The Gamer Chapter 1207 – No Holds Barred 6 – Light and Darkness (Patreon)

Skin like copper and chocolate, a most peculiar combination, radiated and absorbed the light of the early day sun in equal measure. In the glow of the celestial body whose worship she embodied, Sol stood, arms crossed. Casual in underlying design, yet way too ornate to be properly qualified as such, her clothes covered her hourglass curves. The top was a short-sleeved vest, pronouncing her cleavage, rimming her dark skin with gold decorations on blue fabric. Her pants were a pair of equally radiant hotpants. The tips of her glowing, platinum blonde hair waved and melded like an upside-down flame. Behind her back, a large ring hovered. Its centre was filled with radiant energy, the outer rim beset with protrusions that symbolized the rays of her aspect.

Awe-inspiring as the goddess of the sun should be, and was to almost everyone around, to John she served as a beacon of his desensitization. With the ascent of him and his harem and their own increasingly god-like accomplishments, Sol’s radiance was just not that impressive. Rather than a divine figure of continent-shaping influence, John just saw a woman whose golden eyes burned with open aggression.

Sol walked off the teleporter pad. Her arms were still crossed and she very clearly used them to further prop up her large breasts. After she stopped in front of the target of her hostility, she finally opened her mouth and said a single word in a harsh tone, “Nathalia.”

The dragon goddess crossed her own arms. The black scales that covered her always left a deep, V-shaped cut-out. As she pushed up her own sizable breasts, the scales retreated a little bit further, almost revealing the nipples. “Sol.”

Two embodiments of humanity’s collective thoughts and worship stared at one another with burning eyes. This was their first meeting since the conclusion of the Five Day War and absolutely nothing had happened to change their mutual hatred. From what John had learned, the dislike went back far beyond the ‘betrayal’ of Nathalia during the events of Pompeii. Since both women were outwardly abrasive and arrogant, it was predictable that they wouldn’t get along.

“Know that I only aid you because Romulus is a wonderful, forgiving man,” Sol hissed.

Nathalia clacked her teeth in response, like a beast. “Know that I only accept your aid because John is wise and plentiful.”

“If he were as wise as my Rom, he would not find himself in this situation.”

“You mistake the power of your partner for the capacity to manoeuvre mentally. No matter. My mate will be superior in both aspects in time.”

Sol leaned forwards. “Is that a threat?”

Nathalia mimicked the gesture. “It’s a fact,” she growled back.

‘I should probably intervene,’ John thought to himself. It wasn’t fear that kept him standing less than two metres away, quietly watching. Rather, the most prideful part of him wanted to see how far this would go. Two incredibly hot, powerful women were bust-to-bust, forehead-to-forehead, going back and forth on which one of their partners was superior. The only way he could have enjoyed this more would have been if they both aggressively complimented him with his dick between their lips.

“To carve an empire out of nothing is the greatest of achievements.”

“No, the true achievement is to build a realm that can stand up to those that have existed for millennia.”

‘It’s just really nice to get so many compliments out of Nathalia,’ the Gamer realized. A poke in the ribs forced him out of the focused appreciation of the words. He glanced at the queen who had taken Sol with her through the teleporter. Lydia’s eyes reflected her obvious demand. Knowing that he really should intervene, he stepped forwards and put an arm around his dragon goddess. Decisively, he pulled her backwards, separating the two forces of nature. “As much as I love Nathalia speaking well about me, we should move this along.”

Sol blew air out of her nose; Nathalia growled, then took hold of him and pulled him down into her bosom. Boobs were one of the few things in life where getting a faceful of them after an aggressive shove or pull was an entirely positive event. “Find me after you have concluded business with her,” Nathalia demanded. After one more glare at the sun goddess, the dragoness walked away.

John had to wonder if the only reason why Nathalia had come along to this greeting had been to ‘establish dominance’. Actually, he didn’t have to wonder at all. That was exactly what Nathalia would do.

Swiftly, he turned his attention towards Sol. Beyond the two of them, Lydia and Reika were present. The goddess of emperorship was a two-headed eagle. Her beaks had that typical curve, their colour a mildly stained white, her feathers a brownish grey and incomplete black. She was too large now to find perch on Lydia’s shoulder, and even on the outstretched arm, her claws looked like she barely had room to hold onto.


She was not back to her full power, but a mighty ally regardless. She cawed once and somehow John just knew that was in relation to his Observe. Beings of this power and age were bound to notice. It wasn’t an issue with Reika. For Sol, he asked first.

“Would you mind if I Observed you? Just to check your combat capabilities,” he requested in a friendly tone.

“You may,” Sol responded. A bit of abrasiveness stuck around, but far less than she used towards Nathalia and less than during their last meeting at Lydia’s birthday.


That she was still in the negative was a bit irksome, but not ultimately surprising. Even though they were working together for this and even though the Gamer and the Apex currently had a friendly relationship, it was understood that he was the individual to shake up the thousands of years of clear dominance.

“Thank you.” John kept his tone diplomatic and dismissed the window. “You have been informed regarding the cause, target, and allies of this expedition, yes?”

“Yes,” Sol answered and pressed her lips together. Whether she minded that this whole organization took place so John could save a woman he fancied or that this took place in another world, he had no idea. A definitive point of contention was that she and the Horned Rat would find themselves on the same side. That god was the only one she hated more than Nathalia.

“Alright then, you’ll have to forgive this question: what motivates you to tag along even though you hate my side?”

“Rom asked me to, that’s good enough for me,” Sol responded.

“And what does he want out of this?” John asked and immediately raised his hands in defence to the goddess’ glare. “This is between us, without the political posturing. The Apex,” John used the title deliberately there to appease the goddess, “has a far-reaching influence, and now that he’s becoming more active on the world stage again, he doubtlessly wants an influence here. I will owe him a favour for this. I’d like to know what it could be.”

His choice of words worked. Sol was refreshingly simple, not the schemer her fellow celestial goddess Luna was. With the hint of a smile, albeit an arrogant one, she responded, “Rom has sent me expressively out of the kindness of his heart, Gamer. You will owe us no favours for this.”

John struggled not to wrinkle his forehead. ‘I’ll remember those words,’ he said inwardly, while his lips formed a different response. “Truly generous of you. That he’d send one of his beloveds to a different world.”

“It’s no risk to us.” Sol shrugged. “Even if I die there, our tether is too strong to be suppressed. I’ll be reformed by his side. That being said,” her golden eyes fixed on his, “understand that I will not take orders from you nor anyone else. You have my aid, not my loyalty.”

“…I will keep it in mind.” The Gamer nodded and turned around, just in time to watch Beatrice hastily approach. Everyone else was busy hosting who had already arrived or taking care of some business that had piled up. The passive maid was approaching in service of the former set of tasks. “This is Beatrice, she will show you to your quarters. There will be a strategy meeting tonight. Tomorrow morning, we invade the Iron Domain.”

The solar goddess nodded. “I will help as pledged.”

_______________________________________________________________________

John was socializing with a trio of Abyss Auction executives. Of the many factions he had tangled with over the past one and a half years, this was the last from which he expected military aid. None of the four people that had been sent could state it outright, because they hadn’t been given this information outspokenly, but the Gamer could guess that Dramar wanted to protect his investment. If John died, the Token lost its backing. A problem that could be circumvented when the currency was accepted as the global standard and was self-sufficient.

What the Abyss Auction got in return for their aid remained to be negotiated. With them at least John could be sure that an economical arrangement was desired, which were the nicest favours to owe.

There was a lot more chatter around. The base floor of the Palace, filled with guest rooms and salons, had never been livelier. People from all around the globe were exchanging pleasantries, enjoying meals prepared by Aclysia and a cadre of students from her maid school. As an odd side effect of this gathering, this school was getting more renowned by the moment. John had overheard remarks regarding the grace of the servants and the quality of the food several times.

Aclysia brimmed with happiness, being a source of prestige for John’s gathering, which reflected in her service, which brought the guest’s greater comfort. A relaxing evening before a battle was typically of great aid to an army’s chances. All that needed to be assured was that booze consumption stayed relatively low.

While John spoke to the three Abyss Auction executives, he always had an eye on his girlfriend. The fourth person sent by Dramar was none other than Nariko. Rave’s mother was, much like Maximillian, in the level range where she could help but only against the mass of middle to lower rank Ironborn. He wasn’t quite certain what he thought of her presence. Between protecting her because of who she was and letting her fulfil her duty to who she worked for, he was torn. Ultimately, he decided not to get involved. If he was willing to let his best friend participate, despite the danger, then he could let Nariko come along as well. His moral duty was to let everyone know what they signed up for and why they did it. The open letter had taken care of both.

His Ambassador Double and Socialite Puppet were elsewhere in the Palace, letting him keep tabs on the developments everywhere. There were over a hundred Abyssals already present and there were still four hours left before the strategy meeting. Of all those present, the weakest was level 97 and the average hovered around 200, gods and the harem excluded. By John’s projection, there were around 40 more Dukes (roughly level 125), 8 Archdukes (level 250), the two Monarchs besides Jevaine (level 450), as well as the two Iron Maidens (presumably about level 500). With each new arrival, the favour tilted ever so slightly towards the allied troops John brought into the Iron Domain. Every bit of insurance they could get that their fights against Arkeidos himself would not be made more difficult by reinforcements was valuable.

While John was making sure the guests were entertained, Momo and Beatrice were welcoming whoever else arrived. Some they knew were coming, others showed up unannounced. Such as the group that caused Momo to reach out to him. ‘John… uhm…’

‘What’s up?’ he asked, eager to find out what made his sassy support hesitant.

‘Nightingale is here.’

“I’m sorry,” John interrupted one of the executives mid-sentence, “I just got an important message; we’ll have to continue this later.”

The understanding response passed by him almost as fast as John passed by the people. Mouths opening, a few people stepped up to his path, only to step back once they noticed his urgency. Most seemed entirely unmoved by the missed opportunity, few disgruntled. A clear separation between who was there for their personal beliefs and who to curry favours.

John rushed through the open ballroom door and then out of the closest of the four gates that connected the cross-shaped corridor to the outside. Late March days were long, compared to the swift darkness of the Iron Domain. Grass softened the impact of his swift steps. By the edge of the starfort’s upper layer, he saw Scarlett smoking with someone. Everyone was using this gathering of influential and powerful people to make connections within and beyond Fusion.

Curving around the corner, John arrived where the guests were received. The group stood out immediately. Wearing rough leather clothes, the stereotypical Viking look of Olaf Strongliver and his companions was contrasted sharply by the black-winged, pale harpy between them.

It was the first time John got to look at her in daylight. Her long, mildly dishevelled hair revealed just a hint of purple underneath the black, harmonizing with her eyes, the colour of deep lavender. Dark as the night, the feathers of her wings and the skin of her lower, digitigrade legs remained. The leotard was just as dark, causing him to wonder if it was part of her magic. Noble and beautiful, she let her eyes wander around the area. They were narrowed, the brightness clearly displeasing her. Pale as the full moon, her face and the exposed areas of her human torso and thighs reflected the light.

It only took a second after he had spotted her for her to notice him in return. It took two more seconds for Olaf to look his way. “THERE HE IS!” the large Norseman thundered and charged.

Of all the greetings so far, a full-on tackle was the most amusing one. The hulk of a blond man collided with John and carried him four metres along before tossing him into the air. Particle Skin was active and proved that, just like last time, Fenrir’s guard had not a hint of malevolence in his action. With that established, John used Magus Step to land before Olaf could catch him.

“Here I am,” the Gamer agreed, slapping the taller man on the exposed shoulder, before using Skitterstep to teleport to his other side. A baffled laughter followed. Olaf turned around in search, to find John only when the invisibility wore off.

“You politicians always have tricks,” Olaf laughed and walked after John, back to the group.

“Indeed, we do,” the Gamer responded and stopped in front of Nightingale.

“Hey, scary lady, show us to our rooms,” Olaf said. His words were that of a demand, his tone that of a request, and the description used did the rest.

“How about you sleep over there?” Momo suggested and pointed at the ground. Grass turned into brambles, her reality-bending fairy aura playing off her sass. “You look like you would love the challenge of sleeping in pain. Definitely beats sharing a roof with this ‘scary lady’, right?”

“You know,” John chimed in, “you taking issue with that title and you then threatening to make them sleep on brambles doesn’t really mesh.”

Momo rolled her eyes. “Neither do we and I’m still putting up with you for some reason.”

“Offer: If you would follow me, the pretty maid,” Beatrice chimed in.

“Oy!”

Olaf laughed and followed Beatrice. That was the opportunity John needed to make an inviting gesture towards Nightingale. The young goddess of the night gladly took him up on it. After only two steps together, she started talking. “My deepest apologies for the delay.”

Her voice was that of a true songstress, yet different from Undine’s. Where the slime girl’s voice was crystal clear, what was formed by her black lips had more of a natural harmony to it. One was like vibrating glass, the other like the song of the bird the harpy owed her name to. Both were wonderful sounds, yet distinctly different.

It was so beautiful, John almost forgot to listen to her words over their sound. “I was placed in isolation to further my training. Your message only reached me when Olaf carried the open letter to me.”

Furrowing his brows, John said, “We tried every avenue of direct communication.”

“And all were withheld from me.” Nightingale’s gorgeous tone and features were compromised by a shadow that spread out from her black feathers and hair. Distantly, chains rattled with each step they took. “Let it be said that I will not return to Scandinavia anytime soon. Let it rest at that.” A sweep of her wing, and the daylight cascaded on them undisturbed again.

“Well, we should discuss that in more detail… among other things.” John rubbed his forehead, uncertain how he should breach this next topic.

“Is there naught about Delicia’s cure you can share with me?” Nightingale inquired.

“The open letter says all there is to it,” he assured her. He stopped in front of one of the elevators that allowed access to the second floor, even from the outside. “I’d like to hear more about what your plans are after this, where you will go, what you want to do, but before we discuss any of that, I need to make an… improper proposal.”

Nightingale tilted her head slightly, her dark eyes reflecting intrigue and a hint of disappointment. “Did you decide you wish to have my body in exchange for your help after all?”

“Sort of,” John responded with a dry chuckle. “To put it bluntly, I have an ability that lets me take a fragment of a goddess’ power and make it my own under the condition that I make her – you – orgasm.” Scratching the back of his head, John sighed. Regardless of how awkward he knew the situation to be, he maintained eye contact. “I’ve debated whether I even make this proposal to you. Given that Delicia’s life is in question, I normally wouldn’t, but the situation has developed. At the very least, I wanted to put it on the table. I’ve never used this ability before, it may be enough if I make you climax with my tongue. I don’t know you and it’s improper either way. Whether you want to take this route to give me a power boost that probably won’t matter is your call.”

Nightingale quietly spread her wings. Her individual feathers seemed to disappear, all of them blending into a black sheet, so completely lightless it appeared flat. One blink, and that blankness melded completely with the background. A conjured segment of the blackest night enveloped them. Only the grass directly beneath their feet was visible to John. After just a metre it faded away into the darkness.

“I would like to ask a few questions,” the night harpy said. “Are you aware of my virginity?”

“That was information you let me see through Observe.”

“It was indeed. An enticing matter, presented to a man renowned for his insatiable sexual appetite.” Nightingale’s tone was as harmonious as usual. “I was prepared to sacrifice a purity I had guarded to have an opportunity to save my friend. You know what my answer will be here today.”

“Yes, and I don’t want the reason to be that-“

She raised one of her wings, like John would have a finger. Softly, she interrupted him, “Shhh, I believe your justification and I wish to share it. Are you interested in me, John Newman? Beyond my body?”

“I’d love to know more about you. What little I know of you so far definitely has me intrigued and-“

Again, she raised her wing. This time it travelled high enough to hide her black lips. “Your answers are long when I ask simple questions,” she remarked with a chuckle. “Are you nervous, perhaps?”

“I’m just an overthinker,” he responded with a long sigh. “I’ve never been good at being brief. What I want to be clear about is that I do desire you, your body doubtlessly and your personality from what I have seen. I wanted to expand on this in the aftermath. Invite you to a few dinners. You were receptive when I flirted previously, so I would like to think that would have worked out.” He made a sour face. “I prefer the honest conquest, Nightingale. I only deserve the partners I have because I work hard to make them happy. Leveraging my position or a situation, it feels… dirty.”

The harpy took half a step forward. With the diminished distance, the individual feathers of her black wing suddenly were visible again. Still, she blocked the view of her lower face with it. “You say many truths. Your answer is never brief. You do have to be honest to deserve what you have. And I…” John felt a gentle caress on his leg. Glancing down, he saw one of her dextrous feet brush up to his knee. The place was unusual, the intent was not. “…I was indeed open to flirtation. For manipulative reasons, initially. For reciprocal reasons, swiftly. You are a figure of great charm and character, John Newman. That plan of yours, would you be willing to execute it no matter what my answer is?”

“Yes,” he answered strongly and briefly.

“I will hold you to this word.” Those words were expectation and threat. She was entrusting him with something she could not get back once she gave it up, and if it was squandered, he would pay for it dearly. A punishment well deserved. “Then let us invert common sense, John Newman. I will give whatever first time you want and I will give it to you willingly.” Pulling her wing down just a little bit, Nightingale revealed her ladylike smile. “My lips, however, are not yours to claim. You will work to earn your kiss, after Delicia is saved. You will show me that these were not platitudes to bed me. Do we have an accord?”

“We have an accord,” John pledged.