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The Gamer Chapter 1549 – Follow-Up
🕑 Added 2023-10-27 10:51:40 +0000 UTC“Masssster, ye-e-e-esssss, I love you! I love you, I loveyou, iloveyouIloveyouIloveyouI…” Claire’s chatter echoed in the tiny chamber and likely into the corridors beyond. There was not a single care John had for that fact. Fucking Lu Zhi he had to hide, fucking his haremettes between fights was just what he did.
Claire’s crimson eyes glowed in the darkness. Her pale skin rose against the backdrop of the wall he had her lifted against. Her legs were laid over his arms, his hands held her by the waist, and her bubble butt cushioned every time he pushed her slender form against the wall. Petite breasts bounced with every impact, their little mass moving enticingly.
All of the vampire was delicious to dominate and she eagerly moaned out between her streams of venerating words. The tiny secret room was filled with their intertwining scents and those prayers of obsession.
Claire pulled him deeper into the embrace, made him truly pin her against the wall with his entire form. “I love your breath in my ear,” she cooed. “Mhhhm-oore.”
John obliged, continuing to pound her against the wall until he came inside her for the second time. After that, things notably calmed down – when it came to sexual desire.
“Don’t,” the Gamer said, while getting dressed.
“Don’t what, Master?” Claire asked innocently. “Don’t torture your enemies like the scum they are? Don’t drive them into the dust, writhing in pain from a thousand spider bites?” Her innocence bled away with every word, until her face was only a display of hatred. “Don’t hound them until their guts spill out of their wounds?”
“Yes, don’t do any of that.” John pulled his collar taut and waited for her reaction.
“But Master…” The way she pushed her lower lip out almost made John cave on allowing her to commit war crimes. For as much as he wanted to do that, though, and for as much as the Purest Front would have deserved it, this was not the time and place.
“We have the moral high ground to defend.”
“The moral high ground.” Claire rolled her eyes, amusement crossing her face. “I’m with you when it comes to staying our hand to avoid becoming a tyrant, my beloved Master, but when an enemy insults you, you go for their throat. That is the way of achieving dominance.”
“An eye for an eye, and soon the entire world is blind,” John cautioned.
“Sounds like someone that fought an enemy that refused to pick their eyes out first.”
John sighed and scratched the back of his head. To be ever entirely ‘civilized’, the vampire maid just had seen too much brutality and inequality in her life. “Stay your hand – for me?” he pleaded.
“Now that’s just unfair.” Claire wrapped her arms around his back. “You know I can’t not do something for you.” She snuggled up against his chest, taking several deep inhales and giggling with lovable madness all the while. “I would stab them if I could. Pull their stomachs out through their throats and watch them drown in their blood for slighting you, my John.”
“I know,” he said and combed through her hair. “Violence isn’t the answer I want here, though.”
“As long as we’re clear that it is an answer.” Claire rubbed up against him. “Did I ever mention how much I hate the world for the fact that time doesn’t just stop when we cuddle?”
“We’d freeze time for all eternity if it did until we wished to separate,” John cautioned.
“And what would be so bad about that?”
To that, he had no answer that would satisfy the crazy minx. Instead, he just kissed her again and listened to the little squeals in her throat and watched the surge of pink take hold of her mental landscape. It switched to a deep, angry black when he made motions to leave. She did not stop him, however, just genuinely hated reality itself for being so unreasonable not to stop time.
To be Claire was to feel strongly, a fact proven over and over again.
Back on the viewing platform, John joined up with the rest of his harem. Delicia was doing last minute improvements to the Creator Puppet, while Scarlett stood over the Mandala Sphere. Them doing their work semi-openly wasn’t of concern when they were only doing the basic work of repairing and adding minor bits.
“Can I take it out to battle again?” John asked Scarlett.
“Depends.” The technomancer took a dramatic pause, staring at him. “How ready are you to have my foot up your ass?”
“I take it that it’s not doing well then?” the Gamer asked. The question was somewhat redundant. He could see that the Durability of the item was down to 55% even after the first repairs. Of course, John could do the repairs himself using Create, but that would take far more time than his paranoia told him he would have. The two actual crafters were better at putting in the emergency repairs.
“Given the level of these fights, it can take two, maybe three more hits?” Scarlett theorized.
“Ain’t it gonna be better if you use the Ambassador Double?” Rave asked.
“To a limited degree. Bigger target, better Endurance, but still uses up the Durability. The healing factor of 1% per hour is utterly negligible though.”
“We’re doing better over here,” Delicia said. Before anyone could call her out on it, she waved off. “Yes, I know it’s easier when ya work with something built to be tossed away.”
“It’s still tens of thousands of Tokens,” John cautioned her.
“How much did ya enjoy saying a reasonable currency number?” Rave asked.
“Quite a lot, actually.” Puffing out his chest, the Gamer stood proud. Changing the numbers on his spreadsheets from having upwards of six zeros to upwards of 2 was just rewarding in all the right ways. Sometimes, numbers going down was the best feeling that could be had.
“We’re doing pretty fucking good now,” Eliana commented. “They’re down to three, we’re still at five.”
“It’s probable that numbers won’t mean much in the end,” John said while he approached his chair. Maximillian had left at some point, probably to do with his fiancée what John had done with his maid. “Exhaustion is unlikely to contribute much to a defeat. At our power level, 30 minute breaks are typically enough to heal fully.”
The truth of those words lay in the presence of Gnome. She had respawned about fifteen minutes after the fight had concluded and, by John’s calculations, Salamander would return just before the next pairing was drawn. Even in the unlikely case that he had to fight again, he would be practically restored. The only lasting damage would be to the Mandala Sphere.
“I’ll fuck with them a little harder than you were fucked with,” Eliana stated.
“That is fair, actually,” John stated. “Also we don’t know how much of a hassle it is to repair those bodies.”
“The way they function continues to elude me.” Lydia regally sat down in the chair to the right of John’s. The queen crossed her legs. Blue eyes awaited John’s analysis.
The Gamer, for his part, first took stock of the situation. Save for Hailey, Aclysia, and Lee, all of his haremettes were present. When it came to foreign influence, not even Lu Zhi was around. They were among themselves. Not that this meant that they were private. For a few seconds, he considered if he was fine with anyone, particularly the Horned Rat and Luna, picking up what he said. Ultimately, he decided he was.
“I’m fairly clear on the process used to create them being a modified version of what Mengele used to create Thana,” the Gamer stated. “Just that, instead of pressing the souls of the Holocaust victims into Eliza, he used the souls in the sand and pushed them into bodies of metal. How that worked, however…” John shrugged, “…anyone’s guess. We’d have to extract the process from Mengele’s brain. I doubt he has shared it with many people.”
“It can die with him,” Thana stated, harshly.
Scarlett clicked her tongue. “Knowledge is useful.”
The goddess of genocide turned the entirety of her hatred towards the redhead. Even if Eliza and Eliana were part of the harem, with all of the love for one another that entailed, Thana was not. The aura of the goddess descended heavily on the small chamber. John could almost see tendrils of aggression worm their way towards Scarlett.
The redhead slightly cocked her head and stared. “It's not even possible to make another one of you,” the technomancer stated flatly. “The Faith is claimed.”
“There are other terrible things humans can come up with,” Thana growled.
“And other very desirable things.” Scarlett shrugged. “The process will be discovered. Unless it’s tied to his Innate Ability, maybe even if it is, someone, somewhere, will be able to replicate it.”
“I’ll kill them all.”
Scarlett rolled her eyes and took two steps forward. “Fucking start with me then.” The technomancer bowed forwards, until her face was level with that of the goddess of genocide. “Because I’m not stopping my innovations because you’re too scared of someone to let everyone else prosper.”
A near clacking sound echoed from Thana’s throat. Nothing needing intervention happened, though, at least not external ones. The failed goddess’ hateful expression made room for annoyance. “You have the tact of a fucking pig’s carcass,” Eliana cussed.
“Tact is for people who don’t mean what they say.” Scarlett straightened up and brushed a strand of long red hair behind her ear. “Why did I let you convince me to grow this out, John?” she turned her complaints to the next person.
“Because you look lovely with it?” the Gamer suggested.
Scarlett clicked her tongue, then returned to the Mandala Sphere. “Bae, do you have an extra hair tie?”
“Affirmative.”
“…Then give it to me.”
While that exchange was going on, John became the seat for one of his girls. Momo, without any warning, suddenly dropped into his lap. Her plush butt cushioned the impact, but it was still so surprising that it knocked the wind out of John for a moment. Then, he was too distracted by the adorable fairy in his lap to pay it much mind.
“You know the entire world can see you right now, yeah?” he asked, running two fingers over the smoothness of her neck.
“Like I… care.” Momo’s answer had a little bit of hesitation and her face had that traitorous bit of red to it. She very much did care. She just wanted to sit in his lap more than embarrassment dissuaded her.
“God, I love you!” the Gamer let the confession burst out. He nibbled on her ear. The blush intensified fiercely. Momo tried to hide her face between the leather cover and the body of the e-reader she was using.
“Stop being you and tell us more about how you think they function!” the fae maid demanded.
“I don’t think I can stop being me.”
“Yeah, I know your ego will get in the way, but try anyway. Least you can do after taking your perv break.”
“Jealous?” John kept pushing her.
“You wish,” the sassy maid responded instantly.
John was of half a mind to start feeling her up until that bratty façade began to crumble. This was neither the time nor place, though. “I assume that these metal bodies are actually their bodies and that they can regenerate them like either elementals or Artificial Spirits regenerate. Has anyone seen Singed today?”
Rave’s opponent had been the one most notably torn apart by their actions. Considering the value of the materials and the level of necessary craftsmanship involved, he couldn’t have been easy to staple back together. If the regeneration was natural, be it completely or with the necessary materials provided, him being up and running again was much more likely.
The answer to his question, however, was universal denial. That did not necessarily mean that Singed was still getting his replacement parts forged. It was just as likely, if not more, that Mengele had put him somewhere he couldn’t be seen. Liakan, for her part, was around again, but her wounds had been ultimately less severe.
“My instinct tells me they need repairs,” John gave his opinion. “Largely because of how Malot’s soul was a separate entity from his body. He may be the outlier on this one though. He was all around… special.”
“None of them seem quite like one another,” Nia commented. “There’s groups, but no absolute overlap.”
“I suppose being the survivors of their souls getting turned into sand elevated their specialties.” Lydia changed which of her legs was on top. “The entirety of the Azure Tribe, reduced to seven people.”
“Seven that we know of,” John said.
“You believe there will be more?”
“I believe it is best to expect there to be more.”
Lydia showed a soft smile. “Your second-guessing will serve you well here, I reckon. Regardless, do you reckon this reduction had a hand in their might?”
“Doubtlessly, especially Arkan. I don’t think he was an individual to begin with.”
“You believe him to be an amalgam?” Lydia’s question was curious in the way people sounded when they had the same or a similar theory.
“His behaviour is strangely vacant of personal thoughts. Everyone else has been expressing themselves in a variety of ways, but he seems like he is just… going through the motions,” John explained his rationale. “That’s ultimately good for us, it means he might be dissuaded from being Mengele’s pawn if given the proper incentives and reasons. We’ll just have to find out what he cares about.”
“Statement: he cares about knowledge,” Beatrice chimed in. “Clarification: if my short conversation with him during combat are to be taken as accurate, then he wishes to explore his abilities and further his understanding. Mengele likely supplies him with ample opportunities.”
“The advantage of being a scientist without a moral code,” Momo mumbled.
“He does, however, have an ideological one,” John thought out loud. “If Arkan ever starts tapping into knowledge that goes outside the bounds of the Purest Front’s sanctioned worldview, he may experience the disillusion of the unaligned.”
“Or he’ll buy into it hook, line, and sinker,” Metra weighed in. “Didn’t you get the feeling your enemy did that, Nia?”
The pariah gave a quiet nod. “Laurence had the temperament of an ideologue.”
“Singed felt like he was kind of a cool guy. Bit flirty, but I can beat that outta him,” Rave added.
“Malot seemed similarly all right, even offered a private conversation some other time. I’m inclined to take it, when there’s the opportunity.”
“Orkos will never negotiate with a faction I am a part of.” Nathalia crossed her arms. “Not that he could… Not that I believe he would be capable of leading any negotiations anyhow.”
John shot her a smile, only to let her know he had caught her effort to formulate that in a less haughty way. “Still, all around it seems like the Azure Tribe could be detached from the Purest Front with enough diplomatic effort. Especially if we show them that staying with Mengele is the loser’s path.” ‘No idea if killing Mengele will help or hinder that goal though.’
The future was, as ever, uncertain.
