Collide Gamer

“The Horned Rat, Aristocrat Celeste and Great Researcher Norahnon of the Illuminati!” Undine announced the next arrivals.

John was so desensitized to fantastical creatures, that he looked at the scientist before the rat god in the room. With bags under his eyes as dark as the coffee he was drinking, Norahnon shambled along with his fellow nation leaders. His lab coat hung from his hunched shoulders. His messy head of hair looked even worse than usual.

Celeste, by comparison, was the same prim and proper display of noble dignity as always. Her hair, so black it almost felt impossible, was worn straight and parted unequally on her forehead with almost mathematical precision. For this occasion, she’d covered her slender, tall form in an old-style military uniform.

While John studied the humans, the Awakened all around stared at the Horned Rat. The god of future calamity moved on all fours, dripping acidic spit as he moved. The muscles under his greyish brown fur had bulked to a point of nightmarish exaggeration. The skull head, easily the most recognizable aspect of the god, had grown in equal measure, the mixture of various sharp teeth made extra spiky for the display.

Upon reaching John, the Horned Rat suddenly rose upright. He threw his head back and let out a roar of many creatures. Cawing of ravens, squeaking of rats, screeching of bats, meowing of cats, they all mixed together to form a continued stream of noise. The onlookers all around them trembled. Where the old Abyssals kept their ground, the new Abyssals began to step back.

Just before the breaking point of the crowd was reached, the Horned Rat stopped. His inflated form shrunk down as he tilted forwards. By the time he faced forwards again, his head was on John’s level. “Greetings, Emperor of Fusion,” he said.

“Welcome, triumvirate of the Illuminati,” John responded in kind. “Fusion is in joy to host its longest allies once more.”

“Az are ve for attending another zuch celebration,” Celeste said, her accent as sharp as ever.

“…Bed… where…?” Norahnon mumbled.

Rave snorted in amusement. “This way.”

They chatted idly about this or that as they made their way to the car. Once the door was closed behind them, John groaned. “Was that really necessary?”

“It furthers our goals, doesn’t it?” the Horned Rat responded, to the general annoyance of everyone around him. Well, Celeste’s annoyance, Norahnon had passed out the moment he was no longer in motion. “The Awakened need a bit of intimidation.”

“I suppose that is true,” John relented. “A bit… crude though, is it not?”

“You disappoint, disappoint me a lot,” the Horned Rat spoke in his layered voice, deep and high-pitched. “A true schemer knows not to waste time on complications. We have more, more tools than a hammer but nails remain nails.”

“Can’t argue with that…” John spoke slowly. He hesitated for a moment after, unsure whether he wanted to extend an invitation to talk to just the Horned Rat or the whole triumvirate. He opted for the latter. They could sort it out themselves. “There were developments regarding the Kingdom gates that I wish to talk about in depth at a future opportunity. Tomorrow, after breakfast, if time allows.”

“Interesting, interesting.” The Horned Rat cackled. “Must be terrible news if you wish to keep it short.”

“We vill see,” Celeste added.

____________________________________________________________________________

“Romulus, Second Emperor, Ruler of the Sons of Rome and the Greater Empire, the Apex of the Abyss, and his brother Remus, Prometheus of Prometheus, Godmaker,” Undine announced the arrivals.

“Careful, Brother,” Romulus said.

“Thank you,” Remus returned.

One brother helped the other out of the barge. This was the first time John laid eyes on Remus’ true body. He was Romulus’ twin, no doubt about that. The Godslayer had chosen a regular height for himself, a ‘mere’ 1,80 metres. It must have been a giant size 10000 years ago, considering global trends.

Remus was at the same height. His facial features and bone structure were the same. Yet, he was an entirely different person. A life of a calculating, some would say sociopathic, mindset reflected in the way the muscles on his face layered on top of the shared foundation. Remus was immediately identifiable, his green eyes lacking the Apex’s warmth, his lips refusing to move in any expression beyond cold stoicism.

Even more stark were the marks that thousands of years in the Sands of Time had left. Remus was emaciated, barely capable of putting one foot in front of the other without assistance. It was oddly warming to see Romulus help his brother walk, even knowing the surrounding circumstances. The Apex had put the Godmaker in that situation in the first place and it was yet to be seen if they would be able to overcome their differences.

Romulus was evidently willing to ensure that his brother was in good health, even if that made him a stronger enemy down the line. Though, it had to be said, John didn’t fear Remus for his physical capacities. Like the Gamer, Remus was one to externalize his power. It was influence and intellect that made him a potentially formidable foe.

Once he was out of the boat, Remus straightened up and pulled his shoulders back. The lack of back musculature still kept him shorter than his brother. He walked slowly, uncaring of displaying himself as a crippled, malnourished skeleton of a man to the world.

John found that unnerving more than anything. It was just another entry into the long list of proof that Remus did not care about the opinions of anyone else. An admirable quality in some cases, but in the hands of a literal Godmaker, perhaps some respect for feedback from his fellow man would have been advantageous.

‘But that just reiterates our differences in moral philosophy,’ John thought. ‘He thinks the world is moved only by the strong. I think the world is moved by the strong supported by the masses.’

“John.” Romulus extended a hand in greeting.

“Romulus.” The Gamer took it and shook it. “It’s odd to see you standing a head shorter than me.”

“It’s not quite a head,” the Apex responded with a chuckle.

“Where did ya leave Sol and Luna?” Rave asked, while giving Romulus a greeting hug.

“They’re with me,” he answered. A short shimmer in the air clarified the incorporeal state the elemental goddesses had currently assumed.

“John Newman.” Remus extended his hand next.

“Remus.” The Emperor of Fusion took it as well. It was surprisingly weak. The state that Remus was in wasn’t for show. Ten-thousand years in the Sands of Time could diminish even a man like him to a degree that took more than a few weeks of Abyssal medicine to fix. “Your swift ascent to the leadership of Prometheus surprises me.”

“No, it does not,” the emaciated man stated drily, then began to walk past him.

Aclysia stared at the Godmaker, her eyes burning with a cold fury at the obvious disrespect. Sighing silently, John moved along with the situation. “Shall we, then?” he asked Romulus.

“Indeed,” the Apex agreed.

They moved along, once more only doing idle chatter while walking, trying to appear courteous to the public. Remus waited in the car, trusting the driver to help him inside. Even that walk was enough to cover the Godmaker in sweat.

“Perhaps I should have retained the sand body,” he dared a joke, once they were all inside.

At least John thought it was a joke. Remus was hard to read. He chuckled either way, then asked, “What happened with it anyhow?”

“You already know,” Remus responded.

“I think I know, but I like to verify.”

“It’s a tool to be in more than one place. You are familiar with the concept.”

John’s other bodies were currently doing paperwork and helping with all the last minute organizational stuff. “One could say so.”

Luna manifested in the car on her beloved’s lap. Sol attempted to do the same, but the regular size that Romulus currently had made that a difficult endeavour. The car wasn’t at fault for that one, it had been designed with up to three-metre-tall entities in mind.

Through the contact lenses, John saw the enveloping, cold moonlight that shrouded them from the outside in the same way that Nightingale’s magic would have. “The Kingdom gates,” the lady of the moon began immediately, “they have stopped appearing these last two days. Did you apprehend the source?”

“In a sense,” John responded. “I respect your curiosity but that will be a longer conversation.”

Sol narrowed her golden gaze. “One you will invite us to or one you will have with Muris?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” John responded. “Whether or not you knowing about this will be to my advantage is difficult to decide.”

The rulers of Europe were visibly annoyed by that declaration, Romulus more so than Remus. “Secrecy has done nothing but tarnish our relationship before,” the Apex cautioned.

“Caution all the same runs through the essence of my soul.” The Gamer shrugged, both of his hands held between those of one of his loves. “This is my decision to make, completely. I can assure you that I am not hiding your brother from you this time.”

That was good enough for Romulus, for now.

____________________________________________________________________________

“Lydia Augusta the Fourth of House Hohenzollern, Empress in Rex Germaniae,” Undine declared.

The introduction caused some muttering among those in the know about the political meaning of using that particular title. That part of the crowd had only grown larger over the last few hours. While only a few people arrived on this pier, the one dedicated to the wider pool of VIPs was a steady stream akin to a red-carpet gala. After going through the ceremony there, the Abyssals of import and their retainers often streamed up here.

Where they could smirk or scoff at John having just, effectively, having made the statement that Fusion backed the idea of Rex Germaniae’s independence. ‘Queen of Rex Germaniae’ was the title properly used for Lydia. Calling her an empress was, at a minimum, aligning himself with the forces desiring further autonomy from the Greater Empire.

The only reason why the outcry in the viewers wasn’t larger was how predictable this was. It was such an expected move that John didn’t even think that Romulus would bring it up in polite conversation. Prying Lydia’s realm out of her current arrangement was obviously going to be Fusion’s desire in the European theatre.

“The die is cast, then,” Lydia said, once she reached him.

The monarch wore her resplendent armour of white and gold. The golden cape of manifested sunlight moved in its own breeze. Strimata peeked half a half-centimetre out of its sheathe. The weapon was allowed to sing for as long as its glockenspiel tones elevated the splendour of her appearance. It obliged this by playing a slow-paced version of the Ode to Joy.

“It is indeed,” John answered.

It was impossible to say which one of the two moved faster. In the end, the result was all the same. The unyielding hardness of her chest plate against him was a discomfort he was more than willing to withstand if it meant tasting her cherry red lips. Only the former mundanes whispered at the display of tongue-wrestling affection.

On this one, John did not care what they thought. They would learn quickly enough that this was how things were done in his realm.

The kiss broke, only for John to take a step back and Lydia entangling immediately with Rave. Amusingly, that made the mutterings grow quieter. ‘Cute women kissing is always more popular,’ John thought, entranced by the familiar sight himself. By the time Lydia moved to her kiss with Aclysia, the crowd was back down to the usual levels of chatting as they gawked. “If you would follow me, my lemon?”

Lydia punched him in the shoulder. “Be serious, my love,” she chided him, then began to walk, “do not bother guiding me, I know the path to my second home well enough.”

_________________________________________________________________________

“Magnus Magus, Head of House Magus, First Viceroy of Fusion, Member of the House of Exceptionals and head of the Fateweaver Academy.”

For the most part, Magnus looked like he always did. A serious, middle-aged man with long, dark brown hair that he kept in a low ponytail. Recent events had introduced an additional hardness to his features that looked well on him. He was meeting the new responsibility of being not just the likely but actual successor of his father with stoic determination.

There was a change to his outfit, however. A raptor skull had been attached to the suit as a large shoulder ornament. It was out of place for a man as straight-laced as Magnus, but those who knew of its significance would never question its presence.

It did make hugging the man a little difficult. John patted him on the back once, then exchanged a similar greeting with Nina. The blonde wore a brilliant, blue dress.

“Is that…?” John asked, once he and Magnus started walking.

“It’s a replica,” Magnus clarified, affectionately putting a hand on the shoulder ornament. “We found the original. Originals, I should say. Father and mother kept a dozen or so around as reserves. I did not have the heart to take the lower jaw off any of them.” He shook his head. “They’ll be family heirlooms.”

John respected that to the utmost. “A good symbol for your house.”

“It is,” Magnus agreed with a light, sad smile.

___________________________________________________________________________

“Heavenly Jade Empress Lu Zhi, Holder of the Mandate of Heaven, Chosen of Tianlong, Lady of Beijing, Sovereign of Tradition and Imperial Tomboy,” Undine recited.

John snickered at the last title. It had been her wish that it would be added and John had obliged it as much as he had obliged her adding her own herald and the Dragonspears to the military parade that accompanied every guest landing here. Fire bolts were launched into the sky, then manipulated to fill the sky with a serpentine dragon made of green flames.

Though she took long strides, it took Lu Zhi a moment to reach him, short as she was. Behind her walked Xi Pang, the prime minister having lost some weight since last John saw him. For all the misgivings John had about the blatant corruption the man engaged in, he was dedicated to keeping the empire together. Whether this was out of loyalty or just so he could skim more off the top.

“Hi,” Lu Zhi purred and suddenly launched a hug at John. He reciprocated it on instinct, then felt teased when it only lasted a second. A tactical wink underlined the point being made: she was pouring new oil on the rumour machine. “We look forward to seeing your most resplendent wedding.”

“I hope it lives up to your expectations,” John responded, a bit too friendly for pure diplomacy.

They lowkey flirted the entire way to the Palace.