Chương 13: Chapter Thirteen: Gnoll and Void

X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X Hyena Werks, A proud Orario Company. DanmachiXDnD Nonhuman semi SI X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X Author notes: So, as per the poll that I had on some sites, I am going to go with the 'Max does it himself' option, but keep the scut work vague to save time. Also…

The title of this chapter was what I was originally planning on naming this fic, but someone had already beat me to the bunch with their short web comic X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X Chapter Thirteen: Gnoll and Void X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X Staring bug-eyed down at the page I was just handed, I looked back up at the quaking pink haired human girl who was all but cowering beneath her desk at the sight of me.

"Is this real?!" All she did was yelp and duck even lower, rapidly nodding her head as she did so. Turning back to the paper, the number sitting in big bold letters at the bottom stared back out at me with almost as many zeros as I had spots. The base price for the work wasn't even all that unreasonable! It was the endless fees tacked on at the end that ballooned the quote way out of any reasonable proportion. Fee for working with a client for the first time? One million valis.

Hazard pay for working in a black zone? Ten million. Fee for hiring bomb detection and defusal experts even though I've already cleared the building? Another Twenty million. The list went on and on until those bastards wanted to charge me a hundred million valis just for a renovation. Ripping the document in half and crumbling up the remains earned me another squeak of terror from the guild employee.

"Tell them to forget it, I'm no longer interested in working with Vishvakarma Construction in any capacity." Turning on my heels, I stomped out of the guild hall with shoulders hunched and paws balled. Fine then, I'll just do the bloody work myself. How hard could it be? X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X Finally, all was right with the world. For I was now officially broke once again. I mean, what adventurer worth their salt is actually wealthy in any liquid capacity?

Sure, they might be worth a nation or twos' GDP in mythical items and ancient artifacts, but having just the gold itself sitting around and doing nothing? Ludicrous. Not to mention Max should not be trusted with any amount of material wealth for any extended amount of time. Back home, the party had unanimously agreed that my share of wealth needed to be held in trust, lest Max try to buy an entire warehouse worth of military grade residuum dust just so he could see how big of a mountain he could blow up with it.

Again. Thankfully, I've shed such mortal trifles, and now have only a few gold coins mixed in with some pocket lint to my name. In return, I had an entire Home Depot's worth of construction material surrounding me. Pallets of planks, mundane metal ingots, planes of glass, along with a few bags of concrete and mortar were all piled up haphazardly to the side of the road in front of my house.

So there I stood, staring up at the spooky-ass haunted mansion that I called my home with arms akimbo and Snarf sitting dutifully at my side. A cloth bandana over my muzzle and goggles over my eyes. With a vicious ear to fluffy ear'd grin under my mask, I strolled into the cavernous storage bay and looked at the rotted, mold covered ceiling a couple of stories above my head. Giddy excitement built in my chest as I pulled a vial of luminescent orange liquid from my belt and downed its contents in a single gulp.

Working my tongue for a moment, I was surprised how… minty the potion tasted. It was like I just took a big swig of liquid toothpaste. Must have been from the Frost Lichen that made up the base of it. Which was leagues better than having to taste what the active ingredient was in a potion of Fire Giant Strength. Bleh. Slotting the empty vial back into its holster, I could feel the magic of the potion leaching out into my body, mixing in with the natural streams of mana that flowed through my veins.

As the liquid magic coursed through my belly, I could feel pure, unadulterated Strength in the most visceral sense of the word flooding my very being. My muscles strained, my bones creaked, and my grin sharpened. Now this was power. I felt invincible, god-like even! I just knew in the very core of my being that I could now do whatever the fuck I wanted. I could bench-press a truck, toss a car like a shot put, or even just punch a hole straight through the foot-thick blocks of marble that made up my home.

Sure, I'd probably break every single bone in my paw if I tried, but the point still stands that I could if I wanted to. But I wasn't done. Clasping my paws together to help me focus, I took a chunk of mana from my belly, the largest amount of magic I've ever tried to directly manipulate since arriving here in Genkai, and forced it together in the patterns required for what I needed- no, what I demanded from my mana.

With a final twist of my will, the Enlarge spell came into being with a flash of light, and an echoing, reverberating pulse that flowed through my body like a ripple across water. And then I started growing. And growing. And growing. Until I turned and looked out the window slightly below my eye level… And saw the street a full story below. Snarf was looking up at me with his head cocked, now only a bit bigger than a Bichon Frise.

A laugh bubbled up from deep in my belly- which nearly instantly grew into a booming howl that rattled the ceiling and shook the stones.

"Come on, Snarf! Let's get to breakin' shit!" Rearing down, I clenched my paw into a tight fist, and rose with the inevitably of a wizard casting Fireball first thing into an encounter—Extremely loud, incredibly impulsive, and most importantly- neither of us could give a single fuck about how small the room was. With a crash that I'm sure they heard all the way in Melen, the roof disintegrated under the force of my Fire Giant Strength enhanced fist.

Rotted chunks of wood and clay shingles were sent flying everywhere like I had just detonated a medieval frag grenade. The debris falling like rain across the district. Like a miniature kaiju in a world that was very suddenly much too small to contain it, I tore through the building with fists flying–laughing uproariously all the while as the walls shuddered with every step, and the earth shook with every punch. Now this is how you demo a house!

PC Style~ My delighted giggles rang out like a backfiring car, and hit with the staccato thumps of a heavy machine gun as wood and nails and old stone was sent flying under every blow. Snarf was doing his part too! Kinda… through the whirlwind of debris, I could catch brief flashes of him ineffectively chewing on support beams or half-heartedly clawing at walls. I guess without direct control, he loses much of his effectiveness, and defaults to just copying my behavior.

Or he is honestly giving this his best effort, and is just dumb. But as all good things do- my time as a giant came to an end when the cost to maintain my size just became too much to bear. Already a headache was starting to bloom behind my eyes, and the magic rushing through my veins felt stretched thin, like a rubber band fraying before it snaps. I released the spell, and without pomp or fanfare- I shrunk back down to my original size, the world reverting back from being small and toy-like to boring normality.

Thankfully, the spell acted the same here as it did in the game, and my clothes survived both transformations unharmed, save for a few scuffs and cuts from wooden splinters. Flashing everyone in Genkai my under-fluffies whenever I wanted to Gnoll–smash! some assholes would be pretty embarrassing. Still wouldn't have stopped me from doing it, being able to transform into a fourteen foot tall monster on command was way too cool to not use, but I'd probably find it hard to look anyone in the eyes afterwards.

Nonetheless, the work of days, if not weeks was finished within a couple of minutes, and with only moderate amounts of property damage to the surrounding buildings to boot! Which is a fantastic result for Max, who's problem solving skills usually begin and end with massive amounts of ordnance. I don't think my DM ever forgave me for solving his painstakingly crafted mini-quest of putting out a raging forest fire threatening Whitestone…

By detonating an obscenely large fuel-air bomb made of several barrels of Alchemist fire and enriched residuum over the forest to suck up all the oxygen. I mean, s ure –the explosion may have shattered every window in the city facing the south-eastern direction, flattened a good chunk of valuable forest, and absolutely ruined my DM's plans for a whole questline of hunting down elementals and enlisting their help… But it worked.

That noble who had the balls to bitch about my methods to the duke should have really learned not to argue with results. Or with gnolls who may or may not have made multiple of such devices on the off chance the first one failed to snuff out the fire. Because if first you don't succeed, just make a bigger explosion. Now then, with the demo work done, I can get to work re-doing the workshop floor so I can get some machinery set up to help build the rest of the house. But first! -"Snarf!

Get over here, I need to borrow your butt for a second!" X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X As Loki and her cute whittle kohai drew closer to the site of the reported explosions, the unearthly sound that had been filling the air and haunting their steps ever since they entered Hephie-san's old stomping grounds grew steadily louder. Going from a faint hum at the edge of her hearing to an all-encompassing whine that defied description.

The closest thing she could compare it to was the buzz of a mosquito flying past her ear, but even that analogy didn't quite describe it. Rounding a corner, Loki and her two chaperons for the day- Bete and Riveria, were met by the source of the mysterious noise–Max's golem monster. The cat-like machine looked down-right depressed, glaring at the stone between its paws with its 'ears' splayed backwards in obvious shame.

Its tail was stuck into the back of some sort of spinning metal cauldron held aloft on a wooden stand. With one mystery solved, Loki strived to solve the new one presented to her by sticking her head into the spinning thingy to see what it was doing. The artificial creature barely spared the goddess a passing glance as she pranced up to look inside, only to see a thick slurry of concrete being rotated around and around. Aha! It was some sort of… concrete spinner?

Yet another mystery solved by Orario's greatest detective! Why would someone want to use a magic golem to spin concrete? Well, She'd leave that mystery for the beat guards to answer. The sound of nails on stone caused Loki to look up to see Max step out from one of the side doors of his new building. A shovel stained grey propped on his shoulder, and a leveling plane in his other paw.

Flecks of dried concrete were sprinkled throughout his spotted fur, and a plain mask hid the lower half of his face; Which did nothing to conceal the flash of surprise in those big, shockingly expressive chocolate brown eyes of his. Ya' know… you'd expect something so inhuman looking to be hard to get a good read on, but the loveable goof was practically an open book with how easy it was to see what was going on in between those two dinner plates he called ears.

The hulking creature perked up at the sight of her and her familia, his ears splaying back in confusion before flashing forward in recognition. A half-moment later his eyes crinkled from that friendly, yet unnervingly toothy smile of his which was mostly concealed beneath the mask as he plodded over with a lumbering, swaying gait that caused his head to bob back and forth with every step.

And while it was currently hidden by the gnolls bulk, Loki had no doubt that his tail was doing that adorable little 'happy curl' it did whenever he saw something that excited him. Which was mostly food, but hilariously enough Max didn't seem to have any clue how much his tail gave away his thoughts and feelings. Loki had already forced her familia to take a vow of silence on the subject, and was planning on bringing it up at the next Denatus to see if she couldn't get her fellow gods on board.

Max must never know just how… demonstrative he is unconsciously. Or at least, not until she could get his fluffy butt in a chair and fleece him for all he's worth in a game of cards or two. The hyena-man swayed to a stop before the goddess, sharing a companionable nod with her two escorts as he tugged his mask down to around his neck before looking down at her.

"Hey folks. If you're here for the housewarming party, I'm afraid you're a bit early, 'cause I still have some spring cleaning to take care of." More of those strange turns of phrases of his. While it's not uncommon for their children to pick up some of the lingo thrown around by gods, it's always obvious how little grasp they have of the subtleties or nuances of whatever they are parroting. But Max on the other hand… he speaks like a damn Tenkai native sometimes.

Another strange, misshapen puzzle piece that makes up the creature known as Max Maddic. Filing away the thought for later analysis, Loki let her signature vulpine grin slide over her face as she stared back up at the gnoll.

"While I'm always down for a party Max, I'm afraid we're here on business today. A few folks reported hearing multiple explosions coming from the abandoned district. We volunteered to come over and make sure you hadn't blown yourself Tenkai-high tripping over some old Evilus trap." Max blew out a derversive snort, as if the mere idea that there was any danger in restoring a building in an Evilus-touched district was insulting.

"Well then I guess you wasted your time, friends. That was just me doing a bit of… enthusiastic renovation." He gestured to the shovel still on his shoulder.

"But now the fun's over, and I'm stuck doing the scut work. I still need to refloor the whole building, redo the supports, check the walls to see if any of the stones need to be replaced, give the basement a look over to make sure the foundation is still good- I'll probably be stuck on this for a good while. Maybe even up to a full week." Letting her eyes drift over to look past the gnolls shoulder, Loki gave the building Max won a good look.

Even as dilapidated as it was, at three whole stories tall it towered over much of the surrounding district. Sitting on what was once prime real estate, even just the location itself would have been worth millions back in Orario's heyday. Now, Loki may not be a goddess of crafting or any somesuch, but she does know how much time and money goes into construction projects like this- no one, save perhaps Freya and the Guild itself has forked over more gold to that bastard Vishvakarma than her.

The Twighlight Manor didn't build itself, that's for sure. So seeing the warehouse herself, and the condition it's in, she'd estimate that it'd take one of Vishvakarma Construction's teams around a month to get it back to a habitable state. And that's using one of their standard teams, made up of level ones and twos. Obviously, springing for one of their elite teams made of level threes and above would expedite the process, but even they wouldn't have been able to do it in just a week.

Loki had to fight tooth and nail to keep a delighted smirk from blooming on her face, already imagining what crazy nonsense Max was about to unleash on the world the second they all took their eyes off him. Now… How could she push this just a bit further?

"A whole week? Oh for Tenkai's sake Max, just hire that stingy bastard to do the work for ya'! They'd get it done in a couple of days. I thought you were getting started on my order, we have an expedition coming up in a few months–so I need to know if my kids are gonna' have those Hold-Em-Alls in time or not!" Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Loki took great delight in the annoyed flinch mated to a fanged scowl that flashed over his muzzle.

The hissed correction that followed was just music to the chaos god's ears." Bags of Holding! - and… soonish." The annoyance quickly fled, replaced by a sheepish refusal to meet her eyes.

"Each bag'd probably take a couple of days to make; Maybe I could knock them out one a day if I really locked in and did nothing but craft em'. But honestly? Fuck that noise, I'd go crazy if I had to sweatshop out a bunch of designer messenger bags. we'll call that option 'expedited delivery' with a price tag to match. So I guess if you want them now, I'd be able to give you a few in a week, or I could hold off, and ship the full order in a couple months." Only a few days for a powerful enchanted item?

Oh Max, will you ever realize how insane whatever rules you operate under are? Most magical items take months to make even a simple enchantment, and even then, only the absolute best of an already select group of individuals who bear the mystery ability can produce items of any real worth in such a time frame. The only exceptions to this rule are history-defining Legends with a capital 'L' like the Crozzo family, or the gods themselves.

"I'll tell you what, how about I pay you for a rush order of… Let's say five bags as soon as you're done working on the house, and the rest I'll take when they're ready." She said, tapping a finger to her chin while carefully watching the gnoll's reaction out of the corner of her eye. The beast-like man only shrugged indifferently at the near impossible task she gave him. His large, bulging eyes staring off over her shoulder as he thought aloud.

"... Alright. Give me like, a week or so and I'll get you the first five. Though, I'm warning you now-I still haven't decided how much I'm gonna' charge for them, but it'll be a premium for the rush work." To that, Loki only smiled.

"I don't know if you noticed, Max, but the Loki familia isn't exactly strapped for cash. Name your price, and we'll pay it… Provided it's not some absurd number, and that those Bags of Carrying work as advertised." Loki drank in the frustration clear on his face like it was a fine wine as the hyena-man glared at her with a withering look.

"You aren't nearly as funny as you think you are."

"Are you kidding me?" She asked, her smile growing wide enough to wrinkle her eyes just the way she likes it, knowing how much this smug look she has perfected over the eons can drive even the most patient of beings up the fuckin' wall. Fearlessly throwing up an elbow, she let herself fall onto his arm until she was leaning on him like they were old pals.

"I'm hilarious. That poser Thalia wishes she is as funny as I a-whoa." Pausing in shock, Loki finally registered a sensation she should have the second she leaned against him. His fur was sinfully soft. On the surface, it looked coarse and bristely; But just underneath that was a dense, downy undercoat that was thick enough to bury her whole hand into. Struck speechless, she ran a hand over his arm, marveling at the feeling of Max's flawless pelt flowing beneath her fingers.

It was the kind of fur that many kings and even gods would kill to get a coat made of.

"Uh… Can I help you?" Shaken from her stupor, she looked up to meet Max's glistening eyes staring down at her, utterly stupefied at her sudden change in demeanor. Feeling her smile coming back in full force, Loki turned to Riveria.

"Rivi-chan, come over here! You have got to feel Max's fur! It's even softer than Bete's ears right after a bath!" The elf gamely ignored the werewolf's indignant "hey!" As she dutifully drifted over on light feet. Only her extensive experience in reading her executive let Loki catch the slight widening of her eyes as she touched Max's other arm.

"Oh! It's even softer than carbuncle fur! What's your secret, Max? I know Anakitty is always complaining about bad fur days."

"Alright-alright!" Max yelled as he shoved them both away. Loki stumbled back with a laugh, while the level six allowed herself to be moved a few steps–even if she could have resisted with ease. The only hint to her feelings was the smallest upturn of her lips.

"Yes! My fur is luxurious, I shampoo and condition it every day with only the rarest and most exotic of regents. Do you think a coat this voluminous and fluffy just grows itself!? But only my mama or a possible future mate can pet me like that!"

"Do you really?" Loki snorted, detecting the lie and not believing for a second that Max did more than roll out of bed every morning.

"Nope." He said, instantly and unashamedly while propping one arm on his hip as he ran his other paw through his luscious mohawk; Snootily pointing his nose to the sky as he did so.

"I'm just naturally fabulous." X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X Three days later. The lathe wobbled precariously as it revved up to speed with an electronic whine that sounded more like the last gasping wheeze of a mouse being slowly run over by a road roller than any piece of respectable industrial equipment. It was dangerous. It was shoddily made. It was one loose bolt away from turning into a fragmentation grenade and exploding in my face. But it worked.

Adjusting the cutting tool inward with a steady paw, I followed the contour of the piece with one smooth, continuous movement. The gentle arc of the piece came into being with every deliberate pass. Happy with my work, I turned to look down on the disponent Snarf beside me and pantomimed slashing at my neck with a paw. The lathe slowed to rattling idle, before cutting out entirely with a high-pitched whine when I stepped on the brake.

Pulling off the now completed baluster, I lightly tossed it behind me where it fell into a pile of its fellows with a series of cascading clunks.

"Alright, buddy. I think that's the last of em', you can go take a break for the night." I said as I yanked his tail out from the mana motor powering the lathe. Snarf's tail lashed behind him with an annoyed flick as he shot me a look of pure disdain. Rising to his paws with what little dignity my questionably sapient mobile generator had left, the mech stalked off to go sulk in his usual spot in the corner of the room.

Huffing at my drama queen of a steel defender's antics, I unlatched the motor itself from the lathe and padded over my freshly refloored workshop to place it on my workbench. It was my clever solution to my lack of time, and more importantly–my lack of funds. Rather than making a bunch of fully functional machines, all I had to do was slap together the bare bones of them, and then make the motor that drove said machines interchangeable.

My Workshop was already getting crowded with devices to help speed up the construction of my house. Just on my way to the workbench, I passed the skeletal, misshapen forms of a band saw, a circular saw, and my belt sander. All of it was utter trash, mind you. And the first thing I was gonna do the second I was done with the renovations was tear all this shit down and cannibalize them for raw materials.

It was starting to look like some Rust players' base in here, with machines being held together with nothing but spit, duct tape, and spite. If an OSHA inspector were to ever lay eyes upon monstrous creations I had Frankenstein'd together in the dead of a stormy night, they'd instantly start melting like a non-believer bearing witness to the awesome power of the Ark of the Covenant. Slapping the motor down onto the table, a pile of sawdust was sent flying into a cloud of dust that I had to cough my way out of.

Brushing away the loose particles from my fur, I started pulling off all my PPE with a tired, yet satisfied sigh. Doing this all myself ended up being the right call. There was nothing more grounding nor therapeutic than manual labour… Even if much of that manual labour was done either using magic or my robotic minion companion. Need to move some pallets of planks to the second floor? Slap Levitate on it and watch em' float up to where it's needed. Riveting in the bolts for the support beams?

Heat Metal and good ol' elbow grease sinks them in clean. Need to hammer some nails into a hard to reach place? Mage Hand has my back. Need to push that giant stone block into place? Make the robot do it. If only I had access to higher level spells like Fabricate or Stone Shape, then this whole project would have taken an afternoon at most. Though, finishing all the boring stuff and getting started on the finishing touches in only three days was nothing to scoff at either.

All that was left to do was tile the roof and work in my own artistic flare here and there and my storefront would be complete. Oh, and all the furniture still needs to be ordered, because there's no way I'm making that all by hand. But as I currently have fuck and all to my name, I think I'm gonna have to live the 'extreme poverty bachelor' life for a while; Does a man really need anything more than a wrinkled futon and one singular plate to his name to be happy?

Stepping out into the settling twilight, I took a deep breath in to savor the first taste of fresh air I've had for a good few hours before trundling off back towards the city proper; Confident that Snarf could protect the house for the night. The clicks of my nails reflected off the abandoned buildings around me with a haunting, echoing reverb. Left with nothing but my own thoughts for company, I reflected back over the last few days.

Deciding to do the work myself definitely ended up being the right call, but for an entirely unexpected reason. Long days of doing nothing but hard physical labour has been good for me, and good for Max. No complicated navigation of unknown political waters, no convoluted public showdowns–just me, my calloused paw pads, and my own thoughts. I think I've grown more used to this body in these short few days then the entirety of the week before.

I no longer notice my muzzle taking up practically half of my vision unless I focus on it. I no longer get startled when I see my own monstrous, furry arm unconsciously come up into view to complete some task. And very rarely do I feel like I'm looking through a window at a stranger whenever I catch a glimpse of my own reflection in puddles or shop windows. Now I just see the gnoll Maedmux Maddic. I just see myself. The people of Orario have also grown more used to my presence.

The focused, hostile glares I received have simmered down to only the occasional glare by particularly haggard looking adventurers. It seems the novelty of a non-humanoid sapient has more or less dried up, and shopkeepers barely give me a second look when I walk into their stores nowadays. Unfortunately, there is one arena where my existence is still all the rage, to my great annoyance–and that is amongst the gods.

Apparently, proving that I was capable of doing some of the crazy shit I had spoken about over the week I was with Loki had turned me into a hot commodity. Every day I was relieving gifts of food or rare materials delivered to my room at The Hostess with the hope I'd be more receptive to whatever follow up they have planned. Or otherwise invitations to speak with them directly in whatever palace or mansion they live out of.

The simply curious or those genuinely seeking someone who aligned with their Divine Aspect could be turned away with a polite explanation that I was not currently seeking a familia. Those ones I had mentally earmarked as potential business partners or even allies. On the more annoying end of the spectrum were the pushy and spoiled gods. The ones that didn't have 'no' in their vocabulary. Or at least, they think 'no' just meant that whatever deal they were offering wasn't currently good enough.

These ones I was able to shut down with either logic, simply asking them 'what could you offer me that Loki couldn't?', or otherwise righteous anger was enough to send them scampering back to their holes. Apparently, being a seven foot tall monster with a metal sabertooth tiger wrapped protectively around their legs was a pretty good deterrent. But the worst of the lot were the obsessed ones. Or at least, one specific one. Mother fucking Apollo has come on to me. X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X Two days ago.

The sounds of a busy restaurant filled the air, surrounding me with the cheerful clinking of tableware and animated conversation. I was back at my usual place at The Hostess's bar, a stack of empty plates on one side, and a dangerously empty mug of mead on the other. Before me, the dismantled remains of a messenger bag lay sprawled across the countertop.

With a hooked needle in one paw, I was painstakingly, meticulously sewing plates of leather armor made of Infant Dragon hide in between the cloth of what would soon be a Bag of Holding. I haven't even started on working in the enchantments yet, because it would take just one little tear in the wrong place that breaks the long chain of enchantments making up a Bag of Holding's storage matrix, and the whole thing could collapse into a portal to…

Well, actually I don't know what would happen if a bag is damaged or combined with another one here. Normally, the enchantment would either unravel in the event of damage, unfolding until it reached max criticality; Or else the overlapping dimensional spaces would kinda… reach an integer overflow of sorts, breaking the magical containment field and collapsing into a portal to the Astral Plane. But I have no idea if this realm has any extraplanar dimensions similar to the Infinite Realms.

Either way, a damaged Bag would mean nothing good for whoever's hip it's currently sitting against. And considering that these bags are gonna be used by shonen protagonist level fighters, there is a good chance that these things are going to be put in harm's way quite often, hence the up-armored interior. My bag still works fine, so it must be connected to something. Maybe the link to Exandria's Astral Plane is still intact?

If so, that could be a possible route back to the Infinite Realms, if I ever wished to return for some ungodly reason. Though, other than perhaps poking my head in to see if I could get my paws on any rare regents, there's nothing really over there that isn't already present here in abundance. I mean, I'm literally standing on a rare ingredient farm that grows raw materials at a rate that should be impossible, while also surrounded by lunatics willing to go down there and get the stuff I need all for a modest fee.

What more could a stark-raving mad inventor want? Regardless, exactly where my bag currently leads is a mystery I'll have to investigate later, because right now I have work to do. Satisfied with my work, I pulled out a spool of gold wire I bought from a jeweler from my own bag. Unraveling a forearm's length out and breaking it free with a quick snap of my teeth, I poked one end through the loop of a curved carpenter needle and got to work sewing it in along the seams of the bag.

Platinum would have been better for this kind of work, and obviously mithril would have been best, but in a pinch gold works just fine. It's not like Loki's going to know the difference. The gold, or any other magically conductive metal, would define the boundary of the enchantment, while also acting as the anchor for the magic itself. I ignored the sideways stares I was getting from my fellow bar mates as I worked in the wire beneath the stitching.

Mia wordlessly replaced my empty mug with a fresh one; Glistening with condensation and a healthy foam head. Giving the brusque bartender a thankful nod, I returned to my work. Painstakingly threading it through every last nook and cranny.

With my tongue unconsciously poking out to the side of my mouth, I was halfway done when suddenly–the door to the tavern slammed open with a crash; Startling me enough to accidentally jerk my paw, ripping out a good chunk of the gold I just laid, outing me more than an half of hour of labour. The Hostess was instantly silenced as a brunette haired man with piercing blue eyes and a chin sharp enough to cut diamonds marched in with sure steps.

Wearing a razor sharp black suit with red accents, the man looked less like a fantasy adventurer and more like an enforcer of a futuristic dystopian government. The second his eyes landed on me, his gaze grew even more focused. He waved at someone still outside, and in strode a man with the most punchable face in the multiverse. With his lips drawn up in a confident smirk, the man walked in as if the world itself should be the one moving beneath his feet to save him the effort of moving.

A half-slung toga hugged his upper thighs, and a laurel made of real leaves circled his obnoxiously brilliant blond hair. A crimson cloak clasped at his neck with a fist-sized chunk of amber covered most of the left side of his body. The man's eyes locked with my own the second he strutted through the door.

With a dramatic swish that would even had Professor Snape himself begrudgingly giving the performance a passing grade, he threw his cloak over his shoulder to rest at his back as the smirk on his lips grew into something distinctly lecherous. Sashaying through the crowded room towards me like it was his own red carpet debut, the man's eyes hungrily ran across my body, unashamedly eyeing me up like a piece of meat.

"Oh, honey~ -" He purred as he swayed to a stop, one hand propped on his quirked out hip while his other hand rubbed his chin as if he was an art critic admiring a masterpiece.

"-You're even more magnificent in person, my dear Max! Normally, my tastes lie more towards the beautiful and serene; But ever since I watched you brutally pound all that metal into its place the other day, well, I've had… Ideas ~." He then leaned back on his heels, dramatically sighing as he held the back of his hand to his forehead.

"There are only so many times you can have gorgeous women, or handsome men before you can't help but long for more. And you Max! -" Suddenly reaching out, he ran a salacious hand up the fur of my bicep, his grin growing all the wider.

"-Are definitely capable of giving me more. So how about it, my very big and very furry friend? Would you like to make this god of the sun and song sing?"

"Uhhh-" Staring at the lunatic who just very clearly asked me to join his harem in front of the entire restaurant in open mouthed shock, I couldn't help but throw a furtive glance around. Either looking for the hidden camera team and the obnoxious host about to jump out and yell 'prank'; Or looking for help–I'm not sure which.

When it became apparent that no, this was not a prank and no help was forthcoming from the crowd of snickering adventures, I slowly looked back at the awaiting god, who didn't even have the good sense to give me his damned name. His dress was clearly Greek, and they only have one god of the sun, so I suppose this must be Apollo-but… Isn't he supposed to be more dignified? Like, a warrior-poet type? So why is this guy so weak and frail? And horny? Well, ok-that last one kinda' tracks with what I know of Greek gods.

A complex brew of emotions were rolling in my belly, chief amongst them being embarrassment and anger. Embarrassment, for obvious reasons–I kinda wanted the world to just open up and swallow me whole right now, and if that hole led directly to the heart of the Dungeon? Then so be it; Even certain death would be better than whatever clusterfuck just pranced its way into my life.

The anger came partly from my ruined work, but mostly from Max's default state of being, in which anything that made him uncomfortable inspired violence in some form. Whether that just be laying the offender flat with a straight right hook or full blown murder depending entirely on the identity of the offender. But buried beneath the swirling torrent of rage and humiliation lay a third feeling… and that one was weirdly enough flattery.

In neither of my lives have I had someone come on so strongly before, and in a bizarre, strange way it made me feel a bit warm and fuzzy inside. So rather than blowing the god back the way he came from with Boom Stick, or otherwise knocking his ass into the next era with a firm backhand, I was able to temper my raging emotions down with the help of my human side and try and let him down gently.

"-hhh… I'm flattered, honest, but I, uh… I don't swing that way." I finally bit out after stumbling over my own words. Apollos smirk twitched once, then twice, before slipping into a confused frown.

"Come again?"

"I don't swing that way." I repeated in the awkward silence as this man continued to linger in my personal space.

"Sorry, but I don't think I can give you what you want. Better luck next time?" The god stared at me in utter silence for several increasingly uncomfortable seconds before he snorted. And then he started chuckling. And then he started laughing. Desperately turning to Mia, I shot her my most pleading, puppy-eyed stare I could manage, begging her with my eyes to save me from this maniac who just kept laughing, with his hand still clamped to my arm.

She only shrugged helplessly, settling back to watch this shitshow with an amused smirk playing on her lips. His henchman-goon guy stood in the background over Apollo's shoulder, his hands clasped before him as he watched on impassibly. Not showing an ounce of emotion on his face. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the god's chuckles died down as he patted my arm as if we were good buddies. His lecherous grin was back, but there was a hint of something sharp to it now.

"Oh Max, don't worry. They all say something like that at first. But we can work that nonsense out of you real quick. But I get it-" He said as he took his hand off of me, spinning on his heels and sashaying his way back towards the door.

"-your not ready to say 'yes' just yet. But don't worry, they always give in in the end." His terrifyingly salacious piece said, he swept out of the room with another dramatic swish of his cape. The flunky he brought along with him gave a wordless nod to the room before following. In the silence, every single head in the room turned at once to stare at me, but I didn't acknowledge any of them.

I was too busy glaring at the door, because I knew, in my heart of hearts, that this shit was going to color my life a brilliant shade of annoying for a while. X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X Present Day. Tiredly plodding through the door of Mia's, I looked up to the bar to see the dwarf with that damnable smirk on her lips, wordlessly pointing to the elaborately arranged gift basket made of exotic desserts arranged the the shape of a sun with a heart at its center sitting on the counter. Yeenogu damn it.