The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 432: First, the cost

Apex Predator and First Blood were flaring red with warning. Mason felt (and smelled) Blake's magic probing, wrapping around his senses like a poisonous fog.

He wanted to pretend he was surprised. But he wasn't. The son of a bitch was unbelievable. On the back of being chastised for using his powers on Carl, now he was trying to do the same to Mason.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

And why? What the hell was the point? Did he think he could honestly beat Mason by giving him the world's worst headache? Or did he think he could somehow make him catatonic and finish him?

Mason had known from the beginning that being off limits to his brother's mind power was a problem. It wasn't malicious. It was…curiosity. Blake was like the world's most annoying cat, running into every room and playing with everything that dangled because he just had to see what happened. If he got slapped or sprayed enough he'd move on without much concern. It wasn't personal, it was just his nature.

Today, apparently, it was time to fuck around and find out.

Mason clamped down with Apex Predator like a steel trap. He felt Blake's Mental Influence cut off and go limp, the cord of the magic severed as Mason soldiered on through the diminishing Telekinesis.

A sound like thunder shook his whole body. A screaming, laughing voice followed, echoing around the darkening arena as Mason fought to stay standing. It wasn't arcane or psionic. It was…something else. Something that stunk like sulfur and rotting egg and made Mason gag.

With the smell came a kind of mental fog, like Mason was drinking moonshine mixed with paint and losing IQ in the double digits every second. He spun and saw his brother's hand on his necklace.

"What...the fuck...is that thing?" he snarled.

Blake shrugged as if apologetic, but kept one hand on the necklace, the other raising with palm held out. Again Mental Influence probed and ripped at Mason like a physical thing, warring with Apex Predator in a kind of mental siege.

Mason turned back to his real job. He broke free from the Telekinesis, racing towards the cluster of orbs and slashing them one by one with his Claws.

"Shiiiit," he heard Blake cursing behind him.

The mental assault was still coming. Again the horrible thunder blared with evil laughter. Again the stink and closing off of some of Mason's thoughts. But not enough to matter.

Orbs, he thought. Break orbs. Orbs bad.

Something was trying to stop him. But it was weak and stupid. Mason laughed as he ripped apart the blue spheres, watching the stinking magic leak out and drip off the platform. That's what you get, he thought, watching them ooze away. Stupid, smelly orbs.

"God damnit," said some annoying voice. "Why won't you just...lay down...and let me...have this!"

Next, Mason was going to shut up that annoying voice. Then he was going to get rid of that stink. He turned and roared as he raced towards the source of both, fighting the same weak force that thought it could stop him.

He felt his muscles growing, his body thickening and getting heavier. He smiled because that's what always happened before Mason won. He took step after step before he looked up and saw a horrible...creature, with a human face. He froze as he stared, memory whipping through the empty halls of his mind like a hurricane.

It had a woman's face. His woman.

The wonderful, beautiful blonde girl he loved was hissing and slithering towards him. But that made no sense. She had the body of a snake, and her jaw distended to bite with big fangs.

Mason caught her by the throat. Why would she betray him? And more importantly, why was she a snake?

These were questions Mason seemed no longer capable of answering. But it was a trick. It had to be. He roared in fury and snapped off its monstrous head, knowing only there was a thing hurting him and it was going to die.

He heard a sound, a terrible sound. Then a boom and more laughter, laughter that shook the world in reds and purples and washed over him like a wave on the beach. And it was filled with snakes. Why was it always fucking snakes?

Mason screamed and tried to get them off. He looked at his hands and saw claws, but that made no sense. What was he wearing? Some kind of green and brown leather covered in fur? Except the hair…it was his. Why was he so hairy? And why did everything stink?

He fought against something that was trying to lock his limbs but he couldn't see any rope or chains or anything at all. It felt a little like water except he could breathe. Where was he? Why the hell did his head hurt so much? And what was that smell?

He blinked and looked up to see a face. A familiar face, somehow, though he had almost nothing left in his mind to grasp. The face flickered with a little blonde haired, blue eyed boy with a wide, impish smile. He looked like a devious angel, and Mason heard the whisper of a name but forgot it. It didn’t matter. This was his brother. His family. And he would know it anywhere. He smiled with relief as he stumbled forward.

"What's happening?" he asked, taking step after step to get to his brother, fighting against the strange force stopping him. "Are you alright? Are you OK?”

He couldn't remember his brother's name. This confused and enraged him, like someone had stolen it. And his brother's face was…pale, and blue. He was grabbing at his throat, at some kind of jewelry around his neck. He was in pain.

Mason threw off the force holding him back and sprinted to his brother just as he fell. He caught him and eased him to the strange metal platform, trying not to hurt him with his monstrous hands.

It made no sense. It had to be a nightmare. It had to be.

His brother was gasping for air with panic in his eyes. Mason tried to pull at the jewelry, to slip one of his big, unwieldy fingers underneath and snap it. But he couldn't do anything. He was afraid he’d hurt his brother with his stupid, useless claws. How the hell did you even get this on? he wanted to shout.

"Help!" he roared, looking for someone, anyone. But they were alone—alone in some awful place, far above the ground. He looked into his brother's bulging eyes and felt tears down his cheek. "How do I help? I can't...I can't think." He put his hands to his head and winced at the pain.

His brother was dying. There was something in his brain trying to tell him something, that he could do something to his brother's throat, open it somehow to help him breathe. But he didn't know how. He didn't understand. And he was too afraid to just slash at it with his nightmarish hands.

His brother's eyes had rolled back. The strange force finally stopped trying to crush him. The head ache and fog was clearing ever so slightly, but not fast enough. Mason dropped to his brother's chest and gripped him, feeling his body shake with a broken sob.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice strange and alien. "I'm sorry."

He twitched as some kind of instrument blared. He thought maybe help was coming. Then all around him, from every side of this awful place, he saw people standing and watching him through some kind of glass. He tried to call for help, but his voice was drowned out by the never-ending sound of clapping hands.

They clapped and clapped as his brother died. And he screamed in rage and swiped at their stupid faces. But it made no difference, either.

* * *

Blake woke and grabbed for his throat. For a moment he stared into the endless darkness, wondering if he was truly dead. All he could see was the last look in Mason's eyes.

The confusion. The terror. The love. As his mind had broken down from the series of Mind Rends, he must have forgotten what they were doing or why. He'd clearly had almost nothing left. The final thing his mind, the very last thing besides his name he’d held onto, was his memory of Blake.

So. Maybe this was hell. Maybe it was time to sit in darkness and see nothing but the innocence in Mason's eyes, trapped with the knowledge of his own betrayal. All Blake’s reasons and justifications suddenly felt like ash in his mouth. What in the name of God had he done?

A tear dripped down his cheek as he saw his brother's eyes. It was like he'd looked up into two green suns, the imprints burnt into his vision. What had he been doing? How had he convinced himself to do something like that to Mason? And for what?

"Very good. Very entertaining," said a melodic voice in the darkness. “You like these, don’t you?”

A million stars blinked into existence, and Blake felt the presence of the same 'god' that had somehow summoned him before.

A lot of thoughts went through his mind. Fuck you to start, for giving an objective to hurt his brother. Followed possibly by what do you want? Or just leave me alone. But it got more opportunistic after that...

"You almost had him, you know," said the voice. "You broke the mind of the horned god's monster. You almost had him."

"Yes," Blake said, feeling bile rise to his throat. "I'm glad someone enjoyed it."

Laughter. From every direction. Some cruel, some genuine, some…insane. Blake was reminded he wasn't talking to an 'it' but a 'they'.

"Well now that your unpleasant defeat is out of the way, we have decided to grace you with our favor."

Blake blinked. What? The objective had been to win.

"We didn't truly care if you won," said the voice, as if reading his mind. "We would have preferred it if you had. Mostly we just couldn't allow our champion to lose. Certainly not to that muscled fool of a 'god'. You see? Now that you’ve lost on your own, we will build you up. Next time, we expect, you will do better."

Blake again tried to blink away the image of Mason's final expression and failed. It was somehow seared into his vision, the green light of Mason's eyes looking at him with concern, with love, even as Blake was trying to 'kill' him.

"I have no interest in fighting my brother again, win or lose," he said with a shudder. "If that's what you want from me, then thank you, I'm not interested."

"Is it?” The thing paused as if talking to itself. “No, we don't think it is." The voices buzzed like a swarm of insects. "We already approve of your plans, Blake Nimitz. So carry on. We see your cunning now. Make the world dance to your silly little human tune. When you are ready, we will help you build an orchestra."

Blake felt his heart beating faster now. He had somehow snatched victory from the jaws of defeat. What exactly this god could do for him he had no idea, but he was sure it was more than nothing.

And he had seen Mason 'switch' his allegiances to a different god after deciding he hadn't enjoyed it. Blake expected he could one day do the same—that agreeing now wouldn't bind him in any meaningful way. He had to get his foot in the deific door, so to speak.

"How exactly will you help me?" he asked, trying not to smile as he felt the shift in interest. "I'm doing pretty well on my own."

Some voices laughed. Others scoffed. Others snarled.

"Observe, little maker. What can be done with true power."

One of the infinite stars grew in size and intensity. The light came closer and closer, until it filled the 'space' Blake was floating in with light...and heat. It got worse and worse, until Blake was trying to shield his face. But he could see through his eyelid, he could see through his hand. Soon he saw his own skeleton as clear as day.

His flesh burned. He tried and failed to scream, to stop it, to hide. Then it all vanished in an instant, and again Blake was floating in peaceful space surrounded by his swarm of divine fish.

His profile blinked. He opened it and scanned his prestige class and powers, watching the text change before his eyes.

His ‘Makers Apprentice’ prestige class blurred and faded, replaced with new text. His True Making power also shimmered and glowed with blue light.

[New Prestige Class Available. Psion’s Apprentice. New Prestige Class Power: Primordial Making. Makers play freely with the blocks of the universe, but they are charlatans and copy-cats, making nothing of their own. We will teach you how to make new blocks.]

"True Making," hissed the melodic voice. "What nerve. What arrogance. The only true thing about the makers was their stupidity. We will teach you the essence of creation. We will teach you where true power comes from. If you have the will to learn."

Yes. I do. I have.

Blake accepted the unanswered question floating in his profile. He blinked to clear away the green of Mason’s eyes one more time, gripping this new opportunity as at least some compensation for what he’d done.

The blue colors sizzled and locked in, the text swirling and clarifying with a thick finality. Blake groaned as the power warped him, his gem glowing in his palm. He heard Navi crying in terror in his mind, screaming for help.

It's alright, he thought but couldn’t say. Don't fight it. Change is painful.

And he was glad for the pain—glad he was paying at least some cost for hurting his brother. He reminded himself again there was a purpose to suffering. Despite what he’d done, they'd both be stronger. Wouldn’t they?

Yes.

And they needed to be. That’s what the system was telling them. Maybe what roboGod himself was telling them. They had to be more, better, stronger. For what was to come. Whatever that was.

First the price, he thought, keeping his eyes wide open as the energy scorched him like fire. First, the cost. Only then, power.