The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 25: Kill stealer

Mason let Haley rest her legs every three hours. He rose up and cracked his back and drank from their flasks, letting his heart rate lower and his legs regenerate the pain. Then he picked up his ‘assistant’, and ran on. The forest changed little. He saw more clearings, a beaver dam blocking a small stream, and clusters of ant or termite mounds he did his best to avoid. Lots of interesting things, sure, but no ocean. Not even a river, which he could at least likely follow to a larger source.

So he kept on East, or mostly East, doing his best to make sure he didn’t angle too much. He found the hard, sweating labor of it all deeply calming, and natural. The smell of the pine, the sounds of the creatures calling in alarm as he passed, the cool air on his damp skin. He knew anything might jump out and attack him in this strange new world, but if it did, he was ready.

Seven hours in he heard a loud crash in the trees. He stopped and let Haley down, putting a finger to his lips. Then he heard shouts and human voices.

“Bow.” Haley materialized it from nothing, and Mason glanced around the woods. “Hide in this tree.” He cupped his hands, and the girl sighed but reached up and put her foot in, leaping up to the first branch. “I’ll be back,” he promised, then crept forward towards the sound.

The crashing continued, punctuated by loud, hard cracks and maybe the snapping of trees. The voices seemed more and more frantic, desperate, all male. Finally Mason saw movement ahead. He crept on towards a small clearing to find broken trees, and something huge lumbering back and forth. It looked like a moose but maybe twice the size—at least twelve feet tall at the shoulders. It must have weighed a couple tons.

“Lead it back this way!” A man in dark clothes poked out from behind a tree.

“I’m…trying!”

Another man in something like kevlar with a police shield was apparently in the clearing with the creature, running back and forth to avoid getting crushed.

Mason just watched, and waited.

A spear soared in from another angle and struck the animal’s flank, lodging solidly as it roared and spun towards him. Police Shield happened to be standing in the way, and panicked as the creature lowered its head and charged. He leapt, but not fast enough. The creature’s massive antlers knocked him flying, slamming him against a trunk where he fell and lay still.

“Well shit.” Mason stepped closer and drew his bow. These people might have knowledge about where they were, and the surrounding geography. He didn’t want to interfere, but he needed them alive.

His first arrow was a Crippling Strike, straight into one of the giant moose’s forelegs. It howled and waved its antlers to and fro, but kept on charging with a slight limp. Mason moved closer and closer, loosing arrow after arrow at the creature’s side.

“There’s someone here!” shouted a different voice from the trees.

Mason just kept on shooting. He tossed three snare traps in a cluster between two strong trees, keeping them between him and the giant creature. It reached its target, apparently, smashing a tree in half with a single charge before turning toward Mason.

He launched a Power Shot straight into its face. The skull was too hard for a kill but he wanted it disoriented and angry. It howled again and came running right at him. Apparently mission successful.

“Come on.” He kept launching arrows low, hoping to hit the creature’s thighs and hips. It kept charging, taking hit after hit in its shaggy fur and thin legs, seemingly unstoppable. Then a few steps from his traps, the beast stumbled and fell.

A few whoops came from the trees, and the figure in dark clothes leapt out with a knife in each hand, sprinting at near inhuman speed to land on the creature’s back as he started stabbing. Another spear struck the beast’s flank, and Mason nodded at the careful throw. Had it been a normal moose, it would have struck at least close to the heart, yet the creature kept on thrashing. About a dozen arrows and two dozen stabs later, the creature kicked its last, head stilling as frothy blood pooled at its lips.

“Hell yeah.” The young man on the moose’s back grinned and put away his knives.

[Killed Great Forest Moose. Group experience awarded.]

The mid thirty’s spearman stepped out into the clearing, along with a white-haired, robed man who attended to their fallen comrade. Pretty soon the SWAT-looking player was on his feet, and the four men came as a group towards Mason. Out of politeness, he hadn’t moved, waiting for them to decide how to handle it. He met their eyes one by one and nodded.

“You stole our kill,” said the dude with the shield, and Mason felt his eyes narrow.

“I what?”

“We didn’t ask for your help,” he spit some blood and clearly looked worse for wear. “We tracked that thing, chased it out. Then you went and stole most of the reward.”

Mason often liked or disliked people very quickly. This person was not an exception. “Hello, I’m Mason,” he said with more tone than he probably should have, “the guy who probably just saved your life. Nice to meet you.”

“Bullshit,” the guy dabbed at his lip and winced. “We had it. Just figuring out our technique.”

Their technique? Mason nearly laughed. “Was it ‘get gored and splattered all over the trees?’. I bet they teach that at West Point.”

The moron sneered and clearly their dislike was mutual, and the kid in dark clothes looked at the others.

“The hell is West Point?”

“Look,” Mason sighed. “I was just hoping for information. I’m sorry if I stole your kill. That wasn’t my intention. The carcass is all yours.”

“God damn right it’s ours,” the apparent leader said as if offended. “Now get lost. If we catch you around our kills again you’ll be sorry.”

Mason looked at the men one by one, seeing only their leader seemed interested in a fight. The guy in robes had a poker face, but Dark Clothes and Spearman practically winced.

“This is getting a little tense,” Mason said, “and there’s no need for it. I don’t want a fight, and I might even have something you need. So why don’t we all take a nice, deep breath, and relax.”

“Buddy,” Captain America took a step forward. “If you don’t get out of my sight in the next ten seconds. You’re going to be permanently relaxed.”

At that point Mason began killing the man in his mind. He could loose a Power Shot before a reaction, he was quite sure. They’d expect he’d have to draw, but in reality without a quiver he could shoot in the blink of an eye. If the idiot didn’t die straight out, he’d throw a trap at his feet and use Speed of the Cheetah as he circled, peppering him and any friends who joined with arrows. His hands curled on his bow, and he decided to count to five.

“Hi boys.” Mason’s eye twitched as Haley’s voice came from nearby. Why exactly she decided to intervene, and how exactly she thought an attractive, young woman’s presence was going to lower the testosterone level, he had no idea. She was supposed to stay in her tree.

“You were supposed to stay in your tree.”

“Well,” she sidled up beside him and wore her winning smile. “You didn’t exactly order it.” Then she looked at the corpse of the dead moose and covered her mouth. “Oh my. Well aren’t you all just incredible. Look at the size of that thing!” The four men gaped at Haley in various forms of shock. Mason didn’t at all like how their eyes forgot about rudeness, moving from her chest to her legs and back again. “Would you mind terribly if we joined you for awhile?” She perked up like she’d just had a brilliant idea. “I could cook you boys a nice meal!”

Mason let out a long, suffering breath, and looked between them.

“You rather just kill each other? I’m good either way.”

“I’d…kind of like a meal,” said Dark Clothes from the back. The others glared at him, but he just shrugged.

Captain America shook his head, something unpleasant still in his eyes.

“Fine,” he seemed to struggle with the word. “For the lady.”

The Spearman took off his baseball cap and smiled with some missing teeth. “We’d sure appreciate it, ma’am.”

Haley put a hand to her chest as if wounded. “Oh God, how old do I look?”

* * *

The smell of cooking venison soon settled the group into an uncomfortable stand-off. Mason kept maximally distant from Dark Clothes (apparently named Roger) and Captain America (Frank), never letting them out of his vision. He kept his bow casually beside him.

“Where did you get all this stuff?” The young Roger asked between bites of biscuit almost like the old British hard-tack. Haley smiled at him from her sitting rock.

“I’m a civilian. I started with a bunch of stuff, and the system sends me more as I level.”

“That’s awesome.” Roger grinned and failed utterly to hide his youthful admiration for the blonde beauty. He asked about a dozen more questions, including ‘what’s your name?’, ‘where did you get your clothes?’, and ‘what else can civilians do?’ as Haley laughed and started answering.

Mason looked at Robed-guy and Spearman, who had yet to actually introduce themselves. “Do you know where we are? Or if there’s an ocean or sea nearby?”

The men exchanged looks, particularly at Frank, but the big man just chewed his venison and said nothing. “We know a little,” said Robed-guy. “Our tutorial was maybe two miles North West. We stuck together and beat the…”

“Shut up,” said Frank, who looked up and sneered. “Why should we tell you anything? What do you have to trade besides this bullshit?” His eyes went to Haley with that same unpleasant gleam, the hint of a leer on his lips.

“I can tell you I came from a tutorial due West,” Mason tried killing with kindness first. “I fought hyena men called gnolls, and little green men called goblins. There weren’t any survivors, at least as far as I know, save Haley and me. I also found a giant tree with some kind of dungeon. I cleared it, but I don’t know what happened after.”

“What’s a dungeon? And what do I care about some tutorial due West?”

Mason was really starting to dislike this guy. He was seriously considering killing him with something other than kindness just so he could have a more polite conversation with the other three.

“I don’t know what you care about. All I want to know if you’ve seen a sea, or an ocean, so I’m offering information. I’m also looking for two small islands with little white cliffs on said sea or ocean. If you’ve seen anything like that, just tell me, and I’ll leave you alone.”

Roger chewed on his biscuit like he was watching TV, eyes moving back and forth from Frank to Mason.

“I tell you what,” Frank smiled lewdly. “Let’s just speak plain. You give us all a nice evening with your girl here, and we’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

Mason was off his log, rock in hand, before Frank finished talking.

The thing was, he’d been putting boys like this in their place all his life. For about ten years, Blake had practically oozed ‘beat me up’ from his pores. Until he’d hit puberty and figured out girls and learned some charm, he’d been a skinny, awkward, nerd who couldn’t throw a ball to save his life. So Mason had been beating bullies for about a decade. At this point it just came natural.

Two steps and he’d crossed the distance. Haley was crying out something that didn’t matter now. Frank rose as if it’s what he wanted, grabbing for his shield and fumbling slightly with the handle. He’d underestimated Mason’s speed. With a fast sidestep, and an arm lashed out like a sidearm pitch, Mason activated Predator’s Strike and smashed Frank in the side of the head.

The big man dropped instantly. His body went limp, collapsing at an awkward angle on the forest floor, snoring instantly with the brain trauma of unconsciousness.

The three other men just stared. Haley covered her mouth and backed away, and Mason sniffed and dropped the bloodstained rock. He let the snoring sound in the air for a little while.

“Let’s try this again,” he put the menace he felt into his voice. “I’m Mason, and I’ve got friends, and I’ve got enemies. Now it’s time for you to decide. Which ones are you?”

The men gaped at him, Roger staring at Frank with wide eyes. Spearman twitched as if drawn towards one of his weapons, and Mason took out his knife and played with the blade.

“We’re friends,” said Robed-guy.

“Excellent.” Mason stuffed his knife back in his belt. “My friends, have you seen an ocean or a sea, and if so, a landmark as I described? I’d really like to know.”

“We’ve seen a river, and a small lake, not far from here. Up North, right by our tutorial,” said Spearman, still looking ready to run for his spear.

“I can likely save him,” said Robed-guy, looking at Frank with a kind of cold analysis.

Mason lifted his bow with slow movements, drew back the string and formed a bullet arrow. Spearman licked his lips, hands at the ready, like a ball player about to steal third.

“Don’t move,” Mason said, then aimed. He shot an arrow straight through Frank’s unmoving skull, and the snoring stopped.

[Killed player. Experience awarded.]

Everyone flinched and stared, but didn’t move. Mason put down his bow. “I don’t let enemies live. We’re leaving now, and I wouldn’t follow.”

The men all nodded, a pale faced Roger with his biscuit still hanging from his mouth.

“Haley, grab your things.”

He had to help her get started, but with a little prompting she came back to herself and did as she was told. They walked away from the camp and the corpse, heading East back into the woods.

Author's Note:

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