Collide Gamer

Nahoa was taking the train.

The line travelled down the side of the Danube, connecting a couple of towns with inhabitants in the upper hundreds to the lower thousands. As could be expected for a line like that, it only ran every couple of hours, only during the day, and the train cart was quite small. That being said, Nahoa enjoyed sitting in it.

She didn’t bother putting on much of a disguise. White hair was unusual to the mundanes, but not inexplicable. Similarly, though her teeth were sharp for a human, they were not absurdly so. The only thing she did hide were the markings on her face and the inhuman shape and additions to her ears. The former was just to avoid questions, the latter two were a concession to Gaia’s rule.

Nahoa had felt the gaze of the men as she had travelled. They were short-lived and largely respectful, simple glances from simple minds. Now, in this train, she was the subject of no interest at all. She sat alone in a row, shared the cart with four others, and tapped away on her phone. Emergency plans had been laid to reinforce her, if their enemies proved beyond capable.

For her part, Nahoa was looking forward to proving her value in the field.

Being a maid had become a rhythm. Stepping back from her own thoughts, she knew that she was doing good by the household. When it came to cooking, cleaning and ordering the household, Aclysia let her operate without supervision. On the diplomatic front, she was using her Master as much as she was being used. Her ambitions were a distraction for Krieg and she was fine with that. She would get what she wanted all the same.

Still, being inside her own mind, she did not quite feel like she was pulling her own weight. The work as a maid was simply what she did, so could she really claim that she deserved a reward for it? Did she not owe plenty to John and Fusion for all they had done for the Mexica?

The uncertainty was unresolvable. She knew that. It was just part of being human.

The train came to a halt. Nahoa disembarked, alone. No one was close enough for her to make a connection through the mental network. There was only herself and the mission.

She walked through empty streets. Lights in windows proved that the aesthetic little town was alive and that nobody else wanted to be outside at these temperatures. That, Nahoa fully understood. Even with her borderline immortal body, she buried her chin in the tall collar of her winter jacket. Negative temperatures did not agree with her. She had spent most of her life in jungles and shrublands. Yes, she had been to the mountains a couple of times, so she knew snow and negative temperatures, but such stays had been mercifully short.

Hopefully, this would be no different. She liked Maximillian well enough, but his country was altogether too high up and too cold for her liking. She couldn’t wait for John’s Guild Hall to be moved to California either.

The stone streets made for pleasant walking, as did the asphalted road they led to. The material was sun-bleached, yet barely diminished by the passage of time. According to Scarlett’s briefing, the road was essentially only used by cycling tourists and, occasionally, farmers. Wear and tear was kept to a minimum.

Nahoa stepped off the road and straight onto a trail reinforced by compacted sand and stone. It was not maintained in the slightest and only regular use kept it from being devoured again by the surrounding shrubs and trees. The latter were trying despite regular usage, thick roots breaking up the narrow path. There was no railing, just an ever-increasing drop to her right as she climbed up the walkway.

At the end of the path stood a castle – a small one that she doubted had ever been used for more than keeping a lookout over the river below. It simply stood there, a small infographic on a stick next to the entrance and a donation box for maintenance behind it. It was a relic of another time, a cobblestone structure of a whole different civilization – from Nahoa’s perspective.

She had a passing interest in the west, because the mundanes had somehow managed to turn the art of boiling water into a way to create electricity outside of magic. Even months later, the idea of circuitry was still wild to Nahoa.

Paying attention to the mundanes who had managed to do all of this was only healthy.

‘Now to take care of the people who are currently forsaking that culture,’ the demigoddess thought. She stepped into an ancient tower, took off her jacket and other extra layers of clothing, and put them into her inventory. Left in a simple tank top and yoga pants, she was ready to face whatever she was going to find.

She raised her hand and entered the Illusion Barrier.

Immediately, the silence of the winter land was replaced with the boisterous laughter of brawlers.

Nahoa stepped out into the small yard behind the castle’s long removed gates. The gathered fighters had scattered out, taking up the empty doorways atop divides once bridged by wooden scaffolds. Six men, three women, most of them of native Austrian and a couple of immigrant descent. All had the air of violence around them, held back by a thin code of conduct.

“That’s a new face,” one man remarked when they noticed Nahoa. “Who told her about this place?”

“It’s, like, soooooo rude to speak about me like I’m not here,” she complained in her best ditzy tone. It immediately summoned a mixture of disarmed smiles and confused gazes. “None of you told me where I’d find this. Like, if I told you who told me, you wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

“Who did it then, bleached bimbo?”

“That’s a seeeeeecret.” Nahoa winked, then tilted her head slightly, tapping her chin as she pretended she only had two brain cells to rub together. “But, like, I can tell you who sent me, if you wanna know about that?”

“Sure, spit it out already.”

Nahoa’s expression shifted into a malicious smile. “Maximillian Franz the Fourth von Habsburg, King of the Archduchy of Austria with the Greater Empire.” The sudden shift in her displayed character had the disarmed and confused tense up in equal measure. Nahoa couldn’t lie. She lived for these little shock moments. “I am Nahoa-xoco-atl-xolotl,” she introduced herself. “For the ease of your tongues, you may simply refer to me as a Nahoa – that’s pronounced Na-who-a, if you, like, needed that little pointer or something.”

“You stop talking in that bimbo tone right now, you duplicitous cunt,” one of the women hissed. “You sound like a pick-me girl.”

“I have no need to be picked, I already serve a better man than any of you ever will,” Nahoa purred back.

“That royal fellow you mentioned?” one of the men asked.

“No, my loyalty is to John Newman, who supports Maximillian,” she explained. “Which you would, like, be so aware of if you weren’t soooo ignorant about anything going on around you. Like, how stupid can you get?”

The man pulled his lips back into an ugly scowl and leapt off the first floor of the castle structure. He landed fluidly in front of her. Bent forwards, he tried to intimidate her with his height. “Name’s Axel,” he introduced himself. An interesting name for an uninteresting person. He was a less attractive version of her Master, brown-haired, tall, a face shaped like nothing special, but he did have rage simmering in his soul that broke to the surface quite clearly. “I’m the leader of this ring. What can I do for a bitch of the establishment?”

Nahoa put a finger on his forehead and pushed him back. To give the man credit where it was due, he let her put distance between her nose and his bad breath. ‘Not totally hopeless,’ she thought, then continued in a more agreeable tone, “Simply put, I am here to fight you,” she reported. “The king of these lands hopes that you may cease your rebellious activities after you are given a good scrap.”

“Not a bad plan,” Axel agreed. “Alright then… since you are so insistent!”

The punch was clearly telegraphed, allowing Nahoa to duck under it effortlessly. She returned the favour by putting her hand flat on the man’s stomach, shoving him back when she could have sunk her knuckles into his midriff.

She pushed with a decent amount of power behind it, yet only moved Axel one step backwards. He caught himself immediately, his body moving with experience. The heel that stopped his stumble immediately accelerated him forwards again.

Nahoa tilted back, her chin narrowly escaping the uppercut. A sideway swing of the other arm immediately followed, transitioning into a spin kick that caught Nahoa’s side. The pain from the impact was nothing, but the humiliation of actually having been caught made her hiss in annoyance.

Reacting swiftly, she grabbed the man’s ankle. His rapid combo of attacks had left him in a poor state of balance, incapable of counteracting her whirling him around and slamming him into a nearby wall. The stone and ancient mortar withstood the impact, leaving Axel to bend around the corner.

Wheezing, his upper body dangled. His arms bent, his hands met the ground above his shoulders. A full body effort supported the kick aimed at Nahoa’s wrist. Her body could take the punishment just fine, but her grip strength yielded to the impact. Her hand was forced to open, releasing Axel’s leg.

He curled up and executed a swift somersault, getting out of Nahoa’s immediate range. Advancing slowly, she aimed to bridge that gap. She was met by readily raised fists, jabbing at her with speedy strikes while Axel retreated. Nahoa deflected the individual blows, trying to get close enough to attack herself. Her short stature limited her immensely in this.

The layout of the castle was of little help either. Axel dropped down into some kind of sand pit, whose purpose eluded Nahoa completely. He kept backing off until he had to hop up the chest-high wall that boxed it all in. He remained seated where his butt landed on the stone. The other members of the fighting circle followed them, looking with interest as their local leader kept Nahoa at bay with his feet.

“Not going to get any closer?” Axel mocked, kicking his shoes off to reveal sweat-soaked socks.

“If you knew who I was, you’d feel soooooo stupid for trying to get into a, like, bio-weapon arms race with me,” Nahoa teased, but remained out of range. She had no idea what his Innate Ability was, so she was remaining cautious.

“I was just about to ask if you have tricks up your sleeve, because, I gotta be honest, woman, you kind of suck at CQC.”

Nahoa pulled her shoulders back and glared. She had been fighting at full Strength, which was impressive enough at 250. That Axel could match it and her speed put him, at a minimum, around level 100. Raw power was not being talked about, however. “Any pointers?” she asked.

“You’re way too aggressive for a woman your size in hand to hand combat. I get that the Abyss bridges the biological gap and all that, but you are still like 90% hips and I am like 51% shoulders.” Axel patted the upper segment of his left arm. “Try to get me to the ground and use your lower centre of gravity to choke me out with your thighs or something.”

“Are you trying to get between my legs?” Nahoa drawled.

“Have you looked in a mirror recently? What, you taken?”

“Yes.”

“Ah… shame.” Axel immediately dropped the flirtatious smile. “What if I beat him up?”

Nahoa snorted in amusement at the suggestion, then hummed to herself. Since her opponent was capable enough to stand up to her, perhaps…

“If you want to be turned into a humiliated husk, I can call him.”

The suggestion went against her little feeling of inadequacy, but she wouldn’t let that uncertainty come between her and the desired outcome. Axel was the better melee fighter and she got the feeling that using diseases against them wouldn’t do much in the way of gaining their respect.

“By all means,” Axel invited.

Nahoa opened up the Harem Comms, fished her Master’s name out of the list, and quickly typed out an invitation. Not even two minutes later, the Creator Puppet entered.

Watching her Master take in any situation was oddly arousing. Hazel eyes moved rapidly, snapping from one point of interest to the next over the course of a second. People, lay of the land, even loose pebbles that could be used as projectiles were immediately registered by his strategic mind. All of that was a display of brilliance that was attractive on its own. The arousing part came when he spotted her.

For all the attention he paid to the world around them, he paid thrice as much to her. When he looked at her, he explored every bit of her despite having mapped it all out before with eyes, fingers and tongue. For that brief moment in time, she was his world and that was deeply enticing.

Nahoa walked on over, attaching herself to his side with well-studied certainty. Aclysia insisted that every maid knew exactly how to curve her body against their Master and Nahoa wholeheartedly agreed. On her toes, arms around his neck for balance, breasts and thighs rubbing up against him, she turned herself into a tactile experience for his pleasure. He immediately reacted, grasping the swell of her hips. Fingers pressed into her plush derriere as their lips found one another.

Having not known lust for most of her life was a sacrifice she would have made willingly, to let it all be known in these moments with him.

“You can smooch later!” Axel shouted. “Come on, I want a fight!”

“Well, I don’t think it will be much of one,” John responded. The certainty in his voice did things to her that Nahoa would not be ashamed to speak aloud.

‘Privileges of marrying the future Apex of the world,’ she thought. “Master,” she said, all whiny and cutesy, “I couldn’t beat him, can you clean him up for me?” She batted her eyelids alluringly.

“Only because you’re cute,” he responded.

“Master, ey?” Axel asked, while her beloved emperor stepped forward. “Interesting relationship you have. Guess that makes you John Newman?”

“Correct… We can talk more in a moment.” John put his fists up. “Let’s do this.”

Axel mimicked the stance. The two men inched towards each other. They were of similar size and build, though John was a bit taller and broader. Once the two men were within striking range, they immediately went for it.

They both tried to get the first punch in. Axel swung with such speed that Nahoa almost had difficulty following it. ‘Did he hold back before?’ she wondered.

The answer to the question didn’t matter. John went through with his own strike. He was faster, he was stronger, he sent Axel flying onto his back. The punch the man had thrown never connected, leaving her Master standing over the leader of the local group of fighters, who held the side of his ribcage. The fight was over in just one interaction.

“Didn’t even flinch, that’s guts,” Axel admitted. “Fuck, what are your fists made out of, pure metal?”

“Sort of,” John responded.

Nahoa tip-toed closer, then suddenly jumped. John caught her without even thinking about it, her bubble butt resting on his strong hand. “If you want to…” she whispered.

“I think you want to,” he whispered back in a permissive tone.

He was entirely right. Nahoa was already reaching for his waistband, undoing the zipper swiftly. Once his cock was exposed, she simply tore a hole into the front of her yoga pants for easy access. In front of the gathered fighters, she was impaled on her Master’s manhood. The heat pushing into her was raw bliss materialized. The way he held her by her round derriere was a possessive heaven.

Nahoa moaned, a malicious smirk on her lips. She could not lie, she did quite enjoy being her Master’s cocksleeve in a situation like this. It awed those around them, as it ought to, to see a demigoddess get fucked by the greatest man in the world. Voice laden with pleasure, she addressed Axel again, “How about we talk business now?”

“Not much to discuss,” Axel responded, recovering swiftly. Ultimately, those people in the dungeon were an example for the mindset of the larger organization. These people were no strangers to public orgies. “I know what you want to ask and I don’t have answers for you. I get called to meetings on a two hour notice. I fight the other leaders, some of us see the big guy, if he is a guy.”

“You never saw him?” John asked.

“I think I saw him or her or them,” Axel answered, then shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Not exactly what we are looking for,” Nahoa drawled, then gasped when the tip of her Master’s cock poked a particularly sensitive spot. He only did it once. If he had wanted to, he could have had her incapable of getting a single sentence out. “King Maximillian is looking for a way to resolve this.”

“I can bring that up at the next meeting… if I am free to go?” Axel asked.

“We’re not arresting anyone today,” John assured. “You’re more useful to us if you talk to others about our intentions. We really do hope this can be resolved in an agreeable fashion.”

“Alright…” Axel groaned as he got on his feet, “…beating me once won’t convince me to put in a good word for you though. After you finish nutting inside her, we’re going again!”