field of vision, but it reduced the instances of human screaming. Cities irked her—the overpowering odors, the scarcity of proper hunting grounds, and the ensuing complexities of urban life, such as the time she consumed a noble's beloved pet.
Flexing her scythe-like arms in preparation, Rem steeled herself for her mission. Her Divine Mother had commanded her and her sisters to hunt down a certain individual. Though she had trouble recalling the details, she knew it involved science and a skeleton-like figure.
In a race against her sisters to find this elusive person, Rem was determined to be the first. Success would mean she would get the privilege
of devouring her slower siblings. She grinded her mandibles together to prevent her corrosive saliva from dribbling onto her robe.
Speaking of which, she had to wear these ridiculous human garments—robes, of all things. She abhorred the idea. Clothing was unnatural to her; if she had the facial muscles for it, she would have frowned in displeasure.
Stopping at the heart of the city square, she surveyed the area. She appreciated its straightforward design—a square layout surrounded by square buildings. The chaotic shouts of vendors and the passage of horse-drawn carriages were less appealing, especially given that she couldn't snack on the horses in public.
But then, a new scent caught her attention. A different aroma that stood out amid the stench of manure and human perspiration. Her multiple eyes quickly located a young man grilling a small piece of meat at a food stall. Her hunting instincts were frustrated by city life, but occasionally, she'd find ready-made food like this.
She approached the stall cautiously, mindful of the human practice of exchanging metallic tokens for goods. She was no fool; she understood the concept of currency. Her Divine Mother's servants had even provided her with a pouch of coins for her mission.
And so, Rem stood in front of the stall, contemplating her next move.
The issue lay in the fact that her blade-like appendages were ill-suited for rummaging through a small purse for a single piece of currency. But that was the merchant's problem, not hers.
Positioning herself in front of the vendor's cart, she caught the eye of the man rotating the meat on the spit. "Anything I can assist you with?" he queried, pausing his task. "Our beef is especially fresh today."
Unsheathing her hood to express herself more clearly, Rem chittered loudly to signal her interest in his wares. Predictably, the man recoiled, babbling about divine intervention from his emperor. Humans could be so dense.
Feeling exasperated, she clicked her mandibles and focused her attention. Although she was fluent in the local human dialect, she couldn't keep up with the multitude of languages humans felt the need to create.
"I desire sustenance," she finally spoke, her irritation evident. "I will have some of this meat."
The merchant, having regained his composure somewhat, eyed her cautiously before nodding. "Understood," he stammered, detaching the meat from the spit and skewering it onto a long stick.
Rem observed the skewered meat and then her bladed arms, excellent tools for slicing and dicing but quite inconvenient for holding things. Humans did have the upper hand in that regard.
With meticulous aim, she thrust her arm forward, skewering the meat and securing it with one of her arm's smaller spikes. She drew it toward her open mandibles as the merchant looked on, his face ashen.
She consumed the meat, her mandibles tearing it into pieces and depositing them onto her acidic palps. "Great Emperor," the man whispered under his breath.
When she was finished, only a saliva-covered stick remained. She tossed it aside and leaned closer to the merchant. "What's the cost?"
"Beg pardon?" the man stammered.
"The price. What is it?" she clarified.
He pointed at a sign hanging on his cart. She glanced at the inscrutable scribbles and then back at him. "Speak the amount."
"It's two coppers," he managed to say.
She pointed towards her waistband where her pouch of silver coins was located. "The funds are here," she indicated.
"That's fine, absolutely fine," the man quickly responded.
"Retrieve your payment," she demanded, clicking her mandibles for emphasis. She had no time for accusations of thievery, especially from so-called 'cultivators.'
"Alright," the man said, finally reaching his trembling hand toward her money pouch. After struggling momentarily with its drawstring, he successfully extracted a silver coin.
"I require change," Rem stated.
The vendor practically leapt off the ground, nearly dropping the coin, before securing it. "Absolutely," he stammered.
"I'd also like another serving of meat."
"It's still cooking," the vendor almost sobbed.
Rem wasn't fond of seeing humans cry, particularly the young ones. They often threw fits when they discovered she'd been dining on their pets. If they didn't want their dogs eaten, they should get less appetizing animals.
"Doesn't matter. Another piece of meat. And let's skip the wooden sticks this time," she declared.
Fumbling with his coin pouch, the vendor placed the correct change beside a freshly-cut meat slab. "H-here you are."
"Place it in my bag, you fool," Rem commanded, taking a bite from the meat chunk. She preferred it raw but missed the warmth of cooked meat. Fresh meat usually didn't have this issue.
Once her change was secured, Rem decided to spare the vendor's life as a form of gratitude. She then ambled away, casually picking her mandibles with an arm spike. Sampling food from other stands would add some variety, though it could never replace the thrill of a hunt.
Seven Hills—such a ridiculous name for a city—was located at the border of the Flaming Steppes and the Empire. She was restricted to the Steppes, away from the rest of the Empire. Those like her were considered monsters and often pursued by warriors if they ventured too far from home.
If the skinny man she was tracking passed through here, she would know. Most humans travelled from one city to another using established pathways. They didn't usually go off-road, where the hunting was best.
Positioning herself as a skilled ambush hunter, Rem planned to locate the skinny man and decapitate him, although rewards were not her primary motivation. She was a simple creature.
As she neared the city square's edge, something white amidst the crowd drew her attention. It was a human, gracefully moving in a black gown adorned with white lace.
Rem realized she had seen this person before—someone accompanying her target. Eagerly, she scaled a building to perch on the roof, salivating at the thought of her next meal and the lead to her actual prey.
She remained motionless for a while, hidden in the shadows, watching the elegantly dressed woman shop.
Finally, her patience paid off as the woman entered a nearby alley.
Rem's jaws curled into a pleased smile.
The moment had arrived!
Chapter 1 - Retribution by Rem
Leaping from her perch onto an adjacent rooftop, Rem treaded silently towards its edge. These homes were largely constructed with dense tiles to fend off ash during wintertime. Though protective, these tiles could be loud underfoot—unless one knew precisely where to tread. And Rem did know, for an ambusher must be well-versed in silent movement.
If the servant girl was to navigate the backstreets, she'd likely emerge at...
Identifying her spot, Rem hung one leg over the edge and leaned her torso forward just so, effectively blending into the building's exterior like a discarded garment.
This camouflage was not ideal, but Rem only needed a brief moment to strike.
Light footsteps approached, their sound echoing on the stone-paved lane below, and Rem's muscles coiled in anticipation.
Finally, the servant girl appeared—her face a mask of dull monotony beneath her petite white bonnet, her basket laden with various items.
With a guttural hiss, Rem lunged, scythe-like limbs targeting the servant's throat.
Their eyes met in a fleeting instant before the girl's arm flicked upward with blinding speed—too fast for Rem's five-eyed focus to track.
