Max appeared in the Greed Ring in a crackle of displaced air and golden static.
And immediately understood why outsiders thought the place was poor.
Buildings leaned at odd angles. Windows were cracked. Streets were littered with scraps and broken carts. Demons in tattered suits argued over handfuls of coins like starving animals.
But if you looked closer—really looked—Greed wasn't broken.
It was hoarded.
Gold ran through the architecture like veins beneath skin. Vault doors were embedded into alley walls. Entire towers were plated in rare metals but painted over to look dull. Treasure wasn't displayed.
It was buried.
"So much wealth," Max murmured, stepping forward. "And not a coin actually circulating."
He flexed his fingers, feeling the materials beneath the ground, inside the walls, woven through the foundations of the Ring itself.
"Alright," he said, grin widening. "I've been wanting to stretch this one properly."
He teleported to the center of the Ring—right beneath Mammon's towering casino complex.
"Let's make some noise."
He lifted his hand.
"Activate — [Deus Ex Machina]."
The Ultimate Skill responded instantly.
A pulse surged outward like a silent shockwave. It rippled across the entire Ring of Greed, invisible to the eye but unmistakable to anyone attuned to material structures.
At first?
Nothing.
Then…
A tremor.
Gold plating peeled from buildings in thin sheets. Vault doors rattled. Coins vibrated in pockets. Ingots burst through brickwork.
Metal began to flow.
It streamed through the air in molten rivers without heat, without resistance, bending to Max's will. Silver, platinum, copper, gemstones—everything metallic lifted skyward.
Demons screamed as their hidden stashes tore free from walls and floors.
Within seconds, a swirling storm of wealth encircled Max.
A portion condensed, compressing and reshaping itself into an elaborate floating mechanical throne of interlocking gold segments, rotating gears, and hovering rings.
Max sat.
Crossed one leg over the other.
"Oh, this is fun."
Below him, panic spread.
Then reality warped beside him.
Mammon appeared in a burst of confetti and smoke, enormous clownish form looming, his grin stretched wide but eyes burning with fury.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Mammon roared. "Drop it! Drop all of it!"
Max rested his chin on his knuckles.
"And what if I don't?"
Mammon's grin twitched.
"Light him up!"
Demons opened fire.
Bullets, energy blasts, enchanted weapons—everything launched upward.
They stopped midair.
Frozen.
Suspended like a glittering halo of failed violence around Max.
He examined one bullet lazily.
"Material control really is underappreciated."
He snapped his fingers.
The frozen projectiles melted down and joined the swirling storm around him.
Mammon's eye twitched.
"Fine," the Sin of Greed snarled. "You want attention? You got it."
He swelled in size, body expanding grotesquely, gold chains snapping as he grew into a towering monstrosity.
Max smiled wider.
"Authorizing R-protocol."
A subtle pulse rippled outward again.
Every demon below suddenly gained temporary resurrection authority.
Mammon blinked.
"What did you just do?"
Max lifted his hand.
"Gave them insurance."
He dropped it.
The swirling mass of gold reshaped instantly—thousands of blades, spears, mechanical constructs, and jagged shards forming in a split second.
Then it rained.
Screams erupted as the weapons fell like a meteor shower.
Hundreds died in seconds.
And then—
They respawned.
Confused.
Panicked.
Alive.
Mammon stared in disbelief.
"You—"
"Relax," Max said cheerfully. "Just demonstrating liquidity."
Mammon lunged, massive fist swinging down.
A barrier shimmered into existence.
The impact shook the Ring.
Max didn't budge.
"My turn."
He extended a finger.
"[Vermin Bane]."
A beam of pale energy struck Mammon square in the chest.
Mammon coughed.
"That tickled!"
Max tilted his head.
"Huh. Works better on insects."
Mammon roared and charged again.
Max stood from his throne.
The gold throne dissolved behind him.
"Alright. Let's not drag this out."
He raised his hand casually.
"[Reality Slash]."
The air bent.
A thin line of distortion carved through space itself.
Mammon froze mid-roar.
Then split cleanly in two.
Silence.
The halves collapsed.
Seconds later, Mammon respawned—furious, disoriented, but very much alive.
Max stretched his neck.
"I'll only kill you once. You're obnoxious, not abusive."
Mammon prepared to attack again—
But Max was already moving.
He snapped his fingers.
All fallen demons' memories rewrote.
Damage repaired.
Buildings restored.
Weapons vanished.
The gold storm condensed.
Every ounce of metal reformed—
Into coins.
Millions upon millions of identical coins.
They rained gently across the Ring like metallic snowfall.
Demons scrambled.
Fighting.
Grabbing.
Hoarding.
Chaos ignited instantly—not from destruction, but from distribution.
Mammon stared at the scene unfolding.
"What did you—"
"Liquidity," Max repeated. "You hoard too tightly. Let's see what happens when everyone has just enough."
The mechanical eye he had crafted hovered beside him.
He snapped again.
It vanished.
He stepped backward into thin air.
"Oh, and Mammon?"
The Sin looked up.
"Next time, charge admission for the show."
Max disappeared in a flicker of light, leaving behind a Ring drowning in coins and screaming with greed-fueled chaos.
As he traveled back toward Pride, he exhaled slowly.
"Okay… that was cathartic."
He paused mid-teleport.
"Oh. Right. Hotel under construction."
He altered course, reappearing near Pentagram City's renovation site.
The Hazbin Hotel stood half-finished, scaffolding clinging to its sides.
Max smiled softly.
"Soon."
He extended a hand and subtly reinforced structural weaknesses—just enough to prevent future accidents, nothing timeline-breaking.
Then he vanished again.
"Alright," he muttered to himself.
"Now I really should go home before I start punching other Sins for stress relief."