Chapter 577: On the hunt

“What the hell’s happening?” Mason growled as soon as he had Phuong alone in the goblin king’s hall. “I just killed the emperor’s spymaster in Haley’s room. Are there more enemy players?”

The hall was so filled with people and goblins now it was hard to move. The other players were all waiting nearby, stealing glances but looking glad not to be in Phuong’s shoes. The old soldier looked surprised about the spymaster.

“I don’t know anything yet. I’m sorry, Patron.” He shrugged. Then he sagged and looked defeated. Crushed. “I thought we were safe here. I let them relax too much. I relaxed too much. I didn’t even set a guard. My own…the woman I…she was nearly killed. But she’s alright.”

Mason wanted to scream we aren’t safe anywhere! But it was the paranoid, orphan-made, unreasonable piece of his brain. The truth was, he’d thought they were safe, too. This wasn’t Phuong’s fault. And he was already taking it hard. He put a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“I’m glad she’s alright. I sent you here to relax. I let the civilians come. I’m in charge. It’s my fault.” The older man looked ready to fight him on that, but Mason turned and went to the goblin king.

The scowling, red-faced creature was surrounded by toadies and guards. He was sending them off in every direction, hissing orders and looking about as angry as Mason felt. When he saw Mason coming he stood from his throne and lowered his head. All his minions did the same.

“Apologies, fellow king and mighty ally,” he said, as if in ritual. Then he took a breath and looked up. “Guards will be punished. We chase demons from the city. Several have been seen.”

“Any humans?” Mason asked. The goblin frowned and shook his head, then looked to his people as if they’d failed him again. His guards whispered with rising tones, but eventually all shook their heads in unison. Not that Mason expected them to see anything. If the players were more ‘rogues’ like the spymaster, they’d be exceptionally good at hiding themselves.

But he had to assume there were others. The question was: how the fuck was he going to find them? And feel safe he had found them fast enough to go finish saving Chinua and his people?

“I’ll search the city,” he said. “And I’ll get the outer tribesmen looking. I need you to lock down the palace. Protect our people with everything you have.”

The goblin king looked pleased to be ‘needed’. And probably to get the easier job.

“Done, ally. Already done. Never fear. The house of Blizzix is strong, very strong. We will…”

Mason didn’t have the patience for goblins today. He turned and went for the outer doors, but was so crowded in it was almost impossible. He ended up just jumping, manipulating his weight with his boots.

People and goblins panicked as he soared above them, but he didn’t really give a shit about that, either. He hit the wall and dropped down, moving out into the huge cavern of the city. His mind was still reeling at the attack.

In the past he’d considered civilians ‘safe’ because players couldn’t hurt them. He’d since learned civilians could still kill each other, and that Jeong and his cronies had embraced the idea.

But working in tandem with demons to get at civilians? It hadn’t even entered his mind. Why would you do that? Civilians were important—more important than Mason had ever admitted. But killing a few didn’t win you the game.

In the end, the great game was about beating your fellow players, and the system events. Civilians were your allies. Your support. The whole point of being a civilian was to be removed from the fighting. So why the hell would they be such easy targets, and why would anyone sane attack them?

Yet again he was reminded why he needed Blake. For all his flaws, it was his brother’s imagination that allowed him to consider every possibility. To see every side of an argument or event, no matter how fucked up.

He walked out into the city-cave and reached out with One with Nature, closing his eyes as he searched for demonic presence. Or really anything living that might trigger as ‘unknown’…

There was so much life it was difficult. He eventually put out a message to the creatures dwelling in the mountain. A clarion call from his druid class that radiated through the stone:

Help me find demons still in the mountain, and I feed you for life.

He stood and waited, smiling as he felt the quick and clever burrowers, the bats, even insects. They skittered and crawled and flew towards the city, their understanding of the planar menace good enough from the invasion to search them out.

Mason’s bones twisted as he Shapeshifted, going further than he ever had towards the ‘true’ form of the wolf. He wanted his senses heightened. He wanted to smell the bastards out like a blood hound. He checked his summon power to see it was only a few minutes until the cooldown was ready to bring back Streak.

Then he bolted up the palace wall with his Claws, back towards the rooms where he’d killed the assassin. He’d check the corpse. Go through all the man’s things and get the scent of everything, find any clues. Then he’d hunt the assassins and their minions down, and make sure his people were safe.

**

Mason was enraged all over again when he found the spymaster’s mangled corpse. It was how close it was. All that blood and violence next to his women—next to his wife’s bed. A reminder of what Jeong had tried to do.

He searched the body and found a small collection of magic items, grinning darkly since none of it had made any difference. Most seemed worthless now, like it was somehow ‘bound’ to the user and wouldn’t work for anyone else.

Three things caught his attention: a cloak, an orb, and some kind of magic tattoo on the man’s chest. The first triggered as he lifted it.

[Item found: Stealth Cloak. Crafted. Tier two. Improves the effectiveness of most stealth powers.]

The second crackled in his palm, tickling his skin like static electricity. It made no ‘system’ indication that it was magic, or any kind of item at all. Though it obviously was. He pocketed it for later, then tried to figure out what the hell the man’s tattoo was.

Without any real identify power, it quickly became a lesson in frustration. But Mason had his own ‘tattoo’ item, and couldn’t fight the feeling this was similar. With a clenched jaw, and a tolerance for the grisly, he eventually used his Claws and skinned the assassin’s chest, taking the tattoo on a canvas of flesh.

He took the items down to his people, leaving them with Carl with instructions to figure out what they were. The man took the flayed tattoo with confusion until he figured out what it was, dry heaving before he got it set on a table.

Mason left without explaining.

He rushed back out of the hall to a chorus of squeaks and bat calls as creatures came from all over the mountain with information (or at least hope of a free meal). Between his shapeshifted form and the animals starting to follow him, the fort had silenced as Mason entered, and was still quiet as he raced back out on the hunt.

A hundred different animals were vying for his attention, but the bats seemed to be saying the same thing: snakes, a cluster of snakes. Hiding in the cavern above.

Mason took a breath and looked up, sniffing. If his enemy thought they’d hide above him, somewhere they thought he couldn’t reach them, they were very wrong. He was about to run for the wall to climb when he remembered how high his boots could take him.

Maybe the demon was watching him even now. But surprise could come in many forms.

With a few breaths and moments to ready himself, he crouched and jumped with all his strength, lowering his weight as he flew straight up. The bats whipped around him, screeching as they flew ahead to show him where. He struck the roof a hundred feet above and latched on, moving fast to follow his guides.

The smell hit him first. The rot of the abyss filled the air, driving him on before his hands hit hollow rock filled with little holes. He smashed straight through, bursting into a narrow passage with a roar.

The hiss of snakes filled the air, and rose hair all over his body. There was something in there, something deadly, and it had sensed his presence, too. A tremor of primal fear lanced down his spine, sending his heart racing and trickling sweat down his face. But he wasn’t that boy who’d nearly died from a venomous bite.

He was a new man and maybe a creature made in suffering and violence. He’d already been poisoned near to death in the great game. He’d been buried and burned alive. Blown up and broken. Chewed on and infused with deadly magic and hacked to the bone.

And he was still alive.

Bits of rock broke and fell all around him as he smashed straight through the cavern wall. Writhing snakes hissed and struck or jerked in panic, a living cluster of beasts just as the bats had told him. He jabbed his hands straight into it, plunging his Claws and Sleeves into the writhing mass without hesitation.

“My family,” he growled, rage overtaking everything. “You come for my family. And you think you can hide?”

He saw the demon beneath the coiling bodies. A feminine face with wide, dark eyes. She opened her mouth and showed snake-like fangs, a dozen hands coming up to grab at Mason’s arms. He held on, and plunged the weight of his boots to the very bottom.

The demon shrieked as his weight pulled her down like a sack of anvils. They both sped to the cavern floor.