The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 189: Bold strategy, Cotton

Streak looked and sounded how Mason felt. The wolf was soon slumped over to his side, staring at Mason with something like wounded betrayal, a constant whining growl coming from his gut.

"Sorry, buddy," Mason clenched a fist and braced against the pain. "Yes I should have thought it through better. But it won't last long. I hope."

He was right. It got worse. Then pain became nausea, and he held it together right until Streak started dry heaving with that horrible dog puking sound, and Mason instantly dropped down and followed.

His vision swam, and went dark. But he was still conscious, and he blinked again and again until the world transformed to a familiar hollow of rock and water. The crone stood at her cauldron.

"Back again, young buck? You certainly are a glutton for punishment."

"Fastest path to wisdom, right?" Mason spit and tried to stand, but after sharp pain lanced through him, he found his limbs were broken again as they'd been in the cave. "Lovely," he said, giving up and slumping over.

The crone kept stirring her cauldron, but smiled. "So you do listen. What wonderful news. Listen now, young buck, we don't have much time. You're going to need to..."

Streak emerged from the water with another whine, padding right up to Mason before deciding to shake himself and spray water directly in Mason's face.

"God damnit, Streak." Mason was in too much pain to cover himself or move, and just let the water drip down his face. He glanced up at the crone. "Need to...what? Eat a poisoned tuna sandwich? Drink my own urine? Ready for anything."

"You fed..." the crone seemed at a loss. Her face flickered strangely and Mason could swear he saw little numbers flashing in her eyes. "Why did you share such a gift with...an animal?"

Mason shrugged, not sure he liked her tone, but tried to answer as honestly as he could. "He's my friend. My ally. He needs to keep up to me in strength or I'll get him killed. And I don't want him to die."

The crone nodded, seemingly mollified, as if the world made a little sense again. But then she stared at Mason and squinted.

"You've rejected Gaia? In favor of Cerebus?" Here she rolled her eyes as if entirely less surprised. "What did he promise? Endless strength? A herd of submissive females?"

Mason winced since that wasn't far off. But it wasn't really why he'd chosen it. "Duality of life...felt wrong. Like I was losing myself. I might have taken anything to switch away, but this was good enough. I might have lost power, if I'm honest. But I did what I had to."

The crone stared and stared.

"You surprise me again, ranger. And at my age you don't get many surprises." She smiled with her almost toothless mouth, and motes of green and brown light sparkled above her cauldron as she stirred. Streak was whimpering again, clearly disturbed by the woman and her magic. "I thought all you'd want was the power to take, to hold," the crone's voice grew like a storm, "the power to spread your seed. I was wrong."

Not entirely, Mason thought, forcing himself to rise enough to see the contents. The wind buffeted him and the magic grew but he wasn't afraid. He wanted to see.

"A man can be both," the crone almost 'whispered' but the sound carried everywhere. "Why is the cat so curious, I wonder? Opportunism? The joy of discovery? Another duality, perhaps. Or is it more like generous greed?"

"I don't know what you're on about," Mason said, feeling a little like he was being talked about in the third person. The crone shook with a silent laugh.

"Even so. Even so. You can come closer." She waved him on. "Look, my young friend, tell me what you see."

Mason stared into the swirling waters and blinked as he saw the blackness of space, broken with a thousand pin pricks of starlight as he stared into endlessness. It turned with the crone's spoon, spinning and spinning and spinning...

"I see..." Mason's eyes lost focus until the darkness grew color and form. Then it was two distinct planets circling a yellow sun. One was earth, the other...not. He drew closer and closer until he plunged into the atmosphere, burning harmlessly and passing through until he struck the earth like a meteor. Except he wasn't him, he was...watching.

‘He’ rose as some other version of himself, glowing green eyed, body so muscled it bordered on inhuman, rising from the crater like superman. He looked maybe a little older. Bearded and wild haired.

Mason could hear voices in the distance calling for help, crying out in agony and pain. He watched himself and knew he heard.

'Mason' turned and looked right into his own eyes, then looked into the trees.

"They always die anyway," he said, voice hoarse as if with lack of use, no tone at all. "Better not to give them hope. Better not to...get involved. It doesn't hurt that way." He looked at Mason again, face drooping and eyes growing slick. "I can't take it anymore."

"What should I tell him?" The crone's voice pierced the world, but Mason knew only 'he' could hear. "Should I let him rest? Give him his long earned reward?"

Mason shuddered as if he'd learned something he couldn't articulate—a kind of insight without detail. In the eyes of this 'Mason' he saw countless generations born and die, over and over until they'd forgotten their beginnings and all the lessons of the past, no matter how they might try to remember.

'Mortality makes life hopeless and meaningless', he felt waft off himself in nihilistic waves. He shuddered and shook his head, angry and refusing such a thing though he could see the truth and had no argument. Why go on? He saw the question in his own eyes. Why do anything?

"If this is all a game, then there's only two ways you're out," he whispered, maybe to himself, maybe to this listening God. "You give up, or you die. I'm only going to fail in one."

He wanted nothing more to do with this miserable creature that looked like him. Life didn't need a purpose, it didn't need continuity or perfection of the ages. To be alive was gift enough. To choose what to do with the time you had.

"You think too much," he yelled to roboGod, or the 'crone', or whatever the hell he was dealing with. "Now let me out. I'd rather eat your damn poisoned salmon."

He blinked, and the world vanished and returned until he sat against a tree next to Streak. The wolf snorted and lifted its head, tongue soon hanging as it obviously felt better.

"I'm starting to think I should have just planted that acorn," Mason said, not feeling any different and not sure what it had done for him. Then the text started to scroll...

[Class Upgrade: Feral Druid. All druids are shepherds of living things. This one hides amongst its flock. +2 to physical stats. New powers available on level up. New immediate Class Power: Shapeshifting.]

[Title earned: Post-Secondary. You are among the first players in the world to upgrade your secondary class. +2 to a random statistic.]

[Title earned: Bold Strategy. You have upgraded your secondary class rank above your primary class. Increased secondary class power selections on level up.]

[Class synergy detected: Transformation ===> Increased control and speed of adaptability.]

Mason looked at the new class with shock, then instantly opened the Shapeshifting power, which seemed currently to have either a 'full form' or a 'half form'. He just managed to keep his jaw closed as he stared.

* * *

It seemed about time to pull up his full profile.

‘Bold strategy’, he thought, looking at the title. Sure, all part of the plan. Like he had any damn clue what he was doing. At least more druid power options sounded good. But he’d rather some more ranger options.

Shapeshifting had little videos of its forms next to the power, and apparently Mason could now literally turn into a wolf. Oh. And some kind of…horror-flick werewolf looking…thing.

After he recovered from the slack-jawed, uncomprehending shock, he assumed he had to have the ‘essence’ of an animal before he could take its form. Or half form. Or possibly he just needed to learn more, or spend time with them…OK he didn’t have a damn clue.

But frankly the idea of doing any of that currently scared the shit out of him. Instead he gave Streak a good scratch and pet while he tried to forget the whole thing. But it also occurred to him, since he'd gotten a 'class upgrade' out of the deal, what the hell did the wolf get?

No change was obvious, but he popped open his pet profile and things got clearer pretty quick. It used to say 'Young Taiga Wolf'. It now said 'Young Great Forest Shifter.' And under his list of powers was now a rather familiar looking 'form' list that currently included a single entry…which looked something like the hunchback of Notre Dame…with a wolf head.

"Oh Jesus," Mason said, closing the menu. "OK, I need to be ready for that. Promise me you won't just randomly chang...."

Streak shivered and growled as his body contorted. His hind legs thickened and extended as his back arched, and in seconds he leaned back to stand on two legs and flex his forepaws, which now looked very much like hands. His head, thank God, was the same. He looked at Mason with a quirked expression as if confused at his discomfort.

"You look...great, buddy," Mason said, horrified. "Just great. Not at all like a deformed, mutant, circus wolf boy. Nope. Very handsome."

Streak yowled slightly and spun, then shifted back to his wolf form with equal speed and ease, though the option greyed out and seemed to be on a long timer. Mason fought the shiver and refused to try his own. Obviously he would, but he just...needed a minute. And maybe alcohol. OK a lot of alcohol.

Yet another upgrade to his new regenerative power was certainly interesting. He hadn't actually used it for much yet, but definitely wanted to see what it could do. Did it only work if he took some punishment first? That's sort of how it seemed. Not ideal, perhaps, but if it was increasing his regenerative abilities he basically couldn't imagine much more important to his survival.

"It better not increase my damn libido," he said, then sighed at Streak. "Enough wasted time. Let's keep moving."

* * *

Mason and Streak followed the rough guide given by the nymphs of the giant's path, asking the occasional tree if they'd seen him. The answer was always the same vague version of ‘not lately’, so when a large spruce finally said ‘yes’, Mason almost ran off

"Wait, what?" Mason stopped and opened his mind again to the nearby forest. "Which way did he go?"

Trees weren't the best conversationalists. They could say yes or no and convey a feeling or two, mostly interested in discussing sunlight, fire, and if it would rain soon. But the old tree bent its branches and pointed vaguely southeast. Mason put his hand to the bark and smiled, expressing his thanks through the very bizarre but increasingly natural 'bond' he had with simple living things.

Then he took off running at full speed watching for signs, soon realizing what he'd thought was a small stream was actually the giant's path. Apparently it sunk the earth wherever it went, producing new pathways for water. It was a strange realization, and one Mason wasn't sure how to handle. This giant wasn't like the orcs, that was certain. It belonged in these woods and was part of the natural order of things.

Destroying it, he realized, might affect more than he intended. And yet the nymphs hadn't warned him or expressed any doubt. Of course they maybe had no idea. Thea never left her tree at all, and Calypsa only to defend others. Obviously there was more than one 'god' of nature, and the nymphs may care nothing for what they saw as beyond 'Gaia'.

Mason supposed, as a druid, and maybe even as a ranger, it was up to him to decide such things. Maybe he could release the druid without destroying the giant? But he put this from his mind for now. First he had to find it, and to see what he was dealing with. Once he'd had a look at the creature he’d trust his judgment more.

So he ran. He was going further South than he'd traveled before, his Wayfinder map soon covered in grey as he traced a single line into the unknown. It made him think of Kiaan, the scout he'd sent to explore the edges of the continent about...had it been a month already? He shook his head, not sure if it felt like no time at all, or forever. Life changed fast in the apocalypse.

Blake was still missing, leaving Mason alone, yet not alone. His relationship with Haley and Becky was stronger than ever, and his relationship with Rosa was getting...more complicated. He'd made friendships, too. Carl, Phuong, Alex, Garet. He didn't know many of the others well, but he liked plenty of them, too.

Even now he could look at his 'patron' list and see the many options of governing his own settlement. Hundreds of people were depending on him for leadership, for protection, for...what? Hope?

The idea should have been appalling, and almost certainly would have been for the Mason of only a few months ago. Now he felt...what? Responsibility? Pride?

He knew in some ways he was the right man for the job. He really could protect them, lead them, look out for them. He wasn't sure what the hell a leader was and still didn't think he wanted such a thing.

But he cared about the people who depended on him, and would die to protect them. That meant at least something.

Nevermind the women who shared his bed, or the children they might soon share. Nevermind the nymphs or the creatures of the forest. It had been a strange few months indeed.

But for now, at least, he could put all that from his mind. He was a hunter again and exactly where he wanted to be. This giant no doubt moved quickly with its long strides and seemed never to stop in its endless march. Mason would just have to be faster.

"Come on, Streak," he shouted, pushing his limbs even further with a smile as the woods welcomed him through. "I thought wolves could run!"