The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 484: One, two, or three?

Mason wasn’t scared of skeletons. Or elementals. So he didn’t see how skeletons wrapped in elemental would be any worse. The first few lumbered clumsily towards him, walking a bit like fat astronauts.

He threw up his Ranger’s Quarry, mostly out of curiosity, and because he seemed to have the time. It circled the thing in his vision and made an x-ray like sphere that showed the thing in layers.

Not much surprise. A lot of rock and stone all moved by some bullshit magic force. Mason imagined there’d be players who had a real problem breaking them. He wasn’t one of them.

[Ranger’s Quarry Analysis: This prototype isn’t stable. Expect a random primordial explosion if damaged extensively]

Mason sighed, but it didn’t change his plans. There weren’t enough of the things to really worry much, and that explosion would have to be pretty terrible to keep him down. Still, it was nice being ready for an explosion in your face, and more and more he was glad for the upgraded power.

He dodged the first skeleton’s comically slow spear-thrust, slashing down on its shoulder with a Predator’s Strike as test number one. It chopped straight in, severing clean through rock and bone to take off the arm. Mason grinned, trying to decide how to hit it next. Then the thing exploded.

He covered his face with an arm as fire and shrapnel sprayed against his body. Apex Predator didn’t even flare, and he suspected his armor had taken the brunt of it. He found a few jagged shards stuck in the leather-like material, a few red marks on his exposed skin.

Apparently ‘unstable’ was a bit of an understatement. But also, they’d have to do a lot better if they wanted to really hurt him.

It was the wrong sort of thing to think. Of course it was. RoboGod could read your mind and probably did all the time.

The Mason of the past would have wanted to get through whatever this was as quickly and easily as possible, looking only to survive and get the reward. But the Mason that was still alive in the Great Game sometimes wanted irrational things. Maybe stupid things by previous estimation.

He wanted risk. He wanted challenge. He wanted skeletons that moved faster and exploded harder, because then he might even have a chance to die, and beat them anyway.

He smashed the next skeleton with a front kick so hard it slid back and tipped like a cow, a little disappointed when it didn’t explode. He took a moment to glance around the cave, still not sure what he was supposed to be doing to clear the event.

But it looked like the ‘Nexus’ or maybe goblin or Maker constructs were powering up. Energy that stunk like rot was coursing through cable-like tree roots with a dull green light. Mason supposed he could go around cutting them, but he wasn’t sure what the things were powering up for. Maybe he needed them? Was the tree trying to help him or hurt him?

Something like a translucent cube seemed to win the race. It crackled and flared with sickly green light, getting stronger and stronger until Mason squinted and looked away. As the light faded, dark black hands splayed against the wall inside.

Some thing stood like a man made of oil. It hissed and opened its spherical head to reveal a few rows of teeth and a tongue that lashed like a whip. More energy was filling up other constructs, and Mason was starting to think he should do something about that.

[Objective Options: 1) Destroy Malfunctioning Maker Prototypes. 2) Repair Malfunctioning Maker Prototypes. 3) End the event without completing objective 1 or 2.]

The text scrolled and Mason wondered again what an event like this might be like with civilians. Would they actually be inside and need defending? Would they have more information to share? He’d definitely need more players to protect them if so—people like Becky or Alex or…basically anyone besides him.

But for now it was time for at least a closer look. He ran past the few remaining skele-mentals, straight towards the hanging roots connecting the artifacts from above. As he got closer and activated Speak with Nature he knew he didn’t want to hurt the tree. It was definitely being corrupted and used but it wasn’t beyond hope. He could still feel it fighting, resisting, clinging to whatever central core of it remained.

He felt a stubborn, masculine spirit. When it sensed him it didn’t ask for help, didn’t beg or cry out—instead it was more like a renewed sense of purpose. A will that called: Do what you must. I will suffer it. I am not afraid.

Mason’s urge to save the thing only grew. He grit his teeth and summoned a now available Streak, still watching the strange glowing Maker artifacts fill with foul energy. The wolf appeared with a howl, linked to Mason’s mind enough to understand the situation without being asked.

“Whatever comes out of those things, keep them busy,” he said, still inspecting the roots and the tree above. “Yes I want you to dodge.” He rolled his eyes. “No it’s not two different things…alright, just do it how you want.”

The wolf was getting about as indifferent to pain as Mason, which he supposed he just had to accept. Already he watched Fang Brother flare, his passives and items infusing the bonded animal with much of his power, if in a reduced way.

He heard a metallic clack as at least one of the artifacts opened, and another growl as the oil-beast came screeching free.

“Go,” he said, sprinting towards the base of the tree as Streak went to meet the threat.

He didn’t exactly have a ‘plan’ yet, but he sensed something important. Probably whatever he needed for ‘option 3’ and ignoring those damn constructs all together. As usual he wondered just how much more effective at this he might be with Blake here, but at this point it was a very fleeting thought.

More of the oil creatures were popping up in different shapes and sizes from other constructs. It also seemed like they were making more of the skelementals. Streak could distract them, but he definitely wouldn’t last long without help. Mason knew he had to hurry.

He activated Aspect of the Cheetah and bolted for the middle of the giant tree. Whatever these Maker artifacts were doing, he didn’t believe they were the source of the corruption. His experience with them was more…neutral, like automatons that just did what they were programmed to do. There had to be something else.

He found the first sign of it at near the metallic bars and platforms that were holding the tree elevated. The material looked rusted and filled with holes, except on closer inspection, they pulsed with the same sickly light that had formed in the cubes. Could he break them? Bring the whole damn thing down? And if he did, would it kill the tree?

He tried the easiest method first—summoning his bow and loosing a few well placed shots at joints and what looked like weaker spots with acidic arrows. The shots themselves didn’t do much, but the acid splattered and hissed and it didn’t seem ridiculous that it might work with a bit of time.

He glanced at a very busy Streak, the wolf racing back and forth and snapping at whipping oil tongues before leading the creatures on a merry chase. He used every moment the wolf bought him, loosing a dozen acid arrows at the metallic bindings before running to join his friend.

The creatures were clumped and thudding across the ground after an already bloody Streak, their attention totally absorbed. Mason growled and plowed straight into them, hacking down on two skelementals.

They immediately exploded.

Mason and most of the oil demons blasted back covered in rocky shrapnel. A wave of pain shivered down his body, and he did his best not to enjoy it. Transformation ticked to life, and he pictured skin as thick as hide.

The oil creatures shrieked and turned towards him with rage. He spit blood and a piece of shrapnel that had come through his lip and grinned.

Tongues and claws came from every direction. Mason hacked off the first with his transformed Claws and ducked another, spinning and falling back as he slashed anything that came too close. Streak growled and jumped on a creature’s back, immense size and strength splattering the thing before he ripped off its head and tossed it away.

They fought side by side, scattering the creatures as predator became prey in a few moments of brutal violence. Mason kicked back another skelemental and activated Shared Pain, wincing as he took maybe half of the wolf’s wounds before running off again.

More of everything was spawning from the cubes—the dead creatures mostly replaced in a good thirty seconds as Mason splattered more acid arrows and ran around beneath the tree.

His back up plan was definitely ‘break all the beacons’, but a piece of him wondered if they might be useful after if he didn’t…

He doubted the system would just let him keep them all. But maybe one? Or maybe this cave could be used or at least learned from by someone with a lot more expertise than him. Someone like his civilians. Or even ‘allied’ centaurs. Or, annoyingly, someone like Blake.

After waiting as long as possible, he ran back to join Streak for another round of hunting. It went much the same—except he soon realized the oil demons were bigger, and went down with more difficulty.

So apparently it wasn’t just Mason (and also Streak with his power) who was going to improve with time. He supposed the question was: who was going to improve faster?

He went another round of arrows and trash killing before he finally saw a metallic bar snap.

The acid was working, which meant he just had to weaken the apparatus enough and the weight of the tree would do the rest. Of course he didn’t know if that would actually do anything…but there was only one way to find out.