General Pov
The heavy doors finally blew inward, torn off their hinges by a devastating double-kick. Wood shrapnel rained across the luxurious carpet as the Evilus assault team poured into the room. Through the settling dust, Dina and Vena stepped forward. They were covered in blood that wasn't their own, wearing identical sadistic smiles as they scanned the smoke for their prize.
"Oh, Loookiiii~!" Dina called out in a mocking, sing-song voice.
"Come out, come out, wherever you—" Vena's taunt died in her throat.
As the smoke cleared, it didn't reveal a cowering flat-board Goddess or a group of exhausted mages like she was expecting.
Instead, she could see multiple shadowy figures waiting in the room, and had to really focus through the dust to catch their features.
To the left, standing in a synchronized diamond formation, were four heavily armored Pallums, their weapons gleaming in the dim light.
To the right, a catman casually leaned on a silver spear, locking onto the sisters with the predatory focus of a starving beast. Beside him stood an elegant white elf adjusting his glasses with deadly poise, followed by a silver-haired dark elf who slowly drew a cursed black sword, his eyes glowing a blood-drenched crimson.
As the sisters' eyes caught the striking visages of Hedin and Hogni, for a fleeting moment, their hearts skipped a beat at the refined presence of the two lovely elves.
But that brief flutter was instantly swallowed by suffocating terror when their gaze shifted to the center of the room.
Towering over all of them like a statue of dark armor, the Warlord of Orario slowly raised his massive greatsword, his eyes empty of anything resembling mercy.
The sadistic smirks slid off the sisters' faces, replaced instantly by the icy paralysis of unavoidable death.
They hadn't breached a sanctuary. They had kicked down the door to a slaughterhouse.
-◈ -
Ottar
Despite the fortress of unshakeable calm he projected on the outside, the instant jump across nearly forty floors had hit Ottar with a jarring lurch.
It was becoming increasingly evident that with every use of this teleportation, his biology violently protested the space violation. His inner ear spun wildly, the frictionless displacement threatening to scramble his equilibrium.
But before the nausea could truly root itself in his gut, he felt a soft, gelatinous weight settle lightly against his pauldron. A tiny wisp of azure light seeped through the thick plating of his dark armor, sinking into his skin and instantly neutralizing the vertigo. His senses snapped back to their razor-sharp baseline.
Grateful for the sudden relief, Ottar's eyes flicked briefly toward his shoulder.
It was the blue blob. Maximus's familiar.
A genuine spike of surprise pierced the Warlord's stoicism. Just a second ago, right before the crimson light had consumed them, the creature had been resting squarely on Hogni's shoulder. How did it cross the gap between them during a spatial jump?
More importantly, how did a monster recognize the subtle signs of his spatial sickness—a weakness Ottar took absolute pride in hiding—and applied the exact magical antidote required to cure it? Was this the creature's own terrifying intuition, or simply another layer of Maximus's overarching design?
Knowing he did not have the luxury to pursue the mystery now, Ottar filed the observation away. His mind, honed by decades of unrelenting battle, seamlessly compartmentalized the anomaly as his focus snapped to the wooden doors ahead.
During the brief wait for the teleportation to trigger, the executives had not been idle. They had rapidly outlined a series of combat contingencies. The specific tactics varied depending on exactly what kind of Evilus force was waiting for them, but two constants anchored every plan: He would serve as the main attacking force, and all exits would be severed the very second they materialized.
As the heavy doors groaned, buckled, and blew inward with a concussive crash—raining wood shrapnel and dust across the luxurious carpet—the executioners of Folkvangr jumped into action without waiting for a single prompt or command.
The diamond formation broke with synchronized precision. Allen, closely acquainted with hunting down the dark coalition's remnants, kicked off the floorboards hard enough to crack the floor. A black streak of pure malice, the catman blurred to the right flank, instantly cutting off the windows.
As Hogni melted into the shadows of the left flank, the cursed aura of Victim Abyss flooding the space, Ottar caught a flash of blue in his peripheral vision.
Kairu had launched himself off Ottar's pauldron, seamlessly reattaching to the Dark Elf's shoulder mid-way. Ottar quickly processed the sheer absurdity of the familiar's capabilities, but he didn't dwell on it for long.
Hedin and the Gulliver Brothers surged straight past the flanks, hitting the shattered doorway like a localized earthquake to violently box the incoming wave of grunts inside the narrow corridor.
In a matter of seconds, the Loki Familia's sanctum was transformed into an airtight cage.
Standing dead center in the room, perfectly still, Ottar looked through the settling dust as the two figures who had broken in came fully into view.
Dina and Vena Dis.
Their sadistic bravado fractured into horror the moment they made eye contact with him. For others, they might be the elite Level 5 assassins—killers capable of slaughtering entire Familias on their own. But as Ottar's eyes locked onto them, his tactical mind processed the threat level and came to an undeniable conclusion.
This will not be hard.
To the Warlord, they were not grand threats. They were merely rabid dogs that had crossed a fatal line.
By daring to siege the stronghold of his Goddess's designated rival while the Loki vanguard was deep in the Dungeon, Evilus had set a deeply offensive precedent. If these vermin harbored the delusion that they could exploit a momentary absence to topple a pillar of Orario, it was only a matter of time before that same suicidal audacity led them to bare their fangs at Folkvangr.
Such thoughts had to be preemptively crushed before they could even take root in the shadows.
Without a second of delay, Ottar shifted his stance, his heavy boots sinking slightly into the plush carpet as he drew his greatsword back. Charging with the crushing momentum of a falling mountain, he swept his blade in a horizontal arc. It was a devastating strike aimed cleanly at their necks—carrying the terrifying weight of the Warlord's supremacy to exterminate them exactly as his Mistress decreed.
-◈ -
Dis Sisters
The sadistic high carrying them up the stairs curdled the instant the smoke thinned.
Dina's eyes widened first, then Vena's. Both froze as the picture settled. Freya Familia executives. Every last one of them. The four armored pests. The black-haired cat with the spear. The silver-haired dark elf. The white elf with the glasses. And right in the middle, the towering black mountain of the Warlord himself, his greatsword already rising.
"Big sister Dina... how?" Vena's voice sang the question, though her fingers dug painfully into Dina's sleeve. "There was no spy. There couldn't be a spy. So how are they here instead of the flatboard and her tired mages?"
Dina didn't answer. Her gaze bypassed the Vanguard and locked onto Hogni.
He stood half in shadow, his cursed blade drawn, eyes glowing a bloody crimson. Every line of his body wound tight with killing intent. The sight punched through her panic and lit a hungry warmth in her chest. Her cheeks flushed and lips parted in a breathless sigh.
"Oh... look at him," Dina whispered, using the cheerful lilt she reserved for fresh kills. "All serious and tense for us. He's so pretty when he's ready to cut someone open. Vena, this is it. This is our chance. We butcher these dogs, and then Hogni is mine. Just mine. No more waiting. No sharing."
Vena's fear cracked into a feverish grin as her eyes found the white elf adjusting his glasses with perfect poise. Hedin. Her pulse jumped. Her fingers twitched, desperate to reach out and ruin him.
"Yes, big sister," Vena answered, her tone bright, already half-lost in fantasy. "And look at my Hedin. So clean. So precise. I want to make him dirty. With you in front and me behind, nothing stops us. Not even the Warlord. We'll paint the walls with their blood, and then we get our wedding nights. You take Hogni. I take Hedin. Forever."
But the Freya executives didn't oblige their fantasy.
Moving without a command, Hedin, and the Gulliver brothers melted outward. They bypassed the sisters entirely, fanning into the ruined corridors as if to butcher the grunts accompanying them.
They cleared the center of the room like a stage, leaving only Ottar behind.
Vena blinked, her manic smile faltering into a disappointed pout as her beloved White Elf disappeared into the smoke. "Big sister... they're leaving. Do you think our delicate cargo will be alright out there with them?" she whispered innocently.
Dina merely shrugged, her emerald eyes locking onto the Warlord remaining in the center of the room.
"If he had brains, he would direct everything from the outside instead of jumping in with us," Dina said dismissively, twirling her stiletto. "Even if they kill him, it won't make a difference. Most of his fighting force got themselves killed in the dungeon anyway."
She playfully tapped Vena's arm, her voice dropping its gossipy tone to become lethal. "Focus on the pig, Vena. He's coming."
The air in the sanctum felt thinner, charged with an oppressive gravity as Ottar moved.
That didn't deter the sisters from showing their feelings as both of them twisted their faces into the exact same furious pout.
"Nooo!" Dina whined, stamping one foot in genuine irritation. "Why is the ugly pig coming at us? I want Hogni! Send me Hogni!"
"He's mine to break!" Vena echoed, her voice climbing into a shriek of protest. "Hedin should stand there! Not this brute! This is unfair! This is heresy!"
Unbothered by the tantrums, Ottar raised his greatsword. He didn't speak or posture. He simply brought the massive steel down, intending to cleave them both in half before moving to the next task.
Seeing the approaching specter of death, Dina moved on survival instinct. She seized Vena's wrist.
"Diaval Stige!"
Crimson light exploded across them both. The curse ripped half of Vena's strength and agility free and poured it straight into Dina's body. Muscle densified. Veins stood out sharp against her skin. Simultaneously, Dina's own endurance and magic drained into her sister, turning Vena's already vicious magical output into something capable of leveling a district. Their statuses spiked into the raw territory of a pseudo Level 6, and for one perfect heartbeat, the world felt right again.
Then Dina threw her stiletto up to meet the greatsword.
CLANG—!
The sound didn't justify the impact as the shockwave hit harder than a physical blow. Glass surviving the door explosion finally shattered to dust. The plush carpet tore free of its nails in a rippling wave.
Vena was nearly flung across the room; only her arms locked desperately around Dina's waist kept her from becoming a smear on the far wall. Dina's boots carved twin trenches through the wood and stone beneath them. Her arms shook violently and her teeth cracked against each other as the force drove her back three steps before she managed to lock her knees.
"Vena—now!" Dina screamed, the strain breaking her cheerful facade.
Vena laughed, delighted, treating the near-death experience like a private joke. Fireballs bloomed from both palms, screaming across the sanctum in every direction. The hungry spheres slammed into walls, furniture, and the air itself, painting the room in rolling sheets of red-black fire. The heat licked Dina's skin but left her untouched; the sisters' curse bond ensured her safety.
Everything else began to burn.
While Ottar simply stepped back. One clean leap carried him clear of the inferno. The fireballs chased him, dying uselessly against empty air once he passed the ten-meter threshold.
Then, the temperature in the room violently inverted.
Ice exploded from nowhere. It wasn't a spell cast from a staff or a chanted verse. Just a wave of localized cold that swallowed the lingering fireballs mid-flight, flash-froze them into jagged crystal spheres, and shattered them to glittering dust.
CRACK—SHATTER—TINK! TINK!
The brutal thermal shock finished what Ottar's first strike started. The floorboards, blackened by fire and then flash-frozen, screamed as they contracted. The main support beams cracked. With a stony groan, the entire center of the room simply gave way.
Vena's head whipped around, her eyes wide, still smiling even as the floor vanished beneath her feet. "Big sister, where did that ice come from? Did the pig learn a new trick? Or is someone else playing with us? It better not touch my Hedin!"
There was no time for an answer.
They fell together, locked in the curse's crimson light, crashing through to the level below in a rain of burning stone, frozen shards, and torn carpet. The chaotic tumble of debris should have broken bones. Instead, it only made Dina laugh harder. She rolled smoothly through the wreckage, coming up on one knee just as the dust began to settle.
When she noticed a shadow blot out the light from above. Ottar dropped through the hole in the ceiling after them like a meteor with his sword raised high.
CLANG!
Dina barely got her stiletto up in time. The descending strike buckled her knees, driving her boots backward through the splintering stone of the lower floor. The vibration climbed her bones and rattled her skull, sending a twisted, euphoric shiver down her spine. She giggled, spitting blood onto the rubble.
Before she could regain her balance, the black blade reversed into a brutal horizontal sweep.
SCRAPE!
The iron tip caught her upper arm, peeling skin and tearing a jagged strip from her dress. Warm blood sprayed across the dust.
I made this just for Hogni... Dina thought in a sudden fury, a delightful shiver of pain warring with her indignation. He was supposed to see how pretty I look covered in other people's lives...
"You're ruining my clothes, you ugly pig!" she sang, her cheerful tone completely at odds with the blood running freely down her side. "You're not allowed to look! You're not allowed to cut it! Only Hogni gets to strip me!"
Behind her, Vena's laugh turned sharp and possessive. She hurled a volley of condensed fireballs straight at Ottar's face. "And keep your filthy hands off my Hedin, too! He's mine to break!"
Ottar pushed forward through the flames, but the sisters' cursed synergy finally clicked into place. Every time the Warlord raised his greatsword to crush Dina, Vena's high-speed fireballs slammed into his joints and blind spots, throwing off his balance. Every time he tried to swat the magic away, Dina lunged into his guard with enhanced strength, aiming her stiletto at the vulnerable gaps in his dark armor.
Caught in the suffocating rhythm of their vanguard-rearguard assault, Ottar was finally forced to take a step back.
Dina's eyes lit up with unadulterated glee. We did it! We pushed the Warlord back!
"Vena, now!" Dina chirped, emboldened by their superior position. "Finish the pig off!"
Vena let out an ecstatic giggle, instantly shifting her stance. Pulling her hands back, she began to rapidly draw in her mind. The air warped violently around her fingers as she started charging her ultimate magic: Diaval Dis.
Dina nodded confidently, twirling her silver stiletto. She could easily manage the Warlord until her sister's spell was ready. Maybe if I just flash him, he'll drop that heavy sword and beg to be my obedient dog.
She paused, correcting herself with an amused wince as she dodged a slower swing from the Warlord. My obedient pig...?
Ottar planted his back foot, and the air in the sanctum immediately thickened. A heavy, suffocating aura bled from his armor as his body physically expanded, muscles bulging under the strain of his Beastification. Veins rose like steel cables beneath his skin, twisting his stoic features into a feral mask.
The transformation culminated in a low rumble that tore from his chest, escalating into a guttural roar that rattled the surviving architecture. The sheer pressure radiating from him cracked the floor around his boots.
Despite the curse currently elevating her body to a pseudo Level 6, an involuntary tremor shuddered straight down Dina's spine.
She forced the terror down instantly, burying it beneath a layer of unhinged delusion. Dina and Vena stared at the transforming Warlord, tilting their heads in synchronized confusion.
Why is he making himself so ugly? Dina wondered, wrinkling her nose in disgust. She understood not everyone could be a beautiful fairy like her or Vena, but did he really have to blow himself up like a grotesque balloon just because they didn't want him?
"He really can't take our rejection, can he?" Vena giggled from behind her, tracing a glowing fingertip through the air as her spell gathered volatile power. "He's so obsessed with us! He just keeps coming and coming! Doesn't he have that slut Freya to satisfy his urges?"
Dina hummed thoughtfully, dancing just out of reach of the greatsword. "He is persistent," she mused. "Honestly, Vena, I wouldn't mind testing how good he is in bed. Look at all those muscles! He could probably break me in half!"
"No, big sister!" Vena scolded, the first magical circle for her ultimate spell brightening behind them. "If we indulge him now, it's going to be awkward when we face Hedin and Hogni! We can't cheat on them before the honeymoon with one of their colleagues!"
"You're right, you're right," Dina sighed, shaking her head. "We really have to put this adamant pig down. It's time for us to meet our beloved!"
Tightening her grip on her stiletto, she lunged forward to meet his next attack, intending to parry and mock him one last time before Vena burned him into dust.
The delusion shattered instantly.
CLANG—BOOM!
The moment her blade met his, Dina's arms screamed past the point of recovery. The bones in her forearms fractured audibly under the Beastified pressure, rendering her stiletto hand completely numb. The resulting shockwave blew the air from her lungs and threw her violently backward. Blood loss made the edges of the room soften into a hazy pink, pushing her euphoric pain into the realm of terrifying failure.
I'm at the limit, Dina finally realized, the earlier tremor returning with paralyzing force. Vena still needs more time... the pig needs something stronger than fire...
Her second curse. The one she had jealously saved to use on Hogni on their first night together—the magic that would twist his mind, making him soft, obedient, and completely hers. Using it on this brute felt like sacrilege, a bitter betrayal of her own fantasy. Tears of unhinged frustration mixed with the blood on her cheeks, but she forced her voice to stay high and sweet.
"Rage, Second Eden! Sweetly rot, Final Song!"
Dark purple light laced with red flame erupted around her body. Her green eyes turned the color of fresh poison. The final words left her lips like a breathless love confession.
"Diaval Luminis!"
She locked that glowing pink gaze directly onto Ottar's face, ready to pour the charm straight into his mind and turn the Warlord into a drooling, kneeling toy.
Then, the world tore in half.
The suffocating density of Ottar's Beastified aura shattered the magic before the light could even cross the space between them.
And in the single second it took her to realize what had happened, Ottar vanished.
One instant he was five meters away; the next, a wall of dark iron eclipsed her vision. He bypassed her perception, stepping directly inside her guard. Before she could even blink, his massive gauntlet clamped around her throat with the casual finality of a door slamming shut.
He lifted her off the floor. The curse died unfinished in her crushed windpipe.
A second later, Dina felt a clean, bright line of cold slide effortlessly through her left shoulder.
SHING—!
Suspended in the air by her throat, Dina watched in blank confusion as her own arm tumbled through the dusty air behind the Warlord. Her fingers remained tightly clenched around her stiletto. Blood painted a beautiful, sweeping red arc across the ruined wall.
The delay broke. The blinding agony hit her nervous system like a lightning bolt.
The scream finally tore free from her crushed throat—high, wet, and utterly ecstatic in its horror.
Behind her, Vena's delighted laughter abruptly snapped, twisting into a furious, heartbroken shriek at the sight of her sister's mutilated body.
The last structural beams of the room, already gutted by fire, ice, and the relentless shockwaves of the Warlord's unyielding assault, finally gave up. The floor, the cracked walls, and everything still standing around them violently folded inward, burying the slaughterhouse in falling rubble.
-◈ -
Valletta
As soon as the heavy doors to Loki's chamber tore free of their hinges, she allowed herself a rare smile. Victory was theirs.
She leaned against the cold stone of the ledge, already tasting the aftermath. A golden pillar of light illuminating the night sky would be the cleanest proof—the Trickster forced back to Tenkai in a single flash. Or, if Rudra's rage cooled into something uglier, she pictured the idiot god parading Loki through the streets, helpless and pitiful. Either way, the board was about to permanently shift.
Rolling her shoulders, she stepped back, ready to drop down and personally escort the victors to their base before the Guild could muster a response.
But just as her muscles tensed to vault over the ledge, a catastrophic spike in Mind consumption slammed into her like a physical blade.
Valletta collapsed, her knees cracking hard against the rooftop. Her blood boiled instantly. It felt as if someone had buried a knife deep in her gut and twisted it again and again without mercy as the oppressive weight of her Shaldo multiplied by an impossible magnitude. The magic was violently recoiling, desperately trying to crush Statuses that simply should not have been inside the barrier.
Gasping for air, she violently severed her connection to the spell. Her fingers fumbled blindly through her cloak, uncorking four high-grade Mind and Recovery potions and downing them in sickening gulps. Only as the scalding pain receded to a dull ache and feeling crawled back into her limbs did she force herself upright.
She spat a thick glob of blood onto the stone, her mind frantically scrambling to process the backlash. The sheer volume of resistance felt as if a squad of First-Class adventurers had simply spawned out of the walls.
The idea was ludicrous—a dungeon mechanic happening on the surface. But as the fog of pain cleared, a deeply buried rumor surfaced: whispers from the shadows that the Guild had begun distributing teleportation magic. She had dismissed it as a pure fairy tale, a delusion surpassing even the legend of Argonaut.
Dragging herself back to the ledge, her knuckles whitened against the stone as she peered through the smoke billowing from the manor below, only to find the nightmare materializing in real time.
Down in the shattered entrance corridor, the Evilus grunts were no longer advancing. They were completely boxed in, hemmed against the walls by four heavily armored Pallums and a white-haired elf weaving lightning magic with cold economy.
Hedin and the Gullivers. Freya's elite had hijacked the battlefield.
A cold spike of genuine panic pierced her stomach, but Valletta ruthlessly clamped down on it. The siege was dead. Rudra was already a corpse who just hadn't stopped breathing, having outlived his usefulness the moment he insisted on tagging along. But Dina and Vena were still inside that building.
She weighed the costs in a single breath. Jumping into that meat grinder was tactical suicide, and most of her pawns would die in seconds. Yet the leadership and psychological terror the Dis Sisters commanded vastly outweighed the lives of the Spirit Soldiers. Apate would gladly trade every brain-dead meat shield in the faction to keep her fairies breathing.
Valletta drew the specialized command knife from her belt—the thin, rune-etched blade that served as both weapon and signal. She flicked it once through the air.
Nine cloaked figures melted out of the shadows behind her. Six Level 4s. Three Level 5s. The absolute peak of their experimental army.
"We move," she ordered, stepping off the spire.
They plunged through the night air. Bypassing the chaotic slaughter at the manor's entrance, they landed heavily on the shattered outer balcony of the upper corridor. Just as Valletta's boots hit the wood, a concussive boom rolled out from deeper inside the manor, shuddering the foundation so violently the floor groaned under their feet.
Her eyes narrowed and she flicked the knife twice, the runes flaring briefly to assign the vanguard.
"You," she ordered the nearest Level 5 and one Level 4, pointing her blade toward the flashes of blue lightning near the entrance hall. "Take the mage. Keep Hedin busy." She slashed the knife horizontally. "You four—Gullivers. Divide them. Do not let them regroup."
She glanced over her shoulder at the remaining two Level 5s and the last Level 4. "With me. Stronger targets will be deeper. If Freya's pets are already outside, more of them are waiting inside."
They breached the ruined upper archway in a controlled rush of black cloaks and drawn steel. But the moment Valletta took in the scene ahead of her, she instantly wished she had stayed on the roof.
The corridor had been transformed into a butcher factory. Every last grunt who had poured through the upper doors lay in pieces, their severed limbs and torsos scattered like discarded toys. Thick arcs of blood painted the walls, proving no mercy had been shown and no survivors left to crawl.
Following the trail of carnage, she spotted Rudra. The cowering fool was already bound hand and foot, thrown like a dirty rag against the far wall. The reason he was still breathing became immediately apparent: a black-haired catman was leaning casually on a silver spear right in front of the deity, watching the hall with lethal poise. Vana Freya.
And on the opposite side of the ruined hall stood the Black Knight himself. Hogni's silver hair was matted with blood that was not his own, his cursed blade still dripping as he methodically executed the last few stragglers. The sight dragged a dark memory to the surface—their last encounter, the way that exact same black sword had nearly taken her head. Her fingers tightened around her hilt, itching for the chance to return the favor.
But she forced a slow exhale through her teeth, swallowing the bitter taste of her wounded pride. Priorities came first.
She flicked the command knife again. One Level 5 instantly peeled off to rush Allen, while the second Level 5 angled toward Hogni. With her flanks temporarily covered, Valletta pushed forward, the lone remaining Level 4 trailing closely behind her.
Ahead, a ragged hole yawned in the floor where Loki's sanctum had once been. Smoke and freezing mist drifted up from the darkness below, the sounds of brutal, high-tier combat echoing from the crater.
Valletta hurried toward the edge to locate the sisters, taking two quick steps toward the lip of the hole—
BOOM.
The entire floor lurched violently beneath her. The supporting walls screamed in protest before snapping entirely. The corridor, the cracked pillars, and every living thing still standing on them simply folded inward, the structural integrity of the manor finally giving way under the relentless shockwaves of the Warlord fighting below.
Valletta's last clear thought as the world dropped out from under her boots was a venomous curse aimed at every shortsighted idiot who had ignored her warnings.
-◈ -
Max
With the executives en route to turn Twilight Manor into a terrorist-free zone, the immediate crisis on the surface was no longer his problem. Max finally let out a slow exhale, the tension leaving his shoulders.
When a soft ping from Rimuru came.
Boss. Astraea Familia is secure. All members accounted for. I closed the store the second I got your order. Chloe is with me as well.
Max's neck cracked as he rolled it, his lingering anxiety vanishing. Good. Keep an eye on Twilight Manor from a distance. If any of those rats try to slip away, follow them.
Understood. Rimuru replied crisply.
With his blind spots fully covered, the link faded. Only then did Max actually take a look at the floor around him.
The devastation was almost comical. The frozen lake had been completely trashed, reduced to a floating slush of melted ice cubes and steaming cracks. The shoreline wasn't doing much better, chewed down to pulverized stone. Max hovered a few meters above the wreckage on a thin disc of condensed magic, easily bypassing the ruined terrain. Down in the dark water, a few aquatic monsters were silently peeking up at him like terrified children hiding behind a couch.
Max's lips twitched into an amused smirk. Cute.
He swept his senses across the cavern. No old rat. No remaining zombies. No blue blob either.
It was time to collect his debt.
Locking onto Kairu's signature, Max teleported.
VWOOM—
He reappeared a floor higher, his boots touching down softly on solid stone. The air up here still carried the sharp tang of ozone and old blood.
Down the corridor, Kairu was casually bullying two Level 4 zombies. One of the corpses was wildly swinging a cursed black sword, while the other kept misfiring crude bursts of lightning. Neither could even touch the slime. Kairu was treating it like a game of tag, lazily compressing and bouncing between their frantic strikes before batting them back with a heavy pseudopod.
Max landed lightly behind his familiar, watching the pathetic display for a heartbeat.
"Hey buddy," Max called out casually. "Any idea where the old rat went?"
The slime paused, jiggling enthusiastically in a nod before pointing a pseudopod down a branching tunnel.
"Lead the way. Leave these two to me," Max said, waving a hand lazily. "Ping me when you catch him."
Kairu gave a cheerful Ki! Condensing into a high-speed blue bullet, the slime shot straight between the two zombies and disappeared down the tunnel. The corpses immediately pivoted, their dead eyes locking onto the fleeing familiar as they moved to pursue.
Max snapped his fingers and a thin ring of pure Destruction magic bloomed silently around their ankles.
Both zombies froze mid-step as their dead nerves remembered the terrifying erasure properties of his magic. The mere presence of the ring locked their bodies in an instinctual paralysis.
With the trash immobilized, Max finally took stock of his own state.
The oppressive demonic aura that had previously flattened the ice cavern was no longer overflowing like a messy explosion. It had naturally condensed, settling into a tight, dense sheath around his body. The crimson and black energy flickered off his skin, rolling upward like an intense heat wave.
Max blinked, examining his hands. Wait... this looks exactly like the Super Saiyan aura. He tilted his head, watching the black lightning crackle through the red energy. Actually, no. This is pure Conqueror's Haki.
A wide grin broke across his face. He is definitely going to record this later to see how cool it looked in the third person.
Pulling his attention back to the present, Max allowed the ambient charge in the air to respond to his magic. Blue lightning began to crawl up his calves and wrap around his knuckles as he actively practiced his Lightning Armor. Sparks danced violently between his fingers, the high-pitched hum of the spell echoing off the stone walls.
He looked up at the two paralyzed zombies, his casual grin sharpening into an easy smirk.
"Alright," Max mused, cracking his knuckles as the lightning flared. "Let's see how well this armor actually works."
-◈ -
Sacred Altar
Ouranos
Time moved differently in the Sacred Altar.
The air felt thick with centuries of prayer and the rhythmic thrum of the Dungeon far below. Smokeless candles cast long shadows across the chamber. The only sound was the faint drip of condensation and the breathing of the goddess sitting on the stone bench.
Loki arrived in a flash of crimson light and hadn't moved since. For a long while, she simply sat with her elbows resting on her knees, her fingers tangled in her red hair. She stared at the floor, tracing the cracks in the stone. The Trickster who traded barbs yesterday was gone.
Ouranos watched her from his throne in silence. He did not press her for details.
Some wounds need time to bleed before they can be bound, he thought, waiting for the shock of the sudden siege and death of her children to settle.
After a long stretch, Loki lifted her head. The motion was slow, as if the simple act of meeting his gaze drained her remaining strength.
"Ouranos," she began. Her voice was a rasp, stripped of its usual lilt.
She looked at him. The despair anchoring her expression wasn't the pout she used to manipulate the city. It was the terror of a mother who had just watched her home burn.
"Please... get in contact with my children in the Dungeon. Bring them to me."
The plea settled between them. Deep underground, her vanguard was still marching, blind to the fact that their goddess had nearly died and the board of Orario had flipped.
Ouranos held her gaze, letting the weight of her request—and the shifting fate of the city—rest on his shoulders.
--> Devil in a Dungeon <--
AN:
Sorry for the delay everyone, I had an ear ache and couldn't write. Now its better and I have mostly recovered.
Coming to the chapter, the first part was added just cause I loved it so much ;)
Woah, that's a long chapter and let me tell you writing Dis Sisters was my newest challenge and I hope I portrayed their unhinged cracked selves aptly. It was very rewarding to write them pegged down a notch just when they realized they are gaining upper hand.
Then we have the usual crowd of Max and Valletta making their customary appearances and sharing their pearls of wisdom with Max being a bigger bully than Kairu and Valletta sending all the Spirit Soliders like Pokemons to catch bigger and meaner ones.
Finally Loki. Not much to say about her. She has my prayers along with Ouranos' and hope she gets herself together soon. What do you think is holding all the Loki party in the dungeon and how would they react to the current changes in city? Should I write a chapter dedicated to them??
Do share how you felt the chapter was. Was it good or did you feel it was a bit forced? Please share your feedback/suggestions on Loki's situation in a comment/review.
The next chapter will be Danetus and possible conclusion of Evilus plan.
If you'd like to read 10 chapters ahead(around 50k words), support my work, check character images for free, read a free chapter(Ch 51.5), 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 Saturday.
Ben, Out.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.