The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 482: I tried

The ancient druid, or whatever he was, gasped as he saw Mason and the others. His red-veined eyes bulged, his skeletal frame shook, and he opened his mouth several times, obviously trying and failing to speak.

“Can you help him? Heal him or something?” Mason glanced at the shaman, and the centaur nodded and came forward. He muttered words to some other spell, freezing with an obvious channel as he pointed a hand at the tortured man.

The increasingly familiar, dark green power of the shaman’s magic slithered through the air and curled around his target’s body. The old man gasped, his eyes rolling back as he twitched and swallowed at nothing.

Mason wanted to give the man some water, but he was worried about stepping on the platform and wanted to try talking first. When the spell ended they waited until the old man raised his head and opened his eyes.

“I’m Mason. This is Night Eyes. We want to help you, but I’m not sure how. Can you understand?”

The man nodded, shaking with what might have been a laugh or a sob.

“Too late,” he half croaked and half whispered. “Too late for me. But…knowledge. You…you are a druid. I can sense it. So young. Too young. How is it…possible?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Mason said. “Tell me how to help you. Can I step on this? We can take out the roots. Keep healing you. I can get you out of here.”

“No.” The druid shook his head in fear and moaned in pain. “My friend, old friend. Roots from a tree beneath the earth. Don’t take them. Keep away.”

“OK.” Mason held out his open hands. “What else can I do?”

The druid smiled and met Mason’s eyes.

“Yes. You can help me. Find my companion. Not his fault. So much pain. Help him, please.” The druid’s eyes were filled with terrible suffering and regret. He looked like he’d have wept if he had any moisture. “Help him, and I will give you all I have left. And free the tree below. Find a way. They bound it here, beneath their metal prison. I tried…tried. And failed.”

Mason clenched his teeth, starting to get the idea even before the text scrolled.

[Objective gained: Free the Great Tree beneath the Maker’s Hall. Reward: A mysterious artifact.]

[Objective gained: Save the ancient druid’s bonded animal companion. Receive the ancient druid’s blessing.]

“What were the Makers doing with the tree? And how do I get to it?”

“A hatch. They opened. Don’t remember how. Careful.” The druid sagged, shaking his head. “So tired. I’ll rest. A little while.”

Mason took a deep breath, then walked around the laboratory. “Any of this mean anything to you?” He gestured at the various objects. “Or anything the old man said?”

Night Eyes shook his head, looking thoroughly spooked and lost in thought, still staring at the old man on the platform. Mason wandered around looking for another staircase, or a lift, or something he could…

A button. Actually several buttons, lined along one of the walls like light switches. Mason saw no labels or any indication what the hell they were for, but he also didn’t see much option except to push some. He glanced at the sleeping druid and winced.

Would some of them activate the platform somehow? Torture or kill the man? He literally had no idea, though it seemed equally possible the ancient things did nothing at all. He gestured at Night Eyes to come look, but the centaur soon shrugged with as little understanding.

Mason inspected the room again, looking for anything unusual or something to indicate another path. There’s hadn’t been anything in the hallway outside, either. There were no other doors, no other stairs or teleporters or portals.

Once he’d completely run out of other ideas, and after attempting uselessly a few times to wake up the druid, he wandered back to the buttons and stared.

“Fucking Blake,” he muttered, wishing he had his brother there to figure it out, or at least just to use his ridiculous luck to randomly push something. Mason wasn’t exactly known for choosing the most pleasant, random options.

There were five buttons, all of which seemed exactly the same. Mason rubbed his fingers together and considered one more sweep of the room, or waiting for the druid. But he suspected the system wouldn’t be giving him any help. He took a deep breath, picked the button furthest from the platform, and pushed it.

Nothing happened. Mason waited a good thirty seconds, then pushed the next button in line. Again, nothing happened, and now he was worried he’d go through them all and still have no idea what to do. He waited, and pushed, waited, and pushed. About a second before he pushed the final button he heard a terrible, metallic screech.

The room shuddered. The entire wall to Mason’s right exploded in a cloud of dust as it slid back like the construct door. As it did, a series of other clangs and crashes grew and echoed from somewhere beneath. Mason began to expect those buttons had been for a variety of things which were stuck or waiting, and were now happening and/or breaking as they released.

When the ear-piercing noise finally stopped with a final shudder, Mason winced and glanced back at the shaman. He decided not to push the final button, then walked to the opened back wall and looked down a now exposed, rectangular gap beneath.

“Well, there’s another staircase,” he said with a sigh. “It’s just broken off and sitting at the bottom of a fifty foot drop.”

“What is a foot?” Night Eyes clomped up beside him and looked down with a shiver and an obvious distaste for heights. Streak came next, shaking his head with an instant ‘nope’, before padding off to sniff dusty old objects.

At the bottom of the drop was a very different looking structure, reminding Mason more of a mine than the modern, metallic looking Maker halls. Everything was curved and natural rock, stalagmites and stalactites all over the place like monstrous, jagged teeth.

“I can probably climb or just jump. But I think you’re screwed.”

Mason decided it was yet another problem Blake could have solved without much effort, a fact that both annoyed him again and reminded him of his own limitations and decisions. He’d decided to travel light, but he could have brought a backpack full of rope, or something.

He could have done what Phuong was thinking—brought Haley or Rosa or any civilian with void storage, then he might have had all kinds of useful things. Maybe if he had civilian classes they could have figured out a lot more information about the hall he’d walked right by, or screwed up. Like the damn buttons.

But none of that helped him now.

“This is not a place built by centaurs,” Night Eyes said, more to himself than anything. Mason almost snorted with a ‘yeah, no shit,’ but knew it was likely the shaman was battling through a few hundred years of cultural belief.

“You can wait here. Keep healing the old man. If I figure out where to go or some other path, I’ll come get you.”

Night Eyes nodded because what choice did they really have? Mason doubted even with his strength he could carry the creature down. As it was, he was going to have to hang and climb along the metallic roof like a spider before he could get to a wall. If his claws didn’t pierce the metal, he was going to enjoy a pleasant drop. Unless he could somehow swing…

“Good luck, Hunter.” Night Eyes stepped away, and Mason gave him a nod. Then he banished his armor and rolled his shoulders as he activated Shapeshifting, almost groaning with the usual feeling of relaxing tense muscles and joints.

With what was probably a very disgusting series of cracks and pops, his body quickly re-shaped into more lupine features. He opened his eyes to see a very surprised and disturbed Night Eyes. Mason grinned and gave him a wink.

Then he flattened and extended his Claws, crawling down into the gap in the floor. He tested the metal, jabbing his fingers straight to see if he could pierce. Fortunately, it seemed like a thin covering over rock. Without too much effort, he pierced it and reached the stone beneath, thought they didn’t go in very far.

It would have to do. Without another word, he reached beneath and gripped, digging until he had a proper grip before lowering himself through to hang. Then hand over hand, he hacked himself grips in the roof with quick jabs.

After a good fifteen ‘swings’, he was nearly at the wall. Nothing had exploded, no alarms had gone off, and all in all Mason decided things were going swimmingly. By the time he reached the rock wall he was kind of enjoying the exercise, taking the last gap with a flying leap and knocking a bit of rubble as he stabilized.

He crawled down with comparative ease, able to grip the rough stone and even find some decent hand or footholds as he made his way to the bottom of the cavern. He was nearly there when he heard a kind of screech.

He stopped and listened, enhanced senses tuned for any change, trying to narrow his target.

Or in this case, targets. The screeching picked up and grew in volume, moving fast from some distant part of the cave in an obvious swarm. Mason dropped the last ten feet and moved the opposite way, not eager to fight whatever was coming.

He raced across the ground looking for tunnels or something to hide under, not afraid but also not wanting unnecessary problems. He eventually settled himself flat against a wall and camouflaged with his Sleeves, figuring it was probably good enough.

The huge swarm of bats he’d expected eventually rounded a corner. They looked big and unpleasant. Just the sort of thing he really preferred not to deal with. It was only after they completely ignored him and flew a circle around the cavern that he realized how badly he’d fucked up.

The bats turned, as if they’d all agreed with some kind of hive mind, then flew straight up into the gap in the roof. Towards Night Eyes and the druid.

Mason dropped his camouflage and screamed for attention. Then he jumped at the wall and climbed like a madman.