The air was thick with smoke, sweat, roasted meat, and brimstone, all blending into a heady atmosphere that clung to the lungs. The skies of the Wrath Ring stretched wide and cloudless overhead, washed in the deep orange glow of a setting sun that seemed to burn forever on the horizon. Lanterns hung from wooden posts and fence rails, their flickering flames throwing long shadows across dirt paths trampled flat by thousands of hooves, boots, and claws.
Imps crowded the fields in rowdy clusters, laughter booming over the rhythmic clanging of farm tools and the sharp twang of country music played on battered instruments. It was loud. It was rough. It was alive.
And it was the kind of place that could make even the boldest sinner feel like an outsider.
Max stood near the back of the van, leaning against its metal frame, fiery eyes quietly scanning the chaos. His posture was relaxed on the surface, but beneath that calm he catalogued everything—movement, sound, potential threats. Old habits.
Ahead of him, Moxxie and Millie were already being swallowed by Millie's family, her relatives shouting greetings and clapping Moxxie on the back hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. Millie laughed brightly, tail flicking with excitement as she reintroduced everyone.
Her father, Joe, stood at the center of it all, arms crossed and grin wide beneath his thick mustache.
"Well, look here," Joe said loudly, his southern drawl cutting through the noise. "Ain't every day my girl brings city folk all the way down to Wrath."
His sharp eyes swept over the group and briefly landed on Loona and Blitzø.
Blitzø was already failing miserably at keeping a low profile—one arm slung around Moxxie's shoulders, talking too loud, gesturing too wildly, and absolutely drawing attention like a flare gun.
Max stayed back.
Wrath was almost entirely imps—short, horned, compact demons built for hard labor and harder living. He, on the other hand, was tall, broad-shouldered, and unmistakably not an imp. Every glance his way lingered just a second too long.
From the corner of his vision, he saw Striker approach.
The imp's walk was smooth, confident—predatory. His grin was sharp and fake, his hat tilted just enough to shadow his eyes. Max immediately didn't like him. Watched as Striker greeted Millie with charm that crossed dangerously into flirtation.
Max's fingers twitched.
Not my fight, he reminded himself.
Loona drifted over and stopped beside him, eyes glued to her phone. Her expression gave nothing away, but her tail flicked back and forth with restless energy.
"So," she said casually, not looking up. "Why're you hiding back here? Didn't wanna stop Blitz before he embarrasses himself into getting shot?"
Max huffed a quiet laugh.
"Nah. Just… not used to this. Wrath's mostly imps. I stick out."
He gestured subtly to the crowd.
"At least in Gluttony there're other beasts—wolves, hellhogs, weird hybrids. Lust doesn't care what you look like at all."
Loona snorted.
"And I blend in?" She gestured down at herself. "We're both two feet taller than everyone here. Only difference is I'm actually supposed to exist."
She pulled out a cigarette and flicked her lighter, but the wind snuffed it out twice. Without a word, Max lifted his hand and snapped his fingers. A small, controlled flame bloomed at his fingertip.
Loona blinked, then leaned in and lit her cigarette.
"…Thanks."
The moment didn't last.
Joe wandered over, eyes narrowing with interest as he looked Max up and down.
"Well now," he said. "And who might you be?"
Max straightened instinctively and gave a polite nod.
"Name's Max. Overlord from the Pride Ring."
He rested an arm loosely around Loona's shoulder.
"And I'm engaged to her."
Loona nearly choked on smoke.
Joe's grip was firm as he shook Max's hand.
"An Overlord, huh? So you're a sinner."
His gaze flicked to Loona's hand—and paused.
"Well now… why do I see a ring on her finger, but not yours?"
Max's stomach dropped.
"Oh—shit."
The realization hit hard. His rings. Charlie still had them. Without them, his power was sealed—reduced, restrained.
Millie stepped in instantly.
"Ain't safe wearin' expensive stuff around here, Daddy," she said smoothly. "People get curious."
Joe shrugged.
"Fair enough. Make yourself useful then."
Max nodded quickly.
"Already on it."
He grabbed several bags at once with his arm. Shadows rippled at his feet, lifting the rest effortlessly. A few nearby imps stared in open awe.
"I'll show him to the rooms," Striker offered, tipping his hat to Millie's mother.
Max followed him inside.
Something felt off immediately.
Striker's charm was wrong—too smooth, too rehearsed. As Max set down the final bag and turned to leave—
Click.
He froze.
A blessed pistol pressed into his back, faintly glowing with residual holy energy.
"Knew it," Max muttered. "Smelled sanctified steel the moment I saw you."
"I heard stories," Striker said lowly. "Overlords hard to kill. Almost like Royals."
He pulled the trigger.
Pain flared—but only briefly.
The bullet burned through Max's shoulder, holy energy crackling—then the wound knit closed with a wet hiss. Striker's smirk vanished.
Black tendrils erupted from Max's shadow, pinning Striker to the wall and wrenching the gun from his grip.
"Blessed weapons are cheap imitations," Max said calmly, picking the pistol up. "Fragments of holy steel. Enough to kill a rayal if used right. But not me. Not today"
He plucked the bullet out and dropped it.
"If you ever touch Stolas—or anyone connected to him," Max said softly, eyes glowing, "I don't care if Satan himself stands between us. You will die."
The shadows released Striker.
Max walked away.
Outside, Loona glanced at him.
"Sounded like a gun."
"Probably fell," Max said smoothly. "Let's go enjoy the festival."
As they disappeared into the fire-lit chaos of Wrath, Max felt the weight of what he didn't do settle deep in his chest.
Some fates couldn't be changed.
Not yet.
[Author Note: What ya think? Trying to expand the universe a bit. In my story (not sure if cannon or not) Blessed weapons are only made of parts of Holy weapons. Significantly weaker but enough to get thr job done if used right. Anyways, enjoy]