The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 348: The Emperor

Jeong the First, Emperor of the World, Saint of the Everliving, and Eternal Leader of Mankind, stewed on his plain, wooden chair. He stared at recorded system text for the thousandth time.

[Baron Mason Nimitz, of House Mason, Patron of Nassau—has seized control of the Western Nexus. This marks the final stage of phase two.

A countdown to a period of system-enforced, zero player-to-player violence has begun, along with a universally accessible list of all surviving players, including their ranks and titles.

Further—all communication beacons will activate in three days. Biological imperatives will continue in phase three. World difficulty will increase. Planar activity will increase.

Congratulations on your ongoing survival. As ever, we are rooting for you.]

Jeong had saved the text and forced himself to read it constantly. A reminder of his failure to act quickly enough. His only real loss in the great game so far.

He listened in silence as his council droned on about the usual problems. The borderlands were requesting more players. They'd suffered more losses in the south and needed reinforcements, especially real killers.

There were never enough good players.

Jeong had mostly used up all those he was happy to discard. He'd probably have to send more civilians into The Crucible to convert them. They had more than enough civilians, though they were running out of Guildless, which meant he’d have to ask the guild leaders for help.

Players couldn’t force civilians to do much of anything. Only other civilians could. Jeong therefore had to at least work with some of them, and the several civilian guilds that had formed had considerable power.

Nothing in this new world annoyed Jeong more than the system’s protection of the cowards who’d chosen a civilian role. The worker drones of the new age. The disposable nothings with no ambition or imagination—content to accept the scraps given by players like Jeong.

Such people could be improved only through the Crucible—an early discovered, repeatable dungeon which could turn civilians into players. Of course most died in the attempt.

While it was technically repeatable, it changed with every group sent inside, so no one could be taught what to do. There were some…patterns, but ultimately one had to enter and learn on their own, or in a small group, dealing with whatever challenges the system came up with.

The ones who survived were usually impressive.

But civilians always had to be pressured to go in. This task was performed by the guilds through force or blackmail or promises of reward. Because after enough volunteers had failed and never returned home, it was quite difficult to convince the others they'd simply been sent off to fight on the borders without saying goodbye.

Jeong shut off his profile and sighed, tired of wallowing in his failure. His council was still droning on.

There was the spending of patron points, civilian points, which of the minor settlements would receive what rations. Who in the capitol would be promoted, rewarded, punished, moved up, moved down.

It was all so tedious.

"I meet Mason Nimitz in less than twenty-four hours." Jeong's quiet voice silenced the meeting. "Do any of you have any more information than the last time I asked?"

The dozen or so men and women around their rectangular table took turns exchanging words with their eyes.

Michael, Jeong's Minister of Truth, squirmed in his chair before answering.

"Unfortunately, your holiness, we have still found no way to this Western continent. Our furthest scout ships have not returned. Scrying remains the only..."

"I am perfectly aware of your inability to find it," Jeong said, in a rare rebuke of his competent assassin—a self-proclaimed former intelligence officer who looked so generic, and could speak so many languages, it wasn't clear which country he'd actually come from. The name ‘Michael’ was almost certainly fake. "I am chiefly asking if the Order has scried anything new."

"No, lord," said Erik Alberg, the stone-faced Swedish wizard, clearly not interested in elaborating.

Erik was Jeong’s Minister of Knowledge, and the defacto leader of the Arcane Order. He was a dangerous and useful man, but annoyingly precise and…unsociable. Jeong stared until the former scientist went on, his tone unchanged.

"As usual we have seen no sign of any major settlement. Also as usual, some kind of magic barrier prevents us from searching with efficiency. Our visions cannot be targeted, and only by careful documentation of landmarks can we build a map. This work continues. It must be done with precision, or it will be worse than useless."

Jeong shook his head in the silence that followed. The wizard and his cabal of mostly Northern European casters were living stereotypes—painful perfectionists not to be rushed for any reason whatsoever. But they were also skilled, and probably correct.

"Very well," Jeong said, deciding that was enough display of displeasure. He smiled and glanced at his council members one by one. Most had minor positions. They were here to enhance their status, to increase the size of his court, and to see any orders would be logged and carried out. Besides his spymaster and wizard, he had only three other key allies left alive.

The first was his 'wife', Yasmeen, a French actress of Moroccan descent in the old world, now one of the highest level civilians. The second was Ma Wei, Minister of Finance, a former billionaire and senior member of the Chinese Communist Party. Together they controlled the two largest civilian unions, which meant a tremendous amount of 'new world' wealth and power for whichever patron player they supported.

Not to mention a mafia style control over the other civilians, with all kinds of terrible rumors. But Jeong didn’t concern himself with the behavior of the sheep. Only that they belonged to him.

Because now matter how powerful he became, no matter how dangerous, he couldn’t control civilians with brute force. They were the bane of his existence, but oh so crucial to everything. And they had to be given a place at the table.

Jeong’s third ally was unlike the others—in a special category of his own. Damian had no special role or former knowledge, but served as a loyal shield. He was Brazilian, a former martial artist, and a warrior long before the system changed the world.

He and Jeong had been together since the tutorial, and the man had saved his life countless times.

Back when I was nothing, he thought, a warmth in his chest as ever for his only friend in this game.

Jeong stood, enjoying the slight wave of panic from every player in the room save Damian. It was well deserved. Jeong could move with exceptional speed and power, and he was capable of extreme and sudden violence.

His body shimmered with the energy of his many Vessels—the faithful servants who gave the greater portion of their bodies and wills to serve a greater cause. Without them, Jeong was almost pitifully weak.

His class and power choices had seemed mad at first. He had been so weak for so long, he should have died many times. But divine providence had spared him. He eventually found supporters to fuel his power—his Empty Vessel, granted by a god in a vision after he survived so many fatal moments.

Now with so many followers, all subservient to Jeong and his house—now he was like a god.

"I apologize for my impatience," he said, pacing around the table and putting a hand on Erik's shoulder. The handsome Swede was as tall as Jeong even sitting—a painful reminder of the inequities of life, and also the starvation that certainly stunted Jeong's growth as a child. The Swede didn’t flinch at the touch. Which was impressive bordering on psychotic.

Jeong walked on, deciding he should address the elephant in the room.

"I realize,” he said quietly, “the Nexus we found needs to be claimed. I know I previously decided against it, saying we should wait until we were sure. I know this decision has allowed another to beat us to it. But I still do not regret that decision."

This was obviously a lie. But true power was making others swallow lies even when they knew the truth. The eyes of the council moved to him with careful neutrality, waiting for the explanation.

"I refuse to risk the lives of my powerful players needlessly," Jeong said, still walking around his council. "Since the...unfortunate loss of two of our former ministers, finding replacement players for our fifth and sixth positions has been difficult. But we will be ready soon."

Jeong had been forced to kill said former ministers. How could he have known at the time he'd need exactly six powerful, loyal players for the Nexus event?

Finding replacements had proven…difficult. There weren't many players powerful enough for such a challenge. And a few who were had made themselves…scarce…some time ago—understandably hiding from Jeong when he demanded fealty or death.

No doubt they were lurking in filthy swamps or barren mountains. Preferring the degradation of ‘freedom’ over the unity of empire. Jeong hoped to deal with them soon.

He did not tolerate anyone who did not swear loyalty to his house or empire. The dear leaders of his homeland had taught him that.

First, he would unite the world under his banner, removing any possible threat to his leadership. Then he would teach the children of the future to worship him, until all the old players who knew of earth were gone, their memories forgotten. He would re-build the world, discarding the old, the corrupt, the failed. Only then would the world be truly at peace.

And unlike the pathetic, decadent rulers of North Korea, Jeong would become divine in truth.

He had attained immortality already—blessed by an actual god of this beautiful new planet. His power grew with every new servant, faster still with every Disciple's channeled statistics into his Empty Vessel power. He felt their strength flow through him as he walked, knowing with so many followers he could crush the skull of even Damian with his bare hands.

The council was droning on again as Jeong paced.

"My assessment remains," said Erik. "With this Mason Nimitz' title only as Baron, and my people's inability to find them, his settlement must be small."

"And my counter remains," said Michael, "that if this mystery settlement is small, how could they have enough powerful players to finish a Nexus?"

"Strength, obviously," Erik said, blue eyes carefully looking at no one. "We have seen many monstrous creatures in the West, but almost no settlements. It stands to reason the players who are alive are powerful. Our civilian Record Keepers say the same."

That the wizard leader was correct seemed painfully obvious to Jeong. But he'd begun to see Michael's inability to understand something more capable than himself was something of a character flaw.

"We have an army of players, my friends," he said, still pacing. "This game is not a sprint, as I’ve told you. Besides." He smiled. "Some powerful new players are welcome. We may no longer need to negotiate with the sea raiders, or the mountain orc tribes. Perhaps we can destroy the endless southern nests. Just think of all we may accomplish together."

"You expect this baron to join us?" his wife finally spoke.

"Of course, dear," Jeong said with complete confidence. "Why shouldn't he? If their settlements are so small, just imagine all the wealth, knowledge, and safety they will find with us."

"If they can even cross the distance," Erik said. "We may be able to do little more than speak with them, and even with..."

"I have no doubt," Jeong interrupted, "sooner or later this world will shrink. And who knows our friend's situation? He may have rivals. His people may be starving. He may be surrounded by monstrous foes. Most of you were my enemies once." Jeong smiled, putting a hand on Michael's shoulder. "Just look at us now. What is the English expression? Like peas in a pod."

"They may also have civilian pressures," said Wei. "If the beacons allow, Yasmeen and I should try and make contact with their civilian leaders. With your approval, that is, Your Worship."

"Of course." Jeong smiled, hopefully hiding his distaste for the man.

He had made a habit of killing upper class or former Korean or Chinese leadership, mostly out of principle. Unfortunately, he couldn't kill the civilians.

And he did like to keep the aging billionaire around to remind himself of the past. While competent, the man was also fundamentally a boot-licking sycophant, with no ambition to reach the pinnacle of power, merely hover close. It wasn't hard to see why he'd done well in his former life.

"Well." Jeong took a breath and glanced at the digital clock on his courtroom wall. "I won't keep you. But please return by three PM in full court dress. I'd like to rehearse the first communication, and I'd like you all to be present for it. Thank you."

His council stood and bowed or saluted in their own fashion, walking calmly for the doors to the palace proper. Jeong saw no reason to teach old dogs new tricks. He would wait for the new generations to teach a unified culture.

He caught his wife’s arm.

"I'd like you beside me. On first contact," he said. "A beautiful face to…offset my..."

"Seriousness," Yasmeen finished. Jeong smiled politely. Despite being a civilian, she truly was a delightful woman.

"Exactly so."

"Of course, my emperor," she said, bowing perfectly in the Korean style. After waiting to see if Jeong wanted something else, she turned to follow the others, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

For a moment he watched her curves, wondering how other men must feel. She was beautiful by any standard. But to Jeong she was only a flower, or a sunrise. He had no interest in sexual gratification and never had.

It hadn't bothered him before the great game. Then suddenly it had seemed a key flaw in the ultimate victory desired by the alien intelligence.

Until the god of life and death had come to him, that is. He had made everything clear. All that mattered was personal power. Becoming stronger than every other living thing. Becoming stronger than death itself. Than you could impose your vision on the world, adapting life entirely to you.

Jeong smiled as he opened his profile, eyes moving to his goals as he stared out a window and looked over his capital. It had maybe a hundred thousand souls now, all toiling away in their meaningless lives, all living at Jeong's whim. They were under his ‘protection’, officially. His to shape, his to use. The human soil with which he’d grow the future.

Jeong didn't know what arousal felt like. But he had to think the feeling that followed was close.