The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 157: I’m just Blake

Blake entered the 'Maker Hall' with careful steps, inspecting his surroundings. There were busts of bearded men, more portraits and little stacks of coins, all squished under a low ceiling with plain, stone walls. It made Blake feel like he was in some dwarven billionaire’s panic room.

But there was also an open entrance that led to something larger, and Blake poked his head inside to see a series of colored 'lanes' leading to more rooms. He smiled, remembering Mason's description of the worm dungeon where he got his prestige class. Apparently it was time for another upgrade.

Except Mason also said his prestige class had been basically tailored to suit him, whether based on powers or behavior so far in the game. For some reason this gave Blake pause, like he was going down a path he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to go down. He wasn't sure why it felt that way, but what he knew more than anything was that before he walked in and made it official, he wanted to speak with his brother.

Dream Walk had worked in the dungeon before. He assumed it would work in a dungeon within a dungeon. Of course he had absolutely no idea what time it was, and since Mason seemed to sleep less and less these days the chances weren't exactly fantastic. But things seemed safe enough, and he tried to hope Ilya wasn't in some terrible situation where every second counted. If that was the case, roboGod would have given him some kind of timer, right?

He slumped down against a wall and Meditated, preparing himself mentally to Dreamwalk and find Mason.

As usual, his perception shifted to a huge, dark canvas full of lights. He flew through it, searching for anyone whose mind he'd touched. Fortunately, it looked like it must be night, because practically everyone was asleep. He almost sighed in relief when he found Mason. Afraid his brother might wake at any moment, Blake focused on the glowing dot and dove straight in.

Mason was apparently deeply asleep. Even his unconscious mind was dark and warm, a sort of smoky cave where Blake found him sitting staring into a fire.

"Well there's a sight for sore eyes." Blake grinned. "Brother you look more like Conan the Barbarian every time I see you."

Mason turned, and his green eyes roamed Blake for a moment as if without recognition. Then he leapt to his feet and rushed forward.

"Holy shit, is it really you? Say something I'd never think of."

"Um. Firefly was the greatest sci-fi tv show ever made. Followed by Farscape. Oh shit I forgot about Battlestar, now I’m not sure if I’m honest."

"Thank Christ.” Mason tried to grab his arms but couldn’t. “Are you alright? I mean, are you still in that dungeon? Is there any way we can come get you? Or make it easier from the outside?"

Blake laughed and took a seat by the fire. "Deep breaths, brother. I can actually feel the heat. By God that's good."

Mason did as he was told then sat opposite, looking around the cave. "I’m not actually sleeping. I’m in a tree…in some kind of teleported world…whatever, it’s not important. No clue why we're in here."

"Uh huh.” Blake raised a brow. “Let's not worry about Freud right now. I'm…doing well enough. More or less leveling up until I can deal with this giant orc. Which is why I'm here—I've found a place like the one you told me about, a prestige class event of some kind. So I'll get that and probably an item right away."

Mason grinned. "Awesome. They seem crazy powerful so that's going to help a lot. What's the delay? What can I tell you?"

"I don't know." Blake frowned, not even sure what he wanted to ask. He shook his head, wanting distraction more than anything. "Tell me about the settlement? How are things?"

Mason smiled and did. He told him about the natural 'theme' and the various bonuses they'd gained from the Nymphs—the new buildings and all the new food and beautiful surroundings.

"We cleared another great tree, too," Mason said. "Found some new players. A caster, finally, though I'm not entirely sure I won't have to kill him one day. And I see why you complained constantly about the civilians. There's endless belly aching about nothing. Though the new settlement stuff has kept them happy."

Blake couldn't help but smile, and Mason eventually shifted uncomfortably.

"What?"

"Nothing. It just suits you."

"What does?"

"Leadership. I always knew it would, you know. If you'd just applied yourself a little."

"Yeah, yeah, shut up." Mason tossed a pebble into the fire, and obviously wanted to say something but didn't know how.

"Come on," Blake said. "Out with it. Whatever it is."

Mason shook his head and shrugged. "It's not important. All that matters is getting you out of that dungeon. I feel so damn helpless."

"That's because you are, brother. Which I think you have to learn to accept. Sometimes people have to save themselves. Now tell me what's on your mind because your discomfort makes me uncomfortable."

Mason stood and paced across the cave, clearly getting more agitated.

"I told you to lay off the mind control, didn't I? When you left I guess it...wore off."

Blake nodded, understanding the rest of the story without being told. "I see," he said. "They're glad I'm gone."

Mason looked at him with his strange, green eyes, then sat by the fire again. "They're not glad. They just..."

"Don't want me as Patron anymore."

Mason nodded, but seemed to relax when Blake understood. "You left me in a bloody mess. But I don't give a shit about that. I've made it clear, when you're free you're coming back. So whatever you want to do, that's what we'll do."

Blake smiled, feeling the usual cold center of his being warm as it always did for the rock that was Mason. "Yes you do," he said. "Give a shit. And that's why they want you."

A strange feeling struck him, then, a shiver of certainty that raced up his spine. He looked into the fire like he could see his own future, then snorted in surprise.

"I don't think I'm coming back," he said.

Mason just stared for a very long moment.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"No, it's alright," Blake said, fighting a laugh. "I'm something of a fool, aren't I?" He smiled and met Mason's eyes, no idea how to say what he wanted to say. How did you explain to someone they had become everything? That by being themselves they had saved you, a little orphan boy without anything or anyone in the world? "Mason, I...I've always needed you, more than you needed me. You know that, don't you?"

His brother's expression faded, his eyes staring hard. "You're scaring me now, Blake. Tell me what to do. Tell me how the fuck I can help you. There has to be a way."

Blake felt a tear threaten his eye but fought it. "You've already helped me. More than you'll ever know," he said, unable to face the warmth and concern in his brother's face. "It's time you stop worrying about me. Time for me to stop being so greedy and selfish. Other people need you now, too. Your girls. The settlement." Maybe the whole damn world, he didn’t say.

He stood and let his senses drift back to his profile and powers, readying to end the Dream Walk.

"Blake." Mason's voice was getting desperate now as he came closer. "You're wrong. You can't give up. We need you. I need you. You're Blake Nimitz God damnit, you can't give up."

"No," Blake said, smiling a little. "I'm just Blake. I think it's time I remembered that." He tried to put his hands on his brother's shoulders and sighed in frustration. "And I’m not giving up. I'll see you soon, moron," he whispered. "But keep them all safe, and don't wait. It might take me awhile."

"Wait," Mason said, putting his hand through Blake's like a ghost, clearly no idea what to say. "Keep Dream Walking at least. Let me know what the hell is happening."

Blake nodded like he would, then let the dream world fade, thinking it likely best if he didn't.

Goodbye, brother, he thought, severing that wonderful source of strength in his mind. I'm not going to see you again, he thought, not until I can stand without you. Not until I make you proud.

He had leaned on that crutch too long. He'd let the break in his mind and body linger and maybe atrophy the things he should have strengthened. But no more.

He had to stand on his own—to deserve his fortune and his many gifts. To become the man his brother had always pretended he was. He only hoped it wasn't too late.