Before the newly made coliseum, the market had been Fusion’s largest sign in the area. The Protected Space was public property, a previously foreign concept to the local ‘might makes right’ governance of the Small Lake Pact. Maintenance on it was paid for by taxes.

While John, as an American, had great sympathies for the ‘taxation is theft’ crowd, it could not be denied that projects like this Illusion Barrier required the firm hand of a state to, at the very least, start up. It required broad coordination to build, from the houses to the underlying infrastructure and the Protected Space itself. All of this was possible as a private endeavour, but highly unlikely to be done in an area that wasn’t already developed.

‘It’s pretty easy to ignore the stance that taxation is itself theft if the taxes are used for something that is of tangible benefit to those paying it,’ the Gamer analysed. ‘Really, I think very few people have a principled stance for 0% taxes and more against government inefficiency, which is valid enough, I suppose.’

The marketplace was of an architecture that was slowly becoming the Fusion staple. Like most rising western powers, there was an element of Roman rediscovery to it, especially to the columns and use of white marble. It was a minor influence compared to the two other dominant influences. One was the mundane Art Deco style, with all of its symmetrical patterns, soft curves and hard angles. The other was the Lake Alliance’s borderline Atlantean style of building, involving great amounts of crystal glass and flowing water. Dominant colours were a dark grey and blue, mixed with more friendly tones like silver and green (in the form of plants) to prevent it all from entering the dour realm.

There was a uniformity to the buildings that John thought to be too much. He enjoyed symmetry a lot and found most mundane inner cities to be a garbled mess of architectural individualism and grey concrete. Even if these buildings looked a lot better, the lack of differences on the scale of an entire market district was a bit much. It was already in the process of being fixed. Unlike the Aztec settlement, the market was over a year old and thus showed signs of being lived in, removing the synthetic feeling of it all day by day.

The central plaza of the market was a reminder of Fusion’s presence. John had managed to convince himself not to place a statue of the President there. Instead, a great column with a flower representing Fusion’s symbol at the top stood on the plaza’s centre. Simple, but effective – as were the four policemen that patrolled the area in their dark uniforms.

The place was, of course, busy. The restaurants were packed, the shops frequented, and the craftsmen repaired all of the equipment that had been broken during the initial weeding out of contestants. John spotted several clusters of people around the plaza. One of them was focused around Romulus, who was enjoying a taste of the local cuisine. Sol made sure her man was only watched, not talked to. Another cluster was focused around Hyozuma, who openly used the chance to flirt. The third was focused around the Splatterknight, who was letting three boys climb all over his armoured form.

There were more, but John did not feel like investigating every last one of them when he had two beauties with him. Lee and Nahua made for more pleasant viewing than the public. A cluster was naturally forming around him as well, but the people had been schooled thoroughly by Aclysia over the years not to talk to him unless he was holding a public event.

“I do enjoy your northern traditions of closeness,” Nahua commented.

As per usual, John had his arm around both of his dates. Hands on their hips, they advanced slowly, teaching Nahua the harem walk. That the people in front of them parted to make space did help.

“Was it different in your realm?” John asked.

“The customs differed through the time of my life, but generally women were expected to walk quietly in arm’s reach of their husband, without touching him,” Nahua reported. “That is for the wives of noblemen. The commoners could be and were more lax with their customs.”

Lee put her head forwards so she could look across John’s chest at her fellow haremette. “Different question: aren’t you cold?”

A justified inquiry, twice over. Unlike Lee’s outfit, which John knew was enchanted to keep her comfortable regardless of temperature, Nahua’s tropical tribal garb barely covered any skin. Both by origin and the current weather, she would have been justified in shivering.

“I know why my people never colonized northwards,” Nahua answered simply and yawned. “If you are asking whether I would prefer it to be warmer, I would answer yes – but I am not bothered. This body does not suffer from hypothermia and I am used to greater displeasures.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to suffer,” John told her.

“I am not suffering, I am merely slightly uncomfortable.” Nahua smirked maliciously. “In my culture, to be in pain voluntarily is seen as an act of strength. What is a little cold, compared?”

“Mhm… the western culture does and does not have that,” John answered.

“Do we?” Lee asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Fully depends on what it is and who you ask, but in general I think there’s a degree of admiration for people who shoulder burdens they don’t have to, right?”

“Eh… let’s take No Nut November as an example, do you admire people that do that?”

“Admire is a strong word, but I do think higher of them than people that can’t do it?” John answered after thinking about it for a moment. “It shows a degree of mastery over their own urges, right? Isn’t that good?”

“Feels kinda silly to me,” Lee drawled.

“Yeah, but you also could never do it,” the Gamer pointed out. “Even when I’m not around, you do it at least three times a day.”

“Like you could do it!”

“I probably could,” John told her. “I’ve done sex breaks in the past. Not as long, but I have. What do you think, Nahua?”

“Assuring your sins do not control you is always beneficial,” Nahua answered immediately. “That being said, living away from all that is sinful because it is unclean is also, like, sooooooo stupid.”

John snorted in amusement at her drifting into the bimbo accent mid-sentence. “That seems about right. Everything in moderation.”

“So, I shouldn’t play League for 16 hours straight?” Lee asked, tongue in cheek.

“You shouldn’t play League for 16 seconds,” John answered immediately.

“Well, well, well!” a foreign voice interrupted their banter. John turned around to see Nach walk up to them, his family in tow. Tachia and Tach were a few steps behind him. Only the axe juggler seemed to have any hesitance in approaching the Gamer, but ultimately pulled after the slender trap mage. The sharp-teethed plant controller had her usual grin on her face. “If it isn’t the President himself!”

John didn’t need Observe to read the intentions of the trio. “Haven’t you been humiliated enough in a day?”

“Oh, a threat? From our most magnanimous ruler? I am shocked!” Nach put a hand on his chest and stepped even closer. Before he could cross the boundary between polite and personal, Nahua stepped into the gap. Eyebrow raised, the trap mage gave her a haughty stare. “Out of the way, little girl.”

Nahua inspected the trap mage with plain faced disdain, before letting her lips spread in a malicious smirk. “You look like a sodomite.”

The Gamer had to hold back a rather intense bout of laughter at the old-fashioned insult. It was just so out of left field for his sensibilities that it became thrice as funny as it should have been. Lee’s lips were sucked in, barely managing to contain her own laughter.

Nach was genuinely stunned and John could not blame him. In the current year, being a sodomite wasn’t an insult anymore but asking ‘what would be wrong with that?’ would rather publicly insinuate that he was. “What do you know?!” he shot back. Not the worst response, credit given. “You’re just another plaything.”

“What I am is none of your business,” Nahua answered dismissively. “I am one of his and that is all that matters. You, on the other hand, are defeated.” Now the axolotl woman took a half step forward. “Submit to your superior, boy.”

Nach clicked his tongue, then raised his voice, “By the customs of this land, I challenge you!” he declared loudly.

A dark chuckle rose in Nahua’s throat. Rather than accept immediately, she looked at John. The Gamer did not have to consider for long. Before Fusion had taken over the area, such challenges would have come in the form of an immediate attack rather than a request. He had insisted on that being made illegal, but a strong duelling culture he was all for. Plus, this was a way to feed them some more humble pie.

So, he nodded.

“Your master has-“

“Do not speak that title lightly, bloodless wretch,” Nahua interrupted. “It does not deserve to cross your tongue.”

“What, can’t handle a little banter?” Tachia weighed in, still grinning sharply.

“Obviously she can’t.” Tach was seemingly encouraged by his family’s directness. “All of the tyrant’s women are tyrants themselves. That’s why his harem grows ever bigger: misery loves company.”

“…I must reject your request for a duel.” Nahua’s dark green eyes waved between her three targets. “Instead, I utter my own: all three of you, face me.”

“Ahhh, I suppose we have no choice!” Nach spoke theatrically.

‘Yeah, that tracks. They would have had some semblance that it was best to try to isolate one of mine and gang up on her.’ John had the urge to sigh at their naivety. If he could grant his enemies Observe, he would have. Perhaps then they would have stopped believing they could achieve anything by trying this.

In the corner of his eye, John caught Lee typing away at the Harem Comms. By the time he leaned over, she had pressed enter and swiftly closed the window. “It’s more satisfying if you don’t know,” she answered his unspoken question with a tomboyish grin.

That a communication window opened up in front of Nahua a moment later gave him a good idea of what had happened. That Nahua suddenly straightened up and smiled happily made the rest very clear.

“Alright, dudes and ladies, attention on me for a moment,” Lee spoke up. “This only works if you do not resist so… don’t. I’ll relocate us.”

John raised an eyebrow and watched, as everyone else did, as the Fateweaver closed her eyes and concentrated. Clenching the lids shut, she concentrated on something distant. She brought both of her hands up, extended the index fingers, then brought them together.

The world around John swirled. Dimensions stretched, something ripped, and he fell through the tear. For a moment he was falling aimlessly, the next he stood in the middle of the colosseum. He, Nahua, Tach, Nach, Tachia and, of course, Lee herself.

The dark-haired woman laughed loudly and ran a hand through her hair. “That would have been so embarrassing if I did not pull it off!” she spoke, her voice a little too loud from excitement.

John bowed down next to her. “For the record, I’d prefer it if you displayed new absurd powers in secrecy,” he whispered to her.

“Can I please have this?” Lee pouted.

“They are your powers, just telling you my preference,” he surrendered the ground quickly and looked around, just to doubly confirm where they were now. “It is beyond impressive… you applied the knowledge you gained from Eternal Sanctum to open a tear between two adjacent barriers?”

“Precisely,” Lee said and wiped her forehead. “Can’t say I’ve come up with this one though. You’ve seen someone else do it before.”

That John had. The Supreme Fateweaver had done a similar thing when he had aided the Blood of the Proletariat in the invasion of Rome. That tear had been longer lasting, but Gehnigm had been assisted by his own Innate Ability to stretch and manipulate physical space. An Innate Ability that Lee had a lesser version of, hers being to place objects in a fold in space. Considering her level, maybe she was muscling in on the deceased Supreme Fateweaver’s turf.

In all cases, John was already wondering about the strategic applications of this.

The arena was empty at this hour, save for a few maids that had come from Aclysia’s academy to serve as the cleaning staff. Their arrival was noted only by those few. “Nahua, don’t kill them,” John left with a singular order, then moved up to the viewing area.

“You’re lucky your ruler is so forgiving,” Nahua remarked.

Nach spat at her feet. “The only thing he forgives is weakness. He’s making all of us suffer the inept.”

“Do you believe only the strong should live in paradise then, taking from those that are too weak to hold onto it?” The demigoddess’ face was devoid of emotion now.

“What other justice is there but the justice of the strongest?” Nach asked.

Nahua had no further words for her opponent. Her green eyes shifted to a borderline black hue. Then, the star that fell between them marked the beginning of the fight.

A magical circle spawned beneath Nahua’s feet. Standing her ground, the demigoddess glared across the divide, as the runes charged up and then unloaded in a purple wave of arcane energy. Two axes of burning might flew into the field immediately thereafter, both of them exploding into massive fireballs on impact. Ash and soot was only beginning to rise while gargantuan plant maws slammed down on Nahua’s now concealed position one after another, like a series of striking snakes.

The trio stood smiling at the end of it all.

“Pretty okay combo,” Lee commented from her seat in John’s lap.

“Not worth a whole lot against a standing opponent,” he remarked.

“M-my babies!” Tachia exclaimed. Her magically nourished plants all reared back from the cloud, teeth dripping purple goo. Empty Rot and Crimson Fever were coursing through their fibres, making their motions lethargic. Had the Digestive Plague been in the mix as well, John would have expected them to turn into goo before his eyes.

The ash cloud was gradually replaced by the noxious fumes of Nahua’s presence. For effect and effect alone, the demigoddess kept the fog thin enough for her silhouette to be visible. A shapeless glob rapidly returned to the outline of a woman. Only the outline of Nahua was still plague slime when she stepped outside of her own curtain.

Her previous outfit was gone, replaced with an outfit of black and white. A long, straight skirt with two leg slits revealed the thigh highs and the garter straps that kept them in place. Elbow gloves covered her arms, the outside facing part of the rim marked by the simplified logo of Fusion. The top was a fusion of black corset and white blouse, the stretchy fabric of the latter clinging tightly to even her petite breasts. Two decorative black strands went past the sides of her chest and up to her collar, joining a black choker around her neck.

John found it amusing and hot as hell that the reaction to seeing the uniform of his maid cadre was fear.

“Choke on your own weakness.” Nahua brought her arm up in a violent motion, sending chunks of plague goo flying from her skin. Her opponents managed to dodge most, but not all of the droplets and certainly not the fog that then spread outwards.

Nach sent more axes flying, Tach triggered more explosions, and Tachia empowered her plants even further. None of it mattered. Every strike that ripped into Nahua was an inconsequential wound that sealed in a matter of seconds.

Each enemy had already inhaled the diseases; the fight was over.

“So, let me guess what happened there,” John whispered to Lee. “You wrote Aclysia that Nahua was currently defending my honour and she then contacted Nahua and told her that she was qualified as a maid?”

“It was the whole ‘you do not deserve to use that title’ thingy that really made me send the message,” Lee confirmed. “I did not know she had already eaten the outfit though.”

John did not either, but there had been plenty of times where Nahua had been alone with each of the maids where that could have happened.

After almost ten minutes, the purple mist was now receding, pulling back into Nahua so none of the pathogens were left behind anywhere beyond the confines of the three people who now lay on the ground. Only Tach managed to stay on all fours. All three were coughing wildly in an attempt to get the disease out of their lungs. The Crimson Fever with its minor Stat decreases was of minor worry to them, but the Empty Rot was a different story. It dealt moderate damage and moderate at a 500-level difference was considerable.

Nahua placed her foot on the chest of the trap mage. One more fire trap exploded next to her, scorching her brown skin, turning it purple for a flash before regeneration turned it all normal again. “How does it feel?” she hissed. “To have your breath slowly choked out by a force you cannot resist?”

Her opponent suddenly tensed up. He turned his body as much as he was permitted and retched repeatedly, barely managing to cough out a thick glob of disgusting bodily fluids that was blocking his windpipe. “Pleashe…” he pressed out. The Intensified disease made the thin parts of his skin even thinner by the second. His knuckles and upper cheeks began to bleed ichor and puss as they rotted.

“Please what?” Nahua hissed. “Please cure me? Please spare me? Please, just please have mercy on you weak, pathetic thing? Soulless cur, demanding privileges when they benefit you and begging for mercy when it does not. Through time, place and culture, your kind disgusts me… Do you not hold your views dear enough to die for them?! Can you sacrifice nothing?!”

Nextloaolli appeared in its wielder’s hand, accompanied by the rhythmic banging and plonking of drums and piano notes. The curved dagger shone with dull, iridescent light, elevating its stone-like blade even in the advanced dusk of this autumn evening.

John did nothing but watch. ‘I believe in you,’ he thought to himself, tracking the dagger as she squatted down and brought it to Nach’s throat. One slice was all she needed. In a way it would have been a mercy. Every second she laboured on indecision, the bodies of her enemies were decaying further. Nach had it the worst, the Intensified Empty Rot delivering more damage with every tick on its way to the elevated threshold.

“…GAH!” Nahua screamed in frustration and violently got on her feet. Nextloaolli flew to the side, sinking halfway into the ground. She left the weapon there on her way to the edge of the arena. “Rot in obscurity or pray my Master continues to have a fool’s mercy!” she declared and raised up her hands.

The disease coursing through the trio’s systems left them harmlessly. Three streams consolidated into a plague peach above the axolotl maid’s palm. With it in hand, she leapt up to where John and Lee were waiting.

“…Should I eat this…?” she muttered, first looking at the purple fruit, for a moment at them, and then back towards it. The descendant of gluttony had inclinations that could be intuited by her nature.

“I don’t know what the proper answer to that is,” John told her. “Are you overindulging or are you denying yourself something you earned?”

Nahua did not know what the proper answer to that was either. “…Have an eye on me, John,” she spoke.

“Always,” he promised her.

Then, she tasted sweet victory.