The Horned Rat stood in front of a solid stone throne, located on top of an elevated platform. It, alongside the entirety of the rectangular room, resembled the chamber in which they had first met. Back then, it had been an almost random encounter within one of John’s early dungeon dives. Now it was entirely deliberate.

“I have struck a great many deals in this room. Struck through so many years.” The deep voice of the god was underlined with the squeaks of rodents, creating a disharmony of booming and shrill. Leathery, the palm of his clawed hand caressed the armrest of the throne. His tail, almost as long as the entire rest of his body, moved quietly on the floor. “Few of them I had as much investment in as I have in the ones that connect us, John Newman.”

John closed the door of the I.D. Gate behind him. A card had allowed him to step into this Unbound Barrier. He had been handed it in the Midnight Forest, following a short initial phone call with the Horned Rat. The god had suggested it was best to have this talk in person and John could only agree. How the card had gotten there was a question with a multitude of unnerving answers. Certain was only that the god had influence there. Deeply unsurprising and yet an unwelcome fact.

The god of future calamity turned around. His hunched figure pronounced the bare skull he had for a head. Its colour was tinted slightly yellow, the shape a mixture of rat, dog and goat, in both the elongated design and the bare teeth. Two straight horns extended up and backwards, two screwed ones to the side. As he sat down, the outline of those four horns and the lowered snout looked remarkably similar to a pentagram. All about the grey-furred creature was an ill omen.

Red eyes flickered in otherwise empty sockets, contrasting starkly with the fleshy inside of his mouth. A monstrous tongue lashed out, tasted the air, and thick spit pulled between the teeth. The moment he closed his jaw again, it all appeared dry. It remained shut as he asked, “You want my aid?”

“I want whatever aid you can provide,” John gave a minor correction. “In whatever function you can.”

The red flicker flared up, creating short-lived pillars. “You remember I have great influence, yes, yes?” he asked. “Everyone knows that my reach goes far and none know how far exactly.”

John took a deep breath. Part of him wanted to reprimand Richard for trying to impress him. They were far from strangers. This occasion was special enough that he could understand the god wanting to re-establish who the Gamer was dealing with. This was no time for attempts to one-up or banter with each other. He was not talking to his adversarial ally Richard; he was talking to the dealmaker the Horned Rat.

“I suppose it would be more appropriate to state what I am willing to give for what aid you can provide?” the Gamer suggested.

“Indeed, indeed.” The Horned Rat raised one clawed hand to create an illusion. Thanks to Visions of Calamity, the lenses the god himself had made for the Gamer, John could see both reality and fiction. What was in Richard’s palm was an image of John’s head. “What are you willing to offer me? A personal favour?” The image changed to the Guild Hall. “Resources?” Next was the symbol of Fusion, six diamond shapes of different colours laid out like flower petals. “Influence on your nation?”

When John raised his voice, the image dispersed. “First, I can offer you knowledge you do not yet possess.” Intrigued, the Horned Rat leaned forwards. “You are aware why I took this journey in the first place, yes?”

“The disease of Delicia Poor, the alchemist from Hungary that managed to inflict herself with an illness rarely ever seen before and never healed,” the Horned Rat responded. “A terrible fate, to have one’s soul dislodged. Her body is wasting away like that of a lich, without a phylactery for her mind to escape to. You wished to see her cured.”

“And I found it,” the Gamer revealed.

Bones creaked, as the skull of the Horned Rat defied its solid nature in pursuit of a grin. New teeth seemed to grow between the old ones, to fill the gaps created by the growing maw. Barely, it opened, a cloud of hot, humid breath visibly rising in the lukewarm room. “You offer me the knowledge to recreate the cure?”

“More specifically, I offer you the chance to research it,” the Gamer responded. “The Ironborn are created by manifesting human souls into crystals that function the same as the cores of Artificial Spirits. Such a procedure would allow Delicia’s soul to find refuge in a body that no longer rejects it. It’s valuable far beyond that, as you would be no doubt aware.”

“Immortality for any one chosen to go through the procedure…” The Horned Rat rubbed his chin, his tail expressing excitement he did not bother to hide. “There must be drawbacks.”

“From what I observed, their Innate Abilities are retained and they can even grow stronger, within the limits of their potential. The drawback is that only Arkeidos, the Emperor of this other Kingdom, seems to be capable of creating them. It takes an intense enchantment of the six Collimets. Once completed, it can be used by anybody.”

“Then what, exactly, are you offering me?” the Horned Rat demanded to know. “From what you describe, this object may be attached to Arkeidos’ own Innate Ability.”

“It may be, but would you forgo the opportunity to try and replicate it?” John returned a question. Silence was his answer and the god’s claws drummed an impatient staccato on the armrest of his solid grey throne. “What I offer you, exactly, is that the Illuminati or just your personal followers can have free access to the facilities where Fusion will research these objects – the Sylkarions.”

“A research that may never pay off, but if it would, the reward would be… beyond incredible…” the Horned Rat suddenly shook his head. “No, a gamble of such a low likelihood of success, tied to Fusion leading the research, it is not good enough to pledge my aid. Why do you not offer me one of these Sylkarions for my own use? Even if the research fails, I would certainly extend a hand if it came with the ability to bestow immortality on someone.”

“The truth is that the number I can bring back is phenomenally limited.” John counted on his fingers. “One I am guaranteed, and it will go to Delicia. Once spent, the enchantment is gone. It may be possible to research the lingering remains, but that is not guaranteed. Beyond that, I can only bring three Slots worth of items back, a number that may increase slightly. I’d judge each Sylkarion to take one. We’ll get three of them, most likely, maybe a few more, but who knows.

“Are you certain that many are even available?”

“Arkeidos offered me ten when we first met in a deal he would not have tried to swindle me on. In general, he’s not a deceiver. He would not have suggested a bargain he could not have upheld.”

“I trust your judgement on that.” The Horned Rat’s impatient staccato was replaced with a thoughtful tapping of his index finger alone. “Of three, you are not willing to part with one?”

“Not easily,” the Gamer responded slowly. Truth of the matter was that he was always prepared to give up one. It was important to establish the value he was sacrificing in doing so.

“If you wish, if you truly wish, to stay with a research agreement alone, then I will need something more.”

Nia stepped forwards. For a moment, the Horned Rat’s eyes flickered towards her, then they flickered back to John. Even as the pariah spoke, the god kept his gaze focused on him. “To keep me safe?” she requested.

“Your safety is not a condition to be made in business,” the Horned Rat responded admonishingly. “What else do you offer me, Gamer? What securities do you have for me in case the Sylkarions beyond the one you wish to use get destroyed?”

After a final three seconds of acting like he had to consider, he responded, “Alright, you can have one of the Sylkarions for yourself. If there’s none available… I’ll provide you with a Fusional weapon.”

The Horned Rat rose from his throne. A single step took the three-metre-tall humanoid down from the stairless platform. As he approached, his figure remained at the same perceived size, until he had scaled down to John’s height. “You will have my personal aid on the day of the attack,” the Horned Rat pledged and extended his hand. “Do we have a deal?”@@novelbin@@

Even knowing the god before him, the Gamer looked at the hand with mild distrust. Having already resolved this to be necessary, he grabbed the hand offered. The claws of the Horned Rat pressed into his flesh, their texture akin to the horns of a bull, rough and layered. No magic was associated with the squeeze. None had ever been used during their dealings. Maybe it didn’t exist or maybe the Horned Rat kept it for untrustworthy associates.

“We have a deal,” John confirmed and their hands parted.

“You should ask Sol what her master wants before you accept her aid,” the Horned Rat recommended and turned back to his throne. With every step, he grew closer to his previous size, sitting back on the grey throne at an appropriate stature.

“You think Romulus will send Sol?” John asked, his forehead in wrinkles.

“He will try to outcompete me and draw you closer into his circle of associates.” The deal made, Richard slouched in his throne, head resting on his knuckles and tail flopping from the opposite armrest. “Something he is welcome to try.”

John clicked his tongue, mildly annoyed by the tone of the god. “You sound so incredibly certain that I will always be your ally.”

“Circumstances will align you with me when I care about it, for you and I share the answers to many of the ultimate questions.” The Horned Rat made a wide gesture. “Unless you changed your mind and you wish to aid Romulus in his attempts to tear down the barrier between the magical and the mundane?”

“There’s more between local and global affairs that may affect you,” the Gamer cautioned.

“You owing Romulus a favour will not shift the balance of power between nations.” The grey-furred humanoid yawned. Even as his maw was wildly parted, he continued speaking. “And you would never favour the Sons of Rome over the Illuminati. It is in Fusion’s interest to keep Europe divided.”

John hated it when someone was right when it came to predicting his behaviour. Only when it came to whether or not he would squeeze the curves of an attractive woman was he fine with being read. Regardless of what he liked, the Horned Rat was absolutely correct. Incentives as they were, Fusion, and by extension John, stood nothing to gain from a united Europe. All that would provide him with was a power that could potentially strongarm him. Better to have it and the majority of the old world squabbling amongst themselves.

It was truly to John’s advantage that the only other power on his half of the globe capable of stopping him were the literal Nazis. Not only were they in the southern hemisphere, they were also so morally unpalatable to the rest of the world that supporting them was a no-go. Certainly, it was common for nations to disregard morality when a rival got big enough, but John doubted he would reach a size where Romulus, the Horned Rat, or anyone else would rather have the Purest Front grow in global influence.

“You’re certain he’d send Sol?”

“Of his two goddesses, she’s the more dispensable,” the Horned Rat stated dismissively. “If I gave you the task to send either Aclysia or Momo to a warzone, the decision would be easy. Luna is a goddess of death, Sol is a goddess of life, yet their destructive capabilities are about the same. Low and high, for their respective category. What Luna has, which Sol doesn’t, is a brain. She’s an obtuse, annoying, aggressive bore.” The Horned Rat sat up and stated the obvious, “I hate her.”

“Too bad for you that you’ll have to fight by her side.”

“The battlefield will be vast, no doubt; I will have priorities away from her burning gaze.” A dismissive wave made clear that he was done with this conversation. “I have affairs to arrange. I trust you will prepare a briefing for everyone on the day of the assault, so our tactical conversation will be delayed until then.”

“Alright, I will leave you to it then.” The Gamer nodded and turned around. There was an oaken door, set unfittingly into the blank stone of the walls. John opened it and gestured for Nia to step through first.

The pariah looked at the god that had raised her. “Thank you.”

“A deal is nothing to thank me for,” Richard stated, the red in his sockets dimmed as if he had his eyes closed. There were no further words between them. With a simple goodbye, John followed Nia out of the room.