The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 431: We were wrong

Blake did not, in fact, have a 'Plan b'.

‘Plan A' was already pretty sketchy. It went something like this: 1) make Mason really angry to sell their fiction about a falling out; 2) do everything possible to win; 3) somehow actually win; 4) profit.

Originally, the plan only contained parts 1 and 2. But the incredibly useful set up of the arena had led to parts 3-4. Blake figured with the 'Power Charge' orb and the large cluster of 'Mana Charge' orbs he might actually have a chance to keep Mason where he wanted him, and long enough to figure out a strategy.

It wasn't going fantastically well.

As the decidedly disturbing, beast-like Mason slammed into the metallic platform, Blake launched himself off the side. He hovered well out of claw range—unless Mason jumped off the platform, of course, but that risked a rather unpleasant drop for several hundred meters. It wasn't likely to kill him, but it would give Blake a lot more time. And it would hurt.

Blake fully expected the bow to come out instead. Controlling arrows wasn't too hard, and Blake's Partitioned 'trigger' effects would save him from even an unexpected shot. He floated a bit further out with Telekinesis, trying to not even look at the orbs for fear that Mason would go over and start smashing them, or something. He channeled a quick Arcane Blast to keep some attention.

"This is ridiculous," Mason said, just standing there. As ever, his shapeshifted voice was deeper, but still familiar, like something Blake had heard before but couldn’t quite place. It almost sounded like an old Disney cartoon. Like he'd literally plucked it right from...

"Beauty and the Beast!" Blake snapped his fingers as his Partitioned Mind kept channeling. "God damn. That's what you sound like. Jesus that was bothering me."

"This isn't a fucking joke," Mason said. Blake rolled his eyes. His channel finished and he swiped it across his brother's chest, leaving a small gash of blood through the already ruined green armor. They both looked at the pitiful wound heal.

"Ridiculous is from Latin for 'worthy of ridicule and contemptuous laughter'," Blake said. "So by your own admission it is exactly a joke."

The bow finally made its appearance. Arrow after arrow zinged through the air harmlessly as Blake turned them aside.

"A little help here, Navi,” he muttered. “What on Earth am I supposed to do to him?"

Blake's cute little floating familiar dropped down beside him and made a pouty face.

"That is beyond my expertise, Master. I can tell you however, that..."

Navi made a cute little gasp as she vanished with a crack. Blake blinked and watched the construct fall in two separate pieces, Mason's Power Shot still whipping through towards the far side of the arena. Blake narrowed his eyes and met his brother's, who sort of grinned for the first time.

He didn’t have a Partitioned trigger for that.

More arrows flew, and Blake continued deflecting them. A piece of him knew his brother was correct. This did seem pretty much hopeless and pointless. Mason was like a regenerating tank and Blake was like a drone armed with a .22. But all it took was a glance at his new objective of divine patronage to remind him it actually mattered.

What difference, really, if Mason or Blake won the final prize? They were number one and two, allies forever, no matter what happened here. And if Blake won it meant he got an additional prize, maybe actually putting him a bit closer to his brother in power. Mason couldn't be everywhere. He would need equals to protect and defend the world alongside him. That's all Blake wanted to be.

Well. Maybe a little better. But only ever to occasionally rub Mason's face in it. Privately. At the dinner table.

"You should at least give me some time," Blake said. "I’d have a damn army first if we fought in the real world. We could back off, then you could beat all my constructs. Wait until I'm..."

"Fine. You want to fight now? We'll have it out now. I told you," Mason shouted with a surprisingly angry snarl, his bow vanishing. "No more mind powers on my people. You did it anyway. And not just something small. You nearly broke that man. Carl. Our Carl. You made him kill a girl he loves like a daughter. You think he'll just bounce back from that, you prick? Don't you fucking understand what you did?"

Blake sighed. It hadn't been ideal, obviously, but the mind was a resilient thing. And Blake could have gone much further. He’d tricked the man’s mind, working with it rather than break it, as Mason suggested.

"You're being dramatic. It's part of the game, brother. We all need to toughen up to these things. Isn't that what you're always saying? So I suggest..."

"Your whole life you’ve gotten a pass from me," Mason said, tone quieter now. "But it's in you, isn't it?"

"Alright. I'll bite.” Blake sighed. “What's in me, brother?"

Mason looked at him with that ridiculous, bestial face, his almost alien green eyes. It was increasingly hard to recognize the boy beneath, which was making Blake uncomfortable.

"Cruelty," he said, staring now. "Apathy. To...people beneath you."

"Christ. They're not beneath me," Blake said, feeling annoyed Mason suddenly didn’t understand. "They're just not...I mean it's you and me against the world, right? And they're the world."n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

"We were children, Blake. We were wrong."

What? Blake felt his eyes narrow and he threw up his hands. What the hell was Mason even on about? They weren’t a team anymore? The team?

"This is all just a game, brother,” he gestured at the arena. “That’s what it always was. Even before this. And we were always going to win. That’s the whole point. This is all part of the game, Mason!"

"No. We were wrong. I was wrong. It's not a game to me. Not anymore."

Blake put a hand to his face. When the hell had he become the practical, no-nonsense realist?

"What do you want me to say? Sorry? For using my powers? OK. Next time I won’t use my mind powers, and Carl can't use his dagger or turn invisible. There. Is that fair? You're being ridiculous. We have to win. Do you think our enemies will go easy on us?"

Mason turned and walked down the platform, and Blake winced when he saw where he was going. The orbs could be consumed (and probably destroyed), but they couldn't be moved. Blake had tried already with Telekinesis, and all it did was use the power prematurely.

"Let's not be too hasty," he called, starting a high mana True Making channel with his orb boost and Duality of Ambition. "We can't have a proper show if you go and ruin all the fun."

Mason extended his Claws, and Blake grabbed him with Telekinesis. For a moment they fought as Blake's super-charged mana drained. He couldn't do much but hold Mason still no matter how hard he pulled. But he didn't need long...

Mason growled and strained against the invisible force, grabbing the platform's rail and bending it as he marched step after step. It was damn impressive and Blake almost grinned as they fought, pleased at the chance to really face something at the limits of his power.

Blake held him long enough. His Arcane Defender finished and swirled into existence in front of the orbs, huge hands opening as it came forward to seize and burn. Mason slashed it with his claws, breaking off bits and pieces but unable to just destroy the huge thing outright.

Blake decided it was now or never. No matter how many constructs he summoned he knew they'd fail, and probably just make his brother stronger. His Arcane Blast was pitifully weak. And he couldn't imagine how he'd use Telekinesis to do the job. Drop a platform on him from terminal velocity? He still doubted it would work.

The only thing Blake could think of was to shatter Mason's mind badly enough he tricked him into surrendering, or temporarily stopped his powers from working. And then he could kill him...maybe, just by throwing him off the platform.

It wouldn't be a…pleasant thing, but eventually Mason would understand. Once Blake explained the divine patronage, once he gained his new powers and formed a house of his own, uniting huge numbers of allies to defend Nassau.

He would understand, and they'd be friends again. In the meantime they’d still be brothers, and Blake could handle some temporary anger. It would serve them both with subterfuge plots against the east. Blake would explain it all one day.

As his Defender and Mason again locked arms in the small space, Blake floated down behind him and held up his demonic necklace. He grabbed two more orbs with Telekinesis, boosting his Mental Influence and re-filling his mana.

He hoped the lightning and all the arrows in a non-natural setting had drained Mason's mana enough. Blake's mind powers worked best on a tired mind.

He opened Influence and watched the long list of knowledge of his brother fill his vision. He would use what he needed to, poking holes of doubt, breaking him down until Mind Rend could shatter what remained.

Mason was the strongest person he'd ever known. It would probably only be hours until he was fine. In fact, it would probably make him stronger. Better to have a trusted ally truly test his mental defences for any sign of weakness. Better to see what might happen here in a 'fake' battle instead of later in a real one.

One day, he would probably even be thankful. He would understand Blake was correct in this as he was in his approach to the game in general. He would see Blake's vision come together in something more practical, more real, something he could understand. And he would remember why he had always trusted Blake to know what to do.

Yes. It would all work out fine, just as it always did. They would both get what they wanted, and come out stronger than ever.

The world filled with arcane and psionic power, and Blake reached for his brother's mind.