The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 289: Sorry in advance

Mason dripped with cultist blood. He'd slaughtered his way through the first floor. His traps had begun to activate behind him, and with a grin he just kept dropping more. Whether or not he was hurting whatever was following him he didn't know. But it made him feel better.

Unfortunately, this place didn't count as 'natural', and his traps and arrows were all costing him mana. But if he didn't worry about shooting lightning, he could use a hell of a lot of arrows and traps before he ran dry.

Either way he intended to continue, and also slaughter every cultist he encountered. He wasn't sure why he disliked these things so much, but everything about them repulsed him. He supposed living in a giant temple with undead creatures was a good enough reason, but there was just...something else that gave him an instant feeling of disgust.

He didn't much care what it was, he trusted his intuition.

Eventually he found some stairs leading down and followed them. From where he was standing it looked like more of the same, and with his toughness and regeneration he didn't much worry if there was any kind of simple trap. Then as he went down, some kind of symbol lit up above him. He heard a click, followed by a 'whooshing' sound.

He grabbed Streak and dropped to one side, and a huge scythe-like blade swung down the stairs. Mason winced and looked to see it had taken a chunk out of his shoulder. But it sure could have been worse.

"I probably deserved that," he said, glancing at the rune with a sigh. The blade swung back but without much force, and Mason soon steadied it and kept it still. It was covered in rust and a bit of Mason's blood. "Good thing I had my tetanus shots up to date." He winced and walked down to the next level.

Three more cultists blocked the hall not far down. But these ones weren't wearing robes. They had short spears or clubs, metal chain armor covering most of their bodies, including a kind of half helmet that probably had a French name Mason didn't remember...

"He's here! The heretic intruder! I found him! He's here!"

Streak was growling and charging before the cultist got the words out, Mason close on his heels.

Yeah, he thought, good work. You found us.

The guards went wide eyed, one raising his spear to stab the huge, pouncing wolf. Streak ignored the blow and tackled him to the ground, growling as he bit and tore flesh from the creature's exposed, now screaming face.

Mason deflected the next spear, sliding his blade down the shaft and slicing half the protective guard and the creature's hand. He thrust his shorter blade straight through the chain link armor, then kicked the creature back several feet, watching it sail backwards through the air.

He grinned at the third, wide-eyed warrior, then banished his sword, grabbed its armored head and smashed it into the stone wall so hard he felt skull shatter.

More armored guards appeared at the end of the hall, and Mason re-summoned his Elven bow. The calling of the innate item was already getting as smooth as his Claws, like another extension of himself he couldn’t believe he’d been missing all this time.

He loosed a Power Shot followed by a Crippling Strike, shooting a series of fire arrows that flew like torches through the dark. The arrows pierced the armor almost as well as his Claw, knocking the guards back with gasps and cries of pain.

Guard after guard fell or withdrew, pushing past or jumping over their wounded, trying desperately to close.

Finally a single warrior remained, staring at Streak as he chewed on the dead and wounded with a series of growls. The guard dropped his spear and ran. But Mason crossed the hall in seconds, and the guard screamed as Mason lifted him with one arm.

"There are other 'intruders'. Where are they?"

"We..." the guard swallowed with an almost bony throat, opening its large, toothy maw. "There are...others. Yes. We have captured one."

"Where?" Mason growled.

"This floor. West side. You're in the...East hallway. Please don't kill me. I'll just run...I don't even..."

Mason crushed the creature's throat and tossed it to the floor. He stepped through the growing pool of blood, jumping over the corpses. Even inside, Wayfinder would give him the directions, so he stalked the halls for anything that took him west.

Guards and ‘cultists’ were shouting from most directions now. Mason didn't know how many of the creatures inhabited this place, but he would kill however many tried to stop him.

In fact, he decided making noise and attracting most of the attention at him was probably ideal...his friends might even hear...

"Shit."

He glanced at his mana as he realized, hoping he hadn't wasted too much on traps and arrows. But it seemed he still had a good two thirds. Plenty for a very unpleasantly loud crack of thunder.

"Hold them off," he said to Streak, as energy started building in his chest and hands. "And sorry in advance."

The wolf understood and made a whine at the terrible sound to come.

* * *

Becky froze as a huge crash echoed down the stone halls. Then she turned and ran with her shield at her side.

"That’s Mason callin’!” she yelled to the Irishman. “Paint your ass and run with the antelope!”

The man just stared, and she supposed that was another Texas-ism but didn’t much care. He’d get the idea.

“Aye aye, Captain,” he eventually said with a grin, and Becky rolled her eyes.

The wizard (who was currently burning a guard to death) had taken to calling her 'Captain America'. On account of being an American with a shield, she supposed.

Anyway she'd found the man a single room away from where she'd started, and expected the find the others next. But they'd been alone.

Fortunately, being annoying didn't stop the fire mage from being effective. He'd spent the past fifteen minutes blasting the weird-faced cultists to hell while Becky protected him, but they still hadn't found anyone else. Until now...

Becky was basically lost. But she just kept moving towards the memory of the sound, expecting to hear Mason murdering soon enough. Unfortunately, she wasn't alone.

More cultists and guards came running out of rooms and halls. Some ahead, some behind. All heading in the same direction.

A guard soon noticed her and Seamus and stopped with a confused stare. Becky transformed her shield into its mace form, ran up and smashed the bastard straight in his ugly jaw as he scrambled to draw his blade.

"A palpable hit!" Seamus called.

Mostly Becky tried not to look at the damage she'd done. She kept moving, feeling sweat drip down her body at the number of enemies growing just ahead.

What the hell was she going to do if they all stopped and turned on her? Or if it wasn't actually Mason she'd heard? Or if somehow they couldn't get to each other?

No time for any of that now. Her gut told her to keep going. She had her fancy new Aegis protecting Seamus, which meant he was basically as impossible to hurt as she was until the bastards really put some effort in.

And if that happened she supposed she'd just have to stop and start charging a Reflective Burst...though she likely only had the mana for one. Maybe two.

She kept running and smiled when she heard the sounds of fighting ahead. The inhuman denizens were roaring and shouting and dying. A sure sign of her man.

The voice Rebecca would now know anywhere started shouting.

"I'm here! Gather on me!"

She tried not to charge headlong without thought, because she was pretty sure she saw a pack of the enemy blocking the hallway, all trying to get to Mason. She slowed to a stop and stared, glancing back to see Seamus was still on her heels, if a little red faced and tired.

"I can charge in, or you can...do whatever you do, and we'll see what's what."

Seamus' eyes lit with flame, his staff appearing again in his hands.

"Been itching to test a new power, to be honest. If you could just keep me from being dead, I'd be grateful."

Becky nodded and waited, then heard a rather loud ruckus behind before realizing maybe a dozen or more of the cultists had been following them.

She winced, about to get in between them and the fire mage before she remembered her new class power. She hadn't so much as tested it, but it said it was a damn wall, right?

She had no idea how long it would last or how much mana it would take, or really anything at all. But there was no time for any of that. She activated Duality of Sanctity and held her ground.

A kind of spectral silhouette formed in blue before Becky's eyes. A cascade of options she didn't have time for scrolled down her vision, and she almost shut the thing off with a curse.

But it seemed like it was pre-set to a basic wall, and all she had to do was pick the spot and size. That seemed obvious enough.

Across the entire hallway. All the way to the roof.

She swiped at a duration bar that directly correlated to mana drain, using at least half of what she had left. Her body froze for a moment, everything around her glowing with blue light as her shield seemed to turn into a torch.

The cultists behind them slowed in obvious concern, pointing as the creatures at the front tried to slow down or stop entirely. A kind of hum filled the air, then the light solidified with a zap, and a translucent blue wall completely covered the hall a dozen feet or so from Seamus' position.

Becky grinned and punched the air.

"Have fun with that," she called, turning back to the Irishman with a grin. "I think we'll be safe a bit, so y’all can..."

Becky squinted and held up a hand as the corridor flared with more light. Then the hall filled with the sound of burning, screaming creatures, as flames engulfed practically everything Rebecca could see.

It was warm, even through her personal shield, but she still shivered when she heard the sound of Seamus laughing.