John was standing at the crossroads and it was all to do with the purple pouch of velvet that lay on the table. The Court Dust was contained within sewn shut fae flower petals, waiting to be freed and sucked up soone’s nostrils. A complicated mix of emotions filled John as he looked at it. He rembered the sheer amount of fun he had when he had taken the drug before. He didn’t quite rember what order the events had been in. Not that that was a requirent for having a good ti.
What he also rembered, in more detail than he wanted, was what followed the Assault itself. The hours during which he had annoyed his harettes to the point that they did not like him were a bit hazy, the splitting headache that followed, the constant vomiting, and the inability to find proper rest were all pretty clear. That he had pissed himself, at least once, also was still pretty clear in his mind. He instinctively wanted to suppress that mory and he made sure to drag it back up. That was the kind of shaful result he absolutely needed to keep at the forefront of his mind.
He had made an absolute clown out of himself, annoyed those he cared the most for, and in return had gotten 75 levels. Terribly, that could be considered worth it. What were a few hours of shaful behaviour and a few days of recuperation compared to getting more levels in one sitting than he otherwise got in several months?
It was the morning of day 15 of the grinding session. If he was going to take it, now was the ti. He would spend 2-3 days in an Assault (probably 2, because that was the lowball of Court Dust’s duration), and then up to 4 days were required to fully recover from the side effects. After 2, he would be recovered enough that he could head back out and just avoid anything too public for a bit.
John massaged his temples and considered things carefully.
“What speaks against using this besides that I really, really don’t want to?” the Gar asked. It was a question for the entire room. There were very few harettes (Scarlett, really) that did not object to the use of Court Dust at so level.
“Isn’t that good enough?” Nathalia checked her nails, as if they were any less perfectly trimd today than the last thousand tis she had checked.
John shook his head. “I have the luxury of becoming stronger with relative ease, but I don’t have literal divine power, Nathalia. I need to make sacrifices… but you do understand, right?”
The redhead averted her gaze and nodded. John had the feeling sothing was going through her head that he didn’t like. Reminiscing about the ease of promiscuous sex, or sothing like that. He wouldn’t fault her for thinking about it. It’s not like there wasn’t lingering regret in his heart for skipping out on Tempesta either.
“Okay, tiger, I get that ya love the efficiency and stuff,” Rave weighed in, “but for real: do ya need this?”
“Levels are a non-depreciating asset,” Scarlett stated. “There’s no drawback to John getting as many of them as possible. Okay,” she corrected herself when annoyed glances ca her way, “there’s potential drawbacks in the acquisition thod. Fucking relax, girls, it is just a few days.”
“As far as sacrifices go, this is definitely in the more manageable category,” John backed up the technomancer.
“Okay, but for what?” Rave challenged. “What do ya need the quick power for?”
“I don’t know,” the Gar gave the real answer. “That’s the scary part, Jane: I have no idea what happens next. There might be another Latebloor like Sigmund that has an ability that grows even quicker than mine. Maybe the Lorylim kick into gear again. Maybe so ancient threat awakens in the depth of Tibet and takes over the entirety of Asia. For that matter, we still have no idea who or what cut open the World Turtle.” He leaned back on the couch and groaned. “There’s a point at which we’re so powerful that I can stop worrying about all of that – for the most part – because we’d have the combined power of the next three great powers combined. That…” he gestured towards the pouch, “…would get us a large step towards that.”
“But do ya need to hurry towards it?” Rave asked,
“Sa answer, Jane.” Her boyfriend rubbed his forehead.
“John, look around you.” It was Undine that ordered him to do so and John did. He lowered his gaze from the ceiling and let it wander from one gorgeous face to the next. His harem, his gathering of the world’s most adorable, smart, and wonderful won. “We are the strongest group of our size on the globe already.”
That was not entirely certain. It was more likely than not. To have complete certainty, he would need access to more intel.
“There is no sha in preparing thoroughly,” Undine continued. “It is laudable. We all know that. But do you need to torture yourself this ti around? With all the other assurances you have?”
John had no certain answer to that. He stood between fears that were both paranoid and well founded. He had many enemies. He had many that would be his enemies. The eting of the Divided Gates may require him to put his best foot forwards, so to say. To lack strength at that ti could be disastrous. There were all of these good, objective reasons for using it. Usually, when John had good, objective reasons for sothing and none against, he ignored his subjective preferences.
Then, suddenly, Gno grabbed the pouch. “Put it away, umu!” she decided. Her expression was stern and completely serious. Not a single bit of red dusted her cheeks. Her brown eyes were as solid as the stones she carved. “We don’t need this today, okay? We’re strong. We don’t need desperate asures in good tis.”
John looked at the leader of the elentals for a few more monts, then he took the pouch from her and placed it in his inventory. “Can’t deny you when you step up, can I?” he told her.
Gno blinked slowly. Tossing her head left to right, she realized that she was not only the centre of attention, she was the only person around even standing. A few of the harettes, newcors especially, were wide-eyed at the assertive display of the timid season elental. “Uwu…” she mumbled and took the closest seat, “…uwuwuwuwuwu…” her cute vocalizations only grew more frequent when she realized she had just plopped down in John’s lap, “…uwuwuwuwuwu…”
‘Blessed, blessed Gno noises,’ the Gar thought and cuddled the rock.
“Alright, so what do you do now?” Scarlett’s question pulled him back out of the cuddle trance.
“I guess we use the remaining days to get another one of the second bosses,” the Gar responded. “Five days should be enough to clear the next path and kill the boss, with so ti to spare.
____________________________________________________________________________
The fighters moved out; John continued to commit the Mandala Sphere to the fray. The advantage of free hovering was just too good to pass up on when he was supposed to be the backline coordinator. The Creator Puppet continued to join general fighting exercises. Today, he was focused on surviving.
John watched the ridges of the new-born volcano rise in the far-off distance. The glass in the window fras rattled quietly. A tremble just intense enough to notice, despite the several kilotres between them. Getting pincered by Nathalia and Eliana was an untenable situation, which made it a valuable tactical exercise. Always keeping their exercises to 1vs1 engagents, fair ones at that, was bound to dull their edges.
The Gar stepped away from the window and wondered what to do now. He had cleared a bunch of Class Challenges between gaming sessions, so he had the free selection for when he got the next Level Up – which was a matter of hours. Really, he just needed to have sex towards that goal. Since he was already ahead of schedule on that front, he was spending ti in another manner.
‘Who to visit…’ John thought. Delicia was still doing Delicia things, the sa could be said for Lee, so that really only left Hailey, Scarlett, and Lorelei. He had been in a lot of contact with the seer lately. ‘I reckon it’ll work best if I give her so reprise for a few days,’ he thought. ‘Let the passive desperation build a bit… which actually is a really good argunt for seeing her right now. It’s not like I have to tease her.’
John nodded to himself and went to find the seer. Of the harettes, she was one of those that always occupied a certain spot in the houses they temporarily stayed at. Up the nearest staircase and then up further through the folded ladder that connected to the attic, he found Lorelei bowed over a couple of books. All of them had pages that bore the marks of constant contact – the kind of fingerprints that could only be prevented by wearing clean gloves.
Lorelei touched the gold-trimd paper with great care, making sure that the paper did not wrinkle in the slightest. Only a notebook by her side did not receive that treatnt. It was marked with enough sticky notes that John felt it was almost useless, like highlighting 80% of a page. He wouldn’t have dared to suggest he knew better than Lorelei how to keep track of her scripture, however.
“Honoured Gar, how may I help?” Lorelei asked.
John made a sour expression and climbed the rest of the way up to the attic. There was no additional light in the room, neither was there any furniture. There was only one circular window, in whose beam the seer sat with her books. The light made no difference to her reading, but she had told him before that she liked the sensation of sun and moon on her skin. John could relate. To those with no light in their eyes, that on their skin felt more important than ever.
“I still don’t like it when you call that,” he reminded her.
Pulling her shoulders back, Lorelei apologized, “I am sorry, John… If I may remind, it is difficult to overco old habits.”
“You may,” John teased her. He approached carefully and stayed at a respectful distance from the books. The scripture of the Order of the Golden Rose was of obvious import to the seer. Personally, John found it alright. It was more engaging than the Bible, if only because John could be more certain that the events described had occurred in a less embellished form. The moral virtues were by and large similar, albeit the codex of the Order put a much greater emphasis on proactive engagents. Gone was ‘turn the other cheek’ and in ca ‘suffer not the warlock to live’. “That particular habit, I would like you to overco though.”
Lorelei put a bookmark into the golden book and slowly closed it. The leather binding was newer than the pages within. John would know, he had commissioned the replacent. An overhaul of the Orders library was one of the many lesser agreents he had struck with William. It doubled as a chance for him to scan through the scripture and make sure they weren’t sneaking anything into the churches that he wouldn’t approve of.
“The difficulty cos from a difference in our viewpoints,” Lorelei said, diligently folding her hands on her thighs. “To , you are John, beloved when it cos to my future, the man I swear my personal duty to, Master when it cos to my sexuality, and Honoured Gar, chosen of the Lady. They are equal in my mind.”
“Your beloved, the one you swear to follow, your Master, all of those I have earned – I just am the Gar,” John reminded her of his viewpoint. “What I am given has so much less value.”
Lorelei shifted where she sat. “You know I disagree, John. Every gift and every burden given by the Lady is an opportunity to prove yourself. Opportunities are as precious as their results. Is the life you’ve been given worthless for you not having decided to begin it?”
“Not worthless, no, but I’d struggle to say that it’d be worth more than a life that I would have earned. Not that you can earn starting your existence.” He gazed out the window. “Unless we all do and forget. Wouldn’t that be a twist?”
“The Lady gives life. Nothing could be more precious.” Lorelei took a short pause and gently shook her head. “We will never and this difference. I apologize, John. I will continue to try to change this, for the sake of your comfort.”
“That’s all I can ask.”
“May I ask what you ca here to do?” Lorelei asked, changing the topic.
“Just wanted to check on you.” He inched a little closer and kissed her on the cheek. Lorelei suddenly jolted up. “What’s the matter?”
“I foresee… I… huh?” Lorelei sounded genuinely confused. She put a hand on her forehead and fell silent.
“Did the vision fade too quickly?” John asked.
“No, it is… confusing… I see a torrent of colours with gold and purple dominant. It should be your aura, but it extends in all directions, wrapped around a shadow that opens a door?”
“That sounds vaguely concerning.”
“I… do not know, honour...ed John.” She shook her head. “If I sense more on this, I shall tell you.” A bright smile preceded a kiss on his own cheek. “Thank you for the attention. May I ask that you leave to my studies? I have been neglecting my worship recently.”
“Of course,” John backed away. To be sent away by one of his harettes irked a part deep inside him. That bit that insisted he truly was the only thing in their life that mattered. A part he wisely kept under control, even if he acknowledged it.
He climbed back down the ladder and left it as it was. Then he headed over to where Scarlett had built up her battle station.
When one imagined technomancers in popular fiction, it was often a person in a dark room, lit only by the lights of the several screens that were connected to a particularly bulky unit of a computer. If John was to build himself a station to synergize with his current level of technomancy, he would do it similarly. His Skill allowed him to utilize devices as they were with his mind.
Scarlett had transcended the restrictions of hardware. At her level, her mind could serve as a direct extension of the hardware capacity. The only thing she could not forcefully widen was bandwidth, mostly the internet kind. Consequently, Scarlett’s work station in the barriers was neither large nor impressive. Really, it was a fairly unimpressive laptop. All that mattered was that the LAN-port was of the highest standard there was and that the sa went for the wires.
“How is my economy doing?” he asked.
“It’s a free market economy, it’s doing as well as it can at any given ti.” Scarlett took a deep huff of her cigarette. She had the decency to exhale in the direction of the open window next to her. If only because there were a bunch of spiders sitting on the walls around her. One broken rule of Aclysia’s house etiquette and they would skitter back to Claire.
“So there’s a bunch of issues?”
“There’s always issues. A market system is a problem-solving chanism, not a prevention one,” Scarlett grumbled into her cigarette. “Unless you want to listen to every failed state ever.”
“I wasn’t going to start another debate on economics where we 90% agree and then we have to discuss whether worker’s rights are sothing that should exist,” John joked. “Just wondering if anything changed in the last 2 days, real ti wise.”
“Another shell company of the Purest Front tried to buy up all your arcane tals,” she responded casually.
John furrowed his eyebrows. This was a common occurrence since the Guild Hall had first started bringing its wares to the international market. In the Abyss, issuing an embargo was much easier than in the modern world. There were no international trade regulations. If John didn’t want to sell to any particular buyer, be it private or nation, he could just say no – he had blacklisted the entire state of literal nazis imdiately.
It would have been nice if it had ended there, but the Purest Front had an evident hunger for resources, particularly those related to life and arcane magic. Quite the interesting revelation, since those were the two aspects of the common categorization of magics that their country of origin did not specialize in. Just another reason why the break between old German nobility and the Purest Front was that harsh.
Since they were that eager to get the resources, the Purest Front and Fusion were currently engaged in a ga of economic whack-a-mole. They would use third parties and shell companies to make the purchases and Fusion would either attempt to catch those events in advance or blacklist those they learned had violated the term agreents later.
The more influential Fusion got, the less people wanted to get blacklisted. John had received more than one letter from traders pleading to get off the blacklist after they had violated the agreent early on. They thought Fusion was a passing thing and the quick cash from the Purest Front would be more worthwhile. ‘You gambled and lost’ was John’s standard response. When it ca to exports, Fusion already outstripped the Purest Front.
Sadly, they were crafty and had the resources to play this ga indefinitely and win sotis. There were only so many probes that could be launched without stifling trade as a whole.
“Did you prevent them?” John asked.
“I bid higher when I found out. I expect the delivery to be cancelled with an apology reimbursent.”
“That’s fair.” John let out a deep sigh and let Beatrice know to make the arrangents later. “No lecture on ‘you should just sell to whoever pays the highest’?”
“They’re fucking national socialists, John – No, I don’t want them to have access to research materials. The sooner we crush them out of the world the better.”
“Always happy to know you still have so morality,” he teased her.
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