The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 204: The lone wolf

The troll practically stepped on Mason as it stomped to the river. It paused slightly, clearly smelling him, then just went on, too focused on its task to care. He let it go, and waited.

Mason was pretty sure his fish friend wasn't going to risk attacking a troll. Especially when it had been promised a risk-free meal. Of course, Mason wasn't entirely sure the best way to deliver said free meal...

More goblins were emerging from the trees. Thankfully Mason only saw one other domesticated troll waiting patiently on its leash. The troll-master goblins who'd come first were busily explaining themselves to the others, all of whom seemed content to sit back and watch the beast swim towards Mason's friends.

They were also extremely close together. A juicy little pack of goblins practically shoulder to shoulder...

Mason held up a Sleeved arm, clutched his nymph charm, and started channelling his mana into a lightning bolt.

He winced as he noticed his pool had definitely shrunk and was draining faster now that he'd changed prestige classes. But nevermind. He didn't need to leave much, and decided to drain a good two thirds, shivering as the energy practically crackled around his body. He hoped his fish friend appreciated fried food...

The bolt arced and struck in an instant, flashing with a brutal release of energy as it sparked between the goblins. Some screeched and leapt away. Several dropped where they stood.

[Killed Goblin Scout x4.]

[Killed Goblin Troll Herder x1]

No experience yet, so he assumed it would come at the end. And these goblins weren't tough orc warriors. No doubt they were sneaky and fast and clever, but they had the build of a high school long distance runner. They were not designed to take punishment.

Mason grinned when he saw the troll-master fall. The troll reacted with panic to the lightning. But with something like horror to his dead handler. He roared in confused rage, clawing at the closest tree before leaping on the surviving goblins nearest his master's corpse. Glorious.

More goblins were coming from the trees, no doubt straight towards the huge crash of Mason's spell. He stood, and greeted them with arrows.

Perhaps just to stay on theme, and perhaps because the spell had worked so well, he picked a brand new, as yet unused, tier 2 'lightning arrow'. Then he Power Shot the first unlucky bastard into oblivion.

It felt good.

He missed the satisfying shrieks of fear and agony that followed the ever-increasing speed and accuracy of his archery. Some of the creatures managed to comprehend his position, and a few arrows and darts were flying back. Some he ignored, or brushed away with a Sleeve, others he just let hit him.

"Come on," he shouted, stepping forward and loosing arrow after arrow at anything stupid enough to stand still. "Shoot me!"

Two archers obliged, growling as they stepped out and loosed. One passed just over his shoulder, the other hit his thigh directly, but still didn't go in far enough to stick. Mason shot back and put an arrow through the first creature's throat, two more into the other's chest.

He heard more goblins scattering back into the trees. Maybe from the troll. Maybe from Mason. The troll chased them, though, and Mason let them all go. He turned and ran back towards the river, leaping into the water and swimming full speed to help his friends.

When he came out he found Phuong and Streak standing on a smouldering troll, Seamus surrounded in fire, eyes blazing, apparently having basically melted the thing's head.

"I love this staff." He grinned, twirling it and practically dropping it before Phuong managed to chop off the troll's shriveled husk of a head.

"Good work." Mason said, letting out a very relieved breath before looking at Becky. "Everyone OK?"

"Aye, chief." The fire wizard beamed. "Just leave it to old Seamus."

Phuong and Becky rolled their eyes, but both gave Mason a comforting, if slightly blue-lipped grin. He turned back and swam the river again, no longer bothered by the cold, or the effort.

Then as a few mortally wounded goblins stared, he grabbed the arms or legs of their dead tribesmen, and dragged them in silence to feed the fish.

* * *

It was bloody cold across the river. Unnaturally cold, as it turned out, with a ridiculous wind that hadn't existed moments ago, and a light snow with big, fat flakes. Everyone but Mason was pale and shivering by the time they'd gathered wood and Seamus lit it all.

Mason had them all strip down to their underwear and lay out their sleeping bags to dry, then they sat as close to the fire as they could without getting burned.

"We don't go anywhere until you're all dry," he said. "Cold is no joke and it'll kill us just as sure as goblins. Eat. Drink. You're burning a shitload of calories."

They all munched on nuts and tore at jerky in shivering misery. Mason wrapped himself around Becky as best he could, hardly bothered by the cold. She clung somewhat desperately to him for warmth, sitting in his lap and putting her head on his chest. Between the contact and her lack of clothes, he mostly just tried not to get turned on.

"You want to cuddle like that?" Seamus said to Phuong without a trace of sarcasm. The older man looked somewhat helplessly at Mason, who gestured for Streak to come between them. "Hold onto the wolf. This is still basically too warm for him."

Both men practically threw themselves into Streak's sides, and Mason and Becky had a chuckle. For his part Streak just yawned and lay down by the fire, his tongue slightly out, growling a little until he got a scratch.

Mason left them soon to get more firewood. He kept his senses keen for any sign of something to hunt, but found the forest eerily empty of life. Soon he reached out with his strange, new, druidic sense, using Speak with Nature as he drifted his hands along the trees.

Silence. Thick and oppressive. Mason shuddered and inspected the trees, which looked alive and even healthy to him, save stripped bare as they endured the winter. It was like...they were asleep.

What had the goblins called it? The 'Evercold'? He wondered what strange magic was at work, and if it was some kind of quest that players could interact with. Perhaps it wasn't just a Great Tree he needed to save.

But now wasn't the time for speculation or increased ambition. He was worried enough about just getting his friends through the damn place and to the tree, which he saw was a ways yet with his newly enhanced Wayfinder power. He took the others more firewood, then went back to the river and tried to find Becky's pack for awhile before giving up.

The speed of the current had likely carried the damn thing too far, and it could have gotten stuck on something beneath the surface, or picked out by some monstrous humanoid, or who knew what. Mason had no expectation of finding it.

Instead he gathered more firewood, went back to the others, and happily held Becky against his skin. When the sleeping bags were finally approaching dry enough, the group gathered in for the night and slept.

"Do you think it's safe here?" Becky whispered, pressing herself very warmly and pleasantly against his skin.

"Not really," Mason whispered, holding her and kissing her head. "But Streak and I will be watching. And listening. You don't have to worry."

She squeezed him tight and nestled her face into his neck.

"It's going to be a long night," she said, squirming slightly against his leg between hers.

"If you keep that up it will," he agreed. "Just close your eyes. Think about food."

Becky giggled, and sighed as he stroked her hair. He took a minute just to look at her against him, vaguely stunned as usual that she was real, and with him, and all his in this ridiculous new world.

He grinned when she fell asleep in seconds, then looked up to see Streak's attentive eyes and perked ears. He smiled, soon laying Becky down and wrapping her tight before crawling out.

"I was thinking the same," he whispered to the wolf. "We don't need sleep, do we boy?"

The wolf just stared, and Mason looked out into the trees, really running his eyes over his Wayfinder map.

"I'd try straight North," he said, then closed his power.

The moon was out, looming over the canopy of the forest like some great eye watching the night. Mason had told Becky the truth. This place wasn't safe, as no wild place was ever safe. But Mason was beginning to realize, he and his might be the most dangerous thing in them.

"Go." He gestured at the trees with his chin. "Hunt past the magic cold. Find your kin. I'll protect them, and call you when I need you."

The wolf blew a puff of steamy breath, then sniffed the air. With a last, appreciative glance into Mason's eyes, he turned and vanished into the woods.

"Good luck, my friend." Mason whispered, looking at Rebecca asleep nearby.

He felt a strange anxiousness for the creature, though he wasn't afraid for the ever-increasingly powerful wolf's life. There was opportunity here. They could both smell it. To make Streak's life more complete, to give him family beyond Mason, to give him mates and children and purposes of his own.

And, Mason couldn't help but think, Nassau could sure as hell use a pack of mutant dire wolves.