The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Mason channeled a Solar Destruction, and smiled. The small army of abyssals growing under a dark storm before him shrieked and ran. Turned out living beings of darkness weren’t big fans of the star god’s attention.

He stomped the runes above them, and enjoyed the anticipation before it hit. Dark clouds that kept growing out of nothing above blasted away again. The pillar of light lanced through, slamming into the ground with fire and force that radiated out in an explosion.

Dust and a wave of power rippled past him as he raised his bow. Loosing like a machine gun, he murdered any stragglers, lighting them up with his Ranger’s Mark to shoot straight into the storm.

He hovered above the enemy army with reduced weight and gentle flaps of his wings, lit by flame and light, body flickering in the shadow. He ignored their pathetic spells and projectiles. He let the enemy’s attacks bounce off his body and armor. And he blasted them apart like a one man Air Force.

Any sign of another lord or champion? he messaged mid-murder.

Not yet, Haley messaged back. Carl says, and I quote, ‘keep doing what you’re doing’.

Music to his ears. He grinned and lay out another, large-sized Frozen Grasp as he shot, then drained a little more mana with his Rose Thorn Belt.

He wanted Transformation ticking anyway and small bits of damage meant nothing. The spell went off and ensnared a horde of smaller demons running for the gate. With the statistic boost from Eve’s armor, it wasn’t just a hold—the strength of the vines crushed the creatures quickly to death.

He swooped near another pack just to frighten them all back, still loosing arrows as he dove. A big, giant of a demon saw him coming and raised a club. He grabbed it mid-swing with a taloned foot, and ripped off the creature’s head with the other. He dropped it by the other demons without looking, and kept shooting.

Shawk was right. That was pretty fun.

He circled the army that seemed to grow no matter how many he killed, blasting the shit out of them, wondering how peace would ever possibly compare to this. And for his own amusement, he looked for another swoop target.

**

Becky turned her eyes away from Mason murdering the army to the south. Watching him shifted so far to bestial, and flying around with wings, well it was…still kind of crazy. But also comforting.

He was their monster, after all.

“We ready?”

Garet spun his swords and cracked his neck. He was in charge of their little crew after…after they lost Phuong. He’d stopped joking around and smiling. Even changed his voice a little, trying to make it deeper, like they hadn’t been around him the last few months, like he was some serious commander now. She rolled her eyes.

“Course we’re fuckin’ ready, Gare-bear. Now are we goin’, or what?”

Everyone not named Garet loved the nickname. She knew being in charge was tough and she should help him out. But she just couldn’t help herself. They didn’t need him to be so damn stiff and ‘in charge’ and…Phuong-like. They all knew the damn score.

He cleared his throat and pointed a sword towards the enemy.

Becky formed her Familiar Shield and gave John a wink. The big Scot linked them with his electric chain, and they jogged towards the gate to start mowing grass.

And boy, there was a lot of grass.

“Opening the gate! Good luck out there,” called the civilian leader in charge of this section of wall as he gave them a thumbs up. Becky shot him a wink, picking up the pace as she and John reached the opening doors.

The size of the army out there had them all stop to stare. Then Becky and John raced through, past the safety of the wall, straight into a waiting pack of undead.

Between her normally high stats, the Nexus defender titles, and her new stat link with Aegis, Becky was feeling ten feet tall. She and the big man hit the undead line like bulldozers, smashing through them as they raced out and zapped the others to shit.

The others followed. Garet, Seamus, Alex—the usual suspects plus a few new additions from the city. The scouts had identified summoners and some kind of undead-makers in the enemy ranks. Their job was to hunt them down, and ease some pressure off the ranged players and wall defences. If they spotted any harder targets they were supposed to signal Carl.

It was a good enough plan. At least it gave Becky the chance for some action. She tried desperately not to miss Phuong behind her shouting orders. Or to make fun of Garet when he did it instead. And she broke skeletal heads with her shield.

**

“Uh, sir? The um…orcs are here? At the east gate. They’re killing undead, looks like. Should we uh…let them in?”

Carl turned and stared at Phuong’s son, Hieu, and did his best not to say something mean. Just let an army of orcs inside the walls? The creatures that had nearly killed him, and everyone left in the world he loved? Creatures that ate people and enslaved each other?

He fought the urge to treat them like an enemy. Mason had said they’d be coming, that they were ‘supposed to be friendly’. And ‘if so, to use them appropriately’.

“I’ll use them fucking appropriately,” he muttered. “How about we send them straight at some planar lords and get them all killed.”

“Um, sir?”

“Please let them in,” Haley said beside him, giving the kid a smile. “I’ll meet their leaders below. Thank you.”

Carl turned and gave the official queen of his house a good, petulant glare.

“Remember your orders, please.” She had that ‘I’m speaking for Mason’ face he hated. “We need all the help we can get.”

“And if they betray us? For all we know, the system could give them some divine command to kill us all when it matters most.”

And I don’t trust Blake, he didn’t add. They’re still his creatures.

“It could do the same to some of us,” she said, softening her tone. “We need them, Carl.”

She wasn’t wrong about that. He glanced up at the growing number of flyers circling above the trees. They hadn’t made their move yet. He was guessing they were just waiting for more numbers, or for the players on the ground to be pressed harder and unable to help.

Fortunately, the Nexus had its own defences. And he’d kept some of the precious ranged players back to defend. Plus he had Demi. He looked over at the pregnant woman sitting on a lawn chair with her eyes closed and couldn’t help but grin. She sure didn’t look scary. But he knew better.

“I think it’s spore time, Demi. Start filling that canopy, if you please.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” she said, swallowing without moving.

Haley went to her, as did Mason’s elven brides, or whatever they were, all fussing with wet cloths and asking questions as Demi groaned and complained. But in a few minutes she was up and charging with so much nature power it literally made the platform glow with green light.

Carl went back to the communication beacon, and put the flyers from his mind.

Battle Update, he messaged Chinua and his people. Enemy army still building. No player losses. No breaches. No planar lords or champions. Next update in fifteen.

He looked at his own message and sat back in his chair. He glanced at the clock, thinking two hours down. Twenty-two to go. It wouldn’t be fun. But they’d fought for days in the Neutral Zone without much rest. They could handle it.

And they were doing just fine, all things considered. But he knew he and all the others had the luxury of a Mason killing the bastards in their thousands. Not to mention the mental luxury of knowing whatever horrible thing came, he’d be the first to charge.

The East had no such luxury. Whatever terrible thing came at them, even if they called for help, they still had to try and deal with it alone first. He hoped they were doing alright. He stared at the screen, and waited for an update.

**

“Update from the west, sir,” shouted Chinua’s civilian messenger, hunkered down behind the ranged players in the back.

He was with his huge Combat and Command team, sallying out into the enemy to strike at the planar lord. The scouts had determined the more powerful planars were summoning more of the enemy the longer they were untouched. If they just sat there behind their walls, they’d be fighting more and more of the creatures with no change in their situation. They had to attack, as well as defend.

And with Blake and his ‘new’ constructs seemingly holding off an entire side of the city, he decided they could handle one lord. It was worth the possibility of losses to figure out their capabilities. If they couldn’t handle this, they were in serious trouble.

“Wait for the update until we’ve engaged the lord. If it’s going poorly, tell them. Any requests for help from the other city wall sectors?” The scout’s eyes glazed, then he shook his head. Chinua gestured to his team. “Then we push. Assault positions! On me!”

His team of a hundred players formed into something like a cavalry wedge—tanks at the tip, melee on the edged sides, the center filled with ranged, support, and a cluster of useful civilians, reserve tanks, and more melee. Together they would cut through the enemy like an arrow, and bring down that lord.

“Give me a wind, Julio. And keep your passive around the tanks at the front.”

The support nodded and activated his incredible ability—good even with a small team. But with a cluster of players this size, affecting so many people, it was ridiculous. And it would keep Chinua moving faster, and regenerate his mana. Though he used it slowly anyway with his low cost powers. He wasn’t built for the quick duels and fights that had taken up most of the game. He was built for this. Built for war.

He spun up his two layers of arcane shielding, charging a javelin with a combined burst of elemental power. He was the tip of the spear, and they would move at his speed.

Even boosted it wasn’t much more than a walk. So it definitely wasn’t a ‘cavalry’ charge so much as some ancient legion of heavy infantry. His command team shuffled to war like a Greek phalanx.

Chinua marched away from the safety of the wall and the ranged defenders above. The undead didn’t hesitate. Moaning and howling hordes of zombies and skeletons came for them, no concern for their own bodies as they charged against the formation.

Chinua met the charge without fear. His powers were slow and limited for a reason—some version of ‘balance’ from the system. In a frontal attack, he was all but unstoppable.

His first throw struck and splintered with lightning, arcing through his enemy and dropping them where they stood. He slammed his foot for a Shatter, and smashed another group apart. None actually reached him.

Undead swarmed the sides of his phalanx, and died. The fifty-odd melee players hacked and stabbed, smashed and blasted the enemy apart in good order. Chinua kept the pace, always moving forward. He threw a spear every few seconds, Shattered on cooldown, and slammed anything that managed to get close away with a Charged Blast from his shield.

His mana didn’t budge. With Julio’s aura, he could do this all day. His heart was moving in a steady rhythm, his blood up as the familiar rush of battle came. He’d once told Mason there were men who would always seek the next fight, the next war. That after combat nothing felt the same. He knew all too well.

“Forward!” he growled to the soldiers behind him, blasting another pack of zombies off their feet. He stared ahead at the planar lord looming above the others—a skeletal giant draped in what looked like a robe. Some kind of giant necromancer, or so said his scouts.

Dangerous, no doubt. But Chinua’s team had answers for that, too. He’d brought everything he could need to solve any problem, huddled behind the shield of his players. They’d bring the creature down, form a square, and march right back to the city.

And just let the bastards try and stop us.