“You got what you needed?” Jeska asked when John and Metra emerged back into the mundane realm. Less than an hour had passed in total and the black of night would have been complete even without Nightingale’s magic. Then again, starlight would have interrupted the darkness in this far-off Norwegian fjord. Inside this barrier, only the moon-like shine of the harpy’s skin served as a contrast to the black of her magic and feathers.

John nodded. “Thank you again for letting me do this.”

“Just don’t go around bragging about it. Leadership sometimes gets really paranoid and we don’t want that,” Jeska stated and raised her hand in a guiding wave. “Let’s go back. Nightingale is probably getting tired.”

“Are you though?” Metra asked, while they walked back up the rocky path, following after the valkyrie. The darkness started to swallow her form after only a couple of metres. Not a problem for John, who wanted to stick close to Nightingale instead.

“The difficulty of sealing a target’s senses is, naturally, connected to their acuteness.” Nightingale’s explanation was a pleasure to listen to. Compared to Undine’s voice, which was like the singing of glass, hers was more like the carefree tweeting of a brilliant bird. Fancy metaphors put aside, that meant that her voice was deeper and more ‘common’. It was her tone, steady, unwavering and smooth, that transformed it into a work of art. There was no crack or unwanted pause in even a single syllable. “Your senses are far above the norm, John, and it is truly an effort to maintain this veil.”

“It is an incredible ability regardless,” John complimented. “ I would love to hear more about what you can do. Unless you want to keep it a secret.”

“I see no reason to,” the goddess of night said with a smile that revealed the pearly white teeth behind her black lips. “I am a goddess of knowledge, speaking broadly, and thus my abilities deal primarily with information. In my particular case, it is obfuscation, as you are witnessing. I shroud that which I want to protect or isolate.”

“Like invisibility?” John asked.

“No, my particular magic doesn’t provide translucency. I confuse the senses and prevent signals from leaving my grasp. I do not make people unnoticeable; I rob the ability to notice.”

“So aggressive illusion magic,” he summarized it in another way.

“That would be correct enough,” Nightingale confirmed. “Understandably, as a goddess, I am not without means to hurt, I should add.” The rattling of chains suddenly echoed in the night. A rhythmic sound, far less aggressive than the grinding of links from Fenrir’s prison.

John turned his head to try and spot the source of it in the darkness. He saw deep purple links, waving in the edge of his vision. After two seconds, they disintegrated into nothing. “I have a similar spell,” he remarked.

“In the end, all magic operates on the same basics,” Nightingale responded, entirely unsurprised. “However, sometimes people appear that break past the boundaries and achieve the impossible.” Her eyes, as purple as the chains that had vanished, focused on him.

“I suppose such people exist,” he responded with a grin.

_______________________________________________________________________

John could not believe that he would ever find bird legs attractive, but there he was, staring at Nightingale as she crossed hers. To be fair to himself, the attractive part wasn’t that digitrade lower part, but the human thighs, particularly the one that ended up on top and juicily spread out as its grabbable thickness came to a rest.

As much as he liked what he saw, the person sitting next to him had the advantage of not only being attractive, but being someone who he was in love with. Metra, in an extremely good mood, tapped the floor of the private jet with her heels. Her head was resting against the back of her seat, her right hand was holding John’s and the other drummed a supporting melody on the armrest. It was out of tact, Metra had little experience or care for music.

“You just can’t wait, can you?” John whispered in her ear.

“I can – but only barely.” The First of Wrath’s voice, usually so brash, was pleasingly sensual at the restricted volume. “I think it’s pretty disciplined of me to keep myself weak until we make it home.”

“It’s always admirable to keep one’s promises,” the Gamer agreed and gently kissed her ear. “How would I reward you? The usual way?”

Metra tilted her head away from him, exposing the smooth skin of her neck. Gently, John’s lips caressed that particular spot. “Maybe I would prefer something more violent?” she suggested. “Ya know how much I love a good battle.”

“I suppose we do have Sunday off… might as well do a little grinding while we’re at it,” John conceded. “Want me to guess what you want to do after we get home? Besides repairing yourself?”

The blonde berserker babe shuddered, as John found a particularly sensitive area on her slender neck. “Hit me, Master,” she sighed. Her hand found his thigh and firmly grabbed the muscle, only a couple of centimetres away from his dick.

“I think you’ll want to tease me but not actually fuck me until you’ve hit your peak again.” He didn’t need to check her mind or her expression to know he was spot on. Instead, he kissed his way down to her shoulder. One of his arms was slung around her, unashamedly kneading one of her petite boobs. Even at that relatively small size, the softness was the bait that men fell for without remorse. John was no different and he didn’t care to be. There was a lot of happiness to be found in being simple.

Metra chuckled, while his hand slid into her top. Beyond the squishiness of her chest, the hardness of her nipple was enticing. Especially because it coerced a small moan from her. “Being mad gives me life,” she said, “and post battle sex is the fucking best.”

“Hmm, so fighting and fucking, the usual rewards,” John summarized.

“Maybe you could take me out for a date too,” the First of Wrath suggested. “A little bit of an adventure, just the two of us.”

“An adventure or an Adventure?” John asked, his tone indicating the difference.

“Monarch’s choice,” Metra hummed.

“Monarch?” Nightingale asked. Hearing her speak up after she observed all of the fondling and half undressing was a bit unexpected. “I was informed that Fusion operates under a presidential republican system.”

John was hasty to confirm, “That’s correct.” After a strong nod, his gaze returned to Metra. The First of Wrath continued to grin, even after John flicked his index finger against her forehead. “My beloved Metra disagrees that it’s the best form of state.”

“And I’ll continue to do so now that I’ve read all the counterarguments you presented to me,” the blonde berserker babe stated in a carefree tone. “All of them require that the empire is surrounded by actors that can be reasoned with. We’ll see how well dissolved power serves you when an uncivilized horde bangs on your walls.”

“A republic can only be established from a point of strength, yes,” John agreed. “However, from that point of strength forwards, any system that can address its internal problems through various public mechanisms, making ignoring them near impossible for the ruling class, is more stable and, more importantly, more able to take advantage of the talent of its population.”

“It’s more stable in the mundane world, maybe,” Metra pushed back. “This is the Abyss. If you, with your wisdom, concentrate power in yourself that makes for way better governance.”

“For all my various superhuman traits, I am still just a man at the end of the day. I’m flawed like everyone else.”

“Right, so why leave the hands to some charismatic moron that got a smile nice enough to be elected instead of you, if you’re both flawed anyway?”

“Because the charismatic moron might actually have something worthwhile to say.”

“You’d be smart enough to listen if he does.”

“What if I’m not?”

“What if he doesn’t have anything worthwhile to say after all?”

John let out a long sigh. They would never settle this discussion because the root of it was a difference in moral foundations. Broadly speaking, he was more concerned with liberty and Metra was more concerned about cohesiveness. “I’m happy that you took the reading to heart, at least.”

“Not like I had a lot else to do,” the First of Wrath hummed. “Are you raising my Stats before or after I eat the claw?”

“I’d say after – unless you don’t want to feel that power boost actively?” The Gamer knew it was a rhetorical question.

Letting her grin and a kiss be the answer, Metra stayed nuzzled against him. Across the aisle, Nightingale chuckled in her harmonious tone. “Do such conversations occur regularly in your harem, John?”

“These and loads of sass that I never deserve,” John joked.

“Oh, yeah, you never deserve anything that’s coming your way.” Metra’s sarcastic tone was compromised by her tomboyish cheerfulness. “Nerds like you never do anything wrong.”

Deciding that ignoring the sarcasm was the best strategy to counter it, John replied with a simple, “Glad that we agree.”

A lull in their conversation followed. The kind of silence that was usual, even among the greatest of friends or lovers. All involved parties had simply said all they wanted about what had just been discussed and now they were either waiting for another topic to come about or, as was quite common among especially good friends, just fine with the silence between them.

John looked out of the window. Between the clouds, only strips of the greenery of Europe were visible. They had left Norway far behind at this point and were gradually making their way over the north of Germany, with its forests and relatively flat landscape. Quickly that would be replaced by the hills and mountains that lead up to the Alps and the Carpathians.

Humming, Metra seemed to have forgotten her excitement and impatience for the moment. “Feels odd to think about the future,” she said suddenly.

“Why’s that?” the Gamer asked.

“Because I didn’t have a lot of use considering what comes next in the past,” the blonde told him. “Ya know, between needing other people to stay active and having so many different bodies and tasks through the ages, considering the future wasn’t a high concern. My personal stakes were pretty low, the few times I found a potential king candidate put aside. With you that’s different.”

As she spoke, Metra pulled up the armrest between them, allowing her to lay down sideways and place her head in John’s lap. “Am I that special?” he hummed with a huge smile.

“Special enough to bother,” Metra returned with a romantic undertone in her voice. “You’ll survive and you can give me things that nobody else can. There’s more to a future with you than my oath. It’s really nice and really weird.”

Gently playing with her wild hair, the Gamer only made an acknowledging sound. He had nothing worthwhile to add, only jokes or more banter that didn’t feel appropriate for the occasion. Of all the inadequate actions that he could take, staying silent and lovingly gazing at her tanned face felt the least inadequate.

John loved Metra. Among the girls, she was among the most straightforward. She said what she wanted, her ambitions were clear, her methods were clear, her character was solid, and so there was little about her that surprised the Gamer. Despite that, John didn’t find her boring or predictable. The First of Wrath was who she was unapologetically. With all of her excess brutality, her controlled anger, her lust for combat, her snide remarks, her worry for the other haremettes, her attempts at teaching, her frustrations, and her ceaseless will to keep going forwards, she was his.

There was no greater pleasure in life than knowing that someone like Metra loved him. Someone like her, so easily understandable and yet so fascinating to talk to, so gorgeous and wild, she could have had anyone in the world. Even knowing who John was, and that he would have let her go like he had done with Momo if she ever demanded it, she stayed with him.

Their minds were mingling, exchanging loving sparks of emotions that reinforced what their eyes already expressed.

“Your relationship is enviable.” Not even Nightingale’s voice, resonating as it was with something that could be understood as honest envy, managed to make John raise his eyes right now. “Your love goes far deeper than a ‘harem’ led me to believe.”

“I’ve lost interest in surrounding myself with women I find merely attractive a while ago,” John replied.

“This guy has much higher standards,” Metra mockingly continued before he could and booped her Master on the nose. “He’ll need the woman to be interesting, gorgeous and mindlessly in love with him.”

“Not mindlessly,” John softly protested. “Demands should be made of me. I’m only as good as you challenge me to be.”

Metra’s lips spread until she showed her teeth in an almost creepy way. “So, if I keep challenging you to become king, it will become true?”

“I’m already the king of your heart, that’s enough for me.”

“My cold, steel heart?”

“Be careful, you’re setting me up for a horribly corny line.”

“Fuck me if something else ever comes out of your mouth. Let’s hear it.”

“Your heart hasn’t been cold since I melted it.”

“By Mother Ch- By Fusion, that is beyond acceptable.” Metra summoned a spec of her anger and went on a little, entertaining rant. “Can’t you at least impregnate someone before you go around ripping such horrible dad jokes? Had I known that level of fucking awful was awaiting me, I would have said nothing!” She took a small break, and then asked, “Are you some kind of frustration vampire? Because it looks like my wrath is giving you life!”

“Because it is.” John grinned.