The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 471: A different game

Blake blinked and saw Annie’s pretty face looking down at him. He smiled and stretched before he felt like vomiting.

Also there was some asshole orc smashing a drum next to his ear. He went up to his elbows to tell the idiot to fuck off when it became clear there was no drum.

“How do you feel?” Annie’s big eyes were all concern and sweetness and you just wouldn’t know she was a demon-slaying, axe swinging mangler a few minutes ago. At least, you wouldn’t if she wasn’t covered head to toe in a few different kinds of gore.

“Just fine, lovely girl. Are you alright?”

Annie glanced at herself self consciously. She tried to push a blood-crusted clump of hair behind an ear before shrugging and sitting down with obvious exhaustion and pain. She looked at the orcs still celebrating not far off.

“Do you think they’ll try to hurt us?”

Blake groaned and sat up. Seul-ki was lying next to him breathing like she was trying not to vomit, looking up at the sky. Blake squeezed her hand and she nodded to let him know she was OK. He looked at the orcs as they ripped apart demon corpses and took trophies or God knew what. He was pretty sure some of them were eating corpses.

“To be determined,” he said honestly. “But don’t worry, I have a plan for everything.”

Apparently falling unconscious had exploded his constructs. It was a big difference between ‘temporary’ and ‘permanent’, which obviously had downsides but cost him a hell of a lot less mana. There was no way he could make another without rest, and he supposed a construct or two wouldn’t matter against an army of orcs anyway.

Maybe it was his imagination, but he definitely noticed more and more of the warriors looking over at him and the others on the ground. Weakness was provocative, and they needed to get up and at least act like they were ready for another round.

A ‘worst case’ scenario flashed through Blake’s mind and told him he could use Adaptive Veil and possibly hide himself in the orc ranks. It would mean abandoning Annie and Seul-ki, and he sort of hated the part of himself that offered the solution. But imagination had always been Blake’s gift and curse. And imagination wasn’t restricted to goodness.

“On your feet,” he said, standing and fighting the wave of nausea, pulling Seul-ki up and gesturing for Annie. “They need to see us as strong. As something to be feared, even now.”

He saw Seul-ki was so drained even her disguise magic was gone, but it didn’t seem useful to point it out. Annie didn’t look surprised or interested, which meant she likely knew, and the orcs could probably hardly tell one human from another.

Blake’s gut flipped when he saw Halvar and Lord Malik Earthsoul coming towards them with that ancient shaman and a handful of warriors. He looked for Pliny or the goblin assassin and didn’t see either, which also seemed like a bad sign.

Goblin cowardice was a bit like the canary in Blake’s coal mine.

“Mighty lords,” Blake said, trying to keep his voice strong and controlled. “Congratulations on a glorious victory.”

The dark-skinned, still terrifyingly strong looking lord of the brown tower looked Blake and the others over like a predator watching a herd. He glanced at his shaman.

“This old grouch says your magic overcame the enemy’s. Many times. And we saw your strength on the battlefield. The victory is not ours alone.”

Blake was about to nod in acknowledgment, but froze when he realized this might not be a good thing. Perhaps Malik was saying he didn’t want to share the glory. Perhaps he preferred to return to the towers alone to reap all the reward.

When the huge orc reached for something at his belt, Blake damn near launched himself away with Telekinesis. Except, you know, it probably would have knocked him unconscious. Instead he just tried not to cringe.

“The sons of Graakus admire courage, wizard.” Malik took a sheathed dagger from his side and held it out. “We owe you a debt of blood.”

This remained an annoyingly ambiguous gesture.

Blake smiled politely and reached out to take the dagger. He realized too late his hand was shaking badly with fatigue, and Malik stared at it as he extended the weapon. Blake took it and grit his teeth with a flush of shame, trying to think of something clever to say. The orc wrapped his other hand over Blake’s, holding it steady as he met his eyes.

“There are many kinds of strength, human. You and your people have shown yours. Let them know they are welcome here at the towers. We orcs are quick to anger, and quick to forgive. There is no ill blood. We will send them gifts to honor them, as well as the heads of the tribal leaders who raided their settlements. For our part, we would be honored to call them allies in the future, if that is their wish.”

Blake wasn’t sure heads were necessary, but it didn’t seem wise to interfere. He nodded, and Malik let go of Blake’s hand, smiling with several gold teeth and broken tusks. He walked to Halvar, throwing an arm around the smaller orc’s shoulder and pulling him away roughly.

“So, young Halvar, you survived the battle. But my daughter may yet kill you.” The young lord practically cringed as he looked up at the larger orc, and Malik laughed as he walked him away.

Blake realized he’d held his breath, and slumped as he let it out. The old orc shaman stayed, staring at Blake with one white eye as he rubbed a tongue over his toothless gums.

“How did you summon a Hazadun

Blake didn’t know what a Hazadun was. But by the context he expected it meant the flaming being covered in light. He very pointedly did not look at Annie.

“I didn’t, honored elder. Perhaps it came to defend a cause it saw as righteous. Perhaps the presence of the demons summoned it.”

The old shaman spit and narrowed his eyes with a noise like ‘humph’.

“Dangerous,” he grumbled as he turned and leaned on his walking stick. “Darkness isn’t the same as evil. And light isn’t the same as good.”

Blake watched the old orc walk away and found he agreed. On the other hand, whatever fought against demons pretty much got a pass. If there was something worse than the ‘infernal’ and ‘abyssal’ creatures in roboGod’s universe, Blake really didn’t want to meet them.

He looked back to see Annie and Seul-ki leaning on each other in relief, and still ready to drop. He waved at the ground to say it was OK. And they all collapsed in a heap.

Seul-ki spoke first—after they’d lain there half comatose for a minute or two.

“Will we return to Nassau? Have you accomplished what you came for at the towers?”

Blake took a breath, then shook his head. He needed to form his house and marry Ilya, becoming a kind of tower lord. An ‘alliance’ with Nassau was good enough for the orcs. But Blake intended more.

“Not yet,” he said, lost in thought for awhile. The more he considered it the more he realized he may never truly go back. Living with players was dangerous and unpredictable. They were powerful and even one individual might be able to betray and harm him with surprise in an open settlement like Nassau.

But Blake was almost untouchable in his tower. He was hidden, he was guarded, and to enter was to give yourself away. From there he could go out in the world with his Adaptive Veil, find more humanoids to infiltrate, to learn, to control.

He could manipulate the minds of orcs and anything else without fear of being seen as some kind of monster as seemed typical with humans. Then maybe he could go east to the ‘empire’…

Mason would win the hearts and minds of men. At least as many as he could, for as long as he could. But ultimately Blake was beginning to understand something he had maybe always known: he didn’t trust people.

True, he didn’t trust orcs or goblins, either. But he knew their limits. The system had placed rules on them that it simply hadn’t on humans, on players. The system-generated creatures were part of the game in a different way, without the same moral boundaries, the same cultural beliefs in a civilized world with ‘human rights’ or anything else besides power.

Blake knew then he wasn’t ever going back. His goals hadn’t changed, he realized, not from the start. Mason would try to keep humanity alive. Jeong would try to rule them as the ‘emperor’. But Blake wasn’t going to risk himself on the former, or put himself officially in charge like some obvious figurehead, ready to be smashed.

Behind the scenes, with all his power and cunning, without his name on the lips of every would-be king, standing apart from ‘the game’ everyone else was playing—Blake was going to control the entire world.

“What are you thinking?” Seul-ki asked, watching him with those careful eyes. Even Annie looked over like his thoughts were loud. Blake smiled for both of them.

“I was thinking a bed would be much more comfortable.” He groaned and stood, helping Seul-ki to her feet. “Let’s go home and get at least a little of that glory. Then a well-deserved sleep.”