Chapter 87.5

General Pov

With Hogni and Ottar gone, the room fell silent. At the foot of the bed, Kairu glanced between his master and his Lady and did not dare move.

Freya stepped down from the bed and crossed the room to where Max stood, still bare to the waist. She stopped an arm’s length away and simply looked at him. Kairu slid down after her and settled by his master’s ankle, as if hoping no one would notice him there.

Max braced himself for the scolding, but it never came. Her lavender eyes stayed on his face as the seconds dragged on, and the longer she said nothing, the heavier the room became. Honestly, he would prefer shouting. Shouting he could argue with, apologize to or wait out. This silence gave him nothing to hold on, and standing this close, he could feel the storm she was holding back.

Say something, he begged silently. Yell at me, pinch me, anything.

She didn’t. So his excuses started lining up in his head on their own, one after another, and one after another he threw them out, because each sounded worse than the last. When he could not bear the silence any longer, he lowered his head.

“Lady Freya.” His voice came out rougher than he expected. “What happened tonight was my poor judgment. I sincerely apologize.”

Freya could see that he meant it. But her expression did not change.

“Are you apologizing because the Dungeon thwarted your plans?” she asked quietly. “Or because you were caught the moment you arrived?”

The question hit harder than any shout could have, and Max flinched.

Shit.

She was right, and that was the worst part. He screwed up, and he screwed up big time. Not only did he break the promise he made her, but the moment he stepped out of that circle, he had to go and run his stupid mouth too. The next run, the deeper floors, the next big event, the updates they would hide from her for days. He laid out the whole master plan like he was Aizen or something, while the very person he was hiding it from sat ten feet away and listened to every word.

He kept his mouth shut. Anything he said now would only make it worse.

“And poor judgment.” Freya tilted her head, her voice still quiet. “Is that what you call it?”

Max swallowed.

“What happened in your mind was not your choice,” she went on. “I saw it, and I will not hold that against you.” She took a step closer, and Max had to stop himself from stepping back. “But everything that led you there was.”

“You called me this evening and asked for my permission. A dungeon experiment, you said.” A thin smile touched her lips and vanished just as fast. Her voice never rose, but each word that followed came out sharper than the last. “You chose those words so carefully. You knew I would never allow it if I knew the truth, so you made sure I never did.”

Max’s hands curled into fists at his sides. At the time, he was proud of that wording. Hearing it thrown back at him now made him want to sink through the floor.

“Then you provoked the Dungeon until it birthed a Level 7, and you took my captain along with you. On the day of the Denatus, no less.” Her breath hitched, but she pressed on. “While you were down there, I sat in Babel with an unknown coldness closing around my heart while smiling at the other gods so none of them would notice.” Her hands clasped in front of her, so tightly that her knuckles paled. “I called you. I called Ottar. Neither of you answered.”

Her voice dipped, and for a moment, the hurt showed through the anger.

“Do you know what that was like? If you told me, I would have worried, yes. But at least I would know what I was worrying about. Instead, I waited all night with something I could not even name.”

Max’s throat closed up. He guessed the Falna did something to her, but he never imagined it was that huge.

“And when you finally came back,” Freya continued, quieter now, “the very first thing you did, in this very room, was plan how to hide your updates from me. For days. Then go deeper, and do it all again during the next event.” She held his eyes. “So tell me, Maximus. Was that poor judgment, or was it a calculated plan?”

Max opened his mouth, then closed it again. There was no point dressing it up. She already saw everything.

“…Calculated,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I did the math. I figured the Juggernaut would land somewhere around High Level 6, so I brought Ottar and Hogni, and Kairu, and I had protocols running on all of us. I thought I covered everything.” A humorless laugh slipped out of him. “Turns out the Dungeon didn’t read my notes. A Mid Level 7, and then that Abomination thing in my head. I couldn’t have planned for that even if I tried. I just… needed to get stronger. Faster than the Falna lets me.”

Freya listened without interrupting. When he finished, she was quiet for a moment, and then she asked the one question he did not prepare for.

“And if it was a Level 6?” she asked. “Would you have told me then?”

Max’s mouth opened. But nothing came out.

…No. I wouldn’t.

Freya saw the answer on his face before he could find his voice. She did not look away from him. Her lips pressed together, her clasped hands tightened until her knuckles paled, and for a long moment, she simply stood there and let the answer settle. Then something in her expression gave way.

“Not even a week ago,” she said, and this time her voice cracked, “you sat in front of me and promised you would come to me in case of a threat.” She stopped and drew a breath before she could go on. “You did not break that promise in a moment of desperation. You broke it with a smile, the very first chance you got.”

Max could not hold her gaze any longer. His eyes dropped to the floor.

“Look at me.”

He obeyed at once, and found her eyes glistening.

“I do not know what you do when you are away from me,” she said softly. “I accepted that long ago, and I even enjoy it. Your secrets, your schemes, the way you never come running to me.” Her hand rose and settled flat against his chest, right over his heart. “But do not mistake that for indifference.”

Her hand stayed there, and Max felt his own heartbeat thudding against her palm, too fast and too loud. The tears in her eyes did not fall. Instead, the softness drained from her face, and her fingers pressed in until her nails rested against his skin.

Then her Arcanum slipped its bounds.

It did not burst out the way it did with Hedin. It seeped out slowly instead, filling the room inch by inch, until the air pressed down on his shoulders and his knees wanted to buckle. At his ankle, Kairu flattened himself against the floor. The lavender in her eyes darkened until it nearly glowed, and a slow smile spread across her lips.

Max’s danger sense screamed louder than it did in any fight, louder even than when the Juggernaut charged him, and all of it was screaming at her.

“The Dungeon tried to take you from me tonight.”

Her voice was soft, and it filled the whole room anyway.

“I watched it reach into you. Do you know what I felt?” Her thumb traced a slow line along his collarbone. “Not fear. Not after I saw you standing. I felt that it touched what is mine.”

The pressure surged on that last word, hard enough that Max’s knees finally dipped, and in the same instant, he felt her catch the surge. Her jaw tightened, and the weight pulled back, slowly, as she dragged her own divinity back under control.

“I want you to be mine, Maximus,” she murmured.

The words hit him harder than the Arcanum did. His mind went straight to her lips on his, to the days he spent avoiding her afterward, and to the answer he still did not have. He stood frozen under her hand and could not have spoken if he tried.

“I am still ignorant of the customs of your world,” she went on, “but you have let me experience so many new things. I was grateful to whatever force crossed our paths, and I still am. So understand this. However long you need to decide what becomes of us, you may have it.”

Her nails pressed a fraction deeper.

“But never put yourself in such danger again without letting me know.”

She fell silent after that, and the pressure in the room faltered with her. Her eyes dropped to her own hand on his chest, and when she spoke again, it was barely above a whisper.

“I do not even know what I would do if I lost you.”

Max’s hand lifted on its own and hovered near hers, but he did not dare touch her.

She drew one slow breath, and the pressure in the room steadied with her. The smile returned, and she leaned in until her lips were beside his ear.

“Nothing takes you from me,” she breathed. “Not the Dungeon. Not death. Not even you.”

She pulled back, and the weight lifted from his shoulders all at once. Max’s knees nearly gave out as the pressure vanished, and slowly, he nodded.

When he dared to look at her again, her face was composed, though her eyes were still lavender. If her nail marks weren’t stinging on his chest, he might have believed he imagined the whole thing.

At his feet, Kairu slowly puffed back into shape.

M-Master, the slime whispered through the bond. Lady is scary.

Max did not disagree. His hand went to the marks without him meaning to. I do not even know what I would do if I lost you. He heard her say it again in his head, the quietest thing she said all night, and somehow the heaviest. All evening, he felt her emotions churning under her anger and thought that was the storm. Now he knew that was only the surface. What lay beneath ran far deeper than he could reach, and all of it was fixed on him.

And here I was, treating all of this like a game.

The teasing, the flight, the necklace. One step at a time, he walked them far past the line where a goddess and her dependent should stand, enjoyed every single one of those steps, and still clung to his precious sagehood as if it made him noble. It didn’t. It made him exactly like every isekai protagonist he used to yell at through his screen. All bark and no bite.

Kazuma was the prime example. That moron talked big, was surrounded by beauties, and even went as far as hiring a Succubus, yet the moment any of it turned real, he chickened out every single time.

And now I’m becoming just like him, Max thought, horrified. Is this some blanket curse on all isekai MCs? A debuff that comes free with the transfer?

No. It can’t be. Rudeus was such an exemplary MC.

The joke did not make him feel any better, and the marks on his chest kept stinging. He hated drama, and he knew exactly where tonight’s drama came from. Every bit of it started with him dodging, and the longer he dragged this out, the worse it would get.

No more stalling, Maximus, he decided. She deserves the whole truth, and she deserves it now.

So he lifted his head, and this time, he did not look away.

“I lied to you,” he said quietly. “I asked for your permission knowing you’d refuse, and I hid behind the wording. I’m sorry, Freya. Not for the fight. For the lie.”

Freya said nothing, but she did not look away either, and that was enough to keep him going.

“And you deserve to know why.” He scratched his cheek, wincing at how it would sound before he even said it. “It’s High-Class. I wanted to get there as fast as I could. So that when we finally sit down and talk about us, I’m not just some kid you picked up off the street. I’m standing next to you as an equal. Strong enough to actually be worth—”

“Strong enough?”

Freya’s hands curled into fists at her sides as she interjected.

“Max,” she said, and her voice climbed with every word, “you killed a Mid Level 7 tonight. A monster my Ottar could not bring down on his own. And you did it after the Dungeon itself forced its way into your mind, and you threw it back out.” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “So tell me. What does ‘strong’ even mean to you?”

Max opened his mouth. But she didn’t let him continue.

“And this High-Class. Why are you so obsessed with a title?” Her eyes narrowed. “You will not reach it with this level up. I saw your Falna tonight, and I am certain of that. It will come at Level 6, and not a day sooner, no matter how many monsters you poke awake.”

She stopped to catch her breath, and only then did she see him properly. He stood there under her finger with his shoulders drawn in, looking smaller than she ever saw him, the way he looked when he first stumbled into her life. Her anger did not survive the sight, and her voice gentled.

“You are a Devil, Max. You will live for a very long time, and I am a goddess.” An exasperated smile tugged at her lips. “What do you think I have been doing all these centuries, if not waiting?”

But her own words caught on something as she said them. Centuries of waiting meant centuries of watching, and she watched too many strong warriors fall to forget any of them. The smile faded, and her gaze darkened.

“I watched Zeus and Hera’s strongest children chase strength their whole lives. The best of them still fell to that Dragon or came back crippled, and that was only one of the black monsters. No one even knows what lies at the bottom of the Dungeon.” Her palm flattened against his chest again, right over the marks her nails left. “Strength did not save them, and it will not save you either. Whatever you think ‘strong’ is, change it.”

Max stared at her. Somewhere in the back of his head, the part of him that spent years min-maxing builds and grinding for the next tier went looking for a counterargument, and came back empty-handed. He knew how that story ended, better than she could guess. The strongest Familias in history, gone, and the next generation left scrambling to clean up after them.

…Okay. When she puts it like that, it does sound kind of dumb.

“Yeah,” he said, and it came out smaller than he meant. “Yeah. I get it.” He took a breath. “So no more surprises. If it’s risky, you hear about it from me first. Before I go, not after.” He held her gaze. “And I won’t take you lightly again. Not your words, and not what you feel.”

Freya did not answer right away. She studied him for a long moment, and he could see her weighing it, the lie against the apology and the promise against everything he did tonight. He held still and let her observe. It was the first time all night he met her eyes without flinching, and he could tell the moment she understood. The hand loosened, and slowly, the heat left her shoulders.

“If you asked me honestly tonight,” she said at last, “I might have even let you go.” Her thumb brushed once over the nail marks, so lightly he barely felt it. Then she drew a breath, as if the next words cost her something. “I forgive you, Max.” Her eyes held his. “But do not expect me to trust your words so easily again.”

The relief that went through him was so strong that his knees nearly gave out for the second time that night. Max nodded. That was fair. More than fair, honestly. He let out a slow breath and squared his shoulders.

“Whatever punishment you decide on, Freya,” he said firmly, “I’ll accept it.”

Freya laughed, short and hollow, with no humor.

“If my punishments were effective,” she said flatly, “I do not believe we would be having this conversation.”

That stung, mostly because it was true. Max was still scrambling for a way to prove himself, and for a while, neither of them said anything.

In the silence, Freya’s mind drifted back to what she saw in his Falna. The Juggernaut did not simply appear. It rose exactly when he pushed the floor past a certain point, as if he knew the threshold before he crossed it. The longer she thought, the less it sat right with her, and her eyes narrowed.

“The Juggernaut. How did you know the exact mechanism to make it spawn? What I saw was very precise.” Her head tilted. “Surely Ouranos did not share it with you?”

Max met her eyes and regretted it at once. He knew that look. She was no longer looking at his face but through it, straight at his soul.

“Uhm. Well.” He scratched his cheek. “Dungeons like this always have mechanisms like that. Back in my world, we have tons of games where, once you deal a certain amount of damage to the dungeon, it spawns a boss monster. Or it goes into overdrive and spawns an abomination programmed to kill whoever is dealing the damage. That one’s usually called the Juggernaut, because of its single-minded obsession with killing everyone in its way.”

Freya turned the explanation over in silence. A day ago, she would have dismissed it as a child’s fancy. But she just watched the real Dungeon do exactly that, so she slowly nodded.

Then her thoughts went to the last time he called something an experiment.

“Were you experimenting with this mechanism the day after our flight?” she pressed.

The question caught him off guard, and the hurt showed on his face before he could hide.

Damn. I should have seen that coming, he thought. After tonight, she has every reason not to trust me. And here I was, playing Sherlock Holmes with everyone but myself.

He shook his head, and when he answered, his voice was quiet. “No. That day, I took Trent and some of the others to the Colosseum to see if they could level up fighting there, and I think a few of them will. Trent said he’d contact you once they’ve all recovered, to schedule an updating session.”

Freya held his gaze a moment longer, then gave a small nod, and some of the suspicion eased out of her eyes.

Max let out a breath. If tonight taught him anything, it was exactly what happened when Freya found things out on her own, and he had no intention of letting the next secret blow up in his face the same way. Better she heard it from him.

“There’s one more thing,” he said carefully. “I’ll be going to Loki’s at some point to cash in my debt.”

Freya’s brow rose. “Your debt?”

“For saving Loki and her children during the raid,” Max said, “and for pulling her familia out of the Dungeon after.”

That caught her interest. Freya tilted her head, and with it, the tension that smothered the room since he stepped out of the circle finally began to break.

“And what did she promise you?” she asked, leaning in slightly.

Max’s expression turned smug. He crossed his arms and looked at her like a man about to reveal a winning hand.

“She thought I couldn’t level up after killing the Amphisbaena,” he said proudly. “So I told her that if I did, I wanted to train Ais for a month.”

Freya looked at him quizzically. “Were you truly interested in wasting your time with that girl?”

Max’s shoulders slumped. “I thought she would reject it,” he admitted sheepishly. “But she accepted.”

That only made Freya more curious. If the bet was never the point, then the debt was. “Then what were you really going for?”

Max straightened, and his eyes brightened with unshakable righteousness. Behind him, a phantom cape unfurled and fluttered in an invisible wind, and a mountain rose at his back against a sky full of glittering stars, as though the heavens themselves gathered to witness his declaration.

“I,” Max proclaimed, “was aiming to touch Riveria’s ears.”

The cape fluttered harder, and rainbows bloomed behind him.

Freya nearly fell over from the whiplash. For a moment, she could only stare at him. Then the words caught up with her, and she closed the gap between them in a single step and seized him by the shoulders.

“You asked for WHAT?!”

Her voice thundered through the room.

“To touch Riveria’s ears…” Max repeated, a little less grandly this time.

Her jealousy, never far whenever another woman came near him, came roaring back with a vengeance. Freya yanked him closer until their faces were inches apart.

“Why you— DAMN MORTAL!” she hissed. “What made you demand such a ludicrous, worthless reward for a debt you could have exploited for years!? If you were so interested in elven ears, you could have told me! We have many elves in our familia, and I could have arranged for the most beautiful of them to let you touch theirs!”

Max’s righteous otaku brain flared at the insult. He stared at her as though she just said the dumbest thing he ever heard.

“Why would I touch just any elven ears,” he said slowly, “when I have Riveria in front of me? The Elven Princess. A High Elf.”

“WHAT IS THIS OBSESSION WITH ELVEN EARS NOW?!” Freya shouted, completely unable to control herself.

“You wouldn’t understand the cultural milestone I would achieve by touching them,” Max replied, entirely unbothered. “And just so you know, I’ve already planned how to make this a continuous thing. So I don’t want you to intervene.”

Freya’s eyes flared, and her grip on his shoulders tightened. “WHAT ARE YOU PLANNING?! I did not take you for the type to be interested in women far older than you! You are only nineteen! She is ninety. NINETY!”

“Why would age matter?” Max shot back indignantly. “Look, we don’t have elves in my world as far as I know. I’ve been dreaming of a moment like this for so long, and now it’s finally within my grasp.” He raised both hands with his fingers spread wide. “I’m going to touch them, and feel them, with both my hands.”

Freya let go of his shoulders and pressed her palm to her face.

What is with this man?

He kept his distance from her at every turn. He held her at arm’s length and deflected every advance she made with business proposals, and yet here he was, this excited about elven ears. Not just any elf’s, either, but a princess’s. She peeked at him through her fingers. One look at his face told her this was no passing whim, and going by the resolve burning in his eyes, nothing she said would talk him out of it. Every trace of tension and remorse was gone from his face, replaced entirely by his desire to touch that old hag’s ears.

What is so special about them?

She expected competition for his heart from other goddesses. Aphrodite, Ishtar, even that cow Demeter, once she learned about his endless ideas for her farms. But Riveria? Never once did she imagine a stuck-up, bumbling elf would turn out this troublesome.

She lowered her hand and looked at him again. Max was still lost in his daydream, eyes unfocused and fingers twitching faintly, no doubt imagining how those ears would feel, and Freya felt disgusted just looking at him.

Yet she could not make him change his mind. Her executives helped during that raid, but without Max, none of it would have been possible, and the debt was his to claim however he pleased. Right now, he genuinely looked like a pilgrim setting out on a journey toward enlightenment. It was an odd look on him.

However frightened she was of losing him, and however strongly the urge rose in her to lock him up and never let him step outside again, she knew it would backfire spectacularly. Max embodied chaos itself, and nothing could constrain him. So she smothered the urge and settled for the next best thing. If she could not stop this, she would go with him and keep whatever damage that elf could cause to a minimum.

Max blinked, coming out of his trance, and Freya drew a breath to speak, but he beat her to it.

“You know,” he said, “if you’re that worried, you can come with me. We’ll have to make a few adjustments, but you can see for yourself what I’m talking about.” He grinned. “And if you manage to sweet-talk Loki, maybe she’ll let you feel Riveria’s ears too.”

Freya opened her mouth to retort, then closed it again as his offer sank in.

“Agreed,” she said, before he could take it back.

Max nodded, and now that he was on a roll, he kept going.

“How long you want to hold back my update is up to you. But to prove I mean it, I’m banning myself from combat, aside from Riveria’s plan, which I’ll share once we’re done here.” He held up a finger. “You’ll get a ping if I break that rule, too. I’ll set up a protocol for you tonight. That way, you never have to wonder again.”

Freya’s heart sang. She was about to propose that very thing, the paused update and the ban alike, and he spoke the words as if he were reading her mind.

Before she could savor it, Max went on, and his voice softened. “And about us.”

Earlier tonight, he did not dare touch her. This time, he reached out and took both of her hands in his. They were cold, and he held them a little tighter.

He met her eyes. “You said I could take as long as I need. I won’t need long. I just need to sort my head out first, and then we can talk properly. No jokes, no business proposals.” A wry smile tugged at his lips. “And not after High-Class, like I was planning. Before that.”

He hesitated, then added, “I also realized tonight that I’ve been ignorant about a lot of things when it comes to us.”

Freya stared at him, stunned. Of all the things he could have said, she did not expect that. Ever since that night on the terrace, she waited for some sign that he would stop running from what lay between them, and now he offered it on his own, without her pushing. Her hands, clenched for most of the night, went still in his, and her breath caught at the thought of what that conversation might hold. Slowly, the last of the lavender drained from her eyes, and the silver came back.

His hands were warm around hers, and for a while, Freya simply held on.

Then, unbidden, the elf drifted back into her thoughts, and with her, the realization of how suddenly Riveria came to play such a critical part in the days ahead. A moment ago, the thought alone would have set her teeth on edge. Now, with her hands in his and his promise still hanging between them, she found she could let it go just as quickly. Even if he truly fancied the elf, he could have her as well. As long as no one interrupted her time with Max, nothing else mattered.

After all, as time passed, they would all move on, even an elf, and he would be hers alone…

--> Devil in a Dungeon <--

AN:

Hope the chapter is up to your expectations :).

The next chapter will be the cultural milestone ;)

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