The Bloodless Legend: A LitRPG Apocalypse

11: Cleansing Fire



Algrom’s relief was palpable as he watched the incursion light retract behind him, the one-way cosmic highway of aura closing. He inhaled the fresh grass smell of a new world integrated by the system. He wouldn’t miss the overpopulated bastions. Maybe the bars, a hot bath. Okay, and the brothels.

“Alright, lads, you know the drill, find more metal for our Monarch’s ascension, the forges are burning low and I prefer my head on my neck!” bellowed Algrom’s stocky squad leader, causing the sun-metal in his beard to jingle as he rested his war hammer with a thud.

“Then we abandon this shit-hole and move to the next mountain,” he said, spitting on the ground. Algrom’s monkey-like tail twitched nervously. Unfortunately for his squad leader, Algrom had a different mission. His armour felt extra heavy as he looked at his fellow Vanarians. He bit his lip hesitantly.

“Pull your shit together, greenhorn!” the squad leader roared at Algrom.

“Yes sir. Sorry, sir!” Algrom said, his orange beard shaking as he stomped his feet in deference. Suck butter from my ass! A lone bead of sweat trickled down the fur on his forehead as he lagged behind his squad, so they were hiking in front of him. The Dawnbreaker order is not going to be happy with me if they catch me.

The screams of his comrades echoed through the mountains as his body blossomed into a weapon of living flame, wreathing everything in cleansing green fire.

Algrom shied away from looking at the charred bodies as he gathered up weapons and shoved them in his spatial storage pouch for later. He quickly changed into a special item he had procured – a human shirt, and puffed his rotund chest out proudly as he smoothed out some crinkles in the shirt. He then rummaged around in his backpack to ensure his special greeting was safe. It was. His thick eyebrows wiggled like happy caterpillars.

“All set!” His tail swished enthusiastically. He thought about his mission for the order of Gardeners while he limped away, using his staff as a crutch. Sometimes you plant seeds, sometimes you prune weeds.


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