"So," Max said carefully, his fingers loosely intertwined with Octavia's as they sat together on the couch. "What is it you need from me, Stolas? If this is about magic, I don't have much to give that isn't… vital. And the more power I use right now, the longer I'll be recovering. Or worse."
Stolas raised a hand almost immediately. "No, no. You've already done more than enough in that regard. Frankly, I'd prefer you not cast anything more strenuous than lighting a candle until you're fully healed."
Max relaxed slightly, though confusion still lingered. Octavia tilted her head, feathers ruffling faintly as she studied her father.
"What I need," Stolas continued, standing and pacing slowly across the room, "is for you to become more… political."
Max blinked. Octavia frowned.
"Political?" Max echoed.
"You cannot be my daughter's partner—much less her fiancé—without holding influence of your own," Stolas said flatly. "And no, marrying into power does not count."
Octavia groaned. "Dad, that rules out literally everything. Politics in Hell aren't like the human world. You're either born into it or you marry into it. That's how it works."
Max didn't bother correcting her, though a faint, thoughtful expression crossed his face.
Stolas stopped pacing and turned to face them. "Nevertheless, Max must possess standing that is his alone. Something undeniable. Something that ensures other families think twice before treating our house as vulnerable."
Octavia's eyes widened. "Dad—"
"I will not gamble with your safety," Stolas said sharply, then softened his tone. "Nor your happiness. If Max lacks independent influence, others will test him. They will test us. And that is not a risk I am willing to take."
Max absorbed that in silence. Then he nodded once.
"…You sound like a good father," Max said honestly. "Annoying, but good."
Octavia snorted despite herself.
"I'll do what I can," Max continued. "Give me a year. One year, and I'll earn the respect of every Overlord in Hell. Lucifer included."
Stolas's brows rose.
"Mammon will be the hardest," Max added, his voice carrying unmistakable disdain. "But it'll be done."
Stolas studied him for a long moment, searching for bravado, ego, or empty confidence. He found none.
"…Very well," Stolas said at last. "Until then, I forbid you from marrying. Publicly."
Octavia's head snapped up. "What?!"
"Even if Lucifer himself demanded it," Stolas finished calmly. "This is not a punishment. It is protection."
He turned and walked away, the conversation clearly over.
Octavia exhaled sharply and stood, gently helping Max to his feet.
"Sorry," she muttered as she guided him toward the exit. "He always makes things… complicated."
Max chuckled softly. "He didn't try to break us up. That's progress."
They chose to walk back to Pentagram City instead of teleporting.
The streets were as violent and chaotic as ever—demons shouting, fighting, plotting—but none approached them. None even made eye contact.
Octavia glanced around uneasily. "You using some kind of invisibility charm? I hope you're not straining yourself."
"No," Max said quietly. "Low-cost perception shift. They can see us, just not… consciously. To them, we're background. Like passing trees."
"That's… unsettling."
"Effective," Max replied.
Eventually, the Hazbin Hotel came into view. Quiet. Empty. Too quiet.
They stepped inside. The lobby was deserted. No Husk at the bar. No Niffty buzzing around.
"Well," Octavia said, guiding Max to the couch. "I should go. My dad would lose his mind if I stayed another night."
Before she could leave, Max reached out and caught her wrist gently.
"Wait."
He leaned forward and kissed her softly, then reached into his shadow and produced a small, enchanted cage filled with squeaking rats.
"For you," he said. "And… thank you. For helping me. Love you, my owl."
Octavia beamed, hugged him carefully, and left.
Max stood and began pacing slowly with his cane, deliberately pretending blindness. With Alastor around, it was safer to keep that illusion intact.
Niffty zipped past at terrifying speed, cleaning every surface twice.
"You know," Alastor's voice said suddenly, "for someone who calls himself an Overlord, you do get injured rather often."
Max turned his head as though searching. "Occupational hazard. When you have people worth protecting—five of them, actually—you tend to get hurt making sure they don't."
He tapped his cane lightly. A teacup appeared in his hand.
"And what have you been up to today?" Max asked calmly.
"Nothing special," Alastor replied cheerfully. "Just discouraging those who think harming the hotel is a good idea."
Max nodded. "You do decent work."
Alastor smiled wider.
Charlie burst down the stairs moments later and nearly tackled Max.
"Hey!" she laughed. "You're up!"
"Barely," Max said, hugging her despite the pain.
"I'll leave you two," Alastor said pleasantly. "Business calls."
After he left, Max and Charlie sat together, quietly discussing new ideas—small steps, gentle incentives, ways to make the hotel feel less like a trap and more like a choice.
For the first time since waking, Max felt… hopeful.
[Author: Sorry for the Short Chapter. Just wanted to post one today. Enjoy and look at my other book Demon of destruction. Have a happy day and enjoy. A time skip will happen soon as well]