Max
The transition from the opulent heights of Babel to the quiet of his suite in Folkvangr took less than a second. The crimson light faded, leaving Max standing alone in the center of his bedroom.
He had intended to stay up a bit longer. He wanted to organize his new ideas, map out his exact approach to the crafting gods, and maybe tinker with the application of Fortune.
Instead, the moment the ambient adrenaline of the last forty-eight hours finally left his system, his body simply shut down. The sheer, overwhelming exhaustion of surviving the dungeon and navigating divine politics crashed over him like a tidal wave.
He didn't even make it under the covers. Max collapsed face-first onto the silk sheets, dead to the world before his boots finished scuffing against the mattress.
-◈ -
When Max woke, the sun was already pouring through the windows, painting the room in bright, cheerful morning light.
He didn't groan or roll over as he usually did. Instead, his eyes snapped open, and the very first thing he registered wasn't the light or the softness of the bed.
It was the power.
It didn't hum. It didn't buzz. It roared.
The raw, compressed potential of three thousand points in almost every single category, compounded by the fundamental multiplier of leveling up, had fully settled into his body overnight.
Max pushed himself up from the bed, his movements feeling unnervingly light. Gravity itself felt like a suggestion rather than a law. He placed his feet on the floor, half-expecting the marble to crack under the sheer density he felt coiled in his calves.
Careful, he warned himself, his mind flashing back to his first day of Baptism, where he had accidentally launched a Level 2 across the arena simply because he hadn't gauged his Devil body properly. My baseline just skyrocketed. If I'm not careful, I'm going to accidentally crush a doorknob—or someone's hand.
He moved with painstaking deliberation, treating his own body like a loaded gun. He walked to the bathroom, washed his face, and watched the water drip from his skin. The reflection staring back at him in the mirror hadn't changed physically—his blue hair was still a mess, his features still sharp—but his amethyst eyes practically glowed with an intoxicating, heavy light.
It was the look of a predator waking up and realizing the cage doors were open.
A sharp thwack against the bedroom wall drew his attention.
Max poked his head out of the bathroom to see Kairu absolutely losing his mind. The slime—now a Level 3 monster—was bouncing off the reinforced walls, the floor, and the ceiling in a frantic, joyous display of boundless energy. Kairu was moving so fast he was leaving a faint blue afterimage in the air, his gelatinous body stretching and compressing with impossible elasticity.
Ki! Ki! Ki!
Max couldn't help but laugh, a deep, resonant sound that felt richer in his own chest. It seemed the feeling of power was intensely mutual. The urge to activate Shunshin, burst through the window, and go tear apart the Middle Floors was practically vibrating in his mind.
But he reined himself in. He had an administrative agenda to conquer today. The Dungeon was for tonight.
He dried his face, gave himself one last approving nod in the mirror, and walked back into the suite.
"Alright, buddy. Settle down," Max called out.
Kairu immediately halted mid-air, dropping to the floor and snapping into a perfect, uniform blob shape, waiting attentively.
"You know the plan for today," Max said, grabbing a fresh, dark violet tunic from the wardrobe. "Transfer all the bulk loot into my storage bag so I can carry it. But hold onto the drops from Floor 19 and below. I don't want anyone at the Familia exchange wondering how a Level 2 managed to haul back items from the Large Tree Labyrinth. We'll trickle those into the market later."
Kairu rippled in understanding. The slime squelched over to Max's storage bag, extruded a small, specialized pseudopod, and began rapidly transferring the immense hoard of magic stones, hides, and horns he had been incubating.
While Kairu handled the logistics, Max glanced at the clock on the wall. 8:00 AM.
Perfect. He had slept deeply, recovered fully, and still had the entire day ahead of him.
He strapped on his belt and adjusted his collar. Before he headed into the city to play merchant and craftsman, he needed to make sure he was actually fit for public society. He needed to recalibrate.
"Kairu," Max said, picking up his slime-forged rapier. "Hurry it up. Before we get breakfast, we're taking a detour."
Ki? Kairu tilted, curious.
Max offered a wide, challenging grin. "We need to burn off some of this energy, and I need to make sure I don't accidentally snap a merchant in half today. You and me. Sparring match."
Kairu's core lit up with brilliant, unadulterated joy. KI~
Max stepped out of his suite and turned down the velvet-carpeted corridor of the third floor. As he walked, his mind replayed Ottar's brief tour from ten days ago. The Executives and people of interest reside here, the Warlord had said, gesturing specifically to the doors lining the right side of the hall. Allen, Hedin, Hogni, the Gullivers, Heith, Horn.
But Ottar hadn't mentioned a single thing about the left side of the corridor.
At the time, Max had been too exhausted and awestruck to question it, assuming it was just dead space or storage. But as he strolled down the hall now, his heightened senses picked up on something beneath the architecture. The left wall wasn't a solid structure. He could feel a dense, hollow void resting just beyond the paneling, masked by thick containment magic.
He stopped in front of a massive set of double doors tucked almost invisibly into the wall, marked only by a blank, polished golden plaque.
No name. No labels.
Max knocked tentatively. The sound landed flat, immediately swallowed by the acoustic dampening. He waited a few seconds. No response. He pushed against the handle, finding it unlocked, and shoved the heavy doors open.
He stepped inside, pulling the door shut behind him, and immediately felt the air pressure drop.
It was a training ground. But not just a room—it was a sprawling, subterranean-style arena built directly into the tower's reinforced architecture. Much like his private suite, there was no echo. The silence was absolute, deadened by high-grade magical dampeners, making the faint scuff of his own boots sound eerie and isolated.
Max took in the scale of the place. To his right, an armory rack stretched across the wall, holding weapons of exceptional, pristine quality. To his left, a series of massive, heavy boulders sat half-shattered, clearly used for target practice. Running along the perimeter of the room was a track of packed dirt, and Max raised an eyebrow as he noticed the deep, violently gouged trenches carved into the turns.
Someone used that for high-speed sprints, Max thought, imagining a furious catman blurring around the corners. Definitely Allen.
Confident he had stumbled into the executives' private sparring ring, he walked to the center of the arena.
He flexed his hands, thinking about his stats. Dexterity is my lowest stat. I need to boost my hand-eye coordination. He already had an idea for a perfect, albeit completely ignored, tool to train his dexterity later. But right now, finesse wasn't the goal. Calibration was.
He needed to know exactly how much damage he could do.
Max tapped his shoulder. Kairu, who had been staring wide "eyed" at the massive, scarred boulders and shiny weapon racks, snapped to attention. Max smiled, reaching up to peel the slime off his shoulder and placing him gently on the packed dirt in front of him.
"Alright, buddy. Time for a friendly spar. You ready?"
Kairu expanded, bouncing with an eager, resounding Ki!
"Good. Here are the rules," Max said, dropping into a light stretch. "The goal is calibration. We need to get a hang of these new overloaded stats so we don't accidentally destroy half the building trying to open a door."
He paused, fixing the slime with a serious, competitive grin.
"So, step one: go all out. Do not hold back. We can't figure out how to pull our punches until we know how hard we can actually hit. I want you to hit your maximum output. Once you feel your ceiling—once you know exactly what your 100 percent is—then we dial it back. Step two is learning to restrict that power, forcing it to do exactly what we want with total precision."
Find the ceiling, then lower the roof.
It was a reckless, chaotic way to train, but for the two of them, it was the only way that made sense. Kairu's Amorphous Body and Magic Resistance meant Max could hit him with the force of a freight train and the slime would just absorb it. And with Kairu's high stats in Endurance and Magic, Max knew he was actually the one who had to be careful not to get knocked out by his own familiar.
Kairu seemed to understand perfectly. As Max went through a rapid sequence of warm-ups—feeling his joints pop and his muscles stretch with unnerving, fluid ease—the slime began to prepare.
Thanks to the integration of Devourer and his new levels, Kairu's shape-shifting had evolved. Max watched in amusement and mild horror as Kairu cycled through forms like a living Swiss Army Knife. A jagged grey sword, a heavy bludgeoning hammer, a spiked buckler, and finally, a cluster of razor-sharp, whip-like tendrils.
Once Kairu settled on a stance—a spiky, heavily armed blob of azure malice—Max drew his rapier. The bluish-silver blade caught the magical light of the room.
Max breathed out, feeling the monstrous well of Strength coiling in his legs.
He looked at Kairu. Kairu looked at him.
They gave each other a single, unified nod.
And then, they charged.
BOOM.
The air cracked as they met in the middle. The sheer physical acceleration sent a plume of packed dirt exploding outward. Max's eyes widened; though there was barely thirty feet between them, he crossed it in a fraction of a second. The jump in his raw, unassisted agility was staggering—he was moving at least three and half times faster than his absolute top speed from just yesterday.
Max drove his fist forward, layering his knuckles in a dense film of Power of Destruction.
He punched Kairu directly in the center of mass.
The impact sounded like hitting a wet sandbag with a sledgehammer. The slime absorbed the kinetic force effortlessly, his body caving inward. The crimson-black PoD ate away a chunk of Kairu's blue gel on contact, sizzling ominously.
But Kairu didn't get knocked back. Instead, the slime simply flowed around Max's fist. The gelatinous mass crept up his wrist like a living glove and immediately contracted, trying to crush Max's arm with incredible compression.
At the exact same moment, Kairu extended a secondary pseudopod. Faster than Max could pull away, the slime wrapped around the hilt of the Kairu-forged rapier in Max's other hand. With a quick, localized use of Assimilation, Kairu re-absorbed the weapon straight into his own body.
Max blinked, looking at his suddenly empty hand, and let out a startled bark of laughter. "Weapon stripping? Clever little bastard."
His bones groaned as the compression on his trapped arm intensified. He's actually trying to snap my arm.
With a feral grin, Max flooded his limb with more PoD, turning his arm into a pillar of erasure. The black-red energy flared, burning away the inner layer of the slime. Realizing the danger, Kairu instantly released his grip, springing backward with an elastic thwack to reform his lost mass using his rapid regeneration.
They stood a few paces apart, unharmed. Max flexed his empty hands; Kairu jiggled his re-formed body.
Okay, Max realized, a genuine thrill racing through him. We actually can't hurt each other easily.
His physical attacks did nothing to Kairu's amorphous body, and while PoD could erase the slime, Kairu's Magic and rapid regeneration meant he could afford to lose mass. Conversely, Kairu's crushing physical strength couldn't easily bypass Max's Endurance without prolonged contact.
"Let's up the ante," Max laughed, shedding the last of his restraint.
He channeled his demonic power.
Shunshin.
He vanished, becoming a violent, violet blur bouncing off the boulders and reinforced walls, turning the arena into a pinball machine of death.
He didn't just stop there. It was time to stress-test his new slot.
"Independent Action: Auto-Evade on. Target locked: Kairu," Max commanded mentally, setting the simple protocol to track the slime's position.
Then, he slotted his newly unlocked Complex Protocol.
Command: If [Target: Kairu] enters [Radius: 5 feet] then Execute[PoD Pulse: Omni-directional Burst].
He essentially turned himself into a walking proximity mine. He didn't even need to throw a punch; if Kairu got close, the magic would blast him automatically.
Max surged forward, his speed tearing grooves into the dirt.
Kairu, tracking the blurred movement with instincts honed on the Middle Floors, didn't panic. The slime flowed like water. Whenever Max launched a PoD strike, Kairu shifted—compressing, flattening, or contorting his body into impossible shapes to let the deadly spheres pass right through his negative space.
A few strikes, however, were too close to evade completely. For those, Kairu met the attack head-on. The slime caught a PoD sphere with an extruded pseudopod, and for a split second, Max felt a strange resistance as the sphere struggled to erase the condensed gel before it finally dissolved.
The slime severed the damaged limb, dropped it harmlessly, and regenerated it with an enthusiastic bounce, as if a successful test had just concluded.
"Smart!" Max yelled, banking off a wall as he registered the silent, biological calculation his familiar had just made.
But Kairu wasn't just playing defense. As he danced away from the destruction, the slime went on the offensive.
He shape-shifted continuously, launching a barrage of attacks. A grey-blue broadsword swung for Max's knees. Max dodged. A heavy warhammer formed and smashed down toward his skull. Auto-Evade hijacked Max's body, jerking him backward to let the hammer crater the dirt.
Realizing melee strikes were being evaded, Kairu got creative. He launched a massive, sticky sheet of blue gel directly at Max's face, aiming to wrap his head and cut off his vision and oxygen in one fell swoop.
Max didn't even have to raise his hand.
The moment the gel sheet breached the five-foot perimeter, the Complex Protocol triggered.
BOOM.
A perfect, spherical burst of black-red PoD erupted from Max's body autonomously, vaporizing the gel sheet mid-air.
Max landed, grinning. "Proximity defense works!"
Ki! Kairu chirped, his tone sounding suspiciously like a tactical re-calculation.
The slime quickly realized a fundamental truth about the battle: his master's Destruction destroyed everything it touched, but his body was literally made of endlessly regenerating, magically saturated material.
If Max's magic was the ultimate eraser, Kairu decided to be an infinite supply of gel.
Instead of trying to pierce the PoD with hardened slime-swords—which just melted on contact—Kairu began firing slime bullets. Dozens. Then hundreds. He machine-gunned tiny, dense spheres of his own mass at Max.
It was the perfect counter. The sheer volume of incoming projectiles triggered Max's Auto-Evade repeatedly, forcing him to dance like a marionette. When Max tried to use PoD to shield himself, the slime bullets simply crashed into the magic, sacrificing their mass to safely neutralize the destructive energy, allowing the next wave of bullets to slip through the weakened spots.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
Several slime bullets nailed Max in the chest and shoulders, hitting with the bruising force of rubber bullets.
"Ow! Hey!" Max yelled, stumbling back as the momentum of the barrage actually managed to push him.
The spar flipped. Armed with his infinite ammo supply, Kairu pressed the advantage. The slime didn't just sit still and shoot; he copied his master. He began forcefully channeling his immense magic stat into his lower body, creating explosive, pressurized bursts against the ground that launched him through the air in erratic, high-speed zig-zags.
It wasn't an elegant Shunshin, but it was an incredibly effective biological mimicry of the Body Flicker. Kairu bounded off the walls, a bouncing blue blur keeping perfect pace with Max, peppering him with heavy sniper fire from all angles.
Max was genuinely impressed. He's adapting in real-time. His density perfectly cancels out my PoD if he layers it right.
"Alright, you little monster. No more kid gloves."
Max dropped the PoD completely. If destruction wasn't working, he would rely on structure. He wanted to see how his new magic stat worked with the anime spells he loved.
He didn't bother with chants. Right now, he wanted to see their raw impact.
Max skidded to a halt and raised his hand.
"Hadō #4. Byakurai."
The lightning he used to snipe the Jack Birds erupted from his fingers. But it wasn't a thin bolt anymore. It was a blinding, roaring pillar of electricity the size of a tree trunk. It crashed into Kairu, forcing the slime to flatten himself against the ground, his Magic Resistance skill fighting furiously to disperse the massive voltage.
Before Kairu could reform, Max pivoted.
"Hadō #31. Shakkahō."
A massive orb of red flame materialized instantly, exploding against the dirt with enough force to send a shockwave rattling against the training room's dampeners.
Max laughed, the sheer, intoxicating glee of unrestricted power washing over him. He wasn't getting tired. His Mind reserves felt bottomless. Spells that used to require a chant just to stabilize were now popping off with a thought, their destructive yields magnified manyfold.
Let's keep climbing.
"Hadō #54. Haien."
A concentrated burst of pale violet flame erupted from his palm — not an explosion, but a focused, surgical column of annihilating fire. It hit the dirt in front of Kairu and simply erased a clean, two-foot circle of packed earth, leaving a perfectly smooth, glowing disc of scorched nothing. No debris. No shrapnel. Just absence.
Kairu stared at the hole, then looked up at Max with an unmistakable expression of deep, personal concern.
Max stared back at his own still-smoking hand, equally unsettled. That spell had always been one of the purer destruction-class Kidō in his memory. Seeing it fire without incantation, at that yield, with that precision — it confirmed what he was starting to suspect. His magic wasn't just amplified. It was refined.
"Let's push it!" Max yelled, the unsettled feeling immediately swallowed by euphoria. He aimed at a space near the ceiling, wanting to test the upper limits of his memory.
"Hadō #88. Hiryū Gekizoku Shinten Raihō!" (Flying Dragon-Striking Heaven-Shaking Lightning Cannon)
Without a single word of incantation, a colossal, straight beam of pale blue spiritual lightning tore from his outstretched palm. The sheer recoil pushed Max's boots an inch backward in the dirt. The beam crossed the arena in a microsecond and slammed into one of the heavy boulders meant for durability testing.
KRA-KOOOM.
The shockwave knocked Kairu flat. The boulder didn't just shatter; it exploded into fine dust and glowing shrapnel, the reinforced stone entirely obliterated by the raw elemental force.
The smoke cleared slowly, leaving a massive, scorched crater in the center of the training ground.
Max lowered his smoking hand, panting slightly, his heart hammering with absolute euphoria. He looked at the crater. Then he looked at Kairu, who had reformed and was staring at the hole in the ground with what could only be described as a terrified, wide-eyed jiggle.
"...Okay," Max breathed, forcing himself to lower his arms and let the adrenaline bleed away. "I think we found the ceiling. Now let's try to control it."
Kairu, seemingly understanding, shook himself out of his shock and bounced forward.
For the next thirty minutes, the tempo of the spar dropped drastically. It shifted from raw, elemental warfare to a clinical, meticulous dance of control. Max stopped using broad AOE attacks and instead tried to land glancing, controlled strikes of Shakkahō directly at Kairu's position without actually burning him. He practiced cutting his Shunshin bursts off precisely to the inch, ensuring he stopped perfectly balanced.
Kairu followed suit, refining his slime bullets from widespread buckshot into single, fast-moving pellets designed to tap Max's armor rather than bruise him, testing his master's manual parries instead of relying on Auto-Evade.
They moved with a synchronized harmony they hadn't possessed an hour ago. The bloated, unpredictable weight of their Level Up stats had been burned away, leaving behind taut, responsive control.
"That feels good," Max said, dropping his combat stance and letting Auto-Evade return to its original purpose. He felt centered again. Dangerous, but in control. "I think our calibration is complete."
Kairu agreed with a soft Ki. He clearly wasn't interested in wrecking the arena more than they already had.
Max glanced at the magical clock mounted on the wall of the training arena. It read 9:30 AM.
"Alright, that's time," Max exhaled, his breathing evening out rapidly. He walked over and patted the top of the slime's head. "Amazing spar, buddy. We need to do that more often. I actually feel like I own this body again."
Kairu chirped a happy Ki!, vibrating with the lingering adrenaline of the mock battle. The slime seemed genuinely thrilled to finally have the power to challenge his master directly without getting erased instantly.
They headed back to their suite. Max quickly hopped into the shower, washing off the sweat and grime of the morning's intense exertion. As he changed into a fresh set of casual day-clothes, his mind was already turning toward his long list of logistical goals for the day.
"Kairu," Max called out, adjusting his collar. The slime bounded over, looking expectant. "That grey metal you forged the rapier and your defensive blade out of—do you have any of that material left in your storage?"
Kairu nodded vigorously.
"Good. I want you to experiment with it. The structure is incredibly durable, and considering how well you funneled magic through it during the spar, I have a feeling it's highly conductive for mana."
An idea suddenly struck Max, his inner craftsman sparking to life alongside Kairu's new Mystery ability.
"Since your body absorbs and holds my magic so perfectly..." Max mused, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "Make rings. Different sizes. Make the band out of the grey metal, but hollow out the center and fill it with a small, condensed piece of your own slime body."
Kairu tilted his mass slightly. Ki?
"Think of it like a battery," Max explained, his eyes alight with the possibility of weaponized jewelry. "Once you make them, I want to see if I can pour a Kidō spell—like a level 60 Raikōhō or Rikujōkōrō—into the slime-center, and seal it. If the metal holds the structure and your slime holds the charge, we essentially create single-use magic rings."
It was the foundation for a whole new line of magical items he could eventually sell or distribute. If it worked, anyone who wore the ring could theoretically discharge a devastating Level 2 or 3 equivalent spell without needing their own magic reserves.
"If you run out of the metal, don't worry," Max continued, grabbing his storage pouch filled with loot. "Pivot back to your mitosis training. Try to split yourself and maintain the consciousness of at least one autonomous clone for an extended period. Once I'm back, we're going to experiment with a completely new type of projection magic I want to try."
Kairu waved a tiny, newly-formed pseudopod in a salute. Ki!
"Enjoy yourself, buddy," Max smiled, slipping out the door.
He made his way down to the dining hall. By the time he arrived, it was 9:50 AM, the massive cavernous room was mostly empty. The vast majority of the lower-level members were already outside bleeding in the training grounds for their daily Baptism, leaving only a scattering of Level 3 veterans lingering over their coffee.
Max quickly grabbed a plate of eggs, smoked meat, and thick bread, and sat down at an empty table to eat.
Just as he was finishing his final bite, he spotted a familiar, energetic figure heading toward the exit.
"Van!" Max called out, raising a hand.
The half-prum paused, turning around. His face lit up when he recognized the new recruit. Van jogged over, clapping Max on the shoulder.
"Max! You survived the grinder," Van grinned. "Heading out for your first official dungeon dive today?"
"Actually," Max said, taking a sip of water to wash down his meal, "I was diving for the past 2 days. Just got back a few hours ago."
Van raised an eyebrow, smirking playfully. "A night dive for your first run? Bold. Let me guess, you made it down to Floor 7 and got chased out by the ants? Let me know when you hit the Middle Floors. The real fun starts around Floor 13." He said with a laugh.
"I did," Max replied evenly, setting his cup down.
Van's smirk froze. He stopped walking and spun fully back to face Max. "You... you hit the Middle Floors?"
"I went to Floor 18 actually," Max corrected, keeping his tone casual. "The Under Resort."
Van's jaw physically dropped. The prum closed the distance instantly, grabbing Max's shoulders and practically shaking him in disbelief.
"You hit Rivira?! On your first dive?!" Van sputtered, his voice rising in volume. "Are you insane?! You went solo past the Coffin? Through the Cave Labyrinth?!"
Before Max could answer, a heavy set of footsteps approached the table. Trent, having noticed his sparring partner stalled in the dining hall, had come in from the courtyard to fetch him.
"What's holdin' ye up, Van? The lads are waitin' to get their skulls cracked," the older Dwarf rumbled, before his eyes landed on Max. "Ah. The fresh meat. Lookin' mighty clean for someone who's supposed to be workin'."
"Trent," Van said breathlessly, pointing at Max. "Tell him. Tell him what you did."
Trent squinted at the boy. "Did ye steal from the kitchens, lad?"
But before Max could speak.
"He reached Rivira," Van blurted out.
Trent stopped dead. The grizzled dwarf looked at Max, his thick eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. He looked at Max's posture, the lack of visible injury, and the quiet, steady confidence in the boy's eyes. The old dwarf's instincts flared, recognizing that this was not a lie.
"By the stone..." Trent whispered, his gruff demeanor cracking into genuine awe. "A solo run to the safe zone in less than a week. On your maiden dive?"
Max just smiled, choosing not to correct them. He gave them a summarized, heavily sanitized version of the events—mentioning the Hellhounds and the Infant Dragons, carefully not mentioning the rest.
Even the sanitized version was enough to leave both seasoned adventurers thoroughly impressed.
"Well I'll be damned," Trent laughed, a booming, hearty sound, clapping a massive hand on Max's shoulder. The impact was heavy, but Max barely shifted. "Ye actually survived. And prospered. I told 'em ye had iron in yer spine during the Baptism!"
"We've got to spar," Van said eagerly, his battle-junkie nature taking over. "When you're recovered, I want to see how you move now. You and me. In the ring."
"I'll take you up on that," Max agreed, standing up from the table. "Once my schedule clears up, we'll hit the yard."
"Ye owe us a drink, kid," Trent added, pointing a thick finger at him. "For reachin' Rivira so fast."
"Deal," Max grinned, shaking both their hands in turn.
Neither man said anything as he walked away. They didn't need to. They had felt the grip — the solid, unyielding density that hadn't been there during the Baptism. They exchanged a look and left it at that.
Max turned his steps toward the Familia's Merchant Shop.
-◈ -
The merchant shop was located in a sturdy, stone-built wing situated right beside the massive armory room. It wasn't designed for retail shopping; there were no display windows or flashy signs. It felt more like a highly secure banking institution, built for discrete, high-volume transactions.
Max entered through the reinforced oak doors and took in the atmosphere. The room was cool and smelled of polished wood, parchment, and counting chalk. Several clerks sat behind long, polished mahogany counters, quietly calculating ledgers and weighing small pouches of gems and magic stones.
As Max walked in, a junior clerk immediately stepped out from behind the counter. He took one look at Max's face, clearly recognizing him from the rumors flying around, and bowed slightly.
"Mr. Maximus. Please, follow me. Chief Raymond has been expecting you."
Max nodded, gesturing for the man to lead the way. He followed the clerk past the main floor, through a secondary set of guarded doors, and into a spacious, well-appointed private office.
Sitting behind a massive desk covered in neat stacks of parchment was a man who looked distinctly out of place in a Familia renowned for beautiful, lethal warriors. Raymond was bald, soft, and quite pudgy, wearing robes of exceptionally high quality that draped comfortably over his bulk. He had the sharp, calculating eyes of a man who dealt in fortunes daily.
"Welcome, Maximus," Raymond said, his voice smooth and polite as he gestured to a plush chair opposite him. "Lady Freya sent word early this morning. I am told you have a haul that requires my personal discretion?"
"Let's go with Max," he said, taking the seat and leaning back comfortably. He unclipped his storage bag and placed it on the polished mahogany. "And yes, she mentioned you're the man who handles the heavy lifting."
Raymond smiled, pulling a velvet sorting mat to the center of the desk. "Very generous of the mistress." He paused for a moment, giving Max an assessing look. "Let us see the yield from your first dive."
Max didn't hesitate. He grabbed the bottom of the bag and simply upended it.
The pile exploded outward. Hundreds of magic stones poured onto the mat, clattering like a localized hailstorm. Following the stones came a meticulously harvested, absurdly massive array of drop items: pristine Needle Rabbit's Tusks, thick cuts of Orc Hide, shimmering Crystal Mantis Wings, and heavy Hellhound Fangs. As the pile grew, threatening to spill off the mat entirely, out came bundles of soft Almiraj Fur and jagged Almiraj Horns, capped off by massive Minotaur Horns, rolls of tough Minotaur Skin, and sleek pelts of Ligerfang Fur.
The sheer volume of high-quality materials from Floors 8 through 18 kept coming, rapidly burying half the massive desk.
Raymond froze, his quill suspended in mid-air. As the Chief Merchant for Freya Familia, he was accustomed to auditing terrifyingly massive hauls. But those were brought back by the executives from deep-expedition dives.
Seeing a haul of this scale—entirely comprised of high-yield Middle Floor drops in flawless condition—from a recruit who had theoretically been in the Dungeon for less than a week? It defied logistical sense.
As his eyes scanned the pile, Raymond's gaze sharpened, a flicker of calculation crossing his face. "This is a haul from the lower Upper Floors and the Middle Floors," Raymond observed, his voice losing its pleasant veneer and becoming purely mercantile. "All of it. Am I correct to assume you already submitted the rest of the drops directly to the Guild?"
Max smirked. "I did."
Raymond's pudgy fingers paused over his ledger. A knowing smile tugged at his lips. "Word travels quickly among the city's financial sector. Would you, perchance, happen to be the same rookie who casually dropped three pristine Jack Bird eggs onto an advisor's desk yesterday?"
Max's smirk widened into a slow, thoroughly arrogant grin. He gave a single nod.
Raymond's posture straightened immediately, his eyes gleaming with newfound respect and sharp, acquisitive interest.
"I see. In that case, my curiosity is thoroughly piqued. Let us appraise this harvest properly, shall we?"
Raymond's professional instincts took over. His hands moved with blurring efficiency, sorting the stones by size and origin, tallying the drop items against the current market prices listed on his ledgers. He worked in focused, intense silence for nearly twenty minutes, calculating the sheer weight of the materials Max had dumped on him.
Finally, Raymond set down his quill, adjusted his ledgers, and looked up.
"An exceptional harvest," Raymond stated, his voice completely level, betraying none of his internal shock. "Given the current high market demand for Crystal Mantis Wings in fine weapon forging, and the purity of these Ligerfang pelts, your total gross is quite high. After applying the standard Familia operational tax and the Guild's baseline extraction fees..."
He tapped the final number on the parchment. "Your total liquid payout comes to exactly twelve point one million Valis."
12.1 Million, Max thought, a slow smile stretching across his face. Adding that to the 4.7 Million from the Guild yesterday... almost 17 million Valis.
"Excellent," Max nodded. "I am satisfied with the valuation."
"I will have the requisition drafted immediately," Raymond said, reaching for his stamp.
"Hold on. One more thing."
Max reached back into the storage bag. He bypassed the usual monster drops and dug into the secure pocket where Kairu had stored the spoils from the Infant Dragon hoard.
Max placed a heavy, brick-sized chunk of raw, unrefined gold onto the desk. Next to it, he carefully set down a gemstone. It was roughly the size of a plum, faceted naturally, and pulsed with a slow, hypnotic internal light that shifted through deep shades of violet and crimson, as if it contained a trapped, dying star.
Raymond froze. The merchant leaned forward instantly, producing a jeweler's loupe from his breast pocket and securing it over his eye. He picked up the gemstone with delicate, almost reverent care.
The room went absolutely silent as Raymond scrutinized the stone under a localized magic crystal.
The pudgy man had seen a lot of things cross this desk. He had audited bricks of pure Adamantine mined by the Gullivers in the lower floors. He had weighed Mythril brought back by Ottar from the deeper floors.
But this? This was different. He could feel the latent magical density practically singing against the skin of his palm. It wasn't just a shiny rock; it felt like condensed, solidified magic.
Raymond lowered the loupe, looking at Max with undisguised respect.
"I... must be honest with you, Maximus," Raymond said, his voice dropping into a hushed, confidential tone. "I do not immediately recognize the exact nature or the true market value of this gemstone. I suspect it is a heavily condensed elemental core, likely related to draconian lineage. If you can grant me a few days to consult with my discrete contacts, I will be able to provide you with a far more accurate—and undoubtedly lucrative—estimate."
"Take your time," Max nodded easily. The more he hesitates, the more it's worth. The thought made him feel a flicker of satisfaction.
"As for the gold," Raymond continued, pointing to the brick-sized chunk, "that is a standard commodity. I can pay out its precise value in weight right now. Based on the purity, this single chunk is worth roughly one and a half million Valis. Do you have more, or is this the extent of the—?"
Max didn't answer verbally. His smile widened into a full-blown, predatory grin.
He reached into the bag and pulled out a second golden brick. Then a third. A fourth.
He kept pulling them out, stacking them neatly on the desk until ten solid, identical blocks of raw, unrefined gold sat glittering before the merchant.
Raymond simply stared at the miniature mountain of wealth, a bead of sweat forming on his brow. The sheer monetary density of this transaction was turning into a logistical event usually reserved for returning expedition forces.
"I assume that changes the math," Max said mildly, thoroughly enjoying the show.
Raymond took a deep breath, removed his glasses, wiped them meticulously with a silk cloth, and put them back on. He nodded slowly, picking up his quill again.
"Indeed. Since unrefined gold is taxed at a significantly lower, flat commodity rate rather than the tiered monster-drop rate..." Raymond scratched out the new calculation. "The net yield on the gold is thirteen point five million Valis."
Raymond tapped the paper, sliding it across to Max.
"Your grand total for today's deposit, Master Maximus, is twenty-five point six million Valis."
Max sat back, looking at the number on the paper.
Less than two weeks in this world, and already sitting on thirty million Valis. Even he had to admit that was obscene.
It was a staggering sum for a rookie, but his pragmatic side, fueled by years of absorbing Danmachi lore, immediately began doing the math against Orario's economy. Thirty million was a massive stepping stone, but it wouldn't buy him everything he wanted yet.
He remembered the Hestia Knife from the canon timeline. That single, masterwork blade had put a goddess two hundred million Valis in debt. Goibniu charged Ais a fortune every time she shattered one of her swords. Top-tier, unbreakable custom weaponry—especially something that could withstand the Power of Destruction—cost hundreds of millions.
So, I can't buy the empire yet, Max reasoned, but I have more than enough for the down payment. I can begin the custom orders and get the base logistics running.
"I think," Max said, standing up and reaching across the desk to shake the merchant's hand, "that is going to do very nicely for a start."
Raymond took his hand, his grip firm. "How would you like the funds distributed? I can transfer the full amount to your internal Familia account for ease of access."
Max shook his head. "No."
He leaned forward, his voice dropping slightly. "I have... personal projects I need to fund. Liquidate the full amount. And the funds from my Guild exchange from yesterday..."
He pulled out the heavy leather pouches Rose had given him—just under 4.6 million Valis—and set them on the desk alongside the mountains of monster parts.
Raymond's eyebrows rose, but he didn't question it. It wasn't his business what a recruit did with his earnings, as long as the paperwork was clean.
"Distribute it like this," Max instructed, his tone taking on the easy authority. "One pouch with ten million. Three separate pouches with five million each. Put the remaining balance, plus the change from yesterday, into a smaller bag for walking around."
Raymond stared at him for a moment. This wasn't a standard withdrawal. This was an adventurer preparing to make a massive, off-the-books purchase. He made a mental note to discreetly inform the Goddess later.
"As you wish," Raymond said smoothly.
It took another fifteen minutes. Raymond summoned two clerks who began the painstaking process of counting out and bagging the enormous sum of currency. The clinking of coins was the only sound in the office.
Finally, four heavy, bulging sacks and one smaller, but still weighty, pouch sat on the desk.
Max didn't hesitate. He opened his storage bag and began feeding the heavy sacks into it. They vanished one by one into the extra-dimensional space, the small bag barely shifting in weight. He tucked the final, smaller pouch into the pocket of his tunic.
"Excellent," Max said, standing up and extending his hand again. "Thank you for your efficiency, Raymond."
"A pleasure, Master Maximus. We look forward to your next visit."
Max left the merchant's shop, feeling the comfortable weight of his money and the infinitely heavier potential of the thirty million Valis.
Before he hit the city proper, however, he had one final piece of internal business to handle.
He adjusted his tunic, rolled his shoulders once, and turned his steps deeper into the operational wing.
Hedin's office. The Light Elf had hung a price tag around his neck since he arrived. Today, Max was going to start paying it down — and enjoy every single coin of it.
--> Devil in a Dungeon <--
AN:
A full chapter focused on Max and it felt amazing to write! We see Max face off Kairu for the first time and he understands the little slime is stronger than he expected :)
Obviously, Max's intent was not erase Kairu, but he still tested the limits. Also, we see the final value of his loot and what's with the gems? Something fishy about them?
And of course as soon as he got money, the first he does is going to Hedin, lol. I guess I successfully failed my mission to make Max train under Hedin. Who knows what the future holds...
In the next chapter we will jump into max wandering Orario and maybe he will run into some familiar faces?
As always, don't forget to share your thoughts on the story in a review/comment.
If you'd like to read 8 chapters ahead(around 40k words), support my work, or commission a story idea, visit p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m/b3smash.
Please note that the chapters are early access only, they will be eventually released here as well.
Next update will be on Tuesday.
Ben, Out.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.