Max sat across from Asmodeus, unsure what the Sin truly wanted from him. The office was far quieter now that the others had left. The thick velvet drapes muffled outside sound, leaving only the faint hum of enchantments woven into the walls. Despite the luxurious comfort around him, Max felt tension creep along his spine.
"So… Asmodeus," Max finally said, sitting straighter. "What exactly do you need me for?"
Asmodeus's lips curled upward. "It's Ozzie to friends, Max. And considering you're now engaged to Bee—plus the Morningstar family—I'd say you have more than enough connection to call me that." He leaned forward. "Mister Overlord."
Max let out a long, tired sigh. "Bee told you, didn't she?"
"Yes," Ozzie said with a pleased nod. "When she found out, she immediately informed me since this appointment was already arranged a week ago. And I must say… it usually takes a soul far longer to ascend to Overlord status. I'm impressed. I don't have many Overlords in my Ring—about ninety-five percent of sinners flock to Pride instead—but a few do end up here."
Max rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Alright. So what? You don't strike me as the type who uses blackmail. And I was planning to tell everyone during a date after all the paperwork and certification were done, anyway."
Ozzie chuckled, waving a dismissive hand. "It's nothing nefarious, I promise. Merely something I need help with." His eyes narrowed just slightly. "I'm sure you've already had run-ins with the Vees?"
A small flare of magical aura pulsed off him—pink and violet anger twisting like fire.
"You know about them?" Max asked, raising a brow. "I mean, yes—I've been trying to figure out how to deal with them, but they're incredibly influential in Pentagram City. If I outright destroy them, the public backlash will hit Charlie hard. Her hotel would fail, and I'm not doing that to her."
"Oh, I know of them," Ozzie growled. "And I make it a point that lust and love must be real in Hell. But the Vees—" his eyes blazed with a deeper, hotter pink "—are selling Lust potions. And worse, they're starting to sell them here. In my Ring."
Max blinked. "What? How? Sinners can't travel between circles—at least not without being summoned. And I'm certain you have the power to deal with this yourself."
Ozzie stood abruptly, pacing to the side of his desk. "The Vees are clever. They've been using hellborn under their command to spread their product. I can handle anything that happens inside Lust… but I cannot touch their Pride operations. When the Rings were first established, we Sins made an agreement: no direct interference or influence in another Sin's territory. It's considered territorial expansion. And Hell wasn't meant to work like that."
He glared toward the window overlooking his Ring.
"What I need from you is simple: destroy their operation being run inside Lust. And destroy the method they're using to get the product here. If you do that, they'll back off. My research suggests they're using my Ring as a testing ground. I won't allow it."
Max folded his arms. "And what's in it for me?"
He would've done it regardless—he hated the Vees—but this was Hell. Doing anything for free marked you as easy prey. He wasn't risking that.
Before he could focus further, something in his mind jolted. A flash—not a memory from Earth, not from the Entity, but from the human identity he constructed. The lie he crafted. The emotions tied to it struck him with a dizzying lurch.
"What the—?" Max whispered, hand to his head as another wave of memories pressed in.
Ozzie stopped. "You okay?"
Max took a breath, stabilizing. "Yeah. Just… fragments."
Ozzie tapped his claws together. "Well, aside from being 'backed' by me—meaning anyone who messes with you or your girls deals with the Sin of Lust directly—you'll get massive discounts across the entire Ring. And I know the perfect place for your date. Best seats in the house. So?"
Max nodded. "Why not? I like building connections, and I definitely hate the Vees. I'll handle it. Just… make sure no one touches my girls. I don't want to start too much bloodshed here."
"Done," Ozzie said with a sharp grin.
Max stood, gave a short, respectful nod, and vanished.
--
He reappeared atop the tallest building in the Lust Ring, the warm neon glow painting his clothes in shifting reds and pinks. The wind carried the distant sounds of nightlife—laughter, music, and something distinctly unholy—but Max tuned it all out.
"Alright," he murmured. "Let's see…"
He clasped his hands together.
"Let's try Omnipresence."
His consciousness shattered outward—slivers of thought racing across timelines, moments, possibilities, vantage points. Every street in Lust. Every rooftop. Every shadow. Every transaction. Every heartbeat echoing through the Ring.
It nearly overwhelmed him.
Nearly.
After several seconds of intense focus, three hotspots lit up in his mind: three locations where Vee-controlled hellborn were dealing.
With a short grunt of effort, Max pulled himself back into one timeline.
"Got you."
He smirked.
"Let's try something new."
His body shimmered, then split like a reflection across shattered glass. Two clones stepped out from the distortion, perfect copies—same power, same awareness, same confidence.
Max cracked his knuckles. "You two take the smaller groups. I'll handle the main one."
They nodded, then vanished into streaks of shadow.
Max teleported directly into the heart of the largest operation.
---
He appeared inside a massive warehouse tucked beneath the Lust Ring's sprawling entertainment district. Rows of vans lined the central floor, each loaded with crates of glowing pink tiles—Lust potions, concentrated, illegal, and addictive as hell.
Imps and hellborn scurried around like ants.
"Come on!" an imp snapped, tail whipping. "We gotta get this whole shipment ready before the next load arrives!"
Max stepped from the shadows with a wicked grin. "My, my. You know that's illegal, right?"
Every head turned. Some snarled. Some panicked. Some simply stared.
One hellhound growled, baring teeth. "Who the fuck are you?"
A taller demon shoved forward, gripping a shotgun. "If you know what's good for you, you'll back off! We work for the Vees directly—you mess with us, they'll—"
Max tilted his head. "Kill me? Try it."
The demon pulled the trigger before Max finished speaking.
The blast blew Max's right arm off.
It hit the concrete floor with a wet thump.
Silence fell.
Max looked down casually at the missing limb. No blood. No bone. Just smooth darkness where his shoulder ended.
"Huh," he said. "So that's what that feels like."
The stump sizzled—then melted into a mass of shadow that quickly reformed into a new arm, sleek and flawless.
"Thank Lucifer I didn't wear my good suit today," Max said with a sigh, brushing dust from his jacket. "This one was expensive, though."
That was when all hell broke loose.
Bullets rained toward him from every angle. Max snapped his fingers; a shimmering barrier of black and violet energy flared around him.
The gunfire bounced harmlessly off.
"Oh, I love this one," Max said. "World Isolation Barrier."
A dome of pure force erupted outward, sealing the entire warehouse. No teleportation. No portals. No escape.
The demons froze as the barrier solidified.
"W-What the hell is that?!" one of them sputtered.
Two hellhounds lunged at Max—fast, claws extended, jaws wide.
Max didn't even move.
He simply appeared behind them, each hand holding a severed head. The bodies hit the ground several beats later.
Screams erupted.
The remaining demons rushed him with blades, guns, even makeshift weapons.
Max moved through them like a storm.
A hand chopped through an imp's spine.
A knee shattered a hellborn's ribs.
A boot sent another crashing through a stack of crates.
A palm strike erased a skull into dust.
A flick of his wrist snapped a weapon in half—and the wielder's neck with it.
He didn't cast a single spell.
He didn't need to.
Within minutes, twenty bodies lay scattered across the concrete, some twitching, most still. The warehouse was silent except for the faint hum of his barrier.
Max walked toward the vans, the crates glowing with seductive pink light.
"You know," he murmured, resting a hand on one of the containers, "in another life, maybe I'd be tempted to use this."
His eyes shifted—deep black with burning violet irises.
"But I'm happy the way I am."
His Eyes of Destruction flared.
The crates, the vans, the potions, the tools—the entire operation—disintegrated into dust, erased at the molecular level in a wave of silent annihilation.
The barrier dissolved.
Max melted into the shadows, voice echoing faintly as he vanished:
"And I'll deal with the Pride side soon."