The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)
Chapter 526: Arrogance

Turned out goblin forts taken over by demons didn’t smell great. Mason wasn’t sure if abyssals or infernals were worse, but it was a bit like choosing if you’d rather drown or starve.

Drown, Streak ‘thought’ beside him, licking his lips. Wait, what’s ‘drowning’?

Sometimes Mason forgot his ‘wolf’ was really a mutant apocalypse monster with gills, and that was before it became a shapeshifter. He shook his head and pointed at a staircase leading up and down.

Phuong nodded and went on ahead to look, and Mason gestured for Carl to go on and scout through a another nearby passage. The main group of players were in a larger room, still in formation and waiting for their leaders to decide where to go.

The fort’s main level seemed to have two parts—the first a kind of barracks with bunk beds and storage rooms; the second, a rich estate filled with kitchens and servant quarters and a gathering hall. Neither part currently had many goblins.

Until they found the main hall, that is. Mason and Carl poked their heads through the open doors that led inside, scanning the large audience chamber.

It had dining tables covered in ornate silverware, several fireplaces and chests. But there was also mounds of garbage and filth streaked around the floor. Mason saw adjoining corridors, with glimpses of demonic faces pulling back from every possible hiding place.

Hundreds of goblins huddled along the walls, male and female, rich and poor. A single goblin sat in the center on an ornate throne. He was trembling so much you could see it from fifty paces. The whole place reeked of fear.

“Well, this is the trappiest trap that ever trapped,” Carl said with a sigh. “They think we’re stupid?”

“We attacked a fort from the front,” Mason said. “They think we’re arrogant.”

Carl gave him a glance and winced.

“That…might be accurate. Tell me we’re not just walking in there.”

“We’re not just walking in there.”

“OK, now tell me again in a way that makes me believe you.”

“Relax.” Mason grinned and smacked Carl on the arm hard enough to hurt. “I was thinking you could go scout around alone first.”

“What happened to ‘maybe they can smell or hear you’,” Carl muttered. “And my ribs hurt. And what’s to see? They’re obviously hiding everywhere. No reason to…”

“Shut up, I’m not sending you in alone. Just wait here, I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going?”

“Into the trap. Hold here. Be ready for a fight at the door.” Mason looked back to make sure Phuong and the others were close and ready, then he winked and walked forward.

The ‘fort king’ looked no different than the other goblins, save for being covered in sweat. He was fiddling with his hands, chest rising and falling with fast breaths.

“Who…what do you want, human?” his voice squeaked as Mason advanced. Just the sound spooked the huddled goblins against the wall.

“I’m a demon hunter,” Mason said. “Seen any lately?”

“I…” the goblin licked his lips, eyes going wild. “I wouldn’t know…I’m just…” His face scrunched up in anger. “Why have you come? And without invitation?” He perked up like he had some brilliant idea. “Leave now. You’re not welcome. Come back later!”

Mason just kept coming closer, step after step taking him towards the throne.

“That’s rude,” he said. “You asked who I am. I’m Baron Mason Wolf, soon to be a fellow king of the mountain tribe. We should sit and talk. Maybe we can be friends.”

“Stop there!” The goblin shrieked, sweat dripping down his brow. “No closer. No humans in hall! And no demons!”

Mason stopped and held out his arms in a non-threatening gesture. He could feel the magic around him now—arcane and infernal motes floating in the air, the unpleasant scent of the opposing essences bothering his nose. There were barely visible ‘strands’ of magic wrapped around the room.

The demons waited like coiled springs, the tension and delayed violence thick in the air. They wanted Mason to come forward, to set off some kind of magical trap. They were hunters, just as Dariya said. They just weren’t very good hunters.

He supposed he could provide instruction.

He flipped open his profile, gaze hovering over his Earthsoul gem. The calm before the storm, he thought, trying not to be too excited for the madness to follow. He met the goblin’s wide, dilated eyes and grinned. Then he activated the gem.

A pulse of natural power thrummed out like a thunder clap. Magical wards and energy drained and popped, crumbling as the natural anti-magic ripped them apart with ease. Mason activated Aspect of the Cheetah and raced ahead.

He grabbed the goblin ‘king’, the creature shrieking and panicking as Mason easily tossed him over a shoulder and bolted back towards the doors. Demons roared and pounced.

They rose up from behind every piece of furniture, from the huddled goblins, from the roof, the floor, the corridors beyond. Mason dropped traps as he ran, diving through the open doors as missiles and spells started hammering into the stone.

He tossed the goblin king and turned, gesturing his players forward.

“Staircase.” Phuong gestured and Mason nodded, the swordsman running up to hold the only other obvious entrance to their room.

Mason, Becky, and John all waited at the door, everyone else spread out behind. Mason summoned his bow and started loosing arrows at anything he could see, the demons shooting back with flame and spikes and God knew what, all of which bounced off Alex’s very efficient ‘ranged’ shields.

Mason grinned as his fey/abyssal arrows ripped demonic flesh. His reverberating ice arrows froze and broke these creatures, freezing a chunk where they hit then exploding it in a burst of ice and ichor.

He used his powers on cooldown, particularly happy with the shotgun-like spray of Crippling Strike with his new augment. The slow probably would have worked, too—if the shot didn’t savage his targets to death every time.

The exchange was not going well for the demons. The shooters fell away from the open door, trying to get out of Mason’s line of sight. A few others charged.

Garet and Jason’s spears jabbed over Becky’s head and impaled the first to arrive. John blasted two more back (and down) with electricity, Becky another with a ‘projected’ shield. Mason filled them all with arrows.

He saw flyers going up the stairs, and soon heard Phuong chopping at the smaller door nearby. If the creatures could get past the demon-slaying swordsman single file, they deserved to.

The assault lasted less than a minute. Again the demons fell back, but this time Mason didn’t wait. His players looked to him for instruction, and he nodded and charged inside the hall. They came out behind him in good order, spreading across the room as he and the other ranged picked off stragglers.

The bunched up flyers trapped above came howling down, met by the waiting players with a violent array of blasts and strikes. One managed to nearly hit Alex, but Annie jumped a good five feet and literally split the thing down the middle with her axe. Two chunks of splattered stone flesh landed on either side of the Belarusian, who looked at them without expression.

“Someone got the king?” Mason shouted, looking back to see Carl shove the thing forward. Mason gave him a look, but met the goblin’s eyes. “Is there a demon leader? Where is it?”

The creature looked pale, overwhelmed, lost. Mason snapped his fingers in front of its eyes, and it blinked and focused.

“Yes. In dungeon. Down the stairs. But…” the king shrugged and trailed off.

Mason supposed it made sense that demons from hell felt most comfortable going deeper down. The attacks were trailing off now, and he didn’t want to spend his day chasing after stragglers.

“Alright,” he said, in a moment of calm. “We move down the stairs and clear.” He looked at the king. “Get your people and hide somewhere safe. It won’t be long.”

The thing nodded and stared at him with baffled awe, but he was getting used to that, too.

He whistled for Phuong, then took point and waved his ‘tanks’ forward, Claws ready as he went down the narrow, spiral stairs.

A soldier demon snarled and leapt at him from below, and he smashed it in the face with a front kick so hard its neck snapped. He kicked away the corpse and descended to the bottom, seeing an even darker corridor filled with red, hate-filled eyes.

“A little light for the others,” he said.

Seamus snapped his fingers and a soft orange glow revealed a dozen demons staring down the hall. These were different again—more like mounds of walking dirt, somewhere between elementals and demons. The closest snarled and shambled forward, mouth dripping with filth and steaming acid.

“There’s space ahead,” Mason said, moving to meet it. “I’ll clear them to that. Watch our backs, Phuong. And get some mana, people. I expect we’ll need it.”

He hissed at a whining, impatient Streak, then walked towards the demons, players at his back in the narrow passage.