The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series) Chapter 263: Elf friend

Mason walked through the further areas of the beautiful Temple of Gaia to be alone, scrolling through his patron choices. He had a few ideas in mind but still wasn’t committed enough to actually pull the trigger.

The list of buildings were endless, though the vast majority were unavailable, reserved for larger and larger settlents with way more people and size than Nassau. Mason wasn’t exactly sure how the hell anyone was supposed to make such a thing, since the number of people around seed incredibly low.

It made him wonder if actually the main groups of people were in other places—if Mason and all the others in the Great Forest were actually in a kind of low density area, a town at the edge of civilization, the Wild West of the new world. If so, was that good or bad? He supposed it made no difference, it just was.

It also made him even more impatient to be able to travel faster. Of course he didn’t actually want to deal with a huge number of other people, but if the ga got tougher they might need sothing like an army…

Unless the system was really just pitting all the humans against each other in the end. Maybe everything was just a dressed up race for power, a pleasant fiction that resulted in every man for himself. The ‘biological imperatives’ the ga had promised weren’t exactly clear. Could you win together? Or could you only win if everyone else lost?

Mason tried not to think about that. Because he could tell himself that if the rules were too terrible he just wouldn’t play. That he’d lay down and die for so kind of moral code. But if roboGod put a gun to Haley’s head. To Blake’s head. What wouldn’t Mason do?

“If you’re listening,” he muttered, “I wouldn’t try it. I don’t know much, but I know we all pay for the things we do. Even synthetic gods.”

Mason scrolled through his options again and again, more often than not finding sothing new that sounded amazing.

All this ti chasing Wyrdwalking, and he could apparently take so kind of ‘Teleportation Device’. Of course it ca with warnings about settlent size and usage limitations and ‘potential undesirable astral attention’, whatever exactly that ant.

The short version was that Mason could create a permanent ‘Base’ in the settlent, then he or soone else could take a ‘Marker’ outside and warp between the two with a small group and a bit of material. Sounded like it only worked once every few days, but even so, it only took Mason a mont to see how incredible that was.

He could Wyrdwalk or travel alone at full speed to a dungeon or a fight, then teleport the others to his location. Or any group could go sowhere, then teleport back to Nassau. How exactly the communication would work, if at all, he didn’t know. But they could set it out just on timing if needed.

More defenses were tempting. The list had automated nature-y defenders, possibly like the elental that nearly killed Seamus in the great tree. He could buy an underground bunker, or a kind of inner fortress, or an escape tunnel. The list went on.

But he also found sothing called a “Training Facility” that he couldn’t stop looking at. It looked like a giant warehouse mixed with a gym, that promised ‘opportunity to test powers, weapons, and tactics, against automated opponents’. It even said it had ‘experience opportunities’, particularly for people who were low level.

No matter what else he wanted, this sounded too insanely important to ignore. Not only would it give the low level players an opportunity for experience without mortal risk—and the ability to test powers. It actually gave the players sothing to do, and feel good about doing, every single day.

The cost of the Training Facility and the Teleportation Device almost wiped out his patron points entirely, but he took both and grinned. The nagerie and the wolves would have to wait. The system blared with a one hour warning but at this point people knew the deal and wouldn’t worry.

With that taken care of, Mason decided it was ti to find the elf.

He was about to ask around but instead just stopped and closed his eyes, focusing on his ever increasing scent and…sothing else. Like a new sense from his classes, probably druid, that let him understand Streak and feel the life of the forest.

Even now he could feel the life beneath the soil. He could sense the trees, hear them breathing, whispering. The longer he stilled, the further his senses seed to stretch. It was intoxicating, giving him the feeling of being more than a man, all knowing, all seeing…

“Sorry to disturb you, druid, but do you know yet when we might depart for my people?”

Mason opened his eyes and cleared his throat. The elf was about five feet in front of him, so, apparently his god-like senses could use so…refinent.

“Good timing,” he said. “I’m ready now.”

The old elf smiled but tugged at the frills on her waist. “It will be…just you, druid?” When Mason nodded the old woman looked increasingly awkward. “I…have no doubt you’re a powerful warrior, but…the danger’s we might face…”

“What dangers, exactly?” Mason asked. “Because with an exception or two, things in the forest seem relatively safe.”

The oracle shook her head. “That is likely your people’s influence. The world is a dangerous place. Especially for elves.”

When Mason quirked a brow in confusion, the old woman practically scoffed. Then she softened.

“I forget the mories of the younger races. My kin are…sought after. For our knowledge, for our magic, for our…” she went slightly pink, “for our heritage. Our beauty and our long lives.”

When Mason just listened and said nothing Dariya seed to slowly deflate, like her strength was just a mask that wouldn’t last much longer.

“There are few of us left, druid. Almost none with our own tribes, with our freedom. Most are trapped, scattered, or dead and gone.”

“I’m sorry,” Mason said. “Do you have sowhere safe you can go?”

She hesitated, then shrugged.

“No where is safe for us. That’s why we always move with the seasons, going wherever it is harshest. The cold and heat do not bother my kind. And the winter will co soon. So we go north, all the way to the Endless Winter of the Mother Tree. We can hide in the mists when required.”

Mason winced. “By ‘Mother Tree’, I assu you an the Great Tree in the northern forest? I’ve…put an end to that. The Maker magic, I an. It’s broken, the tree cleansed.”

Dariya’s eyes widened, her face for a mont lit by wonder, but it faded quickly.

“You know of the Makers?”

“No.” Mason started to realize this old elf might be a treasure trove of knowledge about the ga, or at least its internal mythology. He tried not to think about what she’d said about being used and enslaved. “I just saw a vision,” he explained, “and I’ve seen a hall they built. But I don’t really know anything.”

The elf smiled, then sat on the nearby bench. “Then…to answer your question, I do not know where we will go. Perhaps the Mother Tree can shelter us regardless.”

“Do you…” Mason sat down beside her, “…happen to get along with gnolls?”

The elf snorted like he must be joking, but when she realized it was an honest question she t his eyes. “They hunt and consu us. For their rituals, and their gods.”

“I see.” Mason sat in silence a mont, trying not to feel like he was exploiting her by asking them to stay in the settlent. Plus he didn’t know how many people she had, or how they’d interpret such an invitation.

In the end it just seed too obvious, too ideal. Surely the protection of the players would benefit the elves as much as their knowledge and magic might benefit him? He just spit it out.

“If you want…”

“Would it be possible…” Dariya spoke almost simultaneously, and Mason t her eyes and laughed as the tension eased.

“You can stay here with us, if you like,” Mason said with a shrug. “We’ve accepted a Gaia blessing, if that’s a problem. But, you know, we don’t eat elves, so that’s a plus. Our warriors aren’t that plentiful, but they’re powerful, and we have good walls and a pack of wolves now. Anyway, you could just stay for a season, and we’d see how that goes.”

He realized he was rambling and glanced at the elf, surprised to see tears in the old woman’s eyes. She took Mason’s hand and put it to her lips, whispering words it seed even the system didn’t translate.

Apex Predator flashed, and for a mont Mason almost pulled away with suspicion until he read the text.

[An elf oracle is attempting to enchant you with a temporary title. Do you wish to resist?]

He sensed no malice from the woman, but even so he considered stopping it. She looked confused until he accepted the prompt.

[Temporary title gained: Elf friend. Any race of elf who ets you will recognize the enchantnt, and be more trusting as a result.]

“Thank you," she said. “I will take your invitation to my people. Your settlent is beautiful, and my kind has long seen Gaia as one of our most important gods. It was she who led to you, perhaps, and not Luna. Yes, I see her hand in this.”

Mason was vaguely uncomfortable discussing religion at the best of tis, nevermind the kind invented as a fiction by a much more terrifying synthetic God.

“I’m glad,” he said, standing. As he looked down on the old woman on the bench, it also occurred to him he was about to try and travel very quickly beside a rather frail looking person. “If you, uh, told where your people were, I could go alone. Maybe I could take a ssage for you?”

Dariya smiled and stood, looking suddenly far less weak and frail than she did a mont before.

“We will ‘Wyrdwalk’, as you call it, druid. I’m sorry for the deception, but I was never lost. I am a creature of the Fey. The ancient paths are as familiar to as the lines of my aging skin. I was only waiting there, hoping. For a miracle, I think. For you.”