General Pov
Babel
The Guild representative climbed onto the stage with the open case, and Loki laid the Ouroboros back onto its velvet lining. The moment the blade left her hand, its unnatural hum faded, and the breath she had kept trapped in her lungs rushed out of her, carrying a fraction of the bone-aching exhaustion with it. Her fingers still ached, curled around the empty space where the hilt was.
The representative snapped the case shut, bowed to the gods around the stage, and retreated toward the elevators.
With the weapon gone from her hands, Loki turned to her children. They still stood where she left them, rigid and silent, every pair of eyes fixed on her. She gave them a solemn nod and watched it reach them one by one. Finn's jaw finally relaxed. Beside him, Gareth's grip on the haft of his axe loosened. Further down the line, the younger ones let out long breaths, and here and there, exhausted smiles broke through their rigid discipline—shaky ones, but real.
Riveria left the line and climbed the steps to her side, and a familiar warmth settled over Loki's shoulder as the High Elf's hand came to rest there.
Loki leaned into the touch for a moment, listening to the wind over the Terrace. Around them, the gods and their attendants were still talking in low voices, so when she spoke, she kept her own voice down. "Go on home, all of ya. Get some sleep."
Riveria didn't move. Her grip on Loki's shoulder tightened, and she shook her head. "We will stay and go back together."
Loki opened her mouth, a sharp retort ready, but then she caught the look in her executives' eyes. At the foot of the steps, Finn stood rooted, and Gareth leaned heavily on his axe, making no move toward the exit. They weren't leaving her alone tonight, and no amount of squawking would change that.
"Stubborn as always, Princess," she muttered, but there was no bite in it. She let the argument go and looked for Noir instead. "Noir. Take the others back to the residences."
The veteran held her gaze a moment longer than usual. Loki knew that look. Noir buried his share of comrades over the years, and he wasn't going to say anything that would make tonight heavier than it already was.
"Leave them to me," he said quietly, and turned to gather the rest of the Familia toward the elevators.
"The execution is concluded!" Ganesha's voice boomed from the edge of the stage, cutting through the lingering chill. He swept an arm toward the doors. "Everyone, make your way to the Denatus chamber in an orderly fashion! We have much to discuss!"
At his call, the gods and their attendants began drifting toward the doors in murmuring clusters.
Near the perimeter, Hermes stayed where he was, still talking with Itachi while Asfi stood at his side. Over the young man's shoulder, he caught a flash of movement across the Terrace. Max was slipping away from Freya's side, weaving through the crowd quickly and quietly.
Why the rush? Hermes thought, following him with his eyes. Surely the boy's getting his alias tonight.
Ganesha came down from the stage and followed after the crowd, counting heads to make sure every deity was on their way to the chamber. His gaze swept over the stragglers near the perimeter and landed on Hermes, still deep in conversation with a young man. Ganesha took two more steps before he froze.
His eyes locked onto the young man. Or rather, onto what he was wearing. A long black robe, stitched with crimson clouds edged in crisp white. Flowing. Elegant. Dramatic in a way that spoke of a refined and highly cultivated soul.
Such taste, Ganesha thought, his mask tilting. I AM GANESHA, and even I rarely witness culture like this.
He turned against the flow of the crowd and marched straight toward this person of refinement, squinting at the face as he got closer. He prided himself on knowing every adventurer in Orario, but this one was unfamiliar to him. Dark hair. Onyx eyes, a gentle face, and a noble bearing. He turned the stranger over in his memory and came up with nothing.
Hermes glanced up at the imposing god bearing down on them and tipped his hat. "Ah, Itachi. Looks like we have a visitor."
At the name, it clicked for Ganesha. Right—the Guild's new 'miracle-worker,' the masked boy he tried to name himself. So this was the face behind the porcelain.
And it suited the robe perfectly. Ganesha pictured the two together, the porcelain mask over that calm face and the crimson clouds drifting down over all of it, and only one word came to him. Exquisite.
"The Ghost Weasel of the Labyrinth!" he proclaimed, delighted. Unmasked, the boy looked even younger than the title suggested. "A phenomenal title! But tell me—why did you not wear this magnificent attire during our last encounter?"
Itachi turned toward him, his expression calm, and offered a respectful bow. No answer came with it.
Never mind that now, Ganesha decided. He closed the distance and threw a heavy arm around the young man's shoulders, pulling him into a one-sided hug. Under his arm, Itachi went stiff for a heartbeat before he settled, but Ganesha was already talking. "I was looking for you! A tragedy occurred tonight—the elevators failed us! We were forced to take the stairs from the 30th floor like common mortals. I wished you were there to bypass the Guild's sluggish maintenance!"
Hermes stepped back to give them room, watching with an amused look. Itachi didn't strike him as someone who kept close company with anyone, let alone someone like Ganesha.
Itachi didn't answer the complaint either. He gave Ganesha a small, placating smile, and his hand moved in a blur, slipping a folded piece of parchment into Ganesha's palm.
Ganesha paused. Ah. The boy was shy. He didn't want their profound friendship known to the world. Respectable. Ganesha understood discretion.
Shielding the parchment with his broad chest, he unfolded it and read. The first part was the Guild's pitch about the bracelets, the same one they went over with him when he arrived on the Terrace, so he skimmed past it. The bracelets were the important matter he was to raise at the Denatus, and he knew them by heart. But the note below the pitch stopped him. The display bracelet, the one he would present to the pantheon, was made especially for him, and it was his to keep.
Ganesha's eyes widened behind his mask. He let out a delighted rumble and pulled Itachi even closer, crushing the boy against his side.
"I accept!" Ganesha whispered fiercely. "And in return, I shall ensure you are known across the heavens and the earth as the Ghost Weasel of the Labyrinth, from this day forward!"
He released Itachi, who straightened his robe without a word, then spun toward the lingering gods and flung an arm at the doors. "Make way! Make way to the chamber! The Denatus begins now!"
Hermes watched him go, one eyebrow raised. Fascinating. The God of the Masses, famously impartial in all matters of Guild business, was acting aggressively chummy with a Guild employee, and by the look of it, accepting requests from him too. He tilted his head and caught Asfi's gaze.
Asfi returned a sharp nod, but her attention had already moved past him to the rep himself. As vice-captain, she was picking the problem apart from a different angle. How did the Guild come by technology like the teleportation network? And why was Itachi standing apart from the rest of the Guild representatives?
-◈ -
Ganesha
The procession wound down the elevators to the 30th floor, and by the time Ganesha reached the bottom, the Guild escorts were already standing at the doors of the Denatus chamber. As the doors groaned open, they corralled the deities inside and firmly turned the bulk of the attendants away at the threshold. Only the Guild's own attendants passed through, carrying an ornate display box between them, and Itachi followed them in.
As the pantheon filed inside, the vast room swallowed the crowd. The vaulted ceiling captured the scrape of heavy chairs and the rustling of robes as the gods claimed their seats around the circular chamber. Ganesha broke away from the current of bodies, the crowd parting easily around his frame as he climbed the short steps to the central dais. Below him, the attendants set the display box on a small table beside the dais and withdrew to the back of the room, where Itachi stood waiting.
From his vantage point at the head of the room, Ganesha watched the Denatus tear itself in two.
At the far end, it was business as usual. The petty alias banter had already started, with one god loudly complaining that his candidate, "The Deep Wobbler," had been unfairly vetoed.
But closer to Ganesha, the air was suffocating. A somber knot of deities pressed around Loki, offering hushed condolences. Loki accepted them with exhausted nods, her usual fiery spark completely smothered. The dread in her corner was contagious. Minor gods who were only just hearing the bloody details of the Babel execution sat pale and rigid, letting the terror of Evilus seep into their bones.
Ganesha rubbed the thick parchment Itachi slipped him, his thumb tracing the edges as he read the room's fracturing morale. The grief was too heavy. If he let them stew in this dread, the city's leadership would break. They didn't need a moment of silence; they needed their festival god to make some noise.
Besides, the night still had a miracle to give them. Ganesha glanced toward the back of the room, where the boy who made it stood quietly among the attendants, and a spark of secret amusement warmed his chest. If only they knew what the Ghost Weasel could truly do.
When Shakti gave a crisp nod from the perimeter, confirming that every deity was inside, Ganesha didn't hesitate. He brought both palms down on the polished wood with a crack that shattered the morbid chatter.
"Gods of Orario!" His voice rolled across the table, thick with theatrical gravity. "Tonight, we gather after a hard night. Evilus showed its fangs inside our walls, and we lost some of our children." He let the heavy truth hang just long enough to honor Loki's pain. "But Orario bared its teeth right back! Those responsible have answered for it. The Evil Gods will try again, of that I have no doubt, and it falls to us to be ready when they do!"
He watched the pantheon brace themselves for a grim war council. It was the perfect opening.
"But!" Ganesha threw his arms wide, switching from grim general to boisterous showman in a heartbeat, and the sudden change made the entire room sit up. "Before we name a single child tonight, I bring you news of a miracle! Our dear Guild Pig must have sat beneath a sacred tree, because the man has been enlightened!"
A few gods blinked, completely derailed. Down the table, Ganesha caught Loki settling back in her chair with a knowing smirk. So she already knew the punchline.
"You all know of the new Teleportation Network, yes?" Ganesha's booming energy filled the vaulted space. "Then behold the Guild's next marvel!"
He reached into the ornate display box beside the dais and whipped out a single metal bracelet, the one made especially for him. He held it high, giving them a clear view of the chaotic, multi-colored metals and the bizarre emblem of a laughing skull wearing a straw hat.
Glancing at Itachi's slip for the name, Ganesha's mask tilted. Communication Bracelets. That was it. No flair, no grandeur, nothing that stirred the soul. The boy had impeccable taste in robes, but his naming sense needed work, and Ganesha made a note to educate him on the matter once he was home.
For now, he swallowed his disappointment and gave the name everything he had. "I give you the Communication Bracelets!" he boomed, launching into the pitch. "No Arcanum required! None! All you need is the intent to speak to another wearer, and the connection is made." He paused, letting his eyes settle on the smiths in the room. "Think of the Divine Mirrors of Tenkai. Voice only, but no less a wonder."
The claim was so impossible that, for the first time that night, the room forgot its dread.
"And that's not all!" Ganesha pushed on, riding the stunned silence. "Speak your name into it clearly, and it remembers you. Every time you call, your name announces itself to whoever answers. No fooling around!"
Hephaestus was out of her seat so fast that it looked as if she teleported. She marched straight to the dais and snatched a bracelet from the display box, her single visible eye frantically tracing the colored inlays, hunting for a maker's mark that wasn't there.
"A Mirror without Arcanum?" Hephaestus demanded, her voice tight with obsessive frustration. Her gaze swept the room, hunting for a Guild representative to drag out and interrogate. "That defies the fundamental laws of Gekai forging. I need to investigate whoever crafted these immediately."
The tension broke. All around the table, the grief was forgotten as gods leaned forward with greedy eyes fixed on the box of metal bands.
Ganesha smiled beneath his mask, ignoring Hephaestus's crisis. He had them.
"Oh, you shall investigate!" Ganesha boomed, holding Itachi's parchment high. "But first, the enlightened Royman has set his prices! For Familias of D-Rank and above, the Base Package for a deity and their captain is 50,000 valis a month, with a 100,000 valis deposit!"
He let the groans from the poorer factions swell before cutting them off with a raised hand.
"Now, now, do not despair! E-Rank Familias, you get 25% off! F-Ranks, 40%! G-Ranks, half price! H-Ranks, 60% off! And for our humblest I-Rank Familias, it costs you nothing at all!"
Surprised cheers erupted from the lower ranks. Ganesha let them celebrate for exactly two seconds before delivering the catch.
"Of course, every valis of those discounts will be deducted from your future Guild contributions!"
The cheers choked off and turned into grumbling mutters.
"And finally," Ganesha went on, "any Familia wanting extra bracelets for their members may buy them at 75,000 valis a month, plus a 50,000 valis deposit each. And no discounts on extras!"
Without waiting for the groans to resume, he folded the parchment away and turned his voice toward the doors. "Let the Guild Representative enter!"
The doors cracked open, and Rehmer squeezed through. The Chienthrope looked terrified, clutching a ledger to his chest while two Guild escorts trailed behind him carrying the lockboxes. Walking the gauntlet of eager deities, Rehmer scurried up the steps to the dais and stopped short with a trembling bow.
"L-Lord Ganesha," Rehmer stammered, his voice barely a squeak. He swallowed hard, fighting his own panic to force the words out. "Lord Ganesha. I bring the first allotment of the artifacts, as requested."
Ganesha leaned down, pitching his voice into a soothing rumble meant for the Chienthrope alone. "Breathe, my friend. You are safe here. None of my peers will jump on you, I promise. Calm your nerves and take your time."
Rehmer let out a shaky exhale, and his rigid shoulders dropped a fraction. "Thank you, Lord Ganesha."
As the representative gathered his courage to face the crowd, Ganesha looked down at the bracelet still in his hand. He was so busy showing it off that he never gave it a proper look. Turning the metal over in his palm, his thumb brushed against a smaller inlay near the clasp—a crimson cloud with a white outline.
Ganesha slapped his own thigh with a thwack, a silent laugh vibrating in his chest. The Ghost Weasel strikes again! The audacity of the boy, leaving his cultural signature right under the Guild Pig's nose, was magnificent. Still grinning, he fastened the band around his wrist.
Nobody noticed the festival god's private celebration. The chamber was too busy watching Rehmer.
As the Chienthrope moved around the table reading off the ledger, the escorts trailed him with the lockboxes, handing out the bands one by one while Itachi guided them from the back of the room. Since the Base Package covered each Familia's captain as well, Ganesha signaled the guards to open the doors, and the captains waiting outside were ushered in to receive their bracelets.
For the next hour, the Denatus chamber transformed into a chaotic classroom. Rehmer stood at the center, sweating through his uniform as he demonstrated how to bind their names and project their intent, walking the pantheon and their captains through the miracle of Arcanum-free communication.
By the time the tutorial ended, the room buzzed with excitement.
"For any Familias interested in securing extra units," Rehmer announced, his voice cracking as he bowed to the room, "please meet me at the Guild's merchant liaison counter in the Pantheon!"
With a desperate bow, the Chienthrope fled the chamber, and Itachi slipped into the shadows, leaving behind a clamoring sea of gods testing their new toys.
-◈ -
General Pov
Watching the chaos, Ganesha tapped his chin. Perhaps I should propose changing Royman's alias to the 'Enlightened Pig'? He chewed on the thought for a moment before discarding it. No. This genius was Itachi's doing, and Ganesha refused to accidentally give that bureaucrat an ounce of unearned credit.
He let his peers enjoy the thrill of their new toys for a few minutes more before deciding it was time to get back to the main event. Stepping forward, he ushered the captains back out the heavy doors. Once the room was cleared of mortals, Ganesha took a deep breath.
"I AM GANESHA!"
The bellow rattled the crystal fixtures and snapped the room to attention. As the excitement over the bracelets settled into eager murmurs, the Denatus turned back to its primary purpose.
"Let the Naming Ceremony commence!"
Pulling a stack of parchment from his robes, Ganesha cleared his throat. Given the scale of their last expedition, the Loki Familia dominated the top of the ledger. He began reading off the second-tier adventurers, his voice carrying the weight of each feat. Slaying the Goliath. Crushing the Amphisbaena. Decimating Udaeus. Toppling Balor.
Normally, this was the part of the evening where the headaches began. The gods loved to bicker for hours, shouting over one another to pin dramatic or embarrassing monikers on high-ranking mortals.
Tonight was different. The heavy shadow of the Babel execution still lingered over the table, and nobody had the heart to make a scene over Loki's children.
"For the elven mage, Sylvia," a deity called out from the middle rows, skipping the usual theatrical buildup. "Given her barrage on the 37th floor... 'Crimson Tempest'?"
"Seconded," another god agreed instantly, rapping his knuckles on the wood. "No objections here."
It happened again and again. The pantheon tossed out respectable titles without their usual contrarian fuss, stamping approvals in record time. From her seat on the right, Loki leaned back and crossed her arms. Her fiery spark remained smothered by exhaustion, but a satisfied smile touched her lips as she watched her children receive their due respect.
Once the last Loki Familia name received its official stamp, Ganesha flipped to the next sheet.
"Moving on! Freya Familia!"
The chamber quieted. Across the table, Freya sat perfectly composed, resting her chin on her intertwined fingers.
Ganesha squinted at the parchment. "Only one entry tonight. Maximus Stillbon. 19 years old. Human. Leveling up from Level 3 to 4. Feat... a solo kill of the Amphisbaena."
The gods absorbed the stat line in stunned silence. A 19-year-old human soloing the Floor 27 boss as a Level 3 defied every known metric of the Dungeon.
"Given the unprecedented nature of this feat, and the unfortunate delay of the Denatus," Ganesha boomed, unbothered by the quiet, "I took the liberty of selecting an alias myself!"
He threw his arms wide, building the suspense for the kill. "Maximus shall henceforth be known as... the Primordial Dragonslayer!"
Noise erupted. First came the shock over the stat line.
"A human?!"
"A solo kill? Where did he come from?"
"Why haven't we heard of a talent like this until now?"
Then came the collective realization about the alias itself.
"Wait, that actually sounds... respectable?" a portly god muttered, scratching his chin in confusion.
"Too respectable!" another yelled, slamming his hand on the table. "It lacks the traditional flair! I veto it on the grounds of being boring!"
The room seized the flimsy excuse, and eyes darted toward Freya. The Goddess of Beauty notoriously monopolized her warriors' titles, rejecting outside input to ensure the names reflected her direct ownership. Eager to curry favor, the pantheon scrambled to cater to her assumed preference.
"It needs her brand!" a goddess argued across the table.
"How about The Silver Queen's Fang?"
Freya said nothing.
Misinterpreting her icy silence as dissatisfaction and a demand for more grandeur, the pantheon enthusiastically doubled down.
"Too plain!" a chunni god shouted from the back, striking a dramatic pose. "He needs a title that strikes true fear! Abyssal Reptile Obliterator!"
"Nonsense! Beauty's Scaled Servant is much more fitting!"
Still no reaction from Freya. Taking her stillness as a challenge, the chamber devolved. Gods vaulted out of their chairs, shouting over one another as the suggestions declined rapidly in both quality and sanity.
"Folkvangr's Majestic Lizard Kicker!"
"No, no! The Silver-Eyed Siren's Loyal Scale-Peeler!"
"Too violent! How about The Unyielding Meat-Shield of Love?!"
"What about The Draconic Heartthrob of the Silver Maiden?!"
"I have it!" a minor god shrieked from the back row. "Freya's Beautiful Double-Headed Dragon Spanker!"
From the dais, Ganesha leaned against his podium, letting the circus run its course. He stayed silent, observing the two premier goddesses.
Freya sat composed, still resting her chin on her fingers. Her face betrayed nothing, but Ganesha noticed her knuckles turning white as the titles crossed from ridiculous into downright suicidal. The subtle slip amused him to no end.
He glanced to his right. Loki uncrossed her arms, leaning forward with a hungry look. The suffocating sorrow that hung over her all night finally cracked, and a foxy grin stretched across her face. Watching the infallible Goddess of Beauty sit through this much second-hand embarrassment was pulling the trickster back to life.
"If I may," Hermes called out, his smooth voice cutting through the mounting chaos. He tipped his hat, smiling across the table. "Since the boy and I share a certain origin, I have the perfect title. Initially, I thought of suggesting Freya's Gold Smuggler—"
Hermes paused. Ganesha watched the messenger god catch the flash of murder in Freya's eyes. Knowing the goddess's temper, Hermes smoothly pivoted to save his own life.
"—but knowing your refined tastes, my lady, I changed it to suit my own namesake! I propose The Winged Messenger's Herald! Or perhaps The Swift-Footed Dragon Buster? Oh, wait, what about The Wandering—"
"I approve of Primordial Dragonslayer."
The same gods who were shouting over one another a moment ago turned on a dime. The god who vetoed the name for being boring was the first to slam his hand on the table again, this time in approval. "A fine choice! Truly fitting!" Others quickly joined in, nodding and clapping and praising the alias as dignified, majestic, exactly what such a feat deserved, as if none of them ever suggested anything else.
Under the applause, more than a few of them shot sour looks at the dais. Freya never accepted anyone else's name for her children, and yet Ganesha, of all gods, picked one on his first try and walked away with her approval. A goddess near the back muttered something about beginner's luck, and the god beside her grumbled in agreement, glaring at the festival god as if he stole their golden chance.
Then, right in the middle of all the noise, Freya spaced out.
Her silver eyes lost their focus, and the goddess went still, deaf to the room around her. A flash of pure surprise broke her serene expression before it melted into a radiant grin. She wasn't looking at the room, but listening to a voice.
One by one, the gods realized it too. The remaining murmurs died down as they tracked Freya's distant expression and noticed the new metallic band strapped to her wrist, and whispers replaced the shouts.
"Is she using the bracelet already?"
"Who is she talking to?"
"Is Maximus her newest obsession?"
Calculating looks passed between the minor gods as they silently laid plans to investigate this mysterious Dragonslayer and figure out how to get closer to him.
Others took a different approach. "As expected of Lady Freya," a goddess said loudly, making sure she could hear. "Showing us how it's done before the rest of us have even figured out how to bind our names!" The praise caught on at once. Around the chamber, gods nodded eagerly and chimed in one after another, admiring her foresight, her grace, and how naturally she took to the bracelet, each of them trying to be heard over the last.
"Do we have any further objections to the Primordial Dragonslayer?" Ganesha asked one last time, his voice cutting through the flattery, and the table fell quiet as every head turned back toward the dais.
Freya blinked, her eyes returning to the present. "An experiment in which he needed Ottar, huh," she murmured to herself, too low for anyone else to hear. Then she offered the room a serene smile. Hearing no protest, Ganesha stamped the parchment with a heavy thud.
"Moving on! Ganesha Familia!" He pulled his own ledger to the center of the podium. "Ilta Falke. Leveling up from Level 3 to 4. Feat..."
The proceedings dragged on. Time bled away as the pantheon waded through the minor ranks. The air in the chamber grew stale with incense and exhaustion, and deities slumped into their chairs as the night stretched into the deeper hours.
Finally, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Ganesha pulled the last sheet from the pile.
"The final entry," he announced, his voice dropping a decibel. "Liliruca Arde. 8 years old. Pallum. Soma Familia. Leveling up from Level 1 to 2. Feat... slaying a Minotaur."
The exhaustion in the room evaporated, and heads snapped up. Slaying a Minotaur at Level 1 was rare even for once-in-a-generation geniuses, let alone an 8 year-old pallum.
Murmurs swelled as gods swiveled in their chairs, searching the middle rows for the reclusive God of Wine. Given the state of his Familia, they expected to find him slouched and absent as always, with the smell of fermenting wine clinging to him.
Instead, they found Soma sitting upright.
The gods in the immediate row openly stared. Soma looked remarkably healthy. His unkempt bangs were pulled neatly to the side, revealing focused eyes and a face free of its usual sickly pallor.
"Is that... Soma?" a goddess whispered loudly.
"He looks awake," another muttered. "I heard a rumor this morning... talk of a sudden purge within his ranks. Expelled veterans, a brand-new captain, a complete restructuring."
"Let us open the floor for recommendations!" Ganesha called out, reeling the room back to the impossible eight-year-old.
The pantheon hesitated, grappling with the absurdity of a child toppling a Floor 15 monster. Then the suggestions poured in.
"Little Braver!" a god shouted from the back. "A pallum with a feat like that? She clearly has the makings of another Finn!"
"Are you blind? A prodigy like that isn't a tactician!" another countered from the left. "She sounds more like the Little Ais! Speaking of..." The minor deity leaned over the table, eyes gleaming with political greed. "What is the status of the Little Sword right now, Loki? Did the expedition push her to Level 4?"
Silence fell over the right side of the table, and heads turned toward the Loki Familia matriarch.
Loki didn't blink. She kept her arms crossed and stared at the far wall, ignoring the bait. Not a chance. She wasn't about to let these vultures drag her daughter into their dick measuring contest tonight.
With Loki refusing to play along, the chamber awkwardly shifted gears and went back to tossing out titles for the Soma pallum. Since the God of Wine remained silent, the pantheon felt free to run wild.
"The Minotaur's Kneecapper!"
"The Bite-Sized Butcher!"
"Too brutal for an eight-year-old!" a goddess objected.
"How about The Tiny Titan-Slayer?"
"She's a supporter, not a vanguard," a scholarly god argued.
"What about something mythological? A hero who outwitted their betters?"
The debate shifted, bouncing between ancient texts and heroic epics, and for 20 minutes, the room argued over the merits of various tricksters and diminutive conquerors without settling on one.
Then Ganesha, who stayed quiet through the whole debate, leaned forward on his podium. "How about Vamana?"
The suggestion caught the room by surprise, and for a moment, nobody answered.
Across the chamber, Loki lifted her gaze from the far wall. Ever since someone called the girl another Finn, she found herself listening. Vamana, huh. The dwarf god who asked a demon king for as much land as he could cover in three steps, then grew until he encompassed the whole world, took the earth and the heavens in two strides, and pushed the demon down into the underworld with the third. The smallest one, turning the scales on the mightiest. Before anyone could object, she spoke.
"Vamana," she said, a faint grin tugging at her lips. "I like it."
That was all the room needed. The gods who were still weighing the name a moment ago nodded at once, and approvals came from every side of the table, each god eager to be heard agreeing with her.
Then a god near the middle of the table sat up straight. "Wait. Wait a moment. That's twice!"
Heads turned toward him.
"Twice in one night!" he cried, pointing at the dais. "First Lady Freya approves his name, and now Loki? Since when does Ganesha get a name right on the first try?"
"Foul!" another god shouted, slamming his hand on the table. "Somebody wrote these for him!"
"He's been hoarding names all year, I knew it!"
Ganesha only laughed, booming loud enough to drown them all out. "Then it is decided!" he declared, raising his stamp. "Liliruca Arde shall be known as... Vamana!"
He brought the stamp down on the wood before anyone could lodge a formal protest, and its echo signaled the end of the Naming Ceremony.
As the grumbling settled, Ganesha looked across the room, and his gaze landed on Soma. The reclusive God of Wine sat motionless, staring at the freshly stamped parchment. He didn't look sick or absent. Then his lips twitched, breaking years of apathy, and formed a genuine smile.
"With that, the Naming Ceremony is complete!" Ganesha announced. "We shall take a short recess, and when we return, we will discuss the Guild's newest policy!"
All around the room, the deities began to rise from their chairs, groaning and stretching stiff limbs. Ganesha stepped down from the dais and made his way to the lounge attached to the chamber, where he sank into a cushioned seat and let out a heavy breath. The tension drained from his shoulders. It was a good end to a brutal night. The grief that choked the room hours ago was gone, replaced by the chatter of gods admiring their new toys out in the chamber.
He glanced down at his wrist. The metal band sat snug against his skin, and his thumb brushed the crimson cloud.
Once the policy session ended, he had no intention of sleeping. All he wanted to do was to lock himself in his workshop with his paints.
His elephant mask served him well, but it clashed with the bracelet. He needed a new design. Something bold. Something that properly matched a laughing skull wearing a straw hat.
"I am Ganesha," he whispered, a grin stretching beneath his painted trunk.
-◈ -
Max
While the pantheon bickered over his title above, he stood deep in the dungeon, setting the stage for his next plan.
As soon as the execution ended, he slipped away from Freya's side to his PAL office, and from there, he brought Ottar and Hogni down to the 38th floor. That was roughly an hour ago. While Hogni spent that hour teaching Ottar Geppo, Max scouted the floor for the right spot, and he finally found it.
Compared to the cavernous boss arenas on the floor above, the 38th floor felt claustrophobic. The terrain was tight and unforgiving. It choked mobility and funneled movement, which made it a perfect environment for a trap.
The plan was simple. If he damaged the Dungeon enough, it would spawn a Juggernaut to deal with him.
Securing Freya's permission for the stunt took little effort. He deliberately timed his request for the middle of the Denatus, reaching her through his bracelet, and claimed he was running an experiment. Which was true. Having her two executives watch his back just ensured the experiment didn't end with his head rolling across the stone.
Max ignored the gloomy surroundings and focused on his hands. Pulling a storage pouch from his belt, he tipped a cascade of silver rings into his palm and slid them onto his fingers one by one. Each band pulsed with a stored cast of his most devastating spell, dozens of them in all, primed and waiting.
A few yards away, Hogni kicked off the air and rose, demonstrating the precise footwork of Geppo one more time. Below him, Ottar watched the movement, tracking every muscle twitch required to treat empty space like solid ground.
Max turned his attention to his shoulder. "Are you ready, buddy?"
Kairu responded in a heartbeat. The slime flowed down from his shoulder and hardened into a rigid carapace over Max's vitals, thicker than it ever made it before, and a sharp Ki! vibrated through the plating against his chest.
Max knew what they were provoking too. The difference was that Kairu would wear the armor, while Max planned to greet the arrival with his sword in hand.
A heavy thud echoed across the stone. Max looked over to find Ottar landing flush from a mid-air step. The Warlord picked up the technique in an hour.
Of course it took him only an hour, Max thought. With a body like Ottar's, he expected nothing less.
With the new technique in hand, Ottar drew his greatsword. Hogni landed beside him, his cursed blade already humming, and the two of them took position behind Max, forming a wall of muscle and steel at his back.
"We are ready," Ottar rumbled, and Hogni nodded in agreement.
"Don't blink," Max warned, stepping up to the blank Dungeon wall.
He raised his hands, aiming his ring-laden fingers at the organic stone, and pushed magic into the first batch of silver bands. The stored spells fired in unison.
"Hadō #88. Hiryū Gekizoku Shinten Raihō."
Dozens of Dragon Lightning Cannons erupted from his hands.
A blinding flash lit up the cavern. Pillars of electricity slammed into the wall, shattering rock and vaporizing debris, and the force shoved Max back a step as the cavern filled with the stench of ozone.
When the smoke cleared, a scorched crater sat in the wall, black slag dripping down its face. But the Dungeon stayed silent.
"Not enough," Max muttered.
He cycled magic into the next set of rings, and another volley tore across the cavern, deepening the crater. Still nothing.
Tough crowd.
Max settled into a rhythm. The recoil traveled up his arms, jarring his shoulders as he chewed through his arsenal, and the silver bands burned against his skin, dumping heat as they emptied. The third, fourth, fifth, and sixth volleys slammed into the wall, melting the stone into a glowing ruin.
He shifted his footing, aiming at a fresh patch of organic rock. He was not sure how many he needed, but he would guarantee the spawn. As he cycled magic into the seventh batch, letting the rings flare and the attack to form, the Dungeon finally snapped.
A wail of agony ripped through the cavern. And unlike normal sound, this sound spiked straight into his skull—resembling a raw cry of despair that rattled his teeth and sent a wave of nausea rolling through his gut. The floor heaved, raining dust from the ceiling, and against his chest, Kairu's plating clamped down tighter.
Behind him, Ottar planted his feet, and Hogni's grip tightened on his sword. The wail didn't hit them as hard as it hit Max, but an invisible pressure closed in on them all the same, squeezing down on them from every side.
Max flinched and tried to choke off the spells before they fired, but it was too late. The seventh volley erupted, and dozens of Lightning Cannons slammed into the fresh stone, blasting the wall into ash with the same devastating force.
The wail cut off at once, and a crushing silence fell over the cavern. The air pressure dropped, popping his ears. Max knew what that meant. The Juggernaut was spawning.
Then came a sharp crack, and the floor behind Ottar and Hogni fractured.
"Oops," Max said, blowing out a breath. "Maybe I went a bit overboard. Be ready, people. It is coming."
Behind him, Ottar and Hogni were already turning toward the cracks, their blades raised. Max shook the spent rings off his fingers into the pouch, drew the Amphisbaena bone sword with his right hand, and slid his adamantite and mythril knuckleduster onto his left.
A blur of dark bone erupted from the ground. It vaulted out of the rubble, leaping right past Hogni before he could swing, and charged straight for Max, its glowing claws raised high and ready to tear him in half.
The moment Max saw it, adrenaline flooded his veins, and the burn in his hands vanished under a spike of pure thrill. His pulse hammered in his ears. He tightened his right hand around the heavy drag of the bone sword and clenched his left into a fist, the knuckleduster's metal biting into his skin.
He grinned. Show time.
--> Devil in a Dungeon <--
AN:
What a chapter, huh. We went from Loki making peace to Ganesha cheering his fellow Gods, to the usual chaos of Denatus and finally Max proving himself why he is the mad lad.
Honestly, when I got the idea, I thought its truly big brain move only to realise the monster I created, lmao. We will dive deeper into the whole logistics and how much planning went into this in the next chapter as I feel this will go on for a chapter or 2.
Also I hope you love the 'creative' aliases the Gods suggested. Freya was gunning to hold her dignity and magnanimously accept Ganesha's suggestion only for the Gods to make it a desperate one. ;)
Also what is Ganesha on about being friends with Itachi and Hermes about being related to Max, hmm?
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.
Next update will be on Friday. There won't be an update on Tuesday, instead 2 updates will be on the weekend to make up for it back to back.
Ben, Out.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.