Aggro Litrpg || Progression Fantasy

After half an hour of making sure there were no more shadow nasties about, I poked my head around the door of the Medical Hut to check on Lia, but she was still lying in stasis. She looked no better and no worse than she had when I'd put her in there. That was something, I guessed.

After that, I mooched around for a bit. I'd like to make things sound a bit more heroic, but there's no more accurate word for it. I loitered, lingered and puttered about like a man pretending to have things to do. The two Shadowborn labourers continued methodically hammering away at the Village Hall's skeletal frame, while the newest member of our little undead trio hacked away at a fallen log with the patience of someone who didn't understand the concept of union rights.

And I just… watched. Let my brain idle. For a minute there, it felt almost peaceful. A strange, uncanny kind of peace, like being the only person awake during a power cut. There were no alarms. No screaming. Just the sound of slow work and falling rain. Honestly? I could've gotten used to it. Bit of quiet, bit of 'me' time. A chance to think without dodging anyone trying to kill me.

Which, of course, meant it was time for that to end.

> [System Alert: Visitor Approaching]

> Faction: Empire

> Designation: Messenger

> Status: Non-Hostile | Diplomatic Clearance Granted

Oh, good.

I read the message again just to be sure. Then again, because part of me hoped it had changed. It hadn't. Somewhere in the distance, I imagined the Law of Sod high-fiving Murphy's Law in celebration.

"I made that happen, didn't I?" I said mostly to the rain. "Me and my big mouth."

Almost as if summoned by my sarcasm, at the edge of my minimap, a flashing blue dot appeared, moving at a real speed to the edge of the village, where it parted through the treeline with a purposeful stride. The figure's silhouette was sharp and deliberate. I guessed this was someone who had made a career out of making an entrance. They wore deep charcoal leathers with a long overcoat cut to emphasise presence rather than practicality. Across their chest was, presumably, the symbol of the Empire. It was some kind of snarling skull wrapped in the coils of a single, red-eyed serpent. Tasteful.

I didn't make any response. Not out of bravery, but more because I wasn't entirely sure what the correct protocol was when an official envoy from a hostile Empire rocks up at your haunted mud patch of a village. Offer tea? Summon the villagers to bring pitchforks and flaming torches? Wait—no, I was the villagers. Damn it.

The figure stepped closer. They had no weapon drawn yet, but that didn't mean all that much, really. I figured someone sent from the Empire didn't really need to draw steel to be dangerous. Their boots made almost no sound on the damp ground, which either meant training, magic, or they were just incredibly committed to the whole ominous stranger aesthetic.

And then, just to prove they were the business, when they reached the edge of the clearing, they stopped, precisely at the five-metre mark from the Well. Right at the edge of my Aura's boundary. I knew that distance well by now. So did they, apparently. I kind of missed it when people didn't automatically know everything there was to know about me. Somewhere on Earth, I was sure I felt Griff's eyes roll.

A moment passed. And then another.

"Hello?" I said, eventually. "Welcome to the... Well of Slightly Improved But Still Quite Modest Living?"

They didn't laugh. Not that I'd expected them to. Slowly, they reached up and unfastened the helmet strap beneath their chin. And then paused.

Something tugged at my memory. The shape of the jawline. The tilt of the head. Familiar, but wrong enough to trip me up. Every time I tried to lock it down, it slid sideways like a dream you can't grab hold of. Then they pulled the helmet off, and things started to fall a bit more into place.

Because I knew that face, didn't I? Heart-shaped. Iron-grey eyes with a reflexive upward flick at the corners. This was the woman from the train. Katya. The one who'd flirted with me in the station carpark. Laughed at all the right moments, leaned too close and then obviously, tracked me home and shot me twice in the chest.

"Well, well," I said."If it isn't my favourite brief encounter turned domestic terrorist."

"Elijah," she said. "You're looking pretty good. Especially considering the whole... dying and coming back thing. Not anyone could pull that off."

"Yeah, well. You really ruined my favourite coat," I said, casually shifting the morningstar from shoulder to ground. She didn't appear to have any weapons, but I wasn't underestimating her again. Once bitten and all that."And you were far too pretty to be carrying a silenced sidearm."

"Aw," she said. "Thanks. In the spirit of fresh starts, I should note you were kind of cute, back then, too."

"Back then?"

She tilted her head, sizing me up. "Yeah. There's something off about you now. I can't quite put my finger on it."

"That will probably be the -1 in Charisma," I said."Turns out sacrificing pieces of your soul to build haunted villages has some downsides. Tell you what, though, if you come a few steps closer, I reckon you'll find me all sorts of interesting. Probably will focus you on me wonderfully."

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"Yeah. So I was told. I reckon I'll stay just where I am, to be honest."

There was a beat of quiet. Considering she'd murdered me not that long ago, this wasn't as awkward as it should have been. But the atmosphere was charged. Like what happened between two people when one of them had already done the worst possible thing to the other, and neither of them could decide if it was water under the bridge or just the water rising.

"You're not here to finish the job, I take it?" I asked.

"Not unless someone wants to pay me to do it again," she said, flicking rain off her gloves like blood that hadn't quite dried. "Especially as it didn't appear to stick the first time. No, I've been passed Lia Jorgensdottir's marker. I'm here to ensure her debt's cleared or her family's cleared out. Apparently, if the Elders of Sablewyn have to collect and kill her dad, they want someone on hand to stop Lia taking exception."

"Nice work if you can get it," I said.

"Don't take me wrong, it's been a headspin, but I'm adjusting."

"You're adjusting," I said. "To being portalled into a parallel world with magic, levels, and Classes, and you're just rolling with it?"

"What? Should I have had a breakdown?" she said. "Screamed into the dirt for a bit? Cried about the loss of all my ever-so-close families and friends. You were in the life. You know how it goes. Adapt and move on. What else is there to it?"

"I mean, a little existential crisis would've been comforting. Maybe think about things for a bit before throwing in with the Empire?"

"So sorry to disappoint you, random man I've spent less than an hour's worth of time with." Katya glanced past me toward the Medical Hut, the Well, and the Village Hall construction still half-skinned in soaked lumber. "Mind you, you can talk about taking a beat. Warden. Iron Provocateur. Level 3. You're doing pretty well for a corpse."

"Apparently, I have the blood for it. Family connections. You know how it is."

"I don't, actually. Some of us have to work for a living without anyone to have our backs. I don't know how it worked out for you, but I manifested in the middle of an Empire garrison. Dead centre of their training compound. No context, no warning and still very much dressed for Earth."

"At which point I'm sure you made friends and influenced people."

"Eight dead before I ran out of bullets," she said, ticking them off casually. "Three more unconscious. One lieutenant skewered trying to grapple me."

"And the rest?"

"Someone with rank showed up. Watched me work. Decided I was wasted as a stain on a wall. Offered me a contract. Said I was 'resource-aligned' with high lateral utility."

"So you got recruited?"

"Bought. Empire pays well. Gave me range. Authority. And all my old kit, translated into fun new names—Shadowstep, Quickdraw, Ghost Veins. Same tricks, better packaging. I'm a classic Assassin, if you're interested."

"Fantastic," I said. "So you're more deadly, better paid, and technically on the same side as me now?"

"For now. But if Lia Jorgensdottir can't pay her debts. I'll be about to make sure nothing gets out of hand."

"Of course you will."

"You know," Katha said, "you're still sort of cute. But there's something off. Like you're iron under too much pressure."

"System says I'm unstable."

"Mm. You smell it. Even now. Like the Veil licked you and left a stain."

I didn't argue. Her instincts were probably right.

"So," she said, shifting tone, "forty-two hours left. Lia needs to present to the Elders proof the Alchemist's dead, or policy will kick in."

"Big on policy, I hear, the Empire."

"They do seem to like their clean endings."

Sensing the conversation was coming to an end, I threw out a question that had been bothering me. "I don't suppose you feel like telling me who hired you? Back on Earth?"

"Nope. Even across realms, I have my ethics."

"Fair enough." I hadn't really been expecting her to share. "So what, now you're just... what? Delivering messages? Checking timers?"

"Someone has to keep the gears turning," she said. "I like gears."

The silence that followed wasn't hostile. Just the sort that drifts in when all the bullets are spent and the noise has faded.

"You're doing some good work. Building this place up," she said finally, glancing at the rising Hall and the shadow-labourers dragging wood. "It's not awful."

"High praise."

She took a step forward and lowered her voice. "Just so you know, there's a lot of chatter on the Empire side. About Margaret Meddings' boy, standing the line. Holding the breach."

"Is that what I'm doing?"

"It sounds like that's what you're trying to do. That's what counts. Or so I've heard."

"You think I should walk away?"

"Could. Burn the Well. Let the next idiot carry it."

"I'm not built that way."

"No," she said. "You're not. Okay. Well, speaking of which, I've given you the first message. So, here's the second." She reached into her coat and produced a scroll sealed in the same bone-white wax as her insignia. "The Empire would like you to know that they recognise your recent village. It remains unnamed, correct?"

I nodded.

"The Emperor extends protection," she continued. "I am told that you should be delighted to accept. In return, you will receive supplies, reinforcements and Imperial support in your battle against the shadows. All you must do is pledge your village in the Emperor's name."

"How generous. Just out of curiosity, what happens if I say no?"

Katya gave a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "You have enemies, Eli. And I don't just mean the shadows. I am told that Rebels are approaching and they will not be . . . kind when they arrive. However, the Empire can shield you from their assaults. Decline the offer, though, and I suspect that the village will not last long with both the Empire and the Rebels against you."

Katya pulled her helmet back on in a single, practised motion. "So, that's both my messages delivered. Sign the scroll, Elijah. You've have enough problems. Forty-two hours until I come and collect on Lia," she repeated. "Don't be late. I'd hate to kill you twice."

Then she was gone, back into the trees, the rain taking her place.

When she left, another timer appeared in my HUD. 'Accept the Emperor's Offer' Y/N?'

I opened the scroll. The deal was clear. Support from the Empire, if I pledged everything to them. No catch, no small print—just naked coercion dressed up in formality. It would, apparently, set my reputation with Empire to 'Neutral' but, in turn, would move me from 'Hostile' to 'Belligerent' with the Rebellion. Which didn't sound great.

So, align with the Empire and paint a target for the Rebellion. Reject them and get wiped out.

The countdown ticked lower. The rain didn't stop. And I still had to save a girl in a hut and stop a city from drowning her father.

Hell of a Monday.