Max and Poppi arrived at what was probably the biggest party in all of Gluttony.
Apparently, the other notification on his phone had been a circle-wide invitation from Bee herself.
And she had gone all out.
This wasn't just a party.
This was a kingdom-sized act of indulgence.
Music thundered through the air hard enough to make the ground vibrate. Lights pulsed in impossible colors. Massive floating rivers of glowing Beelzejuice twisted overhead like living streams, occasionally pouring themselves into empty cups whenever someone held one up.
Demons danced in the streets.
Hellhounds wrestled on rooftops.
Sinners were crowd-surfing across summoned hands made of candy.
Someone nearby was literally breathing confetti.
Max just stared.
"…She really did all this?"
Poppi had already grabbed a cup.
"Man," she said, taking a drink, "she went all out."
She took another sip—
Then her eyes widened.
"Oh, hell yeah."
She held up the cup.
"Tastes like cotton candy and honey."
She took a massive gulp.
"You wouldn't even know it's alcohol."
Max grabbed a cup too.
"Careful," he warned. "A normal sinner can only handle a cup or two."
Poppi waved him off and kept drinking.
Max took a drink himself.
Then another.
Then another.
Warmth hit his chest almost instantly.
"…Okay," he muttered.
"That hits fast."
He was just starting to enjoy the burn—
When he heard shouting.
"WHERE IS HE?!"
The voice was strangely familiar.
The crowd began parting as someone shoved through it aggressively.
Then Max saw him.
Vortex.
And judging by the fire in his eyes—
This was not a friendly visit.
"It's YOU!" Vortex shouted, pointing at Max.
He stormed forward.
"You caused me and Bee to break up!"
And then—
He threw a punch.
Or tried to.
Vortex stumbled mid-swing and nearly fell on his face.
Max simply stepped back, still holding his drink.
"…What are you talking about?"
Poppi quietly backed into the crowd, drink in hand.
Apparently deciding she wanted front-row seats.
Vortex growled.
"Bee dumped me!"
His fur bristled.
"And I smelled you at her place."
His eyes narrowed.
"You're the reason."
Max took another sip.
"…Damn."
He sighed.
"I underestimated Hellhound senses."
He lowered his drink slightly.
"Listen, Vortex. I have no problem with you."
Then he smirked.
"But if you try me…"
His eyes flashed slightly.
"I'll put you down like the dog you are."
Half joke.
Half threat.
Vortex looked even angrier.
"You sinners are nothing compared to Hellborn like me!"
He lunged again—
Max sidestepped.
Vortex missed.
And collapsed onto the pavement.
Max blinked.
"…You are drunk as hell."
He looked down at him.
"Well…"
He drained the rest of his Beelzejuice.
"If you want to fight…"
He tossed the cup aside.
"Let's fight."
Then—
The alcohol hit.
Hard.
The world tilted.
"…Crap."
He swayed.
"So this is what everyone feels after Beelzejuice…"
He stumbled slightly.
"No wonder Verosika keeps that stuff in a flask."
The crowd, sensing violence, instantly formed a ring around them.
Cheering.
Shouting.
Taking bets.
Vortex stood back up, wobbling, but clearly still ready to kill him.
Max sighed.
"Well…"
He cracked his neck.
"Wanted to test this anyway."
He whispered—
"Raphael."
His eyes flashed red.
"Take over."
Instantly—
Everything sharpened.
Movement.
Sound.
Timing.
His body moved with unnatural precision.
Vortex attacked first.
A flurry of drunken punches.
Raphael effortlessly guided Max aside—
Dodge.
Step.
Pivot.
Counter.
BAM.
One clean strike sent Vortex stumbling backward.
The crowd exploded.
"OHHHHH!"
Vortex looked stunned.
Then panicked.
"Shit!"
He pointed into the crowd.
"Come help me!"
A few other drunk Hellhounds jumped in.
The crowd immediately booed.
"Cowards!"
"Jumping him?!"
Poppi was in the back, somehow standing on a table now.
"GET HIM, MAX!"
Still holding her drink.
Max blinked once.
Raphael adapted instantly.
The Hellhounds rushed him—
And made a terrible mistake.
Max grabbed one by the tail.
Used him like a club.
And swung him into the others.
WHAM.
Yelps.
Bodies flying.
Vortex got flattened.
Two Hellhounds collided headfirst.
One spun into a drink fountain.
The crowd lost its mind.
"AGAIN!"
"DO IT AGAIN!"
Another came at Max.
Max ducked.
Tail grab.
Swing.
BONK.
Used him to hit Vortex again.
At that point—
The surviving Hellhounds yelped, panicked, and ran.
Actually ran.
Leaving Vortex sprawled in the street.
Raphael released control.
Max stumbled slightly as his own awareness returned.
"…That," Max said, breathing hard—
"…was fun."
He grabbed a fresh cup of Beelzejuice from a passing floating stream.
Raised it high.
"LET'S DRINK!"
The entire crowd roared.
And raised their cups with him.
"DRINK!"
"DRINK!"
"DRINK!"
Even Poppi screamed along.
And somewhere—
Far above the chaos—
Bee was probably watching.
And very likely amused.