The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Everything about this battle was insane, but Mason didn’t need to be told how to save himself twice. He rolled over his many wounds and broken bones, ripping out his forgotten magic flask.

[The Horned God’s Flagon. Produces an endless supply of nature-magic infused pixie wine. Strong enough to get Cerebus tipsy. Drinking can yield natural blessings for those who remain conscious. And alive.]

It honestly didn’t seem like a great idea to drink what was basically a different kind of poison. But Cerebus wouldn’t have just said it. He put it to his lips with his ‘good’ arm, drinking as fast as he could.

[Blessing received: The Hunter’s Trap. A unique blessing created by two combined divine liquids, neither of which should really be in your body. Immunity to all forms of poison. Increased natural powers. Increased statistics. Guaranteed headache.]

The fire in Mason’s veins snuffed out. A cold, coating feeling flooded through his body, coursing up and down his spine. It was one part pleasure, and nine parts pain. But his regenerative powers attacked his body like starving animals.

He held back a cry of pain as his spine re-assembled. His several broken bones snapped back and fused. A wave of agony flooded up from his legs.

He growled and forced himself to sit up, limbs making popping sounds as the bones started to heal. For a few seconds he just stood there panting, eyes half closed, trying to remember a time he wasn’t a walking disaster.

“Stop being so dramatic.” Cerebus looked him up and down with a pretty judgmental face, still clutching the scorpion tail with a trembling fist. “I’m pitifully weak on the prime. I’ll need your help with the little one.”

Mason glared as best he could, then stood straight with a few more cracks of his spine. He looked around and realized they were standing in a kind of…time-stopped bubble. The players and demons all around them were either frozen or else moving so slow it seemed like it.

He glanced up at the giant undead monstrosity, then the dark eyes still staring from the mist.

“Which one’s the little one?”

Cerebus’s usually angry face curled in a small smile.

“Deal with the champion. I’ll keep my uncle busy.”

Mason shook his head, his body just barely reformed.

“I need a minute.”

Cerebus stopped smiling. He rolled his eyes and took a new grip on the tail with both hands like he was playing a game of Tug of War.

“I knew you’d break the rules,” he shouted, then laughed. “And just for fear of my little pup. No need to answer. I know you’re in there.”

Mason literally pulled himself together. He didn’t care much what the gods were saying, he just needed a little more time. He couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but Cerebus was laughing again.

“I never wanted to destroy it. I just wanted them to know. I’ll face any of you. All of you. Even if I’ll lose. That’s why I’m the strongest.”

The horned god looked back at Mason with a furrowed brow, speaking in his mind.

No, please, take your time. I’ll just keep the famously impatient elder god of destruction talking all day.

Mason refrained from telling him to go fuck himself. He took another look at his people, trying to figure out what was happening. The feuding gods had somehow created a kind of peaceful center in the middle of the shitstorm. All around them the battle was locked in place, silent and still.

As soon as we attack, the shield will go down. I don’t know what will happen, but it will be glorious. Destroy that walking pile of flesh. And then together, we will take the greatest prize, in full view of every god in the cosmos.

Mason tried not to care or feel any excitement about that. He tried to react like a normal human might—to think this was all insane, that this talking god was all nonsense, a fake divine being made by another fake divine being.

But if he was honest, he just didn’t care anymore. In that moment, the thought of bringing down this son of a bitch was all the reason he needed. Completing whatever scheme Cerebus had, and beating Yalor senseless, was about the most compelling thing he could think of.

So he spread his mostly healed wings, and launched into the air.

The protective ‘godshield’ around them popped. The sights and sounds of a cluttered battlefield rushed back. Demon, undead, and elemental enemies turned and launched at him like he was the only target that mattered.

Unfortunately for them, he didn’t fight alone.

The player army got their attention fast. Mason couldn’t see Blake, but he saw Chinua, Becky, Garet, and damn near everyone else loosely spread and battling to fulfill his last order. He saw no reason to change that order.

He was about to summon his bow and start filling that giant full of arrows when he thought about the elven oracle. About Yalor hiding in his mist. About Cerebus talking about ‘elder gods’. He decided he’d been right about his enemy’s fear of ‘Sol’. Were they rivals? Family? Maybe it was time for one brother to put the other back in his place.

Sunlight always was the best disinfectant. Maybe he just hadn’t used enough.

He readied his Rose Belt as he flew higher, cycling up his defensive powers, warning his bonded animals they might be needed again through Share Pain. And yes he was fine.

He took a breath and half closed his eyes, trying to ignore the distractions all around him and steady his mind. No need to put himself in the area this time, or do anything but blast until the giant was a puddle of goo.

When he was confident the enemy was too busy to stop him, he started to channel a new Solar Wrath. It occurred to him that maybe the Life Seed would help. And it also occurred to him he’d spared Seul-ki for a moment exactly like this, but he had no idea where she was.

Then he put everything from his mind, and started. Half his items were glowing, using his stats to boost the magic. His titles, including Demi’s. His new blessing from Cerebus. His Nexus Defender status. Everything he’d learned and gained in what felt like a lifetime in the game, all aiming down at this thing in unison.

He wasn’t sure where Blake got off to, but for a small moment he was jealous. Mason wasn’t much for music, but there were moments in life where it made sense. Other than working out to heavy metal, he usually liked older songs, mellow. Stuff not really right for a giant battle.

But somehow the chaos had shrunk and vanished. He felt relaxed. Zen. And he smiled when he thought of the right Beatles song. He could hear it in his mind, at least.

Hey Yalor. Here comes the sun.

**

“Ahead! Clear me a path! I must reach the human city!”

Nighteyes galloped through the forest with half a dozen of the strongest chiefs before him. Branches whipped at his already cut face, roots grabbing at his hooves. It was as if the trees themselves were trying to stop him.

It was his abyssal affinity, he knew. Centaur had always been unwelcome in the great forest. And he most of all.

There were shadow-walkers everywhere. The many thousands of braves of the Green Sea tribes were fighting well, but the tactics of the open plain worked poorly in the trees. They couldn’t easily shoot, or withdraw. They were forced to charge and fight in rolling waves. But there just wasn’t time.

Nighteyes felt the end of the world. It hurried his steps, and put a madness in his voice that drove his bodyguards on through shadow and fire. To go further was to die. That was clear to all of them now. But so was to stay where they were.

“This way, Shaman!” Palacus smashed into a demon twice his size and held it away, opening a path. Two chiefs slipped through, Nighteyes in their wake. He didn’t look back.

The tree city was fully in view now. Everywhere the creatures attacked its lower part, an endless parade of horrific nightmares from every outworld. The siege had more open ground as the demons massed at the walls, a small circle of cleared space around the dense horde.

A demon so vast it rose above the city swirled with abyssal power. Nighteyes stared, his nightmares there before him in a waking dream. Terror threatened to overcome his mind. There were far worse fates than death for a creature like him. This enemy could consume his soul, and imprison him in the abyss.

He raised his staff, and advanced, covering himself in defensive auras and protection, trying also to protect the chiefs. None of them were going to survive this. But they were needed a little longer.

Dark mist blotted out the sky. A single pillar of light broke through, bathing the hunter floating there above it all. He glowed with impossible might, as if he was drawing all possible mana into himself, yet hungry for more.

Nighteyes knew then it was divine will that they had met.

He thought on the death of his father one last time—seemingly useless, yet the thing which had caused his son’s obsession, and led him there to befriend a human champion. It was the reason they were both here now.

The Greensea ‘prophet’, whose faith had been shaken in these last terrible months, was now restored. It rose up inside him like the dawn. And he knew it was not only the gods of destruction who worked their will upon the world, even before their words floated before him.

[Channel the Summer Wind. Give Human Champion {Mason Nimitz} as much mana as possible. Reward is determined by total amount of mana contributed.]

The hidden legacy power of his family, which had given them their name. Never used except in secret, and only once when he was a foal.

The remaining chiefs looked to him for instruction. Both were perfect examples of the strength and courage of his race. There was no fear in their eyes, only determination.

“What must be done, Shaman? The shadows will notice us soon.”

Yes, he thought, they certainly will.

“It is already done, mighty chief. You have made your ancestors proud. Protect me now. As long as you can.”

Nighteyes whispered the secret words of his ancient kin, and channeled his Legacy power. Passed from father to son, mother to daughter, going back further than the Makers. It did one thing and one thing only—it drained mana from the world, and channeled it wherever the wielder chose.

The only limitation was distance, and resistance. But the more powerful the abyssal spark, the closer to the affinity of the darkness of the caster, the larger the aura. And there had never been a shaman as powerful or close to the dark as Nighteyes.

He held up his Scepter of the Clans—the Divine Artifact rewarded for his great victory in the first demon attack. It increased his power further, pulsing as the effect of his magic struck the closest creatures in the demon army.

Even Nighteyes was surprised as it flew past them, enveloping first the abyssal army, and then the humans, and then their allies on the walls. But there was nothing he could do. Nothing anyone could do.

All would be drained dry. But the power would reveal him to everything it touched. They would know who and what was draining them, and feel his presence. He suspected the entire army would come.

But he would give the Hunter as much mana as possible first. And like his father before him, nothing but death would stop him.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!