The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 112: That’s a lot of bone

Graak smiled as he tasted more of his enemy's blood.

The wizard had attacked his force by the river, using his arrows and magic to hide and strike like the coward he was. But Graak's warriors were ready for such things. They held their ground and flushed him out with their rogues and weapons. They struck him with knives, arrows and spears, and now they chased him through the trees, finding bloody hand prints in an obvious trail.

Graak had taken to swiping the blood and licking his fingers. He was close now. Very close. To his enemy, and to his prize.

"All rogues and riders!" he shouted. "He is wounded. Chase him, slow him down."

The Struthio riders whistled and charged ahead, the three remaining rogues creeping away on their own. Graak and his infantry followed.

He knew by the horn blasts that the other half of his forces had found the civilians. Good news, but mostly irrelevant. Patron points were nothing compared to the lordship of a tower. All that mattered was the wizard.

Step by step he followed his prey, knowing even the scent of his blood now. By the path it was clear he was running to his allies near the mountain. But he would find no protection there.

Graak’s most loyal and competent warriors held their formation all around him, trekking through the trees and soon the hills and sparser forest. They heard fighting ahead, and Graak almost laughed as he emerged.

Human champions and civilians were surrounded, battling a fraction of his forces, looking hard pressed even to do that. Several warriors had surrounded one man who looked half dead already, a herd of women and the pestering wolf hiding behind him.

It seemed there were other champions now. Had they come from the settlement, and would it be completely weakened when they died, ready for the taking?

They looked powerful enough and ready to fight, but there were too few. Here they didn't have the halls and defences of their settlement. They would face the might and superior numbers of the Blacktusk tribe on open ground. And soon they would die.

Graak walked forward, still not seeing his prey, but content to slaughter his allies until they found him. Then the air shook and silenced with magic power, and like all orcs, Graak smelled it on the air, and felt it in his bones.

He faltered and held back his retainers as a pulse of magic emerged from the human champions, connecting to many warriors in the clearing like strands of spider web.

“The wizard!” Some of the effected orcs cried, grasping their heads as if in agony. Graak truly cursed the death of his shaman now, wishing suddenly he had waited for his uncle’s slower forces and replaced him. But it was just one spell.

It flashed and loosed, and the connected orcs all stumbled and stared before growling and turning on each other with hatred in their eyes. They screamed their loyalty to the gods, and attacked their clansmen.

[New Objective: Kill the human champion known as Blake Nimitz. Receive overlordship of the Blacktusk Clan.]

Graak blinked and stared at the words in disbelief. Another command from the gods? Another gift, and control of the entire clan?! In all his years he had never heard of such generous rewards.

He looked at the humans and knew his target in ways that didn’t seem possible, the knowledge too imparted clearly by the gods. He knew the man’s face as well as childhood friends. He knew his abilities, his physical frailties.

Psion. The word practically swam through his veins. Mind wizards were the most hated champions known to orcs—beings that could warp hearts and minds like a potter's clay. To be…taken in such a way, turned against your people with no control. It was a fate worse than death.

Rage seethed in Graak's heart. To see loyal warriors betrayed, a lifetime of discipline and servitude erased by unnatural magic. Loyal orcs who had served the tower all their lives killing each other likes foes, used like pawns and puppets.

"Kill these wizards!" he roared to his warriors. "Avenge our kin whose minds are stolen! Forgive them, and avenge them. For the tower. For our brothers. Kill these evil creatures, and bring me their heads!"

Graak's warriors roared in rage and defiance. Most of his forces were still behind him in the trees, including all his Chosen—the elite of the Blacktusk clan walked from the trees with broad shields and spears at the ready, hatred bubbling in their breasts.

Graak did not know where the lightning spewing wizard had gone, but even that didn’t matter now. They would find him soon enough. But first Graak would kill this Psion, put his vile head on a spike, and claim his glory.

* * *

Mason watched the battle from his camouflage in the trees, looking for the enemy's leader. If he could kill him, perhaps, he could weaken the enemy's resolve. He watched the forces arrayed against them and tried not to despair. There were so bloody many of them.

[New objective gained: Kill Graak, leader of the Blacktusk orc tribal forces. Reward: choose one power to advance to Tier 2.]

Tier 2? His powers upgraded on their own, too? And how was he supposed to know which specific orc was Graak? These things pretty much all looked like their name was Graak. Or possibly Ug.

Blake and the others had almost miraculously arrived, and were slaughtering orcs as they moved to protect Carl and the girls. For a moment, at least, things seemed to be going well enough. So Mason watched, and waited.

Finally the largest group of orcs emerged. Large not just in number, but in size. They were at least seven feet tall, most dressed in an array of armor and clothing with no particular uniform. But as a one of their number stepped out from the trees with bone helmet and a spiked club the size of a man, Mason knew his target.

He activated Nature’s Wrath, watching as the creature's anatomy lit up like an x-ray before his eyes.

Dear God that’s a lot of bone!

These orcs had more ribs than fingers and toes, and they were tightly packed and covered their sides, too. So the heart was basically out. The thing and its bodyguards wore metal gorgets around their necks, and most wore helmets of some kind.

No wonder they hadn't been dying to his arrows. Most of their organs were practically surrounded by a cage of bone, and they wore plenty of armor, too. A quick kill with his bow was impossible. He doubted even a well-placed Power Shot would manage it.

So it was sword work, then, sooner or later. He’d have to hack the creature’s limbs off or wear it down until he could strike at the least protected places on its torso.

Mason glanced at Blake and his people bringing down orcs down left and right. He grinned when he saw Phuong and Garet, and finally Rebecca. She was at the front doing what she did best—absorbing everything the orcs could throw at her. But he blinked and looked away, trying not to become distracted. He was hoping he could get to Seul-ki for a boost, but it didn't seem practical.

He had a job to do, and it was straight forward, if difficult.

He looked at the new power from Gaia's Avatar, and clenched his teeth. He'd seen the incredible power of Carl's prestige class and knew his own must be equally powerful. He had an intuitive sense of how it worked, but nothing more. He could choose an enemy, or he could choose himself, and activate it. That was it.

But he understood that the power of nature mattered. The forest would help him, the life all around, the rain and the storm and the lightning. He watched the sky and did something that felt very strange, but maybe more reasonable than it ever had in his life. He prayed to ‘God’.

After all, there was some AI that controlled everything out there, he knew that for a fact. He'd never been a religious person, never sure if there was some creator out there listening or not. And though it was strange to consider, even stranger to ask the thing that did all this to mankind, the truth was—at least he knew it there was. It was listening.

Give me a storm, Mason thought as he closed his eyes and spoke to the void as he summoned his Claw. He kept Duality of Life in his mind and clutched his nymph charm in his other hand.

Come on, roboGod, keep shitting on us with everything you’ve got. This time I want it.