Chương 61: Integration Empire Meeting

Ten minutes before Joe's invitation countdown ended he sat in Corel's room with her and Veda.

"Are you ready?" Veda asked once again. Joe nodded.

"Don't go overboard. If you can, don't even engage with the Voldura there. I would recommend you focus on the other worlds and figure out what kind of competition you will be up against going forward," Veda advised.

"Pathfinder is a problem for another day." Joe nodded again. He agreed. Right now he didn't have enough information. He had no idea what he was truly up against, and this meeting of all the integration worlds, was definitely not the place to try sizing up Pathfinder. His goal was simple: observe, listen, and learn. The Voldura were not today's problem.

"What do you think, Corel?" Joe asked.

"Veda is right. Pathfinder isn't the focus today. I would recommend you talk to the Grosii Xvv. They talk a lot. But be careful. They are very smart," Corel said. Joe nodded, remembering the fish-like race. Veda gave him a few more tips before wrapping him in one last hug with her tail, then leapt lightly onto Corel's shoulder. Joe smiled. At least one good thing had already come from this meeting, if it helped bring Veda and Corel a little closer together, then today was already a win.

The countdown ended and Joe was teleported off-world. Joe appeared seated in a chair inside a small, clear, blue-tinted bubble. His eyes adjusted instantly to the new environment, and he glanced around, taking in the strange space. Beyond the bubble, he could see others scattered close by, each suspended like isolated pods inside a giant room. He glanced down at the chair beneath him. It looked like something straight out of Star Trek, sleek, futuristic, and yes, it even swiveled.

Taking a deep breath, Joe stood up and turned to face the other figures inside the bubble. Four massive Voldura stood across from him, arms crossed, watching him silently. Joe's gaze was immediately drawn to the smallest of the group, though "smallest" was relative. This one still stood at least two inches taller than him. Unlike the others, this Voldura had dark green skin and large, circular horns that curved around from the forehead, spiked tips pointing straight upward.

The horns were pitch black, as were the eyes that locked onto Joe. The Voldura smiled. This was without a doubt… Pathfinder.

"We finally meet, Feormere," Pathfinder drawled. He extended a clawed hand, pointing at Joe.

"You were the one we saw in the sky. You have my Seeker. I presume you are keeping her safe." Joe noted the use of the nickname he had registered on the integration leaderboard. Pathfinder must not have checked it before he changed it, or maybe he had, and chose to use it anyway. Either way, Joe didn't mind. He liked the name. It suited him. He smiled and gave Pathfinder a small bow.

"She's fine," Joe replied curtly.

"So you're Pathfinder." Then he turned his back on the Voldura and walked toward the edge of the bubble, ignoring any reaction his dismissal might provoke. He looked out, scanning the surrounding bubbles. They all were at the same level, and from his current position, he could only see about five. He didn't spot the ones he was looking for. Joe turned as he heard the Voldura returning to their seats. They hadn't said anything when he walked away, but he'd seen the flicker of anger in their eyes. Good.

He remained standing, waiting silently. Gradually, names appeared above everyone's heads in that familiar floating text he'd seen during the Battle Royale, each listing their world and rank. He glanced up, spotting his own: Feormere - World 27 - Rank 1. He smiled again. He didn't have to wait long before all the bubbles began to recede into the ground. They were free to move. The room was vast and open, lightly decorated but undeniably grand. The walls were lined with glowing lights and ornate artwork.

Each painting depicted scenes of diverse races gathered in discussion, some in what looked like formal councils, others in courtroom-like debates. A few portraits displayed singular beings holding up brilliant treasures, no doubt past winners of Integration competitions. He glanced down at the metallic tiled flooring. He stepped forward, expecting a sharp clink, yet no sound followed. The room had been designed for silent movement.

He walked between the clusters, groups of five from each bubble, recognizing many of the races from the Battle Royale. But these weren't the same kinds of fighters he'd seen before. Gone were the basic gear and rough readiness. Everyone here was dressed in ornate armor or elaborate clothing, radiating power and status. These were the elites of Integration, no doubt about it. Each one stood tall, confident, speaking among their groups.

Joe noticed he was the only one moving between the crowds, and his motion drew attention. Quiet, assessing looks followed him as he walked. He read the names above their heads, focusing on the Rank Ones. A pattern began to form. Only the Rank Fives ever looked at him for more than a moment. As he passed, they would lean in and whisper something to the others, always just out of earshot. That's when Joe noticed his hearing was being suppressed. The system was interfering, dampening the sound beyond a few feet.

He should've been able to pick up conversations even at this distance. No listening to others' conversations here. Joe walked past the five attendees from world ranked 34. This time, all five turned to look at him. They were the yellow-skinned, large-eyed humanoid race he'd seen in the Battle Royale. One of them, a young girl, stepped forward. Her name floated above her: Tevenny Loquitor - Rank 3.

"Hi, I'm Tevenny. Nice to meet you, Feormere," she said, lifting one arm straight up while extending the other out to her side, balancing on one foot. Joe stopped in his tracks and quickly mirrored her posture, assuming it was some kind of traditional greeting.

"Nice to meet you, Tevenny," he replied, wobbling slightly. Tevenny smiled.

"Not bad. But you need to keep all your fingers straight except your smallest one, which should curl down," she instructed, holding the pose a moment longer before releasing it. Joe adjusted his hand accordingly, and after a small nod of approval from Tevenny, he relaxed.

"Thanks. It's my first time here. I hope that was the right thing to do."

"You are the first to return the greeting," Tevenny said with a chuckle.

"You are the one from the failed world, correct?" Joe realized this was probably the first time anyone here had seen a human. He hadn't met any others during the Battle Royale, and from what he'd observed, every world seemed to host a different race.

"Yes, that's right. I was the first human to participate in an integration competition."

"Human. I like that. You are very handsome. Are you married?" Tevenny asked. Joe blinked, caught off guard for just a moment.

"No, but I have been bonded… twice," Joe replied. Tevenny raised a hand to her mouth and giggled.

"Wow, two bonds. If you fail with the… bonding, I would like to marry you," she said with complete sincerity. Joe had to suppress his shock. This conversation was not what he'd expected at all.

"Thank you for the offer. But hopefully I will succeed," he said.

"Pity," Tevenny replied with a smile. She turned to her group, and they exchanged a brief glance before she looked back at Joe.

"I hope we can talk again later. I won't keep you." She shifted into a different pose this time, both arms angled downward as she leaned forward onto her tiptoes. Joe mirrored her again, and with that, Tevenny skipped away back to her group. He shook his head and resumed his stroll. He passed several more worlds before spotting the Grosii group. As he approached, they turned toward him, but before he could reach them, a figure stepped directly into his path. He looked up at the towering wall of muscle before him.

Over seven feet tall, grey-skinned, and absolutely packed with power. Godson Drack- World Ranked 6 - Rank 4. The man's arms were covered in jagged bone spikes, and his hands were similarly armoured with hardened bone plates. His face, vaguely orc-like, was no exception. Bones wrapped around his eyes like a crude visor and extended down past his mouth in the form of a rigid beard. He was, without question, terrifying to look at.

"Feormere. Rank one. I have question," The man bellowed in a deep, resonant voice. Joe stared back at him, puzzled for a moment.

"Please go ahead, Godson, if I may call you that," Joe replied politely.

"You may. Your world is fused. You are strong. You join our world when transfer available," Godson said, his speech oddly disjointed. Joe paused, trying to parse the meaning. The man spoke like someone still learning the language.

"Hold on," Joe said, raising a hand.

"That was a little hard to understand. Are you asking if I would like to join your world in the future?"

"Yes," Godson replied with a wide smile.

"Daughter said you handsome. You join world. Family. We conquer together." Joe glanced to his left and spotted the female he assumed was the daughter. She stood stiff and stone-faced, eyes locked on him. Toro Drack - World Ranked 6 - Rank 1. Joe blinked in surprise. Turning back to Godson, he tried to formulate a response to the outlandish proposition. This is going to be a long day, he thought.

"I appreciate the offer. I'm… not currently looking to join a world… or a family. Apologies," Joe said with a slight bow. Godson smiled, seemingly unfazed.

"Understand. Daughter will beat you, make you hers. Then you come." With that, he turned and walked back to his group. Joe stared after him in resignation, then cautiously looked back at Toro, who was still staring at him with unblinking focus. He shuddered, then quickly turned toward the Grosii group, silently hoping this meeting at least came with alcohol.

"Greetings, Joe," said the Grosii named Joop. Joe noticed all five Grosii were labelled as Rank One. He assumed it was due to their hive mind, but still didn't quite understand how that worked. Was he always talking to the same individual? And if so, why did they have different names? He wondered.

"Greetings, Joop."

"Do you mind us calling you Joe, or do you prefer Feormere?" Joop asked. Joe considered for a moment before answering.

"I think we should stick with Feormere, so as not to confuse anyone else. Though when we talk in private, Joe is fine." All five Grosii nodded in unison.

"What can we do for you? How are things on World ranked 27?" Joop asked.

"Not great," Joe admitted.

"The Voldura don't seem to like us humans, much. I was kind of hoping you had information on Pathfinder to help with the situation. I will, of course, compensate you for any assistance." The Grosii exchanged a glance, their expression unreadable.

"We have many questions," Joop said.

"We also know a lot of this Pathfinder. But first, we wanted to ask something important." All five leaned slightly forward in eerie synchronization.

"You are not human, what are you?" Joe sighed. Yep. This day is definitely going to drain every ounce of mental energy I have.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to hide it from you. It's just… a little complicated. I received a race change at level one. I am a High Human," Joe explained. He kept his tone honest and open. The Grosii were his best shot at getting reliable information on Pathfinder, so transparency seemed the smartest move.

"We understand," Joop replied.

"It must be difficult for you, being the only one of your kind on your world." Joe was unsure if that was a guess or if they knew it was true. He started to wonder just how well informed the Grosii actually were.

"It presented problems at first," Joe replied, "but now it is usually fine."

"Yes, yes. Hmm. You fight well for someone from a failed world. We cannot determine your level." Joop said curiously.

"You do not need to tell us. We enjoy guessing. We will present our guess next time we meet." There was a pause before Joop continued.

"Pathfinder is not friendly. We do not approve of his methods. But we will give you information, in exchange for information. First, we would like to know, will other humans be joining the competitions?"

"Yes, I think so. Right now it's difficult, most are still below level one hundred. So they're currently training. We have four cities that can enter and join the competitions. Though I cannot say when they will be ready."

"Very good. We look forward to meeting them." Joop clicked his webbed fingers together, droplets of water splashing around him.

"We shall not speak of skills aloud, that is bad luck, but we have this." Joop gestured to the Grosii named Zoop, who pulled a small envelope from his storage ring. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

"This contains all battle data we have on Pathfinder. Do not open it here," Joop instructed. Joe was genuinely impressed. Had they prepared this in advance, expecting him to ask? Or… do they always carry sealed folders filled with intel? He wasn't about to ask.

"Thank you. This will be very helpful to my people."

"We hope you free the slaves. We do not approve of such barbarism," Joop said.

"We would like to know, is the seeker safe?"

"Corel is safe and with me. Have you met her before?"

"Yes, we encountered her a few times before her Clan was destroyed, and once after. We are glad to hear she is safe." Joe nodded in response.

"What usually happens at these things?" he asked.

"I heard there might be an appearance from a god?" He tried to think if he had any other questions left regarding Pathfinder.

"Yes, there is a list of gods who will be attending today." Joop said, waving a hand. A translucent screen appeared before them both. Joop tapped at it and a short list materialized. Joe stared at the odd screen that was labelled Empire meeting screen.

"Huh," he mumbled as he began reading, then stopped abruptly when he saw one name in particular. God attendee number three: Catalina Terravignion.

"Shit," Joe said in dismay. The Grosii watching him closely.

"You recognise the name?" Joop asked.

"Yep. I do."

"Have you met a god before?" Joop asked.

"Yep." Joop did not press further. Joe eventually turned back to them and asked a few more questions about what else to expect from the gathering. They informed him there would be food and alcohol. Which was music to his ears. After the meal, the worlds would be allowed to mingle. That was usually when the established alliances got together and scouted potential new members.

It was also the time when individuals could come forward and apply for refuge in a top ten world, submitting themselves for consideration in future world trades. Then, at the very end, the gods and empires would begin submitting those they deemed worthy of recruitment with offers to join them once the Integration was complete.

Joe then had to spend about ten minutes answering questions about the current situation in his world, information about alliances that had formed among the humans and any names he would indulge them with regarding the strongest people in his world. Joe answered their queries, but kept his friends' names untold. He did however have no problem telling them all about the Americans and others he didn't really have any ties to. Joe thanked the Grosii and began making his way back toward his bubble.

Thankfully, no one else approached him with talk of marriage on the way. He returned to his seat, ignoring the stares from Pathfinder and the other Voldura. Right now, Joe just wanted one thing, to get very, very drunk. A notification flashed in front of Joe, announcing the start of the meal. Above him, a glowing arrow appeared, pointing the way. Pathfinder and his entourage moved immediately, heading off without a word. Joe followed at a short distance behind.

One of the larger Voldura, Gecko Vor the Third - Rank 3, kept glancing back at him. If looks could kill, Joe would've dropped on the spot. He does look strong, Joe thought grimly, starting to feel underleveled again as he surveyed the other attendees. More than a few radiated an undeniable presence, and Joe was acutely aware of how powerful many of them were. As they approached the tables, they fanned out into five concentric circles, each world claiming their designated seat.

The top five ranked worlds sat at the centre, the next ten forming the next ring, and so on. Joe made his way to the table marked Twenty-Seven and took a seat slightly apart from the others. Thankfully, there was enough space that he wasn't sitting directly next to any of the Voldura. He turned his chair slightly to face the centre of the formation and scanned the top-ranked worlds. Every single person seated at those inner tables wore elaborate armors.

Even with their auras suppressed, the pressure around them was tangible. There was also a noticeable lack of conversations between the tables. Everyone stuck to their own and pointedly ignored any other table. Gazing upon these elites was a humbling experience for Joe. He now knew that as strong as he was, there was still a long way to go for him to reach the peak of the Integration. Something inside him hummed in anticipation.

"Hey fella, check her out," A voice hissed to his right. Joe turned and saw the attendee from World Ranked Twenty-Eight, a tall, orange-scaled humanoid snake man with narrow eyes. His name floated above him: Pooorrrruuuu Silk - Rank 2. Joe had no idea how to pronounce that, so he decided to avoid saying it altogether.

"Hey, Mr Silk. Who are you referring to?" The snake man pointed a clawed finger toward Table Number Three. Joe followed the gesture, and saw them. Five yellow frogs sat around the table, each one marked with a different pattern of spots. All five had an odd elegance to them as they sat, adorned in what looked like silk robes, with the occasional flash of metallic armour beneath. The one Silk was pointing at, the frog marked as Marie Gooboo - Rank 5, was the only one glancing in their direction.

Her tongue flicked as her gaze left them. Joe turned back toward Silk, who was looking at him expectantly.

"So, what do you think? A True beaut, right? Never seen such a beautiful raceeee," Silk hissed with admiration. Joe had to stop himself from shaking his head.

"Yes, I agree. But she is not my type. Good luck, though, if you plan to woo her."

"Oh god nooooo," Silk hissed.

"I am far too weak to approach herrrr." Joe did shake his head this time. Where the hell was that alcohol? Once everyone was seated, the room filled with small metallic drones that buzzed through the air, distributing drinks and serving appetizers. Joe waved his drone down and kept pestering it until it filled six glasses in front of him with the strongest alcohol available. He took a cautious sip and immediately smiled, though he slightly regretted his choice.

Whatever it was, it tasted like it was ninety percent alcohol. He shrugged and took a big gulp.

"Fuck it," He said. Two of the Voldura nearby gave him looks of open disgust. He ignored them. Reaching for one of the appetizers set before him, he picked up what looked like a cracker topped with caviar. One bite told him it was sour… very sour, but delicious. He sampled each of the offerings, eventually settling on a fruit that tasted like an overly sweet mango. It was the clear winner. He had the drone remove everything else and ordered three plates of the fruit to be set in front of him.

As he nibbled, he casually scanned the room. Most attendees were doing the same, drinking and snacking in silence, or chatting quietly among their groups. Unsurprisingly, quite a few eyes met his gaze. A new face from an unknown race was bound to attract attention. Joe met eyes with a wiry-looking figure seated at Table Sixteen. The man's race was strikingly close to human, except his eyes and nose were elongated and larger, and his hair was enormous. His fingers were far longer than any human's. Markos P - Rank 5.

The man waved. Joe waved back. Joe downed three of his glasses before the drones returned with the main course. A large platter filled with various meats and breads was set before him. He carved a generous slice of meat and laid it on a thick piece of brown-coloured bread. One bite later, a huge smile spread across his face. Delicious. He happily spent the next stretch of time drinking strong alcohol and feasting on the best meal he'd had in ages. The meal consisted of four courses.

It took just under an hour for the final dish to be served across all tables. Joe leaned back in his chair, rubbing his full belly. He was thoroughly stuffed and blissfully happy. Slightly buzzed from the six glasses he'd already consumed, he waved a hand and managed to convince the drone to bring him six more. This time, he requested the second-strongest drink. It tasted only slightly weaker, maybe one per cent less alcohol, but was far smoother.

Joe sat in peaceful contentment for nearly twenty minutes, digesting his meal and soaking in the atmosphere. Then, a notification flashed before his eyes. All around the room, attendees began to leave their tables and circulate. Pathfinder and his entourage vacated the table, heading toward Table Ten. Joe watched as they began conversing with the Rank Five there - Glurk Go Prog. He was a massive gorilla man with equally massive arms. It wasn't long before Joe had company of his own.

Markos, the wiry figure from earlier, approached with a friendly grin.

"Hey. How's it going? I really wanted to ask where you got those glasses? Is that spider silk?" Joe smiled. Finally, a topic better than marriage proposals.

"Yes," he replied with enthusiasm, launching into the tale behind his spider silk glasses.

"Wow, quite a story," Markos said when he finished.

"So failed worlds are filled with beasts?"

"Yep, I was quite surprised as well," Joe replied.

"Mind if I join you fellas?" Joe turned towards the new voice and was greeted by the sight of a tall, blue-skinned man with a pair of horns curving from the top of his ears. He had hooves instead of feet. Geld Longvor World Ranked 33 - Rank 5.

"Sure, grab a glass. I'll get some more drinks," Joe said cheerfully, waving down his drone. He ordered three more glasses.

"Nice to meet you, Feormere," Geld said as he took a sip from the nearest glass. His face immediately twisted into a grimace.

"Wow, that is strong. I think I'll pass, thanks," he said, pushing the glass far away from himself.

"Haha, it's not for everyone, I guess. So tell us, Geld. What was your favourite part of the meal?" Joe asked.

"I enjoyed the click govoo. They were just delicious." Joe blinked at him in confusion.

"The orange circular crunchy appetizers," Geld clarified.

"Ohhhh, yeah, those weren't bad. How did you know what they were called?" Joe asked.

"I checked the menu on the status screen…" Geld said, speaking like someone explaining the obvious to a child. Joe slapped himself.

"There's a menu? Ha! I didn't even think of that." He opened his status, found the menu, and immediately began gawking at it. Geld turned to Markos.

"I think he's drunk."

"He was drunk two glasses ago," Markos replied with a laugh.

"Great. Here I was hoping for some juicy info on Kilch. Did you know this is the guy who survived the Battle Royale? No one's survived one of those."

"Yeah, I know. Ask him. He's drunk, but he's not stupid," Markos said, chuckling.

"Okay. Erm, Feormere. I was…" Geld began, only to be cut off as Joe whirled around.

"Luck! It was pure luck. The Battle Royale was split into two groups. I won one, Kilch won the other. Easy," Joe said with a clap. Geld stared at the clearly intoxicated Joe.

"Okay then. Guess that answers that," Geld said with a smile.

"Maybe I'll order a slightly weaker drink," he added, waving down a drone.

"Aahhh, you're no fun," Joe complained.

"Let me tell you guys a story." He launched into a tale about how he met a girl with long golden hair. He was still sober enough to skip over the more personal details, the ones he didn't want to share. As he spoke, Joe noticed a few intense stares aimed his way. He made a mental note to remember their faces, and their table numbers. Two, Four, and Eleven. __ Table Number Seven was the only one at the banquet with fewer than five attendees seated around it.

That was because these two men were the last living beings left on their world. Gaston raised his glass and took a slow sip. He turned to his companion.

"Ark, what do you think?" He asked. Ark shook his head, frowning.

"No reading," he said confused.

"Either, the machine is broken, or that thing has a D-grade or higher block."

"D-grade? You think it has been off-world? What Empire?"

"Unsure. Calculations are running slow for some reason." Ark gave his arm a shake. The hidden device embedded in his sleeve rattled softly.

"All my readings are off. I suspect only one of two possibilities."

"An intervention? Someone we know?" Gaston asked, leaning in close.

"Twenty percent chance." Ark replied. His eyes shone for a moment as he accessed his scanner. He turned and met Gaston's gaze.

"Fifty per cent possibility of an anomaly."

"What?" Gaston nearly shouted. He glanced around, but no one was looking their way, their cloaking devices were holding, working overtime.

"Really? Here? Now? Of all the integrations, we get one with an anomaly?" Gaston groaned, burying his face in his hands.

"What will master say?" Gaston asked.

"Proceed. Stay the course," Ark replied.

"Too late now."

"Too late now," Gaston echoed, resigned.

"Engage?" Ark shook his head.

"Bad idea. Probability of failure rises exponentially if we engage."

"What? But how?" Gaston asked, stunned, until a realization hit him.

"Bloodline? Another one?" Ark nodded. Gaston was well and truly in shock now. There was something very strange about this Integration. Far too many beings with bloodlines. It was normal for two, maybe three to appear in a given competition, but Ark had calculated nearly fifty so far. Fifty! That number was absurd. It reeked of outside interference. It seemed their Master wasn't the only one meddling in this Integration. But what was their goal? He shook his head.

He wasn't worried about himself or Ark, either of them dying would be impossible, bloodline or not. But failure of their mission was not an option. And that meant moving with caution. Plans were shifting constantly. Ark's prediction module was running hot, and now they were in the same room as an anomaly. Gaston cursed under his breath. What rotten luck. __ Joe watched in silence as his gaze lingered on the two cloaked figures seated at Table Seven.

He had noticed something strange, something no one else seemed to catch. For some reason, no one saw the pair sitting there. Anyone who passed close by simply veered off, looking confused as if they'd forgotten why they were near the table at all. Very strange. Joe only noticed them because they had tried to scan him, an attempt blocked by his crown. That block, combined with his Dao Sight working here, had revealed the men to his eyes.

They hadn't looked in his direction once, so he doubted they even realized he could see them. Still, he would have to be very careful around those two. They radiated the most dangerous presence he'd felt so far. No question, they were the strongest duo in the room, and by a long shot. He turned back to Markos, who was mid-conversation.

"Soo, are you part of the alliance those guys made?" Markos asked, thumbing over toward Pathfinder and his group.

"Nope, that has nothing to do with me and my people," Joe replied. Markos had informed him earlier, about Worlds Six through Ten forming an alliance to try and guarantee their qualification spots. Joe was starting to wish he could bring someone along to these meetings. Someone more business-savvy. Negotiating alliances and political positioning wasn't exactly his strong suit. He'd much rather just compete, rack up enough points, and skip the diplomatic dance altogether.

While Joe sat lost in thought, a new voice cut in, low, sultry, and unmistakably directed at him.

"Hey sugar. Mind if I join you guys?" Joe looked up at the speaker. Lola Veil, World Ranked 36 - Rank 1. He gestured for the spider-like woman to take a seat and offered her a glass.

"Welcome, it's strong stuff, Geld refused to drink any," Joe said, nodding toward the blue-skinned man. Lola accepted the glass with one of the spider legs protruding from her back. She took a slow sip, then smiled, revealing two gleaming, blood red fangs.

"I like strong drinks," Lola said, staring into Joe's eyes with unrestrained intensity. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze and looked away, which made her chuckle.

"So tell me Sugar," she continued, eyes still locked on him.

"how are you gents enjoying the meeting so far?"

"This is always the boring part," Geld said with a dismissive wave.

"It only gets interesting once the proposals begin."

"Proposals?" Joe asked.

"It's when the worlds outside the top ten request alliances, trade deals, agreements," Geld explained.

"I guess you wouldn't know, but that part used to take a very long time before the established alliances formed. It's all explained on your status." Joe listened closely. Things were starting to sound a lot more civilised than he'd expected. He'd assumed interworld relations would be ruthless, cutthroat, mostly survival of the fittest. After living over a year on a world constantly trying to kill him, it was easy to forget what more civilized interaction looked like.

He glanced at Lola, who was still staring at him intently.

"Something on my face?" he asked, trying to meet her gaze. He was still a little buzzed, but had been playing up his drunkenness more in an attempt to make those around him drop their guards.

"Yes, actually," Lola replied with a smile. Joe decided it was probably best to ignore the strange spider-woman for now, so he turned back to Geld. He was about to ask another question when a notification popped up before him. Empire Meeting Alliance Forum is beginning Please make your way to the meeting room. A set of ornate doors materialized among the tables. Attendees from the top ten worlds stood and began walking toward them.

"Let's go, Feormere," Markos said, rising. Just as Joe was about to join him, Lola suddenly appeared at his side and wrapped her arm around his.

"Let's go," She purred, locking eyes with him again. Joe shivered slightly… but walked through the doorway arm in arm with the spider-woman.