The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 411: Team fight interlude

"It's the fecking wizards!" Seamus shouted, floating down from his hovering position above John.

Phuong (and probably everyone else on the six man team) winced. By 'wizards', Seamus meant what appeared to be a full team of casters all belonging to the Eastern 'guild', led by their Swedish leader, who'd apparently been a decent challenge for Blake.

And however powerful the other five players were, someone who was 'a decent challenge for Blake', was a fucking problem.

Every eye turned to Phuong. They'd discussed this possibility briefly, but hadn't watched nearly enough videos of the team fighting. What they had seen looked something like a firing line.

‘The wizards’ typically all just moved up in loose formation, got in range of something, and started bombarding with a frightening barrage of elemental and arcane magic.

Besides the eclectic powers of the Swede, they had a more 'support' or at least defensive oriented caster, maintaining what looked like a long, oval-shaped shield that could somewhat protect the whole group.

Another sent in 'pets', but these seemed mostly made out of magic and also very temporary, more like 'smart-missile' spells than Blake's constructs. Another used almost pure, rapid-fire projectiles. Another used mortar-like, bigger blasts. And the sixth...what the hell had the sixth even done? Phuong’s mind was blanking.

"We need to break them up as planned," he said. "I want a lot of fire raining down on that shield, Seamus. The rest of us are going to charge in at full speed. I want two spear walls splitting them up. Hopefully the shield will either be gone or won't last long when we reach it. It's an all out attack, killing them before they kill us. Alex...will try to keep us alive."

"It's 'a' plan, at least, like," Seamus said, then grinned. "Anyway, I can stop more than fire now, boyos. So if ya see spells comin’ at me, don't you worry, old Seamus'll be just fine."

Alex nodded, saying nothing, and Phuong put a hand on his shoulder. They both knew he was the most important person in the fight. How much magic he could actually stop was going to determine if the rest of them could get to the casters and kill them, or if their whole team was just going to burn.

They sure as hell could have used Mason. That was for sure. It was even 'natural' terrain, which would have made him even more terrifying.

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But Phuong had been in too many shit battles to worry about things he didn't have. And he definitely didn't have a mostly magic immune, arrow shooting, regenerating monster at his disposal. In war, you used what you had.

"The clock is against us," Phuong said. "I don't know what they can do with time, but more than us. We go full speed when they cross that little rise, and we charge."

"Like the fecking light brigade, aye?" Seamus slapped John on the arm. "Don't worry, big man, I'm pretty sure we won in the poem."

John frowned and cracked his knuckles one by one as the players all crawled forward and peeked over their hill. The wizards were coming out, probably to stand in what was basically open ground so they couldn't be ambushed from any direction.

They'd certainly seen Seamus just as he saw them, so it wouldn't exactly be a surprise. But beggars couldn't be choosers.

"Move," Phuong said, and the players all stood and raced over the hill.

* * *

Becky looked at the broken teeth sticking to her mace and tried to shake them off as the trumpet blared.

"Got 'em," she called, turning just to see Carl warp off into some kind of maze of pillars. They hadn't fought 'mushroom lady', as Tommaso hoped—not that they even knew if she was on a 3s team—or anyone else who seemed particularly frightening.

They'd fought some random batch of players from the east, and Tommaso had run around throwing glue and being generally annoying until Carl started murdering them. At least one of them.

Becky managed to get their archer while he was focused on chasing Carl. It was pretty satisfying, actually, if a little gross.

Now there was only one player left—some kind of utility-belt wearing, knife-wielding rogueish type, who was definitely really screwed. Apparently he wanted to play it out and hadn't surrendered, though, so they all got to chase him around.

"Don't out-run my aegis!" Becky called, walking towards the pillars. "I mean it goes pretty far, and all. But still. If you get yerself killed I swear we ain't never gonna let you..."

A trumpet blared. The arena fake clapped and faded as the system announced them the winners before Becky had time to cheer.

Then they were back in the promenade, grinning and high-fiving.

"OK, I’ll admit, your glue is kind of awesome," Carl said with a laugh. "That son of a bitch was fast and probably two seconds from hiding and making us take an hour. I have no idea how you actually hit him on the move."

"It's all in the wrist." Tommaso flicked a suggestive hand and winked, and Becky rolled her eyes. But actually the three of them did make a pretty great team.

"Shut up and let's pull up the others," she said, sliding into one of the booths. It was always better to watch a fight 'live'.

The system spruced up and edited the recorded ones, showing highlights and doing weird things with the 'camera' angles like it was some Japanese cartoon. When you watched live it was just the actual thing in all its brutal glory, usually from a few angles.

"I got the six," Carl said, widening the image to fit a screen built into the wall. Becky felt her eyes shoot up as she saw the Nassau players running across a field, straight into a swirling maelstrom of magic death.

"Shit," she said with a wince. "They got the Swede."

Carl whistled and slapped her arm, pointing at Alex in the back.

"Look at that magnificent bastard. They're all...I think…most of them are fucking shooting just him!"

Carl was right. Most of the magic power was whipping right past the others to streak into Alex. It was hard to tell exactly what was happening, but the Belarusian was more or less consumed in swirling flames all around his personal bubble, hands shooting up like he was playing dodgeball against a whole team.

Rebecca knew he was very tough to anything 'ranged', so he was probably the bane of the caster team's existence.

The Nassau’s melee finally closed and struck, ramming straight into some kind of shield. And smashing it in a second. Phuong, Garet, John, and Jason broke through and charged as phantom spears and more magic flashed in a clusterfuck of pure chaos.

Becky lost track of what the hell was even happening. She heard orders and screams all mixed up with color spraying in every direction. A trumpet blared. Another. Two more.

"Jesus," Carl said. "What's even happening?"

Rebecca shook her head, heart pounding as she looked for her friends.

"Do it! Do it now!" she heard Phuong yell. The sky went red. Then Seamus was coming in behind Alex covered in flames, and everything was on fire.

Another trumped. One more.

When it was over Rebecca saw a half burnt John and three-quarters burnt Phuong struggling against magic...snakes? Or living ropes?

What must have been Jason, Garet, and four wizards lay dead on the field. The Swede and one other were backing up still loosing blasts at John and Phuong.

But Seamus was untouched and loosing a stream of projectiles, and the casters had to turn their attention. The Irishman walked forward with Alex beside him, staff up and robes billowing as a never-ending stream of fire emerged like a flamethrower, slowly overtaking his targets.

The Swede finally stopped it, blowing a gust of what looked like hail right back until Seamus' fire flickered and died. John and Phuong roared and charged, the second caster making more of the 'snakes' until Phuong's stun hit him right in his stupid face.

"Got 'em!" Carl fist pumped as Phuong leapt over the coiled magic and slashed the bastard's head off. A trumpet blared, and the Swede vanished, re-appearing somewhere behind John.

Carl, Rebecca and Tommaso all screamed in warning at the screen. Then the Scotsman dropped with a small hole in his chest, wincing as he collapsed forward. A trumpet sounded.

"Fuck." Carl kicked the chair like he was going to walk off, but obviously couldn't look away. Phuong wisely fell back to Alex and dropped, the Belarussian hopefully healing him as Seamus and the Swede made a few more multi-colored fireworks.

But Becky relaxed. With Alex and Seamus alive she figured it was only a matter of time. A few more minutes of magical exchange, and Phuong was up again, circling as he loosed his own blasts.

Alex protected him until they circled the impressive eastern caster, probably running him out of mana and attention. He went down in the end to a well placed Soulstrike, not even flinching as he dropped and vanished. The watching trio cheered.

"Alright, let's see what poor bastards got Mason. Though I guess it’s probly over," Carl said, doing the post-apocalypse version of channel flipping. Rebecca let out a long held breath as Phuong and the others shimmered into view, congratulating and checking on each other before they all sat and started ordering drinks.

"Good job, boys, we were watchin'." Rebecca shook Garet's shoulders and punched Seamus in the arm. She exchanged a smile with Phuong and the others before wandering back towards Carl. "Give us a sec and we'll get Mason-vision up next."

"Uh. Guys?" Tommaso was watching his own table screen, and he looked up at Rebecca a bit like he did before someone tried to kill him. Rebecca felt her heart skip a beat as Carl stepped back from the screen in silence.

"What is it?" she said, honestly having no idea what would spook both men like that. She got closer and focused, really trying to make sure she was understanding what she saw.

When she finally did she felt her heart pounding all the way to her face.

Mason was fighting Jeong. And some other man. He was unarmed and falling back, seeming to do his best to keep both fighters from really getting hold of him. And he was covered in his own blood.