The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 310: Time

The destroyed undead/demonic leader gave the players at least a moment to catch their breath. Mason looked out at the army starting to fill in the gap, a seemingly endless procession of corpses in various states of decay just shambling on like nothing happened.

The sun was touching the horizon now.

Soon it would vanish and all the other players would lose most of their vision. Only Seamus could generate light, and he was still back at the temple. Just another problem Mason hadn't foreseen and solved that might cost everyone their lives, he decided. Sometimes he really hated being in charge.

They were all looking at him expectantly for whatever 'Plan B' was, which didn't currently exist. If they couldn't bring out the dragon, and if they couldn't kill undead fast enough before they were basically all exhausted and overwhelmed, what exactly could they do?

They could dig, Mason thought, and search for the dragon.

Except he'd never spent the time with Violet, his rather oddly intelligent purple worm, to get any kind of burrowing form. He hadn't done a lot of things, but reprimanding himself didn't exactly do much good now.

The citizens of the floating city may know where it was, he realized, even if they didn't know they knew. Maybe there was a location nearby they all understood to be...troubled.

Some kind of haunted clearing or hill. Maybe since 'the doom' they hadn't exactly been very diligent about exploration, but may know a place nearby that was a likely candidate for a buried dragon.

Mason had his horn, of course, and could call the king that way. But it wasn't urgent enough. Not yet.

"We go back," Mason said. "We can kill these things all night but it wouldn't be enough, and we'll be out of resources and exhausted. We find and kill that dragon or this city isn't going to make it. So we're heading to the walls. I need to talk to the king."

The players all nodded, and Mason felt a lot of comfort in their trust and faith. He just hoped it didn't cost them all their lives.

They ran back together towards the walls, using the cleared gap to their advantage as much as possible. Soon enough though they were chopping and smashing skeletons and zombies again, staying in formation as they pushed back towards the gate.

Mason hoped their return was a boost to morale, and not a sign that even the 'mighty heroes' couldn't do much of anything to stem the tide.

After a few minutes that felt like an hour, they arrived back at the same gate they left, more undead already carting forward a new battering ram. Mason smashed them and tossed it again, just to make a point.

"Open the gate," he shouted, not entirely sure they were going to listen. About the same moment he was about to climb over and do it himself, the damaged wooden doors creaked and swung open, and a big apeman warrior stood on the other side.

He gestured them forward, and the players ran through as the winches turned and the doors closed behind.

All the soldiers above and around them stared. It occurred to Mason they were all certainly covered in blood and gore.

"You should see the other guys," he said. The big ape showed his teeth.

"My grandfather say you were dangerous man," he growled. "Seems he speak true."

Mason sniffed and looked the creature up and down. "Grandfather? Guess I hadn't hit him as hard as I thought."

This time the ape laughed with a vaguely monkey-screeching sound, and so did some of the other soldiers. It was a welcome, if bizarre change from the horror outside the wall.

"Is the king still out there?" Mason asked. "We need to speak with him."

"I take you," said the ape, gesturing for others to get up on the wall. It seemed they were shooting arrows and dropping rocks, but probably did their best to conserve their supply. "This way."

* * *

The king sat in a small chair at the top of the Nephus temple. He was still in his armor, covered in gore, surrounded by advisors and soldiers and who knew what.

The platform was filled with people and make-shift furniture and a small buffet, along with the group of sorceresses still in a circle, still channeling some kind of spell.

"Ah, my friends," said the king when he saw Mason and the others. He stood, and it was obvious that not all the blood belonged to his enemies. He limped slightly, and half the men around him panicked and tried to help him walk or examine his wound or get him to sit again.

"They fuss like I'm an old woman," he said with a frown, ignoring them all as he approached. Mason waited until he was close enough to hear him speak quietly. Then he explained his assessment of their predicament, and the only solution he could think of.

King Aixa took a deep breath and clenched his jaw. "There are several such places. The world after the doom has become...a dangerous, mysterious place, filled with dark magic and monsters. But I will go to my council and we will try to find you an answer. Once we have, you intend to go there and...unearth the dragon?"

Mason nodded, and the king shook his head. "I will be as fast as I can. Sit. Eat. Rest yourselves while you're able. The fight ahead will be difficult."

The players didn't need encouragement there. They found an open space and collapsed in almost as much of a formation as they'd fought in, though Becky lay down next to Mason. He pulled her in without a word, trying to find some kind of calm.

"There you are! I'm fecking bored, mate. Next time I go with the wall team, eh? Oh."

Seamus probably noticed the players were coated in blood and guts, and stopped talking.

Alex came up beside him and knelt by the players one by one, his hand glowing slightly. Mason was about to tell him not to bother with him, but when he felt the strange, 'Divine' magic effect tingle against him he kept his mouth shut and enjoyed.

"Whatever that is, you should bottle it," he said with a groan.

Alex's face twitched, which was probably a grin. Streak yawned and did his best to crush his way into both Mason and Becky, and Mason caught him and eased him down.

When the wolf was finally satisfied with his position, Mason closed his eyes and might have slept for a little while.

Something woke him, and his shorter Claw was in his hand and ready to plunge like a knife before Mason blinked awake to find Phuong.

"The king is ready for us," he said, no judgment at the reaction. Mason nodded and stood, and they let the others sleep as they walked to a tired looking Aixa with a host of others.

"We cannot be sure," said the bird man king. "But we have pooled our knowledge, and with the help of the oracles, have made our best guess. The location is here. An old battle site to the East.” Here he paused, as if some memory of the place disturbed him.

“It was a kind of civil war. Not long after your last visit. My uncle and cousins didn't believe we had stopped the dragon. They thought it was a desperate lie to cover our weakness. So they came to test our strength. Many died. It was utterly needless, a waste of life, and ended in an uneasy truce. Few ever went there again because it brought unpleasant memories, reminded us of dark days."

Mason nodded. If he was a corpse seeking, bird-man hating undead dragon who didn't want to be noticed, it seemed a pretty good place to start.

"Alright," he said. "But I'll want your top three choices. If we don't find him at the first, we'll try the next. Time is against us."

Aixa nodded, and smiled a little. "Would that I had you and your warriors for the last hundred years, my friend. Perhaps things would have been different."

Time can't flow backwards, Mason thought, remembering the old man or maybe roboGod's words when they entered.

"Time is something I rarely have," he said. "I'm getting used to it."

Aixa snorted. "Then I am glad we have some. We will waste as little as possible. This time, if it is acceptable to you, my men will carry you and your players wherever you wish."

Mason nodded gratefully, then glanced at Seamus and Alex. Did he leave them here as before? Or take them, too? The same wary feeling sat like a lump in his gut, telling him he needed to defend this temple against...something.

But it was well defended.

All he had was a feeling. And an old, confusing dream of the thing under attack. But it hadn't looked like this. Everything was different. Maybe he'd changed things enough he could bring everyone to fight the dragon. It was a risk either way.

He suspected he needed everyone and maybe more to take down that dracolich in a straight fight. If they weren't needed at the pyramid and he got someone killed, or worse, failed to kill the dragon, with one or two players just sitting there out of the fight...

No, he decided. He had to fight his paranoia and bring them all, relying on the facts as they were. He just hoped it wasn't exactly the wrong decision.