The Tree of Ascension: A LitRPG Apocalypse (Peril's Prodigy Book 2) by Craig Kobayashi (ebook reader 7 inch TXT) 📕

a pile of bones next to an open campfire. The fire was encircled by another group of five gnolls, who were conversing with growls and yips.

Behind the campfire was a larger building adorned with red designs. Building may be a generous term, Garath decided as he squinted to get a better look. It was really more like a well-built tent. Through the fog and the smoke from the fires, Garath could barely make out the silhouettes of two more gnolls standing at attention on either side of the open entryway.

*I don’t think I’ll be able to pull the first group without getting the attention of the ones at the campfire,* Auto said. *I’ve also got a feeling those guard towers aren’t just for show.*

“So what do we do?” Daisy asked, eyeing the towers suspiciously.

“Go bird form and dive bomb the towers?” Atlas suggested.

*No go,* Auto told him. *I tried doing an eagle-bear form before the Unibear. This dungeon doesn’t allow flight capable forms.*

“Unibear!” Daisy cheered as Auto adopted her name for his mutant creation over Garath’s.

*We may just have to get their attention, then pull them back to get out of range of… whatever they’ve got in those towers. I’d rather not fight while being shat on from above if we can help it,* Garath said. Then he turned around to look at Handsome with an evil grin twisting his feline features.

*I’ve got an idea,* Garath said. *You guys go back up to the turn. Handsome and I are going on a field trip.*

The Cambionic Flayer looked intently at its summoner before scratching one word into Garath’s mind. *Why?*

Garath was stunned. He’d be god-damned if he didn’t see a hint of worry on the demon’s face. It’s not like he’d ever let the ugly little monster die before, or even take any damage at all really. Bill on the other hand, he had let die before. Despite that, the bonded Fel Hound was looking down at Garath’s tiny form with eager eyes and a long bead of drool hanging from his open mouth, ready to do his summoner’s bidding without question.

*Because Bill isn't as clever as you are,* he told Handsome. Although the statement was probably true, Garath was just buttering the Flayer up a bit. If middle-management had taught him anything, it was that a little ego stroking came second only to a pay raise in terms of motivating underlings. *I won't let anything happen to you, but we've got a job to do. This field trip is not optional, got it?*

*Yes,* Handsome confirmed with a dubious expression. Maybe dubious wasn’t quite right, but Garath was getting the distinct impression that his Flayer was not looking forward to his current mission.

The rest of the Party retreated just beyond the bend at the far-north tip of the island. Garath sent Bill and the Golem to wait with the rest of the Party, then gave Handsome a rundown of his plan to entice the group of gnolls between the towers to give up their fortified position.

Garath enjoyed giving his demons complex orders and watching the ever-improving competence in which they each showed in pulling them off. His connection to the demons had grown from the magical, System-issued bond of servitude into something more like having his own, fucked up little family.

Just off the left side of the dirt path, but not quite to the tree line, the waist-high fog helped to obscure the tiny white Necrologist as he approached the enemy camp with Handsome in tow. There were three main factors that Garath considered while coming up with his little scheme.

The first was that most of his ranged Skills had a 30-meter range. Second, he could summon and dismiss the Flayer from anywhere within 10 meters of his person. The last factor was that, in Garath's experience, dungeon monsters tended to have very game-like perception and, barring any particularly loud noises or dramatic spell casting, they wouldn't notice enemies until they were inside of fifty feet, right around 17 meters. Garath may be an American, but he'd watched enough BBC-produced nature documentaries to understand the metric system just enough to eyeball a rough estimate. When Garath came within spell-casting range of the towers, he stopped and flashed what he hoped was an encouraging look to Handsome as the little demon awkwardly walked past him.

Garath laughed to himself as he watched the Flayer struggle with every step, doing his damnedest to avoid tipping over. His oversized head and bulbous belly made the demon somewhat top heavy. His gnarled, knobby legs didn't look like they should be able to support his weight. Garath didn't think he'd ever actually seen Handsome walk, now that he thought about it. Why would he? The demon could fly. After struggling through a few teetering steps toward the gnolls, Handsome disappeared into the fog.

Garath waited longer than he probably needed to for the demon to get into position, but after watching Handsome's pitiful attempt at ground travel, he figured it was better to err on the side of caution.

*Handsome, are you in position?*

*Yes.*

Garath's heart rate increased with excitement and his lust for power swelled. Even after the apocalypse, and all the combat he'd sought out since, the butterflies in his stomach never failed to get him going just before a fight. He was about to issue the command for Handsome, then a factor he'd failed to consider became clear.

The enemies inside the towers watched from an elevated position, so they had an increased line of sight. The exclusion of such a key factor in his planning became immediately, painfully, obvious.

Not painfully for Garath, thank the gods. The bolt aimed in his direction came up just short of its mark. It was a good thing too, because Garath hadn't seen or heard it coming until he was looking at its shaft sticking out of the ground. Handsome was not as lucky. The little demon didn't have any gods to curse when a crossbow bolt struck him in the chest.