“I like this place,” Richard spoke, walking around the conference room. He soon shed the corporate suit and changed into his original shape, that of a grey-furred humanoid with a rat’s skull for a head, decorated with the four name-giving horns. The only, and very sensible, change the god of future calamities made to himself was his size. At two metres he was still quite the giant, but he fit under the ceiling.

After passing by Magoi and Magnus, the former calmly reading his newspaper, the latter watching with disciplined eyes, the god stopped in his tracks. Grabbing the rest of a deep-sea blue chair, the Horned Rat nodded to himself, the red light in his otherwise empty eye-sockets flickering amusedly, “I like it a lot. A nice piece to take off these tentacle-faced pirates.” Having said that, he pulled the chair back and sat down. Long tail wrapping around the backrest.

For once John wasn’t surprised about the Horned Rat being aware of the things happening around him. It had been quite the public affair and months had passed since, everyone even remotely interested in the Gamer’s life would have heard of it by now.

“Your appreciation of our surroundings isn’t of concern,” Lydia sat in her own chair, across from John, with crossed arms and iron-eyed stare. “I demand to be informed of everything that transpired within the last weeks in detail immediately.”

John raised an eyebrow, “You would make demands of the man you are visiting in his own territory?” The question wasn’t really serious, but Lydia being Lydia, she took it as such.

“I am making demands of a lover who had a THIRD tumble with the Lorylim and who has me dead worried at times,” she slammed her hand on the table, rising menacingly from her seat. “Who also promised me he would tell me everything in person!”

“Fucking relax your sphincter and let the stick fall out, anal queen,” Eliza cursed from the side-lines. Her presence made it a bit hard to handle this situation with the proper respect. That wasn’t the blood mage’s fault, at least not entirely. It was just that she, Rave, Nia, Gnome and Stirwin were all taking a swivel chair each, all of which were turning due to a certain tempest elemental running up and down the row to tag each of them.

Being watched by an unequally rotating array of amused women and a golden crocodile hatchling would sap the seriousness out of every situation ever. “Cappy, off the table!” Rave shouted at her own light elemental.

“I am a cat, not a dog!” the animal shaped spirit continued to tap around without a care in the world.

Lydia’s left eye twitched and she was taking a deep breath in. All chairs in the room suddenly stopped rotating as the metal axes ground to a halt. “As is eternally consistent, you bantering lot are in need of a few lectures. For a start, keep your feet under the table during a conference! It is deeply disrespectful to treat…” Fifteen minutes later, “…and this why you should at least make your hair…” Another fifteen minutes later, “…I will end with the fact that all wind elementals should be contained during conferences. It is common sense that they are raw disturbances.”

“Rude! So very rude, I feel offended!” Sylph flailed her tiny arms. Reaching into her mantle, Aclysia pulled out a liquorice bonbon, unwrapped it and threw it at the air spirit. “What’s this?!” The distraction was a complete success, and moments later, Sylph was sitting in the chair next to Stirwin and licking the much too big sugary treat.

“Getting a point across with you people is like trying to convince Ria to build a normal city!” Lydia fell back into her chair and cleared her throat. Thirty minutes of complaining had turned it quite parched. She was handed a cup of tea from the side. “Thank you, Aclysia,” she reflexively said, looking up to her left side only after taking a sip. “As good as always… short hair looks quite good on you.”

“Wrong person. Thanks. Thanks,” Beatrice addressed the statements in the order they came in.

Her chopped off way of speaking must have tipped the queen off as she furrowed her eyebrows. She then turned her head as the actual Aclysia placed a full can on the table from the queen’s right side. “It is an easy mistake to make,” the weaponized maid stated. “That is Beatrice.”

Lydia looked from one Artificial Spirit to the other for a few seconds. “Short hair and opposite side placed mole,” she quickly analysed the situation. “Also Beatrice has slightly bigger breasts. Is there a reason why you created another white-haired beauty?”

“How about ‘my dick’?” John suggested.

“That would be the expected answer,” Lydia sighed. “Anyhow, we are getting lost in tangents again. If you could please initiate the explanation - I would be much obliged.”

Metra snarled from the side-lines; the ancient weapon was opting to lean her muscular frame against the wall, her halberd right next to her. “Girl, John didn’t want to tell you these things over the phone and now you want him to report while the person he wants to know the least,” Richard waved at the gathering, his skull creaking as it warped into a bemused smile, “sits right there.”

“A fair point,” Lydia conceded, staring at the Horned Rat. “Leave.”

“Ah, how hurtful,” the god grabbed his chest above where a human’s heart would be and slowly rose in a dramatic fashion. “Well, I guess I can oblige and speak with Scarlett for a bit.”

John’s eyes went wide and his phone vibrated. He quickly fished it out of his pocket.

Scarlett: The fuck?

“If that is her, tell her to come in here already,” the Horned Rat reversed his course and plopped back into the comfortable, if slightly undersized, seat. “I like to see the faces of people I talk to, Technomancer or not.”

A few minutes later, the redhead made her entrance. “And here I thought I was keeping my head low enough for you upper ranks to take no interest in researching my existence,” her rough voice was as pragmatic as always. Her cool wasn’t compromised in the slightest. “Seems like I was wrong.”

“It took me almost a year to confirm your existence, so it’s not like you did the worst job,” the Horned Rat shrugged. “In any case, it is my purpose to know things that could lead to catastrophes. For the moment, you remain a large unknown. Now that you affiliate yourself with the Gamer, I don’t expect that to last.”

“That’s within my calculations,” Scarlett dismissively waved and took a seat close to John. When she put a cigarette in her mouth, Aclysia’s warning gaze caused her to click her tongue. “Fucking sticklers everywhere,” she mumbled, weighed her options and ultimately took the cigarette out of her mouth and put it back in the box. “I expected the upper-ranks to find out about me eventually, just another reason why having the protection of John is of benefit to me.”

John made a slightly mocking expression. “Add it to the many reasons to not backstab me at the first opportune moment.”

“I might do it despite that, I might not,” the Technomancer shrugged. “You knew what you were getting into.”

“Ja,” Rave chimed in, “and I, for one, hope you’re the last intellectual manipulative type in my circle of friends.” She looked around the room, “I got enough of ya big-brained buddies with your convoluted schemes and ‘you taking a loan to invest in seafood was also part of my plan!’-sentences.”

“Whatever you say,” Scarlett shrugged. “Now, before the princess’ head explodes,” Lydia’s fingers were dancing over the table like she was playing a very angry melody on her piano; she even ignored the use of the wrong title in favour of letting things proceed, “why don’t we lay down what she wants to know.”

And so John did.

Surprisingly, at the end, she nodded. “That is a sensible way to approach these things. I must compliment you on your war strategy there, Miss Thorne.”

“By all means, call me Scarlett.”

“Scarly!” Rave corrected. “Call her Scarly, Lyly!”

“You too?” the redhead asked, not missing the rather obvious nickname.

“Everyone remotely serious,” Lydia shook her head at the harem-head’s habits. “Regardless, you seem wise enough to know that casting your lot with John was playing into your interests. I can respect opportunists that are aware when their subjugation serves their interests. Just don’t forget who all support the Gamer.”

The red eyes of the Technomancer darted from the queen to the god, “Noted.”

“Now that we are done threatening each other,” John took the reigns of the conversation, “and have firmly established that I am the man in the house, while the Horned Rat chuckles mysteriously in the corner, how about we talk about things of the now rather than what’s been done?”

“What do ya mean?” Rave asked.

“Well, for a start, we need a name,” John stated. “You know, something like Rex Germaniae or the like.”

“What’s wrong with Collide?” his girlfriend asked, somewhat offended.

“Nothing, it’s just that this,” he tapped on the table, “right here is Collide. What is this…” he opened his arms, gesturing at basically everything, “…though? We are a collective of guilds, so we need a name for the collective.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Rave conceded. “Any ideas?”

“Arcadia!” John immediately answered. He had spent some time thinking about it, and, as it sounded like it was related to both arcane and arcade, he could think of no better name.

“Copyrighted,” came the sudden intervention from the brunette queen across the table.

“Pardon?” John asked. ‘What the hell would the Abyss have copyright for?’ he quietly complained.

Scrolling on her smartphone, Lydia promptly answered. “There is a register of copyrighted entities on the Abyss Auction. Arcadia is definitely claimed.”

“What are they going to do if I take a name already in use, sue me?” John asked in an amused tone. Seriously, why would he care?

“No, they are going to keep the packages falsely sent to their base,” the queen pointed out. “Plus, many people are quite sensible about their names and many others understand that. In this world of magic we live in, names have a lot more power. So, unless you want to be known as a name-robber, I suggest you respect the copyrights.”

John still found that positively ridiculous, especially if the guild he would steal the name from was some backwater, three-people goon-squad in a flyover state. Then again, his journey had started by joining a three-people goon-squad. “Is the name Collide put in the register under our ownership, at least?” he asked. He really didn’t want to change his guild’s name, inherited by a cursing brute or not, this late into the game.

She checked. “Yes, although it’s still filed with a Travolta Meyer as the owner. You may want to update that.“ The Gamer nodded and fidgeted with his phone, still in his hand from earlier. A second hand reached out.

“Done,” Scarlett announced from the side-lines, taking her hands off John’s smartphone after a few seconds. “Beatrice, get me some whiskey! Or something else that I can feel actively destroying my liver.” It seemed the blood-soaked technocrat could not survive without some of her internal organs being attacked by foreign substances.

“As you command, Mistress Thorne,” the bodacious maid obeyed.

“Did you just hack in there?” John wanted to know.

“Not really. I used your mana to mask mine, but otherwise that was just normal procedures.” Beatrice returned with a bottle of Johnny Walker and a glass with two ice-cubes. Watching her drink being prepared, Scarlett finished her explanation up, “The Abyss Auction knew you were a member and hasn’t heard from Travolta in months, so the change was up for the making.”

“Well, at least that was easy…” John raked his brain for some alternative names. “The Nexus?” He used to play a lot of League of Legends and that name was somewhat badass.

“Taken.”

“Summoners’ Temples?”

“We got a Summoner’s Temple, that will lead to confusion,” Lydia informed him. “You could get away with it though.”

Rave giggled and suggested, “How about Black Rose or Velvet?”

“Both taken.”

“Seriously? Wow, I just wanted to annoy Moira when I next see her,” the Lightbearer tapped her foot in a steady rhythm. Copernicus jumped in her lap, demanding pats with a basic meow. Being a cat and very soft, he got them.

“You would sacrifice the collective’s name to annoy one person?” Metra laughed. “Man, I know why I look like you, Jane. You are my spirit animal.”

“’Cause I got the most attractive, fattest ass in the room and the attitude of the best girl,” Rave smirked back.

John was running out of ideas in the meanwhile. “Colliding States of America?” he went for the boring options for now.

Eliza broke into a shrill laughter. “You dumbfuck,” she half-screamed at him, “tell me what that shit shortens to!”

“C-S-…oh, yeah, that won’t fly,” John admitted. “Alright, taking suggestions.”

“Kingdom of Newman,” Metra did as asked, not exactly serious. On the whole ‘getting John to accept kingship’-thing, she was now holding the ‘I don’t care anymore’-position, with a dash of passive aggressive remarks.

“Full-Fuck-Force,” Eliza’s idea was also followed by a large array of unsteady toned giggles.

“Gummybears!” Sylph shouted.

“Gummybears!” Stirwin echoed.

“Cinder,” Salamander was completely serious about her idea.

“We want to unify America, not put it to the torch!” John protested.

“I think we can do both,” the scarred endflame elemental cackled.

The Gamer began to regret asking.

“U-uhm,” Gnome shily raised her hand. “M-maybe we should look at it from a kind of philosophical angle? If Collide is the start of it, something that happens after the collision should be the root term for the name?” Everyone was looking at her. “I-I mean,” she was panicked due to the attention, “only if that doesn’t sound… too… stupid… uwuwuwu.”

“I find that idea rather elegant,” Lydia stated.

“Yeah,” John agreed. “Good job, Gnome.”

Even Richard nodded, and from behind his newspaper, Magoi gave a thumbs-up.

“Okay,” John continued, “what are things that happen upon or after collisions?”

“Shattering?” Rave suggested.

“I don’t want a state called ‘Shattered’ or ‘Fragmented Guilds’, sounds like the whole structure is about to collapse at any given time,” the Gamer said but then hummed, “then again, the irony would be quite interesting.”

“How about opposite then?” the Horned Rat spoke up. “A collision can not only scatter, it can also fuse, given the right amount of pressure. Fusion, one word with a simple message, is it not?”

“Also, open, surprisingly,” Lydia commented.

“Mhm, doesn’t that sound a bit socialistic?” John asked, knowing full well that he was just searching for a reason to dismiss the Horned Rat’s idea. Although he liked it.

“Socialistic would be the ‘People’s Fusing Democratic Republic of America’ or something like that,” Scarlett disagreed. “Fusion as the front is exactly the right idea. Just six letters, that saves ink and gets stuck in people’s minds easily.”

“Mhm… fine, let’s say we go with Fusion,” John didn’t dislike the Horned Rat enough to skip over a good name. “Anybody got an idea for a logo?”

To everyone’s surprise, it was Eliza who raised her hand. “Yo, Aclysia, get your ass into gear and get me a pencil and some fucking paper so I can shit together a work of art that undead parrots would get heart-attacks over!” That sentence made enough sense to understand what she wanted, so the weaponized maid obliged.

Paper and pencils were fetched, enough for other people on the table to also participate. Eliza was still the one who finished first.

John had anticipated the result to be a middle-finger crossed with a giant dick and looking like it was drawn by a toddler. Instead he was faced with a skilful sketch of six comet-like objects colliding in the centre and unifying, through a small vortex, into a singular point, the name ‘Fusion’ written in a soft curve over the bottom.

Each of the comets had a different design, invoking the idea that they were supposed to belong to the six elements. In colour the whole thing would look artistically impressive, while also being simple enough to print in mass. Even now, as a simple sketch, the outline looked like a flower, a motive that got stuck in people’s brains quite easily. It was unique and yet simple enough to be remembered in detail and recognized by everyone.

“You earned yourself an afternoon in the sex room,” John stated as he looked over the paper in his hand for the sixth time. At his side, an impressed Rave nodded. Lydia circled around the table to take a look herself.

“Could use an eagle,” she stated, “but yes, generally impressive. Since when can you draw, Eliza?”

“Since I was left home alone most of the time and had to do some shit to keep myself occupied,” the blood mage answered. “Want me to finalize that version?”

“Very much, yes,” John handed it back to her. “Great that we got that business done. Now, while I got you two here,” he gestured at Lydia and the Horned Rat, “I want you to take a look at the way my current government is set up and point out any obvious flaws.”

This was the last chance for any fundamental changes to the system. Once he held the first elections and everything was supposed to run by itself, stopping the thing to make any sweeping adjustments would have giant opportunity costs.

“A wise decision,” Lydia nodded.

“Not what I came here for, but I got the time,” Richard agreed.