Max appeared a few blocks away from the location Ozzie recommended, staring up at the towering glass-and-gold building with a low whistle.
"Damn… fancy," he muttered. "Thank Lucifer I didn't choose Ozzie's club. That place is… a little more 'scream lust at full volume' than any of us want for a date. And seriously—naming the most popular venue after yourself? Peak hellborn narcissism."
He snapped his fingers. Black smoke wrapped around him and reshaped into a perfectly tailored suit: obsidian fabric lined in silver thread, collar open just enough to show confidence but not arrogance. Polished shoes. Hair smoothed. Tie straightened.
"Okay. I look like I belong here," he said, inhaling deeply. "Probably."
A demon hostess guided him through a marble lobby, up a private elevator, and then out onto a breathtaking rooftop terrace. The air shimmered with magical warmth, lanterns hanging over a table set with crystal glasses, glossy plates, and a view of the entire Pride Ring skyline.
Then he froze.
They were all waiting for him.
Charlie. Vaggie. Loona. Octavia. Bee.
Every single one of them dressed to kill—and dressed specifically for him.
Charlie in a soft white-gold dress, glowing like literal royalty.
Vaggie in a sleek black gown with slits that showed more leg than usual.
Loona in a dark red, shredded, punk-luxe dress that screamed "bite me."
Octavia in a star-speckled velvet gown that sparkled when she moved.
Bee in a shimmering honey-gold dress that practically radiated party-goddess energy.
Max's brain stopped. His heart too. Maybe even the laws of physics.
He just stared.
Loona smirked. "What? Cat got your tongue, wolf boy?"
His tail—traitorous, overexcited—started wagging hard. He snapped his hand back to grab it and force it still. All of them giggled because of course they found that adorable.
Max cleared his throat and sat down, struggling to behave like a functional being.
Bee popped a honey candy between her lips. "Sooo… Maxie. What exactly did Ozzie want you for?"
He exhaled, bracing himself.
He'd wanted to bring this up at the right moment.
"Well… before I answer that… I have something to tell everyone," he said. "I'm an Overlord."
He winced—physically flinched—waiting for shouting, shock, accusations.
But instead…
Loona snorted.
Vaggie raised a brow.
Octavia sipped her drink.
Charlie blinked once.
Bee didn't even stop eating.
"We know," Loona said flatly. "You suck at hiding it. I figured it out ages ago—like when you popped from one side of Hell to the other like it was nothing."
"Literally the only two who didn't know were Charlie and me," Vaggie added. "And that got settled yesterday."
Max stared at them. "I—I was mentally prepared for seafood to be thrown at me. Or for the table to explode. Or for Charlie to cry."
Charlie smiled gently. "Max… you're bad at pretending to be normal."
"…What sort of Overlord are you?" Octavia asked, genuinely curious. "I thought all of them had a title. Like Alastor the Radio Demon. Vox the TV douchebag."
"Well…" Max rubbed his neck. "It's weird. In the human world's mythology, there's this wolf called Fenrir—giant wolf destined to bring ruin. When I got my status here, the title attached was Fenrir, Overlord of Ruin. Not exactly subtle."
Vaggie eyed him. "That's perfect for you."
"Huh?! How?"
"Because 'ruin' means you can destroy threats," she said simply. "And you're protective. It fits."
Max flushed—slightly embarrassed.
"Anyway," he said, "I'm more worried about how your parents are going to react to us formalizing the engagement. Because if any of your dads—especially yours, Charlie—find out I let this happen without talking to them… I am doomed."
All of them froze.
Dead still.
Max blinked. "Wait… none of you told them?!"
A guilty silence.
"You know how important this is! All of your dads are powerful as hell! Lucifer's going to kick my ass! Stolas might vaporize me! And Loona—your dad may be an imp but Blitzo is terrifying when he wants to be!"
Loona shrugged. "What's he gonna do, shoot you? You can't die."
"That is not the point!"
Bee waved her fork casually. "Relax. We'll tell them later. After dessert."
Max dragged his hands down his face. "This is how Overlords die. Not battles. Not holy weapons. It's girlfriends' dads."
Charlie coughed politely. "So… Ozzie?"
Max leaned back.
"Ozzie wanted me to clean up the Lust Ring. The Vees tried pushing lust potions into his territory. I wiped the operations out."
Loona grinned. "Bet that was fun."
"Actually yes. Very."
Conversation slowly flowed into stories—how each girl met Max, their first impressions, embarrassing moments, stupid jokes, their happiest memories of him. Max got flustered at least fifteen times.
Then he noticed something.
Rings.
Each girl had one on her ring finger.
Elegant, personalized, glowing faintly with magic.
"Uh… wow. Nice rings," Max said. "How did I not notice those?"
The girls exchanged identical mischievous smiles.
"Engagement rings," they said in unison.
Bee snapped her fingers and five matching rings appeared in little velvet boxes.
"For you," Octavia said shyly, "for each of us."
Max stared at the rings—each tailored to the girl who gave it to him. It hit him all at once. The weight of emotion. Love. Commitment. The absurd reality he never expected in Hell.
He tried sliding all five onto one finger—failed immediately.
"Yeah, uh," Loona said, laughing, "maybe one per finger, genius."
Vaggie nodded. "When the wedding happens, we'll all get matching bands. But for now, wear them however you like."
Max slipped them on—one for each finger. They glowed warmly, attuning to him, magic syncing with his soul.
He looked up at all of them.
"I… I'm glad we did this," he whispered.
Charlie leaned forward. "Max… we're glad too."
Bee clapped her hands. "Alright! Serious moment over. Who's ready for dessert?"
Max blinked. "…Actually, before dessert, how are we getting back? Because the Pride Ring's checkpoints close in—"
Loona smirked and dangled keys.
"You forget," she said, "I'm the best damn driver in Hell."
Max groaned.
Bee cheered.
Octavia laughed.
Charlie panicked.
Vaggie swore.
And together—loud, chaotic, arguing, flirting—they headed for the elevator, the city lights of Hell blazing around them like fireworks.