The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 412: Mason v Jeong

Mason kept his feet moving, and tried to keep Jeong's fists from hitting his head. He'd been knocked dizzy from several blows, and he knew if he got knocked out entirely he probably wouldn't wake up.

The 'emperor' was strong, obscenely strong, though not as strong as a mountainous elemental giant. The problem, fundamentally, was how fast he was.

Here in a natural environment, when Aspect of the Cheetah was active, Mason moved about the same speed. But he'd already used it and had to wait a couple minutes before he could use it again.

Meanwhile, Jeong just kept after him, throwing punches at various angles, seemingly happy to hit whatever he could. Every hit was like a blunted lance jammed into Mason from a charging horse.

Mason tried to take the hits on his arms. Failing that, he just tried not to take it in the face. Besides his Vitality and Transformation, the only thing keeping him from getting knocked out was his opponent's smaller reach.

Despite Jeong's speed, Mason largely managed to keep his head away and block. But his torso was getting pounded. As the Emperor slipped in a jab, a rib cracked with an audible snap, the air blasted from Mason’s lungs.

He backed away and spit blood, holding his breath as he grit his teeth against the pain. The emperor kept on without pause, a slight smile on his face as his eyes relaxed. He thought he’d gained the measure of things now.

Hit by hit, Mason’s body broke, then healed. He struck back every several seconds like clockwork, each hit allowed through by the emperor, bouncing off that shield like it was nothing.

"I didn't think I'd enjoy this so much," Jeong said in a rare pause, just as calm and collected as the moment they'd began. "I know you're healing. But it makes no difference. I don't ever tire."

The emperor came in as nearly a blur to Mason’s eyes, another low jab deflected off his hip with a painful crack. The other warrior had just been watching from a short distance away, but he was coming forward now with a scowl.

"We should finish him," he said. "He may have tricks we haven't seen."

Jeong snorted, hammering another punch into Mason's chest and knocking him back a few steps to spit more blood.

"His attacks are pitiful. He's not arcane or divine. There's no power so dramatic in any natural class that could possibly save him."

The other man said nothing, still watching with careful eyes. He didn't look convinced. Wise, Mason thought, you should listen to your friend, Jeong. The clock is ticking.

Transformation, of course, was doing its work. The moment the first blow landed Mason started directing its energy into his body, as internally focused as possible. He didn’t want the changes to be too obvious.

With every blow breaking him or knocking him back he was getting heavier. Denser. His flesh was thickening like hide, his bones expanding and hardening even as they repaired the cracks and breaks from Jeong's fists.

"He's taller," said the other fighter. "He's bigger than when you started."

Jeong frowned and stepped back. He looked Mason up and down, eyes narrowing as he scanned.

"I see it. Some kind of strength that grows with time. You’re more clever than I thought, maybe. It won't help you, but still, Damian is right, as usual. I've been holding back, my dear Baron. But it’s time to finish this."

Holding back my ass, Mason thought.

But Jeong was right about one thing—it looked like the ruse was over.

Mason stopped acting like he was hurt and suffering. Compared to the damage he'd taken in the past, so far this was almost...disappointing.

“If you wanted to kill me,” he said, rolling his shoulders, “you should have done it a long time ago.”

He shook with a growl as he activated Shapeshift, joints popping with a horrible sound but no pain as his coiled and hardened muscles shifted.

"I'll hold him," said Jeong, rushing forward now as his partner formed some kind of...war-pick in his hands.

Mason decided he'd rather not have that thing driven into his skull.

As Mason's body still twisted with growing bestial features, Jeong grabbed for his forearms. Duality of Strength had already been tick ticking away, but it flared now with real enthusiasm as Mason strained.

Jeong was still stronger. He squeezed Mason’s wrists like a vice, pulling down his arms in a slow but inevitable press. As their skin stayed in contact, the emperor’s strange shield moved like liquid gold over his skin, the man’s eyes focused on Mason's face as he struggled to hold him still.

But sometimes ant-like strength wasn't enough. Only in comic book movies did some super-strong man stand perfectly still as he got hit by a bus. That just wasn't how physics worked.

Mason lifted Jeong off the ground by standing to his full height and raising his arms. He was towering over the emperor now, and probably weighed four or five times as much.

The smaller man kicked him full force in the chest. He grunted and stepped back, another rib maybe cracking before it started to heal.

Mason didn't really give a shit. He turned and ran, leaving the second warrior easily behind as Jeong kept thrashing and kicking him.

"Be right back," Mason called over his shoulder, rushing into the nearby trees. He activated the renewed Aspect of the Cheetah again, sprinting through the woods as he felt his strength increase with every step, every blow, every second.

The 'pathetic blows' he'd been hitting Jeong with were actually Exploiting Strikes. He’d pulled them intentionally, landing softly not to make attention, just to build the 'charges' he could feel growing with every blow. The real difficulty had actually become holding them back, because every activation now felt like a massive force trying to propel his hand forward.

Jeong’s body started to glow, probably with some power he’d been holding in reserve. The same liquid gold that surrounded his skin shone brighter and brighter as he let go of Mason's wrist to free up a hand, then smashed him in the face.

It was like getting punched by the sun. The world exploded and Mason went blind, but he held on. He felt himself staggering drunkenly through the trees, but he seized Jeong’s arm again and gripped with all his strength.

The emperor resisted, and Duality of Strength flared and pulsed as it once had when Mason strained against Rochmananoch. Maybe the son of a bitch had been holding back.

The blinding light was slowly dimming, pulled apart by little black dots as Mason blinked and soon saw the green of the fake natural world. He spit blood and a few teeth in the emperor’s face, watching it drip down that golden shield.

He smiled and let go of one of the emperor’s arms when Duality stopped ticking, grabbing the man’s throat. They were in a small clearing in the trees, the emperor still dangling off the ground in Mason’s grip.

"Go on," he growled, licking blood off his lips. "Break me like you've broken all those weak little things you call warriors."

Mason let go of Jeong's other arm. He dropped his guard and focused all his attention on crushing the smaller man’s throat in a clawed fist.

Duality of Strength flared again and went wild as the golden shield flickered. Jeong tried to pull off the hand around his throat and failed. He kicked Mason's thighs and chest and crotch. It hurt. But who gave a shit.

Jeong’s small body bounced away with his ant-like strength, gravity fighting against him. He grabbed at Mason's arm again, tried to break his elbow, punched his chest, missed his now out of reach chin.

"Is that all?" Mason roared as he squeezed. "This is what broke the east?"

Whatever the hell was happening with Duality of Strength, Mason literally felt like he was on fire.

Incredible heat was flooding down his limb, Transformation mostly just trying to keep his hand from breaking. His arm was changing before both their eyes, thickening and losing color as it seemed to turn a greyish green.

Mason blinked as he stared, because he soon began to recognize it. It looked like Cerebus.

Jeong's eyes were wild with rage and panic now. He pulled at Mason's fingers and kept striking him with glowing golden kicks. But it was too late for any of that.

Mason heard Damian coming and ran again, smashing Jeong through trees as he raced across the generated woods. When he was through he walked out into the tall grass with his hand still on Jeong's throat.

"Maybe I can't kill you," said the emperor, finally relaxing. "But you can't kill me, either. Not like this. No matter how hard you squeeze."

"Maybe," Mason said, forming his shorter Claw in his other hand. “Let’s try this.”

He activated Exploiting Strike and drove the blade into Jeong's gut. The speed and force were incredible, the green blade colliding with a spark and metallic ring so loud it sounded like a bell.

Mason didn't hesitate. He pulled back the blade and drove it again, then again, using Exploiting Strike on its very fast cooldown as Jeong just stared and waited.

"My faith protects me," the emperor said, looking up at the sky. "The devotion and loyalty of a hundred thousand souls. The favor of a god who wishes to save mankind from barbarians like you. You cannot harm me. You cannot..."

The golden shield shattered. Mason's sword pierced and slammed into Jeong's chest. The smaller man's eyed widened as his words cut off, staring as if in incomprehension. He looked down at the blade sticking through him, the blood leaking down his gi. Then his eyes flickered as the trumpet blared. Mason tossed his body to the ground.

He flexed his Cerebus-like hand and remembered he was supposed to make the man surrender. A kill would have to be enough. He looked up to see the other warrior coming out of the trees, staring at the ground before looking up like he hardly understood what he was seeing.

Mason walked towards him, not actually knowing what the man's powers were. But seeing as he was so filled with strength and power it was hard to walk without bouncing, it was a little hard to care.

"You don't get mercy," he snarled, the lust of the kill still fresh and coursing through his veins. The Brazilian took a breath and twirled the pick in his hands.

"This isn't the first time I've seen him die."

Mason wanted to just charge and kill this man, but he waited, warring with curiosity. Damian seemed to sense it.

"You and me, we aren't so different, I think. I was ready for all this. I enjoy it." Here he smiled as he met Mason's eyes. "But not little Jeong. When I met him, I thought he would die in a day. He fought a goblin and almost did, wrestling in his own blood with this thing in the dirt. He bit out its throat to survive, then stitched his own arm."

Mason was losing interest quickly. He took another step forward and Damian raised his pick and a hand for calm.

"He died a week in," Damian said, which at least got Mason to pause. "Fought to the last breath. Nevermind he was weak, and outmatched, he held his spot in the line until he dropped with a spear through his neck. Then I watched him pluck it out, pale as a corpse, and golden light replaced his blood. I'd suspected already this strange, little man was something different. A man who'd been chosen, maybe by God, maybe by fate. In that moment I knew it for certain."

Mason snorted. "He looked plain old dead to me."

"Yet he lives. And sooner or later, he'll beat you. He’s not just some man who got lucky. Like you and me. He’ll win in the end."

Mason almost laughed thinking about his experience being 'lucky'. Oh he’d had his moments, no doubt, but without knowing the outcome, he couldn’t imagine anyone would have taken his initial circumstances.

I’m just a sheep dog, he was tempted to say. But the whole world was watching and he needed something better. He wasn't sure what he'd say before he did. But it felt right. He bared his regrown, shapeshifted teeth, activating Inner Fire and hoping his eyes flared with the magic's brightness.

"I'm not a man anymore, Damian, I’m the gargoyle men build on churches. And if I were you, I’d figure out which monstrous god chose that cruel piece of shit you serve. Because even though mine’s one of the better ones, he still wants me to eat your heart.”

The big Brazilian stared, no indication of anything in his eyes. Before Mason had taken another step, he held out his pick with the point aimed towards his chest, then fell flat forward.

The tip of the metal came out his back covered in blood, and the trumpet blared.

The system made some congratulatory noises. The world vanished and re-appeared in the cheering of Mason’s players all around him, but for a long moment he was mostly just angry to be denied the kill.

He'll beat you in the end, he heard the Brazilian's words again and grit his teeth. The game isn't a sprint, he heard Haley's words those many weeks back, still in the tutorial. It's a marathon.

For the moment he banished it all and grinned at his cheering players. He'd just knocked out his only real competition in the twos, which turned out to be less competition than he’d feared. He knew almost for certain now he was going to win the twos, and the individual matches as well. So today was a pretty good day.

He grabbed Becky and gave her a kiss, holding up an offered bottle of champagne with a wink.

“Two down,” he said. “How’d you boys do?”