The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 239: Intruder detected

The entrance to the Engineering Guild was a long, narrow corridor that didn't even bother to hide its traps. Mason stared at the holes on the ceiling, the arrow slits in the walls, and what looked like large slots for some kind of blades to come out. He sighed.

"Send in a construct? Set off the traps?"

Blake frowned and inspected. "I could maybe deconstruct some of this. Plug some holes. That kind of thing. But it might take me a minute."

Mason felt his impatience like a physical thing. But he knew it was unwise and might get someone killed. It wasn't just him down here anymore, and not everyone regenerated.

"Alright," he sighed. "It doesn't look like we're in a rush. Go ahead and..."

Mason trailed off as the wall slid open at the far end of the corridor. A goblin wearing goggles stepped out holding a giant, gun-like tube. It stopped long enough to smile, then aimed it straight at the party.

"Becky, shield!"

Mason didn't waste any more time thinking. He summoned his Claws and activated his Shield gem, jut his arms out slightly so his Sleeves were facing the walls, and sprinted straight through the corridor.

The engineer spewed enough flame Mason couldn't really see.

Apex Predator flared with Elemental Affinity. The thunking, whistling sounds of traps springing from every direction filled the air. Two blades like circular saws sliced inward from the walls, bouncing off Mason's Sleeves. He saw Transformation and Duality of Strength spinning up.

Then he was through.

He slammed Shield first into the engineer, crushing him against the wall so hard he heard half a dozen bones break. The flamethrower bent and fizzled out, and Mason winced as he expected some kind of explosion that never came. He dropped his shield, and stomped the fallen engineer. Twice. For good measure.

The smell of roasting flesh made him wince because he knew it was his. Pain danced up and down his body, punctuating at an arrow apparently stuck in his thigh. Below the shield, his legs had been badly hit, and his shins looked a little like burnt chicken wings.

"Good thing Alex isn't here," he muttered. "Now I'd be 'Flame-bait'."

"Move, move!" He heard Blake's voice behind him, and the rest of the players all ran past the traps without any problems. "They take a minute to re-activate," Blake explained. Then his nose crinkled and he looked Mason up and down with obvious distaste.

"I am really not getting used to...this."

Annie looked equally disturbed, gagging slightly at the smell as she turned away. Even Calypsa looked him up and down with concern.

"Do you require healing, druid?"

"Nope." Becky shrugged. "I don't even shield 'em anymore. I figure it's good for 'em to pay a price for doing crazy shit all the time."

"All you need is the love of a good woman," Mason said, shivering slightly at the pain but getting disturbingly used to it. Becky stuck out her tongue, then he felt the arrow push out of his body with a wet pop before clattering to the floor. Annie and then Blake practically vomited. Even Rebecca made a grossed out face.

Mason poked his head through the secret door to see a small tunnel he almost certainly wouldn't fit in. His mind turned to Streak yawning in the back, but the increasingly big bastard would probably fit even worse.

"You know if I'm doing all the work maybe you should Shared Pain just to be useful."

Everyone looked confused but Streak, who just snorted, as if allergic to the idea.

Mason gave up and went down the main passage. He supposed he could have tried a 'full wolf' Shapeshift form, but for all he knew he'd be as big as Streak. Also no one knew he could do that and he wasn't sure he wanted to drop that little bomb just now. And if it didn't work he'd be stuck in the new form for awhile, probably unable to speak.

He sighed. He really needed some kind of smaller Shapeshifting forms, and some more ability to shift back. Problems for another day.

The main corridor soon branched and led to a number of larger spaces. Mason could see a kind of giant platform down one, a rougher looking cave down another. Between both were endless, unmarked, iron doors.

"Call it, Blake," he said, knowing his brother's luck was ridiculous. "And don't just say left. Go with your gut."

"Right. My gut." Blake tapped his fingers on the wall and clucked his tongue. "I want to check out all the doors. But I expect you want to try the lift."

"Your gut said all that?" Mason said skeptically, and Blake just grinned. "Alright. You all go with Blake. I'll scout down the hall a little ways with Streak. If you need me, just yell. I won't go far."

They all went without protest, and Mason snuck along the wall as silently as possible. His Sleeves helped him camouflage and blend even into the grey metal, but he knew sooner or later he needed some kind of stealth power to help mask his sounds and probably his scent.

Of course he needed it far less than he needed a damn innate bow, and maybe a way to identify, or heal the others, or avoid getting shitkicked constantly...

There were just so many damn powers and abilities he needed, and so little time or choice. But all things considered he knew he was doing very well. Whether he was still in the 'lead' he didn't know, but honestly wasn't that worried about other players anymore. The more powerful humans the better as far as he was concerned. They needed to work together to take on everything else.

But he recognized the thought as possibly overly optimistic, and maybe even naive…but for now at least he forced himself to hope for the best.

He soon reached the 'platform' to discover a giant shaft going up, and a circular hall filled with...machinery, or at least a variety of goblin devices, and several more lifts. Apparently this place was ridiculously large.

A crash and some goblin shrieking made him turn back to see the others vanishing through one of the iron doors. Blake had stayed in the hall, and looked towards Mason and stuck up his thumb.

"All good. Just a few..." he looked at the room and winced. "Nope they're dead."

Mason really wasn't very worried about the others. Blake by himself seemed disturbingly powerful, and with Rebecca and Calypsa to protect him, nevermind Annie, it would take a hell of a threat to actually harm them. Unless they got seriously surprised.

So Mason crept forward onto the platform, sniffing and listening for any sign of actual goblins. By now he sort of expected to run into more committed resistance. Not just the occasional trap and one engineer with a big…

Intruder detected. Intruder detected.

He crouched and spun, hearing the voice as if all around him but no sign of anything nearby. Finally he looked up and saw something like a speaker, and a giant...eye, looking straight at him. He pulled his bow and loosed a Power Shot straight into the thing, no idea if that was wise.

Intruder detected, blared the voice again.

Then the room's dull, white lighting flickered, and the sound of mechanical presses echoed through the cavern. The platform shook, and the middle rose up like an elevator until some kind of robot stood fully revealed.

For a moment it didn't move, and Mason activated Ranger's Mark as he inspected the thing. It had three legs in a tripod, the torso squat and thick with two arms ending in...guns with bayonets? Spear launchers?

Mason honestly wasn't sure. He was about to run up and just start hacking the thing when the lighting flickered and dropped again, this time returning with bright red.

The 'robot'—and it looked like several more on the other platforms—made a series of buzzing and clacking sounds, then turned and faced in Mason's direction.

The same red light glowed in its chest, revealing what appeared to be a corpse-like, emaciated goblin holding…joysticks? There were tubes sticking out of its chest and head, and it looked at Mason with glazed, madness filled eyes.

He also heard footsteps and goblins shouting from above, from below, from the sides. From everywhere.

"Blake!" he shouted, moving sideways as he picked a path to approach the first robot, Streak growling and following behind.

The thing turned and shot, and at least that settled that. It was definitely a spear-gun.