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The Gamer Chapter 1501 – Divided Gates Meeting 6 – The Fire
🕑 Added 2023-08-21 18:21:09 +0000 UTCJohn snuck out of the bathroom on his own, leaving Undine to clean up the rest. That did include helping Nia and Gnome be less bloated. ‘Man, am I glad that it’s easy to clean up myself,’ the Gamer thought. ‘Being the one that things come out of makes things a lot simpler.’
With that final thought on the lewdness that he had just enacted, John re-entered the party. The lines between factions had further blurred in his near 45 minutes of absence, conversations between members of varying guilds being commonplace all over.
‘Let’s see, I talked to the Great Sultanate, the Mandate of Heaven, the Dangun Clan, and the Odin’s Sons – that leaves the Illuminati, Rex Germaniae, the Sons of Rome, and Prometheus.’ Those were the four guilds that Fusion and John were friendly with, especially the first three. Prometheus and Fusion were more related to each other like Germany and Canada were in current times. Fundamentally, the two countries had little to do with each other, but they shared a vaguely similar set of customs and had a lot of common allies.
John was torn between his options. He had no particular need to speak to Romulus, any conversation he could have with the Emperor had already been had yesterday. The other three, however, all deserved attention. The Illuminati had two other leaders that John wanted good relations with, speaking to Lydia was a priority at all times, and his relationship with Prometheus could use deepening.
‘I should wait to seek out Lydia until the dance floor opens,’ John resolved, then decided to go with Prometheus first. The reason was primarily his curiosity. He wanted to see what kind of person the Supreme Seeker of the Flame was.
Finding him was exceptionally easy. Even among the crowd of Prometheus, full of half-naked Greeks enjoying the warm weather, Eglystas stood out. He was tall, the glistening of his oiled chest reflected the light, and when he stood still his hair extended upwards like a pillar of some kind of white chemical that dissolved in and was lighter than air.
It was far from the first time that John had seen hair like that, but he was reminded of one particular person by that display. Eglystas’ eyes leisurely moved over to John, gold in gold, and looked at him as if there was no way anyone else could have stood there at that moment. Again, the Gamer felt the intensity of the intellect, along with its distance.
“You remind me of Lucifrena.” Five words, carefully chosen, wondering what reaction they would elicit.
The answer was: displeasingly little. Eglystas simply turned to John the rest of the way. When he opened his mouth, his voice sounded flat and lifeless. “Gaia’s angel,” he said, revealing that he knew what few people did: that Lucifrena even existed. “So she is active again. We are similar, if you seek that answer, what will you offer?”
“Ah, you’re one of those types,” John said, jokingly.
It did create a tired smile on the face of the lean, muscular man. Effortlessly balancing on one leg, he scratched the inside of his knee with his toe. His loose pants shifted somewhat and John could practically feel the attention of the women in the room be drawn to the almost entirely exposed V-lines.
Even in this room of superhumans, Eglystas stood out. Probably because he was, almost literally, a Greek god. Greek with god-like powers was more accurate, but a mouthful.
“I am beyond those types,” the Supreme Seeker of the Flame of Prometheus responded, voice as dry as firewood.
“How about we weigh up my contributions to the library and we skip the whole exchanging stuff?” Momo stepped into the conversation. Fireflies crawled all over her universally present poncho and the fractal patterns of trees on her monochrome dress. They almost seemed like many-coloured leaves, tumbling in ephemeral winds. A feeling that became reality, leaves of many colours tumbling out of nowhere to the floor, covering it in rainbow leaf-litter. “Just think it would be easier.”
Nobody around even batted an eyelash at Momo’s casual display of reality-alteration. What the average Abyssal would have gawked at was almost commonplace in this room. Eglystas himself slowly nodded. “Your contributions have been most welcome. Well then, ask away, John Newman, partner of Momo Firefly.”
“Do you have any relation to Lucifrena?”
“Similar to the relation you and Romulus share – our Innate Abilites are similar,” Eglystas responded. “You and Lucifrena require outside power to help your development, while mine and Romulus’ are more selfish. Whenever I expire, the world around me is consumed in my funeral pyre and I rise again, granted the power that was put to the flame.”
‘So a phoenix of sorts,’ John thought. “How come you became the leader of Prometheus?”
The shoulders of the man pulled back ever so slightly. “He chose me… personally,” was all he responded with.
John knew when he was not supposed to dig any deeper. He really wanted to, but this was one of his allies, so…
“What’s your favourite colour?”
Eglystas raised an eyebrow, the first proper show of emotion John had gotten out of him. A contemplative look replaced the sign of surprise. “Sky blue. Yours is… hmmmm.”
Tilting his head, John waited for the guess. He found it interesting that Eglystas preferred doing it this way rather than asking a question in return. Was it a wish to demonstrate his vast knowledge or had he simply grown bored of receiving answers the common way?
“Your favourite colour in any given moment is whatever the prominent one of your closest woman is.”
Momo sassily rolled her eyes at the leader of the Divided Gates’ member. “That’s a cop-out. Everyone knows that about my perv.”
“…Your true favourite colour, however, is dark blue,” Eglystas continued. “Because it is a non-offensive colour on screens and has just a little more character than solid black. It reminds you of good nights spent gaming until dawn.”
“Still pretty easy, but true enough.” John shrugged and wondered what else to talk about with Eglystas. The man kept his eyes on the Gamer, but he might as well have stared up into the air. It truly felt like he was somewhere else entirely. A computer with infinite RAM and processing power, running not a single program. ‘If I felt particularly mean, I might even call him an omniscient idiot.’
John did not believe Eglystas was either of those two.
“Where are the Lorylim?” he asked, wondering if he could exploit this immense intellect.
“They hide their tracks well and little word reaches me from those parts of the world. I know as little about their location as I do the Reaper’s.”
“What an interesting response,” the Gamer hummed. The Reaper was commonly misnamed as the god of death. In the Abyss, there were many gods of death, ranging from disease to war, so the idea that there was a single god that embodied the entire concept could simply not be true. The Grim Reaper, instead, was the god of the fear of death. Before Thana’s ascension, he had been regarded as the second strongest deity, only surpassed by Gaia. John knew that he had been number three even then. Ferikrona’s existence was not widely known.
The top of the divine leaderboard was an interesting bunch. Fear of death was trumped by time, which was trumped by genocide, which was trumped by the goddess of Faith itself. The ranking was somewhat skewed, due to the particularities of how intense specific kinds of Faith were, but by and large that seemed pretty on-character for humanity.
The Grim Reaper had not been seen in a long while. To the point that it was one of the mysteries John wanted an answer to. When one of the strongest entities on the planet was just missing, that generally was cause for concern. It was akin to losing a set of nukes in the middle of mercenary controlled territory. Nothing could happen, or they could wake up to the nastiest surprise imaginable.
“Our conversation is over,” Eglystas suddenly decided and turned away. He walked to another part of the room and just stood there, until someone else stepped into his field of view.
“Is that how he always acts?” John asked Socrates. The lookalike of the historical figure had approached them even as the talk had been ongoing. Towards allies, a question like that felt like one he could get away with.
“He is a living archive more than our leader,” Socrates confessed. “He insisted on recording this with his own eyes, for the day he offers this knowledge to the Fire of Prometheus.”
“Is that a figure of speech or…?”
“I’m afraid not even I know the answer to that question,” the member of the Wise Council responded. “Our national story, if you will, is that it is the duty of our members to gather all we can to understand the material and spiritual universe. Each bit of knowledge is a spark of the flame that Prometheus handed to mankind at the beginning of our rise from the muck.”
“So, you believe then that Prometheus predates the entire Abyss?” John asked. It was not the first time he had heard of this, but it was the first time he got it in more detail.
Socrates nodded hesitantly. “The myth says that Prometheus was the first god. He manifested at the beginning, from the sands of time, and handed seeds and ideas to the people around the world, starting civilization as we know it. His only command was to keep him in our hearts and minds and that he would return once enough knowledge has been- Is something the matter?”
“Oh no, please continue,” the Gamer said. For just a moment, the realization at the back of his head had been so deep and absolute, it had even cracked through his ever-present poker face.
He knew who had handed the people of the world the basis for agriculture and ideas to spur on the formation of civilization.
As quickly as was possible without looking suspicious, John made his way out of the conversation. Momo followed him while he made his way once again out of the crowd. He needed to be somewhere quiet, somewhere he could think.
‘Shit, shit, shit,’ John ran his mind through his plans, his contingencies, and he had to topple his entire current understanding.
The Gamer turned a corner and nearly bumped into a humongous, nightmarish form of the Horned Rat. Bowed over him, the hunchbacked creature nearly enveloped him with its furred limbs. The exposed skull hung right above John’s head, the teeth of goats, dogs, bears and all manner of creatures parted just enough for the stinking hot breath to flow out.
“Do not.”
“You fucking knew,” John realized instantly. “Of fucking course, you did.”
“John, what is going on?” Momo asked. She hadn’t yet combined what he had put together – either because this topic wasn’t on her mind as often or because she didn’t want to believe it. “What are we dealing with this time?”
“Is anyone around?” John asked the god before him.
“Only me, my patriarch,” Nightingale responded. The harpy followed a mouse that ran up to the clawed foot of the Horned Rat and buried under his skin like a parasite. The bulge of its body travelled up the monster’s leg, gradually melding into the greater whole of the god. “Was I called for privacy?”
John grit his teeth. “Shroud us, please,” he requested. Luna would no doubt sense the masking of their presence, but there were many reasons for them to want to go off the radar for a bit. The second Nightingale signalled that the barrier was up, the Gamer turned to the Horned Rat again. “Why did you not tell me?!”
“I knew and know nothing for truly, truly certa-“
“Don’t play that fucking game with me right now, Rat!” John took a deep breath, biting back as much of the rage and the obscenity as he could. Neither were going to serve him. “You knew and you know what danger this has for my people. Is this one of your crises you are hatching to test me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, even I can’t plan backwards in time.”
“Can SOMEONE,” Momo shouted, “tell me – what is – going – ON?!”
John hadn’t even realized he had kept his mind shut. He opened up, but his words were quicker than Momo’s inquisitive thoughts reaching out.
“Prometheus is Remus.”
The words created a deafening silence. This random hallway within Romulus’ palace became the central place of a secret of endless depth being uttered. Rubbing the lower half of his face, John’s eyes jumped around randomly. Behind them, his mind was racing. Neither Nightingale nor Momo dared to say anything. Even the Horned Rat stayed respectfully quiet.
“You knew I would find out here… why not tell me earlier?” John asked.
“Would you believe me if I said I hoped against hope you wouldn’t?” The question was tired. A manipulation or a genuine sign of weakness.
“You know this changes everything,” John hissed. “If it really is the god of Remus and not Remus himself that is rising from ivy, spring, and bone, then we are at the end of a plot ten millennia in the making. A backup plan created and executed, with the Faith of a member of the Divided Gates behind its incarnation – not just a hail mary by a man beyond desperate. Worse, if it is him, he will…”
John stopped himself because he did not actually know what Remus would do. He rubbed his forehead, the sheer weight of the entire situation descending on him. That unguided intellect he saw there, dedicated only to the mission Remus gave the nation, where exactly was it going?
“Does Romulus know?” he mumbled instead.
“He must have his theories, but what will he tell them?” the Horned Rat responded. “The brother I threw into endless torment is also the founder of your civilization? Prometheus will stop at nothing to rescue Remus once they learn.”
“Shit.” John bit down on the tip of his thumb.
“Stop that.” Momo bumped shoulders with him and he did as he was asked. “What are our options?”
“We have no options,” John responded grimly. “That’s the terror here. Previously, I thought whatever entity rises out of the spring can be handled, but who knows now? Ten millennia of aggregated Faith, Momo, accumulated and shaped by the Godmaker.” He rubbed his forehead. “Best case scenario, this is all a historical fluke – a back-up plan by Remus that took on a life of its own in his absence. Even that doesn’t matter, though. Whether he intended to or not, the guild and its Faith exists.”
“Once Remus returns…” Nightingale put a wing around John. A calming touch that he leaned into readily. “…should he escape, he can take control over Prometheus, correct?”
“Presumably,” John sighed. “That guild has never been in a major war, as far as I know. They’ve been stockpiling resources and knowledge for… thousands of years. I couldn’t think of a better starting position for my vengeance. Except… it’s right next to Romulus’ base of operations.”
“And if Remus returns not as himself but as his own god, then his brother can slay him instantly,” the Horned Rat rumbled. “I know what you think, John. Do not.”
‘Why not?’ John wanted to ask. He knew better. To tell Romulus still had the same difficulty as before. No, it was even worse now. Could Prometheus take the side of the Purest Front, if opposition to Romulus and completion of their national myth became the same thing? The Abyss functioned on stories even more than the real world did. How could it not when so much of the Abyss’ stability was dependent on the honour of the few, supremely powerful individuals that could cull the rest of them down whenever they felt like it?
“We do nothing,” Momo mumbled, “and we run the risk of Remus getting away and completing his plans. We tell Romulus, and we run the risk of Fusion getting ground to dust between them. In the end, we know absolutely nothing about any path.”
“Could we kill Remus’ entity in its crib?” Nightingale suggested in a reluctant tone.
“We would just be delaying the inevitable,” John told her. “That was one of the first things I had analysed in detail. He’s shaping out of the Sands of Time. If there are any, somewhere on the globe, then his reincarnation will shift there and… chances are that will still be somewhere in Fusion territory. Just somewhere we don’t know about.”
“Do not tell Romulus,” the Horned Rat pleaded.
THAT god pleaded.
John laughed out loud, because it was just that ridiculous. “Oh, we’re between a rock and a hard place, aren’t we?” he asked. “But I’m just about to take my chances and have Romulus stab the spring and try to dissolve this all before it happens.”
“If you do so, it will take you another hundred years to reach parity with the Apex and that’s the least worrisome part of it,” the Horned Rat growled. “In preventing one brother from rising, you will make the other stronger than he has ever been. Make no mistake, John Newman – Romulus WILL try to slay Gaia again if that happens and he WILL fail and he WILL take all of the Abyss around the Mediterranean down with him in his ambition.”
“Shit!” John cursed again because he knew the Horned Rat was right. “Why do I have to live in interesting times?” he lamented, rubbing his temples. “And why can’t people just do what I want them to? It would be so much easier if no one around had retardedly grand plans to change the way the world works….”
“Like you’re not a cause of the times being interesting,” Momo joked.
John chuckled, this time the laugh was genuine amusement, not surprise. “Fusion getting caught in the grindstone of the brothers, Remus getting a jump start into the world stage, or Romulus attempting to slay Gaia, killing hundreds of thousands in the process. Bravo, a fantastic set of choices.”
“…Is it truly our best choice to let Remus return?” Nightingale muttered, in thought.
“…Yes,” John answered. It was terrible, but it was true. To let Fusion be the battlefield on which the Divided Gates fought over Remus was going to accomplish nothing. If Romulus slew his brother before he returned, Romulus would still achieve unparalleled power. Similarly, if Remus rose during the conflict, he would still get his hands on the world stage.
Letting Remus rise, however, and to let him get to his position of power, made him just another actor on the world stage. Maybe Romulus’ rage would make him declare war immediately or maybe time had changed the Apex’s opinion on the matter entirely. It was all impenetrable fog. Not even Lorelei had even vague answers.
Whatever happened, if the brothers fought somewhere outside Fusion, that gave John the most valuable resource of all: time. Time was all he needed. Time would bring him to a level where he could intervene in the brother war.
“Do not tell Romulus,” the Horned Rat pleaded again.
“…You’ll get your will,” John gave in.
As much as he loathed doing nothing.
Comments
Chris
Our list of allies grows thin.
Marko
FUCK YEAH
