The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)
Chapter 523: Long live the king

The giant, angry spider dropping from the ceiling started casting a spell. Possibly several spells.

Welcome to the post-apocalypse, Mason thought wryly, almost activating his Earthsoul gem. Then he realized it would probably shut down and confuse half his players. The only Nature affinity player besides him was Demi. He’d knock out Alex and Becky’s shields and maybe get someone killed.

Instead, he yet again relied on his new Essence of the Stag—isolating himself and the spider in that critical moment of surprise. He’d let it rain down all those spells right on him, and they’d both see what happened.

Alright, he thought, bracing himself, let’s see what you’ve got.

A dozen of the creature’s beady eyes turned directly on him, so he was guessing the power worked. Its legs extended and aimed like guns, and a multi-colored series of blasts came zapping down in a cascade of nasty.

Mason decided not to dodge. Partially this was a mix of self-flagellating enjoyment of suffering, and possibly arrogance about his own toughness. Yes, he could admit that. Partially, he didn’t want to risk getting the others caught in any area of effect.

He activated Inner Fire and held up his Sleeves, expecting a long list of Apex Predator and probably titles to start…

[Apex Predator: gained elemental and arcane affinity]

[Titles: First Blood and Champion of the Arena applied.]

Half a dozen magical effects slammed down with audible power. Mason felt too many things to track—not sure if it was hot or cold or just trying to crush him into the stone. Whatever the plan, it failed.

He growled and jumped to meet the creature’s now stilted, descending charge. Four of its legs jabbed into the stone, scratching as it slowed and caught itself. The other four waved like fencing blades, two striking as Mason’s inhuman strength carried him higher than a few basketball nets.

With one sword-Claw, and one actual Claw, he met bladed spider legs. A chunk of chitinous flesh sliced off, another cracked and scraped. The other two struck Mason’s armored chest and sunk in enough to hurt. He dropped his sword and grabbed both, crushing and shredding as he held himself.

The spider chittered and brought more legs, wrapping webs with two more and glowing with more magical power. Mason decided that was enough distraction.

As his Essence of the Stag faded, he dropped and summoned his Elven Bow mid fall. He’d loosed two fire arrows before he hit the ground, watching his own missiles streak past the spider’s blast with flashing lights in the air.

Shields sizzled and hummed with power, protecting both sides in the strange, almost still moment of exchange. The other players had joined the fray.

Seamus roared with flame, screaming something about ‘fecking bugs’ before blasting a stream of constant fire. Tommaso started tossing potions. Demi glowed with magic and…probably did something.

Mason decided the dynamic was just fine. He stood and loosed every power on cooldown, watching bits of spider burst apart with fiery, reverberating explosions. The spider tried to flee, but it’s webbed twisted and burned and it dropped with a shriek.

The players all jumped or rolled without a word, the impatient melee pouncing from every direction. Little Annie buried her axe in the thing with a crackling chop. Phuong cut off a leg while the spearmen tried to skewer it from alternate sides. Even John and Becky broke bits with fists and hammer respectively.

The spider, in other words, was fucked. With a desperate skitter it grasped for a burning web, then curled up with its last legs.

Mason exploded most of its head with a power shot, grinning as Carl appeared just in time to get sprayed with goo.

“Aw come on!” He spit and shook his head. “I got some in my mouth. Again.”

“That’s what she said,” Garet snorted like he was a comic genius. But the sudden rush of adrenaline had done its work. Everyone laughed.

“Nerves o fuckin steel, eh chiefly?” Seamus smacked Mason’s shoulder and grinned.

“Just glad I noticed it in time.”

“I meant me!” Seamus beamed at anyone close. “It’s not easy holding that flame, like. See how I burned the web? Fuckin genius, lads.”

“I saw it.”

Mason couldn’t help but grin. The fire wizard had come a long way since the day they’d met. Despite all his…eccentricities, he was maybe the genuine article. A powerful, useful player, who held his nerve in a fight, and usually did what made sense. Mason did a bad Irish accent, without a hint of sarcasm.

“Feckin genius.”

“Ha!” Seamus looked around again and puffed up like one of those fish.

They took a minute to look through the corpse, just to be thorough. They found nothing, but Phuong suggested Rosa and the crafters might find some bits useful, so they hacked off a few bits and made Tommaso store them.

“Sure boss.” The squeamish Italian made a face as he took a clump of eyes. “No problem.”

“Thing died fast. For a lone raid monster and all,” Garet said.

“This isn’t actually one of your video games, my friend,” Tommaso said, getting a glare, still vanishing spider parts into the ether. “You don’t need to go chasing living things around, you just stab them in the heart.”

“I’ve got a theory about that,” Carl said, still spitting and wiping at his mouth. “I think there’s like…archetypes. Like tough creatures and killer creatures, sorta like player roles. That one was…well, a me equivalent. Sneaky, hits hard, but squishy, you know? Jesus Christ it tastes like vomity chicken.”

“I don’t wanna meet a Mason equivalent,” Becky said, giving him a wink.

He snorted, but couldn’t disagree with that. He probably had already met some—at least things that got more dangerous if you left them alive. But none had so far ‘scaled’ quite as quickly or brutally as he did.

The players harvested the spider, then Mason was about to consult his map and make another sweep of the closed off tunnels before he stopped and realized goblins were watching at every grate.

“Uh, Mason. They’re watchin’ us.” Becky whispered, apparently noticing, too.

Some of the goblins shrunk away at the attention. But most just stood there, faces pushed up against the metal, hands curled around the bars. They were pressed up like there were dozens all fighting for a glance. They stared and blinked and looked between the dead spider and the players with gaunt faces and desperate eyes.

Mason walked to the closest and searched for a lock but saw nothing. It seemed as if the grate had been made from the ‘demon’ side and with no way to open it. He gripped the metal and pulled.

Eventually the whole thing came ripping out from the stone. Goblins shrieked and panicked, scurrying back to get away. Mason tossed away the grate and moved to the next, growling as he strained and ripped them one by one.

He could feel some concern from the players now. The goblins were creeping out to watch, and inspect, mostly to stare. Mason ripped open every grate, then walked back to the middle of the cavern and felt a sense of relief. He didn’t have a ‘plan’. He just wasn’t going to stand there beside an undeserved prison and do nothing.

“You’re free,” he said. “We’re looking for a vault. Somewhere the demons are holding children. Is that here? We’ll get them out.”

Some of the goblins were coming closer, shuffling on hands and knees with arms extended, eyes lowered, as if trying to touch him. He didn’t know what to do so he just stood there, and soon he was surrounded by sniffling, weeping goblins.

“Lord of Goblins,” said one, taking his hand with a fang-filled smile. “Human saves us. Human champion. Protects goblins?”

“We’re not here to hurt you,” Mason said, uncomfortable but not sure what to do. “We’re here for the demons. If you can show us where to go, we’ll deal with them.”

“Yes,” said another goblin, looking at its fellows with wide, amazed eyes. “We will show. Yes? Show spider killers. Demon slayers. Lord of goblins. Then, we’ll be strong. We’ll be safe. We make champion king! King of mountain tribe!”

The other goblins whooped and cheered and started hugging. There were tears in their red eyes, hope on their dirty faces. Mason was at such a loss he didn’t know what to say, and couldn’t get a word in over the noise anyway. Text scrolled across his screen.

[Defeat the Infernal Jailor. Reward: Become King of the Outer Razor Mountain Goblin tribe.]

Mason had been through many strange experiences in the post-apocalypse, that was for sure. But as he looked back at the other people with a shrug, then glanced at the growing horde of goblins dropping to their feet, he was pretty sure this ranked right up there.

“Goblin king!” chanted a growing chorus. “Goblin king! Goblin king!”