The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 42: Want to see my magic?

The remaining players of Nassau brought Blake, the re-disguised Seul-ki, and all their civilians to Sebastian’s ‘meeting hall’.

Sebastian sat at the end, his three most loyal minions intimidating everyone into the chairs. Alvaro was a stocky black Cuban, who carried a metal cudgel and seemed to have no powers other than a touch attack that the others said could basically wither anyone into a husk. David, who was maybe Mexican, carried a seemingly endless supply of knives, and juggled them like an acrobat when he was bored. Then there was Norman, a teenage track star from Arkansas, who understood the game better than most, and moved like a damn hunting cat with a pair of short swords. They were all very dangerous, and Blake had little doubt they’d be able to kill his allies, even without Sebastian’s help.

Blake had never actually seen the ‘chief’ fight. All he knew was from the minds of others, and that he carried a big metal disc that was probably a shield. He was some kind of ‘tank’ class that could soak up a lot of violence without going down, but he was also very strong.

“I want bonded contracts,” the big man growled in Blake’s direction. “At least a year in length. I want them now.” His dark eyes almost trembled, the anger in his voice barely suppressed.

Blake looked around the room. The civilians all stared at the table, or the walls, or their feet. If it wasn’t for Blake of course they’d still be rotting in a prison, half starved and dehydrated while Sebastian sweated them as far as he could without the system penalizing him. They’d already signed a service contract, but being bonded was something else entirely. It put them at the mercy of the chief and his goons, who could literally command them like slaves, and do anything except cause lasting physical damage, or kill them.

“Use your magic and make it happen,” Sebastian barked. “Or you’re a useless mouth to feed.”

Blake sighed, not sure how to pacify the man in such a state. “Don’t we have bigger problems, chief?” He countered with his most submissive tone. “Isn’t there some murderer out there trying to kill us? What difference does a bunch of civilian contracts make?”

Sebastian slammed the table. The closest leg snapped, and Blake realized whatever his other powers, the strength part was not an exaggeration. “You let me worry about killing who needs killing,” he growled low and dangerous. “It’s under control. You just get me what I want, and you do it right god damn now, or I’m going to beat you to death in this room.”

Blake swallowed as he felt the presence of Alvaro and his cudgel directly behind him. He tried to meet the eyes of the civilians but none would look at him. None, that is, except Hank. He gave a brave smile.

“I’ll sign,” he said. The others raised their heads in surprise. The angler met Sebastian’s eyes without a hint of fear. “Don’t think it’ll last long, to be honest. I expect you’ll be dead pretty soon.”

With that his eyes unfocused, and he swiped his hand as if in signature, then shivered as some effect took hold. Sebastian practically licked his lips.

“You shouldn’t have spoken like that to me. Get up,” he growled. Hank obeyed. “Strip off your clothes and sing the anthem.”

Hank rolled his eyes, but didn’t hesitate. He stripped down entirely naked and started singing with a surprisingly good voice, and Blake felt his chest swell with pride at the man’s courage.

Sebastian looked almost wet with sweaty anticipation. He looked at Blake. “The others. Now.”

Perhaps it was Hank’s example that inspired the others. Or perhaps it was watching him shamed. One by one the other civilian men stood and swiped their hands, then they stripped off their clothes without being ordered, and stood shoulder to shoulder with Hank. None of the women moved.

“Women too,” Sebastian licked his lips. “Now.”

Blake could hardly stomach the ugly look on the man’s face. He knew instantly the women would never, ever sign, nor would he try to make them.

He took Seul-ki’s hand beneath the table, for the first time truly understanding the depth of her fear, and indeed why so few women were players. Then he focused his mind. He flooded it with mana and will, releasing it in a spear of control straight at the least trustworthy of Sebastian’s minions—the mercenary knife thrower, David, just as he signaled his allies.

Now, or never, he whispered in their minds. Fight and be free in living or dying. Or do nothing, and crawl as Sebastian’s dogs.

David’s face contorted as he stepped back from the table and groaned.

“You want to see my magic?” Blake hissed. “Here it is.”

Kill him, he ordered with a violent thrust of Mind Bend, and a severe dose of greed. Kill him and take his place.

David blinked, then flicked his eyes at his unsuspecting chief, and the shield sitting on the ground. Then he spun with a knife in each hand, and threw.

Both struck exactly on target, both blades hitting Sebastian directly in the face.

The metal didn’t even sink in. They left two gashes on Sebastian’s cheeks, then dropped to the floor with a clatter. The big man stood and lifted his shield, his wounded face twisted into a terrifying scowl of rage.

David shook his head and stepped back, preparing more knives with shaking hands, as if he could hardly believe his own situation. Sebastian’s other minions looked around the room in confusion, but didn’t move.

“You’re going to die screaming for that.” Sebastian looked from Blake to David, clearly unsure who to kill first. Blake made the decision easy.

He turned and ran towards the door, blasting indecision at Alvaro and hoping to escape without getting clubbed, pulling Seul-Ki behind him. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how he was going to get out of this.

Even if Sebastian killed David, he and the other two were more than enough to handle Blake’s other allies—if they even attacked at all. He reached the door and threw it open, Alvaro looking at him entirely without concern, more interested in his chief.

Of course Blake didn’t have anywhere to run. He wondered somewhat idly if his luck had finally run out—if he’d been wrong about his destiny, and that things would end rather foolishly right here, right now.

Then the town alarm went off.

Blake smiled, and fled from the hall, pulling Seul-Ki as fast as he could.

* * *

Mason was starting to worry this was an ambush. He’d climbed the wall and slipped over the edge with ease and speed, but he’d expected to at least find some guards, or someone on the other side. Instead all he found were houses, something more like warehouses, a well, and abandoned streets.

So he crept forward ready for violence, an eye on the largest building on a hill in the center of the town. It was the only one spewing a bit of smoke in the cool evening air, so it either had people currently or at least not long ago. A thought occurred to him: could the patron and his allies have abandoned the town entirely? It didn’t seem likely. He supposed they might have gone out to meet up with the raiders, hoping to gather all their numbers before confronting Mason together. If so that would be a problem, but he could always run and pick them off in the forest.

He kept moving, eyes back and forth looking for danger, senses heightened and tuned to every sound and change in the urban terrain. Then the doors to the main hall opened. A couple holding hands burst through and ran towards the road, and Mason nearly raised his bow and loosed before really looking at them. It was Blake, and some unknown girl.

Mason instantly activated Aspect of the Cheetah and sprinted straight towards them.

“Here!” he shouted, bow in hand, ready for anything. But his speed was wrong. Somehow the town was weakening his nature powers and it occurred to him this likely wasn’t a wise place to fight. But it was too late for that now.

The doors behind Blake and the girl smashed open as a group of young men burst out behind them.

“Now, or never!” Blake was shouting as he raced down the hill. Mason didn’t need instruction. He stopped and drew, already accepting anything not Blake or Haley or apparently this new girl was his enemy. He loosed his first arrow, then three other men—who’d apparently been hiding on the top of the hall—either leapt down or started throwing spears.

Mason didn’t much care who they were or why. He loosed a steady volley of arrows at anything and anyone on the ground that moved closer to Blake, for now saving Power Shot and Crippling Strike and just using normal arrows. He pierced limbs and torsos of at least two of the players before the melee turned into a swirling maelstrom of weapons, magic powers, and curses.

“The ones on the roof are with me!” Blake shouted as he nearly reached the bottom of the hill.

Mason nodded, but still didn’t much care. As he was about to loose another arrow, one of the young men vanished from the melee, and appeared maybe two steps from Blake’s back.

“Duck!” Mason shouted.

They’d known each other too long and too well for Blake to hesitate. He grabbed the girl beside him and launched them both to the pavement. Mason blasted a Power Shot straight through where he’d been standing.

The duel wielding teleporter was smashed off his feet in a spray of blood. But Mason believed in finishing one’s target. He stepped forward and loosed arrow after arrow into the squirming body until the system sent its message.

[Player killed. Experience awarded.]

“Get behind me,” he growled, and Blake and the girl scrambled off bloody hands and knees to do as instructed. “Where’s Haley?” he said, watching the fighting but for a moment not interfering.

“She’s in that house.” He gestured. “But, she’s fine. You have to save my friends!”

I don’t have to do shit, Mason thought, pretty happy to watch the others trying to kill each other.

The roof jumpers had a casualty on the ground who looked like he’d been torched to a crisp. They’d taken down the guy with a club, but the big man with the shield was chasing them off easily now and seemed to basically ignore their attacks. The guy with the knives was protected behind him.

Mason decided it was time to kill knife-boy. He was about to start launching a new volley when the nearby gate screeched and started opening. A group of male voices went from joking to alarm as the second group of raiders came running through, weapons in hand.

Mason’s heart finally started moving faster. He tried to drop his traps, but apparently they didn’t work in the town, either. He took a breath and readied to take down the knife-thrower as planned, knowing his time was quickly running out.

Blake wouldn’t be able to get over that wall. He couldn’t just run away, and this was no damn place to fight them all. He should have been in the trees, where he could withdraw and hide and pick them apart. But he wasn’t. Things were about to get interesting.

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