The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 410: Ready for anything

"I’m feckin’ out.”

Seamus flopped into a chair on the House’s balcony, then jumped up again and paced.

Mason winced, still trying to get the taste of blood out of his mouth, and also trying not to want more.

“What happened?”

“Some rat bastard.” The Irishman punched the air and went to spit before glancing at a nearby system servant and rolling his eyes. “I dunno who. Some Brazilian guy. He wouldn’t feckin’ burn.”

Phuong frowned and gave Mason a look.

“It’s one of the emperor’s elite. He’s very bad for casters. I believe he can change his affinity, like you. For someone like Seamus, with a single strategy, he is probably unbeatable.”

“What the fuck you say?” Seamus said, eyes still wild with rage.

“I mean no offense,” Phuong said. “But you have a single element. If it isn’t effective, you have no alternative.”

“Take a walk, Seamus,” Mason said, suddenly glad for the Neutral Zone’s rules. “We’re your allies. We’re your friends. We just need to figure out strategy.”

The Irishman threw up his hands and walked away, still punching invisible enemies. Mason sighed.

“Anyone else?”

“Tommaso’s out,” Carl said. “Everyone else is still good, I think.”

“Alex? Becky?”

Both nodded, though Becky winced. “I had to beat down some tank. It wasn't pretty, but…yeah.”

Mason nodded and squeezed her leg.

“OK. Their rogue is down. I saw the end of Blake’s fight, and their wizard is down. That basically leaves the emperor and that Brazilian guy. Besides the affinity thing, what does he do? Anyone watching his fights?”

“He's a martial warrior,” Phuong explained, “able to summon many kinds of weapons and armor. He seems to adapt to his foe. Very skilled and dangerous. But I think I can defeat him with speed and a superior blade. Carl shouldn't have any trouble. You, of course. Anyone else...”

"That impressive?" Mason said, a bit surprised.

"Unfortunately, I believe so, Patron. He's exceptionally strong and fast. I don't think Becky will be able to harm him well enough. Our lower level physical players will be outmatched."

Mason nodded and grit his teeth.

"There is more bad news," Phuong said, nodding to Garet.

"Two other powerful players," said the younger man, blushing a bit at the attention as usual. "One from the east. Not part of the capital. Must be some other settlement or maybe a nomadic type, maybe? He's a, uh, hybrid? Bit like Carl, I guess, except less uh...subtle. Magic attacks. Defences. Shield and spear. Don't think many of us could beat him."

"Super,” Mason said. “Hope we can recruit him. And the other?"

Garet looked at Tommaso.

"She's the one," he said miserably. "Wasn't even close, boss. Some kind of naturey class like you. Caster maybe. Truth is I don't know what happened, eh? Was pretty good terrain, but there were..mushrooms, or I don’t know, something. Was this filthy, damp dungeon thing. I couldn't see, then everything was exploding and my throat, my eyes, all burning. Then a thing smashes me, just like that."

Garet cleared his throat and spoke again.

"I watched her in a few other matches after Tommaso. Hybrid caster. Maybe a druid like you, but not really sure. Nature for sure though."

"Where's she from?" Mason asked, and everyone shrugged.

It got him a little excited because maybe that meant the west. Which meant maybe a proper recruit he could actually get without figuring out teleportation devices. He turned to Haley but she was already bringing up a profile.

"We have lists now. Tier one. No patron titles. I can start trying to make contact."

"Do that." Mason leaned back in his chair trying to process. That made for what? Six players in the whole world on reasonable comparison to Mason's strongest players?

The emperor. That 'shadow' rogue Mason dealt with. The Swede that gave Blake trouble. This nature woman. The arcane/warrior hybrid. The Brazilian warrior. Four were left in the tournament.

Technically, the top ten people got some kind of prize, but Mason had no doubt the top five would be a hell of a lot better than the rest. Ultimately, there wasn't much he could do.

It would be pure luck that determined who fought who, so all he could do was hope they matched him or Blake against the toughest competition before the weaker players, buying them a chance at the top.

As long as Mason could truly beat this emperor, of course. If he couldn't, not much else mattered.

"Get some rest," he said. "I don't see them giving us much time."

"Figure it's teams next, boss?" said Seamus. "Least I'm still in the fecking thing."

Mason nodded. "But who the hell knows. Just..."

"Be ready for anything," said half his players. Mason snorted.

"Yeah. That."

The rest laughed, and a few people excused themselves to head back to their rooms. Becky cuddled up to Mason on the couch and closed her eyes, promising only a five minute nap. The rest opened their own personal screens or operated the ones on their tables, obviously watching other player fights.

Mason touched Becky and let his mind drift, sipping a drink as he started watching each of the emperor's matches in his profile. They were all the same.

Short. Brutal. One sided to the point of triviality. He hadn't given anyone the same 'treatment' he gave John, executing his opponents with ruthless efficiency, no sign of cruelty or pleasure.

But it didn't hide what he was from Mason. This one wasn't mindless, wasn't a slave to violent impulses. He was cold, calculating, patient. But he was a monster all the same.

Mason forced himself to watch the man break John's body again and again, the emperor's final look towards the 'camera' at the top of the arena, a smile curling his lips.

Mason didn't know much. But he knew one way or another he was going to wipe the smile off that man's face.

It was less than an hour before the system warning blared and silenced the promenade. Becky jerked awake, all the other players blinking back to reality as the screens blanked.

[Greetings, players. Your next team match will take place in: 5 minutes. Please prepare yourselves, and good luck!]

Mason met the eyes of his players one by one and nodded, giving them a grin.

"Nothing left to think about, gentlemen. You're the best teams in the game. Go act like it."

"I hope we get that mushroom bitch," Tommaso said, and Carl snorted.

"Why? Want to watch me deal with her for you?"

"OK old man," Tommaso actually went a little red. "I listen to a lot, ah? But a man can only take so much. So why don't you take your fucking little dagger and..."

"Save it, both of you," Mason said, his tone short and sharp enough it hit both men like a whip. "It's life and death in four minutes. I don't care if it's fake. Get it together. I'll see you after."

Carl nodded and cleared his throat, looking suitably chastised. Tommaso at least held his tongue.

Mason watched the final minutes tick down with a mostly blank mind, not fearing any 'friendly' fights in his category. In the twos, there was only him, and enemies. It made life so wonderfully simple.

This time he decided to call Streak before the he vanished, wanting the wolf beside him in the moments before a fight. Streak knew the score by now and said nothing, his quiet strength a source of comfort, his bright, eager eyes a reflection of Mason's in more ways than one.

Then the final 'beep' arrived, and the false safety of the Neutral Zone vanished, Becky mouthing 'good luck' in the final second before they all went away.

* * *

Mason summoned Streak again in the holding cell this time. Mostly just because he missed him.

"What's it like where you are, eh boy?" he said scratching his face and ears enough the creature closed it eyes and growled in pleasure. "Are you just frozen or something when you're not with me?"

Streak didn't understand the question. And also didn't care. He just turned to get Mason's useful ape fingers into the itchiest spots as they both waited for another fight to the death. As usual there was nothing to prepare, nothing to say or do except wait. Mason finally rose up out of the ground with considerable surprise.

It was a natural setting. He heard bird calls, smelled grass and trees and possibly water. It was the first time in the arena he'd been given a natural setting, but he supposed even he got the good end of the stick sometimes.

The system had clearly been giving his opponents terrain that suited them, doing its best to 'even' the odds. Possibly his opponent was ‘natural’, maybe this mushroom woman that had beaten Tommaso.

But the thought stopped him as he considered the alternative: maybe it decided this time he was at a disadvantage.

This didn't seem likely, though. It could only be true if he was fighting the emperor. Which he supposed was possible due to the 'randomized' fights. But knowing roboGod…

Their synthetic overlord loved drama. You didn't put your two heavy-weight champs against each other before the finale. You saved it for the end.

Whatever the reason, Mason moved out over the mostly flat, high grass with a smile, senses sharp and tuned for any sign of change. Streak soon sniffed and warned of something ahead.

That ‘something’ stood in the open, unmoving, maybe waiting for Mason. Streak hunched down, so big now he struggled to 'creep' up on much of anything. Both he and Mason camouflaged themselves with his Sleeves and their Fang Brothers bond, moving slowly to take a look.

There was a figure standing in a shorter patch of grass on some rocks. Mason moved a little closer with his bow ready, focusing until he had a better view. He realized he'd stopped breathing as he recognized the man. It was Jeong.

The 'emperor of the world’ stood on a flat rock wearing something like a martial arts gi. He was looking up at the sky with his hands behind his back, seemingly admiring the view.

"I have very good hearing," he called. "I can't see you. But I know you're here somewhere. It is you, isn't it?" The man smiled. "Oh your arrogance is astounding. Had you faced me alone I think your chances were already poor. But the two of us?" He laughed. "My cautious friend doesn't like your bow. He's in hiding."

"I am not hiding," said a gruff voice from somewhere near Jeong. "One of us needs to pay attention to tactics. And it's not going to be you, is it?"

"Right as usual,” said Jeong happily. “We should do things properly." The short Korean held out his arms. "We're ready when you are, Baron. The world will be watching. I have to tell you, I've been looking forward to this. We may make a kind of peace here today, don't you think? Remove all doubt as to the future of man, without taking a single human life. It's almost...elegant."

Mason took a deep breath and met Streak's eyes. He smiled as the creature whined, sensing his intent.

"Next time, buddy," he said, returning him with his dismissal power.

Mason felt a weight lift as the animal vanished, no possibility of being hurt and used as a weapon by the sadistic Jeong. And it was important this went how Mason had intended.

He stood, unsummoning his bow and summoning his Claws, stepping out and dropping his camouflage until Jeong noticed him.

The 'emperor' smiled, looking pleasantly surprised.

"A mistake, I think, to show yourself. You might have at least done some damage before I caught you."

"I don't need tricks to beat you. I don’t even need weapons."

Mason got rid of his Claws, too, fighting the grin as the emperor’s expression changed.

"Today you’re going to break your own rules,” Mason said. “You’re going to lose, and then you’re going to surrender."

Jeong stared, and he wasn't smiling anymore. He stepped off the rock, flickering with golden light. He charged like a man-sized freight train.

As his enemy rushed, for a small moment Mason wondered if he was indeed a stupid, arrogant, lunatic—if his 'plan' here was crazy. If he was about to get stomped into the dirt and break the morale of his whole continent.

But the thought passed through him, dust blown off into a foreign sea. Then it struck him as almost…funny.

As usual, as violence loomed, all of Mason's fears died away. His body filled with anticipation, his muscles reacting before his conscious mind told them what to do.

He wasn’t really doing this for some calculated result. It didn’t matter if he won or lost. His girls were right. He really was a 'sheep dog' made to protect the herd from wolves.

…and giant worms. And dragons and mind-controlling bug queens. And monsters in the shape of men.

Mason wasn't afraid because win or lose he was doing exactly what he was supposed to be doing—what he was built for by some cosmic hand, far before roboGod.

It was a very soothing thought. That no matter how they manipulated him, however he might fray at the edges, what he was had been set in stone.

Long before the apocalypse, facing down monsters was what Mason had been born to do. And it was time to get to work.