The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 465: Soulguard

Blake closed his latest portal in eighteen seconds, which should have made him happy. But his ‘plan’ had a tiny flaw. Portals just kept on opening, and he was quickly running out of mana.

Even now, swapping half his mind to Meditation, with Seul-ki’s regen and boosting of his Meditation, he just couldn’t keep up. He’d have to start draining Seul-ki soon, which he really didn’t want to do until it was desperate. But there wasn’t much in the way of options.

Either Blake continued to use Telekinesis to float himself and Seul-ki around the field, or else he had to land. Except if he landed he would be under constant attack by roaming demons, which were getting more numerous by the minute.

The problem wasn’t closing portals, in other words, it was getting to them. They weren’t spawning in some kind of convenient cluster, but instead scattered hundreds of yards apart, with demonic creatures all over the gaps.

Blake’s resources were spread to try and deal with multiple problems at once, hoping they could together close enough to end the ‘event’. But they were clearly too slow. Ultimately, he saw no solution but to land and consolidate.

He shot a burst of Mental Influence to Annie telling her to get to him, and commanded his three remaining active constructs to meet at his position. The ‘Donut’ would arrive quickly. The ‘Constantine’ a little after. And the blocky defender maybe not at all.

“I can defend us for a short time,” Seul-ki told him, holding out a hand and summoning what looked like…a long stick.

Blake raised a brow, but at this point was never truly surprised by the cunning girl. Like him, she rarely shared secret unless she felt it necessary. He didn’t blame her for that. But now did seem the opportune moment.

“It won’t be long,” he said, gripping his mana gem in one hand and his new power gem in his other. He was torn between one more construct and just leaving what was left for Telekinesis and defence. But ultimately, the construct was just more efficient.

He needed more killing power, more protection, and he needed it before he got swamped. As his feet touched the ground he started another channel, forced to trust Seul-ki and hopefully Annie to protect him.

“Boost my Making first,” he said, impatience flaring as the other player stepped away and looked for demons. But her power ripped through him and he grinned as he remembered their rings. She didn’t need to touch him anymore, which was very useful and he reminded himself to test its limits later. If there was a later.

His power ‘hud’ opened, and with his Partition still closed to Meditate, he lost all attention on the world around him as Primordial Making covered his vision.

He activated his power gem and Duality of Sentience—the new prestige power that let his constructs have true intelligence instead of the very basic modes of the past.

He was ready to burn his whole mana gem if necessary to save his own pool. If he drained it totally, especially as tired as he was, he knew it would practically knock him out, or at least result in a world class headache.

Seul-ki was fighting something. He could hear Annie’s voice and he knew his constructs were coming but facing delays. None of that mattered now, though, he was committed.

He forced his Partitioned Mind back to take up half the Making, to focus on the ‘abstract’, which he decided should be…what?

A juggernaut, he thought without really considering. Get me to those portals no matter what stands in my way.

His ‘real’ mind looked for the details—but he let it wander, too. There was a song playing in his head but he couldn’t place it. He saw circles drawing until they were wheels. Lots of wheels. A blocky cart was forming to rest on top, then another and another until Blake recognized a thing almost like a vehicle.

As he did, tubes shot up blasting smoke or steam, the front of the thing forming like a ram’s head with a demonic looking face. The eyes flared red, the nose twitched with an iron ring, and the mouth twisted into a snarl.

Blake released a long held breath as the energy flashed and started to form, his channel over as the thing sprung to reality.

Blood or ichor splattered Blake’s face, and he blinked to see Annie soaked in demonic goo. She hacked through something large and beetle-like to get to him, literally forced to wipe ichor from her face to be able to see. Her axe was…smoking, and looked somehow even bigger than he remembered.

“They’re still coming, and they’re getting worse,” she said, voice flat with the emotionless fact spewing of her Void personality. “We’ll get overwhelmed if we don’t run soon.”

Blake ignored her as he watched his creation shimmer into view. It arrived with the blaring of a deep, sonorous horn, a dozen pipes leaking black and red smoke as what could only be called a small train appeared out of nothing. Or at least a self-moving battering ram. With plenty of seating.

The ‘car’ portion was covered in armor-like hide, with several small ‘windows’ more like murder holes. There was a seat up front for someone who wanted to look like a driver.

But Blake knew it didn’t need one. The bull-like face at the front literally snorted, and he could feel its ‘mind’ in his own, repeating the same thought again and again.

Nothing can stop me. Nothing. Nothing can stop me. I’m the Juggernaut.

Blake grinned and opened the door at the back, motioning for the girls to get inside.

“In you go, my lovelies. We won’t be running anywhere.”

**

“They need our help,” Ilya hissed, resisting the urge to slam her hand on the glossy surface of the council table. She’d called for a meeting the moment she’d felt the demonic energy, but as with all things when it came to the tower council, things took forever.

The lords had agreed quickly to mobilize their forces, but as yet they hadn’t agreed to actually send them. The powerful orc clans and families never did anything without negotiating an advantage first.

“They’re our demon killers, aren’t they? So let them kill demons,” said Kavuk Bloodfist, lord of the red tower. Smug pleasure oozed across his brutish face. “If the human needs our help, let him ask.”

Ilya fought back the first and second unpleasant responses that screamed from her brain. She was the only female on the council, the only non-warrior, and it wasn’t useful to act like it was otherwise.

“It is difficult to ask for help when in combat on the battlefield, my lord,” Ilya said. “A place our warriors should be. It is our towers that require defending, after all. And since that human belongs to me, it is I who is asking for help.”

“You send three humans? Hardly a great force. Send your famous constructs,” said Thek Blacktusk, lord of the black tower. “Send your goblin mercenaries. A leader uses deeds, not words, Lady Ambereye. Perhaps then the black tower will match you.”

Ilya was sorely tempted to remind the mighty Lord Blacktusk that her humans had stopped ‘King’ Gromsh when all the lords of the council had cowered in terror. But it wouldn’t serve her to sting any egos.

She was perhaps the only member of the council who could ignore an insult—being female had its advantages, too.

Ilya hadn’t sent her constructs outside her tower because she couldn’t. Her number of warriors who could leave the tower grounds was still pitiful and in no shape to combat anything remotely as powerful as demons. And she had no faith in her ability to mobilize the goblins to do anything. And certainly not in time to matter.

She smiled and hid the disdain she felt, turning to the new Lord Halvar Stoneblood, whose marriage offer she had declined, whose kin her human ally had killed.

Her guts twisted as she looked at him. If it wasn’t for her human lover he would have made a fine husband, and he deserved nothing but respect. Unless the unofficial leader of the council, Malik Earthsoul, decided to act, the young grey tower lord was also her only hope. And if he stood now she would owe him. Again.

True, Ilya’s existence and actions had made him a tower lord, but she expected it was not the way he’d have wished to rise. She suspected he blamed her and her allies more than a little. Would he someday want revenge? Would it be now? She had no choice but to find out.

“Lord Stoneblood,” she said. “You and your kin have shown your courage and mettle against our ancient foe. Will you stand by and do nothing?”

Many curious eyes turned, both from the lords and their advisors. Halvar Stoneblood was still something of an unknown quantity. He was one of the recently divine-gifted ‘Soulguards’—the only warrior of such high station to be so blessed.

It inspired considerable jealousy and anxiety from the others, as Halvar’s youth, class, and efforts in the demonic portals had already made him a kind of folk hero to the lower orders.

He looked between the lords, then to Ilya, his face finally turning to a sneer. Ilya’s heart sank.

“I have been waiting,” Halvar said, looking around the room. “Waiting to see if there was one warrior amongst you with an ounce of honest courage.”

Ilya blinked, not sure where the lord’s words were going. Though by the looks of it, neither did anyone else. Tension rose like a quiet storm.

“When Lady Ambereye was tasked to close the portals,” the grey tower lord continued, “I thought maybe you were being…prudent.” Halvar almost spit the word. “But now I see the truth. You’re all cowards.”

Warriors stood all around the room, shouting insults and promising blood, cursing the Stoneblood clan and demanding duels. Halvar listened to it all in silence. His laughter quieted the room, then he stood and tossed his mace on the table.

“Kazikdra swarm our holy towers, and you wish to challenge the only warrior amongst you who’s fought them.” He laughed again. “Our ancestors would weep to see us. They would rip down the towers they built for us, stone by stone, and send us to the desert to regain some wisdom.”

This time the voices quieted. Ilya was as enthralled as everyone else, staring at the young lord with a thing like shock. He turned to her, and his violet eyes sent a shiver down her spine. Not of desire or lust, but like she watched at a prophet who could see her soul.

“My Soulguard will go to your servant, Lady Ambereye, and I will go with them. Perhaps I’ll die. At least then I won’t have to live with the shame of calling myself a lord of these towers.”

With that the young Stoneblood turned from the council, his kin and councilors all instantly up and at his side, not a single sign of disunity. Ilya watched them go with everyone else, her emotions warring, mind almost blank with confusion.

“We must forgive the young lord,” said Malik Earthsoul, mighty warrior of the brown and oldest tower. “He is full of the passion and courage of youth.”

The usually quiet, defacto leader of the towers looked around the room, smiling at Ilya as he rose.

“Yet he reminds us of our purpose. The Earthsoul will fight, Lady Ambereye. Excuse me, my lords. I go to the warriors. But we live in a time of prophecy, yes? Is it not all we have been waiting for? Now every warrior must decide if he will answer that sacred call.”

As Malik walked around his kin, the other orc lords stood as talk murmured between them. Ilya saw shame and embarrassment replace indignation. One by one they walked by her table and bowed their heads, leaving ceremonial daggers in a line.

Such daggers always came in pairs. It meant they owed her another one stained with blood—a martial feat to wipe out a family debt.

They weren’t angry. And they weren’t trying to negotiate a better deal. They’d been afraid of a terrible foe and the magic of hell itself. But now they were thanking her for reminding them of their duty.

Ilya’s heart swelled with pride as one by one the lords of the towers walked towards the council’s outer doors—not towards the safety of their towers, but towards the ancient foe. The orcs of the holy towers went to death, or divine glory.