New Series Announcement!

Something a bit different for my new series. I'm excited to say that I have acquired the license to write a LitRPG series set in the Mythica film universe. Mythica is a five film Fantasy series produced by Arrowstorm Entertainment. While they don't have a huge Hollywood budget like Lord of the Rings, they did an excellent job producing a fun series with great characters. If you haven't checked it out, give the movies a watch. They are available for free on Prime Video and most other streaming services.   

My series will feature a new character, Sabine Giroux, and while she will interact with a few side characters from the films, her journey will take quite a different path than the hero's in the film.

Here's the Intro chapter and I'll be posting other chapters regularly.  

Mythica, Book 1, The Revenant.


Intro.

The act of running was still strange for Kalibax, even after all the months that he had spent in this new existence. He could feel the weariness in his limbs, his body slowing down as the fatigue mounted, but there was a piece missing from it. It was the breathing; he didn’t do that anymore. The burn of trying to suck enough air into his lungs during a hard run was gone, not that he missed it exactly. It was more that its absence was another reminder that he was no longer the man he had once been. He wasn’t really alive.

None of that would matter now, not if he couldn’t make it through the trial. The first three trials had been easy enough, opponents that he could best, but this time, well, the only thing that Kalibax could think of was that this strange space had determined that it was time for his past to catch up with him. Here, the gods could neither favor nor hamper. Here, he was truly alone, left to his own devices.

“You can’t keep this pace up and still fight them off,” Kalibax muttered to himself. He slowed to a fast walk, and the feeling of exhaustion began to wane. He recovered so much faster now, and with his new abilities, could even heal himself to a certain extent. He would need it all if he was going to beat this trial. The numbers were against him, but he was Kalibax, and Kalibax had never shirked away from a bloody fight.

The tunnel he was in wasn’t as narrow as he’d like, the enemy could fight two abreast while he was alone. Of course, you didn’t necessarily want or need someone at your side when you wielded a greatsword. The blade gave a slight hiss as he pulled it from the sheath, the enchanted steel glinting in the light of the torches than lined the tunnel. His skinny frame made the blade look comically oversized, but Kalibax’s body held more strength than one would suspect from just looking at it.

Shadows flickered in the tunnel as his opponents neared. They always looked like that, indistinct shapes that only solidified when they closed in on their target. Kalibax touched the runes on the handle of his blade, letting some of his power flow into it. He could feel the connection to the weapon, the intelligence inside trying to assert its dominance.

The blade likely had a name, but his connection wasn’t strong enough yet to unlock it. As always, the blade was greedy, trying to draw more than it needed, trying to draw all of Kalibax’s life force if it could. He was the master of this blade, and the danger to him was negligible when wielding it. Should another try to draw and power this weapon, they would likely fail and become a husk, empty of life and magical power.

Just looking at the blade made Kalibax’s eyes itch from the sharpness enchantment. It was devastating on his foes, even on these creatures conjured from the void that this place used to test his worthiness. The first of his pursuers now moved close enough to take on their flesh and blood forms. He didn’t recognize any of them this time, but they were surely victims he had taken in his past. It was the same with each trial. One of the pair appeared to be a blacksmith, wearing tattered peasant clothing and a leather apron. The other wore the colors of some forgotten town guard force and held an old, battered longsword in a steady grip.

“Come, meet my blade. I killed you once, and I shall do so again,” Kalibax said, slashing in a wide arc to hit both foes. One of his foes, the blacksmith, lifted his hammer to block the sword. Kalibax’s enchantments proved stronger than the simple tool and clove through the handle before slicing through the stout body of the blacksmith. Kalibax’s strength was enough that the blow continued through the body of the blacksmith and deep into the side of the guardsman, the pain of the wound causing Kalibax’s foe to drop his sword.

Fighting through the pain, the guardsman launched himself at Kalibax trying to grab his arms. A kick to the guardsman’s chest gave Kalibax enough time to reset his blade into position for another strike. The powerful kick hurled the guardsman into the solid stone of the tunnel wall. Kalibax could hear the sickening crunch of bones breaking from the impact. Both of his opponents were now out of the fight, but these weren’t his only foes. That was the problem with the trial this time, too many foes. A dozen now filled the tunnel, shadows turning into flesh and blood bodies as they sought to confront Kalibax.

These were not all weak townsfolk or poorly armed guardsmen. Some of them were deadly warriors, adventurers, assassins, and even a mage or two. He had lived fifty years in his first life, and most of those had been drenched in the blood of battle. He tried to convince himself that these weren’t the actual souls of those he had killed, just creations of this strange place, but he couldn’t quite believe it.

A familiar pull of his energy occurred as he activated one of his new abilities, Flame Blade. Magical blue fire lit the edge of his sword as Kalibax pointed it down the tunnel. More of his magical energy and life force was pushed into the blade, and the conflagration around the enchanted steel grew. Kalibax was the conjurer of the flame, and thus had had a natural resistance to it, but even for him, the heat started to become painful before he finally cut off the mana and mouthed the activation command.

A stream of flame poured from the tip of the sword and flowed down the tunnel. The heat incinerated the lead attackers, leaving nothing but charred bones. Those further back were also felled, but the ability no longer had the power to turn them to dust. As it hit the next rank of foes, the flames finally sputtered out, but not before inflicting grievous wounds on his assailants. Of the dozen that had stood against him, only five remained, and all of them were badly injured.

Rushing forward, Kalibax became a blur of steel and strength. His blade began to push a feeling of rage through the hilt, trying to force Kalibax into a berserker’s blind fury, exhorting him to greater feats of slaughter. More and more enemies entered the fight as the stream of shadowy figures continued to flow down the tunnel. Many spoke to him, each foe accusing him, repeating how Kalibax had originally ended their lives. At first, he ignored them, the rage of battle blotting out the yammering of his opponents, but as his strength began to wane, so did his resistance to their call.

“I was a new recruit, forced into war, why couldn’t you have shown me mercy?” One of the attackers pleaded.

“I was just a traveling tinker and posed no threat to you, yet you cut me down and stole my wealth.” Another of the attackers claimed.

“My skill surpassed yours. It was only blind luck that you lived, and I died that night.” Said one that Kalibax remembered. He had been a self-proclaimed master swordsman that challenged him in a tavern duel over a spilled drink. A few coppers worth of ale was all that this man’s life had been worth.

“You filled your life with blood and war, son, and I couldn’t take it any longer.” A voice accused.

The last whisper broke his concentration. There in front of Kalibax was his father. Why was he here? Kalibax had never hurt him, never lifted a hand against him. He even sent back money when he could, trying to be a dutiful son, even if his parents had never approved of the life he led.

“I never struck you down, you aren’t my father,” Kalibax said, backing away from the latest foe. More attackers tried to push their way past, but his father exuded an aura that forced the others back.

“Come on, put down your blade and return home. Stop the killing and be at peace,” his father pleaded. Kalibax felt sorrow for the first time in decades. He had killed his father, not with a sword, but with his actions. Shame, sadness, and disappointment over the crimes that Kalibax committed had driven his father into an early grave. But here his father was, holding back those who sought their revenge. Father was the only one without a weapon, the only one that greeted him with open arms and not shouts for bloody vengeance.

He raised his blade but couldn’t bring himself to strike down what might be the soul of his father. Kalibax backed away, allowing the blade to drop and drag on the floor. The enchanted weapon screamed in his mind, telling him to continue the slaughter or all was lost. Kalibax heard the blade, but ignored it, if this was his father, maybe there was a way to complete the trial other than through bloodshed and destruction.

“That’s right, son, you remember me, don’t you?” Father asked as he walked toward Kalibax. The face in front of him changed as Kalibax’s passive ability, Eyes of Undeath, began to function. The features of his father flickered for a brief instant, revealing the true face beneath the familiar visage.

“Die, deceiver!” Kalibax shouted as he tried to ready his blade for a strike. He had only caught a brief glimpse of the true face of the one claiming to be his father, but it was enough for him to recognize.

“Too late,” his thing wearing his father’s face mocked, raising his hands before Kalibax could strike. Something slipped from the thing’s sleeve, a small stick. No, it wasn’t a stick, it was a wand. With a flick of his foe’s wrist, the wand shot forth a burst of destructive energy. Using reflexes honed over two lifetimes of battle, Kalibax raised his blade, and the huge sword intercepted the magic blast, absorbing the energy for Kalibax to use later.

“I think I remember you, Seravas the Faceless. You were one of my bounties, one that was damnably difficult to collect if I recall,” Kalibax said. Seravas dropped his father’s face, showing his true visage, or at least the one that Kalibax associated with him. Who knew what the true face was of a wizard that specialized in deception and disguise, a wizard who might not have even been human to begin with?

“Indulge me, Kalibax, help me to understand something from our first encounter, something that has always eluded me. How did you know I was wearing the face of your employer? My enchantment was perfect,” Seravas asked while continuing to flick bolts of magic at Kalibax. Each bolt was easily intercepted and Kalibax saw the glowing runes on the wand dim, one after another as each charge was expended.

“It was the drink. You wore the face of Hammerhead sure enough, and even talked like him and had most of the mannerisms down pat,” Kalibax said, thrusting toward his foe, who barely managed to dodge the tip of the sword. A fresh barrage of magic bolts streamed toward him from the wand, the last of the runes going dark as Seravas considered what Kalibax had said.

“The drink? How did that give me away?” Seravas asked. Kalibax was more than happy to keep him talking. Seravas’ aura was holding the other attackers at bay and blocking a few bolts from a wand didn’t take much energy, in fact, as his sword absorbed the magic they contained, it fed some of it back to Kalibax, easing his weariness, mending his wounds, and granting him more strength.

“You held your drink in your right hand,” Kalibax replied.

“So? Hammerhead must have been right-handed if that’s the one I used,” Seravas said, a confused look on his face.

“True, you got that correct with whatever magic or ability you used to mimic him, but while Hammerhead was right-handed, he always drank with his left, keeping his right hand ready to grab his axe at any time,” Kalibax said.

“So that was it. To think such a minor error ended my illustrious life,” Seravas whined.

“As it has again,” Kalibax growled as Seravas flicked the wand toward him. A weak bolt of energy flew out, the wand gave off a fizzling sound as the last of its power was drained. Instead of blocking a bolt, as Seravas expected, Kalibax took the hit and activated one of his combat abilities, Dual Strike. He swung the sword at Seravas, who dodged the blow, but instantly another strike lashed out, catching Seravas in the neck and ending him for a second, and hopefully final, time.

Without Seravas holding them back, the horde of attackers shot forth. There were so many now that Kalibax couldn’t take the time to consider if the faces of any of them were familiar. One after another, his foes were cut down. Some, the more skilled of the bunch, managed to sneak in a strike or two, but his body was enhanced well beyond that of a normal human and the wounds did little to slow him down. Still humming with the energy that it had absorbed from the wand, his blade fed healing magic into Kalibax, slowly mending the few wounds he did accumulate.

He could go on for some time in this type of fight, but eventually, the energy from his blade waned, as did Kalibax’s strength. The wounds came more frequently as the tired hands wielding his blade missed block after block. He used all his abilities, the second charge of Dual Strike, Blade Shield, and his last resort option, Blood Frenzy. The frenzy pushed him into a state of pure offensive power, and newfound energy flowed into his tired limbs.

Normally, as his ultimate ability, Blood Frenzy would doom any foe during the ten seconds it was active. Kalibax’s vision turned to a red haze as the ability took hold, his body no longer under his control as he hacked into the flood of attackers. Farmers, warriors, mages, orcs, dwarves, and untold monsters went down, but when the frenzy ended, there were still more waiting to strike.

He had done all he could, and now the negative effects of Blood Frenzy hit, sapping his strength and dimming the enchantment on his blade for an hour. After that hour was up, he could once again fight at full strength, though the ability would take at least a week to recharge.

Sadly, Kalibax didn’t have an hour, and inside the torch-lit tunnel, he was buried under a swarm of foes as his victims claimed their final vengeance.

***

“Well, that didn’t go as planned, Kalibax. You had shown some promise, but it appears you made too many enemies in your lifetime. No matter, another champion will be created to serve me, and this time, my champion will not have the baggage you brought with you,” A voice like the whisper of the grave said as Kalibax’s life force fled his body for the last time.