Everything had gone wrong.

  From the moment Elijah Hart entered the equation, all of Isaiah Roberts’ plans had begun to crumble. Certainly, the Druid had facilitated Isaiah’s rise to power. Without Hart’s efforts, Isaiah would still be dealing with those dim idiots who’d taken over Mercer Mesa. Or worse, he’d have fallen under the power of someone like Bruce Garet.

  But Hart had killed the guild leader, clearing the way for Isaiah to take full control of Seattle. By all rights, Isaiah should have used that relationship to foster an alliance with the most powerful man in the world.

  He hadn’t, though, and he wasn’t so delusional as to fool himself into believing it was a good decision. The issue was that Hart represented so many qualities he hated. The Druid was flippant when he should have been serious. Unreliable when he should have been steadfast. And vengeful when he should have taken a step back to reassess the situation.

  Isaiah didn’t dispute Hart’s power. That was obvious enough for anyone with eyes. Nor had he set out to create lasting enmity. Aside from that ill-fated scheme during the Summit, Isaiah had mostly ignored the man.

  Mostly.

  Sure, there was surveillance, and he had plans to deal with the Druid if things truly went sour. But that wasn’t anything new. He’d taken similar steps concerning most of the world’s elite. That was just good sense.

  In any case, Isaiah had left Hart to his own devices, and the Druid had responded by conquering one Primal Realm after another. It seemed his ascent was unstoppable. The only solace lay in the fact that he’d never shown any interest in ruling. Apart from being ill-suited for such an endeavor, he seemed more focused on his own progress. A good thing, too. If he’d wanted to take over, he could have, and without much in the way of resistance.

  Everyone knew it, too.

  Perhaps if they’d all worked together, they could have rivaled him. But that was a fantasy of the worst kind. If Hart was irresponsible, then his counterparts across the world were petty, self-interested, and often paranoid. They all saw one another as threats, and the likelihood they’d put their self-imposed enmity aside and turn their attention to their world’s resident monster-in-human-form was incredibly low.

  Which was why Isaiah had been so shocked to receive that message from Hart. He’d characterized it as an invitation to a meeting, but Isaiah could read between the lines well enough to recognize just how important it was.

  Was Hart finally making a move? Maybe, but Isaiah doubted it. Everything suggested that he just didn’t have that in him. More importantly, Isaiah knew something the others assuredly did not.

  Hart had conquered the Primal Realm known as the Broken Crown, and he’d planted some sort of tree nearby. He claimed it was meant to siphon power from the Primal Realm, and Isaiah was inclined to believe him. It made sense, based on everything else he’d learned of late. What did not make sense was that Hart had coopted forces from Seattle in an effort to protect said tree.

  Already, Colonel Jessup had committed to building a fortress around it. It had required Isaiah’s approval, but his advisors had made it clear that if he withheld his consent, the project would have gone ahead without him. It was just further evidence that his grip on his city had wavered.

  The vultures were already out. The city’s various factions were ready to pick over his corpse. Did it matter that none of it would have worked without him? No. Of course not. They didn’t see him out there fighting monsters or running towers, so he must not be doing anything.

  They couldn’t know just how much he’d put into keeping the city running properly.

  Isaiah could almost sigh at their stupidity. But it was neither the time nor the place. As he observed the other world leaders sitting around the table, he kept his expression impassive.

  In all, there were ten people seated around the table. The four most powerful guild leaders were the most prominent, largely because they had provided the venue. Representatives from Ironshore and Argos were there as well. The leader from Kalki had come, though she seemed to regret it – probably because Ram Khandu couldn’t read the signs of her disinterest. Isaiah also recognized Hu Shui, with whom he’d had the most dealings. And finally, there was an older woman he took to be the leader from Svetogorsk.

  Almost all of them were stronger than Isaiah. He’d worked incredibly hard to gain the levels he had, but he’d long given up hope of keeping up with combatants. But comparing himself to them was a path of folly, especially when he believed his efforts in cultivation far outstripped theirs.

  At present, he’d reached the second stage in every category, which he felt was a monumental achievement. In addition, he’d passed level one-fifty – another huge milestone for someone who didn’t routinely venture into combat. Could he stand up to the others in a fight? Certainly not. But he had plenty of other strengths.

  Isaiah also had plans to shore up his combat abilities, though his research suggested they wouldn’t reach fruition until he was well into the demi-god tier. However, he also knew that, for most of the world’s combatants, their progress would soon began to plateau. The guides had been very clear about that.

  There was even a name for it – The First Wall, which referred to the last ten levels of ascendency, and by all accounts the name was apt. Breaking through The First Wall demanded as much experience as every prior ascendent level combined. Becoming a demi-god was no small feat, and the experience requirement made that clear.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Combatants leveled early and often, but that speed was incredibly difficult to maintain. By contrast, the climb for non-combatants like Isaiah was much, much smoother, and in most cases, safer.

  In any event, he felt that in time, he would catch everyone on Earth. Even Elijah Hart.

  Almost as if he’d been summoned by the thought, the Druid himself arrived at that very moment. Isaiah forcefully suppressed a gasp at the man’s chosen attire. It was the very same suit he’d worn when he’d dropped a thousand bodies on the steps of Seattle’s capital building. Back then, the suit had been covered in blood and dirt, but now, it was as pristine as the day it had been made.

  But as striking as that white suit – with green dragons encircling the sleeves – nobody in the room really noticed it. Not against the backdrop of the man wearing it.

  Jessup’s reports had claimed that Hart had grown even more powerful, but Isaiah had dismissed those reports as exaggerations. One look at Hart put the lie to that assumption.

  Isaiah had no real context for a demi-god’s aura, but it wouldn’t take much of an argument to convince him that Hart had passed into that stage. His mere presence was overbearing in a way that made Isaiah’s breath catch in his lungs. And he wasn’t the only one, either.

  All around him, pulses quickened and ethera swirled. Everyone in that room – the most powerful people on Earth – knew that they were in the presence of an apex predator.

  “Good to see that everyone has arrived,” Hart said in a strikingly pleasant voice. His emerald eyes flicked from one person to another, so quickly that the motion was barely discernible. “I see a couple of faces I did not expect to see.”

  “This is a period of transition,” said Davu Adebowale as he stood. Until Hart showed up, the African man had been the highest level in the room. Isaiah had confirmed that himself. But now, he just seemed like a pretender to a throne that didn’t even matter. “Recently, the League of Ancients bypassed Indra’s Edge, though there is some dispute as to the…ah…veracity of the evaluation. I thought it best to invite both.”

  Ram Khandu glared at the other guild leader – Desmond Farina – with undisguised hatred. The other man ignored him. That served to infuriate the Indian man even further. And given the way he’d been fawning over Anupriya Pandey, Isaiah had no doubts as to the source of his embarrassment. Though it was entirely possible the man’s enmity went further than a simple desire to impress a potential romantic partner.

  Hart nodded. “That’s fine. Probably best if everyone hears what I have to say,” he allowed. “Thank you for sending Chester to me, by the way. Always nice to see a friendly face.”

  Adebowale gave him a succinct bow of his head. Deference? Magnanimity? Isaiah couldn’t tell. But he would be incredibly surprised if the man didn’t hold at least a little enmity for Hart. No powerful person achieved their place without at least a little arrogance, after all, and none of them enjoyed having their position so summarily usurped.

  “I guess we can get started, then,” Hart said. “Unless there are more coming?”

  There weren’t.

  Everyone shifted in their seats before he began. “We all know that our world faces an extinction-level event. Some of you might have seen the lasting effects of excisement during the Trial of Primacy. You know that if we fail to close the Primal Realms, the vast majority of humanity will die.

  “But I’m not here to talk about how we’re going to avoid excisement,” he went on, surprising even Isaiah. Hart nodded at Isaiah, adding, “Seattle has led the way in our efforts to find and combat the Primal Realms. And to date, we’ve made good progress. I’ve personally dealt with three of them. Svetogorsk conquered the Endless War, while a coalition of forces are even now fighting through the Red Marsh in the Hollow Depths.”

  He let that sink in for a moment. Five of the nine Primal Realms had already been conquered, which meant that there was still time to finish the task. The remaining four had already been located as well.

  There was one only a few thousand miles from where they sat, but to date, no one had been able to get close enough to determine its nature. Meanwhile, guild forces had discovered the angel Primal Realm deep out to sea, while Isaiah had found the one associated with sphynxes. Though like the case with the Broken Crown, none of his forces had been able to reach it.

  But it was only a matter of time.

  “As I said,” Hart went on. “I didn’t ask you all here to talk about how we’re going to defeat the Primal Realms. I trust that, together, we’ll get that done.”

  “Then why are we here?” asked Gix, the lone goblin at the table.

  “To talk about what comes next,” Hart stated. “This has been on my mind ever since I visited the Hollow Depths, and what I saw in the Painted Wastes around the Broken Crown just cemented the idea that we can’t let this happen again.”

  From there, he went on to explain what everyone else already knew – that the longer Primal Realms were left unconquered, the more dangerous they became. In most cases, that meant that not only would the challenges within those pocket realms become even deadlier, but their influence on the real world would also continuously spread. The best example of the phenomena was the trolls, who’d conquered vast swaths of the Hollow Depths. Something similar had happened in the Painted Wastes, preventing Seattle’s forces from even reaching the Primal Realm itself.

  “It’s not outside the realm of possibility that some of these Primal Realms might become too powerful to easily manage,” the Druid went on. “They are resources to be used. Without them, we’ll never be ready for whatever comes next.”

  Before he could continue, one of the representatives of Argos asked, “Do we know what’s coming?”

  Hart shook his head. “It might be as simple as a more streamlined connection to the rest of the multi-verse,” he guessed. “Or maybe another challenge. I have no idea, and none of the guides I’ve seen have been much help. Maybe some of our friends from off-world might provide more insight?”

  The elf, Shanala, who led the simply named guild the Crusaders, spoke up, “This planet is an anomaly. None of our preparations have proven valid. We have no way of knowing what to expect.”

  “What do you propose?” asked Isaiah, finally speaking up. He already had some inkling of what Hart had planned, and he wanted to move the meeting forward.

  “Trees,” the Druid said. “I’ve already planted three, so I know they’ll work.”

  “What good will trees do?” asked Anupriya Pandey.

  Hart then explained what Isaiah already knew – that his trees could siphon energy from the Primal Realms, keeping them under control. “That way, they won’t ever become too powerful for us to manage,” he said. “But my issue is that I can’t protect them myself. They are powerful natural treasures, doubtless with many uses. Right now, the guilds are protecting one, while Seattle has agreed to protect another. The first is guarded by Ironshore’s forces.

  “Everyone is stretched thin, though. We all know it. Not only is everyone trying to level so they can meet the challenges facing this planet, but they’re also trying to overcome the threat of excisement. So, I’m here, asking for help. I propose that we all come together and create a plan to guard these trees. For the greater good.”

  When it became clear that Hart had finished his pitch, a murmur of conversation began. Some voices were louder than others, but it didn’t take much for Isaiah to make himself heard.

  He cleared his throat and stood. When everyone quieted, he asked the most obvious question. The one on everyone’s mind. “Pardon my cynicism, but what is in this for you?” he asked.

  If you'd like to read more of Path of Dragons, we're almost two full books ahead (book 13 ends on the 14th) on Patreon. That's 165+ extra chapters, so a ton of extra content for those of you who can't wait to see what Elijah will get up to. Anyway - check it out .

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