The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 309: Of course there’s a Plan B

"Are ya sure we need to leave someone at the temple, Mason?" Becky frowned and went a little pink. “Seems we could, you know, use 'em. Against the army of corpses, and all."

She had a point, of course, but Mason just couldn't shake the feeling that sooner or later the dragon was coming for this temple. He shook his head.

"I won't leave it undefended. I want Carl roaming for leaders. You, me, Phuong and Streak are enough, and Alex is too exposed out there. He'll stick with Seamus on the temple. If there's trouble, launch a big blast of fire towards the..."

"Towards the gate," Seamus said, "I gotcha boss, don't you worry."

Mason continued worrying. But there was no time to waste. Undead were still rising up all over the city, but the ape and bird men were pretty much handling it now.

Anyway, Mason decided it was just a distraction. He'd expected some kind of magic was going to bring down the walls, but it turned out the undead were going old school.

After the huge army had brought itself forward, they started moving up battering rams and ladders. Already there was zombies and skeletons filling in the ditches with dirt and climbing up the walls, others methodically pounding jungle trees into the gates.

The king and his soldiers were defending the ramparts, and zombies weren't exactly great climbers. But it was only a matter of time before gates started exhausting and breaking, and that endless tide of the dead poured in.

"Time to go," Mason said, looking at the other players. "If the dragon shows up, we fall back. We don't get heroic and try and take it alone. Agreed?"

"Look who's talking, kid." Carl grinned, then rolled his eyes. "Yes, sir, we fall back."

"Becky—whenever Carl’s in range, you keep that aegis on him. Otherwise, just protect Phuong. Also I'm thinking if a gate breaks you toss up a wall if we can get to it. Anyone have questions?"

Phuong frowned. "What will we do if no matter how many 'leaders' we kill, the dragon doesn't arrive, and the numbers don't reduce enough to keep the assault from becoming...unmanageable?"

Mason shook his head. "Beats the shit out of me." He took a minute to think, trying not to curse Blake again.

His brother's constructs would be making an absolute bloody mess of the undead out there, pretty much without risk or stopping. And his magic and little orb might help figure out the dragon's powers. He eventually sighed.

"Maybe we ask the king to send out scouts to look for the dragon. It might be in the air, or maybe just somewhere in the trees. Can you handle that, Alex?"

The Belarusian nodded, and Mason glanced at the mid-afternoon sun. He wasn't sure what was going to happen when it got dark, but he had a feeling the undead wouldn't be taking a break from their assault. Time was not on the side of the living.

"OK. Drink your Rosa juice, and follow me."

Carl winced at the name, then the players all popped their stat-boosting flasks and drank the rather foul liquid down. It didn’t taste good, but it had a hell of a pep. Carl actually made a ‘whoo’ sound and shook his head like he’d shot back a double whiskey. Phuong coated his sword in some kind of acid, too.

This time they walked to a gate, more and more soldiers staring at them as they did their best to ignore the eyes.

Some of the animalistic soldiers nodded or gave some kind of salute, others making gestures like the Nephus priest once did.

"Open the gate," Mason said, standing at the entrance. "Then close it behind us."

The soldiers looked like they wanted someone with more authority to ask, but their officer soon nodded and the men worked the two big winches. The gate was still thumping rhythmically as a ram struck it on the other side, but Mason would take care of that, too.

"Becky," he said, giving her a side-eye. "How do you feel about running out and using up a little mana to start us off?"

The cowgirl grinned and summoned her shield.

"You just gimme a New York minute, city boy."

"I..." Mason shook his head as the gates creaked open. "Becky is that a long time or a short time? Can we stop with the expressions in literal battle?"

The cowgirl winked and charged through the small gap, bashing her way through a couple zombies like a linebacker. Occasionally Mason was reminded the other players were getting pretty high stats, too, and he couldn't help but grin as he watched Becky's profile from behind before she vanished.

Most of the soldiers were staring at Mason and the others in disbelief. Mason tapped a foot and summoned his Claws, hissing at Streak when the wolf started whining with impatience.

"No, I really don't know what a New York minute is. We'll just wait until we hear..."

Light and an arcane pop turned into an explosion beyond the gate. A few pieces of zombie flesh fell from the sky like the most disgusting rain imaginable. Soldiers were staring with open mouths from the top of the wall. Others wiped off fleshy goo with grossed out faces.

That’s my girl, Mason thought, then smiled as he ran through the gap in the gate.

* * *

Carl, Phuong, Streak and Mason ripped apart everything near the battering ram. Mason was about to hack the sharpened tree trunk to pieces, then on something like whim decided to see if he could lift and throw the damn thing.

Duality of Strength flared. After a few moments effort Mason got under the ram with a growl, and lifted it over his head. He ran forward and roared as he tossed it at least ten feet into a clump of zombies.

They found Becky in an almost perfect circle of destruction.

Broken bodies and bits of flesh and limbs surrounded her in a smoky, purple haze, her outfit not even wrinkled.

"Oh hello boys," she said with a smile as they arrived. "Fancy seein' you here."

Mason wasn't sure if he was turned on or frightened. But the zombie army recovered quickly, and soon closed from every direction. The players (and wolf) formed a semi-circle with Becky at the front, waiting in formation until their enemy got close.

"Go on," Mason said to Carl over the groans of the enemy. "If your stealth isn't working get back to us. If you need our help, toss up one of those color sprays."

"Righto." Carl vanished from sight in a blink, right in plain view with that knife of his in hand. Mason shook his head, at least glad he could still smell him. Sometimes he wasn't sure if Blake or Carl worried him more. But he was glad they were both on his side.

They closed their semi-circle into more like an oval, and started the slaughter.

Swords like Phuong's and Mason’s longer blade were pretty much exactly ideal to kill zombies. They had no armor, no shields, and practically walked into the blades like mobile meat into a grinder.

Becky and Streak struggled a bit in comparison. The wolf could bowl the things over and toss them around, but actually killing them took him a bit of work. Becky had turned her shield into a mace, and swatted the things back easy enough. But they usually got up. After a few minutes of bashing she did improve, aiming mostly for skulls.

"There's a flare, ya'll!" she called, pointing at a flash of Carl's disorienting color spell in the sky.

"I see it," Mason said, stepping out from the oval. "Stay with me. Don't get bogged down killing. We're moving fast."

Fortunately it wasn't far. The players cut a path of flesh and bone towards their scout, Mason now in the lead.

He cut or smashed anything that got in his way, but didn't stray from a direct line to the flare he'd seen. He trusted the others to handle themselves, to help him in a kind of cavalry-like spear formation. Or so he hoped.

"Still with me?" he shouted, not willing to look away and possibly lose his visual reminder of exactly where that flare was.

Phuong and Becky called back, and Streak didn't need to. Mason could feel him through their bond. Surrounded by so much unnatural death, the animal wasn't exactly enjoying himself. But as long as he was with Mason his fear would be kept at bay.

Mason winced when he saw a cluster of undead ahead. They weren't in the same shambolic ranks like the rest, as if they were closing in and surrounding something.

"Shit. Hold on, Carl," Mason muttered, realizing the flare might not have been a scouted target but a problem. "Keep moving!" he shouted, "We need to hurry."

He stopped trying to defend himself entirely. He ran forward slicing, usually just using a Sleeve to knock creatures out of his way. Carl was harder to kill than he looked, but his defensive powers relied almost entirely on speed and movement. If he was trapped in there with nowhere to go...

When they were almost there Mason activated Aspect of the Cheetah, ran and jumped towards the cluster. He came down like the worst crowd surfer ever, bashing both legs into different zombies before ripping off one's head and tossing the body away just to see.

"There you are," Carl said, lying on the ground with some kind of hideous demonic creature held in his arms on the ground. It was grotesquely thin and long-limbed, with a humanoid head save for the reptilian jaw.

The thing was snarling but its eyes were large with what looked like fear. It stared at Mason and the others, not moving much. The undead around had cleared a small circle and obviously were ordered not to come any closer.

"I heard it talking, so I figured…well. Why not ask it a few questions? Go on and tell Mason what you told me, friend," Carl said, his dagger held firmly across the thing's throat.

"Dragon..." it hissed. "Under ground. Buried."

Mason blinked, mind still not quite catching up to Carl hugging a demon between his arms and legs.

"Very good," Carl said. "Now tell me where, and I just might let you up with that head of yours still attached."

The demon looked into Mason's eyes, and apparently saw something it didn't like.

It twisted and tried to grab Carl as he grabbed at his knife arm, but the 'Glassassin' was too quick. The thing's neck sliced off from the back with hardly a trace of effort, and black blood flooded over Carl.

"Gross. But a got some kind of ‘aura’ boost, so that’s neat." He stood up as the undead all around them dropped lifeless to the ground. "Well. That's one. But the dracolich might not be coming. Was there a Plan B?"

Mason nodded. "Course."

He hoped he'd gotten slightly better at lying.