The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 228: Stop hitting him

Mason didn’t know how long Seul-ki’s boosts would last, but he intended to make the most of them. He jumped and landed on one leg at a time trying to boost them with his Duality.

Every leap seemed easier, further, and he knew it was not only working, but working fast. The first troll reached him and swiped downwards with a vicious blow, and Mason didn’t dodge.

Instead he held up his arms and took the hit with his Sleeves. His knees and back almost buckled, the huge club still carrying down with enough weight it sagged his arms and bounced off his skull and shoulder.

Mason stepped back with a growl as the world spun. He felt the damage, and he felt it healing. The next swipe came from the side, and he didn’t even move. It knocked him several feet to bounce along the grass, and he didn’t rise.

Goblin voices were shrieking in victory, though at least a few still stabbed him with spears on the ground. He didn’t move. He embraced the pain, watching his augmented Transformation with closed eyes, imagining himself growing harder, heavier, stronger.

Finally he sat up and grabbed one of the spears stuck no more than an inch into his side. The goblin wielding it went wide eyed as Mason vaulted to his feet, grabbed it, and smashed its head like an egg on the closest tree.

He hacked away the others and kicked another tree with full strength, again, then again. The third time he heard a crack.

The trolls were coming now, heavy thuds shaking the ground as they readied their clubs with the same mindless enthusiasm.

Mason accepted another hit, then another. He dropped his swords and threw his body against the next troll’s leg and tried to lift it, tried to rip its knee apart with his bare hands.

He knew his blades had Rosa’s acid, and he’d use it soon enough. But he could hear Phuong and Seamus with Becky now in the trees. He could hear his players bringing down the trolls at the gate, and he could hear Blake doing shockingly well against a ridiculous number of goblins.

This wasn’t about victory or survival anymore. Mason had faith in the others to handle themselves and kill the goblins with a little time. Now it was about sending a message.

The troll grabbed Mason and tried to lift him in the air. And failed. It tried to pry him off its leg, even leaning down to bite his back. He felt the fangs sink in and did nothing, pulling and pulling until he felt the creature’s thick bone starting to move.

Then the thing’s tibia snapped, and Mason roared and ripped it out like a chicken bone. He pried its bite off and smashed its jaw with his fist before another troll raked a claw down his chest.

He kicked its knee so hard the leg bent backwards, then raked his fingers down the thing’s chest the same way until he felt his own claws and saw five paths of blood.

The other trolls attacked, and so did their handlers. Mason no longer cared.

A club struck his chest and knocked him a step back. He felt his ribs bruise and crack, and heal just as fast.

“You’re strengthening him, you fools!” He heard the wizard shriek from somewhere nearby. “Stop hitting him. Leave him to me.”

The wizard was still invisible. No doubt he thought that made him safe. But Mason could smell him. The sharp pang of arcane power, of ink and paper and fear. He backed towards the creature until he heard the mumbling of his spell, then pounced.

Purple energy flared as Mason collided with his shield. But he was learning that such things worked far better against projectiles. Few casters had shields that helped them in melee, or at least when they did, they didn’t last long.

Mason was through the wizard’s shield in seconds. The goblin’s spell ended as Mason’s hand wrapped around his neck, his mouth still moving as he kept channeling his spell.

“Finish it,” Mason whispered in his foe’s ear as he waited.

The wizard’s eyes went wide as the energy built between his hands. Then they glazed as arcane power released all around them.

[Apex Predator activated: Psionic Affinity]

[Title activated: First blood]

Again Mason’s mind blanked from a sound like a gong. This time it died down in seconds, and Mason lifted the goblin in the air.

“Haven’t you got anything else?” he growled. “You came here to kill us. To kill me? And this is all you brought?”

The wizard blinked and grasped at Mason’s hand, gaping like a fish. “What…are…you…” it rasped.

“The end,” Mason said, then snapped its neck and tossed it to the dirt.

In the few moments of stunned silence from the surrounding goblins, he walked back to his swords, and looked at the trolls and their handlers.

“Now. Where were we.”

* * *

Blake’s mana was running dangerously low. Every few seconds another goblin managed to hit him with an arrow, a javelin, a rock, and possibly one shoe. Psionic Shield proved itself incredibly efficient and amazing, but it still had its limits.

On the other hand, Blake’s constructs were slaughtering a few generations of goblins. The poor creatures seemed both unable to hurt the statues much, or to figure out some kind of alternative strategy to charging into their spears and slashing arms. It was a bit like a fight between vegetables and Ginsu knives.

Finally the red-plumed fancy goblin joined the fray, and things changed. He was wielding something like an oversized machete, which looked kind of stupid until it chopped off an arcane statue’s arm, then its head, with relative ease.

“That’s quite enough of that,” Blake said, coming forward to get in range. He held up his amulet, and activated Mind Rend.

It seemed fancy goblins fared no better than magical orc kings. The creature cried out in agony as it dropped its sword, clutching its head and swaying like a drunkard.

As usual the amulet seemed to ‘constrict’ around Blake’s neck on use, but it had released previously and he assumed this was just a quirk of its function. Anyway, he really couldn’t get enough of watching the targets squirm.

“It’s terrible, I know,” he said. “But you needn’t worry. You won’t feel it long.”

He mentally commanded his constructs to end the poor bugger, but as he did it was like every goblin left charged from the forest. He was forced to make a…tactical withdraw. Facing backwards. At full speed.

Arrows and spears followed him, a few obviously deflecting off his shield as his mana drained to the dregs. He clutched his mana gem and abandoned his constructs, commanding them to chop their way back to him if they could.

Only Navi remained. She was in her ‘Combat’ form, which turned out to be a four foot tall, vaguely child-like looking robot swinging a simple mace. Blake didn’t think he could exactly rely on her to stop a goblin army.

To his considerable pleasure and surprise, a ragged line of players were coming straight towards him.

“Alex!” Carl shouted, and Blake sensed a wall of force surround him. It felt like a warm hug.

Then beautiful, slightly mad Annie was screaming as she raced straight into the pack of goblins, a giant, bearded man Blake didn’t recognize behind her. The goblins didn’t seem frightened until the first got near cut in half by Annie’s axe, and bolts of lightning seemed to crackle and zap them from the big guy.

Carl warped and vanished. Garet sprung up a wall of phantom spears and stood between Blake and the attacking goblins. Tommaso lobbed some kind of potion, which hit the ground and erupted in flames. Finally Blake turned and started charging Arcane Blast with his gem.

Suddenly the goblins were trapped between players and constructs. There were also what looked like white wolves continually attacking them in the trees, which Blake had to assume was Mason’s doing. He also saw the occasional goblin simply vanish in a flash of purple, and was pretty sure that giant worm was out there somewhere.

He finished his spell and cut down two goblins at the back. His constructs had finished the leader, and Blake saw a red-plumed head roll across the forest floor. The sight of it seemed too much for the raiders.

Goblins shrieked and ran in every direction. Blake and most of the others soon gave up the chase and cheered (or jeered) at their backs, laughing or slumping over or giving each other happy grins.

Mason flew past them all like a violent blur. His swords were in hand, a pack of wolves sprinting at his side. He was too tall, too alien, his limbs longer and more sinewy, his flesh too tight. But it was Mason. A very angry, very frightening Mason.

He hacked down fleeing goblins left and right, his huge wolves pouncing on others and ripping their flesh to a chorus of screams.

[You have helped defend a settlement from attack. Group experience gained.]

“Well,” Blake said, turning and smiling at the wide-eyed players. “It’s still nice to be home. Should we all head inside for a drink?”

Carl appeared beside him and slumped to the ground. “Something strong.” Then he gripped his stomach and went slightly pale. “Er, maybe just water.”

Annie came running at Blake so fast he almost activated Telekinesis. But she slowed down and dropped her axe almost shyly, before burying her face in his chest and shaking with a sob.

He smiled, patting her on the head as he met a few of the players’ eyes.

“I missed you too.”