The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 313: Everything ends

[Apex Predator: Vision of the Dead: partially resisted.]

[First Blood: Wing Buffet Daze: resisted.]

Mason growled and looked up from the ground. He'd been tossed a good twenty feet to crack a tree trunk, and probably a few ribs. He spit blood and winced, expecting broken was more likely than cracked. His left leg was also not quite right, and he gave Transformation a tick or two.

There were also several blueish, partially translucent figures watching him, and it didn't take long to recognize the Nimitz's.

"Stop fighting, Mason," whispered Mason's adopted father. "It's not worth it. None of these people are your family."

If they aren't, no one is, Mason thought, trying not to look at the only people he'd ever thought of as 'parents'.

They hadn't ever thought of him as their real son, maybe, but they'd done their best. They'd given him more than he could have ever expected, everything two strangers could ever give, except maybe their love. It had been enough.

"I'm sorry," Mason whispered, knowing then they were dead, even if it was just some spell in a fictional world. He limped back towards the dracolich as it spun and roared at the others, spraying magic and trying to bite Becky in half.

If he didn't hurry, he knew they'd be the next ones haunting him in blue silhouette. All over the battle site corpses were rising from the ground. He saw big apes crawling towards the players, and he saw bird men who looked like fallen angels with rotting wings.

It was definitely time for a little help. Mason took out the Horn of the Nephalai King, and blew. The sound somehow managed both a deep and sharper range, making Mason (and probably Streak) wince in pain. Then he tossed the horn and put it from his mind.

Presumably the dracolich had already animated most of the corpses for his army. But how many remained here? Fifty? Hundreds? A thousand?

The players couldn't deal with an army on top of that terrible creature. Looking at it with Hunter’s Mark wasn’t confidence inspiring. On top of having no organs, it had no central 'gem' like the earth elemental Mason had dug inside and destroyed. He saw no way to actually kill it except literally smashing it apart bone by bone.

And it had a lot of bone. It was huge, and not particularly vulnerable in its structure. The only possible way to kill the thing seemed to be to cut off its head. Hopefully. Which was attached by a large number of bones great and small.

Mason decided he would have to crawl inside and start pulling things apart before it killed all his friends. It might work, but it would take awhile.

He saw the others struggling with the creature's magic. Alex looked like he was fighting the world’s worst hangover; Phuong was lost in his own battle, focusing without his usual awareness of the fight; Becky was screaming and swinging her shield at the air.

Seamus, fortunately, was still blasting like a fiery metronome, his bolts leaving charred and cracked bone wherever they struck. But if the dragon turned on him he'd be in serious trouble without Becky's full attention. Streak was obviously unaffected, growling and chasing the dragon's little legs, pulling off the occasional piece before leaping back for more.

Carl was their real weapon, but he may only get once chance to surprise the dracolich before it turned all its power to stop him. Mason had to make that chance count.

He stood with a groan, not sure what the hell he could do to get this powerful creature's attention. All he could think was lightning, but it was hard to imagine a simple blast doing enough damage to worry the thing.

He saw a blur of movement and realized Carl was already attacking. He cursed as he summoned his Elven Bow and loosed a Power Shot, followed by a desperate hail of fire arrows. Mostly he just wanted the dragon’s attention.

The Power Shot hit its chest and broke a bone, then rattled away uselessly. The other arrows bounced off or passed through, nothing inside the beast to actually harm.

The dragon was turning to find and likely annihilate Carl. Mason roared in frustration and charged.

With Aspect of the Cheetah he reached its side and started hacking with one Claw, grabbing bone and trying to snap it with his free hand. The dracolich turned, spewing magic that flickered another round of resists from Apex Predator.

Mason saw Carl warp away and breathed a sigh of relief. Then the dragon spun back towards him, and all he could do was hold onto its ‘ribs’ and go for the ride.

From the corner of his vision he saw Becky and Phuong fighting the rising dead, protecting Seamus and Alex as best they could. He was about to jump off and run to help when he saw little dots dropping from the sky.

Bird warriors screeched and skewered undead without slowing, some smashing with long clubs or hooked swords like the world’s scariest cavalry. Mason grinned, ready to renew his efforts against the dragon.

It literally spun in place. Mason managed to hold on until he saw the ground coming towards his head. He let go and rolled to his feet, slashing again before the huge body connected and knocked him flying away again.

He cracked another tree and growled from the jungle floor, spitting blood and calling for Streak. Carl was still warping around desperately. Becky was trying to get back to the thing’s face to give it a target.

But this was wrong. It felt wrong. Whatever part of Mason that was druid was screaming in frustration, trying to get his attention.

After all their efforts the dracolich was hardly damaged, and Mason began to accept: this wasn't a creature for a ranger. It wasn’t some invasive species or destructive living thing.

It was the anti-thesis of life. It hated life and all living things for a reason. Because it had been stripped of it, held together now only by some dark magic. Magic that didn't belong in these woods. Magic that perhaps could only function when the life around it went silent, like the corpses, like the trees...

Mason blinked, and looked at the unnaturally still jungle floor.

He activated his Blessing of Echtra, and in seconds felt the fury of Gaia all around hi. There was barely suppressed life here that surrounded this place every moment of every day, like roots trying to grow through concrete. All it needed was a crack.

Mason dropped to the ground, and dug his fingers into the soil as he activated Speak with Nature. He focused on his Nymph Charm and activated Blessing of Gaia, too, just as he had when he cleansed the Great trees, or saved Eve from the Maker spell.

"Come," he whispered for Streak again, though he felt the wolf was racing for him now. "I’ll need your strength."

The wolf came bounding through a growing purple fog, green eyes glowing in the gloom. The power of the dracolich was resisting Mason already, twisting beneath the earth like the snake it was, recoiling and hissing as it struck at the life sprouting through.

Mason shivered at the coldness and activated Inner Fire. Then he activated Shared Pain as Streak reached him and hunkered down with a determined growl.

"We can take it," Mason told him, clutching his fur with one hand, the other still buried in the earth. "I promise."

The dracolich screeched in agony.

Mason heard Carl slicing bone and warping to do it again, but that wasn't what mattered.

Dark, purple eyes turned straight towards Mason as the dragon twisted and slithered towards him. It knew he was channeling. It knew he couldn't move.

"Faster," Mason growled, reaching deeper into the jungle roots, drawing it towards the rotten earth. He saw undead creatures coming for him now, too.

The first ape had almost reached him. He had no choice but to take the hits, to hope his toughness and Transformation would keep him going as he channeled.

The creature rose its arm and screeched as the guardians of the corrupted temple had. A bird warrior matched it above.

King Aixa struck with blinding speed. He and his personal guard smashed into the ape and the surrounding dead with spears glowing bright with magic.

Others still got through. But these too stopped as if confused a few paces away. Even the dracolich hissed and stopped as if afraid to approach the field of energy growing around Mason.

It wasn’t Becky or Alex or even Mason’s magic. It was the jungle. It was Gaia, or Nephus, the power of life by whatever name you pleased. And though death may be eternal, it looked like there was nothing it could do in the face of life, but wait.

The Dracolich roared. It blasted more purple darkness in a cloud that surrounded Mason and blocked his view. It had defeated this jungle before, he knew, and wasn't afraid to try again.

Huge claws scraped and sizzled as they struck the green sphere, ripping the ground apart as its bones surged it forward in some mockery of muscle and physics.

"You will not stop me, druid!" the beast raged with a voice like a chain-smoking God. "Not on the eve of my triumph!"

Mason’s channel was close, but it wasn't there.

He couldn't stop it. He had little faith his aura would keep away the huge fangs bared and closing to meet with his chest. All he could do was hold, and hope.

He clenched his jaw and pulled at the life, trying not to cringe as the huge maw descended again and again, sending shivers through the earth and weakening the color of the green sphere.

It finally shattered.

The dracolich struck once more with frightening speed, ignoring the players and the rest of the battle.

Becky’s blue wall formed in a kind of half sphere around Mason. The dragon's skeletal face smashed against it, shaking loose dust and bone and making a crack so loud Mason's ears rang.

The dracolich roared in fury. It spun, purple magic rippling all around it as it surged straight towards Becky.

Mason nearly whooped with pride. And at not being dead.

His mana was completely drained, his hands turning white as Streak's eyes rolled and the wolf dropped to the ground and whined as he curled up as if to die.

The shaking ground got worse and worse. Tree roots erupted from the soil. To Mason's ears it was like an angry mob, their shouting voices raised as they came for their victim with torches and pitchforks.

Living things sprouted from the ground, or descended from the trees. Loop after loop of vine or branch swooped at the undead, and at the dracolich, like a hangman's living ropes.

Carl was still cutting bone. Phuong was loosing a never-ending series of blasts from his sword as Seamus sprayed firebolts from his staff. The dracolich smashed down into Becky's shield, roaring as the trees started to hold it back, as its body began to slow and fail.

"Just a little more," Mason whispered, fighting to keep his eyes open. He turned off Shared Pain, and Streak lifted his head and growled. Mason managed a smile as he turned it back on. "You're right," he said. "We'll go together.

But they’d reached a kind of breakthrough. The hard slog of piercing the dark, cold magic holding out natural life was over. Mason felt like he slid from clay into water.

He wasn't the storm, just the lightning rod. Endless power surged through the soil all around him. Eager. Unstoppable.

The dracolich screeched with a sound not much different than when it was alive, its wings pierced, its body falling from the sky. For the first time in a hundred years, perhaps, it was afraid.

Mason released his grip on the earth and closed his eyes.

He heard the fighting still going on, heard his friends attacking and destroying bits and pieces of the creature. But they were hacking at a rotting whale. It was already dead, already gone. Time was just finally catching up with it.

A shiver surged through Mason's body as he stared at the terrible creature now bound like a fly in a spider's web, the last remnants of bone being swallowed and pulled to the earth.

There's your immortality, he thought, wondering what his own fate would be.

He didn't care what roboGod said, what his little stories told him. Nothing lasted forever. Not that dracolich. Not Mason. Not roboGod.

Maybe it was the 'ranger' in him, maybe it was the orphan, or the mortal creature, or the paranoia. But the thought didn't frighten him.

Instead it brought a kind of comfort, a kind of hope. He liked knowing every tyrant, every tyranny, would eventually fall.

Before the darkness swallowed him, as he turned off his powers and lay down to try and heal, he held one last thought, just in case the alien was listening.

Everything in this universe ends, he whispered in his mind. You'd best remember that.

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