Chapter 75

Max

It didn't take him long to reach the Pantheon, and it took the Guild even less time to send him upstairs. He tapped his knuckles on the administration desk and gave Rimuru's name instead of his. A Freya Executive asking for the Guild Head would have been gossip before he reached the stairs. PAL's generous new merchant sending a courier was nothing worth remembering. The words had barely left his mouth before an attendant was waving him past the petition line. Such was the weight Rimuru's name carried these days.

By the time Max reached the executive floor, the Guild Head was already waiting in the corridor.

Royman waddled forward, his face stretched into a practiced smile.

"Mr. Maximus! A delight to see you," Royman greeted, projecting a wall of false warmth.

Max returned the greeting in kind, matching the politician's rhythm.

They made their way down the hall, Royman filling the air with pleasantries. Max let him talk, smiling in the right places, and gave up nothing on his purpose, until they reached the doors of the Guildmaster's office.

Stepping inside, Max paused.

The room was lavish. It didn't look like the impartial office of a public servant. With its velvet drapes, dark mahogany furniture, and ambient monster-stone lighting, the space carried the suffocating weight of old money. It felt akin to Freya's sanctum in Babel, only without any of her taste.

Royman noticed the pause. As if knowing what he was thinking, a cynical smirk touched the elf's lips. "Not quite what you expected, Mr. Maximus?"

"I confess, it isn't," Max said, shaking his head with a faint grin.

"The management of the world's center requires a certain presentation," Royman offered, gesturing toward a plush leather couch in the guest area.

They sat opposite each other, the low table dividing them. The leather sighed under Royman's weight as he reached for the pot and poured two cups of elven tea, the fragrant steam rising to fill the space between them. After each took a polite sip, the Guild Head set his cup down.

"I hope everything is going well with Plot Armor Logistics, Mr. Maximus?"

"Yes, Chief Royman," Max nodded. "We had to institute quotas to moderate the crowd, but thanks to Rimuru, Rehmer, and our staff's efforts, the operation is running flawlessly."

"I'm happy to hear that." The flattery drained out of Royman's tone as he laced his fingers together over his stomach. "Now. What can I do for you today?"

Max didn't answer right away. He let the silence stretch, taking a slow sip of the brew. Over the rim, his eyes drifted past the elf, sweeping the clutter of the massive oak desk. He searched for the glint of a specific silver band just to confirm.

Only to find nothing but parchment and ink on the desk.

He expected that, and it still irritated him more than he showed. Max lowered his cup with a soft click. Reaching into his coat, he withdrew a wooden box. He set it in the center of the table and opened the latch.

"I'm here to deliver a new Communications Bracelet," Max began, leaning forward. His gaze locked onto the elf's face. "I noticed you were missing yours."

Royman flinched. The elf's eyes darted toward the open box, then snapped back to Max, and his laced fingers came apart.

"The... the Comms Bracelet?" Royman stuttered, his composure fracturing. He shifted his weight on the couch, as if searching for a bureaucratic shield. "Oh, yes. I had one. Rehmer was using it to coordinate with you, and the other two were secured with Lord Ouranos. But mine... well, you see, due to the emergency of the recent days, I felt it prudent to send it to Lady Loki to ensure open communications."

Max's face brightened as he offered a sickly sweet smile.

"Oh," Max said softly. "You know, I remember a specific phrase Rehmer always uses whenever I question him about why the Guild operates the way it does. Why it ignores the struggles of the weak, why it turns a blind eye to injustice in the slums, why it prioritizes profit margins over people."

That part wasn't theater as he saw the slums himself. The smile stayed on his face, but the sweetness had to work harder to hold.

Royman swallowed.

"Rehmer always replies with the same answer: The Guild is neutral."

The casual edge vanished from Max's voice. The air in the office grew heavy, a faint pressure settling over the room as his magic stirred beneath his skin. On the table, the surface of the tea shivered in its cups.

"Now." Max leaned closer, pinning the elf to the upholstery. "Do you think what you did goes against that neutrality, Chief Royman? Going behind everyone's back to smuggle a classified artifact given to the Guild to Lady Loki, so she could contact one of Lady Freya's members? Knowing the rivalry those two share?"

Royman lifted his chin, and for a moment, the politician surfaced. "I'm afraid I don't follow, Mr. Maximus. The Guild's internal logistics are hardly the business of a—"

"Fifty Level 3s, Chief Royman." Max's voice was almost gentle. "In Rivira. The moment Freya's outpost went up, you decided neutrality was negotiable."

Royman went very still under Max's scrutiny, and Max watched the realization crawl across the elf's face, the lifted chin sinking back an inch at a time.

"Why are you staying quiet?" Max pressed, his tone unyielding. "You had the audacity to drag your feet for a week and a half on my proposals, claiming operational procedures. Yet the second you felt threatened by Freya Familia's outpost, you bypassed every procedure to arm her greatest rival."

Max let the silence sit in the room for three agonizing seconds.

"By your silence, should I assume you accept my words? Do you agree that the Guild broke its neutrality, Chief Royman?"

-◈ -

Royman

Damn it. Damn it all to the Dungeon!

Royman stared at the floor, throwing a furious tantrum inside his head. Sweat gathered under his collar and crept down the back of his neck. He turned the problem over, searching every dark corner of his mind, but he couldn't find an exit strategy. He couldn't deny it, and he couldn't plead ignorance. The boy possessed far too much leverage.

He knew exactly what he should have done that night. He could have sent an inquiry to Folkvangr. He could have contacted Maximus himself. Those were the neutral options. But the moment the reports hit his desk confirming that Goddess Freya set up an outpost in Rivira, his paranoia took the wheel. With Loki's forces trapped in the Dungeon, his mind jumped to a hostile takeover. He panicked, and he handed the Trickster Goddess the bracelet to contact Maximus.

And now, this anomaly sat on his guest couch, systematically dismantling his choices.

The silence was getting too long. Every second he spent staring at the carpet was a second the boy spent reading him, and Royman had not climbed to this office by letting people read him.

He took a long breath, forcing his lungs to expand against the tightness in his chest. He pushed his teacup aside. Then it came to him, the one thread in all of this he could still pull, and the relief of it steadied his hands. Raising his chin, he pulled the mantle of the Guildmaster around himself like a shield and met the boy's eyes.

"Mr. Maximus, your concerns are valid," Royman stated, injecting a fraction of authority back into his voice. "But you must understand, the Guild's neutrality is the cornerstone of this city's survival. I acknowledge that delays were made while considering your business proposals, however, those were standard procedures to ensure stability."

He leaned forward, deploying his last line of defense. "Much like how my transfer of the Comms Bracelet ensured stability during the recent Evilus assault on Twilight Manor. Thanks to that device, Lady Loki managed to contact Lord Ouranos directly. We coordinated the teleportation of her Familia to safety using your network, and dispatched a relief force under Madam Shakti's lead. The bracelet saved lives."

Royman watched Maximus closely as he spoke. Surprise colored the boy's face. The Guildmaster wanted to smile in triumph, but he knew better than to show his teeth just yet.

-◈ -

General Pov

Royman was actually claiming the Guild acted because of the Comms Bracelet. He sat there, wearing an earnest expression, trying to snatch the credit for an extraction Max had personally engineered with Ouranos and Freya.

The gall of this bastard.

The surprise on Max's face was real, but it wasn't the kind Royman thought it was. Max's blood hummed, and his fingers tightened on his knee until the knuckles ached. He didn't reach across the table to throttle him. Beating a bureaucrat was cheap. Bleeding him dry of every ounce of leverage was art.

So Max blinked, smoothing his features into one of innocent wonder.

"Is that so?" Max asked, letting awe creep into his voice. "Did Lord Ouranos confirm this to you himself? That Lady Loki contacted him to coordinate the rescue?"

Royman hesitated, clutching his robes. The question was too simple. It had the shape of a door closing behind him. He didn't want to stand on a lie that dragged the Elder God into it, but backing down now meant ruin.

"Lord Ouranos did confirm to me that he was informed of the assault, and that it was taken care of," Royman hedged. "Madam Shakti submitted her official report shortly after."

Max nodded slowly, as if weighing the words. Then the awe drained out of his face, and what replaced it was worse than anger.

"Saved lives," Max repeated. A sneer cut across his features. "When the assault began, I contacted Lord Ouranos myself, Chief Royman. I planned the rescue, organized exactly where Freya's executives were to be sent before the first circle ever appeared. Yes, the device saved lives—who knows how long it would have taken had the matter been left to the Guild's devices."

Each sentence landed on Royman like a stone in a still pond, causing devastating ripples. His whole sequence of the night was dismantled with each word and the worst part was: he tried to pass off the credit of the rescue as the guild’s (his) to the very person who executed it…

Max leaned back, letting the words settle before delivering the second half.

"And whatever Lady Loki used that bracelet for, it doesn't forgive your conniving little scheme. A bracelet entrusted to the Guild was smuggled to the rival familia of my familia, behind everyone's back. That is what happened."

Royman refused to lift his head, his face going purple and then grey. His handkerchief was in his pocket. He wanted it badly and didn't dare reach for it.

"Now, let's talk about the price of my silence."

Royman stiffened, and his eyes moved up.

A price. The word should have frightened him. Instead, something in his chest unclenched. A price meant a transaction, and a transaction meant the boy wanted something more than his ruin. Royman had spent his whole career on the right side of transactions.

"A... price?" he asked, very much interested.

"I have no immediate desire to march down to Lord Ouranos and explain how his Guildmaster committed partisan treason," Max said, his voice dropping into a smooth rhythm. "Nor do I want to share the details of this little courier service with Lady Freya. I imagine she would view the Guild arming Loki during an active deployment as an open declaration of hostility. And you know how she handles hostility."

Royman knew. The small relief he had allowed himself curdled in his stomach.

Every drop of color drained from his face. The full weight of the vice snapped shut on his neck—Ouranos stripping his title below, and Freya demanding his head above.

"What do you want, Maximus?" Royman choked out, the last shreds of his political pride dissolving into cold sweat. He didn't even notice he had dropped the honorific.

Max noticed.

"I want the artificial bottlenecks removed from my proposals," Max said, leaning forward and tapping the table with each point. "The Newbie-Veteran Training Program. The Retirement Pension Scheme. And the Death and Disability Insurance. No more stalling. No more excuses."

Royman's mind seized on the cheapest item on the list the way a drowning man seized driftwood. If he gave the first one fast enough and generously enough, perhaps the boy would be satisfied with it for now.

He swallowed hard, raising his trembling hands in a frantic attempt to negotiate.

"The Rookie Program, yes! I will personally issue formal appeals to the dissenting Familias—Lady Ishtar, Lord Apollo, Lord Soma, Lady Hephaestus—and place it directly on the agenda for the upcoming Denatus once Loki's elites return. The gods can ratify it directly!"

Max nodded, unhurried. "Good. Send them the proposal and give them enough time to answer. Then make a list of every god who still dissents." A thin smile touched his lips. "That way, we can deal with them all at once."

Royman didn't want to imagine what those deities would be subjected to, and wisely didn't question it.

"And the other two?" Max demanded coldly.

The driftwood began to slip out of his grip.

"Maximus, please, listen to reason!" Royman pleaded, a desperate exhaustion breaking through his panic. "Those two are not mere matters of coin! To establish a functioning Pension Scheme, we need legal criteria for 'Retirement.' What Level? How many active years of dungeon diving? What were their historical earnings? The martial Familias guard their financial ledgers like sacred relics—they will draw steel before letting Guild auditors inspect their private accounts!"

The fat elf finally gave in and pulled the silk handkerchief from his pocket, mopping his forehead with quick, jerking strokes.

"Disability carries the exact same nightmare! We have to legally define physical maiming versus magical mind-burn trauma, establish independent medical tribunals, and audit fraud! Compared to those two, Death Insurance is the only one simple enough to verify and execute quickly!"

Max studied him closely, and some of the edge went out of his posture as he listened. Beneath the cowardice, Royman was laying out the actual administrative rot of Orario—a city where prideful gods refused to share ledgers, leaving adventurers to bleed out without a safety net. Not because the Guild couldn't build one, but because no one with the power to build it had ever bled on those floors.

That was the whole reason Max wrote those proposals in the first place.

His hand stopped tapping the table. When he spoke, his voice was quieter than Royman expected.

"Then we establish the structure ourselves."

Royman blinked at him, the handkerchief frozen against his temple. "I... beg your pardon?"

"The Guild drafts the criteria. Independent tribunals, fraud audits, all of it. The Familias don't get to hide their ledgers behind 'tradition' anymore—not when the Guild holds a neutrality mandate that outranks their pride." Max's eyes narrowed, but the anger in them had nothing to do with the elf across from him anymore. "You call these bottlenecks 'procedure,' Chief Royman. Down in the slums, they're widows, orphans and elderly who weren't given any mercy or had any support to lean on."

The words sat on the table between the two cooling cups.

Royman braced for another threat. He had an answer ready for threats but nothing for this, and he found himself looking at the boy properly for the first time since he walked in.

He held Max's gaze for a long moment, and something shifted behind his eyes—the first honest look the man had given all day. He exhaled, and his shoulders sagged back into the couch.

"...You truly intend to drag the entire city into this."

"Starting with you." The quiet was gone from Max's voice as fast as it had come. "How long for Death Insurance?"

"A month," Royman wheezed. "At least a month to draft the actuarial tables and hire clerks to process the claims."

"Then hire more," Max said with a shrug. "Pull them from the civilian side of the city."

For a moment, Royman stared at him as if Max said something stupid. Then he let out a long sigh, the handkerchief sagging in his grip.

"It is not that simple. Guild representatives must be trained to a very high standard. The best way is to reach out to our alumni and call back the School District." He dabbed at his temple again. "That will take some time, and I implore you to be patient with this elf until then."

Max accepted that with a short nod. "And the other two?"

"A season," Royman said quickly, then pressed on before Max could object. "At minimum! Even with Guild draftsmen, the Familia negotiations alone—"

"Fine," Max cut in. "A season for the pension and disability frameworks, drafted and negotiated. But they go on the Denatus agenda the same day the Rookie Program does. I won't have them dying quietly in a drawer."

Royman hesitated, searching the terms for a hook. He found none. Relief loosened his whole body at once, and he bobbed his head. "Agreed. That... that is acceptable."

Max leaned back, studying the elf one final moment. Then he stood up, looking down at the shaken Guildmaster.

"One more thing, Chief Royman."

The relief died on Royman's face before it fully arrived.

"Starting today, the Guild will draft the baseline criteria for Death, Disability, and Retirement benefits. You will maintain an active ledger recording every single adventurer who falls, suffers permanent injury, or is forced into retirement from this moment forward. The second those programs are ratified, every one of those individuals—or their surviving families—will receive full retroactive compensation."

Royman's eyes widened at the administrative mountain being dropped on his shoulders. His first instinct was to protest. The sheer scale of it. The cost. The Familias who would scream about precedent.

Then the politician beneath the coward did what politicians did best: he did the arithmetic.

Whoever built this would own the loyalty of every adventurer in the city. Every widow paid, every maimed veteran compensated—the credit would flow to the Guild(him). All it would cost him was servitude to the boy, and the constant terror of what the boy held over his head, which no one ever needed to know.

He stared up at the unyielding gaze watching him, and whatever protest he was forming died quietly in his throat.

"It will be done, Mr. Maximus," he said hoarsely.

The honorific was back. Max heard that too.

"I will send you my own notes on the qualifying criteria," Max added smoothly.

The air began to shimmer as a crimson magic circle bloomed under Max's boots, humming low and washing the walls in red. The light caught the open box on the table and set the bracelet inside it glowing.

As he prepared to leave, Max offered a predatory smile to the fat elf.

"I appreciate your sudden dedication to the public good, Chief Royman. I trust you will continue to do your absolute best for the Guild... and for Orario."

The circle flared, and in a clean pulse of light, Maximus was gone.

The hum went with him. What it left behind was a silence so complete that Royman could hear his own breathing, fast and shallow, in the lavish room. He sat there clutching his damp handkerchief, staring at the light mark fading from the carpet until there was nothing left. On the table between the two cooling cups, the open box still waited, the new bracelet sitting inside it.

His Guild. His programs. His ledger to maintain under the eyes of a human who could appear in this room whenever he pleased.

The handkerchief crumpled in his fist.

Once I make him comfortable, I am going to deal with him once and for all, Royman vowed.

-◈ -

Max

His magic circle deposited him back in his office at PAL.

Kairu sat on the corner of the desk, happily bubbling as he extruded fresh batches of rings. A second later, the side door swung open, and Rimuru walked in with an empty crate to collect the finished stock.

"Hey boss, how did the Guild visit go?" Rimuru asked, scooping the rings into the slots.

Max smirked, leaning against the edge of the desk. "Smooth. I'd love to see Royman try to delay our paperwork after today." The satisfaction of it was still warm in his chest, and he didn't bother hiding it.

"So we're really expanding, then."

"Looks like it. Which reminds me," Max said, nodding toward the crate. "I never got around to this with Rehmer. How should we handle the Trinitas Rings? Blanket packages for Familias, like the teleportation anchors and comms bracelets?"

Rimuru paused with a ring halfway to the crate, then shook his head.

"Keep them to individuals with verified retail sales for now," he began. "Anchors and bracelets are support. The rings are firepower, especially Maiden's Lament. Here, we have a strict vetting process, Falna checks, and anti-theft wards. Someone could still resell them to Evilus or use them for a personal vendetta, but individual quotas keep that footprint small."

Max grimaced as the picture formed. A Familia buying 100 Maiden's Lament rings at bulk rates, and nobody tracking where each one ended up, when a single one packed enough power to level a small building.

"That's fair," he conceded, the grimace easing into a rueful half-smile. The merchant in him had liked the sound of bulk contracts a lot more than the rest of him did now. "And if the city gets worse, we pull the offensive lines entirely. Barriers for the public, heavy rings only for Familias we trust."

"And if a batch gets compromised anyway?"

"Then I trigger the kill-switch and dissolve the enchantments from wherever I'm standing." Max shrugged. "Individuals only, for now."

Rimuru gave a satisfied nod and went back to filling the crate.

Max barely reached for the supply logs when a sharp ping resonated through his mind. He accepted the request with a raised eyebrow.

"Mister Maximus. I am Fels." The raspy voice of the Sage echoed across the link.

"Ah, Fels-san," Max replied smoothly. "What can I do for you?"

A brief pause drifted over the link. "I am currently executing an extraction mission on Lord Ouranos's orders for Lady Loki's exploration party. I have visual confirmation on them. They are currently ascending through the 36th floor. Lord Ouranos requested that I contact you to assist in their extraction via your teleportation network."

Max raised an eyebrow. Loki's party, finally on the move. Meeting them in person was worth the trip on its own, and being the one to cut days off their climb home was even better. Then he remembered the bet he still had running with Loki, and an interested smile bloomed on his face.

"I'm available to coordinate."

"I will approach them momentarily and establish a direct transmission line," they added.

"Understood. I'll be there shortly," Max said, dropping the call. The smile was still on his face as he prepared to leave.

Rimuru tilted his head. "What's the situation?"

"Fels found the Loki party on Floor 36," Max said, already pushing off the desk, a restless energy creeping into his limbs. "They need an extraction."

"Guess Loki went straight to Ouranos for a lift home, huh?" Rimuru chuckled.

"Makes sense. Her home just got leveled," Max said, and the smile slipped for a moment as he thought of the crater where Twilight Manor used to stand. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Though I wonder where she actually wants them dropped off. Let me check with her directly."

Max dialed Loki's bracelet. The link connected after two quick rings.

"Yo, this is Max!" he greeted, cheerful enough that Rimuru rolled his eyes from behind the crate.

"Maximus?" Loki's voice came through, sounding slightly surprised. "What's up, kid?"

"Fels just contacted me from the 36th floor. They have eyes on your party." Max drummed his fingers against the desk, the anticipation getting harder to sit still. "Where do you want me to teleport them?"

Loki went quiet for a moment. "Why don't you pop over to my location first? I'll show you the landing zone, and then you can jump down and bring my brats up."

"Sounds good. See you in a second," Max said, grinning.

Max severed the link and caught Loki's signature flaring. Spotting the chance for a show, Kairu gave a gleeful chirp and leaped from the desk, latching firmly onto Max's shoulder.

With a nod to Rimuru, Max activated the circle.

VWOOM.

The crimson light flashed and receded. The instant Max's vision cleared, he found himself staring directly into a pair of sculpted stone buttocks—the massive backside of an elephant-themed statue dominating the plaza.

"I AM GANESHA!"

A thunderous roar of laughter boomed to his left, violently vibrating the air.

Max turned, taking in the scene. Standing in what appeared to be a private courtyard of the Ganesha Familia compound was the elephant-masked God of the Masses himself, striking an exaggerated, muscular pose. Beside him stood Captain Shakti, watching her deity with a deeply practiced sigh. Waiting nearby was Loki, accompanied by a quiet old man in dark traveling clothes.

A flicker of unease rippled through Max's chest as he took in the crowd. Having Ganesha, Shakti, and an unfamiliar veteran staring right at his face meant his secret identity as the man behind PAL and its teleportation network was effectively blown wide open to the leadership of another major faction.

Then, after a second of reflection, the tension faded. It was inevitable. Between Freya, Loki, and Ganesha, he was standing before the three pillars of Orario. A logistical and magical anomaly of his scale was bound to be uncovered by the city's ruling forces sooner or later.

Undeterred by Max's initial hesitation, Ganesha marched forward with booming steps, clapping both massive hands onto Max's shoulders.

"You are truly impressive, young Maximus! Truly impressive!" Ganesha bellowed, his voice carrying enough volume to rattle stone. "Loki was just recounting your magnificent coordination during the attack, and how you managed to secure her safety while simultaneously handling a Monster Rex in the Dungeon! You have my deepest gratitude for your swift decisions! The city would have suffered a catastrophic wound had those cowards laid a hand on Loki!"

Trapped in the enthusiastic grip of the chatterbox deity, Max offered a sheepish grin, scratching the back of his head as Ganesha launched into a non-stop monologue—praising Max's rapid level-up, his sudden growth, and his recent intervention with Adi during their patrol.

Drowning under the divine barrage, Max searched for an escape. He looked down and noticed that his treacherous slime had once again slipped beneath his collar, hiding the moment he spotted the crowd of unfamiliar faces.

Oh no, you don't.

Max channeled a tiny flick of magic beneath his shirt.

"KIII—?!"

With a startled shriek, Kairu rocketed out from Max's collar, tumbling through the air like a launched cannonball before landing with an indignant splat back onto Max's shoulder.

"WHAT?!" Ganesha thundered, halting his speech mid-sentence.

The slime puffed up into a spiky ball of gel, glaring at Max and unleashing a furious string of complaints: "Ki! Ki, Ki, ki, kikikiki—?!"

Max kept an expression of innocent detachment, as if the slime had launched itself.

Instantly, the entire gathering's attention shifted from Max to the bickering ball of blue ooze.

Shakti, bless her enduring patience, let the slime rant for a few seconds before clearing her throat with a professional cough.

"Right! Getting back on topic!" Ganesha boomed, recovering his grand persona and stepping back. "We must not delay the official recognition any longer! From this moment forth, in honor of your vital role during the Loki extraction and your undisputed feat of slaying the Monster Rex Amphisbaena, you shall be known across the world as the Primordial Dragonslayer! Rejoice and prosper, Primordial Dragonslayer!"

Ganesha struck another triumphant pose, though his eyes lingered with deep fascination on Kairu, who finally settled back down.

Max stood there in stunned silence, his brain taking a few seconds to process the absurdity of the moment.

Primordial Dragonslayer?

He mentally prepared a dozen different scenarios for receiving his alias. He assumed it would be formally decided during the upcoming Denatus, where Freya would present it to him with her usual regal flair, or perhaps after a chaotic debate among the gods. Never in his wildest dreams had he expected to receive his title from Ganesha while standing in a private courtyard, staring straight at the sculpted stone ass of a giant elephant god statue.

A wave of quiet amusement rippled through his chest.

Freya is going to lose her mind, Max thought, an involuntary smirk tugging at his lips. She had probably planned a dramatic reveal to mark his promotion to Level 4, the moment she caught wind that Ganesha had just stolen her thunder behind closed doors, her reaction was going to be priceless. He almost couldn't wait to see her face when she found out.

Ganesha, meanwhile, had moved on to listing all the 'grand feats' that made Max worthy of the title—praising his dragon-slaying might, his spatial magic, and the divine balance he brought to the city.

Loki stepped between them mid-sentence, cutting the elephant god's rambling short without a word of apology.

"We cleared this entire secondary courtyard and veiled the perimeter under a barrier," she explained, gesturing to the empty stone plaza around them. "This is the safest drop zone. It's best if you bring them here directly."

Max smirked, crossing his arms. "Want to come along and greet them with me?"

Loki's eyes went wide. For a second, genuine emotion welled up behind her gaze.

Then her face fell. "You know I can't, kid. The moment a god steps into the Dungeon, the walls go berserk."

Max chuckled. "Not if the Dungeon doesn't know you're there."

He glanced at Kairu and gave a subtle nod. The slime understood instantly. Expanding his mass, Kairu extended a translucent film of gel that washed smoothly over Loki's body like a second skin.

A split second later, the ambient divine pressure that naturally radiated from the goddess vanished completely, masked beneath the slime's biological signature.

The courtyard went quiet. For once, Ganesha didn't shout. His mask tilted in curiosity where Loki stood. Beside him, Shakti's grip tightened on her spear, her eyes moving from the goddess to the slime and back, and Max could see her filing it in her mental ledger.

Loki patted her own shoulders in wonder. "I... it's gone? My presence is totally gone?!"

"Now you can come along," Max smiled.

Loki nodded vigorously, a wide grin spreading across her face.

Ganesha's laughter finally caught up with him, booming off the statue. "A wondrous trick! Visit again when you are free, Primordial Dragonslayer! We have much to discuss!"

Max offered a polite nod to Ganesha, Shakti, and the quiet veteran. Locking onto the steady coordinate pulse Fels was maintaining from the 36th floor, Max opened the gate.

VWOOM.

The crimson circle flared beneath them, and in a single heartbeat, Max, Loki, and Kairu vanished from the surface, plunging straight down toward the 36th floor.

-◈ -

Finn

He couldn't quite believe they were finally standing in the Lower floors.

The ascent had been a calculated grind. After a week and a half trapped on the 50th floor, they finally pushed upward. Dain's vanguard shattered the Fomoire blockade on the 49th, and once they were rested, the expedition moved with urgency.

The climb up to the Under Resort was difficult, filled with scattered herds, ambush predators, and choke points that forced tight shield walls. Yet, compared to the deep floors, the monsters above the 41st felt manageable. Their numbers thinned. Their behavior returned to something recognizable.

By the time the Loki Familia breached the 36th floor, exhaustion anchored every pair of shoulders. The damp air of the oasis floor offered a sanctuary. Finn ordered a halt to let the expedition rest, refill water skins, treat the wounded, and allow the rear ranks to eat something warmer than trail rations.

He unbuckled his gauntlets and stepped into his command tent. The canvas muffled the camp outside, the clatter of pots and the low murmur of exhausted voices. He rolled the stiffness out of his wrists and leaned over the flat supply crate serving as his map table, intending to review the rationing ledger.

Then he froze.

Sitting in the center of the wood was a rolled parchment that hadn't been there when he left.

Finn didn't call for a search. Shouting would only put the whole camp on edge before he understood what he was dealing with. He studied the scroll without touching it, and his eyes caught on the wax seal stamped with the Guild’s crest.

That only made it worse. No scout reported a messenger, and no sentry called an approach. The perimeter was secured before they set down the first crate. There was no worldly way for a Guild message to appear on a table 36 floors below the surface, and yet here it sat, as if someone had simply walked in and left it.

He broke the seal. The parchment held only a few lines, penned in meticulous strokes.

Situation critical. I am Lord Ouranos's messenger. If you trust me, call me by the name Fels.

Finn read the words twice. His first thought was a prank, but the theory died almost as soon as it formed. No one in his Familia had the motive, the stealth, or the energy for it. His fellow executives were exhausted, and after a month in the depths, everyone only wanted to go home. The seal was genuine, too. When he pressed his thumb against the parchment, waiting for the familiar prickle that warned him of danger, his thumb remained quiet.

That did not make the tent safe.

He folded the scroll and closed it in his palm, letting his other hand drift until it rested near his spear. Then he looked toward the far wall of the tent, where the shadows gathered thickest.

"Fels."

For three heartbeats, nothing happened. The noise of the camp filtered through the fabric, ordinary and far away.

Then the shadows along the far side of the tent shifted. The darkness peeled away from the canvas and kept peeling, detaching itself from the wall until a hooded figure stood in the room with him. The entity bowed.

"Greetings, Braver. I am known as Fels, Lord Ouranos's messenger."

Finn's expression did not change, and he kept his stance rooted. Whatever this was, it had stood in his tent long enough to leave a letter, and he had not sensed it once.

Fels seemed to understand the silence. Reaching within the robes, they produced a Guild token. The metal was old, its crest carved with care. Finn took the coin, turned it once between his fingers, and recognized the authority it carried.

He handed it back. "What does Lord Ouranos want?"

"The situation on the surface is critical," Fels rasped. "Lady Loki has requested that your party return immediately."

Finn's fingers tightened around the folded scroll.

Critical.

The word opened every door he had spent the past month trying to keep closed. His mind spun hypotheses, calculating the scenarios that would force a Guild extraction. Evilus might have struck Orario in a coordinated siege. Rakia might have announced an invasion. Perhaps the remnants of the Zeus and Hera Familias had returned to reclaim their throne. Orario had teetered on the brink of an internal crisis for a long time, and any one of those was enough to tip it over.

He ran the variables through his head, and every scenario ended in blood. None of them reassured him.

"Please elaborate," Finn commanded.

"The priority is your return," Fels replied, refusing to yield details. "Arrangements have been made. Pack your camp and prepare to depart. Further details will be provided once you are secure."

It was an intelligence blackout, and Finn hated fighting blind. But Fels carried a genuine Guild seal and Ouranos's authority into the 36th floor, and if the surface was at war, every moment he spent demanding answers was a moment Loki faced the crisis without her vanguard.

The decision settled in his chest before he finished the thought. Finn stood straight. "We will be ready."

He turned for the flap, then glanced back over his shoulder. Fels was gone.

Finn let out a slow breath through his nose and stepped outside, and his voice cut through the hum of the oasis before the flap had fallen shut behind him. "Halt the setup! Repack the crates and arm yourselves! We move now!"

The camp stuttered, then obeyed. Years of discipline overrode the fatigue in every face that turned toward him. Supporters abandoned the supplies they had only just begun sorting, fighters pushed themselves up from the cavern floor, and someone kicked sand over the nearest cooking fire before the pot on it had even begun to steam. Straps tightened, tents came down, packs were sealed, and within minutes, the camp they had barely begun building was erased.

Gareth found him in the middle of it, hoisting his axe over one shoulder, with Riveria a step behind, her staff tapping once against the stone as her eyes searched Finn's face.

"What is it, Finn?" Gareth asked, wiping sweat from his beard.

"Someone is coming to bring us home," Finn said, pitching his voice low enough to stay between the three of them.

Gareth's brows drew together. "Someone?"

"A messenger from Ouranos bypassed the perimeter," Finn explained in a low voice. "He claims the surface situation is critical."

Riveria's expression tightened. She didn't ask the question burning behind her eyes. How critical? She already knew he had no answer.

Unwilling to leave their position exposed while they waited, Finn ordered the vanguard to form a blockade near the corridor entrance. Gareth took the front center, planting his boots on the slate. Riveria stood behind the shield line with her mages gathered close around her. Ais took her place at Finn's right side, her eyes fixed on the darkness ahead.

Then there was nothing left to do but wait, and the minutes stretched.

Water rippled in the oasis lake behind them. Leather armor creaked as the rear ranks shifted their grips. Finn stood at the center of the formation, his eyes moving from the corridor to the ceiling to every shadow between the broken stone, and with every minute that passed, the scenarios from the tent crept back in. A siege. An invasion. A city burning while they stood here waiting on an escort none of them had seen.

"Hey! What are you all doing, staring at the entrance like that?"

The voice didn't come from the tunnels ahead. It came from behind them, from the center of their own perimeter.

Finn whipped around with his spear already rising, and for one disorienting second, he was sure the Dungeon had found a new way to attack his mind.

--> Devil in a Dungeon <--

AN:

Primordial Dragonslayer. That's what Ganesha came up with. Hope that matches the expectations and Chunni nature of the Gods.

Royman was completely shut with no more argument left in him. How did you feel about that scene? Do you think Max did well or he should improve?

For everyone wondering how would Finn reacts to Max with Loki, that's how. Cautious and suspicious. I know many important questions were omitted, we will explore that in detail in the next chapter.

The next chapter will be more elaboration on Loki familia, Ais reaction, and hopefully all of them returning home and Max and Freya going on flight ;)

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 how to improve the story in a comment/review. 

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.

Wrong Tuesday, I know. I honestly don't have much to say but the writing issues. But this time, I will not skip the updates and so the next update will be tomorrow. Unless you want to have updates on Thursday, Friday and Saturday to enjoy the weekend with more chapters ;).

Next update will be on Wednesday. (Subject to change based on comments)

Ben, Out.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.