The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Blake stepped out of the second demon portal with a deep exhale. They'd gone to the 'Brown’ tower this time, and had to fight their way through a series of crumbling tunnels, climb up shaky ladders, and break apart an ancient altar still fueling the demon's power. All while fighting off a whole assortment of unpleasant demonic creatures, generally resembling beasts or bugs.

But they'd succeeded. Despite being in a 'more powerful' tower, it wasn't nearly the challenge of the first dungeon. Mostly because they had fucked up and approached the first dungeon totally wrong, of course.

"Everyone alive?" Blake said, glancing at the rest of his group.

Seul-ki and Annie both nodded in silence, this time hardly hurt. The goblin assassin kept against the wall, obviously disturbed by the waiting party of orcs. Pliny grinned his awful grin and held up his latest toy: some kind of arm-propelled drill that had worked surprisingly well in the crypt-like tunnels. Until it broke, of course.

They'd also brought the new Lord Stoneblood's cousin, who came out from the portal like a peacock when he saw the brown tower orcs in awe.

This one wasn't a 'soulguard' and had been both terrified and vulnerable to the demonic magic. He also seemed like an incompetent idiot.

Blake suspected he'd been chosen intentionally, so as not to be any kind of rival to the fledgling lord's power.

"Your portal is closed," announced the conquering orc fool, like he hadn't been the most useless member of their merry band. Blake refrained from rolling his eyes.

"I see that," answered the old orc shaman waiting with his guards, his contempt for the warrior clear. He looked at Blake. "Pass my lord's thanks to your lady, wizard. I will go and tell him the deed is done."

Blake nodded and mentally commanded his constructs to follow as he walked towards the exit. Not much reason to stand around being pleased with himself, he supposed.

The orcs wouldn't like it, and he knew they respected action. Orcs were generally the strong, silent types, more impressed with a Mason type than a Blake. So he needed to behave accordingly.

Two down, he thought, two to go. He'd found a ‘Bind Enchantment’ rune in this one, too, which he was itching to try. And he'd also leveled to 15 and upgraded his Psion to ‘tier 2’, whatever exactly that meant. But he was guessing it meant ‘better’. All in all, a very good day.

The word 'day' sparked his memory. Three days, the system had said, after the beacons activated. Three days until the 'tournament' that would involve every player in the world.

Blake had been so busy he'd almost lost track. Trying to do the dungeon before the tournament had been ambitious bordering insanity (a fact Seul-ki had been happy to inform him of). But she was getting used to Blake by now. And he hadn't really thought twice.

Yes, they could have been injured. And then probably forced to enter the tournament either at a disadvantage or maybe with no chance. But he figured there was at least the possibility the system healed them. And he also figured it would pluck them right out of the dungeon, if required. And he had full faith in their ability to deal with the portal quickly. So he hadn't seen any point in waiting around.

But, technically speaking, today was the day. He wasn't sure if they'd send some kind of...envoy. Or ask them to travel somewhere. Or if they'd get warped without warning. In any case, after several life and death decisions in the demon hole, he preferred to be home, and possibly in bed with Ilya (and maybe Seul-ki), until his time was up.

"Quickly," he said to the others. "No time to lose. Come along."

The unlikely band of heroes trudged with the now familiar echoing of Blake's constructs, surrounded and stared at by the common orcs of the...whatever tribe. Blake was no doubt becoming something of a known quantity in the towers. But still, it made him no less of a spectacle.

He left the Brown tower, then crossed the central path and nodded to the gate guards, even entering the white tower and climbing his way up before the world seemed to...freeze.

The lack of construct thumping caught his attention first. He looked up and turned to see the world had gone blue and blurry, with a light growing and crystallizing in front of him until a vaguely human, blue robot pretended to smile.

"Greetings, Player. Please allow me to formally invite you to the First Annual Player Friendly Competitive Tournament, to be held in the Neutral Zone. Any un-designated player versus player violence will result in immediate death. As will most failures to comply with system rules."

"Delightful.” Blake smiled. “Thank you very much for the invitation. I would be thrilled to attend. Out of curiosity, how long will we be gone?"

The robot kept on smiling, its mouth too wide, the rest of its face too dead.

"Wonderful news! Query answer: The game world will be frozen until the completion of the tournament. As a powerful player with no civilian responsibilities, you will be welcome in any designated player zone, but not in any of the House or Settlement areas, unless specifically invited. All rules will be system enforced with severe punishment, including but not limited to, immediate death. Do you understand?"

"Completely."

"Thank you for your cooperation," said the system's messenger. Then it quirked its head as if it had heard some voice on the air. "As a designated Alpha Tester, your feedback would be valuable. Do you have any suggestions on how we might put other players at ease with our invitations?"

Blake felt the growing urge to laugh like a maniac, but he buried it in his partitioned mind. He scooped up the wave of emotions that followed—the urge to scream in terror and rage, to call the thing names or curl up in a little ball, and put those away, too. He put a hand to his chin and looked thoughtfully at the ceiling.

"You're doing great," Blake said. "But I'd avoid telling people about the whole 'death' thing. Knowing there's rules is enough, right? And maybe tell them specifically they won't lose any time. At least that’s what I assume by ‘frozen’, but it wasn’t that clear. It’ll be most players first question."

"Thank you for your feedback." The thing just kept on smiling, then lifted a hand as if in welcome. "Please enjoy the many amenities provided. Do you have any questions before the entrance duel?"

Blake felt his gut drop at the final words.

"How are the 'entrance duel' opponents selected, please?"

"Randomly," answered the robot, just a little too quickly, and with not quite enough smile.

Blake had always been a very good detector of lies. And this thing was full of shit.

"Thank you," he said, trying not to picture any of the people he seemed likely to be pitted against. What exactly roboGod was trying to do with this tournament he didn't know. But he knew it loved drama. Would it make him kill someone he cared about? Someone he needed? Or would it try and create rivals with other human groups? Whatever it was doing, there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

"I'm ready whenever you are," he said with a smile.

The pleasant sight of the white tower's hall shimmered and vanished as Blake's vision faded. He blinked and found himself standing in a doorless cell, a menu opening before his eyes. It showed a list of all his constructs with a red blinking icon, saying he had surpassed his 'mana and time caps'. And that he could only select constructs within the caps.

It looked like that meant…two. He sighed and selected an arcane and a psionic legionnaire, making a mental note to start making a hell of a lot more options as soon as possible. He hadn't really thought about his duels or how they'd go, or really prepared himself at all. But to be honest, he wasn't that worried.

The rest of his constructs vanished off his list, the two chosen appearing beside him in top condition, kind of crowding him in the little room.

His cell flashed with seizure-inducing red light, a monotone voice squawking far too loud and echoing around the concrete room.

Duel will begin in: fifteen seconds. All powers have been unlocked.

Blake opened his abilities and fought for calm. Fifteen seconds was enough for a channel. He didn't know what the 'arena' would look like—if he'd have more time to create new constructs, or if an enemy would appear and charge. But as usual, Blake intended to squeeze out every moment of use he could. He activated True Making.

There literally wasn't space enough for his standard giant Defender. So it was time to get creative. His legionnaires were all-around powerful, but they were relatively slow. He decided on something faster.

More or less on whim, Blake pictured his favorite animal: the jaguar. He wasn't sure why, really, except he'd always liked the animal's look, its cunning. The more familiar he was with a thing the better he could sculpt it. On top of watching plenty of nature documentaries in his life, he'd also kept a picture of one on his wall for years. He imagined it as he manipulated the model generated by his power: the golden eyes, the sleek black body, the sharp, bared teeth and fangs.

Duel will begin in: five seconds, announced the loudspeaker.

Blake activated Duality of Ambition and channeled, making the animal Arcane with a basic 'bestial' intelligence template. He finished in the last moments, then scrolled through his Shields, his Partitioned Mind.

He activated Navi and let her float up over his shoulder, his Mana Gem in one palm, the demonic necklace loose around his neck.

As the platform jerked and raised Blake up towards whatever battleground, he smiled without a care in the world. Fear was for people without destiny.