This Dark Shore: The Resonance Cycle: Book 4 [Isekai, LitRPG] by Aaron Renfroe

Author:Aaron Renfroe [Renfroe, Aaron]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pivot Press, LLC
Published: 2023-10-16T16:00:00+00:00

Interlude Eleven: Teach Them

Hadarken appeared in the teleportation ring. His sheer magical presence caused the legendary battle robe to flutter around his muscular figure. The orange hues of the early morning struck across the barrier around the ring, reflecting off the armor of the nearby guards. They looked at him, noting the four interlaced claw marks of his rank.

“Many of our city support your god,” one guard, a scarred woman with the air of a veteran, said. “We would appreciate a peaceful visit.”

“Your request has been heard,” Hadarken said, voice like chewed gravel. The language of merchants was not comfortable in his mouth. Still, as the guard noted, Tulivan was not his god’s enemy.

Hadarken left the circle and made his circuitous way around the edge of the town. His heart cried out for sudden and overwhelming violence against all who did not bow to the Mother, but he forestalled. He and his brethren were hidden weapons, tools of last resort. It would not do to make a spectacle of his appearance, even if the days of their operating in secret were swiftly ending.

Chill fog, the last remnants of the night, rose from the cobblestones as he approached the highly enchanted building. The arched double doors, easily fifteen feet tall and covered with powerful magic, were closed.

“How unusual,” Hadarken mused, climbing the steps to knock on the door.

When no one answered, he struck again, this time applying more force. A boom filled the air, audible even outside the building. Finally, the doors clicked open. An elderly priest in a simple shirt and pants blinked out at him. The old man’s shirt bore the twin marks of Chaos and the Monster god.

“Sire?” the priest’s voice cracked.

“I have come for the vault,” Hadarken said without preamble. “Where is one of your high priests, or the archbishop?”

Standing aside, the priest waved him in. “Great one, I regret to inform you that neither is on the premises. We saw Kiol a few hours ago, but he was in too much of a rush to talk with us.”

Entering the building, Hadarken closed the door behind him. The grand chamber beyond the doors was high-vaulted and open, matching the standard template for many Volarian temples. Polished stone flooring glistened, reflecting a colorful, static-filled mosaic on the domed ceiling. Sunlight peeked through one vast window, splintering into prismatic color that sprayed across the room, giving it an eye-wrenching glow.

Taking the theatrical display in briefly, Hadarken said, “Gather every priest in this place here. Now.”

The priest seemed about to respond to Hadarken’s unusual demand, but something in the mir’s face made him think better of it. Turning, he scuttled away.

Hadarken watched the priest, analyzing the way he moved. There was a subtle precision in the man’s steps, a hint of self-awareness that belied an infinitesimal deviation from the norm for Chaos priests. Having lived through many cycles of the Mad god’s temperate nature, he recognized the symptoms of the deity’s lucid period. When Chaos was cunning, his priests often gained some measure of that facility.

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