“I love my life so much,” John mused in the shower, receiving a triple blowjob while having his hair shampooed for him. It was understandably stuffed in the shower, not that it was a bad thing to be smothered on all sides by soft female curves. As to who and how, a combination of Sylph flying and Undine curving her body in ways only things without bones could allowed the duo together with Aclysia to access his dick without getting in each other’s way.

“Understandable,” Beatrice, the one gently massaging his scalp with soap, agreed robotically, only to move on and lather the rest of him by grinding her own bubble-covered body against him. Mouths were temporarily exchanged for hands as Aclysia did the same for his lower body. “You are getting pampered.” That was a massive understatement by the passive maid, John hadn’t even used his hands to get naked.

‘As fun as this is, we might need to get a shower room at some point,’ John thought. It was more unusual for the shower to not be occupied by at least two people during the hours normal people hopped into the stream of hot water. Generally, that was okay, but there was something to be said about people wanting to just shower without either sharing or waiting for extended periods.

That aside, John wanted to have an orgy in a bathhouse, starting in the locker room and ending in a giant bathtub. He did seem to remember that there was a bathhouse building for his Guild Hall, so it would happen eventually without a doubt. One quick release of internal pressure and rinsing down later, John stepped out of the shower cleaner than he could hope to ever be.

He dressed on his own, upon his insistence. Getting pampered was nice and all, but he really didn’t want to reach medieval monarch levels of relying on his servants. He walked into the living room to both Lydia and Rave waiting for him on the couch.

Not in the sexual sense, but in actual nice clothing. Of course, neither of them dressed really ladylike. Rave was in tight leggings and wearing a dark blue shirt with long sleeves; combined it gave her a presentable aura that was carried completely by her beauty. Certainly, no woman of lesser looks could have pulled that outfit off, with pink, long and chaotic hair and neon-green painted nails together with bright pink sneakers, and hoped to maintain any sort of social acceptability.

Lydia on the other hand was wearing a simple summer dress of white with a black cross running over it in a perfectly on-centre fashion. To John, it was fairly obvious that she was wearing the flag of the Teuton Order but as a dress. Although, with just a few changes, John could easily see the dress transform into a tabard. It was almost a great outfit for going out, if it weren’t for the fact that the queen still refused to depart from her heavy marching boots.

John didn’t voice any complaints, however, as they were about to visit a man who usually went out with a dinosaur skull hiding his face. Checking his own suit to make sure everything was repaired, he said, “Alright, we good to go?”

The question went out to only these two, as everyone else had shown no interest in going over to the Magus household and have dinner with them. Somewhat understandable, as these were the last few hours of the barrier and most of them were looking forward to just do a few things they liked to end this ten day grindfest on a truly relaxing note. They both said something to the effect of ‘yes’ and along they went. John used the moment to check his stats page.

He had done quite well for himself. With Strength at 100 he had gotten the last few ‘easy’ synergies. In total it had gotten him an increase from 0,025 HP Reg per Strength point to 0,04, from 1,25% of Max HP to 1,5% and pretty godly reflexes to the point where he could start moving in response to pretty much anything. Didn’t guarantee him that he would be quick enough, though, sadly enough.

From here on out, he was back to investing into Wisdom, his declared main stat. He would stay on levelling that for a while, wanting to get it up to 500. From there, he guessed that he would divert some points into getting either Libido or Charisma to 75. Sure, they were essentially dump stats for his build, but he wanted to have them simply because they either spiced up his love life or made negotiations that bit easier. Plus, 25 points in one stat was basically pocket change at this point, barely over three levels.

“You have fun with that weird fuck and his wife,” Eliza waved them off as Aclysia vanished in the kitchen to clean out everything they could still use. Without further comment, John opened the door and stepped outside.

“Why are you two coming with me anyhow?” John asked the unlikely duo. The reason why he went to have dinner with Magoi was not just for niceness sake but also to get some last points clear before their departure the next day.

“I just wanna show Mabirl that I can be civilized too,” Rave crossed her arms. “I won’t be ridiculed by old trophy wives!”

“I just want to be in a more formal atmosphere for a change,” Lydia’s reason was a bit easier to understand, the whole chaos of the extended harem was fun but the complete opposite of the queen’s natural environment.

They crossed the rather large distance between the two houses, from the place of John’s childhood to the tower Magoi had copied for himself from the Guild Hall. While they may have been made on the same day, the landscape around them had vastly transformed. Martial art training, Gnome experimenting with her unleashed spell and just general fighting practice had transformed the simple green lawn. By now, the last day, the thing looked like somebody had carpet bombed everything and then built creative walls with the scattered earth.

“I would like to come with.” All three of them jumped at the unexpected toneless voice of Nia from behind them. “But I don’t think Magoi likes me a lot.”

“That is ridiculous,” John immediately went to say, after turning around. He couldn’t image that the open-minded Fateweaver wouldn’t like the blank. Then again, when he thought about for more than an instinctive second, it did make sense. “Right… I am the odd one here for not being consistently appalled,” he mumbled.

Nia stepped close, very close, until only a small ruler would have fit between them. A card was suddenly raised in that small space. ‘Happy’, it read. “Yes, you are,” she affirmed, her mouth hidden by the card. John liked to imagine she was smiling right there, but it was hard, as he had never once seen her do that and her eyes displayed the same emotionlessness as always.

“In my experience,” Lydia chimed in, “those that haven’t grown up in the Abyss are less easily taken aback by a blank’s natural aura. This covers both you and me, John, so the odd one would more likely be Jane.”

“See, ya say that,” John’s girlfriend smirked and put an arm around Nia, “but I just decided that she was too cute to let some supernatural weirdness stop me from getting in her pants. I swing both ways and I know when I see a cutie.”

John was quite well informed about the few adventures Rave had with her own sex before they got to know each other. Unlike her and past guys, those nights were something he heard about with open ears. “To put it short,” he thus decided, “we are all the odd ones.” He gave Nia the most honest, loving smile he could muster.

She stood perfectly still for several moments, as Nia did, then she simply walked away in a straight line. “Nice going, tiger,” Rave complimented her boyfriend.

“Why? Was that good?” John asked.

“She was basically flustered down to the heartstrings,” the Lightbearer crossed her arms and nodded to herself.

Lydia raised a doubting eyebrow. “Really?” that single word expressed deeply what John was feeling as well.

Rave raised one finger, wiggling it with every letter as she spelled her answer out, “T-o-t-a-l-l-y. You two need to work on your emotional perception.”

“I am really perceptive,” John dared to suggest, having analysed the pariah’s body language for months now.

“Okay, sure, but are you purrceptive?” Rave asked, and the pun was so bad that the Gamer dropped the conversation entirely, and they finally arrived over at Magoi’s house. They rang the doorbell and waited.

To no one’s surprise it was Mabirl who answered, without her mask. That part was mildly unexpected.

It was the first time John was seeing her face and he had to admit that she was quite good looking, despite the wrinkles than ran definitely deeper than he found attractive. Her dark hair fell in curls down her shoulders. She had slightly sunken cheeks, but for the most part she retained a youthful energy, particularly in her eyes. The brown colour peeked out from behind half closed lids, looking at him with light judgement.

John immediately raised his fist and cleared his throat. “May we enter?”

“Yes,” Mabirl answered in a musing tone and turned her body sideways, welcoming them inside with a wave of her arm. “Please do leave your shoes in the entrance, we value even our short-lived carpets.”

Far was it from John’s intent to ignore the wishes of a housewife in her four walls. He quickly got rid of his shoes, as did his two companions, then they were guided into the carbon copy of the living room and towards the table.

It was immense how different people decorated their houses. Where the group’s temporary dwelling space was a large array of ‘function over form’ decisions, where the function was ‘fooling around with videogames and sex’ with mattresses scattered on the floor and as much seating squished into the room as was possible. The Magus’ tower reminded John more of his grandparents’ place.

Despite being a mere copy of their actual tower, everything was kept orderly, the glasses were where the glasses belonged, same for the plates and the books. Small pictures hung orderly in the gap between a large grandfather’s clock and a flat screen TV. The furniture was white, as they were either way less afraid of stains or Mabirl was certain she knew just the right trick to get out whatever might stain. A half empty whiskey bottle sat decoratively in the middle of the dinner table, sharing a salver with two crystal glasses.

Magoi peeked over his newspaper; he too was without mask. “Wow, you weren’t kidding,” Rave whispered in his ear at the sight of the scarred face of the High Fateweaver. Although he wasn’t nearly as attractive as his wife, the bald man had the same lively eyes. “He does look a bit like Deadpool, if I am honest.”

Magoi raised the muscle that normally should be marked by an eyebrow, he didn’t make out the words, but the fact that Rave was speaking directly in her boyfriend’s ear was already quite telling. With barely any intent to veil the action, Lydia gently kicked Rave’s ankle and gave her a stern glare once that netted her the attention of the Lightbearer.

The married couple wore matching clothes, albeit not the usual ones. Magoi had exchanged his butler’s outfit for a proper suit, with a bow tie, which he actually wore quite stylishly. His wife was wearing a plain champagne dress from high-quality but uninteresting cloth. “The soup will still need a few minutes, but by all means, sit down,” Mabirl offered in a friendly tone as she took a seat to the right of her own husband.

John took a moment to consider where to sit down. He could either take the opposite end of the table or sit down close the Magoi at the side. After a moment of hesitation, he shook his head, laughed and sat down at the side, one chair down from Magoi’s left to allow Rave and Lydia to sit down directly next to him.

“What is so entertaining, John?” Magoi asked, a knowing smile on his lips.

“I spend too much time politicking,” the Gamer answered. “I seriously thought about where to sit down and came to a rational conclusion. I think too much about little gestures, basically.”

“Oh? Then why did you sit down where you are now?” the High Fateweaver obviously had some fun dissecting the situation. Undoubtedly, he had done his fair share of political manoeuvring in his day.

“I am here as a friend, not as your superior or anything like that,” John answered, “so taking the head of the table felt like I was imposing my authority or something like that.”

At his left side, Lydia nodded approvingly. “Not a bad analysis,” she complimented.

“Yes, not bad indeed, even if I agree that you are overthinking it,” Magoi leaned back in his chair and folded his newspaper twice before placing it on a perfectly distanced stand on the wall behind him. “If there is anything that insults me, it is that you waited until the absolute last minute to visit us, I was rather looking forward to having a drink with you.”

“Don’t you mean tea?” John asked.

“No,” Magoi was quite clear. “So, who wants what?”

“I’ll take a beer, dark if you have it,” Lydia immediately switched into gear.

Rave pointed at the bottle on the table. “Can I try that?”

“Sure. Honey, could you get an extra glass?” Magoi asked his wife, who was already in the process of standing up.

“Uhm,” John was feeling the good old social awkwardness bubble up, “why do we need a third glass?”

“Because we are three people drinking whiskey,” Magoi mused. Before John could formulate any meaningful argument as to why he didn’t want to drink, a glass was already in front of him and filled with a sip of the expensive liquor. Mabirl herself sat down with something sparkly, presumably champagne. “Well, then, delayed but a toast to Fusion and its rule over New York! May our reign not be suddenly ended by a force crushing our humble beginnings.”

Now John could hardly go and refuse the drink, so, against his inhibitions remaining from the last time he had intoxicated himself, he drank. Glasses sang when they clinked against each other, and a moment later, John downed the whiskey. The smoky aroma was quite unpleasant in the first second and he actually coughed once from the alcohol burning in his throat, much to the amusement of the more experienced drinkers (everyone but him) at the table. The aftertaste, however, was mellow and quite fine, John didn’t mind that part too much.

“Okay, my misgivings aside,” the Gamer struck up a new conversation, “I am going to leave tomorrow and, as we previously discussed, I am going to leave you in charge while I am gone.”

“No problem whatsoever,” Magoi stated, his wife producing a bottle of water from somewhere to give the High Fateweaver something to rinse the alcohol down with. “You are taking Scarlett with you, right?”

“Yes,” John answered.

“Then there is nothing else to discuss,” Mabirl interjected, offering the water to John as well, who gladly took it. “As long as the potential snake isn’t in striking range, we can keep this little republic of yours together for a few weeks.” An alarm sounded from the kitchen, causing the lady of the house to rise from her seat again. John wasn’t even sure she had sat for a consecutive minute since he entered. “Now, let’s stop discussing business and just have a good time.”