The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 113: Must be a boss

Considering Carl expected to be dead, the battle was going extremely well. His new heroic band of allies had hacked and stabbed their way into the main cluster of orcs, killing them with ruthless efficiency.

Translucent blue Star Trek shields were popping up all over, seemingly from some kind of cowboy hatted hotty in the front with a plastic frisbee.

Then there was a tiny thing with a big axe, screaming like a banshee as she made the occasional orc into lumber.

On either side of her were two bigger men—one maybe older than Carl carrying a sword, the other younger with a big spear. Both waved them around like they mostly knew what they were doing, sending all kinds of sparkling lights and phantom weapons to skewer their enemies.

“Stay in a line, y’all!” yelled the Frisbee-wielding cowgirl. “You’re gettin’ ahead of my shields!”

Carl mostly just watched and nursed his wounded shoulder, but Streak was whining and growling slightly at his side, and he looked at the wolf and rolled his eyes.

“Oh fine, I’ll go help. But you stay here and guard my girls!”

Before he had much of a chance to reconsider, he Shadow Leapt down to a line of orcs with their attention turned to the new arrivals, and started showing them the error of their ways.

His Mirror Shard remained ridiculous. In fact it felt like a light saber just with a quarter the blade. As usual it cut through armor and flesh and bone like it was all pretty much the same wet tissue paper, and Carl stalked down the line ruining limbs and lives.

When several of the orcs turned and gave him the proper attention he deserved, he dropped an Exploding Clone and Shadow Leapt over to the other players for a little reprieve.

“Hi,” he said to the startled and vaguely concerned players at the back. “I’m Carl.”

They all flinched as the explosion rocked the orc line. Then the blonde leader grinned.

“Very nice to meet you, Carl. I’m Blake, this is Seul-ki and Alex. If you’re not too distracted, could we give this man a little heal before he bleeds out?”

The man they called Alex blinked and stepped forward to grab Carl’s arm roughly and without expression. Then a beautiful, soothing warmth flowed up his limb and spread like warm water over his exhausted, beaten body, especially focusing on his stab wound.

“Oh sweet Jesus.” Carl felt his eyes flutter with pleasure at the feeling, then his somewhat round-faced savior stepped away and went right back to looking locked in concentration. “Wow. Thanks. I had no idea that was a thing.” He flexed his hand and found he could actually use it now with only minor agony.

“I wouldn’t go getting any organs ripped up,” said Blake pleasantly. “But yes, Alex here can at least keep you in the fight.” Then the young man’s smile dropped slightly and he leaned forward. “Where’s Mason?”

Carl sagged slightly at the question.

“I was hoping he was with you.”

Everyone but Blake ducked as a spear and a few arrows flew in their general direction, then all fell down a few feet away.

“He is not.” Blake perked back up and winked. “But not to worry. He’s likely to turn up just when we need him. Which…might be…soon…”

Carl followed the young man’s eyes to another large group of orcs emerging in formation from the trees. These were even larger and more armored than the generally large creatures. At their front was a massive orc carrying a ludicrously sized club, his face wrapped in a spiked bone helm.

“I don’t suppose you can…make that one kill the others? Like you did with some of these?” Carl said without enthusiasm.

“Just tried. Can’t even touch him.” Blake’s eyes glowed slightly then faded.

“Must be a boss,” they more or less said together, then exchanged a look and a troubled grin.

“Fifty per cent mana, ya’ll,” yelled the cowgirl at the front, where the orc line had mostly shattered as the players hacked them apart. The spearman even cheered before he looked over and saw the larger force coming on. The girl looked back towards Blake. “What do we do?”

The young man took a deep breath and smiled as he looked at all the eyes turned his way. “We keep going. Same tactics. Hold the line. Kill them all.”

The cowgirl nodded and rolled her shoulders, taking position at the front as the line of orcs slowly advanced and curled as if it meant to wrap around and surround them.

The players looked concerned, but surprisingly brave as they waited to meet the new group. But Carl was too old and cynical to be fooled by the confident young man’s command. He looked terrified.

“I’ll see you after.” Carl put a hand on Blake’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. He almost said ‘kid’ but got the feeling this one wouldn’t appreciate it. Then he turned and cracked his neck as he mentally scrolled through his powers and re-formed his blade.

All that armor wouldn’t help these bastards one bit. And it seemed almost time for Simulacrum. He’d be basically drained, but it’d likely be worth it.

The orcs and players squared off without violence for a few tense seconds. Then the orcs threw javelins and axes and dozens of missile weapons, all of which struck blue shield and sizzled and clanged as they all fell uselessly to the ground.

Then with a fierce roar of what could only be called hatred, the front row of big creatures charged.

“Use everything!” Blake shouted from behind them. “Now’s the time! Every useful power you’ve got!”

Spears materialized in a veritable wall guarding the player’s flanks. More flashes of light emerged as the older swordsman cut some kind of figure eight in the air and blasted a wave of energy. The little thing with the axe was making chasms of red light in the air as she screamed and charged through.

Carl was pretty inspired by it all, if he was honest. He felt a little like they were all vaguely shitty Avengers. But a shitty Avenger was still pretty good.

There were still orcs trying to move around the players, and he decided to make those his special mission. He activated his improved stealth and started heading for the flankers, then flinched as lightning struck the nearby trees.

He blinked and shielded his eyes, only to see another flash. And then another. As the bolts lit the dark as clear as day, he felt a horrible weight lift from his shoulders.

There in the trees he saw Mason watching the battle, his green sword swinging back and forth in his hands, eyes practically glowing in the dark. Carl could have sworn that second bolt hit him, and couldn’t help but smile.

“Graak, chieftain of the Blacktusk Clan!” yelled an almost feral voice from Mason’s direction.

Carl felt his looming death was a good deal less likely today, and not for the first time, very glad he was that young man’s friend.