The Gamer Chapter 1367 – Chatter, Metal, Fae (Patreon)

“Man, if you smiled at him like that when he’s awake, you’d probably get what you wanted more often,” Metra stated. Her voice was underlined by the noises of rubber on the smooth floor of the bus’ insides. One stance after the other, the First of Wrath was going through the motions of her favourite tai-chi routine.

“Shut uuuup.” Momo’s whining request came alongside a nervous shifting of her soft thighs under John’s head. Gently, she caressed his cheek. “He’s so adorable when he’s sleeping,” the fairy maid mumbled, softly like a good mother figure. “Such a sexy, wonderful man. I just want to… have him drag me into a corner and tell me nothing bad will ever happen to me. My brave protector.”

“See, that’s exactly what you should tell him.” Metra slowly raised both arms to the ceiling. “Next thing you know, he’ll have a cuddle corner built just for you and him. That’s what our John does.”

“First off, yes, he would and I don’t actually have time to sit all day in a corner,” Momo’s tone shifted towards her usual, slightly annoyed tone, “someone has to do all the paperwork for him. I happen to be one of the few girls around that are reliable.”

“I’m very reliable,” Metra pushed back.

“In combat. When was the last time you did anything useful that didn’t involve violence?”

“You’re moving the goalpost,” Metra responded calmly. “The question was if I was reliable and I’m very reliable when it comes to my skill set. Also, may I remind you that the reason your pencil pushing has any authority at all is me breaking every bit of resistance through slaughter and imprisonment?”

“…Don’t appreciate you putting it that way… but, yes, thank you.”

“I wasn’t asking for thanks. I appreciate it though.” Metra slowly turned sideways, her back muscles tensing oh so seductively. “Drilling the army is about as peaceful as I can get.”

“Can’t imagine that’ll ever help polish up your image, Breaker of Armies.” Momo’s index finger rolled the tip of John’s nose. “You’re still pretty unpopular with the people.”

“So is war,” Metra answered dismissively.

“Uhm… yeah… anyway, secondly, if I told him all of that, I’d collapse in on myself like a black hole. Urgh, just thinking about how smug he’d get is making me annoyed.”

“Annoyed, sure,” Metra said drily. “Anything else that makes you ‘annoyed’?”

“Your stupid face,” Momo snapped back immediately. The First of Wrath shrugged. “Alright, what is going on with you? Do I need to check for body snatchers?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I mean, not a single ‘fuck’ or other curse, not even a single growl, no anger, you’re so… mellow.” Momo sounded genuinely worried about that fact. “Is the tai chi relaxing your chakras or something?”

Metra let out a methodical breath, then inhaled deeply, before answering, “Not entirely removed from the truth. It is a lot of work to be this angry all the time. Occasionally, I have to remind myself that I’m in control of my rage, not the other way around.”

“Oh? You seem to enjoy being pissed all the time.”

“I do, much like I enjoy playing the sex slave or the attack dog.” Metra turned her shoulders left to right. “Those are lived out urges, not followed demands of my body. Discipline makes rage a weapon. Overindulgence in what feels good dulls the mind and the decision making.”

“True,” Momo supported with a strong nod. “I was wondering why you keep visiting the gym despite being… you know, not muscular and all that.”

“So many people think of exercise as a means to a physical end.” Relaxing all her muscles, Metra let her arms dangle loosely in front of herself. “I’ve seen kings and philosophers exercise, warriors and peasants. Even when what they did would not have increased their strength at all, they continued because the exhaustion that they pushed their bodies to established that the mind stood above the matter. It’s not about how much you can lift, it’s about how much you can endure to be put upon you.”

“Hmmm, I like this wise Metra.”

“I picked up a thing or two during my long life.” The wolf girl cackled. “Who am I schooling though, you’re way smarter than me. You probably know more about my people than I do.”

“You still think of the Akkadians as your people?”

“I doubt I’ll ever have any others.” Metra raised her hands in a slow, circular motion. “The more times move on, the stranger civilizations get to me. I can’t dismiss their successes but by Mother Cha- fuck.” The First of Wrath growled and stomped her foot.

“Just a slip up,” Momo assured calmly. “I’m not making excuses for you. Be better.”

“Like ash in my mouth, the title of that traitorous bitch.” Metra tried to exhale her frustration away. “What I was saying was: By Sargon, everyone is so soft these days. I want to throw them to the wolves, grind them through the gauntlet, until something usable forms the iron fist that can protect what remains. Back in my day, people that couldn’t protect what they had didn’t deserve it.”

“And that’s better?” Momo asked doubtfully. “To leave what one deserves up to the question of whether a random warlord can drum up more warriors to steal from you than you can drum up warriors in defense?”

“I don’t know,” Metra responded, her voice stabilizing back into the calm of her exercise.

The conversation stopped there for a moment. “Why do you say ‘By Sargon’?” Momo asked. “I know you’ve said ‘By Fusion’ in the past? Anything changed?”

“Everything changed when I saw Tiamat reveal herself as a different kind of abomination,” Metra responded. “It’s difficult to put something new on the pedestal of chaos. Fusion is a state and states are inherently run and operated by whimsy little bureaucrats.”

“Some offense taken,” Momo responded drily.

“You’ll survive, fairy.” Metra giggled. “Putting Sargon on that pedestal is… a bit easier. It’s been so long since he left this world. On one hand, he was the warrior I always admired. He was my king. On the other, he was a man and I loved him as such. My creator, at least in contribution. I don’t have to explain to you how that complicates relationships.”

“You really don’t.” Momo let out a long sigh and scratched John under the chin. “I mean, every time I think about this, it reminds me that we are not like regular people. John is my creator. He jump started my existence with a spark of his magic, nourished me until I could separate from the contract. This perhaps could be described as him being my father, but… I don’t feel that kind of bond at all. I wasn’t raised by him, I never felt like I should depend on him as my ward. Not in that sense anyway. His life experiences became my life experiences, then we diverged. Feels more like he’s… an old friend that I always knew.”

“Interesting,” Metra commented.

“Is it different for you?” Momo wondered.

“My life experiences were not truly that of Sargon. My initial knowledge was made from aspects of Enki, Tiamat, and the other gods of the pantheon. The connection you describe, I shared with them. My very being is founded on being a shard of Mother Chaos’ emotions.” Metra stopped and jumped over the back of the couch. “I’m her wrath. Well, was. Still weird to have that part exchanged for something else.” She brushed her own tail.

“Whatever you are or were, I like you a lot,” Momo said.

“Awww, aren’t you being fucking cute?” The First of Wrath put an arm around Momo. “Want to make out?”

“I’ve had my lewd fill for the moment… I mean… maybe one kiss.” Leaning over, the two of them filled the room with the soft smacking of their lips. Momo had been weak when it came to kisses, ever since she had first agreed to having her Libido raised.

“Giiiirls, girls,” the whining of Sylph filled the room while the green-haired blabbermouth hovered into the room. In front of her, she carried a plate with a single pastry on top. It was a dark chocolate piece of art, with pieces of strawberry and thin strips of chocolate elegantly arranged into a flower, sitting atop the moist, fluffy body of sweet dough. “I have a problem! A terrible conundrum.”

“What is it?” Momo asked, after she and Metra had turned towards the new party in the room.

“Behold this delicious looking pastry, doesn’t it look terribly delicious?” The plate hit the table with a respectful clack. “So delicious and moist? Most delicious and smells so wonderfully of dark chocolate, so delicious and bitter and sweet?”

“You are using the word delicious so much it’s starting to sound weird,” Metra stated.

“Is this another one of Siena’s?” Momo asked, bowing forward as much as she could without shifting John’s head around. “She’s gotten really good at decorating.”

“Yes and such is my dilemma,” Sylph sighed long and terribly, as if she was considering the trolley problem. “It is soooo beautiful, how can I eat it?”

“It’s made to be eaten.”

“Oohh, you’re so correct, Mat!” Sylph smacked her hand against her forehead. “Alrighty, nom nom I go!” And nom nom she went, devouring the entire pastry in less than thirty seconds. It was honestly awe inspiring to see someone live out their sweet tooth so intensely. “Thank you for your assistance in this moral difficulty.”

“Are you going to start hallucinating?” Momo asked, worried.

“I haven’t overdosed on sugar in months, I’ll be fine!” Sylph assured and settled down in Metra’s lap. “I sense heavy topics in the air, what did you talk about before my excellency floated about? Metal people stuff?”

“I guess you could say that?” Momo responded in a confused tone. “We went here and there on somewhat heavy topics.”

“Really, she was riddling me with questions,” Metra reported.

“I mean, can’t help having an inquisitive mind. Plus, you have so much more to talk about than me.”

“Mat does have a long, long history,” Sylph supported. “Much longer than I.”

“Meh,” Metra dismissed with a handwave. “If you can be serious Sylph for a bit, I’d wonder what your input on what we were talking about would be.”

There was a moment of contemplative silence. Then, in a voice much deeper and more mature than her usual squeaky babble, she responded, “Serious, hm?”

“What – the – fuck?” was Metra’s immediate reaction, when the airheaded arcvolt elemental turned her head and gave a mature smile. “Momo, we have to go looking for the body snatchers, right now!”

“Don’t be so alarmed, Mat,” Sylph continued to speak in that slow, ladylike manner. She even added a little giggle, behind an elegantly raised hand. “It is just I. Certainly you must be capable of accepting that we are not all what we seem on the surface, yes? You requested a serious Sylph and a serious Sylph is what you get. Do my words carry weight in this form? Do you like the gravity of my voice?”

“Did you mean gravitas?” Momo asked drily.

“Oh, is that the proper word?” Sylph snapped back into her usual chirping.

“Never do that again,” Metra demanded. “That was terrifying. You sounded like a smart person. That gives me existential dread.”

“Awww, silly Mat, silly, silly Mat, I’m always not that stupid. I stopped being a total idiot a long, long time ago.” Sylph grinned from ear to ear. “I just leave the thinking to all of you really smart sorts because I can’t be bothered to think things through. Someone has to keep the good mood around here and I’m happy to be the happy stupid.”

“Don’t do the voice again.”

“But why not my treasu-“

“DON’T DO THE VOICE AGAIN!” Metra shouted and picked Sylph up. “That’s so creepy!”

“I think she sounds hot,” Momo supported the arcvolt elemental.

“Yeah, give it to her!” Sylph cheered.

“And both of you be quiet, Master is sleeping,” Momo insisted. “He had a long day of breaking Delicia in.”

“Right, right.” Metra sat Sylph back down and then finally asked her question. “How do you think of John, as your creator? You spawned into existence when he made a contract, right?”

“Yesn,” Sylph gave a flippant response. “I mean, it’s not human and it’s also different from you two. I’m a spawn of the elemental plane of air. My very existence grows it and it imbues me with some common sense. John did nothing to create me except poke a force beyond his comprehension to create me.”

“Hm, more like me than Momo then,” Metra remarked. “I disagree on the common sense part though.”

“Common sense of an air elemental.” Momo crossed her arms and chuckled. “Can’t take it at face value.”

“I’ll let you know that my mom could beat up your mom and your dad!” Sylph complained.

“My dad?” Pointing at herself, Momo sounded profoundly confused.

“The Horned Dick! He’s totally your dad, giving John your core and all that! I have more common sense than you do, rat-spawn!”

“We sorted that connection out like two years ago!” Momo shot back. “That was before I left, even!”

“Still true though. Very true, very, very true, undeniably true, you are totally made by the Horned Rat so that makes him your dad and my mom could beat both of your parents up with her tongue knotted up! She turned an entire empire to sand, she can do that much!”

“She did what now?” Metra asked.

“Dunno, I barely listened when Oxygon went on about how impressive it was when she nuked something in the Sahara. Something, something, blue and purple sands, something, something, who cares? Was like thirty thousand years ago!”

“I doubt that,” Metra threw in.

Momo rubbed her chin. “Feels like I should look into this. Not like John cares about the past.”

“I take offense to that,” John grumbled, causing all three women to glance down. Their eyes followed him, as he sat up and stretched, yawning in the process. His first act afterwards was to wrap his arms around Momo. Thighs were pushed against her chest, turning her into a bundle that sat too tightly in his hug to escape. “Your protector has already looked into this.”

“Y-you heard that?” Momo squeaked, quiet and high-pitched as a mouse. “But you were sleeping and…”

“I was enjoying the lap pillow, I never slept,” John informed her, watching her turn crimson with embarrassment. Wide-eyed and open mouthed, she stared. “And I saw your smile through my Possession of the pillow.”

“N-noooo…” she miserably muttered, even as her lips twitched into a little smile. “That’s so mean.”

John kissed the corners of her mouth, basking in her embarrassed display. Then he gave her a simple out. “End of the Empire of Blue and Purple Sands,” he cited the title of Tempesta they were talking about. It was one of several that had grabbed John’s attention. “It sounded interesting, so I looked into it. Apparently, there was a country in the middle of the Sahara desert that specialized in arcane magic. Some Latebloomer in charge got a bit too ambitious and ripped through the veil between the elemental and real world. Tempesta did not take kindly to that, and just like that, it was no more.” He squeezed the adorable maid in his arms a little tighter. “Considering how long ago it was, ‘Empire’ may be an overstatement. It couldn’t have contained more than a few thousand, maybe tens of thousand people.”

“How long ago are we talking?” Momo asked, elevating her curious archaeology mind over her flustered haremette present.

“Anything between two thousand and ten thousand years ago. It wasn’t exactly clear and air elementals do not keep good written records,” John told her. “It was a terrible headache way to spend two hours, I’ll tell you that much. No idea about the where either. You’d have to comb the entire Sahara and hope there’s any Illusion Barriers that remain up by some mysterious mechanism or another.” The Gamer took a small pause. “You’re thinking about it right now, aren’t you?”

“Anything to distract me from the present situation!” Momo declared.