Valletta
Knossos
Valletta Grede was not a happy woman.
In fact, as she limped through the dark, acidic runoff of the secret tunnels connecting Floor 18 to their artificial labyrinth, she decided she was practically murderous.
Everything had been going perfectly fine until two weeks ago. That was when she first heard that one of their meticulously planned monster experiments in that dumpster of a desert had been interrupted. And the scouts? The cowards, instead of dealing with the threat or at least gathering decent combat data, had come scurrying back with their tails between their legs like the wusses they were.
She had raved. She had ranted. She had demanded permission to flay the skin from their bones to make an example of them. But it all fell on deaf ears; they were Rudra's men, not hers, and their "punishment" was handled by their own God behind closed doors.
Then, just as she was busy violently "convincing" some good-for-nothing merchants to fund their cause, she was disturbed again.
A report came in. The same culprit who wiped out the desert experiment had entered Orario. Once again, her standard operational orders for a quiet assassination were overruled by the Gods. An immediate, high-scale search had ensued. It was sloppy. It was rushed.
And predictably, that wide, clumsy net had managed to snag the attention of the supposed Queen of Orario.
More like the Queen of Whores, Valletta sneered in her mind.
Instantly, as if the bitch was punishing her for the thought, an agonizing sting flared in her arms. Valletta flinched violently, bringing her hands together for comfort.
The pain was a bitter, suffocating reminder of her humiliating defeat. She hadn't just been beaten up there in the caverns of Floor 14; she had been systematically dismantled.
She thought she had been so clever, taunting that pathetic, stammering Dark Elf. She thought she was manipulating a broken toy. Instead, she had pressed the one button she shouldn't have, peeling away the coward to reveal a battle-crazed king. Once he had activated that cursed magic the fight was over. It was no longer a duel; it was a natural disaster given physical form. If she hadn't sacrificed a priceless, prototype explosive to blind him, her head would currently be rolling across the bedrock.
Oh, how she wished she could have a go at that elf on her own terms. To catch him with full preparation, force him down on his knees, extract every last drop of his blood while he screamed, and then make him play a real game of hide and seek with his own severed limbs.
Alas, that was just a dream now. Valletta was psychotic, but she wasn't stupid. There was a reason she had chosen Finn Deimne as her nemesis. The Braver was a thinker. A planner. You could manipulate a planner; you could break a smart man's spirit. But fighting overwhelming, logic-defying brute force and speed like Freya's elites? There was no fun in that. There was no control. Just terrifying violence.
She only hoped that the primary source of all her current woes would be successful in his attempts to secure the exiled monsters allegiance. If not for the promise of their overwhelming strength backing the Evilus cause, she would have abandoned this whole Orario scheme and gone to Altena by now, securing much-needed resources and fresh blood for herself.
As she navigated the labyrinthine gloom of Knossos, her thoughts drifted back to the initial cavern where the ambush had taken place.
The bodies. The absolute, humiliating carnage littered around the boy.
She had seen Dorian's neatly bisected corpse lying in a pool of his own blood. If Dorian was dead, then most of his band of misfit brutes and tamers had to be the shredded meat she'd stepped over to get there. Which meant the Gods had sent her in as "extra support" for an already ongoing ambush that had blown up in Rudra Familia's collective face.
Maybe I should report to Rudra about his Familia's utter uselessness, she mused, a cruel grimace twisting her lips. No, I don't care about his dead grunts.
She was focused entirely on demanding answers from her own God. Why the fuck was Thanatos playing along with Erebus's obsession over this boy? They were burning through critical resources in an effort to fight off that bitch Freya, only to clearly try—and fail—to capture him in the dungeon because the boy had a Level 5 shadow guard babysitting him.
She reached the heavy, reinforced adamantine doors leading to the Thanatos Familia's sanctum. Without an ounce of decorum or respect, she kicked the already opened doors with a resounding CLANG.
Inside, Thanatos was seated leisurely in his high-backed chair, speaking in hushed tones with Vito. They looked up as she stormed in, bringing the stench of dungeon blood, ash, and ozone with her.
"What the hell, Thanatos?!" Valletta yelled, spewing her frustration without a filter as she heavily leaned against the table. "Why do we even need that bastard?! That whore Freya has him guarded by the Black Knight! I had to run because that stammering wretch suddenly flipped his lid, turned into a feral, rabid dog, and went into a total frenzy!"
She slammed her cursed blade onto the wood, gouging the surface. "That's exactly why I told you I didn't want to deal with that bitch and her band of fanatics!"
-◈ -
Thanatos
He rested his chin on his knuckles, a serene, almost pleasantly warm smile resting on his pale features as he patiently listened to Valletta's rant.
She unpromptedly poured out every detail of what had just transpired in the dungeon, painting a vivid picture of the carnage and her subsequent narrow escape. To say he was impressed would be a massive understatement.
He knew what type of vain, covetous creature Freya was. She was a collector who never wasted anything she deemed hers, and she protected her interests with a suffocating, terrifying zeal. For such a woman to seemingly allow her new, highly-prized possession to explore the Dungeon solo on a silver platter—and right at the peak of daytime dungeon activity when the upper tunnels were crowded—had immediately struck Thanatos as dubious.
It reeked of a trap. But he hadn't objected to the ambush plan. Dorian and his men belonged to Rudra, not him. If the ambush party died? Well, that was perfectly acceptable too. They had met their end in the crucible of battle, moving on to their next great adventure. It was just a pity he wouldn't be there personally to guide their souls down, but he trusted his kin in Tenkai to do their jobs, however unenthusiastic they might be about processing them.
Valletta all but confirmed their deaths, describing Dorian's violently severed torso with a sneer of disgust. But... wait. Thanatos paused his internal musings, his smile holding steady. Hadn't he heard just an hour ago from Rudra that one of the sniveling tamers—Jura—had made it back from the vanguard alive? He would need to look into that discrepancy later.
Bringing his attention back to his Captain's shouting, he listened as she elaborated on her duel. The bastard Black Knight had managed to completely flip his personality like someone desperately in need of mental assistance, utilizing his magic that stripped away his hesitation and drove her off with terrifying, unrestrained violence.
The irony of the situation formed a highly amusing picture in Thanatos's mind—the quiet, socially inept dark elf turning into an absolute menace, chasing Valletta of all people away. But he kept his face perfectly composed, preserving the dignity of his favorite human assassin.
However, it was the end of her report that truly commanded his attention. A casual detail she threw out while complaining about her inability to reach the boy.
The boy healed his cheek.
Thanatos raised an eyebrow, the genial smile slipping just a fraction into something intensely analytical.
Valletta's blade wasn't a standard weapon. It was a cursed arm of the highest order, concocted in the dark workshops of Knossos by their resident Enigma. The anti-healing hemotoxin coated on that steel was designed to suppress cellular regeneration completely, even in the monstrously resilient denizens of the deep floors. It didn't just cut; it killed the flesh's memory of being whole.
For a graze made by that specific weapon to heal instantly in front of her eyes?
Something was deeply, fundamentally wrong here.
Finally running out of breath, Valletta stopped pacing. She leaned over the table, fixing him with her trademark contemptuous glare, looking like a feral, bloodied cat demanding an explanation.
"Why is he so important that Erebus wastes this amount of resources on him?!" she demanded, clutching her stinging shoulders. Her voice cracked like a whip in the stone chamber. "WHY?!"
She yelled as if she thought he had gone deaf. Thanatos couldn't help but think she looked rather cute giving him that death stare while battered.
But it was a profound question. And one he wasn't entirely sure he should answer.
Sensing his silence, Valletta narrowed her eyes, her hand dropping back toward the hilt of her sword in an unconscious gesture of threat. Thanatos remained completely unfazed.
He remembered the secret meeting. Erebus had confided in them—his fellow deities—about the boy. Specifically, about the terrifying, impossible anomaly he had seen when looking at the child.
To say Thanatos had been taken aback would be an understatement. Even for gods who routinely trafficked in death, deceit, and the breaking of mortal rules, Erebus's revelation was staggering. Though Apate and Alecto hadn't been terribly interested in the specifics, preferring to focus solely on the grand design of Orario's ruin, the rest of the dark pantheon certainly were.
Because of the sheer magnitude of that secret, Thanatos didn't see it as his place to share the boy's true nature. Not even with his own Captain. He would let Erebus, once successful in his persistent persuasion of their new "allies," answer her questions.
So, instead of replying to her demands, Thanatos stood up from his throne-like chair, gracefully smoothing the dark fabric of his robes.
"An excellent report, Valletta. Truly," he said, his tone sickeningly cheerful. "Take some time to rest and have the healers tend to your injuries. I believe I should go pay a visit to Rudra."
He stepped past her, moving toward the heavy adamantine doors she had just kicked wider.
"After all," Thanatos smiled, his eyes glinting with a morbid, genuine warmth, "I have a friend to whom I must offer my deepest, most heartfelt condolences."
-◈ -
Max
He stepped through the great threshold of Babel.
The actual sun hit him instantly—not a crystal approximation, but real, uncompromising daylight. The warmth washed over his face, accompanied by the layered, overwhelming noise of the city streets.
Max stopped at the base of the tower for a moment, letting the crowd flow around him, and simply stood in the light.
Two days. Twenty-one floors. A hidden super-villain base established, an Evilus cell decimated, a fortune made in monster drops, and a massive evolution in power.
Not bad, Max thought, tilting his face toward the sun, feeling the ache in his legs as a badge of honor. Not bad at all.
But the dive wasn't officially over until the logistics were settled. He ran through a mental checklist of his immediate priorities.
Reporting back to Folkvangr could wait. Emptying Kairu's massive inventory of monster stones at the Guild was high on the list, mostly because he needed the cash to fund his next objective: a massive, calorie-dense, obscenely expensive meal at the Hostess of Fertility. He had burned through his dry rations, and his body was practically screaming for actual food and a cold drink to celebrate his survival.
But first on the docket, before the Guild and before the meal, was a promise he needed to keep.
Max turned toward the familiar storefront of the Dian Cecht Familia pharmacy. As he pushed open the heavy glass door, the sharp, sterile scent of alchemical herbs hit him, cutting through the grime of the Dungeon he carried on his clothes.
The store was moderately busy with afternoon foot traffic, but Max spotted her immediately.
Airmid was standing behind the counter, organizing a shipment of antidotes with her usual crisp efficiency. When the bell chimed, she looked up with her standard, practiced sales smile—only for it to falter and instantly transform into genuine, unguarded relief when she recognized him.
She gave a small, quick wave, motioning him over to her counter.
"Mr. Max," Airmid greeted as he approached, her eyes scanning his combat gear. He was covered in monster ash and dungeon dust, but he was standing upright and breathing easily. "You're back. And in one piece."
"I told you not to worry, Junior Doctor," Max said, leaning against the counter with a tired but easy grin. "Though I admit, it was a close call a few times. I'm here to settle my tab."
Airmid tilted her head, her professional curiosity returning. She had given him three high-tier healing potions on the condition that he returned with four pristine pairs of Blue Papilio wings. Honestly, she had half-expected the Freya Familia accountants to come marching in to pay off his 75,000 Valis penalty fee.
Max unclipped the small storage bag from his belt and set it on the counter. He reached inside and carefully withdrew four items. He laid them out in a neat row in front of her.
Airmid opened the first one carefully. Inside, perfectly preserved, were the stained-glass wings of a Blue Papilio. No tears, no burn marks from magical crossfire.
She opened the second. Then the third. Then the fourth.
All pristine.
Airmid looked up at him, her eyes wide with undisguised surprise. "You actually did it. And the quality is... immaculate. Most adventurers ruin at least one pair trying to swat them out of the air."
"I'm a man of my word," Max said with a soft chuckle. "And I'm very careful where I point my magic." He leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Besides, I really didn't want to owe you seventy-five thousand Valis."
Airmid laughed—a bright, clear sound that drew the attention of a few other customers before she quickly cleared her throat and regained her professional composure. She carefully stored the drop items under the counter.
"Debt settled in full, Mr. Max," she said warmly. "So, how was the Under Resort? Did Floor 18 meet your expectations?"
"It was thrilling," Max replied, thinking of the false sky, the infant dragons, and the Evilus ambush. "Actually, it was a little too thrilling at times. You should join me down there at some point."
Airmid blinked, clearly taken aback.
"I mean it," Max continued, his smile turning empathetic. "I bet you get bored standing behind this counter all day, watching meathead adventurers ignore your advice and get themselves hurt despite your protests. A change of scenery might be nice."
Airmid's smile turned slightly melancholic. She looked down at the counter, her small hands smoothing an invisible wrinkle in her crisp white apron.
"It has been a while since I've been in the Dungeon," she admitted softly. "But... it's not that simple. My skills are too valuable to the Familia's operations. And when I do go, I need a strong party to surround me and keep me safe. I can heal them, but I can't fight. It makes me feel like..."
"A dead weight," Max finished gently.
Airmid looked up, surprised that he had named the exact feeling she hated. She nodded once.
Max understood perfectly. In a world defined by combat strength and levels, being the designated healer was a necessary but frustratingly passive role. He didn't push the issue, but he filed the conversation away for later.
"Well," Max said, smoothly changing the subject to lighten the mood. "Speaking of valuable things... I actually have a business question for you."
Airmid straightened, her sales-clerk persona snapping back into place. "Of course. What do you need?"
"Who gives a better bulk price for Papilio wings? Your familia or the Guild?"
Airmid paused. Any normal merchant would lie to secure the supplier for themselves, but her dedication to the truth and her role as a healer won out.
"The Guild," she answered honestly. "Since my Familia uses them directly for potion synthesis rather than resale, we cap our purchasing price unless you sign an exclusive, long-term contract with us. The Guild, however, acts as a broker for multiple Familias and apothecaries. They can auction them and offer a slightly higher market rate."
Max nodded, genuinely impressed by her integrity. In a town built on exploitation like Rivira, finding someone who gave you straight business advice at their own expense was rare.
"Thanks for the honesty, Airmid," Max said, giving her a respectful nod. "I'll go bother the Guild with the rest of my haul. But I'll be back later to buy more Mind Potions once I've turned these stones into actual money."
"I look forward to it," Airmid smiled, pleased.
Max turned to leave, but stopped just before the door. He unslung the padded potion case she had carefully packed for him yesterday and popped the clasp.
"Oh, and Airmid?" Max called out, catching her attention.
She looked over curiously.
Max opened the protected compartment and turned it so she could see inside.
Sitting snugly in their velvet padding were all three crimson vials.
For a split second, Max had the overwhelming urge to tell her the whole truth. To tell her that he didn't just go to Floor 18—that he'd bypassed it entirely, marched down to Floor 22, and engaged in a casual slaughter-fest with a Level 5 executive. He wanted to see her jaw hit the floor.
But he stopped himself. No, he thought, suppressing a grin. I want it to be a surprise. I want to see the look on a certain Light Elf's face when he smugly barges in to demand an update on my 'mediocre' progress, only to realize I blew past his expectations on day one.
"I didn't even have to open them," Max said instead, flashing a decidedly arrogant, Devilish smirk.
Airmid's jaw dropped slightly.
Before she could process the implication of a rookie clearing the Middle Floors without taking a single wound requiring a High Potion, Max offered a two-fingered salute, spun on his heel, and walked out into the sunlit streets of Orario.
He snickered as he made his way toward the Pantheon, already picturing Hedin's eye twitching.
-◈ -
Freya
High in her sanctum atop Babel Tower, Freya leaned casually against the cool glass of her window, gazing down at the sprawling labyrinth of Orario's streets.
Her hunger for unique souls, that usually drove her to constantly search the masses, had settled into a low, contented purr. Finding Max had sated an ache she hadn't fully realized was consuming her. Still, she maintained her habit of soul-gazing, letting her eyes drift lazily over the moving lights of the mortals below.
Suddenly, a brilliant, contradictory presence burst forth from the Dungeon entrance at the base of the tower.
Freya's breath caught, a genuine, giddy thrill sparking in her chest. He's back.
Her first instinct was deliciously selfish. Her eyes darted toward her bedside table, landing on the strange, purple-tinted contract parchment he had left for her. Her fingers literally twitched with the urge to channel her will into the parchment—to activate the magic, snap the tether, and pull him straight off the street and into her chambers this very second. She burned to extract every last detail of his foray into the Middle Floors. How deep did he go? How did his unique skill react to the environment? What were his plans now?
But she forced her hand to remain at her side.
As tempting as it was to yank him to her side, that scroll was his first real gift to her. It was a treasure, an anchor of trust he had placed directly into her hands, and she simply refused to waste its maiden use on a bout of impatience. She would save it for when it truly mattered.
Besides, she could easily summon Hogni here to deliver a full debriefing of Max's activities. After all, the Dark Elf had been shadowing him for two days. But the thought of sitting through Hogni's inevitably stuttering, socially anxious report sounded entirely unappealing. She wanted to hear the tale firsthand. She wanted to see the fire in Max's eyes as he recounted his adventure.
She could afford to wait. She was in a rather excellent mood, anyway.
Her executives had been remarkably productive in his absence. From their consistent efforts, Allen and the others managed to significantly cull the Evilus rats that had dared to poke around the city. The shadowy organization's attempts to sow unrest were bleeding out fast under the absolute violence of the Freya Familia.
It brought a fiercely smug smile to Freya's lips. Oh, the sheer, unreal amount of pride it gave her knowing she'd effectively made that flat-board Loki eat her own words. The trickster goddess was always boasting about the Loki Familia's "operational efficiency" and investigative prowess, only to be entirely outpaced when Freya's children finally decided to take the trash out themselves.
Bringing her attention back to the plaza below, Freya watched Max's soul move into the city.
She knew he wouldn't come straight up the tower just yet. Max was not a bird to be kept in a cage; he was driven by a ravenous, beautiful ambition. He was aiming for the absolute summit, and he would handle his affairs before bringing his spoils to her.
She let herself get completely lost in the shifting, hypnotic hues of his soul. In just two days, it had evolved. The pure, silver-blue core and the intoxicating, blood-red obsidian that wrapped around it were no longer just brilliant—they were denser. Wilder. The edges of his essence had been tempered by violence, effort, and raw survival.
It looked exactly like a beautiful, terrifying weapon that had just been successfully reforged in a crucible.
Freya's lips curved into a soft, wildly affectionate smile, resting her cheek against the glass.
I shall wait patiently, my little Devil. Take all the time you need to come home to me.
-◈ -
Max
Once he reached the Guild building, he was ready to execute the next phase of his plan to infuriate the elf.
As he entered the grand hall, he could see quite a few adventurers waiting in the standard exchange lines. But just like before, he bypassed the queue and headed straight for the specialized counter reserved for high-ranking Familias.
Rose Fannett was sitting there, sifting through paperwork.
Max approached and politely requested a private meeting. Even without Hedin's suffocating, high-voltage presence looming over his shoulder, she recognized him immediately from the day before and quickly arranged a private consultation booth. Max followed her inside.
Before leaving the dungeon, he had already tucked Kairu safely beneath his armor and mentally instructed the slime to shift everything collected up to Floor 7 into his storage bag, ensuring easy access to the mountain of low-level drop items and magic stones.
Once she sat across from him, looking prepared with her quill and ledger, Max simply upended his storage pouch onto the table between them.
Clatter-clack-rumble.
Rose's eyes widened like saucers as the sheer volume of loot poured out, creating a small mountain of gleaming stones, goblin fangs, kobold nails, war shadow's finger blades, clean moth wings, needle rabbit's tusks and pristine papilio wings.
While she stared, temporarily paralyzed by the quantity, Max reached into his pocket and pulled out three distinct, gold-speckled eggs, setting them gently to the side.
Rose quickly snapped out of her stupor and set to work, feverishly sorting and appraising the magic stones first, her hands a blur of practiced motion, followed by the various drop items. It took her quite a bit of time to get through everything. Once she finally finished the tallies, she wiped her brow and looked up to speak.
Max didn't say a word. He simply gestured to the three items he had set aside.
Rose's eyes dropped to them, and they widened to the extent Max briefly worried they might pop out of her skull.
"Three?!" she half-yelled, abandoning her professional inside-voice as she stared at the Jack Bird eggs. The only other words that managed to escape her mouth were a breathless, "How...?"
Max simply smirked. "I found a secret spot," he replied sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I forgot to buy a map for the Upper Floors, so I was just wandering around looking for the right path."
Rose looked at him, utterly exasperated. The professional facade cracked completely as she launched into a severe dressing down about his recklessness—wandering unmapped sections of the Dungeon as a solo diver, taking unnecessary risks, and relying purely on luck.
Max let her vent, nodding along and assuring her he would be much more careful next time. Once she finally ran out of steam, she picked up her quill with a heavy sigh.
"For your official records," she asked, slipping back into her advisor tone, "how deep did you venture on this dive?"
Max hesitated. He knew he should lie. He should say he hit Floor 12 and turned back. But considering all the effort he had put in, the sweat he'd shed, and the sheer self-satisfaction he is currently feeling, he couldn't bring himself to downplay the achievement.
"I reached Rivira," he stated simply.
Rose froze again, her quill snapping in her grip. Her stoic demeanor evaporated, replaced by genuine alarm. She opened her mouth, taking a deep breath to launch into what was undoubtedly going to be a massive tangent about safety protocols, suicidal rookies, and the sheer insanity of going to Floor 18 alone on day one.
Max cut her off before she could start.
"My Familia gave me clearance to dive to Floor 18," Max said, his tone shifting into something cold and no-nonsense. He was frankly fed up with the constant lectures from her. "And I reached it."
Rose paused, the reprimand dying on her lips. She looked at his hardened expression, remembered the crest on his chest and the terrifying elf who had accompanied him, and nodded in resignation.
"I see," she murmured. After a moment, she asked, "Will you be depositing the rest of your monster stones and drops with your Familia, then?"
Max nodded in agreement. "Yes."
Rose nodded briskly. She carefully scooped the sorted monster stones, drop items, and the three precious eggs into a secure Guild lockbox and carried them out of the room.
A few minutes later, she returned carrying several heavy leather pouches that clinked with the unmistakable sound of solid currency.
She set them down on the table with a heavy thud and pulled out her ledger.
"Your standard loot," Rose explained, pushing the first few pouches forward, "comes to a total of 1.7 million Valis after the Guild's taxes. However..." She pushed a separate, noticeably heavier set of pouches forward. "The three Jack Bird eggs yield exactly three million Valis. Due to their extraordinary rarity and classification, they are completely tax-exempt. You receive the full market payout."
She closed the ledger. "In total, Mr. Max, you have earned 4.7 million Valis from the first seven floors."
Max sat perfectly still.
He was honestly stunned. Even though he knew the Jack Bird eggs were worth a million each in theory, hearing the grand total—and actually seeing the physical pouches of wealth sitting in front of him—made it real. His first partial loot haul had just earned him enough money to live well.
More importantly, it shifted the power dynamic. Even if he eventually had to pay Freya back for the Grimoire—according to Hedin's transactional logic—it wouldn't take decades of grinding. It would just take a few dozen Jack Birds.
That thought brought him profound satisfaction.
Max nodded, sweeping the Valis pouches off the table and seamlessly depositing them into his storage pouch. He gave Rose a respectful, thankful look, rose from his chair, and offered a polite nod.
"Thank you, Ms. Fannett. Have a good evening."
With his pockets much heavier than they had been that morning, Max made his way out of the Pantheon, setting his sights on his next destination: The Hostess of Fertility.
--> Devil in a Dungeon <--
AN:
One part of loot collection is done. I'm sure Max is a happy man with how much he got from first 7 floors. Any guesses on how much he would get from rest of his dive?
Aside from that, I don't remember if it was mentioned in canon about Jack Bird Eggs, but I don't remember anyone actually exchanging any, maybe someone did in Manga? But for the story, they are tax exempt.
And we also see the 1st pov from Evilus side especially the amount of casualties they suffered with Valletta being bitter while Thanatos was nonchalant to her dismay. So some recognition for everything Allen did, huh.
Also, Freya is back! We will see more of her pov as Max finally meets her in Folkvangr next chap. And the next few chaps are gonna be fun to write, ;).
The offer from last chap still stands: For anyone who guesses 1 unique aspect correctly, I will give a shout out and they would get a chance to add 1 thing to the story - may it be a character, event or anything that doesn't mess too much with the plot. Unique aspect means beyond the stat numbers.
As always, don't forget to share your thoughts on the story in a review/comment.
If you'd like to read 7 chapters ahead, support my work, or commission a story idea, visit p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m/b3smash.
Please note that the chapters are early access only, they will be eventually released here as well.
Next update will be on Friday.
Ben, Out.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.