Chapter 693 – The Troubles and the Cuddles (Patreon)

The great thing about Abyssal clean ups after catastrophes  was that rescue missions were a non-factor. Everyone could evacuate with  the ease of raising their hands. Unless a Fateweaver was suppressing the process or they were so tremendously unlucky that they had both  their arms incapacitated in some fashion.

None such cases had been reported to John so far, meaning that they were looking at a simple  case of rubble pollution and damage reports. The former, people could  solve remarkably quickly with a few shovels, carts and cars. 185 metric  tons of rubble sounded like a gargantuan amount, until it was subjected  to 200 people at the peak of (and sometimes slightly beyond that) human  physical capability. Add magic to the mix, the ruins of a house could be  disassembled in a ludicrously short time.

The latter, John had to  run around the city and decide what to do with. The burned-out  skyscraper was the most pressing task at hand. Although the true extent  of the damage could be vastly lower or higher than what first readings  indicated, initial reports stated that the fundament of the whole thing  had been weakened to a dangerous degree.

It was quite clear that,  had it not been for Chemilia, the Lake Alliance would have strategically  blown up structural weak points so the whole thing would topple over.  There was a limit to how much a skyscraper could slant while it  collapsed, but the spread of destruction would have been remarkable  regardless.

Failure or not, John now had to face the decision of  what to do with the building. Three possible roads were open to him. He  could tear it down in a more controlled fashion, he could command  reinforcements to be made in an attempt to save the skyscraper or he  could wait for more detailed information to come in.

As always,  each of these options had any number of risks and costs associated with  them. Demolishing the skyscraper was quick and painless, if done  correctly. Cleaning the entire thing and refurnishing the insides could  be more costly than just putting up a new one. Raw money questions  aside, John took a liking to the idea of changing the skyline inside the  Hudson Barrier up a bit with more Abyssal structures. As impressive as  these towers of concrete, metal and glass were, they didn’t have  hovering balconies (or whatever else one could want).

Due to the  sheer amount of living space they had open to claim – not to mention the  number of other projects they were already chasing – John hadn’t looked  into doing much in the realm of architecture yet. All he had done on  that front was to make sure certain areas of the Hudson Area,  particularly Manhattan and North Brooklyn, weren’t transferred from  Fusion ownership to private hands. That way, he had the space whenever  he wanted to get to it.

A few decades ago, there would also have  been the concern of losing whatever government documents may have  survived the fire. As it was, John was sure that they had back-ups of  basically all important data in digital form. They would need to take  some time to set things up again, but nothing of absolute value, like  criminal records or the register of citizens, should have been harmed  meaningfully.

What spoke for keeping the building around was the  symbolic value. An attachment to the real USA, whose political system  John so happily copied things from. He also happened to think that his  home nation, for the most part, had nice architecture. On that front, he  was still salty that the Hudson Barrier didn’t actually stretch to the  Empire State Building.

‘Well, at least that means it couldn’t have  gotten blown up in this attack,’ John convinced himself of the  silver-lining, as he finalized his decision. ‘I definitely can’t do  nothing. The weakened structure will eventually collapse under its own  weight, and I am not having that disaster on my hands. Question is if I  want to keep it around or not, really… looking at it…’

John gave  the partly blackened tower of glass a final analysis. Its once polished,  glass surface now looked like the spotted carapace of a silver ladybug.  In the real world, this building was the One World Trade Centre. That  it was that particular building that now threatened to fall down on NYC  was an irony that did not evade the Gamer.

Regardless, it was just  a giant tower of glass. Impressive due to the size, but not all that  great to look at. John decided that it was best removed and replaced  with something more magical in the future. Outfitting the entire  structure with magical connections had been a pain in the first place,  so John could save himself some money if he put something in its place  that had more sensibility.

‘Now, how do I tear down I giant  skyscraper quickly?’ was the next question John had to ask himself. Once  the thing was reduced to rubble, he could leave it to the clean-up crew  again. As this was a rather large building, John didn’t really want it  to just be imploded, but every other technique was likely too slow to  take care of things before it collapsed on its own. ‘Guess I don’t have a  choice… this’ll cost some mana.’

First, he had to evacuate  Manhattan. Easily done, everyone around was hooked up to the chain of  command anyway. Then he had Gnome erect earthen walls to prevent the  rubble from flying anywhere once the actual demolition started. Through  Scarlett, John got himself the blueprints of the building and analysed  the support structure. Once he was certain he got everything, he moved  Gnome and Sylph into position and continuously funneled mana into them.

It  all went down pleasingly smoothly. Gnome knocked destroyed all pillars,  damaged and functioning, at the same time. The skyscraper collapsed in  on itself, one story after the other getting crushed by gravity and the  weight of the stories above. Glass and concrete bounced off the walls in  a steady shrapnel fire. John could only hear this, as a thick cloud of  dust was pressed into the confines of the wall. Although the inside of  an Illusion Barrier lacked natural air currents, meaning the cloud would  just rise straight up anyway, John didn’t want the thing to pollute the  entire district on its way back down. As such, having an air spirit  solved that problem in large part.

The preparation took something close to an hour, the execution less than six minutes.

“I  think I could get used to the demolition business.” John nodded to  himself. The whole procedure wasn’t too different from his usual  scheming. A long, methodical build-up with a swift, explosive  conclusion. “What do you think, Eliza?”

After she had calmed down,  John had convinced the blood mage to come out into the city with him.  It had been a slow progress, partly because he himself didn’t know what  would happen exactly. First Beatrice had met them at the teleporter,  then they had gone over to Rave, talked to Chemilia and finally some  random people. At no point did Eliza seem to have or let John know about  any murderous impulses.

As it stood, Eliza was in control of  herself, for as long as she didn’t engage in battle. That was easily  worked with. Also, potentially, this meant the blood mage could actually  fight again in the future. If it was just a question of keeping Jack  around her, that was a possibility he was willing to entertain.  Certainly, it was an upgrade from a rampaging Thana. Not an immediate  solution, but steps in the right direction.

Once a few days had  passed and they had all calmed down and observed this a little, John  planned to suggest they did some training to see if she couldn’t learn  to tame her savage outbursts. As long as all participants were people  with high regenerative capabilities, that would be a worthwhile  endeavour to help Eliza along. Since she had actually succeeded in  suppressing the urge to feast on Lakamun’s corpse, there was the  potential for greater control.

“I think you’re a giant fucking  show-off,” Eliza retorted. It had been a good amount of time since she  had left the room, so she was back to her usual self. Well, John guessed  that there was still a lot on her mind, but he kept her mind from  uselessly spiralling around it into a depression. “Fuck you for being so  fucking tall!” she suddenly screamed and stomped on his foot.

“Why  is that bothering you this time?” John wanted to know, more amused than  anything else. A simple stomp failed to hurt him in any meaningful  capacity, HP or otherwise.

“Your perverted hand is on my shoulder,  why the fuck is it on my shoulder?!” she complained, involving him in  an aggressive snuggle. “Because you’re way too fucking tall!” A furious  stare of envy went past John and towards Aclysia, who was standing on  the opposite side. True enough, John had his right hand on the  weaponized maid’s butt. The problem with Eliza was that he needed to  bend towards her to probably touch her ass.

Not a whole lot. The  difference between their height wasn’t that extreme. John was a head  taller than Eliza, so her waist and everything above was easily reached.  Just her butt was, thanks to the recent extra two centimetres, finally  too distant to reach without a bit of stretching. Even that would get  uncomfortable if kept up for too long, so John had to surrender and go  for shoulder or waist instead.

“Why don’t you tall fuckers get  together and breed a space elevator or something!” the blood mage  continued. “Use your fucking babies to shoot yourself right into the  stratosphere. At least I won’t have to deal with your bullshit once you  retarded ruinations of my mood are up theeeerrrr-“

Eliza was  interrupted by John diving down and quickly lifting her on his shoulder.  “Now you’re up there.” He smirked up to her from between her thighs.  “So how is that?”

“Goooooood,” she said, her mood so suddenly  swinging into appeased that John had the urge to bend her over something  as punishment for being so bratty in the first place. He didn’t go  there, instead just slapping her juicy thigh with the hand formerly on  her shoulder. His aim was perfect, hitting that naked area between her  boots and leather thong. New boots and clothes. Because Eliza had a  tendency to rip her clothes when she fought (or in a number of other  scenarios), John had a large stock of both. “Motherfucker,” she gasped  lustfully, “do you want me slick up your neck, you degenerate playboy?  Because you’re on the best way to make me ooze my filthy juices all over  you.”

“…Okay, Eliza, new rule,” John decided, “you don’t get to  refer to your wetness as ‘filthy’. Because I don’t like the mental  image.”

“Really?” the blood mage bowed forwards, her head and  falling hair taking up most of his vision. Only a little bit of the sky,  quickly fading from purple to black, was visible around her. “Is it as  bad as daddy?”

“No, it’s like two tiers under that.” John would  have made supporting gestures, but he was busy comparing the squishiness  of Eliza’s thigh to Aclysia’s ass. By a slight margin, he deemed the  ass to win. There was just more jiggle there. “I just like eating you  out and when you say ‘oozing filthy juices’ I can’t help but imagine you  have like a cold down there and that Nurglite plague I wish upon  nobody. Crotchrot is evil.”

“Alright? Will try not to piss you off with that shit, I guess.” The blood mage was nicely docile on that front.

Gnome  and Sylph soon returned to their position and John turned to Aclysia.  The weaponized maid let him know where else there were immediate  decisions that had to be taken. Not too many more, but enough to keep  him occupied for a little while.

Until a little past midnight,  John moved around the city. He told people what buildings to tear down,  which to reinforce and, more often than not, did the brunt of the work  required on those fronts while he was already there. He did some dirty  work, talked to some of the people in a normal fashion, held a few  speeches in official capacity and ultimately did his best to leave a  positive impression.

Once there were only tasks he could have  accelerated but didn’t require his specific attention, the Gamer called  it a night and went back home. The first thing he did back in the Palace  was take yet another, way more thorough shower. One of the usual,  Newman Lifestyle™ variety. Eliza was fucked against the wall, Rave rode  him in the bathtub, Aclysia and Beatrice rubbed him down with soaped up  sponges and their hands, Undine sucked his dick whenever there was an  opening and all other kinds of erotic scenes unfolded. There wasn’t a  second John’s cock wasn’t getting worked in some fashion and the girls  he couldn’t pay attention to were busy with each other.

Once they  were all meticulously clean and smelled nicely from the shampoos and  cologne, they relocated their get-together into the living room. None of  them put their clothes back on. Only Lydia kept wearing sexy lingerie,  rather than being completely naked. Contrary to expectations, the orgy  didn’t escalate further from there. While things definitely remained  sexual, with all the nude women around, what followed was more of a  giant mountain of cuddles.

With immediate desires taken care of,  everyone had a bigger urge to indulge in closeness than yet more  perversions. John found himself at the centre of an ever-shifting  exchange of hugs and compliments on the couch. All of the uncertainties  of the day, all the anxiousness and existential dread, broke into a  life-confirming hour of simple honesty.

It warmed his heart, as  his naked girlfriend laid against him. Her smooth skin was more pleasant  to brush his palm over than silk. “We really are a bunch of crazies,  aren’t we?” she asked with a smile, kissing his neck. “To take this day  and end it by hugging each other with smiles and no tears.”

Lydia  came along and sat down on John’s lap, facing towards him. Her brilliant  red lips closed in on his, and wordlessly they engaged in a prolonged  kiss, sealing the Gamer’s answer before he could even think of it. It  was full of passion, the queen writhing on top of him, her moderate  breasts pressed against his chest and her slick pussy slickening his  recently dried cock.

“I observe it to be a sign of beauty,” the  auburn-haired royal stated, her heated tone shimmering through her  well-chosen words. She said something the Gamer found wonderful in that  moment. “That John Newman’s harem can come out loving life even when  faced with a terrible present. We are stronger than the uncertainty, are  we not?”

John took the queen by the waist and gently, slowly,  made her slide over his dick. The gasp she let out was raw sensuality.  “We are the best,” the Gamer decided, it felt like an inadequate answer.  There was just nothing that could measure up to what she had said.

And so another busy day came to an end.