The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 165: What could possibly go wrong

Blake mostly hid until he heard the spider's blood curdling shriek. Then he stepped to the edge of the platform and watched as his constructs dove at the thing like sparrows fighting a house cat.

The spider was out of 'hell' now, climbing the edge of the stone trough that carried the boiling blood, feline head staring up as it snarled. Blake watched his Mental Partition flaring with commands, and tried to keep up and make sure they were working. His Psionic Constructs went first, just as intended.

They had slightly more control over their flight and steadied themselves near the demon, raking with their claws from just overhead. The creature turned and waved two arms before spitting maybe poison or acid from its spider mandibles. The green goo struck the constructs and dripped off with nothing more than a little steam.

Then the Arcanes swept by and smashed the demon with fly-by strikes, their rock-like fists making satisfying crunching sounds as they connected with carapace. The third one knocked the demon sideways, and it sort of curled its legs just like a regular spider might as it fell. Except this one fell into the boiling blood.

Again it shrieked and clawed, trying to grasp something to pull itself out of the 'river'. But it soon stopped, and dipped beneath the surface.

[Planar Entity: Lesser Devil Spider slain. Experience awarded.]

"Well done!" Blake shouted, very encouraged by the display. He tried not to think about the title of ‘lesser’ spider for that thing, trying not to imagine what a ‘greater’ might look like.

Anyway, nothing had gone wrong, so that was something. Of course it meant the spider hadn't tested half or so of his prepared commands, but at least the theory of attack was proved. The trick of course was that the main source of damage he had was sustained attack from the Arcane constructs—a kind of melting touch that needed a little time to do its work, not a quick smash.

If whatever this demon was wouldn't stay still long enough and always fought in the air, it may very well be his constructs couldn't use it. But he had a plan for that, at least—a command to tell them to 'stick' and hang on until they or their target was destroyed. He supposed he'd just have to wait and see.

"This way," he said, mostly to himself, looking down the flow of blood into another corridor that looked more like a sewer. "Deeper and deeper into the demonic fortress," he said with less enthusiasm. "What could possibly go wrong."

On the other hand, he was still him. Just a harder working, keen-eyed, upgraded him! Blake expected that would make him even more unstoppable.

* * *

Ilya was getting very tired of dried vole, mushrooms, and peanuts. She chewed mechanically from her barrel lid, then washed herself with some of the water. The demon usually watched her do this and smiled his demented smile, but after gaining her Oracle class he had been blissfully absent. Wherever he’d gone, on the other hand, was somewhat concerning.

If he went to fight Blake somewhere else, there wasn't a damn thing Ilya could do about it. Would she even know if he'd been killed? The thought was sobering, and she expected whatever the power of this place that had put her in her cage may very well stop protecting her if Blake died. This was a test for him more than her, but she would suffer the consequences just the same.

He'd told her it may take awhile, but the days passed slow and painfully. She tried to practice her spells, only ever using a little mana at a time in fear it may be just the moment Blake arrived. But he never did.

Hours and days drifted as she remembered her childhood, especially the few times she'd left the towers and seen the bright sun and the outside world. She'd remembered it was so cold and bright and loud she'd practically run back down into the earth screaming. But her brother had dared her, so she'd stayed out all afternoon and watched the clouds, her eyes eventually adjusting.

Then the demon would sweep by with violent flaps of his huge wings, only growling at Ilya as he passed and sending her leaping from her rest. But he was always alone, no sign of Blake, no sign of anything. Then she'd sit and stare at the dark cavern, or chew her dried food, or sip her water like it was sour brew.

"He's coming," she mumbled to herself, often not sure if she even believed he could defeat the demon. "He can," she reprimanded herself. "He's a wizard, sent by the gods. Who cares if he's human. He's been Chosen. He has a plan. He has great and terrible magical powers, enough to destroy this demon, and then Gromsh. He'll come."

True or not, it always made her feel a little better to say it out loud.

* * *

Blake was lost again, and pretty sure he was going to die of dehydration.

First of all, the boiling river of blood made things upsettingly hot. Secondly, after the open hell portal and the obvious corridors, things had opened up into a confusing labyrinth that Blake wasn't entirely convinced cared about physics.

"I swear I've passed this fucking hall three times," he said, not seeing any of the marks he'd made. He smacked his dry mouth and mostly failed to wet his dried lips. "Navi, can you do something here? Is there some kind of magic trap I'm not seeing?"

His familiar blinked and stared. "Beginning analysis, Master. Please direct me as you walk."

Blake cursed, knowing he should have done something different sooner. He'd just figured it was a big maze and if he followed it long enough he'd get out. But little demons that looked like pit bulls kept leaping out at him—to get instantly crushed by his minions—and yet he'd never stumbled on their corpses again.

So either things were disappearing and reappearing, the maze was basically endless, or there was some tomfuckery going on.

"Mirrored gate trap detected, Master," said Navi, and Blake practically sagged with relief, then frowned.

"Excellent. Now what the hell does that mean, and what do I do about it? Also why aren’t you just detecting such things all the time?"

"I don’t have infinite mana, Master. And it means you are being led down the same corridors over and over without knowing it. And I think they are resetting. You must find a way to disable the trap."

"Such as?"

Navi seemed to try to shrug with his face, and Blake sighed. No doubt there was something clever he was supposed to do. But he was getting tired and very thirsty and frankly he wasn't in a very good mood. He assigned the walls, floor and ceiling to different minions.

"Start smashing," he said as he formed the command. "Every step, hit the damn thing. Proceed."

The hall soon filled with the sounds of construction as his minions began clawing, punching and stomping their way through the maze. For a moment Blake just appreciated that his constructs asked no questions, leaping to obey whatever command he had, no matter how ridiculous. It may not have achieved anything, but it did make Blake feel a little better.

He followed his wrecking crew for quite awhile, getting slightly sleepy at the eventual monotonous sounds of magic stone hitting regular stone. Until he heard a crack.

"Stop."

The constructs instantly halted, and Blake inspected them quickly before finding a stone tile on the roof had cracked down the middle.

"Keep hitting that right there."

'A' obeyed and smashed the thing to pieces, the tile falling and throwing up dust on the floor. Above it there was a symbol etched in the rock, and Blake smiled.

"The symbol for a Mirrored Gate trap, Maste...:

"Yes I gathered," Blake interrupted. "Smash it please," he waved a hand and his constructs eventually managed to reach the thing and bash it to bits. "God that felt good." Blake sighed, kicking some of the rubble. Then he blinked and looked down the corridor, seeing a door at the end.

"Thank God," he exhaled. "Now off you go. Open the door."

He followed his constructs down the hallway, letting a humanoid open the door for him. A gust of wind struck him instantly, and as he walked through he squinted into a dark cavern to realize he was standing at the edge of a huge drop.

Excitement shot through his gut. It matched Ilya's description of where she was held, and he expected he was close.

"Now how to actually explore and find her..." he mumbled, wishing again Lumiere had become a servant. He was about to ask Navi if he had some kind of ability to shine a light when he heard a feminine voice scream.

"Blake! Look out! He's coming!"

Then there was only the flapping of monstrous wings.