Max chose not to walk beside Luna and Hana as they made their way to the Aphrodite Cabin. Instead, he slipped into Luna's shadow, letting the darkness wrap around him naturally. It felt safer that way. Less attention. Less suspicion.
Even so, attention followed them anyway.
Campers stared as the girls passed. Whispers trailed behind them like loose threads—quiet, but not quiet enough.
Most of it centered on Hana.
Her missing eye.
Max heard it all from the shadows. Pity. Judgment. Confusion. Some admiration. Some cruelty.
The Aphrodite Cabin glowed softly in the night, marble walls reflecting moonlight as if the structure itself was preening. Inside, the air was thick with perfume, candlelight, and the faint hum of gossip that never truly stopped.
They found an empty bunk tucked into a more secluded corner of the cabin. Less mirrors. Less foot traffic. A rare pocket of privacy in a place obsessed with appearances.
Hana dropped onto the bed with a huff.
"Man," she muttered, "I know being a daughter of Aphrodite is all about looks, but I still look better than most of them—even with my missing eye."
Luna smiled softly. "They think perfection is beauty."
She glanced around at the cabin. "The Greeks were serious about that when it came to Aphrodite. Symmetry. Flawlessness. Ideal forms."
She reached for Hana's hand. "I couldn't care less about your eye. You're beautiful. Both of you are."
Max's voice echoed gently in their minds.
You are both beautiful no matter what.
Both girls startled for a split second before relaxing.
"Still getting used to the telepathy," Luna said with a small laugh. "But… that was sweet."
She turned serious almost immediately and looked at Hana.
"We need to keep him away from Aphrodite when she shows up."
Hana nodded. "Agreed."
Max's voice followed instantly.
I can still hear you.
And I would never fall for Aphrodite.
They felt his calm certainty through the mental link.
I'm sure I have at least three ways to counter her influence, Max continued. And honestly? She sleeps around a lot. Not really my thing.
Hana smirked, leaning back against the bunk.
"You sure? Lot of pretty girls here. Enjoying the view?"
Nope, Max replied. Can't see a thing while hiding in shadows. Lack of light does that.
He paused.
And besides… I'm not really into Aphrodite kids.
That caught their attention.
Most of them take after their mother, Max continued, his tone quieter. Jump from person to person. Break hearts. Sometimes for fun.
That's… one of the reasons I didn't want to deal with the Occult Club like that either.
Silence followed.
Luna reached out instinctively, pressing her palm against the mattress where she knew Max's shadow pooled.
"That won't happen," she said firmly. "We know you."
Hana nodded. "You won't forget us. Ever."
She hesitated, then spoke again.
"How about we do that deal now?"
Max felt her focus sharpen.
"You never leave me or Luna," Hana said clearly. "You keep us with you—always."
She took a breath.
"No matter how many girls we decide to add."
Max paused mentally at that wording.
"But," Hana added, "no gods. Except maybe Ophis."
"And," she finished, "you have to take me and Luna on a real date at least once a week. Active. No excuses."
"Do we have a deal?"
Hana held out her hand.
Nothing happened for a few seconds.
Then Max's voice echoed, amused.
Oh? You're holding out your hand?
Sorry, he added lightly, but I can't see anything. Remember?
A hand reached out of the darkness, fingers curling around hers.
The moment they shook hands, power rippled outward.
The entire camp shuddered faintly.
Lanterns flickered. Campfire flames danced erratically. The ground trembled just enough for a few campers to glance around in confusion.
Then everything settled.
The deal was sealed.
Minutes later, both girls were asleep—exhausted, emotionally spent, and finally safe.
Max, however, remained wide awake.
He slipped out of the Aphrodite Cabin without a sound and moved deeper into the camp, shadows clinging to him like a second skin.
His feet carried him toward the weapon barn—the one mostly maintained by the Hermes kids.
"Thank god for maxed-out concealment," Max muttered quietly. "Now…"
He stepped inside.
Weapons lined the walls. Swords of every style. Spears. Axes. Bows. Even firearms locked in reinforced cases. Blunt weapons lay stacked near the back.
Max walked slowly, fingers brushing over hilts and grips.
"I can't use my Noble Phantasms freely," he mused. "Too much attention."
He paused.
"But I do have the skills of every Servant."
He smirked. "Hopefully."
"I wasn't exactly a hardcore Fate watcher," he admitted to himself. "That was Hana's thing."
He glanced around. "But those action scenes were cool."
Something caught his eye.
An unfinished greatsword.
The blade was massive but incomplete—raw celestial bronze, unpolished, unbalanced.
Max lifted it with ease.
"I should have smithing skills," he said thoughtfully. "Let's test that."
He brought the sword to the forge.
As he worked, he noticed the enchantment immediately. Sound dampening. The hammer strikes were nearly silent, swallowed by magic woven into the forge itself.
Time blurred.
Heat. Sparks. Focus.
An hour and a half later, Max stepped back.
The weapon was complete.
Five feet of blade. Nearly ten inches wide. Celestial bronze reinforced with layered enchantments. A long chain extended from the hilt—capable of reaching up to fifteen feet.
A brutal, elegant design.
"A bigger Blade of Chaos," Max murmured.
He wrapped the chain around his right arm.
It tightened on its own.
With a snap of his fingers, the blade collapsed inward, reshaping itself into a simple ring on his right middle finger.
Power radiated from it—contained, patient, waiting.
"…Maybe I overdid it," Max admitted.
He flexed his hand. "Still better than Excalibur."
He made his way toward the camp boundary and touched the barrier.
Pain flared.
Less than before—but still sharp.
"Damn," Max hissed. "Cole's powers and anti-divinity skills help, but there's no real connection."
He clenched his fist. "I don't want to be in pain every time I cross."
He focused.
Seconds later, a small portal opened beside him.
A hand emerged.
It was unmistakably not native to this world.
The style was wrong. Rougher. Hazbin Hotel–like.
Max hesitated—then shook it.
Power surged through him violently.
Red lightning coursed through his veins as systems aligned, forces synchronizing.
The pain vanished.
He touched the barrier again.
It barely reacted.
"…Perfect," Max breathed.
The connection was seamless. Cole's electricity. Anti-divinity. Infernal energy. Fate-based authority.
Perfect control.
With something extra.
Max frowned. "Nice."
Then he paused.
"But what was my end of the deal?"
He searched himself.
Nothing felt missing.
No weakness. No loss.
"…Huh."
He shrugged lightly and slipped back into the shadows, returning to the cabin where the two people who mattered most slept peacefully.