Collide Gamer

Leryala, the Second of Light, lay at the bottom of a vat.

To call it a body would have been an overstatement. After they had scrubbed every bit of Lorylim matter out of the Metracana’s physical form, all that remained was a spine with a half-exposed ribcage inside a crystalline, slender torso. There were no limbs, no hip bone, not even a hint of a skull.

Still, the Metracana remained alive. Ehtra had been in a similar state after they pulled her out of the Death Zone. Their kind were nigh indestructible, to the point that all of them were still regularly seen well over 4000 years after they had been made. The only 2 missing had gone into hiding of their own accord. Their manner of creation was truly awe inspiring.

Although their forms were resilient, their minds had a breaking point. Ehtra had needed months to recuperate from her time as Tiamat’s attempt to make herself a new body. Leryala had suffered the touch of the goddess of chaos for a shorter time, but at a much higher intensity.

‘Who knows what is worse,’ John considered.

“Any changes?” Ehtra dared to have a splinter of hope enter her voice.

“Nothing,” Metra responded.

The blonde woman sat on the edge of the vat, staring down at it. Rex Magnar lay on the ground of the walkway adjacent to the cylindrical container, in arm’s reach of its owner. There was nothing else inside the chamber besides Leryala’s resting place, the walkway around it, and the door.

John closed it behind himself, joining his two beloved in staring at the broken mess of a sibling. “This war brings grief to all of us.”

“Such is the nature of war,” Ehtra stated grimly.

“All glory is bought with blood and tears.” A whetstone glided over the edge of a Baelementium sword, lending a sharp edge to Metra’s words. Of the three of them, she had the least visible care about the situation. John did not mistake her lack of reaction for a lack of troubles, but he also did not assume for Metra to feel intensely about this situation. War was Metra’s nature. If it could have broken her, it would have a long time ago.

“Leryala was always weak.” The grey angel stepped away from John’s half-embrace and began walking circles around the vat. “A chatter mouth too focused on serving her betters to question her own lack of capabilities. An optimist through and through, in times that did not justify it.”

“That’s a way to call her an idiot.” Metra chuckled and shook her head. “We’ll have her palaver again before long. Sylph can be her therapy, if need be.”

“If she volunteers for it.” Ehtra glanced at John, who had to shake his head.

“Nothing new on Observe,” he informed her.

The answer was acknowledged with a robotic nod. It was not what she had wanted to hear. It was all John had to offer. They remained in the quiet for a short while, before John excused himself. He was of no use here and this was not his sorrow to wallow in. He had his own burdens to carry.

John initially thought he’d be free of them for a little bit, when all he returned to in his apartment was Lorelei. Her serious expression made it clear that this was not the case.

“Observant as always, blessed Gamer,” she spoke quietly, as he approached.

“Not as observant as you.” John could sense her second sight penetrate his being, peering through his façade and at the emotions inside. “You have bad news for me?”

“It is… difficult for me to formulate what I must say without saying what I shall not say. One matter is not news to you, the other is not bad.”

John thought he understood, but he did not know if he did. He sat down across from Lorelei, the low coffee table between them, the Couch to their backs. The room was nearly totally quiet. A very mild ambient music ran to keep an unpleasant silence at bay.

Lorelei’s eyes were directed at her hands. It meant very little and yet a whole lot. The blind seer was always careful where her gaze was directed. A gesture to ease those who relied on sight to perceive the world around them.

“I can sense the festering hatred, John,” she finally addressed him.

John did not react at all at first. No tensed muscles, no stiff shoulders, not even a deep inhale. All he felt in that moment was… unsurprised. “Is that so?” he asked, because there were no other words that came to mind.

“I wish to help you.”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do for me.” John loathed saying that to one of his women, but he loathed lying about it even more. “I cannot attempt to let go of this rage, not when who I want to destroy is within reach. If my revenge was unobtainable, then I would seek my mending in you. As it stands, I can aim this squarely at the one who caused it.”

“…You already know that your revenge is unobtainable,” Lorelei meekly said.

John grit his teeth with such intensity, he heard a high-pitched buzz in his ears. His lower jaw tried its best to grind the upper half into the rest of his skull. He averted his gaze, refusing to glare with such hatred in the direction of one of his women. He focused on a random pattern in the texture of the wooden rim of his coffee table.

“It – is – not,” he pressed out slowly.

“John…”

“It is not!” he repeated loudly. “That is the last I will hear on the matter!”

“Please, beloved, look at me.”

John had to steady himself, to gain control of his emotions before he did as she asked. When he finally managed to, he did not find the gentle expression of the meek seer that he had expected, but the stone-faced stare of a lover who had to say what hurt her.

“Before you are two paths and both are untravelled. One proves Izha right, the other makes him triumphant and you have no third choice. You will die with hate in your heart if you continue on like this. You will meet your end if you push beyond.”

“…Have you been scrying, Lorelei?”

“I have found spaces to do so during the recent offensive. He is mighty, not omnipresent. He is not the Lady.”

“The Lady,” John spat out the title. “Gaia. The heartless ruler of reality, silently sitting above. She has not said a word to me since it happened. No Achievements, no Quests, and all other windows have been generated automatically. I can recognize it by the absence of her attitude.” Quiet. “No response to any of that?”

“You are blaspheming to make me angry, to distract from what I said,” Lorelei spoke evenly. “It will not work.”

“Then what will work?!” John threw his arms up into the air. The rage in his heart had made its way to the surface, but it was neither cold nor hot – it was petulant. He refused to scream at her. He had to do something with all of this emotion. It was an impossible situation.

“You must accept what choices you are given.”

“I hate both choices.”

“And they are all that you have to choose between.” Lorelei’s features softened, until there was a plea on her face. “I cannot ask you to let go of your hatred. All that I can request is that you do not let it grow further. The ending is written now, the pieces were set before you were aware of them.”

“Now I can only play the part that leads to the outcome that I want,” John finished the thought for her. “I’ll win, but I will have to give up on the vengeance – on the one thing I want the most.”

“I believe in your goodness. Vengeance is not your greatest desire. A brighter tomorrow is.”

John was embarrassed to hear someone speak of him so highly. The emotion was enough to overpower the impotent anger, but in the process lost its own staying power. Left numb and emotionally exhausted, he wondered if he had something in common with Leryala at that moment.

‘We all do,’ he thought. ‘This is all a cascading effect from Tiamat’s decisions.’ “The Abyss is terrifying,” the Gamer muttered. “I forget it sometimes. The mundane world is terrifying too. One man in a position of power decrees something and thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions skitter forwards according to his will. As horrifying as that can be, at least there are millions of individual choices made there. Support is given and can be taken. Resources are consumed. The Abyss is not shackled this way. One creature alone can move mountains and all it needs to keep running is a sandwich every now and again…” He giggled at his own joke. It was a hollow mirth. “…A thousand gods, tearing humanity to shreds to have their piece.”

John sat on the Couch, defeated. He wasn’t certain yet if he could do what Lorelei had asked of him. This rage wanted to grow. He was running out of spaces to let it. Any further and it would bite into the love he had for and the loves he had in this life.

Before he could be overwhelmed in that way, he found himself tugged at by the shoulder. A moment later, he found his head on the exceedingly squishy thighs of Beatrice.

He hadn’t noticed the passive maid entering. He did notice the knit of her brow and the quivering of her lower lip. More than that, he noticed how wet her eyes were. Few things were as potent as the tears of a woman not prone to emotions. Even if they did not fall, John saw them. That was enough. While she caressed his head, he reached up and did the same, fingers parting silvery-white strands that had been styled into a perfect mess.

“Order: you can die, but you are not allowed to perish.”

“Since when do maids give orders?”

“Analysis: Since always. The Master that believes himself owed obedience is no Master at all. The Master is the head of the household, the maid is the neck.” She took his head between both hands and squished his cheeks. “Conclusion: Master is allowed to die, but he is not allowed to perish. Affirmative?”

“…Affirmative,” John spoke past his squished lips. He wasn’t entirely sure if he meant it. Rather, he was certain he meant it in the moment, but he was too wise to believe this moment in the freedom of his living room would compare to whatever he would feel when that time came. He moved onto the other topic, before Beatrice could get more upset. “What is the other matter you wished to talk about, Lorelei?”

“If I may, I suggest you prepare your harem to expand by 4 within the coming weeks.”

“…Okay, Lorelei, I know what we just talked about, but you do not need to give me more reasons to live than I already have.” The source of thɪs content is 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩⟡𝘧𝙞𝙧𝙚⟡𝘯𝘦𝘵

“May I speak candidly?”

“…I am afraid of what I am about to hear, to be honest, but yes?”

Lorelei clasped her hands in prayer. “I have found great enjoyment in guiding the women whose intentions are pure, whose characters are fitting and whose cravings match ours to your embrace and cock, John.”

The confession gave him enough tonal whiplash to actually wipe away everything beyond a mild sensation of being flabbergasted. He was alone in that. Beatrice continued to play with his hair as if nothing unusual had just been said. If anything, she bobbed her head in mildly agreeing nods. “…Lorelei, have you developed a new kink because of the chastity belt? Do you love watching me have sex with other women that much?”

“This may be connected, but it is not the origin of my enthusiasm.” Lorelei closed her eyes. She tilted her head back, as if receiving divine intuition from the heavens. “Recent developments have made what is obvious official. You are blessed, Gamer, a saint by all measures spiritual and objective. It therefore follows that the harem is a divine institution and must be cherished and extended to its limits.”

“Lorelei, you are talking Claire right now,” the Gamer told her, his mouth arguing despite the agreement of his hard penis. “The limit is 30 anyhow, Jane said as much.”

A knowing smile played around Lorelei’s full lips. “The first of the harem knows much. Proper limits are not amongst that knowledge. Should you not trust your seer on what the proper size of your harem is? Your beautiful souls are laid bare to my eyes, as are the futures that could be fruitful.”

‘…Oh no, she is making sense!’ John was alarmed. He was also highly comfortable. There was no opening to sit up among the scalp massaging wiggles of Beatrice’s fingers. He was in the greatest trap of all, glued to a pair of thighs just too thick to lift his head from them. “Still though, 4 more? Who even?”

“I shall not disclose.”

“We just went through this with the Layla situation!”

“Interjection: this will not be the same. Layla was specifically hidden for reasons of her improper access to the Palace to get her accustomed to your presence, Master.” Beatrice scratched him under the chin. “The remaining harem has been informed of Lorelei’s plans and is currently evaluating their validity. Outlook: positive.”

“It will be my sacred mission to assure that your seed finds purchase in as many wombs as your love can contain,” Lorelei declared.

John let out a sigh of relief when Beatrice popped open his pants for him. His dick had been straining against the waistband to the point of torture. “I’ll reiterate: this is crazy. What convinced you to go full zealot on this of all things?”

“That shall remain obscured for now,” Lorelei responded.

“Hiding things from me?” John growled in his dom voice. There was a part of his brain that warned him that he would only encourage her if he would say what he would say next. There was everything else of him, especially the member that currently claimed a fair amount of his blood, that told him to let Lorelei go through with whatever crazy plan she was concocting. The everything else won. “As punishment, you’re going to clean my cock with your mouth.”

“Yes, my Saint,” Lorelei moaned.