General Pov
Freya stepped forward, her posture straightening as she shed the affectionate demeanor she had worn in her suite, the protective, calculating Queen taking center stage.
"I am here to establish an understanding, Ouranos," Freya stated clearly, her voice echoing into the vast, shadowed corners of the chamber. "Max here is... profoundly unique. His soul, his magic, his very presence—they defy the conventional logic of Gekai. Soon, the other deities will notice. They will try to read him, fail, and initiate witch hunts simply because they cannot comprehend what he is."
She raised her chin, her divine aura flaring slightly, pushing back against the heavy, physical pressure of the room. It was a subtle flex, a reminder of her own power.
"I want Guild assurance regarding his nature. He is mine, and I will not have him dragged before a divine council on accusations of heresy."
Ouranos didn't blink. The elder God's face remained as inscrutable as the stone he sat upon. He did not speak immediately, letting the silence stretch, weighing the gravity of what the Goddess of Beauty was demanding.
Recognizing that silence in negotiations meant an offer was expected, Freya continued.
"In return for this assurance," she offered, her tone perfectly even, "I will ensure the Freya Familia commits to deep exploration once Loki's children return from their current expedition."
It was a significant concession. Since the fall of the Zeus and Hera Familias, a quiet, unspoken agreement had been struck: to ensure Orario always possessed a reliable defense against an unpredictable threat, the two remaining powerhouses—Freya and Loki—were not encouraged to field their entire core forces deep within the Dungeon simultaneously.
To Max's surprise, Ouranos shook his head slowly.
"However much I would desire your children to march into the deep," the ancient God rumbled, "that is not the city's most pressing concern right now."
Ouranos shifted on his throne, the grinding of stone echoing softly.
"The Evilus," Ouranos stated, naming the poison festering in Orario's veins. "They are becoming bolder. From orchestrating unrest in the surface streets to slaughtering hardworking adventurers in the Dungeon by intentionally triggering Pass Parades and Monster Parties... they are employing every underhanded tactic to bleed the city dry. It is a slow, methodical draining of our strength."
Freya paused. She cast a brief, sidelong glance at Max, as if mentally weighing whether to reveal this in front of him or not, before seemingly deciding that his recent level up earned him clearance.
"My Familia is already dealing with them," Freya replied, a cold, predatory edge slipping into her voice. "We have intensified our efforts recently, culling several of the smaller Familias affiliated with their dark alliance. But..."
She frowned, clearly displeased by the limitation of her own forces. "Most of their trails simply vanish once they reach Daedalus Street. We strongly suspect they have established a hidden headquarters within that maze."
Max's head snapped up.
Daedalus Street. Evilus HQ. Vanishing trails.
The anime lore filed neatly in the back of his mind, connected violently. The underground labyrinth built parallel to the Dungeon. The inherited madness of the Daedalus lineage.
He didn't bother waiting for permission to speak.
"I heard," Max said suddenly, his voice breaking the tense standoff between the two deities. "They have a secret entrance to the Dungeon down there. An entirely artificial labyrinth, actually, if I remember correctly. Knossos, I believe it is called."
Both Deities turned to him. Freya's surprise was visible. Ouranos went very still.
For Freya, the surprise was that Max knew about a secret that even Allen couldn't uncover.
But for Ouranos, the shock ran much, much deeper. The name Daedalus hit the ancient God like a physical blow, triggering a flood of memories from a thousand years ago—memories of a brilliant, dangerously obsessed mortal architect who had helped him finally construct the lid over the Dungeon that would become Babel Tower. A man whose obsession with the labyrinth had bordered on madness.
"An artificial dungeon..." Ouranos breathed, the pieces finally clicking together. "It explains how they bypass the Guild's monitoring entirely."
Seeing the profound surprise etched onto the faces of both Gods, Max realized he needed to provide a plausible source for this incredibly specific intel before they started questioning his clairvoyance.
"During their ambush on me earlier today on the 14th Floor," Max elaborated quickly, weaving his half-truth with practiced ease, "things got... chaotic. When their formation broke, the survivors were yelling about falling back to Rivira to use a specific access route to 'return to base.' They wanted to ensure at least one of them made it back to their headquarters alive."
He gave a slow, heavy nod. "It didn't happen. I didn't leave any survivors to report back."
The implication was clear. He had wiped the unit, but he had overheard their desperate extraction plans.
Ouranos closed his eyes, slowly processing the magnitude of this revelation. He had anticipated a meeting with the boy eventually—as he felt it to be inevitable—but he hadn't expected it to happen this soon, nor for it to yield the very key needed to unearth the rot plaguing the city.
"I am... deeply grateful for your contributions in this matter, Freya. And for yours, Maximus," Ouranos said finally, his voice thick with age and weariness.
He looked back at the Goddess of Beauty. "However, what you ask of me regarding his status is simply too delicate. If the wrong sort—someone like Apollo, or Ishtar—were to discover that the Guild is knowingly shielding a being completely outside the established system, the political upheaval could shatter what fragile peace we currently maintain."
Freya's posture stiffened, then relaxed into a posture of absolute, unbothered supremacy. She smirked, a beautiful and terrifying sight.
"I would love to see them try anything," Freya sneered softly. "If those two wretches attempt to lay a finger on him, I will wipe them from the face of this world and send them screaming back to Tenkai myself."
Ouranos stared at her. He was well aware that it wasn't a bluff. Freya would absolutely ignite a massive civil war and slaughter two entire Familias over this boy without a second thought. If that happened, Orario would tear itself apart from the inside, giving Evilus exactly the opening they desired.
The lesser of two evils, then, Ouranos decided.
He shook his head with a heavy sigh. "So be it. The Guild will officially vouch for him. We will manage his public classification and keep the peace regarding his nature."
Freya's smirk softened into a triumphant, satisfied smile.
"However," Ouranos rumbled, interrupting her victory. His gaze shifted back, fixing heavily upon Max. "What I want in return for ignoring this anomaly's existence... is from you, Maximus."
Freya froze, her protective instincts flaring instantly, but Ouranos held up a hand.
"I am aware of your ability to traverse space instantly," Ouranos stated. It wasn't a question; it was a fact derived from whatever senses the Guild Patron maintained over the dungeon.
He leaned forward, the sheer, crushing weight of his presence focusing entirely on Max. "I overstep your Goddess's authority because the rules of this world have changed since your arrival. We are both aware you are a foreigner. An entity born of a different darkness that should not exist on this Gekai."
Max bristled slightly, but held his tongue, sensing the gravity in the older God's tone.
"Your integration into this world was successful, boy. But it came with a cost," Ouranos continued, his voice echoing ominously off the cavernous ceiling. "The Dungeon is agitated. It tasted your nature when you first entered. It recognized something born of the Abyss, attempted to claim it, and failed."
Max went completely still. The psychic assault on Floor 1. It wasn't just a random defense mechanism then.
"Because of its failure to assimilate you, the labyrinth's overall hostility has increased globally," Ouranos revealed gravely. "The 'Promised Time' is no longer certain. If the Dungeon's volatility continues to escalate... there is a genuine possibility that another Great Quest will be forced upon us far sooner than expected."
The silence in the room became absolute. The mention of a Great Quest—the kind of apocalyptic mobilization that had utterly broken the Zeus and Hera Familias—hung over them like a guillotine. Freya's eyes widened, her mind racing through the geopolitical implications.
Max frowned, a flicker of genuine confusion crossing his features. The Promised Time?
That specific phrase evaded his anime-lore knowledge, but looking at the absolute, chilling gravity etched onto the faces of both ancient deities, he didn't need a wiki page to connect the dots. A 'Great Quest' related to a world-ending catastrophe that had the gods this on edge could only mean one thing: the One-Eyed Black Dragon.
He understood the first half of Ouranos's warning perfectly, though. The psychic assault he'd weathered on Floor 1 hadn't been a localized defense mechanism. The Dungeon had tried to swallow an alien concept—his Devil soul—and choked on it. Now the labyrinth was running a global fever, lashing out violently because of his mere existence.
A cold, heavy knot of guilt settled in the pit of his stomach. He had come here with arrogant thoughts of rewriting the script and playing the hero on his own terms. But by simply being here, he had agitated the Dungeon and potentially accelerated an apocalyptic ticking clock for the entire world. This mess—the heightened monster aggression, the unpredictable timeline—was his fault.
"For that reason," Ouranos said, his deep voice breaking through Max's spiraling guilt as the God stared down at him. "I require a safeguard. When the time comes—when the city faces a crisis that conventional logistics cannot overcome—I want your spatial magic to be accessible as a mass evacuation or rapid deployment line for everyone. Not just your Goddess. Not just your Familia. For Orario."
Max processed the demand. The elder God wasn't just asking for a favor; he was asking for a strategic trump card for the entire city.
"Excuse me, Lord Ouranos," Max said, taking a step forward.
His posture wasn't defiant, nor was it cowering. He stood with the relaxed, genuine confidence of a merchant standing before a very wealthy, very desperate client.
Both deities looked at him.
"I must express my profound gratitude to you for not declaring me an enemy of Orario, despite knowing exactly what I am," Max began smoothly, dipping his head in a polite, aristocratic bow. "As for your request regarding my spatial magic in times of crisis... you'll be pleased to know I am already developing exactly that."
He reached into his collar and gave a light tap. Kairu, curious at the lack of immediate violence, poked his blue head out, observing the massive God sitting on the throne.
"I was actually intending to approach the Guild soon for commercial approval," Max said casually, offering a disarming smile. "I am building a rapid-evacuation and supply-transit service across the floors. For profit, initially."
Freya stared at him as if he had just sprouted a second head. He is trying to hustle the oldest God in the world.
Ouranos, however, focused entirely on the slime perched on Max's shoulder. His eyes flicked from the blue ooze back to the boy, his vast mind easily linking the disparate elements of magic and biology.
'A Familiar with that Development Ability?' Ouranos deduced, a profound sense of satisfaction finally warming his tone. "An Ability User." He spoke aloud.
"Precisely," Max grinned, glad the old God was keeping up. "Once the infrastructure is ready, I will submit my formal application to the Guild. I trust it will be fast-tracked?"
"It will be approved immediately," Ouranos confirmed.
Deciding to strike while the iron was hot, Max pressed his advantage. "Excellent. At the same time, if the Guild could facilitate securing a storefront for me on the ground floor of Babel Tower to serve as my physical commercial hub... I would be exceptionally grateful."
He shot a quick, sideways wink at Freya. The Goddess of Beauty was utterly speechless, caught somewhere between wanting to strangle him for his sheer, unadulterated audacity and wanting to kiss him for it.
Before Ouranos could formulate a rebuttal about the intense political complications of granting prime Babel real estate to a fresh Level 2, Max reached into his pocket and pulled some parchments.
With a flick of his wrist, he sent a small stack of dozen purple contract circles gliding through the heavy air. They landed perfectly on the wide, stone armrest of Ouranos's throne.
"In the meantime," Max offered, his tone shifting back to deadly serious business. "You may distribute these to individuals of absolute trust of the Guild. In the event of a critical emergency—a deep-floor collapse, a high-value rescue—infuse it with mana or a desperate desire to be rescued. It is a one-way trip. I will pull them directly to the end corridor of Floor 1."
He paused, his voice hardening to convey the gravity of the mechanic. "Please stress to them that these are not for casual use. Until I have my secured room in Babel to serve as a proper receiving terminal, the extraction point is the upper stairwell."
Ouranos leaned forward, the creak of the ancient stone echoing loudly. He picked up one of the purple circles, running his thumb over the strange, gooey texture of the parchment, feeling the complex, alien matrix of magic woven into the material.
He closed his eyes for a long moment, running a silent calculation on the viability of the boy's terms against the survival of the city.
He opened them and nodded once.
"Very well," Ouranos rumbled, securing the parchments. "You will have your storefront and an adjacent, secured receiving point in Babel once your application is filed."
The elder God closed his eyes again, leaning back heavily into his throne. The oppressive weight in the room seemed to solidify, signaling the absolute end of the audience.
Freya, recovering her composure and reeling from the sheer density of what had just occurred, turned sharply toward the stairs, preparing for the long walk back to the surface.
"We are done here, Max. Let us—"
Vwoom.
Freya didn't finish her sentence. As if to give Ouranos a demo, Max had already activated the teleportation circle he gave Freya and then vanished from the sacred chambers.
-◈ -
Freya
The oppressive, suffocating gravity of Ouranos's sanctum vanished in an instant, replaced seamlessly by the familiar scent of spiced meat and floral perfume.
Freya stood frozen before her own dining table, the words "Let us go" dying on her lips. She blinked, her mind struggling to parse the abrupt displacement of reality. One second, she was standing deep beneath the Guild, bracing herself for the long, tedious, and politically precarious walk back to the surface in her heavy disguise; the next, she was bathing in the warm, moon light of her suite.
It hadn't felt like traversing space. There was no sensation of falling, no rushing wind, no disorienting blur. It simply felt as if the world had abruptly changed its mind about where she belonged.
In Tenkai, such movement was mundane—a mere thought transported a deity from one celestial court to another. But here, bound by the rigid physical laws and localized magical suppression of Gekai, instant teleportation was a privilege absolutely no one possessed. To experience that forgotten, unfettered freedom here in the Lower World was... breathtaking.
She reached up with slightly trembling fingers and pulled back the hood of her heavy grey cloak, letting the coarse fabric slide from her shoulders to pool on the floor.
A profound, breathless exhilaration bloomed in her chest. It was a dizzying rush of pure, unchecked power, compounded by the sheer, unadulterated audacity of what the boy beside her had just done. He just hustled the oldest God in Orario for prime Babel real estate, secured a divine pardon, and then bypassed Babel's security without blinking.
She looked down at the small pile of fine, grey dust rapidly scattering across her plush carpet—all that remained of the purple circle Max had just used. A brief pang of melancholy pinched her heart; she mourned the loss of his first actual gift to her. But as the thrill of the instantaneous jump settled in her veins, she decided it was a more than worthy sacrifice.
"What did you do?!"
The roar shattered her reverie.
The heavy gilded doors of the suite slammed open. Ottar filled the frame, moving with terrifying, explosive speed. The Warlord's usual stoic mask was completely fractured, replaced by sheer, aggressive panic. His hand was already closing around the hilt of his greatsword as his eyes swept the room, searching for the threat that had bypassed the impenetrable security of the suite and caused his Goddess to materialize out of thin air.
His fiery gaze locked onto Max. "What magic did you subject Her to?!"
"Easy, man, easy!" Max said, immediately raising both hands in a universal gesture of surrender. "We just took a shortcut! She's completely fine!"
Ottar advanced a step, his immense frame blocking the exit, his aura pressing down on the room like a physical weight. He didn't like the abruptness of the magic, and he absolutely hated the fact that the boy had subjected the Mistress to an untested, alien spatial displacement.
"If a single thread of Her dress is harmed—"
"I assure you, I didn't leave any of her body parts in the basement," Max retorted, his tone light but laced with a faint hum of defensive magic, just in case the Boaz decided to swing first and ask questions later. "I wouldn't risk doing that."
Ottar's jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck standing out like steel cables. He took another thunderous step forward, preparing to give the arrogant rookie a very physical piece of his mind regarding the safety protocols of the Goddess of Beauty.
"I am perfectly fine, Ottar."
Freya's voice cut through the rising hostility, smooth and perfectly pitched to soothe a cornered beast.
Ottar froze instantly. He turned toward her, his panicked eyes sweeping over her form from head to toe. Finding her pristine, composed, and wearing a slight, exhilarated flush, the tension rapidly drained from his massive shoulders. The rising fury evaporated, replaced by immediate, obedient relief.
"My Lady," Ottar breathed, releasing the hilt of his sword and dropping his head.
"Thank you for your diligence," Freya smiled warmly, stepping forward to gently touch his arm. "You may return to your post. Max was simply providing a demonstration."
Ottar gave a stiff nod. He slowly backed away toward the door, fixing Max with one final, searing look that promised absolute dismemberment if he ever pulled a stunt like that without prior warning again.
When the heavy doors clicked shut behind the Warlord, Freya finally allowed her posture to relax entirely. She let out a soft, musical sigh and moved toward the silver serving cart. The adrenaline of the tense political confrontation with Ouranos, followed by the sheer high of the teleportation, required a moment to ground herself.
She picked up the crystal decanter and poured a generous measure of deep, crimson wine into her glass. She took a slow, deliberate sip, letting the rich vintage calm the electric hum beneath her skin.
She heard Max step closer to the table. Without looking, she poured a second glass and held it out.
Max took it without protest. He raised the glass and took a tentative sip.
Freya watched him over the rim of her own glass, expecting him to savor it. It was, after all, a vintage imported exclusively for her—a wine that even some of the gods would beggar themselves to taste.
Instead, Max's face scrunched into a quizzical, highly analytical frown. He swished the liquid around in his mouth, closed his eyes, and swallowed with a deliberate slowness. He looked at the glass, tilting it to inspect the "legs" of the wine sliding down the crystal, his expression twisting into one of deep, skeptical assessment as if trying to ascertain its exact chemical properties.
It was such an absurd, profoundly unromantic reaction to a fine wine that Freya couldn't help it. A soft giggle escaped her lips.
Her mind, fueled by the wine and the sheer absurdity of the evening, painted a delightfully comical scenario.
She imagined a grand, opulent hall in the Underworld, filled with intimidating, bat-winged Devil Nobles clad in dark finery, all gathered around a tasting table. And there, standing before barrels of newly brewed spirits, were men just like Max—making ridiculous, pinched faces as they tried to chemically deduce the exact alcoholic strength of their demonic wine.
"Is the vintage not to your liking, my lord?" Freya teased, her voice bubbling with quiet amusement as she moved to sit back down among the plush cushions.
-◈ -
Max
The soft, teasing tone successfully snapped him out of his wine-assessment trance. He cleared his throat, feeling a faint flush of embarrassment creep up his cheeks, and set the glass down on the table.
"Nothing of the sort, my lady," Max deflected, regaining his composure. "I was just reminiscing. It's funny how one casual question changed my entire trajectory about the Guild."
He took his seat on the plush cushions opposite her. "I was originally thinking of taking time to prototype my ideas, and then asking for your political backing to approach them with a business proposal. But now? I don't need to worry about lobbying or getting past their bureaucracy. I have the CEO's personal fast-track. Now I just need to actually build the things."
Freya hummed in agreement, tracing the rim of her glass, ignoring the unfamiliar terms.
"That also clears my schedule for my actual plans," Max said, seamlessly picking up the thread of their conversation from before their abrupt, albeit fruitful, excursion to the Guild's basement.
Freya didn't interrupt. She simply rested her chin on her hand, giving him her undivided attention as he laid out his itinerary for the coming week.
"The main reason I asked about the other Gods in the first place," Max began, "is because I plan to wander the city. I want to get a feel for the districts, the economy, the layout. But I can't do that properly until I've cashed out the rest of my loot."
Freya raised a delicate eyebrow. She had assumed his visit to the guild was to cash his earnings. "You didn't cash everything at the Guild?"
Max shook his head with a sly smirk. "What I dropped on Rose Fannett's desk was barely a fraction of it, and it was already enough to give the poor woman a panic attack. Plus, I don't want the Guild tracking exactly how many Middle Floor monsters I slaughtered on my first weekend. Hedin mentioned the Familia has its own exchange network. I want to process the rest of the high-tier drops there."
Freya nodded, understanding his discretion. "We do. Our designated merchants manage the bulk of our dungeon proceeds to avoid overwhelming the public markets." She smiled faintly, anticipating the inevitable friction. "However, given your... popularity with certain members of the lower ranks, I will send word to Raymond to oversee your transaction personally. That will ensure your payout isn't subjected to any 'clerical errors' born of pettiness."
"That would be perfect," Max said, genuinely grateful. "If you hadn't offered, I was going to ask Ottar to stand behind me while they did the math, but your word definitely carries more impact."
Freya chuckled softly at the image of the towering Warlord casually auditing a nervous merchant. She leaned forward slightly. "Speaking of rewards... what do you intend to do with this newfound wealth? Looking at your current attire," her gaze swept approvingly over the sleek, grey-blue armor plates Kairu had synthesized, "I assume purchasing new armor is off the table. And knowing that your familiar has just unlocked Mystery, I am certain you are itching to put those funds toward something far more ambitious."
"You assume correctly on both counts," Max grinned, reaching up to pat Kairu, who gave a proud little jiggle on his shoulder in response to the praise. "He did splendidly. But for now, my shopping list is purely functional."
He ticked the items off on his fingers. "First: I need a much bigger, high-quality spatial storage pouch. Pulling out an entire dragon's hoard's worth of stones from a bag the size of an apple is starting to look ridiculous." He smirked. "Though, I will admit, the looks on the shopkeepers' faces are almost worth keeping the small bag."
Freya's eyes danced with shared amusement.
"Second," Max continued, his expression turning serious. "I need a custom weapon. Something highly durable, capable of channeling large volumes of mana without degrading. The rapier I pulled from the armory was solid, but it started failing during the ambush. Kairu had to absorb and reinforce it mid-dive just to keep it from snapping entirely."
He paused, thinking of his options. "I also plan to visit both Hephaestus and Goibniu Familias. I want to see whose craftsmanship feels right, and what kind of custom order I can commission to handle the Destruction without melting."
He went on to detail a few other logistical plans—securing rare alchemical reagents to see what Kairu could process with Devourer, and creating potential items for his Babel storefront.
When he finally finished his list, Freya tilted her head, a note of curious disappointment threading through her voice. "You are spending your days playing merchant and tourist? You won't go into the Dungeon, then?"
Max flashed a roguish, decidedly Devilish smirk.
"I'll do all the boring administrative stuff during the day," he replied, the thrill of the grind creeping back into his voice. "I'll go into the Dungeon at night. For a few hours at a time."
He paused, a sudden, tactical question surfacing in his mind regarding his nocturnal activities.
"Speaking of my dives..." Max asked carefully. "Is Hogni going to keep following me around?"
From his understanding, the escort mission had logically concluded. He had survived his first deep dive, proven he wasn't going to die to a stray Minotaur, and established a working relationship with the Dungeon's Middle levels. The shadow detail should be over.
Freya's lips curved into a distinct, knowing smirk. "Actually," she purred, savoring the irony of the situation, "Hogni made a request when he came to update his status today. He asked to be permanently assigned to you as your shadow 'until the Void Child's roots take firm hold in the dark'—or, translated from his theatrics: until you get strong enough to survive without him worrying."
Max blinked, momentarily speechless.
A warm sense of accomplishment bloomed in his chest. He had actually done it. He had managed to endear himself to the most reclusive, antisocial powerhouse in the city so thoroughly that the Dark Elf had volunteered for extended babysitting duty. Not bad, Max thought, touched by the genuine, if overly dramatic, display of loyalty.
But pragmatism immediately stamped out the warm fuzzies.
He didn't want a tail every time he stepped into the Dungeon. How was he supposed to experiment properly? How was he supposed to stress-test his new stats, or map out his illicit teleportation network, with a Level 5 executive hovering fifty feet behind him?
He needed to be alone. But he also knew that flat-out refusing the protection of a First-Class adventurer after surviving an assassination attempt by the skin of his teeth would look arrogant, ungrateful, and highly suspicious.
He had to tread carefully.
"What are your thoughts on his request?" Max asked carefully, testing the waters.
Freya looked at him for a long moment, taking a slow sip of her wine.
Max mentally kicked himself as soon as the question left his mouth. It sounded incredibly stupid. Obviously, anyone with half a brain cell could see having a Level 5 bodyguard volunteering for permanent escort duty was an unimaginably beneficial arrangement for a new recruit.
"I mean," Max amended quickly, lifting Kairu off his shoulder and placing the slime prominently on the table in front of her for emphasis. "Since Kairu is Level 3 now, and considering how we handled the Middle Floors... I'd really like the chance to operate autonomously."
Ki! Ki! Kairu chirped, bouncing eagerly to corroborate his master's argument.
Freya smirked into her glass. She appreciated his attempt to persuade her—and more importantly, she appreciated that he was asking her permission before simply doing something recklessly stupid, like teleporting into the Middle Floors alone just to test his new stats.
"Alternate days," Freya proposed, setting the glass down. "That is the compromise I am willing to allow. He will shadow you every other dive."
Max considered her for a moment, his mind working the angles.
"How about this," Max countered. "For the first three days, Hogni can follow me. I'll use that time to recalibrate my body to the new Level 2 stats with a safety net. After that, I'm on my own. And I promise to take him with me when I face the Goliath."
Freya looked genuinely interested. A slow, breathtaking smile spread across her face.
"A fair compromise," she said, her eyes glinting. "But in return, you are going to take me flying in the skies once you are victorious against the Monster Rex."
Max opened his mouth to negotiate—maybe suggest a less visible aerial excursion—but Freya held up a single, manicured finger, making a silencing motion.
"No negotiations, you greedy goblin," she purred.
Max sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Alright," he said. But as soon as he agreed, the "defeated" look vanished, replaced instantly by a victorious smirk. "But I decide where we're going."
Freya shook her head, an amused breath escaping her lips. He never fails to entertain.
"Agreed," she nodded.
After letting the comfortable silence settle between them for a moment, Max stretched his arms above his head, his joints popping satisfyingly. He stood up, retrieving Kairu.
"So," Max asked, looking down at her, "are you coming back to Folkvangr tonight, or staying here in the tower?"
Freya raised an elegant eyebrow at the sudden question. "What for?"
"Because I'm going to teleport straight to my suite," Max said casually. "You can hop in as well if you're coming. Saves the walk."
Freya felt a pang of longing—she would have loved to experience that exhilarating displacement of space once more tonight. But she had other things to deal with.
She shook her head with a soft smile. "Tempting, but no. You return without me tonight, Max. I have some... administrative things to organize here."
"Suit yourself," Max nodded.
He didn't bother chanting or drawing. The crimson magic circle flared to life instantaneously beneath him, casting dramatic red shadows against the opulent walls.
But before the magic could fully engage and pull him away, Max reached into his storage bag. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed a small, neatly bound stack of purple teleportation circles onto the table next to her wine glass.
"Those are to replace the one we used today," Max said, a cheeky smirk on his face as the crimson light surged upwards to consume him.
And with a sharp Vwoom, he vanished, leaving behind only silence and a highly amused Goddess.
--> Devil in a Dungeon <--
AN:
That was a heavy chapter. Not because of the weight of the revelations, but also due to the complexity of emotions as well. Big things are in motion it seems...
And now Ouranos knows about Knossos, what could he plan to ensure Evilus won't be a threat to Orario? Also, I can gladly say Max successfully screwed one more thing from canon with this ;)
About his final loot, any guesses on how much it will be??
Which Gods should Max meet in his exploration? I have few encounters in mind and few places of interest as well, though would like to hear your suggestions as well.
As always, don't forget to share your thoughts on the story in a review/comment.
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Next update will be on Friday.
Ben, Out.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.