The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Blake watched his brother shooting magic arrows like a damn machine gun. One of Garet’s men was down to Alvaro’s ridiculous touch power, but otherwise things were going rather well. After using his power, Alvaro had gone down soon after, and Mason had blasted Norman like it was nothing. After that it had seemed just a matter of Mason and the others surrounding Sebastian and David and killing them both. Then the raiders arrived.

Blake felt his guts slosh with water. “Oh shit.”

Mason looked, then just kept shooting.

“That’s Alex. The one in the back, he’s some kind of support!” Blake shouted over the screams and sounds of fighting. “He can make little shields, and probably can…”

They both watched Mason’s arrows reach Sebastian and bounce off an invisible shield, or vanish mid-air.

“Yeah. Do that.”

“So what are you, a damn cheerleader?” Mason growled. “Do something about him.”

Blake stiffened slightly at the reproach. “I warned you about him, didn’t I?” he muttered, then focused on the Eastern European bubbler and summoned his will. “Keep shooting,” he told his brother. I’ll distract him.”

“What exactly,” Mason loosed another arrow, “do you think I’m doing?”

Jason—a pole-arm wielding warrior—and Erik, some kind of quick-striking duelist, both came running down the hill towards Blake. Mason continued his steady barrage of arrows, but Alex was still shielding or dissipating the arrows all together.

Blake knew the man had grown up in an ex-communist country, his childhood filled with terrors of his family being taken away at any moment. He seemed impressive now, but his younger mind was filled with fear. Blake waited for another arrow to loose, then sent a violent charge of pure terror into Alex’s mind. The older man staggered and cried out, and the arrow struck polearm-wielding Jason in the gut. He doubled over and cried out, but Erik came on.

“Fuck. I’m running low on mana. This bloody town.” Mason dropped his bow, pulling a knife as a sword materialized in his other hand. He jogged forward, meeting Erik in the middle of the street.

“Mason!” Haley at last emerged from her nearby house and probably couldn’t have chosen a worse time to prove a distraction. Fortunately, Mason didn’t even seem to flinch. His gaze was focused entirely on his opponent, who came in with a quick zig zag, thrusting his needle-like blade at his taller opponent’s face.

Mason deflected it with his sword, but failed by far to counter with his dagger. Erik was fast. Very fast. His longer fencing blade jabbed again and again as the lithe fighter danced away from any counter, and Mason seemed unable to do much but parry.

Jason had regained his feet and was still coming forward. The last raider, Ben, was some kind of vital seeking rogue, and he was circling Blake’s remaining allies. Sebastian was still holding his ground while his knife thrower took shots, and the turn-coats clearly didn’t know how to bring down their chief at all.

Things were, in other words, not looking fantastic.

Blake severed his connection with Alex, and turned his attention on the rogue. Blake trusted his brother to handle whatever the other two threw at him, but his minions needed help.

Ben the rogue was another ambitious little schemer, and the least loyal of the remaining men. Perhaps where a throwing weapon had failed, a surprise strike in the back would succeed.

“Seul-Ki,” Blake said, and the girl moved beside him and extended her hand. He seized it, and opened a connection to Ben’s mind, thickening it with strand after strand of mana as he focused another Mind Bend on a single line of thought, over and over and over.

He’s distracted. He’s vulnerable. Now is your chance to be chief.

Mason was growling in frustration. He seemed entirely on the defensive, dodging away from both the long polearm and Erik’s ever darting blade. But Blake had to focus. He felt the scoundrel twisting in confused opportunism, trying not to be what he was. But like the parable of the scorpion riding the fox, it was only a matter of time. Ben the rogue failed.

With a head shake and an evil smile, then a neat bit of footwork, Ben turned and leapt at Sebastian.

This time the chief seemed ready. He spun away, and rather than waste his attack completely, Ben charged straight past him and buried his dagger into David the knife thrower’s chest. Then he turned and tried to leap back.

Sebastian’s massive shield swiped and struck his head and shoulder with a solid thud. Ben stumbled back and Sebastian followed with a brutal swing from his club, caving in Ben’s skull visibly before he dropped, spasming as he tumbled slightly down the hill.

“Traitors!” He raised his voice to cross the street. “I’m going to rip off your heads and use them for piss pots, starting with you, Blake.” He pointed his bloody club. “Then I’m going to see about your ugly little whore.”

Blake breathed, trying to think.

Influence probably wouldn’t work on the others now, and he didn’t have the mana to do another blast of mental power. He could tell Seul-ki was mostly drained and tapping the rest for a long shot wasn’t worth it. But he still had telekinesis. Maybe he could help Mason enough to swing the tide. If he focused on turning that damn polearm, or if he could maybe trip Erik just for a moment…

“To hell with this.”

Mason cursed and charged straight at the rapier-wielding Erik. The small, thin blade jabbed straight through his shoulder, piercing to the other side,  just as Jason’s poleaxe swung for his head.

Blake activated Telekinesis, and managed to turn it. Then Mason was on the smaller Erik, his sword vanishing as he just seized the smaller man by the neck, ramming his dagger into his chest and gut again and again like a prison shanking. They rolled to the street in a gory, tangled mess of blood and limbs before Mason rolled off, ducked one last poleaxe swing, then came back up again with his sword.

He pulled the rapier out of his arm and dropped it to the ground, pointing at Jason. “Run. Or you’re next.”

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