The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 121: Error. Desist.

Gromsh dropped Farak, lord of the Red Tower to the stone tiles. The big orc choked and spasmed as he died, throat crushed in Gromsh's fist. He had always been the strongest and most stubborn of the tower lords.

"Are there any more objections." Gromsh said without the hint of a question. Then he stepped over Farak and stared at the lord’s eldest son and other kin at the lesser tables in the hall. "You can be lord of the Red Tower, Harak. Or I can find some other orc who wants power. The choice is yours."

Harak slowly nodded, his eyes still on the broken corpse of his sire. It helped that Gromsh had allowed the powerful warrior to stab him several times before lifting him in the air and crushing his throat.

He was even more powerful than he first thought. The God's had blessed him with power not seen in the race of orcs in their entire history. He was twice the size of the largest warrior in the hall, his skin hard as stone, his strength impossible. And though he would not reveal it to his minions, he could feel his body pulse with mana, his mind filled with arcane knowledge that would put the High Shaman to shame.

"So it is decided." Gromsh stepped to the edge of the hall. "Every tower lord will report to me here, daily, at this time. Now go. Ready your warriors. I may call for them soon."

He walked out without another word, having decided already he would appoint his other nephew as lord of the Black Tower. Better to be ‘apart’, or else slowly the terror would fade as the resentment built, and they would rebel, as was their nature.

Instead he would make the abandoned hall his throne—the ancient dungeon where once his kind kept a demon prisoner in the Age of the Heavens, before the Makers had gone.

There he would lead the race of orcs to new heights, spreading across the continent, wiping out any who opposed them. They would subdue the Great Worms and end the sacrifices, crush the insectoids, the humans, and even the underground. With the help of the gods, soon it would be the age of the orc.

Gromsh stepped out from the central hall and gloried in the sunlight. Like all orcs the brightness bothered his eyes, but today he did not care. He stretched his strong, healthy legs, then strode to the edge of the towers, ignoring the bowing guards as he made for the open gate.

[Error. Unable to leave Tower Dungeon zone without enhanced admin system attention. Desist.]

Pain lanced up Gromsh's previously crippled leg and into his chest. He roared and stopped moving, the pain diminishing slightly with every step back towards the walls and the towers. He stared at the divine messages appearing before his eyes with incomprehension.

[Error.] More angry red commands from the gods spiraled before Gromsh's eyes. [Desist. Return to the tower grounds immediately.]

Gromsh was forced to limp back like the cripple he had been all his life. The agony only ended once he had moved entirely back within the gates of the towers. The trembling guards who had stood watch did their best to look anywhere but at Gromsh as he clutched his chest and panted.

What was happening to him? Did this mean the gods had trapped him in the tower?

He clenched his teeth and fists in impotent rage, wanting to scream why?, knowing it made no difference. It seems their gift had come with a cost—their use for him more specific than he had anticipated.

He could unite the orcs as he had begun already. He could protect the holy stones and guide his people from his throne. But he would never lead their conquests. Not if he could never leave the towers.

So much glory lost in a moment. Why give him such power if not to use it! And how could he know what was happening outside his walls? How could he defeat the foes he had promised the gods to kill?

[Power gained: Objective Scrying. Observe the mortal enemies of your gods.]

Gromsh blinked in amazement, instantly activating his new divine power. The world vanished before his eyes and re-appeared in a world of green and brown. He squinted and stared at a forest, seeing a line of human champions walking through the trees.

Not only could he observe them, he could hear them perfectly, listening as they talked and laughed. They spoke of killing orcs so quickly they'd be home for supper. They spoke of a human settlement and conquering its walls.

Gromsh watched, and listened, his perception moving and circling with perfect clarity. Soon he found his true targets.

He knew them instantly by sight though he had never seen them. One fair-haired and blue eyed, the other...the other...Gromsh blinked and grimaced as his other enemy blurred and brightened. His mana visibly sagged.

"Wait," said Mason Nimitz, the larger warrior, his strange eyes flicking left and right and glowing like blazing green torches. "Apex Predator is going crazy. Do you feel that?"

"I don't feel anything, brother," Blake Nimitz frowned.

Watching this man was like staring at the sun. Gromsh flinched and looked away, dropping his power as he saw he'd lost half his mana in seconds. But he had heard enough.

He turned back towards the hall and the lords likely still gathered there. His instructions would have to change. The human champions were coming, and he had to force them to come to him.

Whether they came just for the settlement, or possibly for the stones or for his people he didn't know, nor did he care. They must come to him and enter the towers—deeply enough they could not retreat in time to escape his power.

There, Gromsh would be waiting, and then they would be his. The settlement was nothing. The other human champions were nothing. There was only the enemies of his gods, and therefore his enemies.

The way-gates of the towers could be entered and exited by any creature. But the gods had given him a lifetime power—Mortal Foes—with a single use to trap his enemies inside a tower gate until one or the other was dead.

They would have mere seconds to escape. He need only wait for them to enter inside, too far to reach the entrance gates in a mad dash. Then he would use his power, and trap them. Then he would break them.

* * *

Mason shivered as the feeling of being watched ended. "I'm telling you," he said quietly to Blake. "Something just used magic to watch us. My powers and titles made it hard, but they didn't stop it."

"Any chance this is your legendary paranoia talking?" Blake raised a brow.

"No. I'm telling you, I felt it."

"But not anymore?"

Mason shook his head, and his brother sighed.

"Very well. Then we must assume our watchers are our immediate enemies, and now know we're coming. What that actually means to our plans I have no idea. If you were them, what would you do?"

Mason winced and kept his voice low. "I'd wait until their soldiers were far enough away, then I'd hit their settlement, destroy everything, and kill everyone."

Blake blinked and stared at Mason for a moment before he spoke. "Remind me never to become your enemy, brother. However I noticed our orc enemies were not that fast, nor exactly the sneakiest woodsman. Other than their riders, it seemed their forces could hardly catch a bunch of frightened young women. Do you think they could possibly get around us fast enough?"

Mason shrugged, but did feel slightly pacified at that. "I doubt it. And Nassau's walls are no joke now. The riders likely wouldn't be enough to do it."

"Very good. So we carry on." Blake lowered his voice to a whisper. "But do we take back the settlement, or do we attack the fortress?"

"Stop whispering. I can't hear you very well." Carl stepped closer from his snooping position apparently directly behind them, and Mason rolled his eyes. "And what's this about being magically watched?"

"I forgot how annoying you are," Mason kept whispering

"I don't see how," Carl whispered back, "It's only been a couple days."

Blake laughed at that, and Mason looked between them and groaned. "Why is it starting to feel like I'm outnumbered?"

"Because you've always been a singular individual, brother. It's just the price of uniqueness. So—what do you think we should do, Carl? Settlement, or fortress?"

The older man frowned, then deflated slightly. "It seems to me they worked awfully hard to take that settlement. But the truth is it doesn't matter much to us. Might be we surprise them by ignoring it entirely."

Blake nodded. "I agree. Once the fortress is destroyed, we can take it at our leisure."

Mason looked between them and shrugged. The only reason he’d wanted to take it was to get the players a little experience.

"If we can destroy the fortress. That's a big if."

"Well it's what we're here for, is it not?" Blake countered, and Mason had no choice but to nod. "Then it's agreed. Straight to the fortress. We see what we see. We kill any orcs that get in our way. We take down their dungeons one by one and level up like madmen."

"Bingo bango bungo." Carl said, and both grinned like that was actually funny, looking to Mason to share in their humor.

"I'm walking with Rebecca," he muttered, and walked towards the middle of the pack.