Max had spent the entire morning helping around the hotel. He fixed loose boards, straightened crooked fixtures, re-aligned the lobby chandelier Alastor had "playfully improved," and updated some decorations to make the place feel more welcoming and less… possessed.
Alastor's aesthetic could be charming, but only in small doses.
Max wiped dust off his hands and surveyed the now-cohesive lobby with a satisfied nod. "Not bad. If I keep this up, maybe this place will look less 'Haunted New Orleans' and more 'Cozy Chaotic Salvation.'"
He lifted a painting to rehang it when the thought escaped his mouth before he could stop it:
"Actually… I don't even know if I can go to Heaven."
"Of course you can," a cheerful voice said right behind him.
Max nearly dropped the painting. "Wha— Charlie?! When did you—?"
Charlie stood there grinning, hands clasped behind her back. "We're just missing one thing."
"Right, right," Max said, pretending this was normal. "Speaking of… any word from your father? I thought you were going to ask him about arranging a meeting in Heaven."
Charlie blinked in surprise. She had only spoken about that with Vaggie in their room, quietly, privately.
Max raised a hand defensively. "Don't worry, I wasn't listening in. I'm not stalking you two. I just… connect the dots. You want Heaven to acknowledge your project. The Exterminations threaten your hotel. And your father still has angelic ties."
Charlie sighed, partly impressed, partly uneasy. "You really are sharp, Max."
"Well, I try," he replied with a small smirk, turning to adjust Husk's area so it blended better with the lobby. "So. Any luck?"
"No." Charlie's wings drooped slightly. "Dad's… avoiding the topic."
"Heard that's one of his talents," Max teased lightly.
Charlie giggled, then glanced at him curiously. "So… how was Earth? Still better than Hell?"
Max snorted. "Not as good as I remember. I was only there on a mission, but honestly? Not much good there anymore. Hell's better."
Her eyebrows lifted. "Really?"
"Yeah." Max grabbed a cloth and wiped down a dusty shelf while Niffty zipped past cleaning at lightning speed. "Here, everyone's brutally honest. Sinners can't hide their true selves. You know what to expect from people."
Charlie nodded thoughtfully. "You know… you never talk about your former life." She leaned in, poking one of his wolf ears. "There has to be a reason you have these cute things."
The ear twitched involuntarily. His tail betrayed him entirely, thumping once in pleasure at the unexpected contact.
Max cleared his throat. "W-well. I'm not proud of it. I preyed on misfortune. I used people with promises of a better life. Got rich. Influential. Untouchable." His voice dimmed. "And then my conscience finally woke up—right before someone killed me."
Charlie's expression softened.
"Maybe helping you redeem others might help redeem me," Max said quietly. "But I'm… not sure I want that. I have you, Vaggie, Loona, Bee, Octavia… everyone. Never thought I'd find love in Hell. Much less so much of it."
Charlie stepped closer, gently kissing his cheek. "Then you're the one person I don't want redeemed."
Max grinned. "Does that mean I can sleep with you and Vaggie tonight?"
She burst into laughter. "Nice try!"
She floated backward a few feet before turning toward the hallway. Max watched her go with a warm feeling in his chest.
He finished tidying the last corner and headed toward his room.
"Alright," he exhaled. "Let's see… Beelzebub."
A swirling black hole made of purple smoke spiraled open in the center of his room. A skill window—metaphysical and archaic—flickered before his eyes.
"He really gave me this," Max muttered, scrolling through the list. "Unbelievable. And he said I had angelic abilities too, right? I remember Raphael's and Uriel's… not that I need either right now. What else is there?"
Invocation after invocation scrolled by, but nothing practical for a casual afternoon.
"Ugh. Nothing that's not overkill," Max groaned as the ability window faded.
He checked his phone. Dozens of messages.
Loona complaining about Blitz's yelling.
Octavia sending a quiet 'you okay?'
Charlie sending a sweet selfie.
Vaggie threatening to stab him if he didn't drink water.
Bee sending a picture of a massive party platter labeled "FOR MAX ONLY."
He responded to each one, smiling at some, raising an eyebrow at others.
"Oh—right. I promised I'd visit Octavia." Max stretched. "Poor girl's probably exhausted from all the yelling between her parents."
He was about to leave when the shadows behind him rippled.
Alastor stepped out, radio static crackling.
"My, my," he crooned. "Struggling to keep your girls in line, little secret overlord?"
Max didn't turn around. "I'm guessing you saw me teleport?"
"Oh, I saw far more than that." Alastor adjusted his microphone cane. "Tell me—who did you sell your soul to for such power? You've only been here a couple of years, yes? Yet you hide your abilities. Quite the mystery. Who holds your contract?"
Max finally faced him. "I'm not telling you. And I don't need a reason."
Alastor's grin widened. "Then let's make a deal. Tell me who you belong to… and I won't tell Charlie that her man's soul belongs to someone else."
He extended his hand.
Max took it.
Nothing happened.
Alastor's smile faltered.
A whisper left Max's lips, soft but heavy:
"Amaterasu."
White-hot flames erupted from the air, forming a blazing ring around them. Shadows dissolved instantly. The heat didn't burn the room, but it devoured every escape route Alastor had.
Max stepped forward, eyes glowing faintly.
"You'll keep quiet because I say you will. These flames strip away shadows. You have nowhere to run."
Alastor's smile twitched. Static sputtered. Then—poof—he vanished, forcibly expelled from the room.
Max stared at the extinguishing embers.
"…Strange. I wasn't supposed to have that ability." He rubbed his chin. "He said only demonic and angelic skills… but maybe he added 'everything' just to mess with me. Most Ultimate skills are overkill anyway."
He grabbed his coat and stepped toward the door.
"Alright, Octavia. Let's go see the stars."