The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)
Chapter 520: The Watcher

Even Mason couldn’t block four swords. He parried two and stopped a third on one Sleeve, but the fourth slashed into his hip with a wet thud. He growled and attacked, ignoring the pain and grinning when the demon pulled back in surprise.

Transformation went to work, and in the back of his mind he pictured his bones hardening like a skeletal shield. All the thing had was slashing blades. He didn’t give a shit how much skin and flesh it cut, as long as it couldn’t finish him.

Let it hack away while he stitched himself together. They’d learn who bled out first.

Green and red blades flashed through the air like concert lights. Mason and the demon stared in equal concentration as they weaved and swung, both scoring hits until Streak grabbed the demon’s tail and literally started dragging it.

Again it coiled around in a rage, but Mason’s Stag Essence was ending now. The world came back in a rush, and from every direction players were roaring and striking. The demon twisted, trying to stop the weapons and maybe find an opening.

Spear walls flared up around them as the players closed. Mason felt magic crawling over him and shivered, fighting the urge to scratch. He wasn’t sure what the demon was doing but he was surprised he hadn’t seen any of his resistances. But he was too busy to care.

He jabbed his longer blade deep into the snake body, raking a Clawed hand up as high as he could reach. Only when he saw his bloody arm did he realize Demi was doing…something. He was covered in some kind of plant growth.

“It’s channeling!” Seamus yelled over the insanity. “A teleport, I think!”

Great, Mason thought. But at least the demon trying to escape was a good sign. He considered using his Earth Soul gem but resisted the urge. They could always hunt it down—much better to use it to protect someone’s life.

A familiar, red circle flared on the stone floor, very much like the abyssal portals that had arrived near Nassau, and Mason regretted his decision.

The demon wasn’t trying to escape. It was bringing in support.

A huge ‘soldier’ demon started to form, this one maybe twelve feet tall and hunched as his head scraped the goblin hall’s roof.

“Phuong, switch targets!” Mason called, still spilling ichor as he rammed his sword into the demon’s huge body.

“We got it, chiefy.”

Hissing flame and the sound of breaking glass focused on the new arrival, and Mason hoped the ranged and maybe Becky could keep it busy. He kept slashing and distracting, trying to keep the demon’s insanely fast arms busy so the others could keep attacking too.

He knew he could leap on it and rely on his Duality and regeneration to maybe let him crush the creature to death. But his players were holding their own, and he needed to let them struggle and adapt. He kept where he was, trying to act like just another powerful melee player in a team, rather than someone solo.

Streak howled in pain from God knew how many hits, pulling back to get away. Mason let him go, not activating Shared Pain yet. Alex’s distinct shields were bouncing blows off the others now, and Becky was either totally out or fighting with their new friend.

The itch covering Mason’s body was getting worse, but he also felt stronger. Faster. The demon’s four blades were becoming the most intense game of whack-a-mole ever, but Mason was going for the high score. He saw the fear in its eyes now, the understanding that its enemy wasn’t tiring, wasn’t going down. That maybe it wasn’t the hunter here.

“Bargain…” it hissed, still twisting and fending off the many weapons ripping bits and pieces of it away.

Mason only pushed harder, and his players got the message. Spears, swords, an axe, and flaming missiles blew off chunks of demon flesh, spraying foul ichor across the stone.

The big soldier demon was trying to help, but Mason saw Becky and John zapping and smashing it with bolts of energy and projected shield. It couldn’t get closer, no matter how it tried, only able to watch the other battle.

Its four-armed master went to three arms from a vicious Exploiting Strike, then two from a slash from Phuong. With a final howl of rage, it extended its remaining two arms and looked upwards, body steaming with red mist.

“Take cover!” Mason shouted, not sure what was about to happen.

Either way, he kept hacking—jamming his sword straight into the creature’s exposed ‘human’ chest as the other players fell back.

It didn’t explode, as predicted—a red ‘eye’ opened above its head, round and lidless as it stared. The dangerous demon collapsed into a disgusting pile of steaming goo. The eye looked right at Mason, then vanished.

[Lesser Marilith killed. Group experience awarded.]

[Title gained: Infernal Enemy. You have slain a leader of the infernal armies. It has not gone unnoticed. Increased planar slaying aura.]

[House Title gained: Infernal Enemies. Your house has slain a leader of the infernal armies. It has not gone unnoticed. Increased planar slaying aura for all players in the House of Mason.]

Mason turned for the ‘marilith’s’ summoned ally, but it faded as its summoner died. That was good to know. He took a breath and searched his players for major wounds, but saw he and Streak had taken the worst of it. He scratched the itchy wounds and plucked a plant or two growing out of his skin.

“Sorry,” Demi said, looking him over and fiddling with her hands. “I know it’s…but it helped, I think.”

“Everyone together, defensive circle,” Mason called, “ranged in the middle. There might be more.”

The players moved instantly, but everyone looked OK. Carl slumped to a sit and groaned, and Alex knelt down beside him.

“I’m alright,” he said. “She just hit me with her tail. But uh, my second chance thing went off. Pretty sure it saved my ass.”

His shoulder had a pretty bad gash, too. Though he didn’t seem to notice.

“Drink.” Alex forced one of Rosa’s potions into the rogue’s mouth, some light flaring off his hand as he waved it over the man’s chest. He grunted, then glanced at Mason. “Some bleeding inside. OK now. But maybe be careful.”

Carl spit blood and frowned as he made a face.

“Why does it have to taste like cough syrup? I hate cough syrup.”

“Feel free to complain to Rosa when we get back.” Mason grinned, scanning with Ranger’s Mark and trying not to be concerned at the bruised rib muscle he saw. “Maybe you can fight with her and Sylvie at the same time. Mana check.”

Carl groaned and lay flat, waving Alex away. Seamus was still pretty much full mana. Demi said she would be shortly. Alex said he was roughly half. Becky was down to 20%. They were fine if they didn’t have some massive fight coming up. But the dungeon didn’t seem over…

“Where’s the fecking little goblin shite?” Seamus muttered. “Never said nothin’ about some eight-armed demon harlet, now did he?”

“He did not,” Phuong agreed, with a glance at Mason. “We should assume everything he told us was false, or at least partial truth, Patron.”

Mason nodded. He assumed everything anyone told him was partial truth, and wondered if it was from a lifetime with Blake, or just his personality.

“It’s possible he didn’t know. But I don’t think it makes a difference. And this place is still a shit show. Let’s pick a defensive point to rest the mana types, then explore the area, and put down any more demon or goblin resistance. We’ll figure out where to go from there.”

Phuong nodded and gestured one by one for Annie, Tommaso, and the spearmen.

“Take Demi, too,” Mason said, and the ex-soldier nodded. The pack of six was up and moving, Demi with a quick glance at Mason. He did his best to nod some approval, then led the others to a corner and got them settled while he activated Shared Pain and groaned with fresh agony.

“Seriously,” he said, grabbing Streak’s head to look in his eyes. “Dodge. Weave. Why is this so difficult?”

The wolf whined and licked his lips, pulling away and maybe sticking out his tongue. Mason sighed and waited until he wasn’t covered in open wounds. But whatever Demi had done definitely helped. He put an arm around Becky and pulled her in without a word as they all settled nerves in their own ways.

Mason drank from his flask and the others followed, and more and more he felt their eyes and attention. He knew everything he did and said mattered more now, that he was watched for signs of concern, for comfort and direction.

He listened to Phuong and the others moving and taking down a few targets, ready to sprint at any sign of trouble. But the hall had cleared out fast when the real fighting started. He thought about the fresh titles and the lidless eye, wondering what exactly had been watching.

Was it the ‘final boss’ of the dungeon? Was it some infernal god? Was it ‘Yalor’ himself?

He winced, feeling like everything with Jeong and the east was stupidity and distraction. The enemies of man, the real enemies, were these creatures coming from some other world. They were world-breaking ‘gods’ coming to destroy them. And the synthetic one above it all, who played with them all like toys.

But he needed those players. As many as he could get. He needed the threat of Jeong removed so he could focus all his attention on improving humanity’s strength, and uniting it against the real enemies. And he had to do it before it was too late.

He stood with his wounds near fully healed, his shapeshifted body heavy with hardened bone and thickened flesh.

“Good enough. I’ll help scout the hall,” he said, squeezing Becky’s arm, pushing her back with a head shake when she tried to stand. “Don’t worry, country girl. We’ll need your strength soon.”

She smiled and lay back, eyes closed in seconds. Mason took a second to admire her ever-growing courage, then moved out through the chaos of the dead goblin king’s hall.