The meeting room was dedicated to the purpose. Two couches and an armchair surrounded a long, low table on three sides. The intent was to have two parties meet, with a potential negotiator at the side. Primary colours of the environment were a simple grey, deep blue, and black. On its own, that was a rather depressing combination, so it was lightened up by potted plants, silver inlays, and the natural veins that went through the marble floor. Even with all of that, or perhaps because of that deliberate attempt to force life into the clean environment, the entirety of the room had a corporate feel to it.

John would have been tempted to do something about it, had the soullessness not fit with the institution. A secret service was a fundamentally necessary evil that large organizations entertained because whoever lacked it would be easily exploited by those who had them. In that sense, the secret service was a lot like the military. Where an armed force could have been justified, especially in the Abyss, by threats other than other organizations, covert operatives existed solely for the purpose of hindering the interests of an enemy tribe.

The areas where the Fusion military operated were generally designed with the intent of appearing as sinister as the purpose of them was. It was only fitting that the secret service followed the train of thought. Spy wars were ultimately a pragmatic craft.

“My suitor,” Nightingale greeted him in a relieved tone.

John could imagine why. If he wanted to, he could have blackmailed her something fierce at this point. With the cure for Delicia’s deadly condition in his care, he was the only one who could avert what had previously been a hopeless situation. If she had read him wrong, then she’d have to consider what she was willing to give at this point.

At least that was what John thought that tone was about. It could also have been that she was relieved Delicia’s cure was closer than ever. Almost more likely was that she was just thankful someone saved her from her friend’s foolishness.

John decided to operate on his first intuition, mostly because assuring her went hand in hand with their accord. “Lady Night,” he responded and knelt down before her. Carefully, he took one of her feet and kissed it above the ankle, like he would have done with a hand. The gesture made Delicia giggle and John gave her an acknowledging smirk. He knew that must have looked rather odd. “Glad to see you two have finally arrived.”

While Nightingale responded, John moved to the other couch. “We were delayed, Delicia insisted on eating all the meals she desired.”

“I got through a third of them maximum,” the alchemist sighed and patted her belly. Not that there was a lot to pat there. Even filled with food, she had a stunningly narrow midriff, considering the size of her assets. Her hips were broad, way broader than was normal for her size. Had it not been for her top half, her ass and thighs would have looked disproportionate. Said bust was not just big, it was enormous.

Delicia was wearing a sleeveless top that was held up only by two straps going over her shoulders. She was, rather obviously, not wearing a bra. The result of those two factors was that her massive mammaries were displayed as a very deep cleavage. When she fanned air into her face, every little movement made them jiggle about. They were as large as Salamander’s, on a frame over 30 centimetres shorter.

John would have had his ass-man stance compromised by the display of the shortstack, had it not been for the sickening patch of yellow and deep purple that travelled from her neck down to the left shoulder and vanished under her cloth, presumably continuing to the ribcage. The rot he had previously observed, spurred on by her flesh rejecting her soul and vice versa, had likely been healed and resurfaced elsewhere several times since he had met her. As he understood her disease, the overall size of the rotten area would continue to increase, until she would rot away alive.

A fate he wished on some people, but definitely not her.

“You’re staring even more this time. You really like these, don’t you?” Delicia asked, putting her right arm under her boobs and deliberately pushing them up. Those mouth-watering twin-spheres of mankind’s hopes and dreams nearly stretched the black top to the point of transparency. “I mean, I totally get it, I would look at myself too. Big pervy celebrity that you are, you probably can’t keep your eyes off me.”

“I really can’t,” John responded earnestly. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Ah?” Delicia froze for a moment. She blushed the slightest bit and grinned simultaneously. “Knew it,” she said, a bit weaker than John would have expected. She played with her short hair. Its colour was odd. It probably had been blond once, but now sported a light grey overtone.

‘Weak to honesty, noted,’ the Gamer thought.

“What’s up with this place anyway?” Delicia quickly changed the topic. This was the second time they had met and she was still talking to him without worry. Her blue eyes stared at him unashamedly.

“I wanted to talk at a place where it was unlikely we’d have to deal with someone swooping in and stealing the Sylkarion at the last moment. It was either here or my Palace.” He looked at Nightingale. “Here felt more appropriate for business.”

The harpy nodded approvingly, while Delicia raised her left arm. Halfway up, she inhaled sharply, dropped it, and then used the right instead. With comedic intensity, she waved off. “No, no, I mean the name of this place. Nightfall? What’s up with that?”

“It’s the name of the secret service.”

“…Hey, Gale, are you sure you didn’t sell my soul to the devil or something?” the shortstack alchemist asked flippantly, looking back and forth between her friend and John. “Because he wants to put my soul in a stone and has a secret service called ‘Nightfall’.”

“He’s a devil, albeit not a dangerous one.” Nightingale raised the corner of her right wing in front of her lips and chuckled with all the grace befitting of a famous songstress. “I confess interest in the name as well. How was it chosen?”

“I was torn between giving it some inoffensive name like the Fusion Intelligence Service and something more befitting of the fantasy world I find myself in. Ultimately, with Fusion’s elemental focus, I decided that something related to the concept of shadow would be most fitting. It does sound a bit edgy, but I’d rather have a bit of edge than be dull.” He looked to Nightingale. “The similarity to your name is pure coincidence.”

A second door leading into the room opened at that moment. In came Aclysia and Claire, the latter pushing along a cart that held a vast display of cakes and other sweets. The two maids rapidly placed 90% of the sweets in front of Delicia, who grabbed a fork and dug in randomly. Nightingale was given a bottle of water and a cupcake.

Their work done, the maids moved towards their Master. Claire outright jumped into his lap, cuddling up to him like an attention-starved cat. This prompted Aclysia to grab her protégé by the neck and drag her over the backrest. With disappointed squeals, the vampire maid took the position next to Aclysia behind their Master.

Nightingale amusedly raised an eyebrow at the entire ordeal, her lips still hidden behind her wing. Carefully, she picked up the dark chocolate cupcake with her talons and raised it to her mouth. From the side, Delicia glanced over and laughed heartily. “You know you have hands these days, yeah?”

“I am comfortable in my feathers,” the harpy responded after swallowing her first bite.

Whatever Delicia’s response to that was, John found it utterly inaudible. The alchemist was busy loading fork after fork of the various cakes into herself. Despite her full mouth, Nightingale understood perfectly.

“Concentrate on your meal, thankless brat.” Another muffled response. The harpy sighed. “I have my doubts about that.”

John cleared his throat and shifted the attention of the room back to himself. “To get to the matter at hand,” he said, reaching into the Guild Bank inventory. The magic answered his demand and manifested the medium sized object in his hand. Seconds later, he placed it on the table.

It was only about as large as a plate. The bottom part was shaped like a shallow bowl, with a flat bottom, only about a golf ball wide. A handle was attached to the outer rim and curved towards the centre. The end of the handle thickened and a spike threateningly protruded from the outside of the handle. Although the shape of the Sylkarion was merely intriguing, the mixture of swirling colours, created by unalloyed Collimets, caused an aura of true power.

Delicia stuffed half a cheesecake into her face before wiping her hands off. One of her eyelids fluttered in the process, another clear display how much movement of her left side tortured her. Regardless, she moved smoothly, taking the Sylkarion and turning it in her hands. After swallowing, she asked, “So, how does this work?” Her blue eyes dashed from the object, to John, and then Claire. “You used this before, right?”

“Affirmative,” Claire said, causing John to give her an amused glance.

‘Picking up Aclysia’s jargon, are we?’ he thought to himself. Claire must have understood what was going through his head and gave him a little wink.

“It’s pretty simple, really,” the vampire maid continued. “You just grip the handle and drive the thorn into your palm. Then your body seizes up. Your soul gets extracted from your body and reshaped into a solid core, which can then be put into a metal body with a little help from an outside force.”

“The body is left behind?” Delicia asked, still turning the Sylkarion in her hands.

“Yup,” Claire responded without a care.

“Nice, I got something to donate to the sciences then.”

“Delicia…” Nightingale weighed in, her tone judgemental.

“Aww, are you worried about my… I don’t even know what I would call that... my former shell?” Delicia started in a teasing tone and ended more contemplating. “Whatever, it’s more useful to check if something can be learned from it before we toss it in the ground.”

“It’s your current body.”

“And it has been rejecting me for several years, so I’m not feeling bad about mistreating it.” The shortstack alchemist put the Sylkarion back on the table and grabbed a chocolate-cherry cake in its stead. “Why are you so serious about what I do with my body?”

“I aim for you to treat yourself with more respect.”

“You’re cute that way.”

Nightingale let out an exasperated sigh. It was interesting to watch their social dynamic in full swing and John kept quiet throughout most of it. He was learning so much about both of them through these interactions. “Can you be serious?”

“I am serious!” Delicia responded with overplayed offense. “You’re just way too serious. Come on, cheer up a little.” She poked Nightingale in the ribs. “There’s my cure right there, time for some levity.”

“I… stop… stooooop!” Nightingale squealed in a thoroughly unladylike fashion, as she was bullied onto her side by the constant poking. Despite their size and power difference, Delicia somehow made it on top and tickled the harpy to the point that she actually started to laugh wildly. “I… hate youuuuuu…”

“Oh really, do you really now?” Delicia asked with a bratty smile on her lips.

John loved everything about what he was seeing, from Nightingale on her back and the shortstack on top of her. He couldn’t help but laugh at the display. “You two are adorable,” he commented.

The words distracted Delicia for a moment, which was all Nightingale needed to get one of her legs between them. Carefully, she pushed the alchemist off her and sat back up. “I am deeply embarrassed about this showing, my suitor,” she said apologetically. Swiftly, she hid her full, black lips behind her wing again.

“Don’t be.” John smirked and put his arms on the backrest. He grabbed the hands of the two maids behind him. The little gesture of appreciation netted him a diligent smile and a gleeful hum. “I’d love to see more of that side from you. One thing after the other, however. Delicia.”

“Ay?” the shortstack asked, leering at a piece of cake on her fork. She hadn’t even finished a third of what she had ordered, but that hadn’t been the point of her potentially last meal anyway. Despite the limits of her stomach, she swallowed that bit of sweetness as well.

“We have a minor problem at the moment,” he told her. “Because of how my powers function, I’m currently incapable of contracting another Spirit, Artificial or Natural, so the set of choices I can present to you are more limited than I wish. As far as I can see, I can offer you three options. Number one is that you delay using the Sylkarion until I have one such slot ready – which will probably take another month or two.”

“…not particularly into that option, my next trip to the bathroom will be hell,” Delicia confessed.

“I advised not to gorge,” Nightingale weighed in.

“Hey, I thought I was going to be a metal girl by the end of today!”

“Second option,” John continued, “you do use the Sylkarion right now and become a core. Claire here assures me that, without outside stimuli, you spend most of the time in that state in something akin to a deep sleep. I would put you somewhere safe and you would spend the time until I can contract you, practically, in stasis.”

“Let me guess, third option is that I’ll just go to someone else for the contracting?” Delicia asked.

The Gamer confirmed with a slow nod. “It might not even be necessary to contract you at all. The Ironborn functioned in their bodies without being directly linked to Arkeidos, so it stands to reason that there is a way to make that work. I simply do not know. Assuming it’s not possible, or would require extensive research first, taking a contract with someone else has the advantage of being immediate. Taking a contract with me comes with all of the benefits of being hooked up to my system for a little while.”

“Can you line those out for me?” Delicia requested. For about five minutes, he told her, in general terms, about the Perks Artificial Spirits generally got. By the end of it, Delicia showed a smug grin. “Lemme get this right: you get to flirt with me through mental connection and in return I get to be a monster girl?”

“If you’d like that.” John shrugged. “You can shut yourself off from the mental network, that’s always an option.” Moving his hands from holding those of his maids to squeezing their butts, he added, “I won’t lie, I’d like to know you better. A lot better, potentially. If you stick with me, I will try to convert you into another monster girl maid.”

Delicia shifted around on the couch, averting her face but keeping her eyes trained on him as she blushed and smiled. “Are you in such desperate need for some top-heaviness among your servants?”

“No, I just think you’re very interesting,” John told her earnestly and watched her blush intensify. “The point is, I’d like to hang out with you and this gives me an excuse. Once the opportunity arises, several months from now most likely, you can take your out. I promise it will be to your benefit whatever happens.”

“Okay, so… I have to wait some time for you to get your Gamer stuff ready, then I get to be sought after by the most renowned pervert in the world, turn into a monster girl of my choosing, generally become way more powerful, immortal, and can work on my experiments without ever sleeping. Did I get all of that right?”

“You’ll be sought after whatever you do, with tits like that,” John responded flippantly.

“I mean… uhm… yeah, nice of you to notice,” Delicia responded with a mixture of bashfulness and sass. “Anyway, choice is pretty obvious.” She looked to Nightingale. “See ya in a bit, Gale.”

“I will miss you.”

“Of course you will,” Delicia answered smugly.