The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Mason ran face first into the side of the great tree as his Wyrdwalk failed. An error message popped up about ‘fey plane currently unavailable’. He clenched his teeth and held back the growl, pretty sure he could hear roboGod’s smile.

Apparently he’d have to do this old school. He pulled up his map of the world with Wayfinder, Shapeshifting mid-air as he leapt off the top of the tree city. Fortunately, with some creative weight manipulation, and a spell or two to propel himself with wind, he could fly half as fast as a jet.

He called to Shawk and his kin as he flew, his own voice so loud if he wanted he winced. The giant eagles shrieked and took to the air from the nearby mountain. The closest ‘battle site’ marked on his map was maybe twenty miles away. He propelled himself with several flaps of his growing wings, using his boots expertly now to ride the edge of physics to ridiculous speed.

The earth flew past in a blur, the ground passing below like he was looking down from the window of a passenger plane. Even with all his toughness, he had to squint at the wind resistance until Transformation figured out on a clear eye-lid.

The world was changing. He saw strange terrain rising out of the ground—mountains of red stone, glowing pits, a field of fire. Rivers were flickering like an old TV, as if the water couldn’t decide what substance it was supposed to be. But his eyes were soon pulled to his target.

An army of undead was already rising out of the ground. When he turned on his Mark and scanned, he soon saw a giant creature made of decaying flesh glowing with way too much planar aura.

There was a planar lord down there hidden just below the soil.

He dove without hesitation, straight at his target, trying to pick up even more speed. The little bit of dirt wouldn’t stop him. He channeled Strength of Stone as he spread his Honor Blades and sword-Claws, preparing to strike the thing with four sharp points and taloned feet in a devastating attack.

The thing didn’t register any threat or move at all. As the world rushed towards him, Mason’s still partially human brain was screaming in terror. Sometimes it forgot they weren’t really human anymore. He drowned in out with a bestial scream of his own, somewhere between a bear’s roar and an eagle’s shriek. Then he struck.

Dirt exploded. He sunk straight in, smashing into the giant zombie-lord like a human bunker buster. He plunged straight into its body, the force still propelling him down into a world of dead flesh and exploding goo.

His legs flared with pain and maybe cracked the bone. But it didn’t slow him down. As his momentum ended he’d already turned his swords to claw form and started digging through his enemy.

The planar lord’s back burst with more than just disgusting goo. Undead energy released in some kind of aura around it, enveloping Mason instantly and spreading far beyond. Apex Predator pinged the option to turn undead, but he ignored it. Let the bastard try and drain his life, or whatever the fuck it was doing, he decided. They’d find out who went down first.

It rose and literally carried him inside its body, spraying dirt with a horrible roar as it lumbered to its feet. He kept slashing, looking for a vulnerable core. As it moved and spun he literally cut himself out of the soft, disgusting flesh, slopping to the ground in a shower of dead organs and rotting blood.

Apparently it was a zombie…Frankenstein cyclops. Or something. Composed of an impossible to determine number of different creatures. It had one eye, or at least a glowing purple circle that looked like an eye—four ‘main arms’, and about a hundred tiny ones that writhed like they didn’t know they’d been cut off something else. Also it had…at least five legs. Maybe three of which looked usable.

He charged at one to cut it off.

The undead army was stirring now. Creatures large and small were lumbering in his path, trying to block him with a wall of flesh. It went about as well as anyone could expect. Which was to say, not well at all. Mason trampled, slashed, and jumped over the planar lord’s pathetic linebackers, then got to work on the closest leg.

He knew the day would be long, so he had no intention of using much mana unless it was needed, or ultra effective. It was buffs only, and Ginsu efficiency as he hacked or shot the bastards apart at a nice, leisurely…

The zombie’s leg came off. Mason twisted and went for another, forming his longer sword for more cutting power. He cycled through his strikes, ignoring or bashing away any undead interference as he easily avoided (or cut open) the planar lord’s clumsy arm attacks.

The aura was…a thing. A small thing. Felt like it was supposed to drain his strength. Too bad it wasn’t out-pacing his Duality and Transformation. In fact he was pretty sure it was giving his skin a nice, leathery quality to go with his increasing bear fur and layer of fat. At least anywhere there wasn’t Eve’s armor or near-invulnerable Nature’s Sleeve.

But he imagined if there was a team of weaker melee players it would have fucked them right up.

His surprise attack was obviously a problem. The planar lord couldn’t stop him, and his small army of undead were either confused or stumbling over each other trying to attack. Mason took off a second leg, and the zombie-cyclops went down with a really dumb expression.

The thing stared at him, glowing eye spinning up with power, obviously for some kind of shot.

Mason jumped over the creature and put its own body in the way. He kicked and cut apart anything that tried to interfere, casually slicing apart the big giant from behind.

In less than a minute, he took its head. The glowing eye faded.

The undead army around him collapsed back to plain old dead. An event window popped up on his profile.

[Second Doom personal event score: 53. Post-game rewards will be offered at the end of the event. Even if the world is destroyed, a high score may still allow you individual survival. Keep it up!]

He read it and sneered at his alien captor with every fiber of his being. As if he’d let the world burn and save himself. Was that it? Was it trying to see if humanity’s greatest defenders might abandon the others to save themselves? He wondered who might take a deal like that, but tried not to think about it.

Instead he stared at the field of dead enemies, and wiped some zombie goo off his chin. A few seconds later he heard a shriek. A handful of very annoyed sounding eagles were circling the battlefield. Shawk screeched, and the small air force circled back towards Nassau. But Mason willed them to stay with him through his bond.

They weren’t done yet. He pulled up his Wayfinder for the next location, a quick glance at the two hour timer he’d started when the event began. It had been less half an hour. If roboGod actually attacked when it said it would, he might be able to clear one, maybe two more targets. It was worth a try.

He willed the eagles towards the next spot on his map, then leapt back into the air.

* * *

Blake smiled politely as the orc council finished their meeting. The towers were officially going to war. It couldn’t have gone much better.

Between Lord Halvar’s rise, and the small army of new Soulguards and a few other ‘soul’ affinity classes springing up all over the clans, they were plenty motivated to destroy demons. A few words about prophecy and the end of the world, plus the well-timed planar aura in the air from the event…and that was that.

They still had to decide who’d lead what, and what forces they’d take and exactly where and when they’d use them. But once they’d agreed to help, a new objective floated to every orc’s eyes like words directly from their tribal gods. They all stood there glazed and staring with open mouthed fervor. Blake popped into one of their heads to take a look.

[Divine Objective: Defend the nearby human controlled Worldstone until tomorrow’s dawn. Reward: Individual rewards based on contribution, and the towers will be spared from the incoming doom.]

The tower lords all exchanged looks, their concerns and questions vanishing behind the system-unifying marching orders of divine command. Blake couldn’t help but feel a stab of self-satisfied pride. He and roboGod, working together at last. A little closer to equals.

After all, it was entirely his scheming that had turned the tower orcs from enemy to ally. And here they were, ready to march off to battle against the planar invaders. To lay down their lives for mankind. Man and orc, side by side to the end. It was practically a feel-good movie!

So he’d had to kill a few. OK quite a few. And slowly corrupt the minds of others using Mental Influence and his Orc Whisperer title. Plus he’d killed their king. But they hadn’t liked him much. And whatever, now they were all friends! Family, even. It was water under the proverbial bridge.

He took Ilya back to her tower, hugging her and sharing a small moment of triumph. He promised her everything would be fine, and that she and the baby would be perfectly safe in the tower. It was probably true. At least as safe as anywhere else as the alien game-master broke some of his toys.

Next he went to the thus-far almost useless goblins. Their fat leader Chillik welcomed him like an old friend, smiling widely and promising a feast and expressing how pleased he was in the tower and wouldn’t he like to stay a bit and…

Blake’s constructs marched in behind him. Dozens of his manufactured monstrosities filed into the goblin’s sealed area until they’d backed against the walls in silence. A few defensive spells and powers sprouted, but for the most part the wizards understood their situation.

Most of Blake’s constructs were almost immune to magic. A fact he’d made sure they understood for months as he summoned more. And more.

“My friends,” he said, still smiling pleasantly. “You’ve been enjoying our hospitality without contribution for months. I can’t imagine the toll it must have been taking on your pride. But rejoice. Today is the day to repay all you owe. Gather your weapons, you’re all marching with the orcs to battle. Right now.”

The wizards of the Greenblood Order complained. And tried to bargain. And explained it was a goblin religious time and they couldn’t possibly, though they would otherwise love to.

But in the end, they had no choice. Blake and his constructs frog marched them down the white tower, level by level until they, their team of assassins, and small amount of warriors, had assembled at the foot of the tower.

He left his undead goblin assistant, Pliny, in charge at the bottom. The half mad, half genius engineer grinned at them through his spectacles, sitting atop a bull-sized, mechanical, walking robot made mostly of guns.

Blake clapped his hands. “Obey Chief Engineer Pliny as if he spoke with my voice. Go with the orcs. Make your ancestors proud. I’ll be with you when I can.”

Chillik scowled from his slave-carried palanquin, turning his thick neck as far as possible to look back in Blake’s direction. He looked equal parts afraid and outraged.

“You’re not coming with us?”

Blake just closed the tower door without a word, every part of his mind already moving on. He had done his duty and what he promised. He had marshaled all his resources in defense of Mason’s little tree house.

So he went to find Seul-ki. Because it was time to work on plan number two. And even he didn’t know which he’d choose in the end.