The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 485: The life seed

The sound of the Great Tree’s weight bending and breaking metal was hard to think of as ‘good’. Even if it was the goal. Mason felt a bit like he was in a building that was falling apart. Or at least under it.

But the same structure that was holding the tree up was also damaging it somehow—the magic metal either designed for or accidentally corrupting the tree’s life and magic. When it came to ‘Makers’, Mason honestly had no idea if these were mustache twirling villains, or over-zealous scientist types.

But at this point it didn’t make much difference. To save this tree, or at least stop the corruption from getting worse, it was clear he had to undo whatever they’d done. He kept loosing acid arrows at structural bindings and joints, weakening them as Streak took point in distracting their enemies.

Except those enemies were becoming a horde.

Mason yet again ran back to help clear the growing cluster of oil-monsters and skelementals, finding Streak herding them around like a sheep dog in reverse. He was covered in blood again, and Mason sighed as he anticipated soaking up the wounds, not to mention the explosions.

This time he decided to explode a few with his bow. He ran beside the moving mass of creatures, loosing Exploiting Strikes on a few to build up the ‘charges’, or whatever the hell you called it. The power got more and more damaging with every hit, and after three arrows in each he suspected the next would blow them up.

By the time several of the creatures noticed him and started to turn, he unleashed the kill shots with a speed that would have been utterly impossible a few months ago.

Between his Endless Quiver forming arrows without drawing, and his inhuman reflexes and aim, Mason loosed a Power Shot, Exploiting Strike, Crippling Strike, and two more arrows at about the same speed he used to shoot twice.

Skelementals went off in a chain reaction. Flame and shrapnel erupted in the horde, blasting oily goo in every direction before the next explosion scattered them the other way. Even as the debris cleared Mason loosed more Exploiting Strikes on cooldown, setting off the delightful creatures one by one.

He couldn’t help but smile at the end, enjoying the quick destruction and few remnants of oil monsters. As his melee powers and regeneration innates had increased over the levels, he’d probably gotten too used to getting close and mixing it up. He’d started off ranged, after all, and he still believed not much beat the ability to strike at a distance.

It also occurred to him he’d been learning druid runes and really hadn’t tried any spells. Mostly they’d thus far felt unnecessary, and his fights had been so nasty there wasn’t much time for screwing around. Maybe now with no one at risk except him, and an apparently infinite collection of enemies, it was a good time to practice…

After another round of acid arrows into metallic structure, Mason lay some traps to run to and let Streak herd the oil monsters around before focusing on his magic.

He had three natural ‘runes’, or a kind of understanding of an ancient language used by the supposed gods of this plane, according to ‘Eve’, the avatar of another great tree in the north.

All he had to do to use them was re-create them, basically with visual imagination, on something he could see.

For extra complexity, he could combine the runes in whatever shape or order he wanted, though what exactly would happen he couldn’t be sure. Eve had said he would need years to practice and experiment—to get the language in the correct order to make ‘words’ that were basically spells.

But he’d figured out one already—‘Tree’ and ‘Ice’, one placed in the other (at least it worked last time…), which made a kind of snaring, frozen root trap. It wasn’t likely to kill these things, but it sure might slow them down.

Mason had the symbols easily in his mind, as familiar somehow as the shape of a letter in the alphabet. He jogged beside the pack of creatures and focused on the ground at their feet, suddenly wondering if it mattered how big he imagined the symbols. He had to assume it did.

He tried to imagine the tree, or ‘Arboreal’ symbol covering damn near the whole pack, though it was hard to picture it at an angle and with a lot of creatures in the way. In fact he soon discovered it was impossible. The creatures getting in the way ruined the lines, and he couldn’t get the feeling of…completion he usually did.

So apparently he needed ‘open’ space.

He ran out ahead and used flat ground just behind Streak, quickly ‘stamping’ the symbol all at once instead of drawing it before slicing the simpler lines of ice inside it. This time it ‘completed’ with a very satisfying crackle, and Mason’s mana took a sizable hit.

The symbols glowed in his vision, almost inactive until the creatures chasing Streak ran over them. Roots like cables instantly ripped out of the floor, a white, almost snowy silhouette around them as they grabbed and wrapped themselves around anything that moved.

Mason stopped and watched, grinning as he saw the vines didn’t just grab, they crushed. Oil monsters were popping open, others looked like they’d slowed down to a crawl as the frozen vines seemed to harden them too much to move.

It was one hell of a success, and he was getting ready to try something else when little hairs started rising up all over his body. He turned and activated Aspect of the Cheetah, bolting straight away from the tree at full speed as he unsummoned Streak.

With a horrible screech and groan, the whole metal structure holding the tree started unravelling. Mason could have sworn he heard the tree scream.

**

Mason decided he should have planned the tree’s fall a little better. Or, you know, at all. Operation ‘Save Nexus Beacons’ didn’t really work if the giant tree fell directly on top of them.

Somehow the bracing structure had come apart at a particular angle, rather than straight down. The whole tree came sliding out instead of falling, as if aimed straight at one side of the cave.

On the plus side, it pretty much crushed every last remaining creature spawned from the beacons.

On the downside, it also crushed every single beacon. Which promptly exploded.

Green fire erupted everywhere, filling the cave with enough light that Mason closed his eyes and launched himself to the floor. The last thing he saw was Apex Predator flicker like it wasn’t sure Elemental would do the job, but had no idea what else to do.

He avoided the worst of it. The skin on his arms and back and head ignited with pain, but it ended quickly, and for Mason it was more like a light burn. When the awful crashing and exploding noises stopped, he stood up with a sheepish wince and tried to inspect the damage.

First off, the tree was on fire. So, that wasn’t great. Huge portions of it looked dead, and therefore dry and brittle and very flammable. They’d gone up like a dead pine tree, burning bright and hot and fast.

Without waiting to see what else had happened, Mason decided he needed to somehow put out the flames and save whatever remained of the living tree. He ran out picturing the ice rune, ready to just try drawing on things or maybe reversing the tree/ice runes to see what it would do.

Turned out the tree wasn’t just on fire. It had crumbled in the fall—breaking apart with dead branches and vines lying everywhere like debris from a plane crash. Mason knew it had all been done long before he got there, but he couldn’t help but feel terrible for whatever damage he’d caused.

He picked his way through as fast as possible, trying and failing to imagine his ice rune over anything that burned. He mixed in Arboreal, even his other rune, Stone, trying different combinations and sizes and locations. It was all useless.

He could have used his freeze snare again but he had no idea what else it might do, what new damage it might cause. He finally gave up and just looked for life, eventually pushing past the endless strings of vine to find what remained of the trunk.

With a moment of hesitation, he put his hand against the dead wood and cast Speak with Nature.

Pain shivered through his arm. He closed his eyes and listened to the stubborn scream of a thing that refused to give up, refused to die.

Must…hold, it whispered in his mind. Secrets. Lost…all lost. Unless…

Mason felt what the tree meant, a growing panic and impatience soon entering his own mind. Somewhere inside the tree were memories like those he’d once plucked from Eve—memories of what had happened to it, and a desperate need to tell someone before it slept.

“Show me,” Mason said, taking deep breaths as he tried to brace himself. A shuddering sigh echoed through his mind as the thing released whatever it had been holding for God knew how long. The feeling was like a dam finally breaking, with Mason standing just beyond, staring up at the cracks and the water rushing through.

He activated Inner Fire, gripped the nymph charm buried under his armor, and tried to put as much mental strength into his Blessing of Gaia as he could. Somehow he had to stand in the awful torrent of pain and memory that was maybe hundreds of years old. But he’d done it before. He could do it again.

The stream poured over him, his senses overwhelmed and going dark until he blinked and saw the tree’s memories clear as daylight.

“No one can know,” whispered a man in robes, handing some kind of green orb to what looked like a druid beside the great tree.

“They’ll hunt you for this,” said the druid, his face clear enough to know it was the same man trapped in the bunker above. “Death and all its minions.”

“Doesn’t matter.” The man in robes smiled sadly. “I’ve made my mistakes. We all have. But this gives life another chance.”

“We may still win,” said the druid, taking the sphere with reverence. “We might not need it.”

“We may.” The robed man smiled. “Goodbye, my friend. Keep it safe. What’s left of the Makers will fight this demon to the end. That I promise you. We have one final trick up our sleeves, and we may destroy it yet.”

“As I have told you many times, it’s not a demon,” said the druid. “It is a god of the old world. The incarnation of death itself. It cannot be destroyed. Only delayed. You and your wizards waste valuable time and effort if you…”

The robed man waved a hand to cut him off, as if annoyed at an old argument. “You will fight it in your way, druid. And we will fight it in ours. I only pray one of us is right.”

The druid smiled and took the other man’s hand, speaking as if both genuine and making some kind of joke.

“May Gaia watch over you.”

“And you, old friend.”

The men parted, the memory vanishing into mist before Mason was sucked through a kind of portal with another wave of pain. This time he flew like a bird, looking down on a battlefield that stretched from one side of the horizon to the other.

Hordes of the living dead shambled across the world. But they weren’t alone. Men in dark robes walked with them, surrounded by monstrous creatures that Mason recognized as foreign to the ‘primal’ plane—demons of every imaginable kind.

Mason flew across plains and forests, watching living things in endless variety fleeing or gathering to fight. He saw Makers—Makers with armies of constructs and allied forces surrounded in arcane power, including centaur.

Were there different factions of Makers? Or was Mason seeing a timeline he didn’t fully understand? The Makers he’d seen last time had been trying to hurt Eve and a great tree, or at least use magic to capture or control it. Were these ones different? Had they come after? Before?

His mind swirled and vanished before the battle began. He blinked his real eyes open to find a bundle of roots in the shape of a man limping towards him. The thing was dry and brittle and looked mostly dead. It stumbled and collapsed, hissing with obvious pain as it fell to its knees.

Mason recognized the tree’s avatar. A thing like Eve. He lunged forward and caught the creature, kneeling in front of it.

“Survived…” the thing groaned, meeting Mason’s eyes with what little moisture it still had leaking down its ragged face.

“Survived…just long enough.”

It reached a gnarled, bone-like hand into its chest, the roots parting as it withdrew a green sphere and held it out in offering.

“A chance,” it hissed. “The last seed of creation. Do not waste it.”

Mason felt the creature dying through Speak with Nature.

“Can’t you use it? It’s alright. Save yourself. I don’t need it.”

The thing met his eyes, and he could have sworn its ‘mouth’ curled in a smile.

“We are both called to protect life, young druid. Sometimes…the call is hard. Sometimes all we can do is hold on, just a little longer, for the next guardian to come. Take it. I rest now.”

Mason nodded, resisting the urge to say he could try to help with his Blessing of Gaia. That he could maybe do something. He sensed the relief of the thing, the overwhelming desire to lie down and put an end to a suffering he could barely imagine.

“You have helped,” it whispered, as if reading his mind. “Tell the old druid I’m sorry for what he suffered. That I couldn’t…” the thing blinked and shivered, then collapsed to the stone in a poof of dust.

Mason clenched his jaw and stared, feeling the connection severed. Eventually he forced his eyes away, and held up the ‘seed’.

[Item gained: Life Seed. Natural artifact. Properties unknown.]