Max woke slowly, awareness returning long before his strength did.
Pain wasn't sharp anymore. It was worse than that — deep, dull, and everywhere, like his body had been filled with heavy stone instead of muscle. Every breath reminded him that he had pushed himself far past what this avatar could safely handle.
Another full day. At least. Probably two.
He stayed still for a moment, letting the sensation settle, mentally checking what still worked and what didn't. His regeneration was active, sluggish but steady, knitting fractures and stabilizing damaged tissue. No bleeding. No immediate failure. That was good.
Carefully, Max shifted beneath the sheets and pushed himself upright. The motion sent a ripple of protest through his ribs and spine, and he hissed softly through his teeth. He stopped, waited, then continued more slowly.
"Easy," he muttered to himself. "You're not dying. Just… embarrassingly mortal today."
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and planted his feet on the floor. For a split second, the room tilted. His knees threatened to buckle.
Max reached instinctively for his power — then stopped himself.
"Nope," he said quietly. "Not worth the lecture."
He steadied himself the old-fashioned way and stood. His balance recovered after a moment, but the effort left him breathing heavier than he liked.
After pulling on a clean shirt and carefully adjusting it around the bandages Vaggie had wrapped him in, Max summoned the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown.
The artifact appeared in his hand in a flash of shadow and gold before smoothly reshaping itself. The long staff compressed, refined, and simplified until it became a sleek black-and-gold walking cane. The five jewels remained at the top, smaller and muted, but still unmistakably powerful.
Max leaned his weight against it experimentally.
"There we go," he said, relieved. "That's more civilized."
He turned toward the mirror.
Not with sight.
Universal sense filled the space instead, constructing a perfect mental image of his reflection.
Bandages wrapped his torso and shoulders.
Fresh scars crossed his skin, some already fading, others stubbornly bright.
Hair slightly out of place.
Posture a little too stiff.
"…Damn," Max said quietly. "I really took a hit to my aesthetics."
He secured the dark covering over his missing eyes, adjusting it until it sat comfortably and didn't pull at the sensitive skin around the sockets.
Just as he finished, the door creaked open.
"Max?"
Octavia stepped inside, clutching his grimoire to her chest like it might bite her if she loosened her grip. Her feathers were neatly groomed, but her expression carried unmistakable worry.
"You're up," she said, relief slipping into her voice.
"Barely," Max replied with a faint smile.
She crossed the room quickly. "You're fine, you know. Even if the scars were permanent."
Before he could respond, she leaned up and kissed his cheek.
Max chuckled softly and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, careful not to pull her too close. "Thanks. Luckily, they won't be."
He hesitated, then added, "How's my owl doing? I remember everyone sleeping with me, but I woke up alone. Did I… do something?"
Octavia blinked, then snorted. "No, idiot. It's one in the afternoon. You slept in."
She tapped the grimoire with one claw. "And honestly? You deserved it. Especially after reading what's in here."
Max stiffened.
"…You read it?"
"Yes," she said firmly. "Charlie and I both did."
That was not comforting.
"We're not mad," Octavia continued. "But we're setting boundaries."
She met him eye to eye. "You are forbidden from using any magic that risks your life or causes you serious harm. No loopholes."
Max opened his mouth.
"No," she said sharply.
He closed it again.
"Loona and Bee are pissed," Octavia added. "Mostly because you lied about how you lost your arm."
Max sighed. "Yeah… I figured."
"I've gotten over it," she said. "But no more lies. We can't have you actually dying on us."
She grabbed his arm and gently but firmly began pulling him along.
Max exaggerated his steps slightly, acting as though he truly couldn't see. Letting universal sense bleed outward right now would raise questions he really didn't want to answer.
They entered the lobby.
Angel Dust was already there, slumped across a chair like gravity had personally offended him. He looked like he'd just finished a brutal shift.
"Hey Max, what ya do—" Angel froze. "Jesus Christ. What the hell happened to you? You look like shit."
"An accident," Max said calmly, easing himself into a chair with Octavia beside him. "I'll be fine in a couple days."
Angel tilted his head. "Why don't you just die and respawn? Faster recovery."
Max shook his head. "No thanks. Haven't died in Hell yet. Not planning to start."
He reached into his shadow and produced a small bottle filled with glowing yellow liquid, handing it to Angel.
Angel blinked. "What's this? Tryin' to bribe me?"
"No," Max said evenly. "I punched Valentino yesterday."
Angel stared.
"…You what?"
Max cracked his neck. "Yeah."
Angel burst out laughing. "Holy shit! That explains everything. He was losing his damn mind last night."
Angel examined the bottle. "So what is this?"
"Stamina boost," Max replied. "Repairs muscle strain, clears exhaustion. No side effects. An apology."
Angel raised a brow. "For what?"
"For making things harder for you," Max said. "Charlie tried to help. Valentino didn't take it well."
Angel shrugged and drank it. "Still an ass," he said. "But thanks."
Octavia cleared her throat. "Max, my dad wants to see you."
They said their goodbyes and stepped through a portal Octavia opened, arriving at the Goetia manor.
Stolas sat in the living room, tea in hand.
"Ah. Max. Octavia," he said. "Please, sit. We have much to discuss."
They did.
"Well," Stolas said, studying Max, "you've certainly seen better days."
"Dad—"
"It's fine," Max said gently, resting a hand on Octavia's shoulder. "Not a great joke. I can't see you, after all."
Stolas paused. "…Fair."
He set his tea down. "I owe you an apology. Gratitude toward sinners is not something I'm accustomed to."
He inhaled slowly. "Octavia told me what you did. At first, I didn't believe her. That level of magic shouldn't exist."
His gaze sharpened. "You're borrowing power from something far beyond Hell."
Max didn't deny it.
"You endured power no being here could withstand," Stolas continued. "And sacrificed greatly to save my daughter."
He bowed his head.
"Thank you."
Max smiled faintly. "Didn't think I'd hear that from you."
Stolas huffed. "Don't let it go to your head."
He straightened. "You have my blessing. For now."
Max nodded. "I'll take it."
Stolas folded his hands. "Now… we need to talk."
[Author: Thanks for staying and Merry Christmas and Happy holidays. I might most something in my other story before Christmas might not. But I will be back after. Enjoy]