About Wizard's Tower:
The humans call me Nemon Fargus. They call me wizard, and [Elementalist] and [Enchanter]. They call me teacher. They call me adventurer.
But I don't care. Not anymore.
For
more than 150 years I've served the Kingdom of Sena. Through four Kings
and a Queen. Two wars and a rebellion. I've founded and taught at a
magic school. I've fought against beast waves and dungeon breaks.
But
now? Now, the one close friend I had left has passed. So, I'm done with
their politics and their economics. The short and busy lives of humans
are more burden than benefit on the weary soul of this half-elf.
Now,
I'm looking for a refuge, a place that can well and truly be my own.
Away from the growing cities and the bustling markets, away from the
pointless wars, away from the eager students and the arrogant
adventurers.
Experience the start of a LitRPG Series from Gregory Allanther, the bestselling author of An Old Man's Journey.
About the series: Immerse yourself in a LitRPG that takes place in a High Fantasy world. Fans of Skills, Levels, Tiers, progression, magic, base-building adventure, GameLit, and mystery will find all the things they love plus plenty more. Dangers lurk around every corner, and even an old, powerful wizard like Nemon Fargus doesn’t always have the answers.
Excerpt:
"Ram!" I cried out, a warning I knew already to be too late.
The world seemed to still as the bladed tail of the [Metal Drake] sheared through the dwarf. The top half of his body squelched and fell, leaving behind entrails and pools of blood. Round little pieces of the finely crafted ringmail chimed as they hit the ground and rolled away. The shock paused me just a moment before the anger took hold. With a desperate cry, I unleashed one of my most powerful spells.
"[High Tempest!]" I cried. My voice broke, and the illusion I wore of a hunched old man flickered.
Wind whipped through the grand hall and burst around the enormous gray columns that lined the platform in the middle of the room. Giant, heavy chains attached between the columns like a spider’s web rattled and shook. The tar pits on either side began to swell with waves in a splatter. In the ceiling above, clouds formed. They blocked the mural of an ancient city. Lightning flashed.
Nika, the [Paladin], shouted something, but her words were lost in the wind. From the corner of my eye, I saw her armored figure kneel down behind her shield. Erik, our rogue-class, dove behind her.
But my attention was not on them. No, it was on the 4th Tier [Metal Drake] that clung fiercely to one of the huge iron chains and roared back at me. With a tilt of my staff, I pointed toward the monster and focused it as the target of my spellcraft. In that instant, lightning struck. One bolt, followed by the second. Three, four, and five struck all at once. The arcs of lightning pummeled the drake and then jumped back and forth along the chain it had latched on to. Its roar shifted from one of challenge and anger to a shriek of pain, but I didn’t care. My anger was absolute.
Ram was my oldest friend. As a half-elf, that meant a lot. Together, we drank, we laughed, we adventured, we lived. We lived while the humans around us became frail with age. This dungeon, one we’d finished before, was to be the last for a while. He’d had two classes, [Berserker] and [Armorsmith]. His son, Little Ram, had recently started to walk and talk, and he needed to be there. A few more gold for the coffers and a few more levels for the vitality, we’d agreed before we set out.
I snarled. What good were gold and levels to the dead? Damn this adventure. Damn this dungeon. Damn this drake!
With a cry, I unleashed it all. The [Tempest] spell should have lasted an afternoon’s worth of time unleashing bolts of lightning and cyclones of wind every few minutes, but I forced mana through its framework. For the price of half its power, I made it strike all at once. Chains swung and snapped, no longer able to hold against the forces of wind. Metal links and bolts flew through the air. Tar, hot and sticky, climbed funnels of wind that lashed out in a spray of sizzling drops. Cracks formed in the columns and the room itself shook. The drake fell to the ground, its burnt wings spread in a parody of flight until it landed on its side. The clanging thump could just barely be heard over the wailing wind.
I watched as it raised its head and stared at me. The shiny metal of its scales reflected the storm above like a mirror. I took one hand from my staff and reached forward as if to grasp the monster. Its own claws stretched and dug into the stone platform as though it intended to crawl its way to me. I squeezed that outstretched hand into a fist and watched as the final force of my tempest spell landed on the beast.
I ignored the messages I received that told me of its defeat. I ignored the crackling sounds of pillars as they broke. I ignored the noxious plumes from burning tar. I ignored the smoking and steaming remains of the foe. My eyes were fixed on the body of my friend. Inside, I felt only numbness and shock.
