The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 463: Blake and the rift

Blake sagged to his favorite chair in the white tower laboratory, completely drained of mana and mental energy. He grinned up at the multi-coloured, insanely shaped collection of constructs and just…random creations, with a kind of artistic joy.

At some point he’d stopped really planning or considering his designs. As the hours passed he gave in more and more to…intuition, letting his new Primordial Making create whatever he (and it) damn well pleased.

There was a couch with so many legs it looked like a polka dotted spider. He’d made a kind of headless, mannequin construct with pretty shapely breasts, and also spears for arms.

Then there was Jim (a worm construct that Blake was pretty sure couldn’t do anything useful), and Green Head (a talking head that was various colours of…well, the name made it fairly obvious).

“Can you scratch my cheek?” said Green Head. “Don’t know why I should get itchy. Makes no sense, really.”

Blake groaned as he stood, giving Green Head’s cheek a scratch.

“Oh, thank you, Master. That’s wonderful.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Blake looked at the slowly warped and destroyed side of his lab, wondering when was the last time he’d actually eaten something. He also wondered where Seul-ki and Annie might be. He turned, and found both girls near the lab entrance, staring.

“What?” He pulled his hand away from Green Head.

“Hey, don’t stop, I was just…”

“Not now,” Blake hissed. “Is…everything alright?” he called, doing his best to smile as he wiped some greasy hair off his forehead.

The girls kept on staring, glancing at each other as if not sure what to say. Blake tapped his fingers on the closest table, then took a few steps towards them.

“I realize it all looks…a little odd. The talking head is…especially bad. But he’s really nothing. Temporary.”

“I’m right here, you know,” said Green Head. “And I’m basically just a facet of your…”

Blake Unmade Green Head with a swipe of his hand. The son of a bitch actually screamed as he vanished, which definitely didn’t help with the overall ‘returning to sanity’ tone. Blake winced but kept his smile.

“I’m just experimenting. The new Making power is really quite…confusing. Hard to control. It’s like my unconscious is just loosing itself all over the lab. I’m sure I’ll improve.”

“I’m sure you will,” Seul-ki said with a polite smile. “But don’t you think it’s time for a rest? And your orc ally has been requesting to see you. Something about a council meeting. She said it could wait, but that was several hours ago. You dismissed me when I tried to explain. So I told her you were…otherwise engaged.”

“Did I? Sorry about that.” Blake looked again at his creations and winced. “Well. I’d better clean up and head over. But maybe give me another charge? Some more mana would do my mind a world of good.”

Seul-ki frowned, and Blake summoned his most charming smile. It was getting clear to both of them that he was getting more and more addicted to her re-charge and boosts—especially as a substitute for sleep. With his Partitioned Mind he was able to at least rest while he worked, using one half to keep functioning.

But it also seemed to screw with his natural sleep cycle, and he really had no idea how much he’d actually been sleeping. There was some intimate connection between mana and mental energy. And even Blake could only push it so far.

Exhausting mana completely was an instant migraine, or worse. And re-filling it at Seul-ki and Meditation speed was a bit like shoving your head in an ice-bath full of cocaine.

Mana, in other words, was a hell of a drug.

“Only if you promise to rest when your next bar is low,” Seul-ki said, giving him a judgmental look. He nodded enthusiastically, and she touched his arm and started charging with her own power, while simultaneously boosting his Meditation.

He did everything he could not to moan and let his eyes roll back. He also decided at some point in the future he would spend his mana, do a super-charge, and get a blowjob at the same time. Though he suspected if he did, life would basically be over. He would have achieved perfection.

“Thank you, my dear,” he slurred, then cleared his throat. “I’ll see Ilya, then take a nice, long rest. Then maybe we could all take a walk? Get a little sunshine?”

“We’ve been out walking,” said Annie, giving him a skeptical inspection as his mana charged. “You’re the one who’s getting pale as a sheet.”

“A bit rich coming from an alabaster red head. And I’ve always been pale,” Blake said. “It’s part of my statuesque beauty.”

“Uh huh.” Annie rolled her eyes. “Maybe a statue of a gamer locked in the basement. Or a drug addict.

“Harsh. And unfair. I prefer to think of myself as a more handsome Keanu Reeves from the Matrix.”

Annie glared but clearly fought a grin. Blake was about to hit her with another quip when something flashed in his eyes, and system text scrolled across his vision.

[Attention players and civilians: Phase 3 event initiated. Planar rift. Please leave the immediate area if you do not wish to take part. Rewards will be received based on individual, group, and House contribution. Good luck with your ongoing survival!]

Blake blinked and exchanged looks with the girls. Historically, game ‘events’ hadn’t gone…particularly well for him. Especially when he was inside an orc tower.

“Unfortunate.”

He put a hand over Seul-ki’s as he led her to the closest window, glancing out with hesitation and keeping back like he was avoiding a sniper. For a moment he didn’t see anything unusual.

“There.” Seul-ki pointed. Blake squinted until he saw a kind of circular pattern on a field not far from the tower walls.

“Navi, if you could be so kind.”

The floating energy that was now his familiar zipped out the window a lot faster than he was used to. It returned and blinked a blue color.

“Planar portal, Master. Infernal. Possibly Abyssal. Certainly demonic.”

Blake winced and unconsciously put a hand to his amulet. His experiences with demons hadn’t been all that wonderful, either, but at least he was powerful against their mind magic. Unfortunately, they were also resistant to his mind magic.

He looked at his…grotesquerie of current constructs and sighed. The timing really was terrible. He needed days and probably weeks to really get a handle on Primordial Making. And though his mana was re-charging quickly, he was still just over 40%.

“I don’t suppose they’ll give me a minute to rest and re-charge,” he muttered, noticing Annie had already summoned her axe.

“Is…does…can I help, Master?”

Blake turned to the voice of his unpredictable goblin engineer, Pliny, and smiled.

“Of course. Though you should be careful. We don’t know what will happen when we float down.”

The goblin’s dead eyes widened. “Go…down? No. I…help…from tower, maybe”

Blake expected that meant ‘hide’. But he wasn’t bothered. Goblin cowardice was a wonderfully useful trait. He also wasn’t sure if he should go to Ilya and get the orcs mobilizing or if this was all something he and his two players needed to do alone.

It was an ‘event’, so it probably wasn’t just one portal. Though he couldn’t be sure exactly how many…

“Two more portals, Master,” Navi chirped. “They’ll grow more powerful the longer they’re left. You’ll need to destroy the demons as they arrive. Or find some other way to close them.”

Blake sighed, then dismissed nearly all his mostly useless constructs just to make sure all his maximum mana was free. But he decided to keep the damaged, floating flail-sphere. Surely it could kill a few things before it fell apart.

“OK. Let’s hope the orcs come on their own,” he said. “It’s their towers, after all. Hang on, and don’t forget your fancy new rings. We’ll have to try them out a bit.”

Annie and Seul-ki grabbed his arms, and he floated them all through the windows with Telekinesis.

In a few seconds, the trio all touched down gently, and Blake was reminded how far he’d come from launching himself like a flesh-covered rock. Navi whistled past him for a good dose of humility. He sent his floating ball forward and started on a new Primordial Making.

“You can get closer, Annie, but please be careful. I’m thinking you can boost her now from range, Seul-ki, with our fancy new tournament rings. Maybe give it a small test.”

The Korean’s eyes glazed, and she and Annie both grinned. Blake matched it, but he was lost now in yet another attempt to control the seemingly uncontrollable. He of course picked ‘Combat’ and gave it considerable juice, deciding to make this one permanent. Hopefully it would last and be useful for multiple portals.

He pictured the demons he’d fought—from the different forms of bizarre animal to the winged horrors of some Biblical horror movie. The ‘clay’ of his power began to form, swirling with color and as yet indeterminate shape.

He tried to ‘guide’ it towards something…stabby. Something big with a spear, or a sword. Most demons had hide or carapace and it was generally wise to be able to pierce it. Maybe a spiked hammer? Or another flail?

His lack of focus was a problem, and the primordial clay was whipping around like he’d abandoned it on the potter’s wheel. He shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts. He definitely hadn’t slept in awhile.

Demon slayer, he thought more simply. Give me a demon slayer.

For a minute he let ‘Psion’, or roboGod, or maybe Jesus take the wheel, just trying to hold his construct together and keep it from becoming a blob with a fire-poker. Something like legs, at least, were finally taking shape.

Annie was calling back that things were coming from the portals, and that she was using her Void power now. He heard her hacking something down and knew he needed to hurry.

Another problem with Primoridal Making—the channel had absolutely no ‘set’ time. It just…finished whenever it finished.

Thus far his new ‘version’ of Making was basically worse in every conceivable way. But he knew it was a matter of skill, and practice. He was learning a new art and right now he was finger painting. But he couldn’t wait to see what a Michaelangelo could do.

The mostly psionic but at least a little arcane power finally formed, the distinction far less obvious than before. The figure stood, glowing as the purple/blue sphere formed and twisted nothing into something.

Blake blinked and stared at his creation.

It looked more or less like…a man. Just purple. And with one long, pointy arm. Otherwise it was a bit fuzzy around the edges. And was it wearing…some kind of trench coat?

Blake felt himself droop in recognition. He knew what he’d done even before the thing turned and stared at him, pretending to smoke a fake cigarette.

“Call me Constantine,” it said in a slightly raspy, but mostly robotic voice. “John Constantine.”

Blake slapped a hand to his face.