Magus: A Supernatural LitRPG Saga (Apocosmos Book 2) Dimitrios Gkirgkiris (good english books to read .txt) 📖

the world. Everyone hates the dominus, yet everyone's still here. And as far as I know, the last revolution was drenched in the blood of slaves. Here you are, a perfect stranger, eager to throw more lives into the crucible with the promise of liberty."

"Revolutions require sacrifices, but what previous attempts lacked was self-sacrifice. The people yearn for their freedom but they would not sacrifice themselves so that others would be able to join their families. They want to get out but aren't ready to do what needs to be done."

"Which is what exactly?" the berserker asked.

"Giving their life to the cause," the voice replied. "They do not breathe as one. They are individuals and they want to fulfill their own needs. They want to get out of this place for themselves, but what they need to do is want to get out as a single unit."

"If this is some kind of cult mass-suicide pep talk, I would advise you to leave before I bring the tree down along with you," Alexander threatened, touching the hilts of his swords. "I'm not dying to further someone else's goal."

"I am not asking you to die. I am asking you to continue being the flame that will forge the greatsword to strike the dominus dead. Your story is bringing the slaves together."

"I don't think my story is having the effect you think," Alexander said, voicing his doubts. "They're interested but it doesn't mean they will throw themselves in harm's way."

"On the contrary. You coming here was the spark the slaves needed. You do not see it, but people have started talking to each other. Asking questions. Simple ones. The important ones. Like, 'Where do you come from?' or 'Is there someone waiting for you?' and 'Do you have any children?'. The things that, once shared, strengthen bonds between individuals."

"And you think that's going to be enough?"

"I know it will be. The ripple effect of your story is greater than you can imagine and pretty soon, the ripples are going to turn into waves that will crash on the gates of the oppressors."

"Stories do not win revolutions," Alexander remarked. "Blood and death win them."

"And there shall be plenty of that," the voice in his head agreed. "But first your ranks need to be strengthened."

"What's the plan?" Alexander asked determinedly.

"There are hundreds of nameless slaves taking care of mundane tasks in the camp," the voice explained. "Nobody pays them any heed, but they hold key positions in the ludus. As long as they are level zero, they will serve their master without question."

"You want us to level them up?" Alexander asked.

"It will need to be done with extreme care. There are many monsters kept locked up throughout the slave camp. The people who know of the uprising will each form a party with another eight nameless and take down a low-level monster. Once the nameless gain their levels back, their wits too will return. They will act as our eyes and ears in the ludus. They will give you access to weapons and armor, and most importantly access to places you should not be in."

Alexander shook his head. "The keepers of the ludus, the dominus's lackeys, will notice that these people are no longer level zero and the whole plan will be foiled immediately."

"Let me worry about that, berserker. Rest assured that anyone who lays eyes upon the awakened nameless will continue to see them as mindless level zero servants."

"When is this operation going to take place?"

"Soon enough," the man replied telepathically. "You will be informed."

"I see." Alexander turned to leave but stopped, his back still to the man. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Asking doesn't guarantee an answer."

"That is fine."

"In that case, please proceed with your question."

"Are they okay? My friends?" he asked. He closed his eyes, dreading the answer he might receive.

"Ah, that is a tricky question... you know it is in my best interests to give you good news, so that you do your best to perhaps meet them again one day."

"If you're not going to tell me the truth, then tell me nothing at all," Alexander retorted, almost too quietly to be heard.

"They are not doing well," the voice said eventually. "But they are doing their best."

"That's the truth then?" Alexander asked, but got no reply.

When he turned back, all he could see in the place where the dark figure had been standing were crooked branches, their broad leaves perfectly still. There was no way to know if he could trust what he'd been told, but even this answer was better than none at all.

The berserker took the path back to the bonfire and his squad, replaying the strange conversation he just had. The closer he got to the warm light of the fire, the more it seemed like the meeting was part of a very vivid dream. By the time he laid his head on his makeshift bed, he had almost forgotten the details of it, save for what he had to do--be ready to level up the nameless and continue with his story.

In this gods-forsaken place, there were no suns to mark the passing of days and sleep was never regular enough to be a reliable marker of time. Not that it mattered to any of the slaves. It would be just another waking hour where they would need to fight for their lives.

Alexander woke up to screams of agony and the first thing he did was unsheathe his swords as he launched himself up.

"Ease your body, human," Gardun, the orc monk, said as she took a bite of a stale loaf of bread. "They're bringing in the wounded from the latest matches."

"Don't they ever stop?" he asked, slipping his swords back into their scabbards.

"Normally, they don't," the elf shadow strider replied in turn, "but they'll take a break for the big tournament."

A handful of people who were passing by had now taken their place around the fire, a couple of them feeding it with more logs.