The Gamer Chapter 1212 – No Holds Barred 8 – The Assembly (Patreon)

“Well, I suppose our time is up,” John said. He wanted to sigh theatrically to signal that he was bothered by this. Much as he wished to spend more time with her, he did also want to save Claire already. It was a wonderful feeling, to be able to love so many different gorgeous and interesting women at the same time and to have that love be requited. It was a horrible feeling to be separated from one of them.

John, thanks to Undine’s lesson crossed with his high Wisdom, had the ability to blend out negative emotions without ignoring the facts associated with them. That let him stay stress-free even during the current time. To stay coherent and healthy, with the level of private and public responsibility on his shoulders, such a mindset was necessary. The Gamer was blessed that he could maintain it in all matters most of the time.

Even he wasn’t immune to the slivers of dread that wormed their way into his heart. In this case, they manifested in his tone becoming completely neutral.

Nightingale devoured one last piece of dried meat. As she chewed, she straightened up again, and lowered the claw to the ground. It was strange to see her eat. No amount of studied grace could have compensated for the amount of stretching and bending she needed to do to get whatever she held in her talons to her mouth. It did also serve to show off some of her primal side and just how bendable she was, so John regarded it as an overall pleasant sight.

“It was pleasant to spend these hours with you,” she assured him and then looked around the room. “All of you.”

“Same here.” Rave grinned. She and Beatrice were currently present. Over the past hour, the number of haremettes in the room had been waxing and waning from one to five. Constant exchanges assured everyone had some time to recuperate from the demands of socializing with strangers and to get to know Nightingale. In many cases, that first meeting became intimate within seconds. The harpy way of life did absolutely synergize with John’s.

Consequently, everyone in the Sex Dungeon was naked and Rave’s cunt and asshole had the marks of recent attention. Just ten minutes ago, she had been getting pounded from behind, while Nightingale ate her out and Beatrice ate her out in return. They had initiated the night goddess in practically all exclusively oral sexual practices possible between one man and up to six women.

“Final shower and then we go downstairs,” John decided and led the way. Unsurprisingly, that last shower ended up with him fucking Beatrice against the wall, while Rave ate out the watching harpy. That was, by harem standards, a quick affair though and the actual last engagement.

On the way out, John tapped a single button and the Sex Dungeon reverted back to default. The food that Aclysia had originally fetched and was now left behind, the room’s functions would take care of by themselves. The pillows that had been spawned in, many of them filthy from the various acts committed on and around them, were deleted from existence.

John made his suit appear, Beatrice grew her clothes out, Nightingale threaded shadows into her leotard, and Rave continued to strut along nakedly. Enthusiastically, she took large strides, leading the group as they made their way towards the central staircase. Her tail accentuated the enticing sway of her perfect ass.

Just barely, John managed to get his reason to take control, before they entered the open chamber in the middle of the floor. Once they were there, anyone standing below could have caught her in her nudeness just by looking up. “Ehem,” he cleared his throat and stopped.

“Hm?” Rave hummed and turned around. “Something wrong, tiger?”

That she was genuinely confused only made it more difficult to insist on what he had to say. “You should probably wear something.”

The exhibitionistic Lightbearer looked down at herself and then laughed. “Right.” A swift flash of light filled the corridor, ebbing away immediately, and leaving the Gamer’s first girl standing in her bodysuit, Illuminare. It covered her from neck to toe. On her torso and most of her arms, the material was a bright pink that harmonized with the colour of her hair and the lustre in her blue eyes. For her legs and left arm, up to the elbow, a layer of black and metal pieces reinforced her limbs. They appeared like thigh-high boots and a long glove, respectively. Her right arm only had the hand covered with black and that segment was not any thicker than the rest of the piece. A pattern of geometric lines ran criss-cross over the arm in the prismatic colours of Fusionals, a visible extension of the Lorylim scars underneath. “Feels basically the same whether I’m wearing it or not, so I forget sometimes,” she said and hit her head, mimicking a ditzy gesture she had learned from anime. At the same time, the black segments of her arms thinned to regular levels and turned pink. She was adjusting the suit to make it appear a little less like battle wear.

John was tempted to step forwards and test her claim, despite already knowing it was true, by rubbing her until orgasm. He contented himself by pulling her against his chest and then grabbing her ass with all the force appropriate for that round piece of living art. Holding his girlfriend, he turned his gaze to Nightingale. “If we go down there together, the people will think we did even more than we actually did,” he warned her. “We could smuggle you out another way, if you want to keep rumours low until I properly court you.”

Nightingale stepped close, as she smiled. “No act worth hiding was committed. I sucked your cock as a token of thanks for your help. You aim to be my suitor upon completion of this task. Does any of that sound shameful?”

“Sounds perfectly civilized as far as I am concerned,” he answered with a grin.

“Statement: in terms of perverted engagements, this may actually be the most civilized you ever were, Master. Sticking to oral acts and to vow to court the lady would be acceptable, albeit not necessarily proper, in most societies.”

“We can just stick to the customs of my civilization which, de-facto, are what I decide they are anyway,” John retorted, as he put his other arm around Nightingale. The pale, dark-haired harpy goddess of the night to his left and the mildly tanned, pink-haired, feline Ligthbearer to his right, he stepped through the double-door and into the hall holding the spiralling staircase. It was broad enough for the three of them to walk side by side.

The staircase brought them right down to the middle of the crossroads between the guest rooms, the ball room, and the salons. As predicted, they immediately drew the attention of the dozen people holding their conversations between locations. None approached or even interrupted their conversations. “People just aren’t surprised anymore by your hijinks, tiger,” Rave teased.

“Is it wrong that I’m kind of disappointed by that?” John thought out loud, squeezing both butts. Obviously, Rave’s was better. Nightingale’s was not quite as round, her hips not as wide. Still, a fantastic place to keep his hand though. Like having a piece of the upper layer of heaven in one hand and a piece of the middle layer in the other.

“Many a great person liked to dazzle,” Nightingale remarked. “It is not wrong nor right, it plainly is.”

John hummed, not sure if he’d let himself get off that easily. When it came to his pride, he certainly preferred to regard it as a negatively-leaning trait. Thinking of it positively would have made it all too easy to let himself slip.

The descent was deceptively short. With all of the indoor pools and other structures within the second floor of the Palace, one would have logically assumed the floor to be at least four metres thick. Instead, it was ‘only’ about two. That wasn’t for a lack of space, as the current two floors of the Palace could have been expanded upwards without adding anything to its height. Much of the structure was simply solid rock, with no rooms carved out.

The thinness of the floor was explained by what the Building actually was. What John called the Palace was a combination of the highly editable Housing of the Guild Hall and the Perk unlocked Central Hall. The latter was marked by its capability to compress space in a much larger capacity than his bus or other enchantments of the same type. Thus, the already absurd dimensions available to his household were expanded even further.

‘Maybe I should take advantage of the height more often, make this place more mystical,’ John thought. ‘Momo would doubtlessly like a library that expands fifteen metres up and downwards on a second floor… not sure if that much might be stretching the capabilities though.’ John made it to the ballroom, where he was already waiting for himself.

“Alright, I’ll leave you in my capable hands,” Jack joked and stepped away from the trio/quartet he was talking to. That being the formation of Maximillian, his succubus girlfriend Irielz and the gemini elemental Laralia in her two bodies.

“Very funny,” the gravity mage responded drily, but turned to the real John. His eyes darted over to the harpy by his side. With a respectful bow, he greeted her, “Lady Nightingale, it’s an honour to meet you again.” When he stood straight, he added, casually, “Hi, Jane.”

“Ya know, I’m the First Lady of a guild that could eat yours for dinner,” Rave threatened jokingly.

“I doubt that and I see no ring anyway.”

“He’s right, tiger, there’s no ring.” Rave directed her playful ire towards him. “Where’s my ring?”

“At the place we all go to eventually: the future.”

Rolling her eyes, Rave peeled slowly out of his embrace. “I’ll check on the rest of the party. Take some photos if ya two start making out.”

John shook his head, while his snickering girlfriend tip-toed her way to a random group of people. The centre of the party shifted with her. By her charm, her looks, and her upbeat personality, everyone was enticed to some degree. That she was such a bright character, compared to her handsome yet plain boyfriend, certainly aided in that. He couldn’t help following her movements himself. A smile naturally formed on his face. She winked over her shoulder and his heart skipped a beat.

“Do you ever look at me like that?” he heard Irielz whisper. The black-haired succubus tried her best to lean up to Maximillian’s ear, a process that required her to get on her toes and hold onto his arms for support. She was about Eliana’s height, albeit much larger endowed in the chest area.

“Only when you aren’t looking,” Maximillian responded.

“”He does indeed,”” the two bodies of the gemini elemental spoke in unison. The gravity mage was treated to a quick series of kisses.

John let it pass without a comment. Considering that this may be the last night Maximillian saw them, he deserved all of the love he could get. Irielz was too weak to even beat an Ironborn Lord and Laralia was still not under contract. How exactly they were dealing with the knowledge that there was a respectable likelihood that he would die tomorrow, the Gamer was not privy to. On the surface the answer appeared to be: almost dismissively. It was that typical Abyssal callousness at display.

Returning his attention to his buddy, Maximillian said, “Not surprised to see you two together.”

“Nobody is, apparently.” John shrugged. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“It certainly says something about you that you attracted yet another goddess.” There was something swinging underneath that compliment that John could not quite read. Was it envy? Should he use Observe to find out?

Their conversation moved on, while he was still pondering. Nightingale said, “I may only be using him to attain a place to stay for the next few weeks.”

“What happened with the Sons of Odin?” Maximillian asked, eyebrow raised.

“The pantheon withheld this meeting from me,” Nightingale responded, her eyes narrowing dangerously at something not there. “I took my leave, informed courtesy of Olaf’s actions. Neither I nor the pantheon were in a good mood upon my departure. I do not care to mend the resulting rift. Let it run deep and cold, like a lightless trench.”

That was an anger that was very well justified and that John would have to deal with down the line. If she became one of his haremettes, Nightingale would certainly also become a patron goddess of Fusion. Her having a seething hatred for the leadership of the Sons of Odin would complicate diplomacy with an otherwise, if not friendly, then at least tolerable world power.

Maximillian was clearly thinking something similar and decided to stay clear of that particular topic until a later date. “Quite the alliance you cobbled together here,” he pivoted.

“Not going to lie, it’s more than I estimated,” John responded, looking around. With the strategy meeting drawing ever closer, more and more of the visitors were concentrating in and around the ballroom. Disregarding the harem and the over a dozen maids steadily making sure the catering provided everything demanded, there were around a hundred and fifty people now in the room. There had been no new arrivals for the past hour. Latest to arrive had been Moira, her father, and three of their most elite knights. All of them attended the gathering in full battle regalia. Funnily enough, William appeared to be having a good time chatting with Olaf. In demeanour, the two could not have been more different, one being a straight-laced paladin, the other a Viking downing a literal keg of wine that had been produced from somewhere.

It was far from the only cross-over between global influences. Elu, the elderly Native American from the Hidden Tradition, was chatting with an Abyss Auction representative and Nia. Elsewhere, Alice was currently messing with Remia, the elf from the Lake Alliance that had fought Rave during the Hudson Brawl. She was accompanied by Theron, who was just as lazy as ever, trying his best to hide his attempts at nodding off behind a raised book. Sol was standing next to a warrior from the Sahara, whose light armour emanated an icy aura. One of the independent people that had come here, John would have loved to speak to him more. Everyone who attended for no other reason than the adventure or doing the right thing was the kind of foolish that he could get behind.

“There’s a lot here to-“ John continued in his answer, only to have the words get stuck in his throat. Something compelled him to discontinue his utterance. Something that affected the entire room. The universal pause in conversation was quickly broken as the effect was overcome by most within the room in the span of three seconds.

“Mostly worthy, worthy indeed,” a familiar deep and squeaky voice bellowed.

In the middle of the room, the white of the marble floor began to rise as a stream of white that tinged yellow. Skulls shaped from the material, identifying it as aged bone. Dogs, goats, rats and ravens, individually and in twisted union, had their bare heads peel out of the still-growing central mass. Many disconnected entirely, rattling as they fell to the ground, others stayed attached. Regardless of what it was, the teeth and beaks parted, letting loose a torrent of darkness.

The quiet around the room was filled with the uncertain whispers of those not clear what was going on and the oft disdaining stare of those that did. A sensation crawled through the room, akin to wet, cold fingers dragging over the spine. John felt it in all three of his bodies. Even as it grew more intense, even as barking, croaking and cawing echoed discordantly from the darkness, John stood calm.

‘Should I…? Yeah, I suppose I should, since he’s putting this whole thing on for my benefit,’ John thought and turned to Nightingale. “I’ll go greet the last guest,” he said, loud enough for everyone around to hear, without being so loud that it sounded like he wanted to draw attention. She nodded, perhaps understanding what was going on.

Hands in his pockets, John wandered towards the creepy display. The pillar of yellowed bones was by now barely visible. Nimbly, it reared, then jaggedly cracked itself apart. Shards turned into limbs, legs, tail, arms, into spine and skull. Muscles spawned strand for strand, layering themselves upon a naked ribcage, growing fur once thick enough. Only the head of the beast was unaffected. Horns pushed from the chimeric shape. Two red dots flickered alive in the blackness.

The darkness dispersed into frayed raven feathers and black fur, tumbling down to the ground around the Horned Rat. Five metres tall, despite being hunched over, the skull of the god threatened to tear off one of the chandeliers as he reared his malformed body towards the Gamer. Bones still were visible between badly placed muscle fibres. He grabbed his right arm and, with a loud crack, broke something under the surface while lodging it into the proper position for a humanoid.

“Richard, the fuck are you doing?” John asked, abrasively. “I asked for your help, not a horror show. Use the door.”

The Horned Rat bowed down all the way, the skull on its own almost as tall as John’s entire body. Stinking hot breath filled John’s nostrils. “You’re an ally, not a superior. We struck a deal and I will behave however I please.”

“Then leave,” the Gamer challenged. “I don’t need someone who terrorizes my allies with displays of unnecessary awfulness.” Another bone snapped into place just as he said that. “Our deal was one of mutual benefit. You’ll get nothing out of it if your aid does more harm than good.”

A cloud of dust and flies blew out of the skull’s nostrils. For several seconds, the Horned Rat just stared at the smaller, weaker Gamer before him. The only question was how far he wanted to push this play.

The Horned Rat would have never made an entrance like this without good reason. Those that knew him better understood as much, but very few could claim to have any knowledge of the god beyond his existence. Through his feats and guided rumours, the god of impending calamity had gained a reputation that entered the mythical. A reputation that he was now leveraging to John’s benefit.

“Fine… fine,” the god growled, as if defeated, and began to shrink. As he did, his body condensed into the regular, not as inhuman shape. “I will subordinate myself to you in this case… John Newman.”

‘Yeah, sure you are,’ John thought sarcastically, even as he nodded, as if victorious. “Thirty more minutes until the strategy meeting. Pass the time without making another scene.”

Richard stepped aside, giggling so quietly only John could hear it. At the same time, everyone who barely or not at all knew the Horned Rat took a communal breath of relief. Their respect for John had just risen considerably. Which was exactly what the god had wanted from the start. It was to the Gamer’s benefit and he still loathed it.

‘One day, dick, I’ll get back at you,’ John thought.