The Gamer Chapter 1502 – Divided Gates Meeting 7 – Playing with it (Patreon)

‘I don’t quite understand,’ Claire whispered in his mind, after he had shared the revelation with all parties that he could non-verbally. Everyone else, due to their potential reactions, would have to wait until they were back in the safety of their home. ‘What makes you so sure there’d be war in our territory? Couldn’t we just be secretive about it? I understand that is a moot point, what with Romulus being a potential enemy we do not want strengthened and all – but still.’

‘How inept do you think our enemies are, Claire?’

‘Well, compared to your brilliance…’

‘Ah, I can stop you right there,’ John softly interrupted her. An eager silence awaited his elaboration. ‘Let me put it in simple terms: the leadership of all of these nations, literally all of them, have someone or something among them that is as strong or stronger than Arkeidos.’ The mention of the tyrant created a short flair of disdain, followed by growing understanding. ‘I think my enemies here are malevolent, not incompetent. I am fully convinced that most of them already have a basic idea of what is going on in my territory. Be it through seers, technomancers, or spies, someone will have caught something. If I can learn about a World Turtle getting wounded, they can learn about strange activities in the former Gestalt territories.’

‘So why aren’t they acting right now?’ Claire wondered. ‘Why haven’t they already?’

‘Because none of us know what each other knows. Acting first on a national stage is dangerous. The person that expends resources first is also who is weakened first, and other participants will get involved soon enough. No one ever knows all the designs others have on the world.’ John took a sip of orange juice. The familiar taste helped him relax. ‘And so, even if they have an idea, they won’t act until they either have an opening or it is absolutely necessary. Besides…’ John glared at Mengele, ‘…they, too, get what they want by waiting.’

John had calmed considerably since returning from the conversation with the Horned Rat. Encountering long-term schemes was something he was used to, but something ten thousand years in the making playing out on his territory was still terrifying. At least there was something to truly take his mind off it coming up.

The room’s attention shifted to the platform when Sol and Luna once more took the positions halfway up the stairs. “”Guests of honour now arrive,”” they declared in beautiful unison. “”The gods of the compact, led by the god of war, Krieg.””

The already mana rich air of the festival crackled with manifest energy when seven divine figures manifested atop the stairs. Gods of destruction, creation, and knowledge, all unified behind the figure made of fire and metal at the front. Krieg strode confidently, a fire elemental ascended to godhood.

Despite that scorching origin, his shape was extremely humanoid. A muscle bound man, the image of a Roman gladiator really, clad in a leather harness and skirt. His feet were wrapped in strands that connected to a pair of sandals. His head was the most unusual. A Spartan helmet, its open visor revealing a face of smoke and shadow. Two glowing embers of gold-yellow light cut through the black, flickering as the attention of the god of war shifted between targets.

Those were the gods that made sure Abyssal wars were fought by mortals, not their patrons. It was their pact that made it so a god that had a contract with a guild could only fight on that guild’s native territory. Once that rule was broken, the pact would join on the other side, instantly and completely tipping the scales. Whether guilds the world over wanted to be part of this accord or not did not matter. The strong could, as always in history, apply any rules they cared to enforce.

Krieg was quite the thorough enforcer.

“Well, time for me to make a fool out of myself,” John told his haremettes. They had gathered around the Fusion tables, in anticipation of this scheduled event. Now, that crowd broke up into two segments, one being John, his two alternative bodies, and his elementals. Everyone else, as per Plasia’s demands, had to watch.

Even as John approached, the crowd of enforcer gods was dispersing. Only Krieg himself remained to wait for him. A spark of joy flickered in those burning eyes. Anticipation for the violence about to ensue.

Krieg knew what was about to happen just as much as John knew the god would enjoy the opportunity to slap the Gamer around. He had wanted the same dragoness that now was patron goddess of John’s guild. Even if his animosity wasn’t big enough for the god to do anything volatile, he was definitely going to enjoy this.

“Glad to see you, god of war,” John began with an extended hand.

“President of Fusion,” Krieg returned with the minimum of friendliness required. His burning hand encapsulated John’s, squeezing him in an effort to hurt the Gamer. HP did decrease, Particle Skin deliberately deactivated, but John did not move a single facial muscle. He only retained that polite smile, until the god of war had to let go or appear overbearing. “How may I be of assistance?”

The attention of the room was still on them, so John only raised his voice slightly. “I’ve been asked to fight you by the Mother of Fire – for her entertainment, a duel with passion, she said.” The announcement caused some murmurs. Even in this room, a mission by the Mother of Fire was no small deal. Doubtlessly, some connected the changed appearances of Undine and Sylph to missions by the other elemental rulers at that point. “Would you accept such a duel?”

“What are the conditions?” Krieg asked, for everyone else’s benefit.

“Me and my familiars – only those that are the most direct extensions of my power,” John answered, gesturing at the five women behind him and the crocodile egg on his belt. Subterfuge may have given him a leg up, but this was a duel in front of the entirety of the world leadership. The last thing he wanted was to strengthen his reputation as a swindler. That would have come back to bite him, especially if he ever decided to swindle any of them. Which, considering the cutthroat world of geopolitics, was all but guaranteed.

“Does that include them?” Krieg asked, gesturing at the Ambassador Double and the Creator Puppet. Both of which smiled and tilted their head in perfect unison with the original body.

“”You wouldn’t deny a man his own hands, would you?”” John asked jokingly.

Krieg’s eyes narrowed for an instant, clearly trying to track the connection between John and his doubles. It was quite easy, for a being with the prerequisite skills, to do so between John and his Creator Puppet. For the Ambassador Double, it was impossible. The specifics of the Perk had been that it was, without deliberate pointers, indistinguishable from the Gamer himself.

“Not to doubt your words, but I do not trust that one,” Krieg stated.

John suppressed any show of annoyance he felt at that. The Ambassador Double was far from secret, Krieg could have brought this misgiving up at any point. ‘Which is exactly the test or the insult he wants to deliver,’ the Gamer warned himself. “If you feel uncertain about it, consider it removed,” he said magnanimously. Before Krieg could change his mind, the Ambassador Double returned to its state as the Mandala Sphere and hovered back to the Fusion table.

Honestly, it was good that it wasn’t part of this. Unlike the Swirls model, the Mandala Sphere took weeks or months to replace. Best not to risk damage.

“With that, I gladly accept your challenge!” Krieg announced loudly.

“Wonderful!” Romulus’ voice boomed through the room. The gait of the emperor made the entire room tremble with soft, dramatic energy. “No festivities are complete without a challenge!” One of the more antiquated and predictable opinions of the father of coliseums. “Follow me to the gardens, all those that would like to witness this event.”

Towards the back of the room, a pale green light surged with such intensity, it outcompeted the Mediterranean sun for a solid three seconds. The elongated body of an eastern dragon curved through the air, disappearing as quickly as it had come, and leaving a certain empress standing near the wide opening that led into the green area. “What are you waiting for, slowpokes?” she shouted across the entire room, the smile echoing in her voice. “I was promised violence!”

‘Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh,’ John shouted in his mind.

‘No!’ Momo slapped his mental hand.

The vast majority of the attendees moved out to the gardens. It was John’s first opportunity to move out there. It was a fascinating mix of plants from all over the world. They existed not in thematically segmented batches, but instead were scattered and combined, with no regards for differences. John was not sure if the fact that this worked was thanks to magic or thanks to Romulus’ gardener having very deep knowledge regarding what plants from entirely different biomes appreciated the same soil qualities.

Whoever that gardener was certainly had a good eye for details. There was an order to everything, without compromising on the aesthetics of the jungle or meadows. Most of the walkways were marked with white-brown stones, but some were open lawns. It was much smaller than the park at the centre of the imperial palace, but what structure here could truly be claimed to be small?

The crowd of hundreds of national elites was corralled to an amphitheatre in the middle of the gardens. It was clearly intended for stage plays, the white platform rising against a wall of black stone. That being said, the semi-circle of rising rows of stone seats was certainly suitable to house the audience and it was clearly not the first time it was being appropriated as an arena. That or the kind of plays Romulus enjoyed involved exceedingly practical effects.

Sol and Luna poured energy into the barrier enchantments that surrounded the stage, causing a wall of translucent silver and gold to shimmer for a moment before it turned fully see-through. John and Krieg were already positioned atop the platform, standing on opposite ends, about 25 metres between them.

The arena was not as huge as John would have wanted, but it would be suitable for the purposes of their fight. Fundamentally, a small space disadvantaged him, but anything short of having kilometres to play with would make little difference at their level of power anyhow.

John considered his strategy. Combination was an avenue here, but how effective would it be? Unless he could bridge the Stat gap of the roughly 300 levels between him and his familiars and Krieg, all he did was reduce the number of targets Krieg had to track. Simultaneously, decluttering the melee field would work for himself. Gnome, Siena, and the Creator Puppet were all close quarters fighters, Salamander was mid-range, Sylph distance, and if Undine or Stirwin Unleashed, they would also join upfront.

With all of that considered, Combination was likely going to work and the fight would last less than 10 minutes, so whatever he chose would last him the entire fight.

‘Which to pick?’ John thought, scanning through his manifold options. ‘I definitely should fuse Stirwin and I should not fuse Undine. Shame, Dendepthr would have been an option if we were in water… Twilight? Too unruly. Sylfrena would work, but that’s just fusing our ranged fighters. Smlere, 3-type, is the classic and works. That leaves Sylph and Siena. Hmmm, does Edge work here? I suppose she does. We are going non-lethal, after all. Difficult to say if she can ingest something of Krieg’s though.’

As John contemplated, Romulus declared the rules of the engagement. “Victory is achieved by making the other party surrender, on ring-out, subduing your opponent for thirty seconds, or passing out for ten. Sol, Luna, and I will keep the barrier intact, but do keep in mind the proximity to your viewers and hold back your most excessive powers accordingly. This is a friendly duel for the entertainment of the Mother of Fire, nothing more, nothing less.”

“As you say, old friend,” Krieg agreed in his deep baritone. Above his raised hand, various weapons of fire and obsidian flickered in and out of existence. Sword, spear, halberd, bow, lance, axe, claymore, and so on, always disappearing before they could fall into his open palm.

“Sounds good to me,” John gave his own go-ahead. Purgatory manifested, the dragon claw burning up his sleeve, melding with it rather than singing the Gaia-blessed cloth. Around his feet, the Skittersteps shifted their form slightly, the soles optimizing to create grip on the even stone. Inkaryl’s blades stretched anticipatingly, like a hand opened to grip something. The mace in the Creator Puppet’s hands was the focus of much of the attention.

The emperor nodded deeply and raised a hand. “BEGIN!” his voice thundered.

Krieg’s choice of weapon, a simple shortsword, dropped into his hand. At the same time, Undine flowed into Purgatory, as the elementals melded into the chosen Combinations.

From six to two, the familiars around their summoner were reduced. To his right was Smlere. Primarily a fusion of Gnome and Salamander, the warrior woman was of a mildly toned and curvaceous build, although she still stood a head shorter than John. Her shoulders and back were exposed, showing dense muscles, while a gold-yellow piece of magically secured cloth covered her front. A skirt of bladed plates surrounded her wide hips, partly hiding tanned legs under the knee-long grey metal. Her hair was braided magma, the lines between the strands glowing orange-hot, slag covering the surfaces. Eyes, hazel in deep red, focused with quiet determination on their enemy. Stirwin’s influence on the Combination added additional radiance and heat.

Edge was, in almost all ways, the polar opposite.

Small, barely taller than Sylph, the Gothic Lolita was covered by black satin and frills. They started a pale green, but became progressively darker towards the bottom, before ending with her loose miniskirt. Her skin was of a vampiric pale, but unlike Claire she had no issue exposing herself to the afternoon sun. The lean woman’s hair was of a dark, greyish green, contrasting sharply with the sulfuric yellow of her eyes. Grinning, she bit down on the claws that extended only from her left hand. Double canines gave her grin something truly unnerving.

Edge doubtlessly would have begun to chatter that very instant, had her body not turned into a large scythe. It was entirely impractical as a traditional weapon, from the curved shaft of grey wood to the black blade, reflecting the light like polished and oiled glass. Still, John wanted Smlere to grab it. One Combined elemental wielding the other. A strategy that he hoped would lead them to victory.

Preparations done, the combatants advanced towards each other.