Collide Gamer

‘I was wondering when one of those would pop up again,’ John thought. The timing was a bit random, but he wasn’t going to complain. There were no grinding sessions planned, so the EXP reduction wouldn’t impact him too much. Moving the Breeder system out of the Classes and into its own category would hopefully be useful in other ways.

John dismissed the window mid-walk, continuing his advance towards the double-winged door. Aclysia and Beatrice waited patiently, then pushed it open just as John stepped up to it. Passing through without pause, the Gamer continued his march.

The throne room of the Palace opened up before him. It was as glorious as ever, a room of marble and imperial banners, the ceiling three stories up and the crowd pooling at the feet of the dais. Lavender water and red lava flowed through the channels in the marbled floor, glass and crystal isolating the flowing fluids from the people. They were only one of many manifestations that the divine magic of Nathalia and Nightingale had on the space.

The twin maids followed their Master to the Throne. It was a huge thing with a wide, swinging seat of rich purple velvet among white stone, trimmed with silver and gold. John sat down, first, then gestured for his maids to do as they pleased. Graceful, they took their positions to his left and right. The shape of the seat made them tilt towards him, a fact that they supported. Dotingly, they wrapped their arms around him.

Cameras clicked. ‘We probably make for a good magazine cover,’ John thought.

‘Statement: yes, we do.’

‘As long as they remember their place.’ Aclysia interrupted her smiles to send a chilling glare at the journalists. The clicking of the cameras immediately slowed and everyone double-checked that they had the flashes deactivated. John did not appreciate getting hit with strong light. He was traumatized by too many white pages, opened in the dead of night, scorching his retinas.

John retained an instinctive dislike of journalists. It started with his gaming background and the sheer amount of poorly founded reviews traditional gaming magazines gave online. Dominant was his personal experience with the reporter class, especially early on in Fusion’s existence. They had the morals of a cockroach when it came to getting a big scoop. Even worse were those that asked leading questions to satisfy some personal political agenda.

Over the years, John had intimidated and bullied reporters into being sensible. The press core that remained was either on his side or, at least, respectful of him in their adverse stance. Some took their loyalty to him to another level, having risen from their seats when he had entered. They were few, three in a crowd of twenty, arranged in a 4x5 block of comfortable seats. Cameras were placed on all sides, livestreaming the event to whoever wanted to watch.

“Be seated.” The loyalists sat down, the room quieted. “As per usual, I will warn that this broadcast is not appropriate for minors. The reporters each have a tablet that will signal them when it is their turn to ask a question.” John was handed a tablet by Beatrice, which would let him send that signal. “They may or may not choose to take questions for their newsletter subscribers, that is up to each individual agency. With all of that said, first question.” He chose a reporter at random.

The reporter, a young man with a bushy beard, practically jumped up. “Emperor Newman, I wish to present to you one of the many questions on everyone’s mind: what is the nature of the viceroys and what can we expect from them in the future?”

“I can only give a rough answer to that, as the true expanse of the nobility’s function in the future is yet to be determined. As you will have, no doubt, learned from interviews of our top businessmen as well as high ranking politicians, I have decided to undo parts of the separation of powers. That is to say that I and my women, the Imperial Harem, will be able to be judge, jury and executioner – and that we may further bestow this privilege to others in limited capacities. The viceroys are my personally chosen representatives.” He took a short pause. “The exact details are yet to be hammered out, but that’s the general idea.”

The man opened his mouth to ask a follow-up question, but sat down when he realized John was pressing another button. ‘Good, they have been trained to be courteous,’ Aclysia thought into their mental connection.

Worlina rose up, jumping on a pedestal that had been placed in front of her seat. The redheaded goblin clearly enjoyed standing head and shoulder above the crowd. Adjusting her glasses, she scanned the questions on her tablet. “There are a number of rumours that our readers would like you to address, my Emperor.”

“Keep it to 3,” John requested.

“As you desire… number one, is it true that you are planning to introduce a law that gives you the right to impregnate any fertile woman you fancy?”

“…Are there really people suggesting I’d legalize rape for myself?” John asked, beyond flabbergasted. “Obviously not.”

“Next rumour is whether or not you plan to create national sex slave schools to train adult women to be breeding mares for the men of the nation.”

“Okay, again, no, obviously?” The Gamer’s eyebrows furrowed, to the amusement of Aclysia and Beatrice. The whole room was chuckling at his confusion. “I know that everyone is aware about how dominant I like being in my love life but I am not making that national policy? BDSM is beautiful for the consensual slavery play.”

“Well, according to the rumour you would be training young women to really like that position.”

The pervy part of John’s brain was wondering whether he could make that work. The answer was: in a limited capacity, absolutely. There was always a large section of the population that was following the dominant culture with a herd mentality. If he connected sexual submission in women to cultural status, he could absolutely raise the number of them… but at what cost? And why? Why would he do any of that?

“Putting aside whether or not I could, it’s not like I am one of those guys who considers female sexual submission inherently good or bad. I have absolutely no such plans, people can choose for themselves. I have no right meddling in the bedroom.”

“But isn’t Aclysia’s maid school effectively doing this?” Worlina kept poking. “Especially with the orphans that pulled into that school?”

“The sexual education in my maid academy is entirely voluntary and has no reflection on the grades,” Aclysia was swift to answer. “Independent investigators have been allowed to check these claims. The worst report we have received to that end is that the entire school is suffused in undertones of submissiveness, which is correct. A maid’s position is found in loyalty to her Master, after all.”

“We need to move on,” John declared. “The answer is: no, I am not opening such schools and I have no intent of having Fusion develop a policy on preferred sexual behaviour between consenting adults. What stupidity do you have for the last rumour?”

“Is it true that you are trying to get your harem to be declared holy by the Order of the Golden Rose?”

At times like this, John was happy that his brain was so fast that he could recover from the question before the pause became suspicious. “Personally, I have no such designs, no.”

He hit the button for the next reporter to rise before Worlina could hook into that formulation. It wasn’t that John would have been ashamed of admitting to Lorelei’s schemes, but that the line of question would inevitably lead to Moira.

The next speaker was a humanoid mantis with big, yellow eyes. “We would like to know how the integration of the Awakened is going?”

“As smoothly as it could go,” John reported. “Which means it’s a bumpy ride. We are dealing with a vast number of people who have no idea what they’re dealing with, some are drunk on their new power, but we benefit from Fusion’s national youth. We have the flexibility and space to integrate these newcomers. They disrupt little about our structures, since so little was settled in the first place. There’s some cultural resistance due to my new status as monarch, but that usually gets settled quickly.”

“What is your plan for them in the long-term?”

“I wish for them to stay in the Abyss and strengthen Fusion. It is no secret that we are lacking in manpower and have way more land than we know what to do with. They are, of course, free to return to the mundane. However, I believe that the stable Abyss advertises itself.”

The mantis nodded, then settled down. A press of a button made a middle-aged dwarf rise next. “To forthrightly play into racial stereotypes,” he said in a gruff, direct tone, “how is the Token going?”

“Beatrice, if you would,” John passed that question on.

The white-horned dragon maid stopped studying the swing of his neck. “Information: the supply of Tokens in the global economy has grown by 25% each month in an attempt to meet demands of the cash flow. Minting of new coins is currently halted to let the economy stabilize following the massive contraction due to lives lost. Estimation of the point of currency saturation is currently impossible. Outflow of Tokens into the global economy is proceeding according to the corrected model. Summary: the Token is the de-facto currency of the Abyss and will replace the dollar in every local transaction in due time.”

The dwarf nodded approvingly. Much like Dramar, his kind infinitely preferred a hard metal currency over paper that was only worth itself. Though, as John understood it, saying aloud that dwarves and dragons had a lot in common was a cultural faux-pas.

Another button press, another reporter stood up and asked another question. “Are there any new Latebloomers?”

“Out of respect for their privacy, I will not answer that question at this time,” John returned.

“If I may, another question instead, then: are you looking into the Kingdom portals that are opening up around the place? Any developments you can share with us, if you are?”

“I am and on this I also have to deny a further answer, for national security reasons.”

The reporter nodded, then sat down.

It was Cindy who got to stand up next. The blonde cat girl flashed him a smirk. The Gamer returned it mildly. Sometimes he got the feeling that the cat girl was trying to land in his harem, but if that was her angle, she was putting too little work into it. Likely she was just wondering if she could get ploughed again, honest slut that she was.

“How are your wedding preparations coming along?” the blonde asked.

“Decently. It’s all a bit of a hurry given the short timetable we gave to ourselves, but it will happen in that week no matter what. It is better to execute an okay plan now than a perfect one in a year.”

Cindy sat down. In her stead, an older woman rose up. “What is your stance on the brewing conflict in China, Emperor Newman?”

That was a tough one. Technically speaking, his relationship with Lu Zhi was still secret, though the rumour mill had upped tremendously since she had mobilized her banners to join him in the Lorylim war. Everyone, correctly, understood that it hadn’t been the action of a simple ally. The Heavenly Jade Empress was known as a political pragmatist, she would not have done all the things she did for just anyone.

“I have a debt to Lu Zhi that I will repay, if she ever demands it.”

“Do you not have that same debt to Vinh?” the woman asked. “She was the first to heed the call and wiped out a Lorylim army.”

“She did that in her position as the vassal of the Heavenly Jade Empress and declared her rebellion thereafter. Whatever happens next, the rightful ruler of the Mandate of Heaven will know my support. Whether that means that Fusion will provide troops or just my personal aid, I cannot say at this time.”

“But troops are on the table?”

“Yes.” There was no benefit in denying this. If he did, he would just look less committed to one of his loves and would eventually gain the ire of his people.

The reporter nodded and ended her questioning.

The interview continued on without any more interesting topics.