“This is a crime against architecture,” Romulus complained.

John raised a bemused eyebrow. It was beyond understandable. Their path had been nonsensical. What had initially appeared to be a winding staircase straight upwards had turned out to be a segmented mess. Every now and again the staircase would end and lead into a complex. Said complex then had to be explored to discover the next staircase upwards. Sometimes that exploration included going down.

It was a typical game design trick to utilize the limited space within a structure to its fullest potential – or to hide that whatever was inside the asset was way larger than it was from the outside.

That this was frustrating to someone uninitiated to game mechanics was understandable. That the Apex, of all people, chose to voice it was what made it funny.

John chose not to comment on it, instead following along while they advanced further. His steps came to an abrupt halt when the Apex was ambushed from three directions. Skeletons with short spears and great shields charged in from the flanks. Romulus stopped them with his clenched fists, their heavy protections bouncing away from the counterforce.

In a rapid motion, Romulus swung the Sea Sword at the two skeletons in front of him. They were armed with swords, but had them lowered for their charge. Brine and the cutting edge of the sword met both skeletons at the throat.

Rather than break at the impact, they were flung back. Romulus attempted to pursue, but the flanking enemies stabbed at him with their spears. The Apex was actually forced to take two steps backwards. Such tactical retreats were becoming more common as the Raid Segment progressed, placing enemies with ever greater synergy in their paths.

The sword skeletons picked themselves up and took to the middle of the formation again. Rather than immediately assailing Romulus again, the four enemies formed a quarter circle. They would have pincered the Apex, had he stood there and waited.

Romulus raised a hand and conjured an earthen projectile. Magically, the dense rock was launched from between his clawingly bent fingers. A loud CRACK bounced off the burned walls. Shattered skull fragments turned into dust as they fell.

The remaining three skeletons immediately charged forwards. Romulus exploited the gap in their formation, advancing into it, and swinging at the side of the second sword skeleton as he did. As with all the previous skeletons, two direct hits were all they could take. A difference that already forced the Apex to take more cautious steps. Between an enemy that got no chances to counterattack and an enemy that got one chance to counterattack was a vast, vast gulf in threat level.

Staying nimble on his feet, the giant of a man dodged the aggressive thrusts of the two spearmen. One withdrew, the other stabbed, back and forth with mechanical precision. They were attempting to drive Romulus into a corner, to box him in between the walls and their shields. Romulus had to acknowledge the efficacy of that approach by calling on more than casual elementalism.

Romulus lunged. The sole of his right foot hit the ground with a crystalline ring. A wave of intense frost rippled outwards, overcoming even the fire of the spearmen. Frozen to the floor, the skeletons were suddenly incapable of advancing or adjusting their footing. Romulus tackled the left skeleton, slamming his shoulder into the surface of the shield. It bent at the knees, falling over backwards like a poorly balanced machine.

The other skeleton attempted to stab at Romulus, but he wisely chose to go around the shield-carrying side. Once he was behind the grounded undead, he just had to swipe at its back twice. Dispatching the last shield bearer afterwards was a simple affair.

“The architecture is for ambushes, not efficiency,” Luna tutted afterwards.

“Evidently,” Romulus agreed, then continued further on.

They had been in this complex for over eight hours now. Over half a Raid day was spent trying to work out how this absurd structure functioned. John also spent some time puzzling over the narrative of it all. This simulated world was evidently split between the Skinwalkers on one side and the humans that were, justifiably, paranoid on the other. The undead appeared to be guardians of some sort, preventing the Skinwalkers below from invading what lay at the end of the complex.

It was a fortress.

A creaky pair of cellar doors had to be pushed open to allow them to exit. Stepping out into the dreary light, they smelled the distant sea. Waves broke against the cliff now far below them. A minor background noise that mixed effortlessly with the burning all around.

The fortress was set alight. Ritualistic torches stood between derelict buildings. Once, the fortress had been formidable. The outer walls were intact, looming tall above the structures built in the protective embrace. Impoverished people squatted in the rotted, scorched houses, stirring mud soup with rusty ladles.

“They aren’t real,” John reminded the Apex.

“I know,” Romulus answered, tearing his gaze away from the humans and directing it on the path ahead of them. Two more patrols of skeletons blocked the final stretch to a massive plaza. A sign that said ‘BOSS FIGHT HERE!’ may as well have been located on top of it.

After a few minutes of fighting, they stepped onto the scorched and splintered cobblestone. The plaza separated the village in the outer layer of the fortress from the tall castle within. A lowered portcullis denied them a way to skip on the boss, who stood on an elevated platform made of stone at the centre of it all.

It was another undead. Embers rose from underneath ornate robes. Drapes of cloth covered the monster, gloves and shoes hid the skeletal state of the extremities, but the skull was displayed openly. The eternal grin was distorted, the right half of the upper jaw pulled up after having molten and settled oddly. The top of the skull was a… crown? John struggled to find a correct word for it. The bone had been repeatedly liquified, stretched, spread, separated, and otherwise manipulated, to the point that it looked like a dead tree was growing from the monster.

The empty eye sockets were staring eternally at a flame burning on a tablet he carried. There was no real source to the fire and it did not appear to spread heat to the metal around it. It simply was.

[AI Image:  Flame and a World Disease… as grimdark as ever,’ John thought and scanned the environment. The plaza around them was clearly separated into four areas. Trotted paths delineated the edges and unlit braziers the centres of the segments. ‘Some kind of sacrifice mechanic, probably?’

Romulus stepped forwards and the rest of the party advanced. For this, John stayed close to the Apex. He did not want to get locked out of the boss arena.

“Ah, new sacrifices… always new sacrifices…” the Herald Veneer spoke in a croaking tone. “Meat to scorch, meat to scorch… bring in the blood and gore to sacrifice! The Curse Flame is salvation!”

The boss suddenly looked upwards. With his gaze rose infernal undead. All around the plaza, they stood up as fire, bone, and wheels of cast iron. Armed with spears, they formed a circle around the area. ‘So it’s one of these walls,’ John thought, backing away before he could get stabbed.

Romulus charged at the boss monster.

Brine once more hissed as it came into contact with the fire-infused creature. As was usual for boss monsters, even a direct hit barely registered for its balance. To remain threatening, the poise such creatures possessed negated most openings. This was especially true for beings like the Herald Veneer, who had a certain spot on the battlefield they were mechanically anchored to.

Usually this was the part of the fight where John began to read what was happening around him. He would start various timers in his head, spread out various ways of getting multiple views of the battlefield, and begin formulating the mechanics of the Raid and his countermeasures to them.

The futility of all of that was beautifully illustrated by a group of adds that spawned in. Soldiers, the same kind of soldiers that had aided the second boss of the Raid, came in through a quickly opened gap in the ring of skeletons. Two rows of eight each, that were neatly obliterated by a blast of frozen light.

Braziers left and right of the path they had come through lit up as their blood fed into the soil. It was a weak flame, barely more than glowing coals. In the same moment, the Herald Veneer manifested a halo of weak embers behind its large crown and a fire elemental appeared at the foot of the platform.

‘Definitely a sacrifice mechanic,’ John thought. A salvo of spells loosened from the halo, raining down on the battlefield. It was easily dodged, even in this body. It wouldn’t stay that way if the brazier continued to get sacrifices.

Even if there was little point to it, John analysed the battle. This one had a simple base. Four segments, four braziers, for abilities that would grow stronger the more of the adds died in their specific areas. This kind of fight had a decent amount of complexity in practice. On one side it was a DPS check, testing if they could kill the boss before the stacking damage got too much. On the other side, it allowed a decent amount of customization by identifying which one of the four mechanics they could easiest deal with and then allowing that one to stack the most.

John’s only task in the battle was to stay out of the path of the spawning adds. Romulus obliterated them each time with a powerful blast of his magic. Each attack reminded John of the one he had used to take the Construct of Order out of the Warsaw skies. They were lesser versions of that one, a Babel Phrase removed from the full power of the Apex. Romulus was fighting as seriously as he could without going all out.

‘So, we have a fire elemental that spawns whenever a number of enemies get sacrificed, area attacks that strike periodically with growing strength and density, electricity strikes that increase in frequency, and a buff to the boss’ physical prowess,’ John listed the effects to himself.

Even with that last one in effect, the Herald Veneer failed to strike back at Romulus. A sword of bone and iron had appeared in the boss’ hand. It clashed with that of the Apex, but never got past the guard. The pinnacle of the Abyss duelled the boss monster atop the platform. Could it have fallen off, it would have many times over.

Eventually, the second phase started. In lockstep, the skeleton ring advanced two paces. It constricted the arena considerably. Under regular circumstances, that would have made the fight much harder. Less space to dodge area attacks that had become quite dangerous by that point was never good. Sadly, for the designer of the fight, the equation wasn’t matching up to expectations. Romulus’ damage output exceeded projections, leaving the back row with relatively weak attacks to deal with.

John was happy he at least had something to dodge though, otherwise he would have died of boredom.

Another change in the second phase, and this one was actually important, was that the add spawns changed from 8 soldiers to 4 skeletons. No longer could Romulus blow up the enemies in one swift spell strike. That still did a lot of damage, but it wasn’t quite enough. It also was no excuse for John to throw in his weight. He was instead treated to watching Sol take care of the adds.

That, at least, was a change of pace. Watching the goddess fight was new. He had seen her throw the occasional support spell here and there. This was different. Clenched, gauntleted fists slammed into skeletons with the power of one sun. Plenty of power, as far as John was concerned, and the crumbling enemies were forced to agree.

‘Somehow I did not believe she really was a fist fighter,’ the Gamer thought. He had heard as much from Nathalia and Nightingale. The former obviously had a lot more experience with Sol, and if John had to measure the two up against each other… Nathalia was stronger. The dragoness had boasted she had killed Sol before. A feat that had happened with the contracted elemental far away from her summoner. Still, just from looking, he wagered that his goddess was stronger.

And, yes, that did make him feel good.

‘I should feed Nathalia grapes,’ he thought. The embodiment of volcanoes deserved to be treated like the goddess she was. As the gap between them shrunk to nothing, power wise, John wanted her to be validated in maintaining her aristocratic air. That she was making the effort to be less arrogant was highly appreciated. Her ego was also part of her charm. He also believed that it was, in a roundabout way, good for the harem to have a woman in it that demanded things rotated around her.

Every organization required people that led and with how big the harem was, just him and Rave doing that was not enough. Nathalia assuming that authority to herself was a step not everyone could make, for worse and for better.

After ten minutes of dodging attacks and watching Romulus duel the Herald Veneer, the fight came to a simple end. Romulus landed one more hit and the boss simply crumbled away into nothing. The skeletons around followed moments thereafter. All of the ash pulled together into a chest at the food of the platform. The portcullis rose, allowing access to the castle.

“Loot time it is then,” John said, mild disappointment in his voice.

“Distracting you from thinking about Nathy’s tits?” Metra asked with a grin.

“Yes,” the Gamer admitted plainly and tapped away the message in the air. The mental image of them bouncing lived rent free in his head, among many other aspects of his harem. Nightingale’s throat was also high up there. A harpy’s oral invitation, the Gamer had come to realize, was a powerful thing.

“Pervy Master,” Ehtra muttered.

“You love him.” Nia’s voice was as neutral as ever, causing the First of Hatred to raise an eyebrow.

“What do I even do with you?” she asked.

Aclysia put Marice into her Adaptive Bladery, then quickly hugged John’s arm again. One of her fingers trailed over the edge of his chin. The black fabric of the maid uniform’s glove was smoother than satin. She was cold, but heated up quickly. “I, for one, believe Master’s perversion to be a wonderful trait.”

“Of course you do,” Metra drawled sarcastically.

“Shush now, or I am assigning Beatrice to clean up after you.”

“Oh, that’s fucked up!” The First of Wrath tapped her shoulder with the haft of Rex Magnar. “Sic’ing the humourless robot on me is total overkill, refrigerator dragon.”

“Perhaps you should humbly accept Master’s perfection?” Aclysia suggested.

Metra rolled her eyes. “And rob us all of my charming criticisms?”

Romulus had lifted the lid while they bantered. He, Sol and Luna were having their own little talk, all while handing the various items to John for identification.

In the Common Category they had Unscorched Robes twice and one Necklace of Fire Immunity. The former was solid, providing bonuses to Mental Stats. The latter gave the wearer outright Fire Immunity and nothing else… which was still something to consider.

Uncommon had two Cursebone Bark, an Accursed Scepter, and a Ledger of Sacrifices. The first was a crafting material, the other two items good for mages.

Rare had one Forgetting Pendant and one Crystallized Joy. Both items were worrisome. The Forgetting Pendant gradually eroded a person’s memories until they were a blank slate of a being. There was no set time to this, likely putting it against the wearer’s willpower. The Crystallized Joy, on the other hand, could be used to permanently alter someone’s brain chemistry to be happy. Not in a ‘depression fixing’ way. It was permanent, forced joy without any escape. He might as well have wiped away someone’s humanity.

Epic held one Oblivium Chunk and one World Disease Shard.

“These ought to be destroyed,” Romulus said, in reference to both Rare items. John tended to agree. “Are items like this frequent?”

“Not particularly and I rarely keep them around.”

“Rarely?” Luna asked, sharply.

“I don’t think I have to explain to you the utility of having horrid weapons in your back pocket,” John answered simply. “Peace occurs when the cost of killing one another is too high.”

“Cynic,” Sol criticized.

John just shrugged, he already knew that he was less optimistic about the world than those three. The way he had answered would also make them think he had worse items in his back pocket than he actually did. A fully intended consequence. John was willing to lose some respect from Romulus in exchange for caution. He would rather have a cold peace than an amicable war.

“Nia, can you destroy those two items for us?” he requested. The pariah stepped away from the other three haremettes. It had turned into a three way discussion where Aclysia and Ehtra teamed up on Metra regarding her lack of manners, Metra and Ehtra teamed up on Aclysia regarding her worship, and Metra and Aclysia teamed up on Ehtra regarding her ‘tsundere attitude’.

“I will be over there,” Nia said, gesturing at an empty spot a few metres away.

While the pariah stared the items into non-existence, John watched Romulus put his share of the items aside. Expectedly, he took the crafting materials – including the Oblivium Chunk. A hefty loss, but one John could live with. It was another item entering Romulus’ choices that had the Gamer hesitate.

Romulus noticed. He raised the item again before it could be put on the floor. It was a red crystal with a blue, gold-trimmed core. The curved shape implied that it had been split off something round, a sphere of some kind.

John did not know what the World Disease entity was (although he was willing to bet he was going to find out before the Raid was over). What he did know was written in the Attribute.

This was horrifying. It was kept somewhat in check because of two things. One, as a magical disease, it was curable by equally magical means. Second, this item was one use only. In some ways that made it weaker than the two Rare items. The thing was just that John had a potential way to make it not one use. If Nahua ate this, there was a chance she unlocked it as a disease of her own via Plague Glutton.

“I have use for it,” John said simply.

Romulus looked at him for a few seconds, then handed the item over. “I am your guest, in the end,” he stated his rationale. Considering he himself had not advocated for the destruction of that item, he had no moral high ground to stand on. He did not try either. “I believe you will do nothing horrid with it.”

A flattering display of trust.