The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 302: Overall, pretty cool

[You have slain an Elder Dragon. Group experience to be awarded at end of event.]

Mason fell as the dragon died. Its jaws were locked around him, his body contorted and half crushed with his arms and blade dug into its head. His whole body was burned and in agony, and the longer he lay in the thing's blood and saliva the more confident he was it was acidic.

It wasn't the cleanest or most pleasant victory he'd ever had.

"Uh, help?" he tried shouting, watching Duality of Strength and Transformation tick along as he tried to push at the locked jaws. It wasn't exactly crushing him, but it also wouldn't budge, and left about enough room to breathe a fifth of a breath. Not that there was much to breathe except acid.

As usual Mason hated the feeling of being trapped. It seemed to come up a lot.

He’d been trapped first as a boy in a life he didn't choose, trapped in a world he wasn't suited for, now trapped in some robot's experiment, which literally trapped him inside worms and cave-ins. And apparently dragon's mouths.

His only escape were the tools provided by that same synthetic god. He was like a rat collecting cheese in some elaborate maze, and he didn't see a God damn thing he could do about it. So he stopped thinking and pushed.

He pushed hoping maybe one day he wouldn't care about the cheese. But he was also frightened of what that meant.

For now he cared, which surprised him—about the people he knew, and maybe the lives of the people he didn't. And yes, about winning, whatever that meant. About killing giant flying snakes with some dumb fantasy name. About stopping the strong from preying on the weak, as if their lives made no difference.

He heard panicked voices calling out his name, searching for him, trying to help. He expected sooner or later Carl would cut his way through the jaw, but Mason didn't feel like waiting. He pushed until Duality of Strength got the message.

Everything breaks with enough force.

Whatever piece of the awful creature's jaw had locked finally snapped, and the pressure eased. Mason got his legs up and pushed himself some more room, than stood up and lifted as he walked towards the lips with the top held up on his shoulders. He kicked a tooth out (it took several tries) for good measure on the way out, then jumped down to the ground.

"Jesus, kid. You look like Liam Neeson from that superhero movie, you know, where he wears disguises. Darkman."

"I'm guessing that's bad."

Becky came running beside Seamus, covering her face when she saw Mason.

It was definitely bad. The birdman prince landed, and the Nephus priest came up with half a dozen others in his wake. Pretty much everyone was staring.

Mason didn't quite 'collapse', but he did agree with his body that it was time for a good sit.

"Are you...in much pain, my friend?" said the priest, his face grave.

“Compared to what?” Mason muttered, feeling himself shake slightly as his body failed to grapple with it all.

"Your name will live on forever," said the priest. "What you and your friends have done today will live in glory for a thousand years. They will speak of it in every city in the world."

"Great," Mason said lying flat then hissing at the pain in his back. "I'll look forward to that."

"Are there any rituals...any customs he would wish? Any words we might say?"

Mason heard the priest asking the others, and realized the man assumed he was dying. Carl didn't quite laugh, but it was fair to say his horror and concern for Mason getting burnt/crushed/exploded had rather diminished since they met.

"Maybe you should hold his hand," Carl said. "A lengthy prayer, maybe. Mason appreciates a lot of words. The more philosophical the better."

"Carl," Mason groaned in warning, hearing the prick cover a laugh with a snorting cough. "Everyone else OK?"

"This ‘ain't a joke," Becky said, and he tried not to groan as she took his hand. "We're OK, Mason. We did it. Though I don't see Streak...I think maybe he was...oh, nope, there he is. He's trying to eat the dragon."

Mason snorted, and despite the pain, almost laughed when the priest took his other hand and started mumblings words about Nephus and eternal life.

He supposed, in a way, the man was right. Mason was possibly going to live forever. Though with the way things were going he sort of doubted it.

He wasn't so stupid or arrogant to think a man fighting for his life every week was going to enjoy immortality. Sooner or later, there’d be a dragon mouth out there that would be his last.

"I'm not going to die," he explained, patting the priest's knee. "At least not today. I'll heal in a few minutes."

This was met with a polite smile and more priestly words. Mason probably passed out a minute, but when he woke he saw pretty much everyone but his friends were staring again.

The priest made his now familiar religious gesture. Most of the bird men made gestures, too, but he expected these were a lot less 'thank God', and a lot more 'dear God.'

Mason sat up and gave a little wave. Becky threw her arms around his neck and he patted her arm and grinned.

"You're so soft now," she said with a little laugh. "Like fresh new baby skin."

"Super." Mason cracked his neck and got up, trying not to wince as a fair amount of old, burnt skin sloughed off like a...well, snake. "I'm thirsty. And starving. And I'd rather not eat dragon."

"Rest assured," said the birdman prince, stepping forward as his eyes went up and down Mason's body. "Tonight, once the dead are buried, we will hold a feast in your honor. The nobles of this city will sit and listen to your prophet speak of your god, and of the deeds of his champions."

Mason nodded, not at all sure how he felt about that. "I saw you and your warriors attack the dragon's wings. We would have failed without you. Your men deserve as much credit."

"Some less, perhaps." The prince smiled. "But you're right," he turned and spoke up, his pallor fairer, his voice louder as if with every passing moment. "The Destroyer is dead!"

The soldiers cheered with eyes that seemed bewildered, as if they were caught in a myth they hardly believed.

"Let every city, every house,” continued the prince, “let every race of creature know a dragon died in the floating city. It died, and we live."

Golden eyes shone everywhere with pride, and their prince put a hand gently on Mason's shoulder.

"Come, my friend, for a much deserved rest. Others will put out the flames and see to the city. You have done more than you can know for my people."

Mason nodded, too tired and hungry to argue.

"Next time," he said, before he forgot. "Have the apes ready with some kind of pick. To pierce those scales. Do you have metal? Or I don't know, try really strong, magic wooden spikes. The spears worked great on the wings, but you'll have to attack it on the ground."

The Prince snorted and shook his head. "I will remember, Mason, champion of Nephus. Now, come. Let us speak of your god, and your homeland. I have many questions."

Mason blinked as the world started to distort.

"Ah hell," he said, feeling his eyes glaze.

A green circle formed in the air all around him, and he glanced at Becky and the others to see more circles forming on top of them. He sighed, shrugging at the priest as he felt the prince’s hand slip off his shoulder.

"Another time, I guess," he said, hoping the next 'level' wasn't quite as bad as this one. But he'd seen Blake play enough video games to know it wasn't very likely.

* * *

Mason's eyes cleared to reveal...more jungle, and some kind of stone platform. He smelled smoke and blood and living things everywhere, slowly turning to see what he was dealing with.

All the players (and Streak) were appearing around him, blinking up at the grey sky and the canopy of trees. So that was something.

Becky grinned when she saw everyone was together.

"At least I don't have to find y'all this time. And I think that portal gave us a boost. My mana's pretty much all back."

Mason nodded, feeling a lot less starving and beat to shit than he had a few seconds ago. He looked around and realized with the others the stone platform they were standing on was actually built into the side of an immense structure. He looked off the edge and realized they were a good fifty feet above the ground.

"Don't walk off," he said, then glanced up to see stairs that could take them up at least another fifty feet and probably more.

"You've come, you've truly come," said a young man's voice, and Mason spun to see a boy with a shaved head and something close to a toga standing in a doorway to another part of the structure. His eyes were wide, and he bowed his head as if in reverence.

"You've arrived just in time, champions, the battle has begun. Please follow me."

"What battle?" Mason said. "Where are we?"

The boy stood with a confused look, glancing back through the doorway until an older man stepped through holding what Mason now recognized as a symbol of Nephus.

He blinked, recognizing him—it was the same old man who'd stood on the pyramid in the desert, who recruited them to 'save the Nephalai'.

As Mason looked into his eyes, he also knew now it was the young priest he'd helped in the jungle. The ‘prophet’ they’d been helping this whole time.

"I am very pleased to see you again, my friend," said the now aging priest. He wore robes almost identical to those he'd worn when they met, his face and body wrinkled and tanned, his back beginning to hunch with age. "You haven't aged in a hundred years," he said in wonder, then shook his head. "Praise His name."

"What's happening?" Mason said. "I smell battle. A battle with who?"

"With the dead," said the priest, as if surprised Mason didn't know. "The enemy of the god of life has always been death. The Destroyer has returned, my friends. Risen from the earth with the will of its ancient god. Bones and darkness sent to snuff out the lives that defied it. Today is the hundredth anniversary of its defeat. And it has been waiting."

"A dracolich," Carl said with a knowing grin, "so cool." Mason stared until the man shrugged and dropped it. "Not for us, obviously. But still, overall, pretty cool."

Mason sighed and shook his head, gesturing for the priest to lead them on. He’d really wanted that feast. And maybe a night to bang Becky until they both forgot their own names. Instead it was ‘Destroyer Round Two’.

"Alright," he said with an exhale, resigning himself to more geekery. "Tell me what the hell a dracolich is."

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