The Gamer Chapter 1470 – 27 Days of Preparation 23 – Downtime (Patreon)

John did not know how his life had come to include preening two different sets of wings, but he did not mind at all. Granted, he was enjoying one set of wings much more than the other, but both had their perks.

The first set belonged to Nightingale. A purple so deep it came across as black, unless inspected more closely, her wings were worthy of the night goddess. Goddess or not, a harpy was a harpy, and as one of the civilized kinds of birdwomen, she had evolved with the potential helping hand of mates in mind. The layer of dried skin that stuck to a quill upon its finalization into a finished feather did not urgently require removal. Like a back massage or other acts of intimacy between people, it was simply the kind of nice gesture that made life a little more worth living.

Nightingale repaid the gentle pinching and rubbing of her quills with pleased trills and low-hummed crooning. The older woman snuggled up to him, kissed his neck, and spoke with her lavender eyes the promises of repayment whenever, wherever, and however he wanted it.

John was reminded of how lucky he was with the large set of women he had gathered for himself. There were some real psychos out there, the kind of woman that thought they were worth the world and took so many efforts for granted that they crushed a man’s soul under the weight of their ungratefulness. That he was this eager to do things for them was in no small part because they made it easy to do things for them. A kiss on the cheek was quite the reward.

Something that he truly realized because the owner of the second pair of wings kept pecking at his wrist!

“Stop that!” John snapped and pinched her sharp beak shut between two of his fingers. Velka tried to pull her head back, as cats typically did when one had a finger on their nose. No matter how much the large Magryph tried, she was not getting away. To succeed, the large pet would have needed to get up and she loathed few things more than that.

“Don’t bully her!” Eliana shouted, stomping across the living room.

“If anything, she is bullying me.” Despite his words, John relented, releasing the birdcat’s black-white beak. Immediately, the Magryph put on her most miserable warble. Eliana took immediate pity, providing the red-eyed pet a lap pillow and ear scratches. Eyelids twitched then Velka shot John the most smug gaze a smart pet could muster. “Stop pampering this ungrateful money eater!”

“Maybe if I had something else to fucking pamper, I wouldn’t?!” Eliana was borderline outraged. “One year?! Really? Who needs one year to get fucking married, you asshole?”

“Most people?” the Gamer told her.

“Since when are you most people, mister I-set-fucking-ovaries-aquiver-with-a-snap-of-my-fucking-fingers-but-I-won‘t-fucking-breed-my-submissive-and-breedable-breeding-slut?”

John had no good answer for that, so he just let out a long sigh and checked Velka’s feathers for any that might need the preening. Unlike Nightingale, Velka could take care of the vast majority of her feathers with her own beak. There were some at the back of her wings and head where she couldn’t reach in any targeted manner.

John pinched those feathers and gave them a careful tug. A couple of times, he accidentally made some old feathers come loose by working next to them. He put them off to the side. Magryph feathers were technically worth a whole lot. Not worth as much as goddess feathers, but Delicia would like having them regardless.

Eventually, the Gamer returned to the couch and the feathery embrace of Nightingale. As if to make up for her fellow half-bird, the harpy fully pulled him deep into the hug and cooed wordlessly in his ear.

John closed his eyes and let his head fall against her shoulder. Blessed was he for the triple thread of memories he was acquiring. The depth of combat, the pleasure of a romantic little entanglement with Siena, and this deep hug by the goddess of the night.

“Always fascinating how much she rebels against you.” Nightingale’s comments made John open his eyes just a crack. On the floor, black talons were fencing, attacking and protecting his leg.

A half growl was enough to get Velka to stop. For all her teasing of her owner, the Magryph did know how far she could push him without getting punished for it. She was better behaved than some of the haremettes in that regard. Although, if the ‘punishment’ for bad behaviour would have been something equivalently pleasurable as sex, the birdcat probably would have pushed it further more frequently. If she had been a sexy woman, he would have let her too.

“Good girl,” Eliana said and happily scratched Velka under the chin.

“Don’t reward her just because she stopped for three seconds,” John pleaded and glided down further on the couch. Soon he had his head on Nightingale’s lap. One of her wings was orderly folded, the other laid on him like a blanket. Magic extended feathers into a blanket as pleasantly warm as a summer night.

John enjoyed the comfortable state of being. He had slept too recently to doze off again, so he just was relaxed as he could be, while glaring at the rebellious bird.

Chuckling, Nightingale half-sung her words, “This bodes poorly for your relationship with your daughters.”

“Really?” John raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think my daughters will be much like Velka…”

“Many will be, prodding and probing for your attention. Which you will give to them, of course.”

“How could I not?” John wondered. Just the thought of a little Aclysia coming up to him and asking to be picked up warmed his heart. Similarly, he wasn’t sure yet how he would deal with them getting old enough to show interest in boys. It was difficult to imagine what he would feel at that time. ‘Like, I can get the basic concept, but the actual chemical reactions aren’t quite enabled yet, I guess?’

“It will be attractive to rebel against a father so powerful,” Nightingale continued.

“How could they fucking not?” Eliana agreed.

John pinched the bridge of his nose and tried not to imagine the cascade of headaches he would get in 13 to 20 years. “How are you so sure?”

“You just have that concerned dad aura around your fucking face. You’d tell everyone what you think is best and then I’d have the urge to do the opposite just to show you you ain’t that shit-eating wise.”

“The forceful personality necessary for a patriarch lends itself to being a stern father.” Nightingale scratched him under the chin with the bow of her wing. “You would raise daughters worthy of no men lesser than yourself. A demand impossible to meet. Impossible expectations ferment rebellion.”

John had never quite thought of it like that. He had spent quite a few hours contemplating how his sons would attempt to measure up to him, but not as much time wondering how his daughters would feel about having a father at the peak of the hierarchy. “Well, we’ll see what happens when it happens,” he sighed, putting an end to the conversation.

Velka rolled on her back and went, “Mrrrreow?”

The call and the exposed belly instantly attracted Nia. The blonde stepped out of the nearest door frame and descended on the fur. How she could give the birdcat belly rubs without getting scratched was a mystery. Probably had something to do with the ear massage Eliana was still giving her. The pariah and the pretty little psycho could always get along when it came to pampering Velka. Not that they ever had serious fights, usually it was just Eliana shouting at the blank for various reasons.

“Did you think about joining in the whole goddess training, by the way?” John asked.

“Nope,” Eliana responded.

“Is that an answer or a no to you having thought about it.”

“Both? Either? Doesn’t fucking matter, I’m not touching my fucking Sanctum, if it even exists.” Eliana backed away from a mildly protesting chimera. A few steps, and she instead joined John under the blanket of Nightingale’s darkness.

‘I get what Lee said about me attracting edginess,’ the Gamer thought and cuddled the failed goddess.

“Who would even want to set foot in a realm of genocide?” Eliana mumbled.

A fair point. Although John saw the utility in her getting a better grip on her powers, to have her face a realm literally made of the dying gasps of anyone ever systematically slaughtered was practically guaranteed to have adverse effects on her psyche. Better to leave that particular door closed.

Best to squeeze Eliana’s delightfully small frame between his arms. The frown on her face turned upside down quickly, happy little squeaks leaving her throat. John similarly laughed, repeatedly constricting and relaxing his embrace to keep coaxing little sounds from her. Velka eventually had enough of the scratches and that left Nia quietly pouting next to the couch. A state of affairs that needed mending as soon as possible.

So, the four of them relocated to the bed. John found himself with Nightingale to the left, Nia to the right, and Eliana on top of them. For a considerable amount of time, they were just attached in a group hug with one another. John kept turning his head, to engage in deep kisses with one to all three of them. When the hunger for that was satisfied, they just lay there.

“Blowfish,” Nia suddenly said.

Eliana burst out laughing. A loud, manic laughter, from the bottom of her soul, scratching together what traces of insanity would never quite leave her into an expression of amusement so intense it bounced off the walls. “Wha-hahaha-t the FUCK are you talking about, creepy ass bitch?!”

“I was thinking about blowfish,” Nia elaborated. “They are cute.”

“What animal is not cute?” Nightingale asked.

Nia turned her eyes to the ceiling. The unmoving state of her expression made it difficult to ascertain if she was thinking about it or ignoring the question. “I am not fond of parasites,” she responded and returned her ice blue eyes to their tight-knit circle of faces. John could feel the exhales of all three women on his collarbones.

“Even you draw the line somewhere, pale slut?”

“Eliana…” John warned the pretty little psycho.

Immediately, her entire mood shifted. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why, but her being so fucking tall and blonde and beautiful always makes me jealous, please don’t hate me,” she rambled in a tiny voice.

Nia pressed a kiss on Eliana’s cheek and nuzzled her lithe frame as close to the woman on top of John as she could. “I don’t mind, loud, little one.”

“…Was that fucking sass?”

“…No.”

“…Was that fucking sarcasm?!”

“…No.” Nia tilted her head quizzically. “Loud and little are both accurate for you.”

“Bleached blonde cunt,” Eliana cussed.

John just sighed, letting those two continue their odd relationship. While Eliana and Nia ran a currency exchange from curses to weird responses, he turned to Nightingale. “Any progress in developing your powers?”

“Lavender and chains, Patriarch,” Nightingale responded. “Steady improvements. I expect there to be more in the future. After all, you have eclipsed me.”

The Gamer couldn’t help but smirk ever so slightly at the reminder. Nightingale was level 613 at this time, a minor power increase from when she had joined Fusion. Important was that she was now of a lower level than him. A boost to his ego, to out-level a major, if young, goddess and an opportunity. After all, he could pound levels into her as much as he had with the non-combatants or anyone else.

Level differences in his harem were a thing of the past. It had taken an incredible amount of Perks to get there, but he had managed it. Any future differences were highly unlikely to be or remain north of twenty.

“I suppose I may be able to level you more efficiently than the trickling faith of Fusion,” John hummed.

“Which is total fucking bullshit, by the way,” Eliana stated.

“It is unorthodox,” Nightingale agreed. “A total change of topic: I suggest we design house emblems.”

“House emblems?” John asked.

“Symbols for each of us, your haremettes, and your own household, Patriarch,” Nightingale explained. “The conversation about daughters had me thinking. It would be practical for the purposes of your house if there was a simple way to identify the mother the children belong to.”

“That feels quite… imperial,” John said with a sour expression. “What sort of signal would it send?”

“I don’t care,” Nightingale admitted with a shrug. “It makes sense. Just like it makes sense that we consider what our last names should be once the marriages begin. It could be too confusing if we were all Newman.”

“I’m not keeping my old name,” Eliana growled.

“You do not have to,” Nightingale assured. “They are useful to know who the mother is. It could and will become important. If not in the next generation, then in one that follows. Genealogy is difficult.”

She did have a point. Three generations in, his family situation would be an unparalleled mess. To give it a bit of order could be important for a variety of reasons, from inheritance to incest. “I’ll consider it,” he sighed. ‘Just another thing that would make me feel more like a monarch. The houses of my progeny….’

“Still resisting the whole fucking kingship idea?” Eliana asked.

“Yes… where do you stand on that?” John asked. He broadly knew what the opinion of each of his haremettes was on the question of them becoming royalty or not. Like with most other topics, some fell firmly on one side, some on the other. Granted, in this particular instance, the side that was for him maintaining his presidential aspirations had always been the smaller one. Overwhelmingly, haremettes were part of the pro-monarchy or the undecided camp.

Although he generally knew where everyone stood, it was as little a resolved case for them as it was for him. Opinions changed, particularly in the centre. Problem was that general opinion was generally nudging more towards pro-monarchy rather than pro-republic. This went as much for the harem as it did for the public broadly.

The cause of this was simple: John kept succeeding. The problem with monarchy typically wasn’t that it concentrated power in one person, it was that the one person was typically not up for the task. There were many examples throughout history where a stagnant republic was taken over by a powerful and capable person that proceeded to clean up the mess. Often enough that person was corrupted when they achieved the office. Inevitably, someone who succeeded them was corrupt and/or woefully incapable.

John knew his story was attractive for a ruler. Came from nothing, blessed with incredible luck and power, ascended the ranks of the Abyss, bettering the lives of those that would follow and crushing enemies that stood in his way. He had demonstrated the ability to lead and mortality was a distant concept for him. Safe for falling to the blade, John was guaranteed to survive the ages.

By every historical precedent, he was the ideal king.

He just didn’t want it.

Eliana was still contemplating his question. “Don’t really know. I’m with Hailey on this whole shitting mess. Doesn’t fucking matter what title the head cock has, only that they can be trusted. So do whatever the fuck you want?”

John could work with that view.