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A sensation like falling, and swimming? That would be drowning, John, but you're not doing any of those things. Your internal organs were nearly ruptured, your ribcage was in tatters, and you've blacked out from the pain. You're dying, John. But you're not dead, not yet. Who's fault was this? Certainly wasn't mine, I can promise you that. Certainly... I mean, this was just stupid. What did you think would happen? Unless you're such a novice that couldn't just... whatever... stop showing off, loser. You can't win me over just like that... I hate you... I swear I hate you...

"Shut up, Fairy..."

"... What?"

"Did-! Did he speak?!"

Voices, once heard through something like bog water filling his ears and drowning his brain, now rang clear. His eyes flickered open, and then screwed shut again at the offensive light shining above. His head was mush, and a dull ache in his abdomen made it feel like his whole body was a bruise, but he managed to inhale breath from both lungs, even the one that was previously collapsed. Did he die? Was he now in Heaven, where the light was blinding? No... no, he was... collecting soiled panties, stolen from unsuspecting girls he had **** with the help of his tiny devil woman. No, Heaven probably had rules against at least two of those things. Did Hell invest in white lighting? Seemed off-theme for Satan, John felt...

"Oh God, oh thank the Lady, oh thank God, oh-!"

"Please be quiet. My healing matrix hasn't resolved yet. It took this long to key into his Pattern, and I will double my rate if I have to spend another half-hour re-calibrating to do it again."

John coughed, and his tongue and mouth seemed to expect blood that never came. A hammer. Right. A hammer... went way too deep into him, deeper than it should, deep like a cannon at point blank on a fragile eighteen year old perverted gamer. That added up in John's muddled mind as to how he got here, and it helped him slowly regain the fragments of what happened: he transposed, a skill he didn't even have until the last conscious seconds of his life, and a skill he'd probably hesitate to use from now on. John groaned as one final rib grew into place, securing his healed organs once again. Healing in video games never seemed to feel this bad. His "game" sucked, he decided for all of five seconds... and then he remembered Miss Summers.

"There, he's stabilized... mostly."

"... and thank the Lady- wait, what? What do you mean mostly?!"

John's eyes fluttered open, blinked away the irritating pain of the fluorescent lighting above, and looked around. He appeared to be in some kind of bare-bones office, laying on a table covered in Academy floor plans and various memorandum for the staff. The walls were pitted concrete, stained nearly to black with age and whatever else grew inside the janitor's office. Looking around, he finally identified one of the two voices:

Lady Moira Brighton
Lvl17 paladin
<Warden of the Golden Rose>
700/700hp
51/100mp
Status Effects: Slime-Poisoned (26 hours remaining)
Relationship: -99 (-20)

Moira Brighton, the woman who nearly killed him, was sitting on the green staff couch on the other side of the office, her eyes and cheeks were red; she had been crying. Now that she wasn't a menacing killing machine from Warcraft, the redhead seemed such a normal, sexy student at the Academy, albeit emotionally distressed... and apparently quite upset with him. Why was there a -20 modifier, though? Another mystery for John... along with whatever "slime-poison" did. It seemed insane that she was a smiting warrior when he last saw her... and now he finally realized what was missing: the summon he tried to save wasn't around. Fairy, are you there? Silence. Was his pain for nothing? He tried to raise up on his elbows, and a figure moved into view from where it stood a moment ago. Thin fingers gently, but firmly, pressed on his bare chest, and now is when he realized he was stripped down to his boxer-shorts.

"Lay back down," came the dispassionate command, "I'm not finished with you." He looked up, and finally found the second voice who was toiling out of view until now.

Tricia Gorbachev
Lvl9 Scythian healer
<Gorbachev Opekuny>
HP 150 / 150
MP 247 / 385
Status Effects: Eye of Gorbachev (closed)
Relationship: 0

"Your skin still has lacerations and bruising from the... trauma... you just experienced. You'll be better in a minute." John looked at the petite, odd schoolmate who pushed him back down. Though not as stacked or as tall as the redhead who almost murdered him, Tricia had a beautiful, round little face of petite features, framed by short blonde hair, a straight bang over her forehead, and a pair of green-blue eyes. Her face was occasionally lit in red, which he finally realized was thanks to the laser show playing on his stomach from a tiny helicopter drone or toy that hovered over his stomach, a massive ruby-like pyramid hanging from its otherwise mechanical frame. What John first took to be some kind of glass keyboard was, on second glance, holographic; it swiveled through the air to follow its short master as she moved around him. Though he was looking at it from the wrong end, it was obvious the runes on each key resembled nothing like modern human script.

"Thank the Lady... I thought I..." Moira's mumbling grew muffled as she buried her face in her hands.

He looked his healer over - perky B's hiding in a plain black t-shirt, a thin body, navy-blue jeans - before catching another bizarre detail: her fingertips and forearms, the lower half of her neck and possibly the rest of the body hidden in plain-clothes, was sheathed in a skintight black spandex. John finally tried to speak. "Who-"

"Quiet, I'm almost done." Her voice and face were monotone, and as much as John wanted to argue he was still in pain. Relenting, he sighed and finally decided to address his screaming character sheet.

Achievement unlocked! "I Just Died in Your Arms Tonight"!
Take what would be a mortal blow for a party member! Such bravery!
CHA +2
+1 to a skill of your choice (expires in 23 hours)

Achievement unlocked! "Who Wants to Live Forever"!
You were brought to the brink of **** and lived. Don't do that again!
END +2
1,000XP

DING!
You're now level 5!
+10hp, +10mp, +5 stat points.

Summoner's temple lvl2
Summon/Dismiss lvl2
Transpose lvl2

It was hard to celebrate this particular level-up... and looking around the room, he didn't like his odds for getting away from these sexy weirdos in one piece, even if one of them seemed to be seeing to his health. He quietly poured the points into Charisma, and considered where he could possibly use the free level. Thinking it better to not make that call under duress, he dismisses the pop-up and checks his real vitals.

39 / 155hp
100 / 100mp

Whoa. Well, that explained why he felt so stiff... looking back at the combat log in detail, he found he had been losing a point of hp every minute for about seven after he passed out... and then stopped dipping into the negative. Thirty minutes later, he started to regain them at the same rate, until finally he was back to positive hp only two minutes ago. So no regen while dying... but how far into negative can I go? Wait, did I only stop losing health because of her?

"Hey-"

"I told you to be quiet until I finish." She pressed her thumb on a central button, and the laser show turned into a solid green light for a moment.

129 / 155hp

Now we're talking! "Is he... is he recovered?"

"Enough to allow his natural healing take care of the rest," Tricia huffed dismissively. The small drone flew itself into a nearby backpack, and the keyboard folded into nothing with the slow, book-closing motion of her hands.

"Oh my God..." Moira walked up, tears in her eyes as her hands reached up towards John. "I was so scared... I... I thought I killed you-!"

Her hands softly cradle John's face, and his eyes go wide in horny shock as a beautiful girl got so intimate. Did +7 Charisma total really do this much? "W-Well, I guess it takes a lot more, haha, to-" John's words got cut off as he noticed her relationship status.

Relationship: -94 (-20)

The hands lowered, and tightened around his neck as her face transformed into fury. "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW STUPID THAT WAS?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA, ANY IDEA HOW MUCH TROUBLE I'D BE IN FOR KILLING YOUR SORRY, PERVERTED ASS?!" She violently shook him, throttling another 5 damage back into him as he starts to panic under her Herculean grip. He can already tell he wouldn't be able to muscle his way out of it... and against all understanding of his own sexuality, his cock grows rock hard and twitched as it readies to come. His eyes flutter as circulation begins to cut off from his head, and sneakily he pulls his cock and starts to give it a few pumps, marveling at how intense the pleasure was as consciousness threatened to fade.

"Harder..."

"What-" Moira flinched as something warm splashed on her hair, shoulders, and tits from somewhere above. She looked up, expecting a leak... only to see another splash of sperm arc through the air and sting her eyes. "Aaaaah!" She throws herself back in terror, cursing and wiping jizz from her eyelids as John chokes breath and blood back to where they must flow.

Moira flinched as a sheathed hand landed on her shoulder, but stopped her fist when she saw, through one open eye, the still unphased face of Tricia. "You should consider how my report for the first task might necessitate a report on why there was then a second." Moira growled convincingly enough to make John worry a bit more, but ultimately she surrendered to the healer's wishes. John watched as Moira's relationship score slammed down into a -122... and a glance at his savior saw she ticked down to -1. "... What a bizarre happenstance. A summoner, and it happens to be a pervert. What a waste of power..."

Moira, satisfied that she got it all off (she didn't), looked between the other two in confusion. "What... what are you talking about...?"

"He's a mage, as you learned when he saved his... summon."

John could only lay back and try to catch his breath, but he did manage to catch Moira's continuing confusion. Suddenly, with a relieved laugh, Moira shook a finger in the air. "... Oh, no no, that must be your word for it... you just mean his familiar."

"His summon."

"... N-No, you obviously mean his... Eidolon? Do you... people... still use that, or-"

"... I don't have time for this." Tricia was not one for expressions of emotion, it seemed, and it was with barely the slightest exasperation in how she flicked her hand that she threw a tiny green dot at the wall by John's table-made-bed, only to have it explode into a massive holographic display. There, to the shock of both the subject and the paladin, appeared a diagram of John's naked body (and presently re-erecting cock) and more of that unknown script. "His Pattern was strange, even more apart than most people touched by the Abyss... it actually delayed the healing process, which is why this took half an hour. I'm not sure how to interpret whatever he is," she continued clinically, her finger tapping lines in the scroll of mysterious text, turning them red, "but it's abnormal, even for late-blooming mages." John blinked, looking at how close his erect chub came to tapping on Tricia's belly as she leaned over him, but she wasn't so much as phased. The diagram of his body, anatomically correct as it was, zoomed into his crotch, at which point Moira looked to the side, disgusted. Inside his pecker, shocking even John, was a caricature of none other than his little fae demonica: stupidly-grinning Fairy. "While there are some peculiarities in these readings, I can at least confirm he has room for more than one abyssal entity."

Moira huffed. "Doesn't look like much room to me..."

"H-Hey!"

"Children," said the youngest-looking one, "please." The cartoon of Fairy filled the screen, and John's brand blinked over her belly button. "I can at least say with relative certainty that he has yet to make any pacts, be them with any Mage circles or even with this demon. She, on the other hand, is marked by some strange code- sorry, some strange sigil. His control over it is complete: he is a summoner, and she is his summon."

The display faded, and Tricia started to pick up her bag when John dared a chance to speak. "Look, I don't... really know what's going on here? But I know... that was an accident by the paladin-"

"The... pala...din- what the Hell are you talking about?" A snicker. Both looked at the back of Tricia's head, but she dared not turn to face them. Moira continued, "More importantly, it's no accident when you go and throw yourself in the way of my attack! Don't ever do that again, no matter who I'm smiting... even if it's your Fairy, and the Lady help her and you if I ever see her running amok at school again."

John nodded obediently, and Moira's relationship went up a full 20 points. Fickle with the ones she despises, or a dominatrix in disguise? "Anyways... thank you, Tricia. Without your healing, I... uh..."

John's words trailed off as the atmosphere changed. A silence... both girls turn to regard him, Moira with narrowed eyes and Tricia with the first emotion he had seen from her: shock. "Is... did I say something wrong?"

"How do you know her name? No one at the academy should know her real name."

"I can confirm I've never breached those terms of secrecy..."

"Oh- well, I can just... see these things. Like, I know you're both from guilds, or companies or whatever you call them. I mean, like... well you," he continued, pointing at Moira, "are a Warden of the Golden Rose." He shifted his finger to Tricia, missing how Moira's eyes near-bulged from her skull, "And you're - and I don't know how to pronounce this, but - you're a... Gorb-a-chev Opey-cuny...?" It took him a moment, but he finally noticed Moira's blatant shock... and now Tricia's dropped jaw. "Is... I mean, I'm... that's what it says, I don't really know... if that's-"

"You need to come with me after school," Moira bluntly declared. "My father will want to... speak with you." Her smile was tight and uninviting, which might be the only time those two adjectives are used for the same subject in this story.

"Do you think I'll let this security breach vanish before me, Moira? No, he certainly needs to come with me." Tricia's back straightened as she tried to seem authoritative. Moira wrinkled her nose in mock surprise. "My name and my place in the Opekuny should be a secret known only to your family in this town. If they've let it slip to someone like him of all people, then an investigation will be demanded. Otherwise, if he's being honest... well, we'll need to extract exactly how he learned this. The Blood will accept nothing less."

"E-Extract? Wait, I'm-"

"Oh? Does the novice healer think she can tell a Brighton 'no'? You would be quaint if you weren't so arrogant." To John's surprise, the shield-like brooch on Moira's jacket looked like it was growing... and sure enough, it quickly expanded into a full-sized, familiar shield, floating onto her arm... and as if she had her own inventory therein, the paladin reached too deeply into the back of her full-grown shield to pull out a familiar, terrifying warhammer.

"The Gorbachev line has survived longer than the kingdoms your brood so desperately mourn," Tricia almost whispered, brushing her bangs back and under her previously unnoticed hairband. "Young and old, we have survived this long for a reason." John thought he saw a row of tiny black lines, like a smudge, there on her forehead... and, to John's horror, there was: they were eyelashes, lining the lid of a closed, massive third eye. It opened wide to reveal its black sclera and a solid red iris, and with this transformation her status changed:

Status Effects: Eye of Gorbachev (Oitosyros)

The black undergarments she wore, of which he assumed were spandex, began to grow flatly against her skin, creeping up her neck to cover her chin and cheeks in sharp-edged patches. She remained emotionless save the furrow in her brow that indicated, as John might one day learn, neatly unrepressed fury. Glowing red lines appeared in the black sea of her engulfed flesh, and the room began to warm.

"I don't believe one's ever been tested by the Golden Rose." The hammer glowed with that familiar, deadly light. "Perhaps none before you were ever so foolish!"

John felt a bit forgotten, or at least he would've if he wasn't so busy desperately looking around for any exit other than through Moira to get to the door.