Folkvangr
Max
After the grand announcement, the polished halls of Folkvangr were surprisingly quiet. As the violent rhythm of the morning Baptism resumed in the courtyard, the Goddess and her executives dispersed. Max, who was in no particular rush to be anywhere, took his time following them inside.
He found Freya waiting for him near the main corridor, a knowing smile resting on her face. They fell into step together, the sound of their footsteps echoing softly as they ascended the grand staircase.
"Still avoiding me because of the executive decision?" she asked. Her tone was light, a clear attempt to bridge the awkward distance that had settled between them over the past ten days since Kairu's promotion.
Max blinked, genuinely caught off guard for a second, before shaking his head with a self-deprecating smirk. "No, my Lady," he replied. He glanced down at his collar, where Kairu was just beginning to peek out from the safety of his shirt. "Honestly, looking at the crowd out there... I don't know if he's the executive or I am. The coward got shy and hid the moment you announced it."
Freya's smile warmed into a genuine chuckle, and just like that, the lingering tension evaporated.
"Well," she said smoothly, her eyes softening, "I will need your shy executive in a few hours for the expedition. The bulk of our forces will hold and fortify Rivira, but the executives are pushing deeper immediately. We are aiming for Floor Thirty-Nine to establish a deeper teleportation network."
Max's eyes widened, a sharp spark of excitement overriding his laziness. Floor Thirty-Nine. There was one specific, highly lucrative spot he desperately wanted to reach in the Deep Floors, and now he had the perfect opportunity to bypass the grueling dive entirely.
"I'll send him over," Max agreed with a chuckle. "He should be able to ferry them straight down to Floor Twenty-Eight without an issue."
Freya nodded. "Hedin will also be joining them, so I would like him transferred as well. You are more than welcome to join them, if you are interested."
Max paused. With the teleportation network fully active, the petty side of him desperately wanted to charge the arrogant White Elf an extortionate toll just for the privilege of using his circles. However, this was an official Familia expedition. Despite their personal friction, Max wasn't a petty tyrant who disrupted logistics without warning. He decided he would serve Hedin the formal notice of his service fees after this trip.
"I appreciate the offer, Lady Freya, but I have to face off against the Amphisbaena soon to Level up, so my hands are tied," Max said respectfully. He paused, his expression shifting into something more calculated as they stopped on the first floor landing. "But speaking of executives... have you noticed any abnormal jumps in Hogni's growth recently?"
Freya blinked. She thought for barely a moment before nodding, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him. "Yes. He has come in for status updates much more frequently. His stat growth has noticeably accelerated, which is highly unusual for a Level Five." She tilted her head, looking at him as if dissecting a puzzle. "I assume this is your doing?"
Max smirked, leaning casually against the stone banister. "I've been running an experiment to see if my magical contracts could manipulate the flow of Excelia. In exchange for all monster stones and drop items to me, the contractor receives a boosted yield in experience. Since Hogni's growth proves it works, this expedition is the perfect testing ground. I can draft contracts for the rest of the executives. Kairu is going anyway; he can carry the loot."
Freya didn't look shocked. He figured that after seeing the logic-breaking depths of his magic firsthand, restructuring the Falna's experience yield probably just looked like another Tuesday to her. Instead, her eyes narrowed further, the Goddess clearly calculating the pure tactical advantage.
"I will agree, with one exception," Freya stated seamlessly, raising an elegant finger. "You may claim all monster stones and drop items up to Floor Thirty-Six. Anything obtained below that belongs strictly to them. If this contract truly yields the Excelia gains you claim, we can discuss better terms for our next expedition."
Max simply shrugged. "Deal."
Inwardly, he was perfectly content. He didn't mind the cap—he already had a mountain of other contracts, and the deep-floor drops would just be a bonus. He handed Freya a neat stack of magically bound parchment. She took them, scanning the intricate runic terms with deep fascination.
They reached the landing of the Executive floor, the heavy silence settling comfortably between them. Freya gave him a satisfied nod before parting ways, retreating toward her chambers.
Watching her disappear, Max let out a satisfied breath. The first piece was in play. Now, he just needed to make sure the network was ready.
Spotting a familiar dark cloak further down the corridor, Max immediately broke into a jog.
"Yo, Hogni! Hold up a second."
Hogni paused, turning with a dramatic swish of his cloak. "Ah, my comrade in the abyss! What dark machinations do you bring?"
Max rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Just the usual." He pulled out a massive stack of teleportation circles and shoved them into the dark elf's hands. "You already know how the distribution works. Just make sure the coverage is solid when you hit the deeper levels, alright?"
Hogni dropped the theatrics for a moment, weighing the heavy stack in his hands. He gave Max a reliable nod before pocketing the anchors and continuing on his way.
With the deep-floor transit secured, Max headed back to his quarters. The moment his heavy door clicked shut, he pulled Kairu from his shirt and set his familiar on the floor.
"Alright, Kairu. Make a clone."
As if nothing happened, the slime happily obliged, his form rippling as he seamlessly split into a secondary copy. Max instructed the original Kairu to transfer all the gems and heavy construction materials they had hoarded from Rivira into the clone's storage, before sending the loaded clone directly to his warehouse.
With a few hours to kill before the expedition departed, Max sat at his desk and pulled out the corrupted monster gem he cracked. Remembering what happened the last time he messed with it, he instructed Kairu to hold the gem, essentially using his highly resistant familiar as a living shock absorber just in case the crystal decided to violently explode.
With that safety measure in place, he got to work.
His first goal was to see if he could directly use the raw magic power stored inside. Drawing inspiration from chakra-drain techniques, he placed his hand on the gem and tried to siphon the energy. He already knew the slime could absorb it effortlessly, so having Kairu do it was useless for his own progression.
It took a few stubborn attempts, but Max finally managed to pull a thread of the energy into his own body. Instantly, the lingering corruption inside the monster crystal tried to poison him. The malicious 'intent' lashed out, only to be immediately crushed and neutralized by his own dense magic and the passive hum of his Destruction. Even though he neutralized the threat easily, the foreign magic felt alien and didn't actually boost his reserves in any meaningful way.
Seeing the direct absorption route as a failure, he pivoted.
Next, he tried using the gem as an external battery to fuel a Kidō spell. It clicked perfectly. Not wanting to be an idiot and accidentally drain the entire gem dry by conjuring a massive barrier like Dankū, he scaled his efforts back. Instead of rigid spells, he started channeling the energy to form simple constructs—a shimmering shield, a jagged spear, a glowing sword.
What started as a cautious experiment quickly morphed into a highly engaging training session. He practiced throwing the glowing weapons across the room, dispelling them, and actively calling them back to his hand. Lost in the satisfying rhythm of the exercises, the morning slipped by much faster than he realized.
Eventually, satisfied with the experiments, Max packed the gem away and sat on the edge of his bed. He gave his familiar a quick rundown of the lower-floor monsters based on what he remembered from the anime. Funnily enough, his memory of the specific monster spawns in the middle-lower floors was surprisingly blurry, aside from the massive Bloodsaurus that roamed between Floors Twenty-Nine and Thirty-Two. He did, however, remember the massive difficulty spike awaiting them further down.
"Just keep an eye out for the bloody dinosaurs," Max advised. "And when the expedition pushes down to Floor Thirty-Seven, you need to stay sharp. The monsters down there are a completely different breed of danger. Anything else? Just kill it before it kills you."
Kairu bounced happily, vibrating with the prospect of a hunt.
A few minutes later, a soft chime echoed in Max's mind. Freya's ping.
"That's your cue," Max said. He gave his familiar an affectionate pat on the head, warning him to stay safe, and in a flash of crimson light, sent Kairu on his way to join the expedition.
With his familiar deployed, Max mentally checked the expedition off his list. That just left the merchant side of things.
Activating another circle, Max stepped directly into his warehouse. Rimuru was already there, putting the Rivira construction materials to use. Max joined his clone, and they spent the next few hours quietly reinforcing the basement's interior framework. As they worked, they casually went over the logistics of their growing business, calculating future ring yields and mapping out supply chains. The physical labor and planning easily ate up the rest of the afternoon.
They had just moved on to organizing the massive crates of rings when a sharp ping rang directly in Max's mind.
Max 'picked up' the call, and a familiar voice came through the link.
"Mister Maximus," Rehmer said quickly, his voice tight with urgency. "I have good news. The public teleportation proposal has been officially approved. The Guild is ready to begin our endorsement immediately."
Max leaned against a crate, a wave of vindicated satisfaction washing over him. Serves you right for stalling my business, he thought smugly. He wasn't surprised in the slightest; it had only taken a few hours after Freya's military outpost was established in Rivira for the Guild to panic. Endorsing his public network was their only way to ensure they didn't lose complete logistical control of the Dungeon.
"Happy to begin, Rehmer," Max replied smoothly via the mental link, keeping his smugness out of his voice. "The store will be up and running in an hour."
He ended the connection and looked at Rimuru with a triumphant grin. "We got the green light. Pack it up, we're moving."
Rimuru placed a hand on the nearest crate. The inventory was engulfed in a purple magic circle, and a second later, they were standing on the polished stone of the Babel storefront.
Because the operation was essentially two different businesses, they split up the work. Rimuru immediately started cracking open the crates to arrange the retail side, while Max walked over to check the teleportation hub.
Originally, Max had planned to use a single circle for transit. However, anticipating a massive rush of adventurers desperate to skip the grueling upper floors, he had scrapped that idea to prevent a lethal bottleneck. Instead, they had torn down the wall to the adjoining room, dividing the massive hub into two distinct halves—one exclusively for sending, and one for receiving.
Max verified the network, checking the mechanical numbering devices hooked up to the circles that clearly displayed where a party was heading or arriving from. Soon, Guild employees would arrive to officially oversee this transit side, verifying falnas and keeping the "mysterious merchant" comfortably out of the spotlight.
Once Max confirmed the dual-gate system was flawless, he returned to help Rimuru finish the retail floor. They worked quickly, installing clear display boards that listed the level caps for specific rings and their exact magical effects. While Rimuru spread the rings across secure glass displays, Max installed tall Detection Antennas flanking the exits. Keyed directly to his magical signature, they functioned perfectly as anti-theft gates. As a final touch, they set up a reinforced testing room off to the side so adventurers could safely learn how to trigger the rings before taking them into the dungeon.
Dusting off his hands, Max took a step back. The shop was pristine, well-lit, and quiet, just waiting for the doors to open.
Leaving Rimuru to man the retail front, Max retreated into the heavily warded surveillance room in the back. He sank into a comfortable leather chair, kicked his feet up onto the desk, and let out a long sigh as he watched the monitors.
He was just settling in, finally getting a moment to breathe, when another ping echoed in his mind.
Max frowned. The magical signature he was feeling was definitely not Rehmer, even though the resonance was coming from the exact same bracelet the liaison usually used. Not to mention, this connection had an ethereal quality to it...
Curious, he opened the connection to see who had hijacked the line. "Hello? Who is this?"
A heavy pause stretched across the link.
"Is this Maximus?" a woman's voice asked. It was sharp, calculating, and oddly composed.
"Yes," Max answered, his mind racing.
He waited for her to introduce herself, but the silence stretched on. That's when he analyzed the tone, the utter lack of background noise, and the sheer audacity required to commandeer a Guild communication line. He thought about who would actually possess the sheer political leverage to casually bypass Rehmer and take possession of the Guild's bracelet. Realistically, there were only two options.
"Am I speaking to Lady Loki?" He asked.
-◈ -
Loki
On the other side of the call, Loki's eyes widened in genuine surprise. The breath caught in her throat, her mind completely short-circuiting for a fraction of a second. She hadn't introduced herself or gave any hint. Royman was supposed to be the only one who knew she had this bracelet.
Then how?
Sprawled sideways across a plush sofa in the Twilight Manor, one leg dangling off the armrest, she went still. The playful smirk she usually wore froze on her face. Her vermillion eyes, lazily half-shut just a moment ago, were now wide open and focused entirely on the ceiling.
She replayed his voice in her mind, dissecting every syllable. He didn't hesitate or phrased it as a question out of uncertainty—he said it as a courtesy. As if he already knew.
She turned the Guild's bracelet over in her fingers, running through the possibilities. For a paranoid second, she wondered if the device was flawed—if there was some latent enchantment woven into the metal allowing the receiver to passively track the caller. A perfectly designed snare, gifted by Freya to map her rivals. It would be elegant. It would be very Freya.
But Loki dismissed the thought almost immediately. Royman didn't have the spine for that kind of deception, and Ouranos would dissolve any such enchantment the moment it crossed his desk. Nobody in Orario was foolish enough to test the Elder God's patience that openly.
Which left only one logical conclusion. Unless Royman had actively tipped him off, this boy only had her voice, her tone, and the sheer audacity of the connection to work with. And in all of Orario, there were exactly two people outside of his own Goddess who could force the Guild to hand over a prototype communication line: Ouranos, and herself.
This boy—this Maximus—had deduced her identity purely from a cold read of the city's political landscape. In under ten seconds.
The frozen smirk on Loki's face thawed, curling into something far sharper and more genuine.
"Well," she drawled, letting her voice slip back into its easy rhythm as she pushed herself upright. "Color me impressed, kid. You've got quite the brain rattling around in that skull of yours." She tilted her head, her eyes glinting with amusement and something that felt dangerously close to respect. "Tell you what. Since you're clearly sharp enough to handle a private conversation—are you willing to answer a few of my questions and keep this little chat between us? No need to let the crazy lady in your Familia know we're talking."
A beat of silence stretched across the call.
Loki waited, listening to the faint, static hum of the magical link. She could practically feel the gears turning in his head.
"I can do that," Max finally replied, his voice unhurried and composed. "But I'm not in the habit of giving out information for free. I have a proposition. In exchange for my answers, I want Ais Wallenstein to train under me for one month."
The casual amusement vanished from Loki's face as if the wind had blown it clean off.
She sat perfectly still for a moment. Then her mind ignited.
Why Ais? What is his interest in my Little Princess? Is this Freya's doing? A dozen competing suspicions fired at once, each one more alarming than the last. If Finn ever found out she had agreed to hand their most gifted prodigy over to a member of the Freya Familia for an entire month, the Pallum would have a meltdown on the spot. The image alone was almost worth the chaos.
But her tactical instincts immediately threw up a counterargument, ruthlessly dismantling her initial panic.
She pressed her fingers to her chin, thinking clearly. This kid had just pulled off a logistical operation that had blindsided the entire city—the Guild, the major Familias, and possibly the Dungeon itself. He possessed teleportation and instant long-range communication. Two abilities, either alone, would be considered priceless strategic assets. Together, they were almost obscenely powerful. If he was physically capable of backing up his intellect, the potential benefits of Ais training under someone like that were staggering.
There was only one thing Loki needed to confirm before she committed.
"What Level are you?" she asked. All the playful cadence had left her voice entirely. It was a clean, direct question from a goddess no longer pretending to be relaxed.
A low chuckle came through the bracelet.
Despite herself, an involuntary smirk tugged at the corner of Loki's mouth. She had no idea why she found that chuckle immediately disarming.
"Level Three," Max answered. "But after this weekend, I will be Level Four."
Loki's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.
Such unshakeable confidence. She turned the words over in her mind, tasting them. Weekend. Level Up. Guaranteed. Her gaze drifted toward the window, the implications assembling themselves with frightening speed.
A weekend solo dive. A certain Level Up. A guaranteed kill.
"You're going to face the Amphisbaena," Loki realized aloud, her voice barely above a murmur.
Finn had been quietly mapping out a push toward Floor Twenty-Seven on the expedition's return route, hoping to farm the Monster Rex for high-tier Excelia gains. But if this boy had a teleportation network that could punch straight through the dungeon... Finn might arrive to find the spawn already cold.
She hated that he held the logistical monopoly. But she found herself completely enchanted by the arrogant certainty in his voice. He wasn't boasting or posturing. To him, Amphisbaena's death was already written, and he was just informing her of the schedule.
"Alright, kid," Loki said. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, a sharp grin splitting her face. "You've got yourself a deal. If you actually manage to pull off that Level Up, Ais trains with you. We'll agree on the exact timeline after."
"Perfect," Max said instantly.
And just like that, the lightness vanished from his voice entirely. The shift was immediate and perfectly clean.
"What can I help you with today, Lady Loki?"
All of her scattered focus narrowed to a single point. "What is the true intent behind Freya establishing a permanent forward base in Rivira right now?"
She waited, listening carefully, ready to catch any hesitation or deflection.
"What makes you think I know the answer to that?" Max asked, his voice carrying a note of genuine-sounding curiosity. "I'm not an executive. I wasn't even on the team that oversaw the physical construction. I'm just a—"
"Cut the act, kid," Loki interrupted, her voice quiet and utterly flat. "I thought you'd be more forthcoming, given that you just secured a very generous benefit from me."
A brief pause drifted over the line. Loki could practically hear the smirk spreading across his unseen face. He knew what she had just done. She hadn't asked how they built it or when they planned it; she had gone straight for the intent.
"Fair enough," Max conceded quietly. "It was primarily established to serve as a surveillance hub. Specifically, to monitor Evilus."
The silence on Loki's end of the line was absolute.
Evilus. The word landed in her mind, instantly setting off alarms. Those wretched, cowardly cockroaches.
"As a secondary function," Max continued, his voice level and unhurried, "it serves as a supply and rest point for allied Familias. We all know the kind of environment Rivira fosters. And finally, it provides a secure location to actively train, taking advantage of the Dungeon's self-repairing properties."
But the last two reasons barely registered. They were just backdrop noise.
"Are you telling me Evilus has an active entrance into the Dungeon on Floor Eighteen?" Loki asked, her voice tight and controlled even as her mind raced through the catastrophic logistical implications.
"I'm not telling you," Max corrected, with a quiet certainty that left no room for doubt. "I know it. Their base of operations sits on Daedalus Street. It connects to a hidden passage into Rivira—and most likely into the lower floors as well."
The pieces Loki had been unconsciously collecting for weeks violently snapped into place.
Freya's inexplicable drive to plant a permanent flag on Floor Eighteen. The carefully worded operations Ouranos had told her they would discuss properly once her executives returned from the dungeon. Every strange, out-of-place detail that had been sitting in the back of her mind suddenly resolved into a single, coherent picture. It wasn't an arms race between Familias. It was a shadow war, and it had apparently already begun.
But underneath that realization, something else was quietly nagging at her. She had been trying to put her finger on the oddness in the boy's voice since the moment the connection opened—something that sat wrong in a way she couldn't immediately categorize.
Listening to him speak about Evilus and Rivira with the detached certainty of someone reciting known facts rather than offering theories, she finally understood what it was. She had no way to tell if he was lying. Not because his delivery was vague or evasive, but because his speech felt fundamentally different, as if they were speaking entirely different languages.
That was when her previous thought about Ouranos mentioning someone special surfaced quietly in her mind.
Suddenly, everything slotted into the picture with devastating precision. Before her rational mind could weigh the wisdom of it, her mouth had already moved.
"I want to see what you look like. Can you teleport here right now?"
She clicked her tongue the instant the words left her, sharp and self-critical. There was nothing indecent in the question itself—she was simply curious, the way a mortal naturalist might be irresistibly curious about a creature they had never encountered before. But showing that curiosity this openly, to him of all people, was not her most dignified moment.
A warm chuckle resonated through the bracelet.
"I would love to, my Lady," Max replied, his voice carrying a note of genuine amusement that managed to be neither mocking nor unkind. "However, I am currently in the middle of something."
Loki opened her mouth to formulate a suitably barbed response—
The heavy door at the far end of the lounge swung open.
Noir stepped into the room again. He was holding a sealed scroll, and from across the room, Loki could clearly make out the dark blue emblem of Ouranos pressed into the wax.
She looked at it for a moment. Then she exhaled through her nose.
"Cocky brat," Loki muttered under her breath, though the sharp grin stretching across her face rather undermined the insult. "In that case, I will look forward to seeing your face at the upcoming Denatus. I'm going to make sure you get a very befitting alias."
Max laughed—an unguarded sound, completely unafraid of the implicit threat. "I look forward to it. Have a good day, Lady Loki."
The magical connection severed with a clean click.
Loki sat back against the sofa cushions. She turned the bracelet slowly between her fingers, staring at nothing in particular. Noir stood patiently by the door, scroll in hand, waiting.
The board had just been violently reset, and for the first time in years, the Trickster Goddess had absolutely no idea how the game was going to end.
-◈ -
The Pantheon
General Pov
The secure antechamber beneath the Guild was stifling, thick with the scent of burning incense and an oppressive silence. Reserved exclusively for the gods and accessible only through a warded descent at the back of the Pantheon, it served as the final waiting room before entering Lord Ouranos's Sacred Altar.
Currently, it was occupied by a man on the verge of a panic attack.
Royman stood by the heavy stone doors, sweating through the collar of his pristine ceremonial robes. He wrung his hands, his mind churning through a dozen political nightmares. He was praying, rather desperately, that Lady Loki had managed to persuade Maximus against throwing the entire city into chaos.
The old elf deeply regretted trying to play hardball with the boy's business plans over the past week. He should have approved the public teleportation network immediately, rather than stalling the retail operations to squeeze out a new tax bracket. He had tried to play traditional bureaucratic games with a walking anomaly, and the boy had responded by simply helping his familia bypass the Guild entirely to seize Floor 18. Now, all the Guildmaster could do was stand by the door and prepare himself for the fallout.
The grinding of the secret entrance swinging open yanked him from his spiraling thoughts.
Goddess Ishtar marched into the room. She didn't speak, but the sweet scent of her perfume turned acrid in the enclosed space, betraying a fury that left her attendant trembling in her wake with his eyes glued firmly to the floor.
Royman pressed his back against the stone wall, bowing in greeting, but the agitated goddess ignored him entirely. Without a word, she strode toward the lounging area, snatched a crystal goblet of imported wine from the table, and gripped it until her knuckles went white.
CRACK.
The glass shattered. Dark wine and beads of divine blood splattered across the polished stone floor, but Ishtar didn't flinch.
"The absolute audacity," Ishtar hissed, the words slipping through her teeth. "Who does that silver-haired bitch think she is?!"
Royman stayed perfectly silent, watching the wine pool near his boots. A part of him wanted to agree with her—Goddess Freya's land grab was a bureaucratic nightmare—but decades of survival instinct kept his mouth shut. He produced a silk handkerchief, stepping forward to silently offer it to the attendant, playing the invisible diplomat while Ishtar seethed.
The room's heavy pressure broke as a familiar whistle echoed from the hall.
Lord Hermes strolled through the entrance, his signature feathered hat tipped back casually. He offered a carefree greeting to the room at large, while his captain stepped in behind him with a measured nod to the Guildmaster. Hermes took one look at the shattered glass, read the murderous set of Ishtar's jaw, and altered his trajectory. Deploying a disarming smile, he stepped into her space, weaving useless flatteries to keep her occupied before she could break the furniture.
But the delicate diplomacy didn't last.
"I AM GANESHA!"
The elephant-masked god marched through the archway to strike a dramatic pose, his jovial companion Adi trailing behind with a fond smile. But it was the two figures accompanying them that made Royman's breath catch painfully in his throat.
Lady Astraea entered the room with a quiet grace, followed closely by her vice-captain, Kaguya.
Seeing the Goddess of Justice brought a heavy knot to Royman's gut. For political expediency, and out of a cowardly fear of upsetting the city's shaky balance, he had repeatedly delayed Guild support for her rapidly growing Familia. The shame of that bureaucratic maneuvering felt suddenly suffocating in the presence of her uncompromising purity. It made his own corruption itch, leaving his feet rooted to the floor.
Hermes, ever the observant spider in the web, noticed the old elf's paralysis instantly. The Messenger God pivoted away from Ishtar's simmering wrath and casually bridged the gap between the new arrivals.
"Astraea, Ganesha! A pleasure to see you both, though the circumstances could certainly be better," Hermes greeted, leaning against a surviving table.
"Indeed, Hermes!" Ganesha boomed, dropping his theatrics and crossing his thick arms. His tone lowered, the foolish persona replaced by the city's lead peacekeeper. "To think a single Familia would establish a permanent fortress in the Under Resort! It disrupts the delicate balance of the Dungeon! But fear not, for Ganesha will keep the peace!"
Astraea offered a troubled smile. "It is unprecedented," she agreed softly, her clear eyes reflecting genuine concern. "The eighteenth floor has always been a sanctuary, however lawless. If Lady Freya intends to monopolize the transit and safety of the middle floors, it will severely hinder the growth and survival of the smaller Familias."
"Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about a monopoly just yet," Hermes chuckled, walking a gold coin across his knuckles. "Freya might be bold, but she isn't foolish enough to anger the entire city at once without a trump card."
Hermes kept his smile bright, but behind his eyes, his mind raced. A fortress built overnight. A logistical bypass. It gave him the exact same terrifying chill as the afternoon two hundred and fifty-seven million Valis had been extorted from his grasp. He knew exactly whose fingerprints were on this operation, and he was dying to see how the board was about to flip.
The heavy stone doors opened again.
This time, Loki strolled in. Her hands were shoved deep into the pockets of her trousers, her posture a picture of lazy indifference, with the grizzled veteran Noir walking quietly at her heel.
As she passed the entrance, Loki's vermillion eyes slid sideways to catch Royman's terrified gaze. Without breaking her stride, the Trickster Goddess gave the sweating Guildmaster a subtle wink.
A wave of relief washed over Royman, his shoulders slumping. The negotiation worked.
Hermes caught the micro-expression. His coin stopped flipping, his eyes narrowing slightly behind his smile. Loki seemed too comfortable for a Goddess whose greatest rival had just claimed a massive strategic advantage. What do you know, Loki?
Before Hermes could probe the Trickster, the temperature in the antechamber plummeted. Conversation died in the throats of the assembled gods as the secret entrance had opened for the final time.
Freya stepped into the room. She moved with an air of indifferent elegance, her silver eyes sweeping over her peers as if evaluating a display of mildly interesting statues.
Ottar stepped in behind her like a dark monolith. His presence was a towering physical reminder of Freya's military supremacy, but he remained perfectly still, keeping his aura tightly banked so his Goddess could command the room entirely.
Ishtar's breath hitched. She glared at Freya, her hatred palpable, but her eyes betrayed her as they flicked to Ottar's imposing frame for a fleeting second. A hungry fantasy of breaking the Warlord and dragging him into her Pleasure Quarter warred openly with her venom for the woman he served.
Before Ishtar could open her mouth to ignite the powder keg, a grinding rumble shook the floor beneath them.
The massive stone doors to the Sacred Altar slowly pulled open, spilling pale blue light and the scent of ancient dust into the antechamber.
Royman instantly stepped aside. He bowed deeply from the waist, using the formal protocol of the Guild to break the glaring contest between the Goddesses.
The deities filed into the cavernous chamber. High upon his central throne, illuminated by the eternal torches, Ouranos sat waiting. He did not move, nor did he speak. His presence alone carried the weight of the sky, a crushing gravity that forced even the most arrogant gods to quiet their footsteps.
Once they all entered, the heavy doors sealed shut behind them with a final thud.
The absolute ruler of the Guild looked down at the assembled Deities, letting the heavy silence stretch for one terrifying heartbeat to establish his domain.
Then, Ishtar snapped.
"I will declare a War Game right here and now!" she shrieked. The sudden volume broke all decorum, echoing violently off the high stone walls as she pointed a trembling finger directly at the Goddess of Beauty. "If you do not immediately vacate your hold on Rivira, Freya, the Ishtar Familia will burn your pathetic fortress to the ground!"
From the sidelines, Loki let out an amused snort.
For her part, Freya didn't even bother to turn her head. Treating the shrieking Goddess like nothing more than background noise, she rested her chin on her hand and locked her eyes directly onto Ouranos, waiting for the Elder God to speak with an expression of utter boredom.
High on his throne, Ouranos narrowed his eyes on Ishtar.
--> Devil in a Dungeon <--
AN:
Woah, that is a tough chapter to write. As I spent half the time improving the first part and at one point, even thought of removing it as a whole due to its length, but in the end felt the scene adds value to the story overall. Hopefully Loki's scene came out well and now Max will possibly train Ais at some point in the future. Any suggestions on how Max should help her?
Aside from that, how do you think the Ouranos will deal with Ishtar and what do you all think about her threat to declare War Game, hmm? Any suggestions what the Gods should ensure going forward?
The Gods shown are the important ones concerned with the sudden change in Rivira. Hephaestus doesn't care, Apollo and other possible candidates are not strong/influential enough to get a call, so yeah.
Just to be clear, the bracelet Rehmer was using was the one Royman took for himself. It is always with Rehmer as Royman doesn't want to deal with Max directly and Royman sent it to Loki after Rehmer talked to Max about the approval.
If you have any questions on the story, please ask as I will be answering all questions from where we left off last time on Thursday morning. Non-spoilers obviously.
Please share your feedback/suggestions on how to improve the story in a comment/review.
If you'd like to read 9 chapters ahead(around 45k words), support my work, or commission a story idea, visit my 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 Friday.
Ben, Out.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.