The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

[Challenge initiated. Defeat the Four-Claw Gnoll Champions. Good luck.]

Mason heard the click click click as the giant gnoll’s lost their shackles. He tossed a snare trap in the exact spot he’d scouted while waiting, throwing it at full sprint as he hit the ramp. His legs burned as he pumped, grabbing the handrails to propel himself as fast as possible. The light-bathed bow practically hummed in his mind, excluding everything else as he focused only on lifting it and readying it to kill. He flinched as a huge, metallic crash sounded across the cavern, then he heard the girl wail in despair and assumed the other ramp had fallen away. Didn’t matter. Nothing else did. Only that bow.

He was breathing hard when he reached the top. He dropped his garbage recurve, snatched the compound and ripped it off the little wooden clips that held it up. It was strung and set and looked good enough, and he had no time to check it anyway. He turned and drew, feeling the cams compound the draw weight in a beautiful, deadly spring as Endless Quiver formed a broadhead.

“Get fucked.”

Mason loosed a Power Shot at the first giant gnoll to reach the ramp. With a hum of raw, kinetic power, the arrow shot like a bullet, smashing into the creature’s face in a damn near perfect shot. It staggered as if sucker punched, the arrow lodged through its cheek to reveal smashed teeth and gouts of blood pouring from its jaw as it wobbled in a daze.

The second giant hit the snare, and Mason dropped a deadly trap at his feet and kept shooting. On the fifth hit he turned and threw one of the vines looped around his waist, tying it to the rail before leaping off the side of the platform.

“Kill him!” screamed the gnoll from somewhere up above, and Mason smelled the familiar odour of an electrical fire as he hit the ground and rolled.

“Ah hell.”

He scanned the ceiling, loosing an arrow at the caster gnoll before he turned and ran towards the throne without seeing if he’d hit. He tossed another snare behind him, then loosed a Crippling Shot at the closest giant before peppering the bastard with arrows. All three were still up and scrambling across the cavern after him, roaring in rage and pain as they moved to run with all four limbs. Mason ran towards the girl’s platform, watching her crawl at the edge trying to see the fight. He turned for another shot but nearly panicked when he saw how close the nearest giant was. Instead he threw himself behind the pillar as the beast leapt, claw raking the wood before it smashed into the far wall.

Mason dropped another snare, shooting a Crippling Shot at the second nearest, then running back towards the available ramp. The gnolls were bigger and stronger than anything he’d faced, but they were just as single minded and stupid, and they failed entirely to work together. Instead they came at him directly and somewhat in each other's way, and he was leading them on a merry circular chase.

By the time he reached the ramp again he’d recharged his traps and hit his enemies with another hail of arrows. They were leaving a trail of blood all over the cavern. Their torsos and legs were covered in wounds, dozens of arrows sticking out from their mutated flesh. Mason grinned and ran back to the top of the ramp, turning to loose shot after shot into the scrambling giants.

“Die!”

The gnoll above cackled and Mason’s hair stood on end. Perhaps he should have leapt from the platform, or down the ramp. But he decided to trust in his power. He stood his ground, and kept shooting.

[Apex Predator effect activated. Enemy nature affinity removed.]

A thunderous crack erupted from above, and the old gnoll screamed. Mason grinned as a charred piece of wood dropped from above to smash on the floor. He had one of their staffs, and he knew how it worked. Couldn’t use it without nature affinity. Apparently it wasn’t pleasant to try.

Power Shot re-activated, and Mason aimed and loosed at the first champion to reach his platform. It struck its chest with a heavy thwack, and at last the creature sagged and crumpled to the floor. But the other two kept on.

[Aspect of the wolf re-charged.]

Mason put away his bow, drew his knife and cut the vine on his platform. Then he backed up to the very edge, activated Aspect of the Wolf, and sprinted straight at the edge.

With a scream of effort, and a very, very bad feeling, he jumped straight from his bow platform and across the cavern with a boost of magical speed. The girl’s eyes widened as he flew straight at her, leaping to the side just as he came down slightly short. He struck the rail chest first, the air bashing out of him as he dropped his knife and clung desperately to the wooden bars. But he got a leg up, and managed to pull himself to the top of the platform and finally gasp for a little air. Then he stood up and watched the giant gnolls stare at him with confused malevolence. With a smile at the half-burnt, staffless gnoll still writhing on his disc, Mason forced his limbs to obey, pumping the two last champions with arrow after arrow as they stood stupefied and watched.

[Kill awarded, Gnoll Champions x3, Gnoll Elder Shaman. Challenge Completed. Hidden Objective Completed: obtain both rewards. Dungeon Completed. Item Obtained: compound bow. Contract Obtained: one year. You have earned enough experience for level 10!]

[Title earned: Crazy like a fox. Defeat a dungeon challenge level insanity. +2 to a key stat.]

[Title earned: Burnt the boats. Voluntarily enter a deadly challenge. +1 to a random stat.]

Mason collapsed on the platform and closed his eyes as the system messages scrolled. He suspected he’d cracked or broken a rib. OK several ribs. And maybe injured a lung. His arms and legs were mush, his bow hand numb and covered in blood. But he was alive. He’d done it. He laughed with a terrible, wet sound at the feeling of victory, his enemies all dead below him.

“Are you alright?” The girl was on her knees in front of him, blue eyes inspecting with concern. She was even more stunning up close. Her skin was pale and flawless, her round breasts barely covered by the silver colored bikini, her long legs toned and smooth.

Mason meant to say ‘yes’, put spit blood instead. When the girl covered her mouth in horror, Mason managed to clear his throat and rasp, “I’ll heal,” before passing out.

* * *

Mason woke to an angelic singing voice. Clear and pure, then low and smoky, some version of a Beatles song he couldn’t remember. For a moment he enjoyed the sound, then realized he might be dead.

He opened his eyes and jerked awake, until the memory of a beautiful blonde and a tree dungeon full of violence and blood came rushing back.

“Drink.” The girl lifted water to his lips in her palms, and he snatched her arms and slurped like an overheated dog. “Your lips are cracked,” she said, “you look like you haven’t had water in days.” Her hands were soft and smelled vaguely of lotion; her voice was the blue smoke of a jazz club, her eyes a clear, afternoon sky. Frankly she could have been a shit-stained homeless person and Mason would have loved her in that moment.

“More water,” he rasped, and the girl dipped her hands into a barrel and carefully brought more to his lips. Again he slurped but nearly screamed that it wasn’t enough. ‘Easy, easy,’ the girl was saying, like he wouldn’t murder her and her whole family for a damn glass of Sprite. He stumbled to his feet and nearly fell off the platform, then half dunked his head in the barrel as he gulped. The girl finally managed to tug him back, and he collapsed against her and the rail as he sagged and tried not to vomit.

“Thanks.” His face was buried into her neck and shoulder for support. She was so soft, and she smelled so damn good, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. “Guess I was thirsty.”

“I can’t believe you’re alive,” she said, not making any move to push him away. “How do you feel?”

“Better than them,” Mason glanced down at the dead gnolls to comfort himself that they were, in fact, still dead. Finally he stood up straight and the girl smiled with impossibly white teeth over thick, red lips.

“Are you some kind of sexy French angel?” he asked, not entirely kidding.

Her smile widened as she laughed, and Mason confirmed she was in fact a sexy, French angel.

“I’m from Montreal,” she said, “and I’m not an angel. I was a singer, back when…” she trailed off and shrugged. “I’m a civilian now. And because you rescued me, and the…nature of the challenge, I am your contractual servant for one year.”

Mason had no idea what that meant.

[Tutorial query: civilian contracts. Any civilian may form a pact with a player. There are essentially three kinds: trade, service, or bond. A trade contract is an exchange of labor for resources and easily broken. A service contract is an exchange of time, labor, and degree of autonomy for resources, and more difficult to break. A bonded contract is a slave until the contract is over.]

Mason felt his eyes widen at the descriptions, and met the girl’s eyes. “What sort of contract?”

She didn’t look away.

“Bond. My class is officially Assistant. I can’t help you in combat, but I have many useful powers, and before all this I did many things, and can cook and clean and entertain. This is the contract, if you wish to read it, patron.”

The girl blinked, and ghostly text trailed before Mason’s eyes. It read vaguely like a legal document, but in nearly every category where the ‘servant’ party should have gained some kind of benefit, the answer was always ‘nil’. In other words, it cost Mason nothing for a year. He blinked as he saw the very bottom of the words, which read: the only limitation to a patron’s behavior to a bonded servant is the deliberate infliction of permanent physical damage. Proportional punishment is determined by the system.’

Again he met the girl’s eyes. She stood almost boldly, seemingly ready for whatever he might do or say.

“Hi.” He extended his hand. “My name’s Mason, what’s yours?”

She took it.

“Haley.”

“Do you have any food in those barrels, Haley?”

“We do.”

“I thought we might sit up here and drink and eat for awhile. You think you can stand being on this platform a little longer?”

“Yes,” the girl smiled. “I’ll get you a lid to use as a plate.”

They sat and ate a collection of dried fruits, nuts, and something approaching beef jerky—or at least Mason hoped it was beef—until Mason recovered some semblance of humanity. He did his best not to stare at the girl, no idea what to do with her. He was glad he saved her, of course. She seemed warm and bold and incredible, and she belonged on the cover of some magazine. But nothing had changed. He needed to survive, to find his brother, and she would definitely slow him down.

[Dungeon reward timer expiring. Would you still like to correspond with player Blake Nimitz?]

Oh shit!

“Yes, of course you bastard,” Mason growled, and Haley stared like he might have lost it.

Then a square image appeared in the air just off the platform, crackling for a moment before solidifying into the bleary view of a dark night, mostly silent save for the sound of waves.

“Blake?” Mason squinted and tried to understand what he was looking at. “Is that you?”

Oh hi there.

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