The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 455: Phase two

“Carl! Er, Phuong, or I don’t fuckin’ know. We need help! We can’t get through the God damn bone thing! And Mason’s trapped inside!”

Mason’s warrior-concubine was shouting at everyone and looking panicked, standing outside the herald’s portal with everyone else. It was clear the humans had never seen anything like this. Not that Ayet had, either.

She and Dariya hadn’t made it back to Nassau. Mason’s wolves had come and turned them like sheep dogs, a couple practically nipping at their heels as the rest of the pack ran off and swarmed over escaping demons and gathering humans.

Now here they were, staring up at the most horrifying display of demonic power and portal magic Ayet had ever seen in her life. Or read about in any books. She wished desperately in that moment the council of Shariss was here at her side. Archmage Holbron would know what to do, she was sure of it.

But he wasn’t here. It was only these humans. And her.

She looked at the oracle, hoping for a little strength. But the old woman looked paler than Ayet had ever seen her. She stared up at the swirling red and black mist locked behind bone bars with unblinking eyes, mouth moving as if in silent prayer.

One of the humans warriors slashed a blade into the bone, the sound a terrible screech that made Ayet jump with fright. Another tried with a different blade with a similar result, and soon all the players were loosing magic and striking the thing in a terrifying display of aggression and power.

“It ain’t doing shit all.” The warrior-concubine kicked the prison and smashed it with her mace before pacing. “I can’t believe I’m sayin’ this but fuck we need that son of a bitch Blake. What do we do, y’all?”

Ayet tried to control her racing heart.

“I think…it’s possible…”

“I could try the apocalypse, like.” The human wizard interrupted as if Ayet hadn’t spoken. “I mean if you all clear out I could start her up and see what happens. No fecking way it doesn’t do at least somethin.”

The human elder, ‘Phong’—or so Ayet thought, these humans had extraordinary names—turned to Ayet with a polite smile.

“You were saying, miss? We are very open to advice.”

Every eye turned to Ayet, even Mason’s wolf and that stag turning like they were waiting for an explanation. To speak to humans and warriors and intelligent animals like this, in front of a giant demon portal…it was all so bizarre as to feel surreal. Ayet licked her lips and tried to stay calm.

“The bone is a spell. It’s not physical, exactly. It’s a kind of magic blocking the portal inside. I don’t think you can destroy it with weapons…or fire.”

“You can fecking destroy a lot with fire, trust me. I’ve killed wizards, like, even with all their shite shields and…”

“Please,” said Phong sharply. “What would you suggest we do, Miss Ayet?”

“I…” Ayet swallowed and tried not to imagine what she might find inside. “I believe I can dispel it. At least I can try.”

Mason’s concubine looked impatient to the point of rage, but the far more polite elder seemed to sense it and keep things civil with a look.

“Please try,” he said, gesturing towards the portal. “We will protect you.”

Ayet almost laughed out loud. Protect her, from a greater demon’s magic? As if anyone could promise such a thing.

She took deep breaths and clutched her book of spells, stepping forward and trying to think if the protective ward would really change anything. It shouldn’t. At least she didn’t think it would. She would just need more time and have an extra layer of symbols to count and undo. Demons used portals the same way every other creature did, no matter how powerful they were.

Or so Ayet had been taught. What did she or the teachers at the academy truly know about the demonic denizens of the far planes? They hadn’t seen them or fought them in a hundred years. Maybe more. Maybe things had changed…maybe the ward would consume Ayet’s magic, or her body. Maybe it would pull her inside…

Ayet flinched as Dariya’s cold hand took one of hers and squeezed.

“I’m here, my lady,” she said with a smile. “You’ve been trained for this. Demons are no different. Not now. Not three hundred years ago. They are not special or beyond the rules. You’ve been trained.”

Ayet grit her teeth and nodded, squeezing the old seer’s hand. She let her vision blur as she activated Runic Sight, almost gasping as the two huge rings of complex symbols formed and spun in the air.

She took the first arcane ‘word’ in a long chain and pulled it out from the first ‘sentence’ of the spell. She had to undo the ward in the same way it had been formed. But she knew this one as she knew them all.

She need only remember the pattern, and to trace it backwards. As with all portal magic it was only a matter of time, and memory. And elves had a great deal of both.

Hold on, Mason, she thought. We’re coming. Just a little longer.

**

Mason was having the time of his life. He kicked off the desiccated head of the last fading Little Demon Asshole, shouting ‘ha!’ as it exploded in a puff of smoke and crumbling bone. Without its affinity, the thing’s body had literally turned to dust in the trapped ‘abyssal’ environment, until it finally collapsed with an exhausted sigh.

And a satisfying pop. Its personal portal sphere shattered like glass just like the others, and Mason cracked his neck and looked at the big bastard. Finally, they were alone.

“That abyss really is something. You boys should be more careful.”

The creature had stopped taunting him after about minute two of its little minions choking to death on their own smoke. But it also seemed either unwilling or unable to move out, simply shooting off smoke streams (which did basically nothing) or swinging its blade if Mason got too close.

The smaller demons had eventually tried to hide at its feet like children at their mother’s skirts. Mason had been forced to come close, forced to dodge or block with his Claws/Sleeves. He’d got the job done, but not without price.

When you didn’t regenerate, taking massive demonic blows (even when blocked) wasn’t great. Mason’s arms felt like he’d spent the last few days abusing them at the gym, or maybe taking over from Atlas.

He was also dripping blood from random cuts, pretty much all from his own sword edges getting mushed into his shoulders or hands.

But that was fine. The fight was pretty much over, right? Probably not so much.

Mason sighed with a complete lack of surprise as the greater demon started swirling with new shadows. The moment its little minion portals died away, the huge demon’s legs began to truly form and solidify, and it looked like it was preparing to finally move.

“Phase two,” Mason muttered, practically mashing his Ranger Mark again. It couldn’t still be basically invulnerable, right? I mean at some point you had to be able to actually kill the thing…

[Vulnerable to planar, life, and soul-based magic] his mark text displayed. [Moderately resistant to divine magic. Highly resistant to nearly all other forms of damage. Almost immune to physical damage.]

Almost immune, huh? Well that wasn’t great. Though the word ‘almost’ seemed pretty important. Mason had life magic, technically speaking. But he sincerely doubted he had the kind of mana required to lightning bolt this thing to death.

With a quick scan in the name of optimism, he searched Endless Quiver for ‘planar, life, or soul-based’ options, then stopped as he realized. His ‘Bow of Anshan’ had made all his arrows different—had turned them into ‘fey’ arrows, that suggested they would ‘exist in both worlds’.

It hadn’t seemed to matter until now. But that sure as shit sounded like ‘planar magic’ to him. And since the demon was officially ripping his legs from the ground like an uprooted statue, Mason supposed it was time to find out.

He lifted the bow that still bore his elven bride’s ancient family name, deciding on a Crippling Strike first since it had seemed most effective on the demon’s smaller versions.

As usual, the power loosed, then exploded, spraying his target in a widening cone of shrapnel as it struck at waist level. The huge demon flickered with smoke wherever it was touched, the same avoiding nonsense of the others. But this time, the arrows hit it anyway.

The fey (and flame, mostly just to be visible) ammunition sparked and flared as it bounced and struck demonic flesh, sticking and stripping bits away. The creature roared in fury and charged, the actual ‘cripple’ of Mason’s power unsurprisingly not effecting the massive creature.

“What is this?” The demon roared. “Where did you find that…obscenity?”

Mason didn’t really have time for trash talk. He ran at full speed around the ring, listening and trying not to keep looking as he tested who was faster. The answer seemed to be him, at least a little—but he just didn’t have enough space in the damn prison to actually keep away.

He’d be trapped close enough to take a swing in seconds, then he’d have to figure out how to get around the thing and take some shots before he got trapped again…

The demon’s huge, shadowy blade hissed as Mason got caught against a wall. He ducked but was still forced to deflect with a Claw summoned in one hand, the force shivering down his already trembling arm. But he was up and running again, pausing as a vertical swipe slammed into the dead earth, ducking again as it whipped over his head.

Then he was out and moving, loosing a Power Shot that caused another inhuman scream of rage, followed by a few more before he got worried and just bolted as the demon chased. And teleported.

Smoke billowed as the demon erupted from thin air. It was crouched with its mouth at Mason’s level, red eyes filled with veins, fanged maw open to reveal a long, snake-like tongue. The tongue whipped out with impressive and speed and precision. Right up until Mason cut it off.

Black ichor sprayed and the demon roared again, scrambling forward on hands and knees now before reaching out with a huge, clawed fist. Mason jumped back and tried to get away, but the fucker was fast.

He slashed at the fingers, kicking off the palm just as the thing closed to grasp him, hearing another roar of fury as he just barely kept away and ran off.

Two more arrows. Three. Four. Five. Turn!

The demon charged with horns lowered and aimed, sword to one side like a huge scythed chariot. Mason ran out of room.

He was forced to jump or duck, his instinct wrong as he tried to get under the blade. It swept too low, and Mason could only hold his Claws up in front of his face as the huge blade struck.

It carried him back, the force so brutal the flats of his own swords smashed into his face and chest like a battering ram. He slid and rolled across the ground, his mind prepared to slam into a bone wall that never came as he tumbled again and again.

He finally stopped moving with a groan, blinking in a dazed confusion as a familiar scent that should have been wonderful came like a foul smell. Apex Predator flared and dropped his affinity, and he realized he was lying on fresh, green moss.

Transformation ticked with what Mason could have sworn was an exasperated sound. His body filled with the fresh life all around him. And his bashed brain eventually understood the bone prison was down. He was back outside.

“We’re comin, darlin’!” Becky shouted from…somewhere. Mason only knew it was the voice of a cowgirl angel, and he felt himself wrap in the familiar warmth of her Aegis. He grinned and spit blood as he got to his feet.